Call of the Wolves

by kuku88

"I'm not what you think I am," breathed the spiky, black-haired bad boy, leaning in. "Sure you aren't," she muttered, pushing him away. He raised an eyebrow. "That's what you think," he replied evenly. Rated T, R&R!

58. Chapter 58: A Wolf Behind My Back

CHAPTER 58: A WOLF BEHIND MY BACK

BUTCH: Well, that was fast.

BUTTERCUP: A lot faster than the last chapter.

ME: Yeah, I have a lot more inspiration bwahahaha. And time. I guess? I mean, before winter break is over, anyway.

BRICK: Humph.

ME: So, I only own the story and my OC's!

BLISS: Oh, and one more thing!

ME: Oh yeah, right. HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! May 2016 be a great year for all of you!

BUTTERCUP: Read on, everyone!

Chapter 58: A Wolf Behind My Back

---

"Is everything going okay over there?"

"It's fine; don't worry about me. Just worry about where you are—dealing with Maxim and Coal sounds a lot more dangerous than dealing with Kinley."

"Don't underestimate him. From my records, he may be one of Danes' youngest generals, but he's also one of the most cunning and agile."

"Alright, alright; I'll be careful. Don't worry about me. I have Harry and Ochella here with me; they're both really good soldiers. I'll be fine, Brick; don't—"

BZZT.

He jumped as the connection was suddenly severed between him and his brother. Panicked, he whispered, "Brick...? Brick!?" No one answered though.

He lifted his head and spotted Harry standing above him. The man's face was serious and unmoving, as if it were set in stone. He limped and seemed to not be fully healed from a previous injury*, but he stood strong. In his hands he carried a gun, and his eyes were trained on a point away from them.

"Harry?" he whispered, still feeling panicked.

The man's eyes flickered downwards. "They must have somehow discovered our signal and severed it."

That explanation wasn't very comforting. He got up slowly from his crouching position and glanced out, where Kinley stood. The male, who couldn't have been more than six years older than him, wore a red shirt and black jeans. He had on these green goggles and had scruffy red hair. The expression he wore was smug as he typed something into a small screen on his wrist.

"It must've been that kid," Harry continued in a sneer, hatred scrawled across his face. He lifted his gun and aimed to fire. "Get down."

He tried to do as he was told, but then his eyes widened as he noticed something was very, very wrong. Just as a bat flitted by past the moonlight, he opened his mouth to cry out a warning. "HARRY!" he screamed, his voice sounding shriller than he would've liked. "WATCH OUT!"

Suddenly, as if out of thin air, a man appeared in front of them and slammed into the older man. The two wrestled around in the grass for awhile, before the enemy managed to pin Harry down. He was holding a knife and was about to slice into Harry's throat. He was also sneering, "Kinley knew that cutting the signal you guys had would draw your attention. And now we can go in for an easy kill."

"You're right about one thing," Harry spat, "and one thing only."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" the man jeered.

"That we would be distracted! But you're wrong about an easy kill. I'M NOT DYING HERE. I STILL HAVE A PERSON TO KILL!" Harry twisted his head to the side. "NOW!" he roared.

Suddenly a bullet pierced the man's side and screeching, he collapsed to the side, scrabbling at his new wound. He rolled onto the grass and Harry jumped upwards, now covered in blood. He turned to nod at Ochella, who stood a few feet away with her gun raised.

He felt his heart rattle in his chest. He hated watching people die.

Harry's eyes widened just then as a brief moment of surprise flickered across his face. "Kinley—!" he gasped.

Spinning around, the Rowdyruff Boy turned just in time to see the redheaded general barrel into him. The two rolled around in the grass. Kinley forcibly stopped them when they were only an inch from the other man's body. The Ruff glanced at the body and shuddered. His hair was barely a centimetre away from the blood.

"Scared of a little blood, little Ruff?" he jeered.

He couldn't answer. He was scared. He didn't want to die just yet.

Before his brain could puzzle anything else out, Kinley suddenly dragged him upwards and whirled him around. "Not another step," he warned, "or I cut off this boy's head." The older male was pressing a knife against his neck and it felt oh-so-cold.

Ochella took a step back.

"And your weapons," Kinley added. "Drop them."

She slowly lowered her gun, her bright green eyes never leaving the Rowdyruff Boy and Kinley.

Danes' general let out a harsh laugh. "Ha! I knew this boy would be too precious to let me kill. Just listen to my demands and he'll—" Kinley let out a roar as something smashed into him and he crumpled forward.

The Ruff slid with him but he managed to free himself. When he looked up, breathing heavily, he saw Harry's triumphant glare pinned on Kinley, a knife in his hand.

The man's ominous words rang in the Ruff's head: "I STILL HAVE A PERSON TO KILL!"

Snarling, Kinley struggled upwards. "Stabbing me in the back; sounds just like something a big bad wolf like you would do."

"Using a hostage; sounds just like something a cowardly bat like you would do," Harry responded coolly, his voice low. It was ragged though, as if he really wanted to kill the other boy.

"Fight me fairly!" Kinley yelled. His gaze shot to the side. "ATTACK!" he yelled. His voice rang far into the trees, sending birds and bats flying. An owl hooted warningly somewhere nearby.

And just like that, Danes' warriors attacked. Someone dragged Harry away, kicking and clawing, into the woods. Another female grabbed Ochella from behind in a choke-hold while someone snagged the Ruff by the arm.

"Oh no, leave this one to me," Kinley stated ominously, his gaze pinned on the Rowdyruff Boy. "I've always wanted to test my skills on a super-powered being."

The unseen soldier backed off and suddenly the Ruff was left alone with Kinley in the clearing. The older boy attacked first.

He was upon the Ruff in an instant, clawing at him. Letting out a cry of agony, the boy staggered backwards and managed to stand his ground by digging his feet into the dirt. He fought back against the slashes and swung his arm down hard, knocking into Kinley's chest.

His opponent stumbled backwards, gasping for air. He looked up and managed a smirk. "Not bad—but you'll have to do better than that to defeat me!"

A split second passed before suddenly a fist flew into his jaw and a foot smashed into the side of his head, causing his eyes to squeeze shut and his head to burst with a searing flash of pain. He crashed into the grass and had to wait until the stars cleared out of his vision, but even then Kinley was kicking him—and kicking him and kicking him and kicking him...

He curled up into a ball, desperately wishing it was over. He blinked back the dizzying pain and managed to turn around just in time to see Kinley's sick, twisted grin. He let his eyes heat up, causing the other boy to freeze and stop his assault. Before he could escape, however, the Ruff's heat vision blasted into him and Kinley flew backwards.

He struggled upwards and flew to where his opponent now rested, having crashed into a tree. Kinley didn't look so well—the front of his shirt was burned off and his skin was singed with black, still sizzling. Part of his face bubbled with burns as well.

Kinley's eyes flashed open and he let out an angry screech that caused the boy's ears to ring—and having super-hearing didn't help. Then Kinley was flying from the tree, his fists smashing into the Rowdyruff Boy's chest.

Stumbling backwards, the Ruff used one hand to grab Kinley's arm and placed his other hand on his opponent's chest. He applied pressure and fired up his superpowers, causing his hand to glow—and Kinley to fly backwards again.

The older male rolled around in the grass until he hit the roots of the same tree he'd crashed into earlier. Struggling upwards, he snarled.

The Rowdyruff Boy blasted him again before he could get up.

He felt awful, but he knew this was war and there was nothing more he could do. He couldn't reason with Kinley; he could only fight. Staggering backwards, he managed to flop down on a rock. He began rubbing his aching jaw, his gaze resting on his opponent. If Kinley got up, he'd still be a threat even after everything he'd suffered through.

Just then, he heard a screech from Harry—and it wasn't one of anger. Well, it was, but it was also a screech of pain. Concern flashed through him and he leaped upwards, just as he felt a strong force meet his stomach.

Doubling over, he saw a brief flash of Kinley's green, green eyes—eyes that shone with such intense hatred that he felt it too. He could just imagine how consuming it was.

"You're dead, Rowdyruff," he snarled.

He could imagine that too.

"I'm going to kill you," Kinley continued in an ugly jeer. His new scar from the burn he'd gotten didn't improve the look. "I'm going to claw your face off and tear your limbs off one-by-one before shoving them down your throat and causing you to suffocate. I'm going to gouge out your eyes and shred you into thin strips, before draining you of all your blood until you're just a shrivelled husk."

And he could imagine that too. With such intense imagery, how can I not?

He shook his head to clear it. He's talking about death. That's no joking matter. I need to find shelter—somewhere to hide. "Well, I'm going to burn you some more."

Kinley barked a laugh. It sounded almost hysterical. Almost insane. "YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" he shrilled. "I'LL STAB YOU TO DEATH UNTIL YOU'RE FULL OF HOLES AND WATCH THE BLOOD DRAIN OUT OF YOU! I'LL PEEL YOUR SKIN FROM YOUR BONES! I'LL CLAW YOU AND CLAW YOU AND CLAW YOU AND CLAW YOU AND CLAW YOU UNTIL YOU'RE JUST A RIBBON!" His voice grew even shriller with each word. "YOU WOULDN'T DARE BURN ME AGAIN OR ELSE I'LL BURN YOU ALIVE IN REVENGE!"

In response, he used his laser vision on Kinley again.

The scream that followed from the other boy was so horrendous and pain-filled that it caused the Ruff to freeze in his tracks, panting. He was rooted to the spot and almost didn't want to run. He wanted to help this poor, insufferable, sick, twisted but undeniably naïve boy. He was a victim of war too. He wasn't completely at fault. He was just going by what he'd been taught; he was just following orders.

But then again, he did threaten to burn me alive. And claw my face off. And a bunch of other fucked up shit.

So with that thought, he spun around and flew.

