Like a good communist, I own nothing.

"Gauntlet: Lies"
Part 3

May 8

Butch lost himself in his fury.

He'd built up a lot of it recently, and more than ever, it needed an outlet. Again, harder, he drove his fists into the tough surface of the punching bag. It gave, kept in place only by Boomer who stood behind it. If not for the blonde Rowdyruff, it would have soared into and through a nearby wall. Butch leaned back, breathing heavily. There was still energy, still anger, in him. He vowed to keep pushing, keep going, until he had again exhausted himself.

Then he would take a scalding hot shower; he would be cleansed and his mind cleared.

"Butch?" Boomer asked, breaking his brother's concentration.

Butch hit the bag again, and tried not to imagine it was someone's face. He tried so hard at that.

"What?" He took a second to reply, before striking again and again, harder and more savage with every blow.

"Do ya ever think about the girls?"

"What girls?" Butch played dumb.

"You know what girls." Boomer winced a bit as a hard kick to the bag almost sent him flying. Butch's strength always amazed Boomer, never more than when he saw his brother work out.

"Yeah. I suppose I do." Butch wiped some sweat from his brow.

"Is that a yes to... what girls, or do you think about them?"

"...Both, I guess. But not that often. They're Brick's pet project, not mine."

"I was just... wondering about why they're so different..."

"Whatdoya' mean different?" Butch attacked again, and the tough bag began to deform under the barrage.

"Like... you told us they see each other in their dreams sometimes. Why can't we do that?"

Butch thought about it for a second, though, really, not for the first time.

"They've been around longer. It didn't happen automatically, if I recall the story."

"I suppose that makes sense." Boomer looked a bit down in the dumps.

"Come on, that's sissy stuff anyway, you know that! YEA!" Butch seemed to revert into a feral rage for all of a few seconds before falling backwards, totally exhausted. Sweat trickled down his head, but he looked immeasurably content. Boomer was about to voice another, closer to home, concern that had been on his mind when the sound of footsteps caught his attention.

"Hey, pops." Butch spoke up first as Mojo walked in, looking like he always did.

"What's up?" Boomer asked, smiling. A little attention from their creator would be big lift after the last few days had left him doubting so many core things he'd come to depend on. Brick's odd departures and trips, Butch's intense training to the point of masochism... Mojo was no better, though, Boomer reminded himself. A bitterness mixed with hope: Mojo hadn't taken time to talk to them in days.

"Hello, my boys." He held his arms out. "How are you two today, that is to say: how have things been? Have you been causing any recent mischief?"

"Here and there." Boomer didn't mind when Mojo gave him a warm hug, though he pretended to. Their creator went to Butch next, lifting him off the floor.

"I just wanted to inform you of the fact that I am very proud of you boys. Very proud. Of all of Mojo Jojo's greatest creations, you are the very greatest, which is why I am most proud of you! It is because of this pride that I want to know what you have been up to recently. It is no secret that I have been busy, occupied, working on my most recent, second greatest, invention... it is almost complete, and I wish you boys to aid me in testing it!"

"Hey, sure! No problem!" Boomer was all smiles.

"Yeah. No sweat, pops," Butch seconded.

"Good." Mojo's smile broadened, revealing sharp simian teeth. "Get dressed. It would not be proper for the people of Townsville to see you unkempt, unruly, or improperly prepared for the occasion!"

Boomer suddenly got a bad feeling about this little outing. He had a hunch that Mojo wasn't implying anything along the lines of a fishing trip.

And where was Brick?

"Numerous land based search planes and helicopters from nearby Navy Destroyers were sent to comb the area where the tanker was last reported, but Coast Guard sources are not optimistic about finding any survivors. The loss of the 'Vanderhalt' represents the largest in a series of mysterious vessel disappearances on around the greater Townsville area and all its approaching sea-lanes. In addition to several million dollars worth of processed materials and equipment, over sixty..."

Blossom didn't normally listen to the news.

Most often, it lost its appeal when you were so often at the center of important events. Seeing things on the television or hearing them on the radio was a poor substitute for being there, and a poorer substitute for actually being involved. She listened today, however. She was not there. She had not been there. Not for the hundreds of people missing somewhere out at sea.

