Author
Author's Note: Contact me at theak472@aol.com
- you might even decide what happens! Gimme opinions. I like 'em. Thanks for all
the reviews, and to Kim-Mei for proofreading. It's going to be confusing from
here onwards, but that's how I like my fics. Hang in there, we're getting closer
to the closing curtains...
Maybe I'm Twisted
by Rey
Chapter 9 - And Downhill
From There
"..she spreads her wings, she dreams of better things, she floats above
the town..." - Semisonic
Him, dark
cloak enfolding him, sat on an abandoned ledge on the cliffs some distance from
Townsville, waiting. Butch would appear any moment, he knew, on the fringes of
the city. With the body. The noxious stench of death reached him on the air, vapors
with a hint of blood producing a sardonic smile on the face of the demon.
Butch reeked
like century-old trash bags and, on some subconscious level, he knew it. What
his mind was centered on, however, was what he carried. He hobbled along the
abandoned streets towards the border of Townsville, towards the Northern side.
The creature who had freed him was waiting. He was drawn there, like bees to a
flower, flies to a corpse. It was waiting for him.
Once along
the edges of Townsville he half-heartedly took flight, the body dragged limply
along in his hands, leaving a steady trail of blood. He reached that distant
ledge and hauled himself over, dumping the cadaver unceremoniously in front of
the goateed demon. Him, still cloaked, reached out and pressed a slender finger
to what appeared to be the corpse's neck. He started at what he felt, stepping
back abruptly.
"She's
not dead."
By now, that
voice was familiar to Butch, and he snarled around the bloodied foam dabbed on
his jaws, strings of sticky saliva dangling helplessly from teeth bared like
fangs. "She's not supposed to be. I want her alive. I will kill her later.
When I have Buttercup."
Him paused
to consider this new stage. Would it interfere with his plans? His strategy
would undertake some change but nothing serious would develop. Lifting his hands
slowly,
Him paused to turn a glare down to Butch, almost drill-sergeant style, daring
him to answer. "Do you hate Buttercup?"
"Hell
yeah," Butch growled, spitting ferociously to one side, the very picture of
the uncouth ruffian all parents have come to fear.
"SAY
IT!" The demon roared, a blend of flames and lightning gathering at his
fingertips to shoot into the starry sky dramatically. "Do you HATE
her?!"
"I HATE
BUTTERCUP!" An animalistic howl joined in unison alongside Him's voice, as
Butch raised his arms to the stars.
Buttercup
shook uncontrollably and squeaked, a strange feeling shooting through her gut.
No tears came to her eyes, but Blossom, comforted by the Professor, sobbed
unashamedly. The boys stood nearby impassively, though Brick's hands, curled
tightly into fists, seemed to shake. With fear or with rage, no one could tell.
The five, including the Professor, stood on the roof of the clock tower, waiting
for the police to emerge with a report.
Minutes
passed uneventfully, as they stood, listening to the sounds of the investigation
under way. Brick, however, was not particularly patient, and he hovered towards
the dark sky to think, joined by Buttercup moments later. She cleared her throat
to announce her presence, and he looked up quickly.
"Brick." Her own voice sounded unsure, insignificant, coming out as
almost a whisper. They both gazed up into the heavens... A romantic scene, but
neither really had their minds on romance. He looked towards her, a troubled
expression lining his features.
"Yeah,
Buttercup?" Brick slowly, carefully brought a hand up to touch her cheek
comfortingly. To let her know he felt the same way. To let her know she could
talk; she wouldn't have to be afraid.
"I..." His touch seemed to soothe her, and, slightly more
self-assured, she continued. "Maybe... maybe I shouldn't have brought you
back, after all. Maybe I shouldn't have wanted to know, so badly..."
"Know
what?" His hand fell back to his side, head tilting inquisitively. She took
a deep breath, and continued.
"Why
you were in my mind so much. Why you were in my dreams."
Brick
inhaled slowly, turning his eyes slowly back to the sky. "I see."
"But...
but lately I don't know," she confessed, looking down. "The dreams...
They feel so real. Like something bad's gonna happen, and I'll never feel ..
feel happy again. Feels like
death. And maybe there's no way out of it. The.. the black clouds. Even if we
defeat them. I know it's silly..."
"Sometimes there's truth in dreams," Brick replied quietly.
"Brick,
I know I'm hasty, I know I'm stupid. If... if I break out again, you will
forgive me, won't you?"
"Bee-Cee,"
he said, turning to take her hands up tightly. "It's not up to me to decide
the future. I can't control what happens, but I can control what I do. And you
can, too. I used to think Fate was all a big joke, but now I'm starting to
believe in the same basic concept. It's not some person coming up with what's going to
happen to us. We write our own fates with the things that we do, the decisions
we make. I feel I'm going to make a few wrong decisions before all this is over.
Don't you?"
Buttercup
gave a weak smile, squeezing back at his hands, and nodding to his cryptic
reply, which somehow made sense. "I... I understand, Brick."
"Good," Brick gazed back at her. "Now... now would you mind all
that much letting me have some quiet time? I think perhaps you might need some,
as well." He let her hands go, his gaze once more returning to the skies.
Buttercup gave a mumbled reply and left Brick to his thoughts, returning to the
roof of the clock tower.