He was vaguely aware of Kinley screaming for someone to follow him. He didn't wait to find out if anyone had obeyed. He began feeling dizzy, which slowed him down exceptionally. It got so bad he had to stop when he reached a very familiar neighbourhood. In it, a very square house with three round, circular windows stood.

It was a welcoming sight.

He landed at the door and almost missed his mark; nearly skidding too far and stumbling into the bushes. He managed to catch himself by hitting the doorbell with more force than he'd intended.

He waited impatiently as the seconds ticked by. One. Two. Three. Four.

What must've been at most a dozen seconds but felt like at least a dozen hours passed before the door finally opened and a squarish man stuck his head out.

He was dizzy with relief at the familiar sight.

It was Professor Utonium, and his face expressed complete shock. "Boomer!?" he cried out in alarm.

The world was beginning to spin. The poor blue Ruff was pretty sure that wasn't normal. He struggled to stay awake and say something that would explain his situation. "I'm...sorry... Needed...shelter..." he managed to mumble before the world spun around so much that it whirled into blackness and he felt himself fall against the doorframe.

Is this smart? What if I'm putting them in danger? I need help though. They can help me. Is Bubbles here? She can heal me. What will she think? How will she react?

He closed his eyes sleepily as a single thought rang out among the others in his cluttered, confused brain.

But most importantly, how will she feel?

---

"Everyone's talking about the explosion like it's all they can think about. You wouldn't believe how many questions these people have," Blossom stated at dinnertime, stabbing her fork into the beef and lifting it to her mouth. "It's been a busy day."

Everyone but me, Bubbles thought miserably. An explosion was obviously a big deal, but her mind was on something else... Her mind kept thinking back to Boomer's eyes right before he'd been about to kiss her—before she'd shoved him away.

"You wouldn't believe how many questions I have!" exclaimed Buttercup, chewing wholeheartedly on her own beef. "And yet no one has any answers!"

"Buttercup, what have I said about talking with your mouth full?" Blossom responded sternly, frowning.

The green Puff rolled her eyes.

Bubbles rolled a pea on the plate instead, staring at it. Questions... I have so many too; I have a lot of stuff to ask Boomer. Like...why did you want to kiss me?

"I'm just glad that at the very least, you girls are safe. I know you have superpowers, but that doesn't mean I don't worry about you," the Professor offered from his seat.

"Thank you, Professor, but it's quite alright. We can handle it," Blossom promised, smiling.

Buttercup nodded. "Yeah, I really wish you'd lift the curfew. Nothing's happened in like, forever."

"But yesterday there was the explosion! I think that's enough of a reason to keep you all here," he responded, looking alarmed.

"You let Bliss go out tonight!" Buttercup said, exasperated. "And Banana and Bunny."

"From what I've heard, she's on a date with DJ. I trust the boy and his family to keep her safe. They're not going out anywhere and are just hanging out at his house for dinner. Besides, I've heard stories about that family..." He paused. "Bliss should be safe either way.

"As for Banana and Bunny, they had a school project to work on, if I remember correctly. While the school isn't exactly safe right now, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"Well, I'm sure that if they were here, they'd have my back. Bliss would, anyhow," Buttercup grumbled.

Would anyone else have my back? Perhaps I've been too awful to Boomer. And Sidney—poor Sidney. He must've been so confused when he saw me in that pathetic state. Bubbles' heart clenched as she imagined the kind, shy boy's face when he saw her after she'd crashed into him, having been trying to fly away from Boomer.

"I'm not lifting the curfew until the police catch the gangs fighting," the Professor replied to Buttercup, his voice firm. "These are obviously not just regular gang wars, but quite serious."

"They'd find them a lot faster if we could help them," she grumbled.

"Now, now," the Professor reprimanded. "The police are doing their best and I have every bit of faith that they'll get to the bottom of this mystery soon enough."

Will anyone get to the bottom of my mystery soon enough? Bubbles wondered. Will they all find out what's happened to me and how stupid I was in response? Ugh, why am I so pathetic sometimes?

"Bubbles, are you okay?"

Jumping, the blue Puff looked around. The Professor was eyeing her worriedly. She blushed. "I-I'm fine. Thank you," she mumbled, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"Are you sure? You don't look so well. Do you feel sick at all? You've barely touched anything on your plate. Perhaps you have a fever?" he fretted.

"I'm fine!" she cried. "I just—"

DING-DONG. DING-DONG.

Startled, the Professor's head jerked away from Bubbles towards the door. "Who could that be at this hour...?"

Bubbles breathed out a sigh of relief as their fatherly figure got up and walked toward the door. Then she caught Buttercup's searching eyes and almost had a heart attack. But as soon as her sister caught her eye, she abruptly turned away. Heart hammering, Bubbles turned to the door as well. What is she thinking? Does she know?

Meanwhile, the Professor let out an alarmed cry. "Boomer!?"

"I'm...sorry... Needed...shelter..."

Bubbles jumped, her heart slamming up into her throat. She leaped to her feet and flew to the door, where she saw Boomer collapsing against the doorframe. Even unconscious, he looked cute. Bubbles mentally slapped herself. FOCUS! Her brain was screaming at her now, burning.

She picked him up and ran her hand along his bruised jaw. He had multiple scratches and cuts lining his arms and had suffered a nasty bump to the head. He was still breathing though, so that was a relief.

Bubbles looked around in the darkness but saw nothing.

The Professor hurried to close the door, and that was when something caught Bubbles' eye.

Her heart stopped beating.

It was the glint of a sniper.

"GET DOWN!" she screamed. Everyone dove for cover. The Professor leaped behind the open door, leaning against the wall. Bubbles flew to the other side, still carrying Boomer. A bullet smashed into the ground where she'd been standing just a moment earlier.

Her heart hammering against her ribcage, she cried out, "Professor! The door!" Her voice sounded far away, as if she wasn't really saying it. Maybe she hadn't said it. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart in her ears.

Whether she said anything or didn't, however, the Professor still kicked the door shut. Another bullet flew into the door, making a splintering noise.

They waited for a long, long time and when nothing else happened, they relaxed. The Professor nervously opened the door and peeked outside, but there was no one there anymore. When he shook his head at the girls to confirm it, Bubbles breathed out a long sigh of relief—a sigh she hadn't even realized she was holding—before sliding down the wall. Boomer slid with her, seeing as he was still being cradled in her arms.

She laid him out on the floor and pushed her hands onto his chest. They lit up a light-blue colour as she began accessing her healing powers.

Buttercup sat down with her and watched. "What just happened?" she muttered.

Bubbles shook her head. She didn't have an answer.

The Professor's gaze was sympathetic. "Come on, let's get him into my lab. We need to contact Mojo."

The girls nodded and they all carried Boomer there, following the Professor. Bubbles had flashbacks of a time when she'd had to dress up and pretend to be Boomer to trick the Rowdyruff Boys**. That time they'd all still been enemies and it was just the original trio of Powerpuff Girls, Boomer, and the Professor. Except, that time, Boomer hadn't been nearly as scratched up as this time. And Bubbles had a feeling that even if he was, she wouldn't have cared as much as she did now.

She sat down and continued her healing. The Professor took a look at the Rowdyruff Boy's condition. He and Blossom helped to clean and dress the wounds. Buttercup went around fetching things and reading out reports to the Professor.

Almost thirty minutes passed before Boomer slowly blinked open his eyes. He winced as the bright lights of the lab cut through his vision. When he looked again, his vision was a little blurrier. "Are you...an angel?" he whispered.

Bubbles blushed and shook her head, unable to say no. She helped Boomer sit up, having him face away from her so he wouldn't see her yet.

Buttercup raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She waved at Boomer. He nodded back before rubbing his watering eyes. When he blinked again, everything returned to focus.

"BC?" he exclaimed.

"Yo," she greeted.

"If you're here, then...then..." Bubbles flinched at the hopeful tone in his voice just as he turned his head to see her. "Then Bubbles is here too," he finished breathlessly.

She said nothing, instead looking away.

Boomer noticed this and deflated a little. Perhaps Blossom noticed this too, because she leaned forward and asked if he could explain his situation.

"Nothing, I—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I mean..."

"Boomer, just tell us the truth. It's obvious something's happened to you; you can't deny that and pretend it's not a big deal," Blossom offered mildly but firmly.

Boomer groaned and pushed his hair upwards with his hand, clearly trying to reorient himself despite his pain. "I just...got in a fight with some crazy guy..."

"If that were true, then we would've gotten a phone call from the Mayor," Blossom protested, glancing at the hotline. "Especially if it was someone that could do this kind of damage to us and they weren't just some ordinary thug."

The blue Ruff shook his head. "I don't know, I don't know..." He leaned against the wall. "Can I please, please just rest for awhile?"

Blossom looked ready to protest again, but she clamped her mouth shut and nodded. "...Of course." Then she spun away and walked off.

Buttercup followed but Bubbles waited a moment, watching Boomer's pitiful condition. His chest fell and rose slowly, and he looked like he was falling asleep. She wondered if she should say anything, but she really didn't want to—or rather, she had no idea what to say—and he didn't even seem aware she was there so she decided she would just leave.

And that's what she did, even as she heard Boomer whimper and her heart ached and she almost stayed behind.

---

The kitchen was wafting with warm, delicious smells. Braker could feel his mouth beginning to water at the scent of food.

Even then, the knowledge of who was in there and who had made all of the delicious-smelling foods kind of destroyed his appetite. Deth Jackson Jr, Braker's biggest rival and the enemy and most of all, boyfriend of Bliss Utonium, was inside, cooking up who knows what.

Braker joined DJ in the kitchen and promptly marched to the far side of the counter, ignoring the contemptuous glare that the other boy shot him. As he readied his own ingredients, he noticed that DJ was whisking something around in a sky-blue bowl.