So she listened to the news during recess, and Miss Keane listened with her. Blossom hadn't known that her teacher even had a radio, much less that she had frequently turned it on whenever the Girls shot off to save the day. Perhaps she was living vicariously through her students. Perhaps she was just curious what those calls the Girls always got were about.

She'd never listened with anyone else, however.

"Hey! Look at that! A shooting star!" Bubbles suddenly yelled.

"Where?" A chorus of voices asked, as one. A dozen children looked up.

"I don't see any stupid shooting star!" Mitch growled. "Where is it?"

"Look! Right there!" Bubbles turned to Buttercup. "You see it, don't you?"

Buttercup sighed. She wasn't in the best shape after starting a fight with Brick last night, and was more interested in sleeping under a tree than some far off stellar phenomenon. Still, she opened her eyes and gave a cursory look over the clear blue sky. Sitting up a little more, her sensitive eyes focused on something high above them.

"Yeah. It's just a rock." Buttercup let out a deep breath and went back to relaxing. "You saw lots of them last time we went into space."

"It's not just a rock." Blossom felt the urge to correct and educate, no: enlighten her sisters. "It's a meteor, and could be metallic, icy, or rocky. I see it too, but with all this cloud cover I don't think anyone else will."

"Do you think it'll hit us, Miss Keane?" One of the other kids asked.

"Maybe it'll wack Townsville!" Mitch snickered. Another boy laughed at that.

"It isn't nearly as large as the last one." Miss Keane felt very odd saying that. 'Last one.' How often was a giant asteroid supposed to fall directly towards the city anyway? ...Then again, this WAS Townsville. "It should burn up before it gets close."

Not surprisingly, the Hotline rang.

"I'll get it!" Blossom rushed to answer the phone. So many things were vying for attention; she wondered which one the call was about. There were the disappearances at sea, the falling meteor, the ever-present danger of monster attacks, and even... "Mojo Jojo?!"

Blossom couldn't believe it. "Mayor, are you sure?" There was a moment's pause while he seemingly went to look outside. "Yes... yes, Mayor, that's what Mojo looks like. Ok. We'll handle it."

Mojo?

What was he thinking, actively wreaking havoc in Townsville?

Shaking her head and focusing her thoughts, she shot outside. "Bubbles, Buttercup! Let's go!"

Miss Keane watched the three take off.

Turning around, she saw her radio and smiled.

"Muwhahahaha!!" Mojo's voice resounded through the streets as he stomped another car into a pancake and kicked over a small building on his way to City Hall. He had vastly improved his Robo Jojo when his recent influx of funds and information. When he saw a lone red streak across the sky, he knew his quarry had come to face him. It would now, finally, be time to get his house in order.

"Mojo!" Brick yelled as he slowed down, stopping cold just meters away from the glass dome in which Mojo commanded his massive robot. "What, exactly, are you doing, pops?"

"What should have been done many days ago!" Mojo's voice boomed from his machine. "I'm taking over Townsville!!"

'From me,' Brick realized, silently.

Mojo's plan was a simple one, he saw. Mojo would go on a rampage, and Brick would be discredited and lose power and influence no matter the outcome. If he fought against Mojo, then he would be betraying the 'head' of the family, and it would be a legitimate reason for having Brick disgraced in front of his brothers. His leadership of the Rowdyruffs would suffer if he took a stand against Mojo, their creator, and their father. They'd also lose their home - The Observatory - that they'd worked so hard to return to. That he'd worked so hard to return to.

On the other hand, if he sided with Mojo, then he would lose the delicately maintained balance of fear and awe, and carefully built influence, that had been cultivated over the last week or so. He would also lose face by submitting to Mojo's authority. Do or do not do, he was going to pay for it.

Brick was honestly surprised Mojo hadn't tried it before. Most likely, he was in preparation in case Brick took the third option: He could kill Mojo, and in so doing take his place. It would be an act of succession, almost. It wouldn't be too hard, in theory. All he'd have to do is repeat what the Powerpuff Girls commonly did to Mojo, and not hold back at the end. Of course, Butch and Boomer would take it hard, but Brick was confident that his leadership would compensate, especially if it looked like an accident, and especially if it looked like it was Mojo's own fault.

