"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
Buttercup lay on her back on top of a concrete ledge, gasping for air, listening to the slowing rush of water passing by below her. The swirling tidal wave had carried her over a mile from where she'd gone into the sewer, and had smashed her against the cement walls, ceiling and floor of the massive rectangular-shaped underground system. All of the girls had been forced to hold their breath under water in the past and could do it for far longer than the average person. She'd always wondered if needing less oxygen was another of their powers.
But she wasn't thinking of that just now, nor of why the water had suddenly stopped, saving her from almost certain drowning, for she'd reached the limits of her endurance. What she didn't know was that someone at the Townsville Waterworks was on the ball. Due to the oft-damaged infrastructure of the city, nearly the entire water system had been fitted during replacements with electronically-controlled gates placed every so far in the piping, and at every major valve, such as those that fed large institutions. This allowed for minimal flooding. The fail-safe system also included every fire hydrant in the city, so within minutes of Mojo's attacks on them, the gates closed and the street emptied of water within five minutes. Mojo, seeing the gushing from the hydrants slow to a trickle and the broken water main stop sending out its geyser, immediately figured it out.
"Accursed city planners are not as imbecilic as they look! Buttercup has probably survived and is this very second planning a counter-attack! I must not allow that! But how…?"
What could he do to delay her and prolong the battle, which was what he really wanted. Tire her out. The other two were going nowhere so he could drag this out for as long as it took. A smile curled his simian lips as a thought occurred to him. He drawled into his microphone, "Oh, Charles! Oh Stanley!"
The voice stunned everyone, both in the crowd and watching the television, who had been waiting anxiously for some sign of their hero's survival. Stanley's head whipped upward; at the same moment, millions of viewers didn't see Wagner's eyes going wide.
Mojo spoke in that somewhat condescending, taunting voice. "While we are waiting to see if Buttercup has had enough to drink, perhaps your viewers would enjoy some refreshment themselves, or a bit of 'relief' from all the excitement. You may take a three-minute commercial break."
Watching commercials was the last thing he expected anyone to do and he rubbed his hands together in anticipation, his evil, green face grinning with glee.
Her hair was plastered to the sides of her head, her soaked tights clung to her legs and water squished in her shoes, but her training let her put all that aside. She stood in the middle of the empty sewer, trying to get her bearings. A small stream of sewage flowed in the V-shaped trough of the floor. Trickles of water ran out of the large outlet pipes, built into the walls, that fed the sewer. "Things are back to normal…but where the heck am I? Let's see…" This branch ran straight in both directions as far as she could see, but up ahead to her left, she saw an intersection that also ran both ways, forming a large X. She noticed above her that every hundred feet or so, rays of light came in at an angle from the street drains. "Must be about three…I need to get back there before he gets inside!" She gave her hearing a boost and heard honking horns but no Mojo, no sirens. She had no idea what part of the city she was in. It would be simple to just push a manhole cover out, fly up and see where she was, but just because she couldn't HEAR Mojo didn't mean he wasn't hovering out there, waiting to pick her off. She needed to be careful. "What would Blossom do?" She flew down to the intersection, looked both ways, and took a right. Then she stopped, and smiled. "Hey, wait a minute! Those pipes go up into buildings! I can just fly up one and bust out and Mojo'll never see me! And if somebody flushes the toilet…oh, well, I'm used to takin' peoples crap."
She flew up the nearest pipe at the same moment Mojo began to give his little announcement.
Whitfield scratched his head. "Buttercup is still down there so why doesn't he go after her by flushing her out with smoke bombs or something? Why a commercial break now? FLUSH?!! Oh, no!"