"And what," DJ began haughtily, "are you making today?"

Braker bristled but forced himself not to react too much. "Curry," he said simply, not looking at the other boy.

"Curry!" exclaimed DJ. "You're going to make something that simple?"

Now Braker couldn't help but react. He curled his lip back, growling at his companion. "And what are you making, Mr. Master Chef?"

"The main dish will be paella, accompanied by Boeuf Bourguignon and pork with raspberry sauce. Oh, and of course there'll be a chicken dish as well," DJ answered promptly, his voice sounding as if he were on a cooking show. "And for dessert, there will be crème brûlée and macaroons." He made a smug face, as if to say "try competing with that, mister".

Braker growled and threw his spoon down hard into his bowl. He knew he couldn't try competing with that; it was beyond his skill level. He didn't look at DJ, knowing the other boy was going to look so irritatingly arrogant that Braker would have trouble not clawing his face off.

Luckily, Bliss walked in at that time. "Come on, you two boys," she said, rolling her eyes, "let's get working."

A couple minutes passed as they all continued to cook, with the boys only helping each other when Bliss insisted on it. Braker tried to ignore his feelings of jealousy and inferiority, watching DJ multitask while making all of his dishes.

After awhile, the door to DJ's home opened and a man's voice called out, "DJ...! Slicer and I are home!"

Braker stiffened, every muscle of his screaming at him to run and hide. Facing Deth Jackson Sr was not on his list of things to do if he ever wanted to live. Or Slicer, for that matter.

"Got it!" DJ shot him a knowing look as if he knew how the Ruff felt—or rather, he could guess what the Ruff would be doing. Deth Jackson Jr turned to his girlfriend. "Bliss, can you go greet my father and uncle for me?"

"Sure!" she said cheerfully, doing a mock salute before flying off.

Braker tried to ignore his thumping heart and growing fear. "God fucking dammit, your father and uncle are going to kill me as soon as they see me," he muttered.

"Sort of," agreed DJ, "but if they're gonna kill anyone, they're more likely to use you and torture you."

"Thanks," Braker responded scathingly.

"No problem." DJ looked pleased at inserting the image in the orange Ruff's head, but he clearly didn't mean it—not entirely, at least. Even with the war going on, the likeliness of DJ's father capturing Braker and using him for interrogation was slim.

Braker tuned in and listened to Bliss talking to Deth Sr and Slicer with his super-hearing.

"Greetings, Bliss!" DJ's father greeted cheerfully—a tone Braker was sure would vanish as soon as he saw the orange Ruff.

"Hi, DJ's dad; Slicer!" Bliss responded in a casual tone filled with cheeriness. "DJ and I are just preparing dinner. We have a special guest over too!"

"Oh, really? How wonderful! Who is it? One of your sisters? A friend? Your father? Ooh, how exciting!" DJ's father exclaimed.

Braker cursed inside his head. DJ had used the excuse that his father hated unplanned guests on Bliss***, but this was clearly untrue by the way he was reacting to Bliss' news. It was the who that would piss his father off.

"It's—"

Deth Jackson Jr barrelled past the orange Ruff, nearly knocking the other boy over as he scrambled out of the kitchen. "Hello, Father; Uncle! Welcome home! How was your day?"

"Fine, fine, il figlio," DJ's father responded, sounding puzzled. "Bliss was just telling me that—"

"Yes, yes! Our surprise guest!" his son blurted out, interrupting him. "Just wait a moment, please." He turned to Bliss. "Could you get him, Bliss?"

The orange Puff must have nodded because a moment later she was by Braker's side. He stopped her as she was about to fly off, tilting his head to the kitchen door and listening some more.

"Father, there's something you need to know. The mystery guest—whom I didn't have a choice about inviting, by the way—is Braker Jojo."

A moment passed and Braker held his breath, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

The moment of silent disbelief was longer than expected. Then: "WHAT!?" roared DJ's father. Braker thought he heard a low growl too, which was probably from Slicer. Neither the roar nor the growl sounded very happy or pleased.

For the first time, Bliss looked concerned. She glanced at Braker, her eyes seemingly asking, "Is this a good idea?"

Without hesitation, he shook his head.

Even with his sureness, or perhaps because of it, Bliss set her face to determined and grabbed him by the arm. Braker felt warmth spread through him at the touch, and despite his nervous fear, he let himself be dragged away.

"Is everything okay?" Bliss called out over the noise.

DJ's father looked up and suddenly he seemed more cautious. He clearly wanted to maintain his image in front of Bliss and not give away any of his displeasure. "Ah, it's all fine. I'm just a little surprised, is all," he said coolly. His eyes flickered toward Braker again discreetly. He coughed. "A lot surprised, to be honest."

"He's not a bad kid," Bliss promised.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Mr. Jackson muttered, too quiet for Bliss' ears to catch—but still loud enough for Braker. Outside, he smiled and clapped his hands, calling out, "Come now, let's all sit down at the table and enjoy whatever food my talented son and his...friend have to offer!"

Braker winced at the way he said "friend", as if he'd just tasted something bitter. I'll show him, Braker thought with a flare of anger. Then he paused as his anger subsided. Why do I care what he thinks?

Then he turned to follow DJ back into the kitchen.

Now DJ's show of outward arrogance dwindled a little, but only because he understood the severity of his father's judgement and hatred against the Ruff. In a way, Braker knew he was being sympathetic towards him, but not really.

Braker finished his curry first and slowly took it out with him to the dining table. He set it down on the table, trying to appear calm and indifferent despite feeling incredibly awkward and nervous instead.

Bliss clapped her hands. "It looks great, Braker!"

"That's it?" scoffed Mr. Jackson. But before anyone could say anything, he beamed. "Thank you, Braker! It looks simply delicious. It may just be one dish, but I'm sure you added extra care into it to make sure it tasted amazing."

"Err...thanks," he mumbled, unsure how to reply.

Slicer said nothing, but made a noise that resembled a snort.

Braker sat down awkwardly, but then Bliss patted the seat beside her. At first he felt relieved, before realizing that the seat she was offering him was right next to Deth Jackson Sr. The man noticed this too, because his eyes flashed toward Braker with intense displeasure.

The orange Ruff coughed, "Umm...maybe I'll sit on your other side, Bliss."

She blinked at him before switching her gaze to Mr. Jackson, who simply smiled back at her. She hesitated before nodding. "Okay, but I'm going to sit here beside Mr. Jackson so DJ can sit in the middle between us."

Braker froze from getting up and Mr. Jackson seemed to choke on his blood-red drink.

"You two need to talk," Bliss insisted firmly, sensing their discomfort.

Braker knew better than to argue with his counterpart so he simply slid into his new seat. Deth Jackson Sr gave him a steely look before turning away.

A few more minutes passed before DJ appeared, carrying plates and dishes. Bliss nudged her counterpart and Braker got up to help. DJ gave him a stiff nod of gratitude but it didn't radiate thankfulness.

As they set the plates down, DJ began describing his dishes: "The main dish is paella, accompanied by Boeuf Bourguignon and pork with raspberry sauce. And this is a chicken dish. As for dessert, there will be crème brûlée and macaroons."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed his father, sounding overly proud. He gave his son a broad smile and shot Braker a look the orange Ruff knew all too well—it was smug, and it said, "try competing with that".

Like father, like son, Braker mused, crushing a grape in his hand from the fruit bowl that Bliss had set down at the centre of the table. He smiled witheringly back at DJ's father in a sign that he didn't care.

Bliss stood up and picked up the bowls, beginning to scoop paella into them. "Here you go," she said, offering a bowl to each person at the table.

Braker begrudgingly took the bowl and took a taste. It was infuriatingly tasty and he hated it.

DJ's father was smiling at him expectantly as if he were a delicious piece of prey who was so stupid he'd walk right into the predator's claws. "How is it?" he asked cheerfully. His tone was a mask for a thousand implications.

Braker shot DJ a look—the other boy was staring uncomfortably at his own bowl. "It's...good," he finally said.

Bliss frowned. "Oh, come on. Now's not the time for your silly rivalry, Braker."

He felt torn. Oh, Bliss. If only you knew—it goes way beyond that. This isn't about DJ anymore; this is about not giving DJ's father the reaction he's expecting. I won't let him have that satisfaction.

"It's okay," DJ said unexpectedly, his voice quiet.

His father shot him a look. Out loud he said, "Here, try some of the beef my son's prepared. It's absolutely marvellous."

Braker couldn't disagree. It was marvellous. He took the piece of meat and chewed, grimacing at the delectable scent and taste that assaulted his senses. He hated it—hated it, hated it, hated it. He swallowed. "It's also very...good," he managed to choke out. It felt like it was lodged in his throat. He reached for the cup set in front of him before hesitating. It gleamed blood-red.

"Would you like a drink? Please, go ahead. It's tomato juice. Only the freshest for our family," DJ's father invited.

His hesitation increased. "Do you...maybe have something else?" he asked.

Bliss took a sip of her own tomato juice, wrinkling her nose at him. "Why? It tastes fine," she said.

He shook his head. "I want something else...please."

Mr. Jackson's eyes were dark and unreadable as he nodded at Slicer. In response, Slicer seemed to snort again and then he was gone. When he returned, he carried a bottle of sparkling cider and a glass. He poured some for Braker and handed it to the boy.

He took it awkwardly, mumbling a "thanks" before beginning to drink.

"So...let's talk," DJ's father suddenly said. Alarmed, both teenage boys raised their heads. DJ's father continued on as if he didn't notice their discomfort. "So, Braker, how is your family?"

"Oh, they're...fine," Braker said.

"Father—" DJ tried to interject.

His father waved him off. "Now tell me, what about your friends? I mean, Sampson and Harry, that is."

"They're—fine. They're working hard," Braker muttered.

"And what about Fillip?"