There remained a problem with that, however.

Brick wanted Mojo alive. Regardless of his self-destructive criminal tendencies, extreme narcissism, and sadistic leanings, he was still a brilliant mind, and would likely come in handy in the future conflagration. So, in the long run, killing Mojo was far less attractive than it was in the short term. What, then, was he to do? Truly, he'd have been up the creek without a paddle... if not for the fact that he'd seen such an obvious tactic coming beforehand and planned for it.

Slowly, Brick smiled.

"Mojo Jojo... what kind of crazy off the wall scheme do you have cooked up now?" Brick looked around carefully and saw Butch and Boomer watching the proceedings carefully from a nearby rooftop. "Surely you're not going to just abduct the Mayor again, are you? That's hardly anything new, and frankly I don't think that many people would care."

"My Plans are only to be revealed to those I can trust! You are either with me or against me! There is no in between, there is no other choice, there is no middle ground! With or against! Against or with!"

"Against what? With what?" Brick stalled. "How can I be against a plan I know nothing of? All I see is you, in your crazy machine, smashing everything in sight like you've lost your mind."

At the controls of his Robo Jojo, Mojo began to get nervous and angry. He hadn't had an actual plan to take Townsville, beyond smashing some things and forcing a confrontation with his disrespectful protégé. He tried to come up with something on the fly, and fell back on old habits.

"Together, you must help me destroy the Powerpuff Girls! They must first fall before Townsville can be taken, and once they have, then the world shall be mine! I, Mojo Jojo, shall rule all the earth!!"

"If you were after the Powerpuff Girls, then why were you attacking the city and not the suburb where they live?"

Crazy?

Mojo's robot began to show his unease. Its massive hands clenched and unclenched. Mojo was losing self-control, and Brick knew the signs all too well.

Crazy?

Not making sense.

Not thinking rationally.

"Just tell me what you're thinking, please!" He pressed forward, his words sharp and biting. "You're not making any sense! You're not thinking rationally! Don't you have a plan of action for us to follow? You should have just asked me... I could have helped you think one up."

Crazy!

Smashing everything!

Lost your mind!

LOST YOUR MIND!!

"I have... had... enough of your back talk young man!!" The Robo Jojo's arm lashed out, a huge metal fist smashed into Brick's face and sent him flying. He hadn't even tried to dodge; he just went limp in midair, and on impact, sent half the Townsville City Hall's domed roof falling down on the Mayor and his staff.

"Brick!" Boomer rushed forward, past Mojo. On his heels, a green streak flew by as well.

Mojo's giant robot took a few steps back and away. He finally realized what he'd done, both to Brick, and to himself. Still, a measure of stubborn ego kept him from making any attempt at an apology or amends.

"Boy... That was for your own good..." His voice came out over the robot's speakers so clearly, carried emotion so tangibly, he could have been standing there, next to Boomer or Butch as they steadied Brick back on his feet. A long trickle of blood dripped down the red Rowdyruff's jaw, and he gently shook his brothers off, standing alone.

Through the gaping hole in City Hall, between two different worlds, Mojo and Brick's eyes met. Then, suddenly, three trails of light blue, green and pink plowed into the side of Mojo's Robo Jojo. The impact sent it stumbling. Its armor had been improved and reinforced, but it had also been hit unprepared. Almost as an afterthought, the robot's hands lashed out, trying to swat the tiny titans that were swarming it and pounding away at the heavy crystal dome from which Mojo commanded those around him. Maybe his heart wasn't into the fight, maybe he was simply out matched against the three Powerpuffs, maybe he was simply caught unprepared, regardless: the fight was brief.

"Curses!" Mojo crawled from the smashed dome. Buttercup had given him a hard right to the jaw, and Blossom had kicked him in the gut, but he was still mobile. Getting to his feet, he pulled out a small gun - an emergency sidearm - and fired at the three super powered girls. In seconds, despite his rolling and tumbling, in true John Woo action style, the gun was melted, and he took another painful blow to the jaw that sent him sprawling.