A hundred thousand-plus Townsvillians had similar thoughts, but unfortunately, not until after they'd hit the handle. Buttercup, already up the pipe that served a high-rise apartment building with four hundred units, heard Mojo as his voice was carried through the underground tunnel, but she was too preoccupied to catch on. The sudden rumbling told her she was in trouble and she turned to fly back. Too late. The torrent of water caught her from behind and blew her out of the pipe at the bottom and into the opposite wall. It stunned her and she fell into the river of foulness that had already formed, as every outlet pipe along the system's length filled the tunnel.
As she shut her eyes tight and held her breath, fighting to escape the filthy current, she knew what had happened. "That dirty! He did this on purpose! I'm gonna get him back for this if it's the last thing I ever do!"
Her rage blinded her to everything else and she swam down to the bottom, feeling her hands touch the concrete. She did a swimmer's turn and pushed off with her feet. She willed herself to open her eyes against the sewage so that she could see where she was going. She broke free, once more gasping, but she didn't care what she was drenched with. That septic-cleaning truck that had exploded its contents on her had been worse than this. Her plan had formed in her head. It meant possibly showing herself to Mojo, but it wouldn't matter. He would have to react to her, this time. She flew up to a manhole and pulled the cover straight down, then punched the opening until it was twice its original size. She looked out quick and saw a massive traffic jam, but the landmarks in the area told her she was a good mile away from the hospital and on the far side of downtown. She could weave in and out amongst the buildings until she got close enough to attack. She zipped along the tunnel, pulling out manhole covers until she had a stack of about thirty, all that she felt she could comfortably maneuver with and still do what she wanted.
Her head began to pound and it hurt. She guessed it to be from stress. She was also starting to feel a little queasy. "Must be the smell. I just wish my head didn't hurt so much, but it's nothing compared to the headache that creep is gonna have!"
Her pile of heavy metal 'frisbees' all collected, she retraced her route back to the opening she'd made and flew out, to the cheers of stuck motorists. With her free hand, she waved them silent.
"Shhhh, everybody! Quiet!" Then she began her serpentine flight toward her target.
Jennifer Keane turned the corner at the nurse's station with the security guard at her right shoulder and saw three figures, one in green and two in blue, standing a short distance down the corridor. The guard told her Bubbles' room number, and that it was halfway down on the right, then gave her the go-ahead and turned, going back in the direction they had come from. As she passed the three, a nurse popped out of a room to her right and into one across the hall, and she heard a soothing voice talking to a whimpering child. She heard small cries, loud ones, and muttered oaths from a parent or two about that 'darn idiot reporter', and it got her own anger roiling again. What he had done to these poor children, in addition to everything else.
She cautiously stepped into the room, not wanting to startle anyone who might be in there, but all she saw was her student lying silently on the bed. She approached and stood next to the bed, gazing down at the sleeping, angelic face. Aside from the golden hair that was usually in pigtails but was now fanned out on the pillow, she looked the same as always. Keane saw the sheet covering Bubbles rise slightly and sink again after she'd mentally counted to seven. Shocked, her eyes went to the monitor, which beeped softly and confirmed what she had just done herself. Only nine breaths a minute. Only 19 heartbeats.
"But she looks so peaceful! Why isn't she laboring?"
She had witnessed the deaths of loved ones before. She knew she should be thankful it was not otherwise. But she couldn't be thankful. It all just seemed so unreal. Images flashed through her mind of the sweetly innocent child whose name fit her personality so perfectly. Always smiling, giggling, laughing. Always so open and giving of herself; a friend to everyone. In spite of her amazing abilities and the responsibility that came with them, so comfortable with who she was. She was a joy to teach and have in her classroom, even if she could be a bit clumsy at times. Keane smiled at the picture in her head of Bubbles with paste all over both hands, her face, her dress, in her hair, and the little pieces of construction paper that had somehow gotten stuck to it; all the while totally and happily oblivious to the mess she'd made of herself. It was unbelievable to her that all of that could be taken so swiftly. Just yesterday, everyone had thought it was just the flu, until her collapse on the playground…
Keane blinked her eyes against the horrid memory. She gently took Bubbles' left hand in hers. The coldness of it shocked her but she managed to not drop it.