Braker's eye twitched. "He's—He's—ah-hem." He coughed. "I'd rather not talk about him."

Mr. Jackson smiled.

"Padre, cosa stai facendo?" DJ hissed. "Sei sicuro che sia una buona idea, provocandolo in questo modo? Lei è proprio qui! Cosa penserà?"

"Silenzio!" his father responded fiercely. "Questo è il più grande di lei, più grande di te. Questo è circa la guerra e quello che sta succedendo. Se siamo in grado di trascinare tutte le informazioni di questo piccolo lupo, allora lo faremo. La tua ragazza non sa cosa sta succedendo e lei non saprà più di quanto lo fa già per la fine di tutto questo. Calmati, mio figlio, e lasciate fare a me. Siamo creature della notte, ma non siamo codardi. Intenso?"

"Intenso," DJ muttered back in reply, crumpling.

Bliss shot Braker a look and he shrugged. He almost didn't care at this point; whatever DJ and his father were saying behind his back couldn't have been much worse than what they were saying to his face. The two weren't the type to hide their intentions or insults.

"Now, Braker, piccolo lupo," Mr. Jackson said, "I have a very important question to ask you."

"What is it?" he asked, feeling miserable and sounding miserable and not caring about anything anymore because he had a feeling he already knew the question.

He squeezed his eyes shut, expecting the worst, just as Mr. Jackson asked, "How is Damon, la misera, imperdonabile lupo cattivo?" He wrinkled his nose disdainfully.

The orange Ruff took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Finally, he said, "He's fine too." Then he added, "I—I need some fresh air."

As he leaped upwards, he heard Bliss call out for him. Maybe she jumped up to follow him; he thought he heard DJ calling for her...

The orange Ruff's mind was a blur as he flew out of the kitchen. He skidded to a stop and thrust open the large entrance doors to DJ's annoyingly large house. Braker took a deep breath, swallowing as he stepped outside.

It was raining.

The rain pounded against the roof and he just stood there, under the canopy, staring up at the black sky. He couldn't see any stars; it was just water, water, water...

He closed his eyes. The noise was soothing; it was as if he could encase each and every one of his worries in a raindrop and let them slide away. He could've stood there in silence for much longer if it wasn't for the tentative voice that whispered out for him.

"Braker...?"

Blinking open his eyes, he turned to look at the person looking for him. As expected, it was Bliss. "Yes?" he asked, trying to stand a little straighter and look a little stronger.

She hesitated as she stepped outside too. "Are you okay?" she finally asked. "What happened back there?"

He stared at her, wondering how much he should tell her. How much he could tell her without hearing Brick yelling out warnings in his ear, or DJ's look of disgust and disagreement. If she knew more about her precious boyfriend, then would she hate him as much as I do? He shook his head to clear it. "I'm fine." His voice sounded hoarse and far away, almost drowned out by the pounding rain.

"You're not fine," she finally stated after a few moments of silence where she simply studied him. "What happened back there? Did he ask too many personal questions?" She hesitated. "I-I don't understand any of what he said."

"You don't," he agreed simply, turning away to watch the rain again.

"But I want to, Braker," she exclaimed, sounding exasperated. "I want to understand you."

"You'll never understand," he whispered. This time, his voice was lost amongst the rain.

"What?" she questioned tentatively.

He turned back to her and shook his head again. He didn't know what to say anymore.

"Braker, talk to me...please."

"You'll just take his side anyway," Braker muttered, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop himself. The sudden accusation startled even himself.

"Why would you say that?" she demanded, looking wounded.

Why did I say that? He wondered about the answer, feeling guilty. But before he could find an answer, she rampaged on.

"I don't think you understand me," Bliss began scathingly, sounding even more offended than she looked. "DJ may be my boyfriend, but I'm not blind to his faults. I'm not blind to his family's faults. I'm not so blind that I can't see when one of my best friends feels bullied by my boyfriend's family. I'm not so blind that I don't know when to step in. I'm not so blind that I won't see my friend's pain and want to help them and—"

"Bliss, Bliss—okay, I get it." He smiled at her, some of his discomfort sliding away with the raindrops landing on the roof above him. "Thank you."

She blushed—or maybe that was just a trick of the lighting?—and turned her head away just slightly.

Braker took a tentative step forward and leaned closer toward her, reaching out with his hand... "Bliss—"

"Bliss!" came DJ's voice at the same time. Braker instantly dropped his hand as the orange Puff turned back to the door where her boyfriend stuck his head out. "Bliss, I'm sorry about all of that. But I told you—my father—he's—" He hesitated.

"I should go," Braker stated, taking a step back. The distance between him and Bliss suddenly felt like a gaping hole. He desperately wanted to step closer—to feel her warmth and reach out—

"Braker, no," she pleaded, looking broken. "Please."

He felt the guilt ricochet inside of him like a rocket. "I can't stay," he pointed out weakly. "DJ's father hates me."

"He doesn't hate you," DJ protested, "he's just overprotective—mostly he hates Damon—" The boy clamped his mouth shut.

That was strangely reassuring coming from DJ, but Braker could see that now wasn't the time to rest on the topic. Bliss was staring at the two boys with that look of hers again—the one where she knew something was up between them that they weren't telling her.

Nice going, DJ, Braker thought. Still, it was nice knowing that even perfect DJ could make mistakes.

"That's the second time this 'Damon' has been mentioned in one night. And I think I've heard you guys talking about him before," Bliss began slowly. "Just who is he?"

DJ and Braker exchanged uncertain glances.

"How much do we tell her?" DJ's eyes seemed to be asking.

Braker shrugged, feeling helpless. A tingle of Brick's stern warnings slid down his spine like an icy raindrop. You got yourself into this mess. Get yourself out of it, he thought. But he knew he couldn't leave DJ to figure this out by himself.

"Damon is a man," DJ began.

"I got that much, at least," Bliss interjected.

He frowned but continued speaking. Braker could feel his heart thumping—he had no idea how much the other boy was going to spill. "Damon...did some things in the past. He betrayed us—my...my family. The Ruffs are"—Braker could practically see the options flashing through DJ's brain: Friends? Loyal? Delusional?—"well, they knew him and...err, it's led to some complications; the way we see him versus the way they see him."

Bliss stared at them. Her orange eyes danced from one to the other. Finally, she said, "That's it?"

DJ flared his nostrils. "No, that's not it. It's...complicated." But I can't tell you any more were words that he left unsaid.

There's so much more to it, Braker agreed in his brain. Families; not just us, not just his... Soldiers; people—like Sampson or Harry or Danes or Maxim or Coal or Jamel—us, the Rowdyruff Boys; and DJ and his friends... Everyone, fighting for what they believe in... Years and generations of hatred and lies. Everything that leads to war. Death. Death everywhere. Too much death. He took a deep, shaky breath. If only you knew, Bliss.

There's so, so much more.

There's an entire war surrounding it.

"So tell me," Bliss said suddenly, so fiercely that she dragged Braker out of his whirling thoughts. It took him a moment to realize that she was replying to DJ and not any of his thoughts. "Then maybe I'll understand." Here her eyes flickered toward Braker, but he kept his gaze glued to the rain outside.

He remembered his own words clear as day: "You'll never understand."

DJ hesitated. He looked torn. He clearly wanted his girlfriend to trust him, but he also didn't want to give away the secrets that they'd been guarding for so long with so much caution and care...

But has it been worth it? Braker wondered. All this lying, all these secrets, all the death... Was it worth it in the end?

He remembered images of Damon, smiling at him as he ruffled the boy's hair. "I'm so proud of you. You and your brothers can bring peace to the town."

But can we? Did we fail at that? Did we fail you, Damon? Did you fail us? How much is enough? When is enough death too much death? When does collateral damage become suffering? When do you stop—stop all the fighting; all the pain; all the death, death, death?

"DJ, you have three seconds to give me an answer," Bliss stated, cutting through Braker's thoughts again. Her voice rang clear and pure against the chaos reigning in his head.

DJ hesitated some more. Then, finally, he shook his head. His family and his cause were more important than his girlfriend's trust, apparently. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Silence followed his decision.

Braker wondered what he would've chosen in such a situation. He glanced at Bliss. One look and he had a feeling he might know which option he would have went with.

The three just stood there for a little while longer, staring at one another in uncomfortable, crackling silence.

Braker felt like he might suffocate, which was the exact opposite of why he'd come outside in the first place. "Fresh air" had become choking, horrible, awkward air that seemed laced with betrayal and suffocating secrets.

Bliss blinked and opened her mouth, but then another voice called out, this time from inside.

"DJ...? Bliss...! Come on, it's time you come in."

It was DJ's father.

Braker hesitated. "I need to go," he finally said. He glanced from DJ to Bliss, both of whom were staring at one another. "Bye," he whispered, his voice almost lost among the storm.

He flew in a spiral into the air, leaving behind a bright orange streak that clashed against the black.

He could hear DJ's father below as he stepped out onto the porch. "Oh, is that Rowdyruff Boy gone? I'm sorry if I scared him off." He didn't sound particularly sorry. "Well, that's just too bad. It was, admittedly, a rather nice curry."

That was the last thing Braker heard before the storm swallowed everything else. He listened for a moment more; listened for a reply; listened to the beat of the rain coincide with the beat of his heart.

Then he was gone, winging through the trees and the darkness and the rain.

---

Bandit was really beginning to hate war.

Granted, he'd never been a fan of war in the first place, but he was really beginning to hate it. Like, really hate it. On a personal level.

He hated the fear that came with war. He hated the war itself; all of the doubt and hatred and fear and fighting. He hated being separated from his brothers, not knowing where they were or how they were doing. He hated their smug enemies. He hated the consequences and all the factors that went into fighting a war. He hated all the losses; the "collateral damages".