Looking up, he saw Blossom, fist cocked back, ready to finish the job and knock him out cold. She was stopped short when another red blur intercepted her fist, catching it just a few inches before it could find its mark. Brick stood over Mojo, one hand blocking Blossom's fist at the wrist.

"What are you doing?!" Blossom raged, her tone righteous.

She'd seen, Mojo instantly knew.

"What I have to." Brick forced her arm back. He didn't stand between Blossom and Mojo, but to the side, ready to intervene if need be. The irony of the role reversal came and went for both of them in an instant.

"I saw what he did to you!" She yelled. "He wrecked part of Townsville! How can you defend him?"

"He's my father," Brick answered, simply. 'And,' He almost wanted to add, 'When his time comes, it will be by my hand, not yours!'

"Your father...? He isn't your father! Just because someone made you, doesn't make them..." Her lips drew together tightly, not sure how much to say, how much Brick or his brothers wanted to hear. Butch and Boomer hadn't said anything, but they were behind their brother. They would follow his lead - never more so than now.

"Go home, Bloss." Brick wiped some fresh blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

"I... "She looked over her shoulder at her sisters, looking for some sort of support for staying and getting involved. Bubbles was unreadable: maybe just confused at what was going on. Buttercup had her arms crossed and was looking away. It was obvious she didn't feel comfortable with what had happened, and thus had decided to try and ignore it. Blossom turned back to Brick. He hadn't moved a muscle.

"Sometimes... you should listen to other people." She said to him, softly. "It'll make you a better person."

He was silent.

"It ...It did for me." She turned away, and took off. Buttercup and Bubbles followed.

"Boomer. Butch. Help Mojo up." Brick's words were cold, commanding. Neither of his brothers argued. They carefully lifted their creator by the shoulders and headed home, Brick leading the way. Looking up at the sky, Brick's eyes narrowed in recognition.

That Mojo had bad timing was of no doubt.

The next One was almost here.

It did not have intelligence as the word was conventionally thought of. It did, however, have goals and desire, and the means to implement them. As it descended towards the lights below, something inside began to churn in preparation. The energies of death were strong here, and somewhere primal, it recognized the tastes.

The shooting star plunged through the atmosphere, and with a great crash made footfall in an old basketball court. Hitting at an angle, the asphalt was shattered and broken, and a gaping furrow was split into the ground, past the basketball court's fence and into the nearby street, stopping near a parked car and tearing it nearly in half.

"Is everyone ok? Is anyone hurt?" The words weren't so surprising, but that they had come from a dog of all things was, so at first no one answered. Talking Dog frowned at that, and repeated the question more firmly.

"Yeah." "Fine." "What was that?" "My CAR!!"

Talking Dog sighed at that and yelled at the man as he approached the ruined wreck of a car, now in flames. "Hey! Stay back!"

Just as the word's left the dog's mouth, the fire caught the car's supply of gas, and the whole thing erupted in a fireball. The owner was thrown back by the blast onto his back, where he rolled to a stop at an old woman's feet (was that old woman everywhere?). The growing group of people, began to mutter and panic. Talking Dog ran up to the body, and put a paw over the man's open mouth, checking for breath.

"He's still breathing!" TD looked through the crowd. "Doesn't anyone have a cell phone? We need a doctor here!"

TD almost snarled at the people as they began to mutter and talk. As always, they were unprepared. Finally, a man in a business suit ran up, a cellular phone in hand. "I've got one! What do I do?!"

"CALL 911, what do you think?!"

"Oh. ...Ok." The man shied back from the dog. Obviously, he wasn't used to being yelled at by one. He started punching buttons when the ground began to shake and crack. Feeling a rush of goose bumps down his spine, Talking Dog slowly looked behind him, at the broken remains of the car. Something long and black was rising straight up into the air from the hole in the ground. Higher and higher it rose, as the assembled people of Townsville, as one, grew deathly silent.

Then, with a shower of debris, the ground exploded and something huge began to rise out of the destroyed street. It was uneven and pitted by small craters, all of which started to slowly leak some sort of white liquid. From the uneven mass, high in the air, the black pillar broke apart into seven branches, so massive that they seemed to stretch to the horizon.

It smelt like... blood.

