"Code Blue"
By I am a good fighter
Powerpuff Girls created by Craig McCracken and all characters associated with the show are owned by Cartoon Network
Jennifer Keane was at her wits' end. She hadn't moved three car lengths in ten minutes. The news reports on the radio only made her more frantic. Buttercup was out there all by herself, taking on that despicable creature. There was no report on Blossom's condition, but she knew what it would be if Buttercup failed. She leaned on the horn again. The guy in front of her looked in his rearview mirror and indicated that she was Number One. That was it. She'd had enough of this; she was going to do what many others had done, walk. Even though she was three miles from downtown and it would take almost an hour, she didn't care. She grabbed her purse off the seat, got out and slammed the door, locking it. She gave the obnoxious motorist a scowl as she stormed past his car.
She no longer cared what was causing the backup, but she found out anyway. At the end of a two-minute walk, she came in sight of the intersection of the street she was on and the one that led, two blocks south, to the main thoroughfare out of Pokey Oaks. It was gridlock there, and probably everywhere. She only hoped her car wasn't on cement blocks when she got back to it. That's when she saw the blue-clad arm and heard the whistle. A traffic cop, but a police officer just the same. She ran the remaining thousand feet.
"Officer! Officer! Help!" She could hear the voices coming over the radio in his squad car, which sat on the sidewalk.
The burly cop turned, annoyed and red in the face. He was powerless to do anything, nobody was going anywhere; and he was there basically to prevent fistfights."Yeah, whaddaya want, lady?" He froze. "Hey, aren't you that kindergarten teacher? I seen you on TV!"
"Yes! Yes, I'm Jennifer Keane, the girls' teacher! I need to get to the hospit-"
He waved for her to follow, and ran to his car. He leaned in and pulled out the mouthpiece. "Car 352 to central."
"Yeah, Pete?"
"Hey, Bob, that bird take off yet?"
"Not yet."
"Great. Patch me through, I got the kids' teacher here and she needs a lift."
"You got it. Out."
She looked to the sky. "Oh, thank you, THANK YOU!"
Twelve minutes later, she was exchanging a quick embrace with Sara Bellum on the roof of Townsville General. Then Bellum was off to Townsville Hall and she was being led by a security guard to Bubbles' room.
Whitfield didn't like anything to do with this situation but he no longer had any choice. Mojo was getting the attention he wanted and the veteran newsman would have liked nothing better than to pull the plug. But he feared the reaction might be the same as what Mojo had threatened if Buttercup tried to take the fight elsewhere: A direct attack on the hospital itself. He hated seeing the little girl battling valiantly, struggling to delay the inevitable, for this couldn't end any other way. But what he despised most of all, at this moment, was his profession. Things had changed since he was a green rookie thirty years ago. A new breed had taken over. Don't just report the story, be a part of it. Make something happen because the 24/7 TV news industry needed product to fill up all those hours. It had gone from being one of relaying vital information to the local community to just another branch of the entertainment business. For the companies, the bigger the story, the bigger the profits. For the individuals, more airtime, more face time, more recognition…and all the trappings that went with success. It resulted in people like LeBeau, in the business for the wrong reason. It was a shame, too, because the kid obviously had talent. It wasn't LeBeau's fault the Powerpuff Girls were ill; that Bubbles was dying and that Blossom was fighting for her life on the operating table. But that Whitfield was witnessing what could be Buttercup's final moments, taking on her evil opponent when she belonged with her family, and whatever else might result from Mojo's actions today; it all could be laid squarely on that young man's shoulders, and on the industry that produced people like him.
But the cat was out of the bag, now. There was no going back and what was happening now, there was no good reason to not show it. Channel Five and the other TV stations in town had gotten film crews in the air, and aerial shots of the disaster on the ground were being relayed to the stations. There was no further need for the ground crews of those who'd had their equipment destroyed by Mojo's blasts, so they got away from there as fast as they could, with a growing number of panicked citizens joining them, attempting to flee the rising flood waters. Whitfield's and Santiago's crews were the only ones getting ground-level shots, and Whitfield's were still feeding to CNC, which ran it along with its own aerial coverage.