"Thanks
for letting us crash at your place, Professor," Boomer grunted, squeezed in
the back seat of the Utoniums' car along with Buttercup, who leaned against the
window opposite from Brick, and Blossom, whose head lolled on Buttercup's
shoulder as she slept. The Professor seemed disturbed, and who could blame him?
but he gave a polite reply.
"You're
welcome, Boomer. You'll have to sleep in the living room, though, along with
your brother. Is that alright?"
Brick
frowned slightly out the window. "Sure, sounds fine." They have to
analyze the results. As if we don't already know what happened. Tomorrow, they
said.
"Goodnight, girls," The Professor whispered into the room. "It's
been a terrible day for you two, so get some good sleep." He popped his
head around the corner of the hallway, turning his gaze down the staircase.
"And goodnight to you boys, too. I'll wake you up in the morning for
breakfast."
"Goodnight, sir," The two brothers managed to mumble, before they
promptly fell asleep, each lying on couches with spare blankets wrapped around
them tightly.
Her sighed,
watching the boys fall asleep, while keeping one eye on her brother. You
couldn't trust that bugger, after all. She knew it was a bit late to be working
her touch into the game, but oh, that car in the garage still wasn't fixed, and
she was so busy... With a sigh, she lifted her hands, focusing intently on one
of the two boys. She knew the vital part that one was to play, but the
outcome... Well, they both had to fight for that.
Boomer...
"Noo,"
grunted the blonde, reaching around for his pillow to cover his face, before
coming to the realization that it was not nearby. He sat up, rubbing a fist into
his left eye sleepily. "Whazzat?"
Boomer.
Pay attention.
The
mannerisms of the voice reminded him greatly of a drill sergeant, and to some
degree he paid his respect accordingly, by sitting up. "Yeah, whaa?"
He questioned, lifting his head and staring about wide-eyed at this blank new
environment. It almost reminded him of a scene from the Matrix, just the
ever-pressing whiteness all around.
Hello,
dear. It has come to my attention that one of your brothers and a friend has
gone missing. Am I correct in saying this?
"Yeeah...
And?" Straight to the point as ever, Boomer scratched the side of his head,
climbing to his feet. He reached a hand out, almost expecting to find a white
wall of some sort; but no, it was simply an extreme expanse of ashen ground.
I can't
reveal much now - I don't know much either, but from what suspect, I can tell
you that when it comes to the crunch and there are two, the first savior is
beside you, and the second lies within the lair of the voice. It's not what it
seems like. Got it?
"What?"
Boomer lifted an eyebrow inquisitively, shaking his head, the voice's cryptic
statement baffling him. "I don't get it."
There was a
short, sharp pause, as if the voice was contemplating. No, it said
finally, There's no time. Just remember to the best of your ability. Two
forever one, bring what may come. Lla sreuqnoc evol.
With
these three incomprehensible words echoing in his mind, Boomer was released back
to his sleep, and, though it was dreamless, it remained troubled, and he tossed
and turned on the couch, his subconscious almost fighting to remember what
perplexing clues the voice had dropped.
Buttercup
stirred in bed, at first expecting to wake up to Bubbles' face, but remembering.
She then turned to one side to speak to Blossom, but, noticing she was alone in
the bed, and in the room, she sat up, grumbling, and crawled out of bed to wash
up.
"Blossom!" The Professor called, from downstairs.
"Breakfast!"
No pink
streak down the stairs, no reply. Silence in the house, except for water running
upstairs. "Blossom, is that you?" He called.
Muffled
through toothpaste foam, Buttercup yelled back as she brushed, "It's not
Blossom!"
"That's
strange," The Professor frowned. "Where could she be?"
Blossom
laughed to herself quietly, spinning on her tiptoes aimlessly as she wandered
through Townsville. A dazed smile was plasted on her face as she spun, giggling
gaily and generally not paying attention to the citizens of Townsville that
happened to pass by, perhaps tipping their hats or waving.
I cried,
I cried, Bubbles is gone... Buttercup shouldn't have brought them back, but why,
why, why wasn't I nicer to her before she was gone? And all the world is fine,
and I'll walk away, and they won't even notice me gone, because Bubbles is gone
already, and maybe they'll think I went with Bubbles to a happy place...
Through
her deranged thoughts and half-tears, half-grins, she noticed she had left the
better part of the bustling metropolis they called Townsville and entered a
rather seedy area, dark doorways that promised "adult fun" and
"live shows" and produced neither; stores that sold things that were
strange to a five-year-old mind twisted from self-inflicted misery. She didn't
care, though, she walked on, and everything was fine.
One might
consider the greatest danger to a five-year-old superhero in this part of town
would perhaps be a kidnapper, or a rapist. Yet it was neither that appeared to
Blossom; instead, a sinister shadow cast over her, announcing the arrival of the
malevolent presence. Just as she looked up, a dark green streak filled her line
of vision, and the last words she heard before blessed oblivion overwhelmed her
were, "Heeeeeeeeeeere's Johnny!"
Rey: Thanks for reading,
comments welcome, address listed above. Exams are still around, but Kim-Mei, my
dear proofreader (and she knows the ENDING to MIT one...) urges me to write.
So I shall. Thank her if you want. Lastly - once MIT is finished - I will, if it
is asked for, write a sequel. Thank you, thank you very much.