Sighing, Bandit punched another man in the face and glanced back at Brick, who was commanding their squadron. His brother looked subdued—kind of distracted, even—but still focused. He'd come home from a date with Blossom and instead of looking happy like he usually did, he seemed kind of...bitter, this time. But Bandit couldn't really tell, and he hated that too—he hated how calm and serious Brick could be all the time, while Bandit was suffering through so many different emotions: rage, pity, hatred, anguish, pain, sadness, fear...

"Move out," Brick finally announced, after what felt like eons.

Almost immediately, Bandit charged into battle, a purple blur against a dark backdrop. It was beginning to rain.

Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

The sound of rain droned on in the background, a steady rhythm that Bandit let himself follow. He knocked aside attackers left and right, trying to get to the centre, where Maxim was standing. He was commanding the gunners, while Coal was who-knows-where.

"Not so fast."

Bandit skidded to a stop, his feet sliding against wet, slippery glass. He almost crashed into his new opponent, who was a young female dressed in a black cloak. Her curly purple hair tumbled down her shoulders. "Who the heck are you?" he demanded, squinting against the rain.

She grinned toothily. "Hi, I'm new!" she chirped. "My name is Fuchsia."

"Like the colour?" He was still studying her. She was lean, but she didn't look like much of a threat strength-wise.

"Yup!" she replied cheerfully.

"Get out of my way," he said, deciding he didn't want to deal with a chatty distraction on his way to Maxim.

"You're adorable," she finally stated, before suddenly Bandit was aware of her standing right beside him. "Stupid, but adorable."

Bandit felt himself be lifted and thrown, landing hard on the slick grass and rolling to a stop a few feet away. Groaning, he sat up.

Fuchsia was standing nearby, smiling with her arms crossed. "It's a thousand years too soon for you to be casting me aside as 'not a threat'."

He could see that now. Sitting up, he dusted himself off and charged toward her, trying to punch her.

"Ahh, you wouldn't punch a lady, would you?" she exclaimed, leaning back in order to dodge a throw.

"I will if it's in self-defense," he growled back.

She simply smiled mysteriously before disappearing, reappearing a moment later behind him. "Peek-a-boo~"

Bandit twisted his head so that he could use his laser vision on her. The red rays blasted out toward her and she let out a startled cry, tumbling to the side as she threw her cloak over her face. He stood over her, panting. "It's a thousand years too late for you to be dismissing me," he growled at her, before flying away.

When he was just a few feet from Maxim, someone new planted himself in his way. Bandit blinked. He felt his stomach sinking. "Darkai...?"

The other teenaged boy stared blankly back at him, his face devoid of emotion.

"Look, Darkai—I know we're rivals and all that, but I really don't want to fight you right now—"

"Too bad." And with that, Bandit was socked in the jaw.

Bandit flew backwards, landing on his butt on the cold, wet grass. He scrunched a bunch of the green plants under his hand, growling as he wiped his mouth. He hated that too; all the flying backwards and landing ungraciously in the dirt. But most of all, he hated surprise ambushes.

Letting out a yell, he jumped upwards and punched Darkai in the face. The dark-haired teen stumbled backwards, clenching his teeth.

Darkai was on him in an instant—he barrelled into Bandit, causing the two of them to roll around—ungraciously, Bandit's brain reminded him—in the grass.

Darkai ended up being on top.

He was reaching out to jab Bandit in an important pressure point. Bandit craned his neck so that he could get as far away from Darkai's hand as possible. "Look!" he yelled over the noise of war and the growing storm. "I really don't want to fight you, okay! Not now, anyway. Bunny wouldn't want this!"

Darkai leaned closer. "This isn't about what she wants," he said ominously.

And then Bandit felt a searing flash of pain in his arm. He let out an earsplitting scream that became strong enough to be a sonic scream, which caused Darkai to cover his ears and roll off of him in an attempt to get away from the assault on his eardrums.

Bandit sat up, reaching out with his good arm to feel his now numb arm. He felt weary, as if everything was pulling at his bones. He just wanted to go home.

But instead of that, he flew toward Darkai and grappled with the young boy, both of them jumping upwards to wrestle the other. Bandit tried a hook kick but his opponent easily blocked it before grabbing his leg and throwing him backwards.

Bandit refused to flop back down on the wet grass again though. This time he managed to catch himself and reorient himself so that he didn't land like all the other times. He got back into a fighting stance and watched as Darkai leaped towards him, fists flying...

He dodged to the side and clapped one hand against one of Darkai's fists in a way of blocking it, before applying pressure to Darkai's chest. His hand flared purple and then he blasted his opponent, causing him to fly backwards.

Darkai caught himself midway through skidding away, growling darkly. He was about to attack again, when—

"Darkai...? Bandit...?"

Both of them froze, slowly turning their heads to see Bunny standing there in the pouring rain, staring at them. She was carrying an umbrella.

"Bunny," breathed Bandit.

Darkai was by her side in an instant. "Are you okay? What are you doing out here in the pouring rain? You'll catch a cold. Come on, let's get you home."

It was the most Bandit had heard the other boy say in a long, long time. Bunny looked loving and caring and hesitant for a brief moment as Darkai embraced her.

Bandit tried not to be jealous.

But then Bunny pushed her boyfriend away. "What I want to know is," she began in her firm but gentle way, "why are you two fighting?"

Darkai and Bandit exchanged glances. "We're not..." They trailed off.

Bunny frowned. "Guys, it's clear as day that you two were fighting. Why? This"—here she hesitated—"This isn't about me, is it?"

Bandit felt like someone was clawing at his insides. "No, Bunny—please don't think that..."

She blinked her purple eyes at him; they were like pools of light against the rain. "I don't know what to think," she finally admitted.

Darkai stepped forward, drawing the purple Puff's eyes away from Bandit. "We're just training, Bunny."

"Out here? In the pouring rain?" She looked unconvinced. "It looked real to me."

How real? Bandit wondered. Did it look like we were ready to kill each other? He felt guilty, wondering whether or not they had scared Bunny.

"DARKAI!" barked Maxim's voice from the radio the boy was holding. "We're moving out. My side of the squadron, at least. Coal thinks he's got this covered, the arrogant bastard. Get the job done and let's go! Over and out."

Maxim's words "get the job done" hung in the air ominously, sending prickles down Bandit's arms. He wondered if Darkai would really kill him—if Bunny wasn't there to act as a witness...

Out loud, he said gruffly, "Bye, Bandit. My job is as finished as it can be for today." He turned to Bunny. "Let's get you home." Darkai blinked dark-blue eyes at him. They said everything he could not: "no one has to know I was fighting you and that I let you go".

Bunny glanced back at her counterpart once but he didn't meet her eyes. He only looked up when he could make out their retreating backs. Then he turned back to the remaining soldiers fighting the war.

There!

His eyes widened. It was Coal.

The arrogant, tall, silver-haired man stood close to the centre of the battlefield now, fighting against soldiers with relative ease.

Bandit felt all his rage and hatred crash into him full-force, almost knocking him over. It was him. Coal was the one who had badly injured Bandit once upon a time, making him feel like a failure and a bad leader in Brick's absence.**** Maybe I can take my frustrations out on him, Bandit thought, trying to ignore his throbbing arm. And with that thought, he flew toward the older man and tackled him.

Coal nearly stumbled backwards, but managed to steady himself by sliding a foot along the sleek grass in a semi-circle. The two skidded backwards a bit, but Coal didn't fall over. Bandit had to leap off when his opponent tried to slash him in the chest with his sword.

"Oh, what a surprise!" exclaimed Coal, clapping his hands together. "I wasn't expecting to be able to fight the great and powerful Bandit Jojo."

Bandit's hands lit up purple. "Well, here I am," he announced. His entire body seemed to glow faintly with the colour, and he felt power coursing through his veins.

Coal slashed his sword down through the air to rest at his side. "Would you mind if we had a bit of a sword-fight?" He smirked. "I hope you're as open to the idea as I am."

"Of course." He concentrated his powers and managed to create a purple blade from pure energy. Then he held it up with his right hand, bent his knees, and put out his left hand in front of him in a blocking gesture. "Let's fight."

Coal attacked first; slashing and swinging with all of his might. Bandit managed to block his onslaught of attacks with his own blade, but it wasn't easy. Coal seemed to be able to notice Bandit's every opening, every possible weakness...

The sword scratched Bandit's numb arm and he howled in pain as blood spurted out in a fountain. Growling, he skidded to a stop a few feet away from Coal and rubbed his arm.

"What's the matter, parum lupus?" Coal sneered, his face smug.

Bandit growled. He could feel his eyes light up red as purple energy began sizzling off of his skin, wreathing around him like a smokey haze. He could also hear Brick's warning voice in his ear, urging him to calm down: "Use your head and think, Bandit!" But before he could listen to the dismembered Brick voice—before he could even take a full, deep breath, Coal slammed his blade into the purple Ruff.

He coughed up blood. As he stared down, he could see the blade lodged in his skin. It had missed anything vital, but he could guess that Coal had missed on purpose.

It was horrible. There was nothing MORE INFURIATING in the whole world.

The purple energy clawed around his skin like mist, urging to break free. His eyes flashed.

Coal smirked. "Oops, sorry." Then he twisted the blade.

Bandit let out a hiss that sounded like sizzling steam, but didn't give his opponent the satisfaction of a scream of agony. He let the energy consume him; let it eat away at him. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, but this time they came out in thin, shallow rasps.

When he opened them, his eyes glowed a deep purple that was almost black.

Finally, the purple mist manifested in a dragon made from pure energy. Coal's eyes widened in surprise just as Bandit clamped his hands around the sword and yanked viciously, ripping it out of his skin.

Coal staggered backwards. And then he was being pummelled—the dragon let out a roar before tendrils shot out of the energy and stabbed through multiple places in Coal's body. He screeched as the tiny dots spurted out blood and he collapsed to the floor, breathing heavily. Bandit had punctured his skin at least four times.