"Get out of here! Run! Run you idiots!" TD's words stirred the people, and like an expanding group mind, they panicked and started to run. As the black mass rose higher into the air, finally breaking free of the ground entirely, TD clamped his jaws down on the injured man's shirt and tried to drag him out of the way. Bits of rock and street fell down all around them, but it was when TD saw a droplet of white hit a fallen cell phone... and melt it into a puddle of amorphous goo... that he really started to panic. Fear overcame pride, and he yelled, desperately, for the only help he'd ever come to depend on.

"POWERPUFF GIRLS!! HELP!!"

Avoiding being hit by one of the droplets of acid, TD struggled harder, pulling the heavy man out of what was left of the street. He'd always wanted to be a bigger dog, and never more so than at that moment. Size-wise, Lassie he was not. To his side, a drop of acid hit the street, smelling sharply of copper and blood and... something else he couldn't quite place. He wasn't going to make it, he realized, looking to the far off shelter of a store overhang and the open door beneath it.

Up above, the growing uneven shape rose higher into the air, long spindle legs supporting it as it cast a long shadow down over Townsville, straddling the entire city like a god. It had no eyes, no mouth, only a pitted mess of a body and seven legs, each nearly two miles long. Talking Dog had, over his short life, seen many great and terrible things come to Townsville. The last creature, a sphere type thing, had looked odd, but not particularly terrifying. It hadn't even done much damage. But this... something about this monster, the inhumanity of it perhaps, the white droplets that rained down on the city, burning and destroying, almost as an after thought...

He opened his mouth to scream when a streak of bright blue caught him and pulled him out of danger. He blinked, and the moment was over. He and the injured man were safely under the overhang, at least for the moment. He saw Bubbles's face and relaxed.

"You're safe now, doggie!" She gave him a big hug, causing his eyes to expand as his body was crushed.

"Er... Bubbles... nice... see you... too..."

"Maybe you should put him down?" Buttercup was scowling. Like always.

"What's going on?" Blossom asked. "Where did that thing come from?"

Talking Dog took a deep breath when Bubbles let go of him and put him down on the floor. "Something crashed... a meteorite I think..."

"That stupid shooting star!" Buttercup balled her fists.

"It's dripping some sort of acid everywhere!" He added.

"Well, that's not too bad." Blossom smiled, confidently. "Acid can't hurt us!"

Buttercup didn't need any other news. She just took off, leading the charge. Bubbles and Blossom saw her go, frowned, and followed closely. They took off out the store and into the air, weaving through the ever-increasing rain of white droplets. Getting closer and closer, the inevitable happened, and Buttercup felt the mild sting of one of the drops hitting her right arm.

A second later, she screamed.

"It burns! It burns! It burns!!" She howled, falling backwards, patting her arm and shaking it wildly.

"But that's impossible!" Blossom remembered well when a disgruntled policeman had dipped them in a vat of acid. Their clothes had been shredded, and they had been a mild stinging sensation, but no real harm done. Then a droplet hit her hand, and she felt searing pain flare across every nerve in her arm, flooding her brain. Gritting her teeth, and patting her hand desperately, she knew they'd gotten themselves into trouble making that assumption.

"Don't get hit! Evasive maneuvers!"

"Oh GOD, it hurts! My arm! My ARM!!"

Buttercup was in her own private world of pain. Amazingly, it was Bubbles that caught her and weaved through the thick white rain. Getting out of the shower directly beneath the body of the thing, Bubbles was still holding Buttercup while the green Powerpuff nursed her wounded arm. Blossom's hand still hurt like it never had before, but she could feel it rapidly healing.

"The city..." Bubbles said, quietly. It was like her nightmares. A black spider, like a daddy-longlegs that was titanic beyond belief, standing over the city, raining death and destruction. She felt a rising panic. If this nightmare was real, then perhaps others she had seen, others far worse... creeping through every vein, wanting to be one, invading her mind...

"We have to do something!" She squeaked. "Blast it with our eye beams or something!"

"There could be thousands of gallons of that acid stuff in it!" Blossom actually sounded afraid. "Even in the legs! If we cut it open, it'll spill all over Townsville!"

She didn't say it, but she had no idea what to do.