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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.