The dragon flew further away from Bandit's body, uncoiling its tail. The harmless tail slowly morphed into a scorpion tail, with a poisonous barb, that it aimed to jam straight into Coal's heart.

Before Bandit could attack, however—and kill him—someone grabbed him by the arm. Bandit whirled around, hissing in his sizzling manner, ready to attack.

The person was Brick.

"Bandit, don't! Try not to lose control here. It's not safe; it's not a good idea... You've done enough; just leave him alone. Look, Coal might still die if we just leave him here. He's losing a lot of blood. But there's really no need to kill-him-kill-him!

Coal snarled, scrambling upwards in a sitting position. His entire body shuddered in a convulsion as blood dripped from the tiny holes in his skin.

Bandit stared down at him, his night sky gaze flashing violently. Then he twisted his head back to Brick's wide, red eyes and he felt a twinge of humanity wriggle back in. Suddenly, the animalistic parts of him backed off and he was left as a human boy again—well, one with powers, anyway. So not entirely human, but not a mindless monster either.

Coal sneered at him, trying to stop himself from bleeding. He looked faint though, as if he wasn't entirely there. "You'll...pay for this," he growled.

"Go die in a hole," Bandit retorted, although it was halfhearted and he barely meant it. He spun around and stalked off, barely aware of Fuchsia appearing to help carry Coal away.

Brick hurried to catch up with his brother. "Bandit, we have a new request."

"What is it?" he growled. "Fight some more?"

"No," Brick said, surprised. He was reading something on his phone before he rounded wide eyes on his brother, holding the device up to show him. "We're going to meet someone."

Bandit read the text and his own eyes widened. "Cassandra," he breathed out.

Sampson's daughter, Cassandra, had been unconscious for more than eighteen months. Bandit had seen her before; most memorably when he himself had had to stay at Sampson's home to recover from a fight where he'd been very badly injured—and that had been Coal's fault too.**** During that time, he'd still been acting as leader while Brick was absent due to his own unconsciousness.

And now she was awake and they were going to meet her.

---

Sampson's house wasn't far away. It was an ordinary, everyday-looking house that fit in well with the rest of the neighbourhood. It stood out in the fact that it was more '50's than modern, but it still looked pretty common.

It was painted yellow-gold, and years of survival had turned the paint pale. The roof was a deep shade of brown-gray and shutters were black. Outlines and edges were white. There were black flower boxes filled to the brim with roses and daisies and all kinds of flowers, but a few were wilting. It was fairly spacious, with two garage doors. There was porch that had a white railing and columns that held up a small overhang above the red front door. A white picket fence and lots of flowery bushes surrounded the house.

Brick knocked. Bandit waited, holding his breath, just as the door opened and Sampson beamed at them. "Welcome, welcome! Come in," the man urged, looking happier than they'd seen him in a long, long time.

Not a minute passed before the doorbell sounded and Sampson opened the door to Boomer and Braker and Blaster and Butch. The green Ruff was bruised and bleeding but he didn't have any major injuries. The yellow Ruff had hastily washed his hands, but streaks of dry blood remained. The blue Ruff looked as though he'd taken quite a beating. The orange Ruff looked ruffled and wet. Then Mojo and Him came, along with Harry.

The rain continued to beat the ground outside.

Sampson ushered them all in and then closed the door. "You're all here today for a momentous occasion," he announced. "My daughter has awakened from her coma and I have never been happier in my life."

"Oh, Father; stop it, will you? I don't need to be reminded of how long I've been gone."

"Of course, darling," Sampson said, smiling. "I understand. I just can't help it; being so happy and all. I want to shout it out to the world!"

A girl entered the room, with long tan hair. She was dressed in a simple white gown, and she looked fresh out of the shower. She giggled at her father's words. "Don't be silly."

Sampson smiled again. "Everyone, this is my daughter."

Harry rushed over to her and knelt down, clapping his hands onto her shoulders. "Is it really you?" he asked breathlessly. "You're really awake now?"

"Yes, Uncle Harry, it's me. I'm back." She smiled warmly at him.

The Rowdyruff Boys could see tears in the other man's eyes as he pulled the girl into a bone-crushing hug. "Welcome home, Cassie."

Then everyone started to greet her, all clamouring with excitement. As everyone said hi to her and welcomed her home though, Brick hung back. He wasn't quite sure what to say to her.

When Boomer finished saying hello to her, it was Brick's turn. He stood there awkwardly, shuffling from one leg to the other. "You mean...you're Cassandra?" Brick finally managed to say, his gaze sweeping over the girl with the long, silky tan hair.

She smiled, curtsying slightly as she tipped her head. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"So you're Sampson's daughter," Brick marvelled. "I've heard so much about you."

Her eyes trailed upwards but she did not lift her face. "And I you," she replied with a small smile.

There was something about the way she talked and the way she carried herself that Brick liked. Cassandra was obviously a sweet, good girl.

Bandit turned to Sampson. "I have a question for her, about the bomb that sent her into a coma. Is that alright?"

Her father frowned but Cassandra nodded. "That's perfectly alright; ask away," she replied.

"Do you still remember what happened that night?" Bandit asked. "Why was Danes making those bombs? What caused them to go off?"

Cassandra paused. "Hmm...it might be easier to tell you the whole story in order to answer your questions..."

Flashback

It had been a dark, cloudy night when it happened, and it had been raining just like it was tonight. The rain was light and there was little wind—for the most part, night was still.

Cassandra had been travelling with her father and his friends Harry and Fillip and some other soldiers to a shed they believed Danes was using as a base of some sort. Cassandra had discovered it and she wanted to check the area out. They had entered the area cautiously, watching for Danes' men and any other suspicious activity. There hadn't been any sign of trouble.

Samson did a gesture with his hand. "Follow me", it read. Everyone was crouching, and they all started trudging after him up to the shed door.

It was locked.

Cassandra slipped forward, pulling out a hairpin and fiddling with the lock until she managed to pick it open. Then she pushed open the door. It opened with a low, long creak, but it wasn't loud enough to set off alarms in anyone's head—if they were patrolling the area, that was.

It seemed like there was no one, which was incredibly confusing. Danes usually left all his bases covered. An unguarded base was highly suspicious. It was either too closed off to be worried about, too dangerous, or abandoned.

Or, it could've been a trap.

No one said that however, perhaps because they didn't believe it or because they believed it so much they were too scared to say it loud. Or perhaps they just didn't want to jinx the mission. Whatever the reason was, no one said anything that would suggest a trap and everyone stepped inside.

The shed was dark and mostly empty. Barely any light filtered in. The only window it had was covered up. Where gray light did get through, Cassandra could only see dust particles floating through the air.

She circled the shed, looking at lab tables and equipment curiously. The room didn't smell quite right, as if it were made up of ashes and smoke. And despite its wooden appearance, the contents of the shed (sparse as they were) were a little more modern. Metal lab tables lined three of the walls. The fourth wall was covered by a cabinet and drawers. There was a table in the centre, and gray light spilled over it. On the middle table sat a strange, black cube.

"Is there any way to get a light?" Cassandra called out softly, trying to get her eyes to readjust. In the darkness, she could see Harry fumble around before shaking her head. So then she lifted her phone and turned on the the flashlight. She circled the room with the light, but nothing stood out from the ordinary.

The room was still plainly simple and desperately empty. Even the cabinet and all its files had been emptied.

"Perhaps it's abandoned," Cassandra mused.

"Or perhaps they know we're here," growled Harry, his eyes roaming the area.

Cassandra frowned. It didn't seem likely, considering how eerily abandoned the entire room felt. It just gave off shivery vibes.

Scraaaaape.

Cassandra froze, spinning around toward the direction of the noise. What was that?

Scraaaaape. Scraaaaaape.

Her heart was hammering. It was like someone had shook her too much and now every part of her body was shaking or moving and they wouldn't stop. Worry clawed at her stomach.

Just then, the door creaked open and a black silhouette stuck its head in. "I know you're there," the voice said.

Scraaaaape.

The door creaked open further. "I know you're trying to hide and investigate. But it won't do you any good."

Harry's "I-told-you-so" look did little to help Cassandra's mood.

The man that entered blocked out the gray light that tried to filter in from the door. His shoulders were broad and his hair was long and gray. There was no doubt who the man was: it was none other than Danes himself.

"I'm not surprised that you came to investigate," Danes claimed, sliding into the room with an absurd amount of grace for a man his size. "That is the exact reason I left this place unguarded. It is empty and basically abandoned, but it is still useful."

Cassandra could feel her heart beating faster out of fear; she found it hard to hear anything else. She wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and took a quiet, deep breath. She could feel her father squeeze her hand.

Danes took a step forward. The light was behind him, making it hard to see his face because of the shadows hiding his face. "You have three seconds to show yourselves before you all die."

Cassandra glanced at her father, and he nodded sadly. They glanced at the other members of their group, all of whom who nodded—although Harry mostly just grunted lowly. Then they all stood up.

"Hmm. There's more of you than I expected," Danes mused aloud. "I hate to admit it, but I may not be able to handle all of you on my own."

"Yeah, you better cower in fear and run!" sneered Harry.

For the first time since this nerve-wracking man had stepped into the shed, Cassandra began to relax. The fear that had clouded her mind was starting to leave, and she could see now that Danes had a point. Their squadron was of 12 people, which was a dozen more than Danes—who was very scary—but was still just one man.

But then Danes tilted his head to the side. Some light hit his face, and Cassandra saw the terrifying, out-of-place, sharp-toothed smile the man wore.

"So I'll just kill you all."