Stanley watched them as they scrambled to film what they could. All around him were screaming, running people, smoking hulks of cars and trucks, flashing lights, sirens, chaos. He'd been trained to stay cool no matter what was happening and was glad for the training, because he'd seen some very bad things before. Yet the girls had always found a way out of trouble. This time, though….as the wave swept Buttercup along until she could no longer be seen, out of the corner of his eye he saw the look of fear on Maria's face, a face that belonged to someone else well-trained. He wondered where LeBeau had gone after leaving the hospital, and if he had any clue yet about what he'd caused. He pulled out his phone and dialed the number to LeBeau's phone. It was never answered.
"Now, where the hell is he? He'd better not have gone back in there!"
Of course, Whitfield didn't know that LeBeau had gone back inside and would have been even more furious if he did. But LeBeau was about to get a clue. Finding it uncomfortable to stand there alone in Bubbles' room, he started to walk down the hallway, looking for an empty room to duck into so he could observe from there. She couldn't have much longer, and SOMEONE from the staff would be there with her. He'd go back then and probably not be noticed.
His cell phone rang. It had to be Whitfield. He pulled it out of his pocket, silenced it and put it back. He felt a slight shudder and heard a muffled explosion a second later. The crying and yelling of the other kids in the wing increased dramatically. A boy of about six, in a hospital gown, ran in terror out of a room and down the hall away from him. Lights above doors flashed off and on and he saw two female nurses in blue coming toward him from their station. They stopped the boy and one picked him up. They hurried in LeBeau's direction. Another nurse ran from a room and he saw that light go out as the woman entered a room across the hall. Behind him, he heard more sounds and turned and saw more chaos. He had to confirm what he'd heard, that Mojo was the cause of all of this.
He hurried up to the nurses carrying the boy, deciding to stick with the 'Doctor Ferrara' he'd given Bellum. They would probably not know the difference, since they and the surgical nurse were from two different departments.
"I'm Doctor Ferrara. What's going on?"
The one holding the boy, a tall, willowy blonde of around forty with a plastic tag, that read 'S. Fuller', clipped to her smock instead of having her name stitched on, said, "You don't know?"
"No. I'm with Dr. Vora's team. She's in with Blossom right now and I came up to check on Bubbles."
"Oh!" cried the other one, a much shorter and younger brunette whose tag read 'D. Sanchez'. "How is she?"
The boy, hearing the 'doctor' say those two names, was impressed into shutting up and his mouth fell open. Fuller said, "I'll be right back." and took the boy to his room.
LeBeau answered Sanchez' question. "Blossom? Too soon to know. Bubbles…" He shook his head. "What's happening and what can I do to help?"
Fuller reappeared. LeBeau noticed that she had a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Sanchez said, "You heard about that jackass from Channel Five who snuck in here today?"
"Yeah, that's the second time I've heard that. What'd I do?"
"No. What'd he do?"
"Told Mojo Jojo that the girls all have cancer. We're still not even sure what they've got, but Buttercup's out there right now trying to stop that…that THING, and if she can't, he'll march in here and…and…" Sanchez couldn't go on, putting her hands to her face and bursting into tears.
"But how is that MY fault? If it had been a monster, Buttercup would still be the only one who could fight it…what I said doesn't change the facts." He started to explain that to them, saying 'this reporter' instead of 'I'.
Fuller broke in. "Yeah, except that Mojo gave this 'Low Blow' full credit for his being here, now. I remember EXACTLY what that ape said!" Giving her best Mojo impersonation, she said, "Your pathetic protectors have headaches and will be unable to stop me! Oh, Bubbles has a really bad one, or so I am told by my favorite reporter in the whole universe, that what's his name running around inside the hospital!"
She added , "Then he said something about giving that 'Low Blow' creep Stanley Whitfield's job as thanks for tipping him off! I hate freakin' reporters!"
"Me? I did this? Buttercup's out there fighting him because of me, and he's coming after Blossom and Bubbles, too?"
They saw his surprised look but didn't know the real reason for it. He whispered, "I had no idea…I never really thought about it…" He was suddenly appalled. Stanley was right. It HAD all been a game to him. Santiago was right, too. The panic outside, and in here, was his doing.
"These poor kids!" He asked, "Can I help you get things calmed down here?"
"Thanks, Doctor, but maybe you should be with Bubbles." Fuller said. "Her last BP was awful."
"They must get her readings at their station. That means they'll send someone…"
When the end came. He didn't want to be there anymore when it happened. He should just leave, right now. But that little girl had no one, because of him. He would play doctor for a few more minutes.