Before Cassandra could react, she saw Danes whip out a device and hit a button. Then he vanished as the door slammed shut. Cassandra felt terror slam into her body the same moment the door closed and darkness filled the room. "Father..." she whispered, eyes wide as she spun around to face Sampson. Her voice was panicked. "Father, did you hear what he said?"

Sampson blinked. "I heard him, Cassie, but surely he was just bluffing—"

"Let's get out of here," Harry snarled, hurrying toward the door. It was locked from the outside. "Fuck, we're locked in!"

"Maybe there's another way out," one of the people on their team suggested. They circled the room. "Hmm...what's this?" they asked, reaching out to poke the black box on the table in the middle of the room.

Cassandra's eyes widened as realization struck her. "NO, DON'T TOUCH THAT!" she screamed. The person reaching out for the box froze.

"Cassie, what's the matter?" cried Sampson in dismay, eyes wide.

"Yeah, what are you freaking out about?" Harry demanded, staring at her quizzically.

"I-It's a bomb," she explained tearfully. "I'm sure of it."

Sampson's eyes widened.

"Don't be ridiculous," Harry began, although he sounded nervous now. "Danes can't have been—"

"It's a bomb, I just know it," Cassandra cried.

Harry and Sampson exchanged concerned looks, frowning.

"Then maybe we can use this bomb for our own gains," Sampson finally suggested. "If we're locked in from the outside, then let's try using the bomb to get us out."

"But won't that require touching it?" asked Harry, crinkling his nose. He frowned at the black device.

"Then we'll just have to be quick," Sampson finally said after much from contemplation. He stepped forward, reaching out to grab the bomb.

"NO!" screamed Cassandra, dashing forward to grab her father around the waist. "DON'T DO IT!" she begged, starting to tear up.

"Cassie..." Sampson's eyes grew bleak and soft.

"I'll try then," Harry said. He walked over to the bomb and Cassandra began to cry even harder. She finally dared to let go of her father as Harry reached the black device.

It wasn't because she believed that Harry's life was more valuable than her father's that she cried harder; it was because she didn't dare to stop him in case her father would step back in. She felt terribly guilty at her selfishness, but her heart wouldn't allow her to be brave.

Through thick tears, she watched from behind her father's back as Harry very quickly grabbed the box and swiped it at the door with such strong force that it smashed into the wood.

Almost immediately, it exploded.

The blast ricocheted against the shed walls, deafening and full of heat. Cassandra was barely aware of people like Harry jumping behind tables and cabinets to shield themselves. Cassandra screamed for her father but her voice was lost amongst the blast. She tackled her father into the wall. She could feel searing heat behind her, and it made her so, so scared.

When she slammed into the wall, the blast knocked against her ribs and everything started to ache. Black spots danced around in her vision and she curled up. Everything hurts, everything hurts, everything hurts...

The blast of the explosion slammed into her and she found herself losing consciousness. She was barely aware of her father screaming her name before she sank into a deep, deep sleep.

I'm sorry, Father. And I love you.

"CASSANDRA!"

At least I managed to protect you.

End Flashback

"Wow," Braker said when Cassandra finished her tale. "That's insane."

She nodded absently, sitting down with her head in her hands. "I can't believe I've been gone for more than eighteen months," she murmured.

"But you're back now," Sampson added quickly, "and that's all that matters."

Cassandra looked up and smiled at her father. Then she glanced around the room. "So what's happened in those eighteen months? Is the war over?"

The Rowdyruff Boys exchanged glances. Brick stepped forward, holding his hands out in an apologetic fashion. "I'm sorry to say that you've awoken in the middle of the war. It's still going on, and it's worse than ever."

"How could that be?" she exclaimed in dismay. "It's been eighteen months, hasn't it? Why isn't it over?"

Sampson let out a low growl. "Danes isn't going to let go of the past so easily, Cassie. He'll stop at nothing to make sure we pay for Damon's crimes."

"It's not just that," Brick continued quickly, trying to avoid the topic about whether Damon was really bad or good. "The war is escalating quickly. Mojo and I predict that we may reach a climax soon."

Cassandra groaned in a ladylike fashion. "I can't believe I woke up in the middle of the war. Well, this really ruins my happiness at being awake again."

Sampson stroked her hair. "It's okay—you don't have to fight if you don't want to," he said soothingly.

She straightened her back. "If you're fighting, then so am I," she replied determinedly. "I'm not going to sit here and do nothing."

Despite his worries, Sampson couldn't help but smile.

Brick continued speaking. "There's more," he announced.

"What more is there to add?" she questioned, staring at him bleakly.

He took a deep, long breath. "Damon's come back."

At first there was pure silence as everyone waited for a response from Cassandra. Then her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open and she let out a startled cry of "how can this be!?"

Brick winced. He began telling the tale of Damon's return: how many injuries had happened during the war, and then Christie's kidnapping, and then Damon's reveal... He left out the part about his brothers and him trying to figure out Damon's morals, however.

When he finished, Cassandra was mortified. "I never thought...I never knew"—she shook her head to clear it—"I didn't think Damon would be so awful. I know he went insane and killed his best friend after the love of his life was stolen from him, but I never thought that he was still alive. And even in that case, I didn't think his insanity would have extended to now. His story always seemed kind of romantic, even though it was so awful and it broke the truce and it set war in motion. But that—what he did now—that is just horrible!"

Brick nodded. "Damon's not right in the head anymore. We've all seen that for ourselves." He paused, hesitating. "Okay, there's one more thing to add."

"Oh no, not more," she managed to say in dismay.

"We found out that Damon has a twin brother." When Cassandra blinked, startled, he went on: "And not only that, but his brother has also survived a fire from the boys' childhood despite him having been believed to be dead. His name is Raymond."

"Oh goodness, this is just too much to take in," she murmured, rubbing her temples. "That is a lot of information."

He nodded. "I'm sorry our first meeting had to be this way, Cassandra. Everything that's happened in the war has been beyond my control." He hesitated. "But...we have a plan."

Bandit and the rest of his brothers shot him an incredulous look that said "we do?".

Brick ignored them. "There is another boy that's been unconscious for awhile just like you. If you could get to know him better, then we'd have an advantage in this battle..."

---

"Ow!" cried Banana, staring down at her hand. Red blood bubbled from the tiny scratch on her thumb, causing her to frown. Why am I so distracted? She couldn't help but wonder as she put the dress in her hands back down.

"Are you okay?" came Bunny's voice as she set down a box of fabrics, looking over at her sister in concern.

Banana turned back to the purple Puff and nodded. "I'll be fine," she answered, using her non-injured hand to rub the spot between her eyes. "It's just a tiny scratch."

"Maybe we should finish up for the day," Bunny offered, leaning against the table as she gazed at the cluttered mess laid out on the table before them. "I know this project is really important, but—"

"I know, I know. We've been here for two hours already." Banana sighed. Does this even matter anymore? I started this project to cheer Blaster up, but he doesn't look like he needs it anymore. Her mind automatically thought back to the girl with the silky long blond hair and turquoise eyes against her will. He seems so happy with her.

Bunny seemed to sense her sister's discontent. "Cheer up, Bansy. We're almost done," she said in her soft but cheerful Bunny way.

Banana shook her head. She'd misunderstood the yellow Puff's reason for the sigh. But why do I care anyway? I have a boyfriend, and Blaster is just a friend. What does it matter if he gets a girlfriend of his own?

Almost involuntarily, she wondered if this was how Blaster had felt when she first started dating Michael.

Is it jealousy? No, it can't be... We're just friends, she told herself fiercely. So am I just being a protective friend...?

"Bansy...? Are you alright?" Bunny questioned, tilting her head to the side.

"Sorry; just thinking." She shook her head again to clear it. To stop her mind from wandering again, she began wiping the blood from her wound and putting a band-aid on top of it.

"I think we should finish up," Bunny repeated, concern flashing within her purple orbs. "You should probably take a break. I think you need a break."

She sighed. "Maybe you're right," she murmured awkwardly.

The two cleaned up and then Banana made her way for the door. The two sisters then flew out of the school and back home, where Banana went straight to her room and collapsed on her bed.

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, the shadows spilling into her room from the window were different from when she'd gotten home. She checked her phone. She'd slept for two hours. Four hours of my time after school, gone, she thought. Sighing, she sat up and stretched.

Her mind was still a little groggy. She tried to clear it, but it went straight to Blaster and then Michael—the two boys who'd been occupying the space in her brain for days now. It was frustrating, always being so distracted. Banana was used to paying attention, being focused, and being an all-around "perfect" person.

Nowadays her brain was always muddled and her movements were always a little slower than before.

Sighing again—which she seemed to be doing a lot of lately—she floated into her bathroom and checked on herself. Her hair, which was tied in its usual low pigtails, looked mussed. She smoothed them out with a comb before staring at her reflection.

Maybe I should try something different.

She piled her hair atop her head in a giant bun, sighed, and tied it all together. Then she made her way to her room and changed out of her uniform.

Her new outfit consisted of a black top with a small yellow jacket that didn't reach her hips. She also wore a yellow skirt. She grabbed her yellow purse.

Banana flew down the stairs. "I'm heading out," she called to no one in particular. Without waiting for an answer, she burst out of the house and launched herself into the air, leaving a yellow streak behind her.

Spinning into the air, Banana breathed in the freshness of nature and dove downwards, making her way through the neighbourhood and toward the grocery store. She was sure that doing some grocery shopping would clear up her head.

Landing at the small grocery store, Banana looked around. It wasn't busy. In fact, it was pretty empty at this time of the day.

She relaxed. That's the way I like it. Then she walked inside.

Cheerful music played over the loudspeakers, and a few people bustled about. Banana was about to make her way to the frozen meat section, until she saw something that made her freeze in place.

It was Blaster.

He was dressed as stylishly as usual. A yellow sweater jacket was draped over his shoulders and his shirt was a complimentary sky-blue. His gray skinny jeans hugged his legs and his soft blond hair fell around his face, covering one eye. He was inspecting a couple fruits.

Banana swallowed hard and ducked behind a shelf of bread, breathing shallowly.

Blaster looked up and around, before shrugging and turning back to the fruits laid out before him.

She dared to take a peek outside, still barely daring to breathe in case he saw her. Why are you hiding? It's not like you're avoiding each other—well, outside of the project, that is. It's much more suspicious just hiding here than saying a plain hello, she scolded herself. Banana took a deep breath to steady herself and got ready to call out. But when she opened her mouth, someone else's voice rang out.

"Blaster...!"

Banana looked. It was that girl again, the one with the blond hair and turquoise eyes. She was dressed in a fashionable white dress with a thick yellow jacket that Banana recognized as the one Blaster had given her. She also wore high-heeled black boots that reached her ankles.

She's so beautiful.

Banana shoved the thought away as the girl—Christie—began to speak in a rush.

"What are you even doing here? You were just here yesterday!"

He smiled at her in a way Banana didn't recognize. "I could say the same about you," he replied affectionately. "Also, what's with the jacket? Are you just wearing that everyday now?"

"No, I just wore it today because I was happy and it makes me happy." She beamed at him.

Blaster looked amused. "You're certainly in a better mood than when I last saw you yesterday. What's up?"

Christie's words came in a wave all over again: "Oh well Michael just woke up and I just have to prepare a feast we're holding tonight and you should totally come because I would love to see you there and you could probably get Vix to leave me alone because I swear to dear God—"

"Whoa, slow down a bit," he interjected gently, yellow eyes surprised. "Who did you say woke up?"

"Michael!" she announced happily. "Can you believe it? It's been forever!"

Michael? Banana froze. My... My boyfriend? Her heart started pounding.

"Oh, that's great news." Blaster smiled, but he didn't sound very enthusiastic.

"Hey, I know you two don't get along, but there's no reason to sound so unhappy about it," Christie teased.

"I know," he chuckled back. "I really am happy to hear that; honestly. I would never want Michael to die, even if we're not the best of friends. Also, I'm happy for you."

Banana thought she saw a blush form briefly on the other girl's cheeks and she felt a stab of something. Jealousy? Longing? Protectiveness? I can't possibly want Blaster to look at me like that. So what's wrong? Do I miss how Michael looks at me like that?

"You're still invited to the feast, you know," Christie offered, causing Banana's attention to return to their conversation.

"I'd love to, but I don't think your parents—or Danes or anyone for that matter—would really approve," he pointed out.

She pouted. "Well they should if I invite you."

He smiled. "You're cute when you pout."

Both girls seemed to freeze and stop breathing. Both girls seemed to have a million thoughts racing through them at once.

But Christie was the one who broke out of it first. "Thanks," she said almost shyly.

Blaster smiled back kindly, before pausing as his nose twitched. He bared his teeth, slowly turning so that he blocked Christie. He stretched out an arm to cover her. "Don't look now, but I think we're being watched."

Banana's heart started hammering against her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut. Have I been found out? Have I—

"Looks like you found me."

The voice that answered Blaster's snarl was definitely not her own. Banana peeked out and nearly jumped out of her skin to see a boy manifesting out of the shadows in the shelf literally right in front of her to the left.

He had red hair and green eyes. Or at least, one of them was green. The other was hidden by an eyepatch, but Banana assumed that he had a pair of eyes with only one colour like most people.

He was certainly not dressed like most people, though—he wore a white uniform that almost resembled a kimono or yukata or hanfu of some kind, complete with bell-top sleeves and a sash around his waist.

"Vix," growled Blaster, bristling.

Banana recognized that name from here and there.

"Oh, just ignore him," Christie said impatiently, "he's been following me around all day as if he's glued to me. I don't understand why he's suddenly taking his bodyguard job so seriously. It's like he thinks I can't take care of myself and that privacy doesn't matter." Here she shot the redheaded boy a glare.

"I told you why," he shot back. "Your parents will kill me if I let anything happen to you."

"She's safe with me," Blaster answered promptly.

"Is she? She's not even on your side! Why are you two so close?" Vix demanded.

"She's different," the yellow Ruff said almost defensively. His eyes were narrowed, flashing dangerously. Banana knew that look—it was the look Blaster got when he was angry.

Like, really angry.

She recalled the time in the café when Blaster had been battling someone who was chasing him for some reason. He'd let loose his inner monster and nearly killed his attackers. Banana and Michael had been there.*****

Christie seemed to sense this too because she grabbed Vix by the arm. "Stop it!" she hissed; Banana had to strain to hear her with her super-hearing. "What are you doing, running around just trying to cause trouble!?"

Vix glared back at her, yanking his arm back from her, causing her to look kind of hurt. So at least she cares about him in some way, Banana thought with some sort of odd relief—since she didn't even know either of them very well—and then he was talking, his voice rising despite his attempts to keep it low and even. "I'm running around trying to protect you for your own good because you can't seem to keep your head on about you!"

Christie's face contorted from hurt to offended rage. "Is that what you think of me!?" she demanded.

"If you're going to hang out with the enemy, then maybe that is what I think of you!" he snapped back.

"SHE'S SAFE WITH ME!" Blaster repeated in a loud snarl. It sounded so sinister, so animalistic, so angry—Banana felt her heart shudder with fear. It was now pounding terribly hard, knocking against her ribs; it was the only thing she could hear as a terrible silence descended, and she was so worried they could hear it even though that was ridiculous and impossible but it was just so SO loud—

Vix grabbed Christie by the wrist. "We should go."

Blaster let out a guttural sound that almost sounded like it could rise to a roar. He reached out and tried to grab Vix, but the other dodged easily and pulled out a—OMIGOD IS THAT A SWORD. Banana's mind was spinning.

I have to do something. But what!?

She was rooted to the spot. She took another peek outside and saw Christie's wide eyes—she looked terrified now, unsure who was more dangerous. Vix looked equally unsettled, as if he didn't actually want to hurt the yellow Ruff. That thought was kind of comforting, but it didn't change the fact that he still had a sword pointed straight at Blaster's heart.

The yellow Ruff lumbered forward, hands tightening into a fist that he swung back just as Vix shut his eyes and swung his own arm forward and then—

"STOP!"

Everyone stopped as they all turned to stare at Banana flying out of her hiding place and skidding to a stop between Vix and Blaster. She knocked the sword from the redheaded boy's hands, and it clattered uselessly to the ground. At the same time, she reached out and punched Blaster squarely in the chest.

Letting out a loud "oof" and a gasp for air, the Ruff staggered backwards and nearly fell into the fruit section back first.

"Blaster!" both girls cried, but as Banana was closer, she was the one who caught him. One arm was wrapped around his body and the other held his head as she gazed into his clouded yellow eyes. The light from the fruit section illuminated their sides in a strangely romantic—

"Banana?" he coughed.

She blushed and immediately pulled him upwards, before quickly letting go. He turned to her, but Christie raced forward, speaking first: "Are you okay?" she cried.

When he looked at her, she paused tentatively. He smiled almost sadly. "It's safe now; I'm sorry." He held his hands up in show of how he wasn't being a danger anymore. "I-I lost control. I'm sorry," he repeated. His gaze swivelled towards Vix, transforming into a glower. "If he got one thing right, it's that I can be dangerous."

"I know that, but I"—here she faltered—"I like you, Blaster." Christie took a deep breath.

Vix froze. Banana nearly choked. Blaster's eyes widened.

Christie took another deep breath and grabbed Blaster by the collar, causing him to lean forward rapidly. Banana's eyes widened. No no no no no.

And then she was kissing him and Banana wanted to scream and she couldn't focus on anything else anymore except for them and it was horrible but she didn't know why and then she was running—running away from them and their kissing and their feelings for one another that were so obviously there. She was running from her hurting heart, but she didn't know why.

---

"You take up a lot of energy," Damon mused, poking the tube. He watched as the thing growing inside of it ate, before leaning back and smiling with a shake of his head.

"I have so many grand plans for you, you know," he announced, brushing his fingers against the glass. "You'll have to grow up big and strong in order to complete them."

Silence answered him; just like always. As expected.

Damon whistled quietly, singing a lullaby he remembered from when he was younger. From when he was still with Raymond; when Raymond had still been a part of him. From when he had had parents.

He closed his eyes.

He preferred not to think about the past. It was easier to focus on the present.

And the future.

Damon opened his eyes and tapped the glass again. The thing growing inside shifted slowly. This thing that he had created was now a part of his future. It would help bring him the future he wanted.

A future where everything he'd ever wanted was his. Love. Family. Respect. Fear. Attention.

He typed some things into a keypad, now distracted by visions of the future. This always made him feel better; imagining how successful he'd be soon.

This thing he'd built with his own two hands would guarantee it. It would help him succeed in all of his plans and it would be part of that future and success.

But first, it had to help him liven up the war, which was becoming slow and boring.

"You hear that?" he asked, peering into the tube. "You'll help me. And that starts with spicing up this war."

The thing twitched in response.

He smiled. "Help Daddy win the war and we'll have everything we ever wanted," he told it. "I promise."

---

*(A/N: Reference to chapter 55!)

**(A/N: Reference to PPG Episode "Bubble Boy"!)

***(A/N: Reference to chapter 57!)

****(A/N: Reference to chapter 47!)

*****(A/N: Reference to chapter 44!)

ME: Well, that's all done! Look at all the crazy stuff happening haha.

BANANA: . . .

BLASTER: Welp. That was sudden.

ME: Yeah, Blaster and Christie might be a thing now! And what about Michael and Banana now that Michael's awake...? Or Vix!

BLOSSOM: Leave a review, everyone!

ME: And once again...Happy New Year! Have a wonderful 2016! Thanks for all the support~