"Bubbles, dear, it's me, Ms. Keane."
She didn't expect a response and didn't get one. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to reassure the child that her sisters and the professor would be back any minute but none of that was true. She just wanted to comfort the child in some way, but from what Sara had told her, Bubbles probably was past hearing now. But there was still the chance she could hear something. Words wouldn't mean much to her or give her comfort, but hearing one of her favorite school songs might.
"Would you like me to sing you a song? OK, then…"
Since Timothy Johns had given his short statement on the hospital's front steps and gone back to his office, he'd been on the phone nearly every second. He needed information and others wanted information from him. The press would have to wait, but the hospital's chief administrator was very unhappy about what he'd heard. He himself had not seen the mini-press conference that LeBeau had barged in on and was going by second-hand reports, and would remain glued to the set in his well-appointed office the remainder of that day, fielding calls and making them. Johns did his best to calm the man down, knowing that the hospital's switchboard operators were far more harried than his boss or he himself. He also tried to get him to see that the current problem was the fault of a very clever reporter, not a poorly-trained security staff. He knew those people had their hands full, too, and didn't need to be scolded right now. And mostly, he had to convince the chief that the hospital's medical staff was doing its best and that given the extreme suddenness and unusual nature of the girls' illness, keeping up to date on their conditions was going to be nearly impossible. The appearance of Mojo Jojo on the scene had only made things worse. But finally, he was able to turn his boss loose so he could free up his phone.
He had called surgery. A problem with Blossom, forcing a delay. He'd called 2nd floor pediatrics. Bubbles' condition was steadily deteriorating and Buttercup was with her. Then he'd seen for himself on his own office TV, Mojo's arrival and the green streak that soon appeared; even before his phone rang and he was informed of the situation. He'd immediately pushed the button on his desk phone that would transfer calls to his cell phone, pocketed the said portable, and headed for the surgery department. Professor Utonium needed to know what was happening and he knew that no one in the operating rooms would hear or feel a thing from the outside. Due to the numerous monster attacks, every O.R. had been built with shock-and-sound-absorbing materials.
While on the way, he called Stanley Whitfield and was briefly updated on the situation outside, including Mojo's threat against the two girls inside. He'd checked with surgery again. Nothing new, they were still waiting for the beta-blocker to work. Another call to pediatrics. Amid the panic in the ward, which he knew was occurring all over the building, came word of Bubbles' latest numbers. The Professor needed to be informed of this, also.
As he neared the surgery department, it struck him that the next few moments would be torture on the man once he learned what was happening. What would he himself do? Rush to be with his one child in her final moments? Or, knowing that nothing could be done, stay with the other, who was fighting for her life? Or, upon hearing what LeBeau had caused, head outside in a horrified, mind-numbed rage in a futile attempt to try to protect his one remaining child who could still fight?
He felt a brief sensation of shame at his relief that he didn't have to choose. But the circumstances, in spite of that relief, were still no better, for anyone. Could Buttercup really fight that God-forsaken creature all alone? God help them all if she couldn't.
The professor and Dr. Waldman were still in the observation room and during the delay had been discussing what to do next. Waldman had gotten a page from the lab. The biopsy results showed that the cells were not cancerous, and he had passed that information on to Vora. They now had no idea what they were dealing with, and only the surgery would give them a clue. They were totally unaware of what had transpired since they first entered the room. Not Matt LeBeau's actions or anything that followed.
"Five more minutes should be long enough, I think." Dr. Vora said, looking at the wall clock. She and the one nurse who had helped her to her feet had needed to scrub again and change into fresh clothes, but not before removing the shrinking/enlarging gun from the O.R. It was unknown if its fall to the floor had damaged it, and they didn't want to risk it being in there should the beta-blocker not work, and another electrical charge strike it. The gun lay near the Professor's feet, under the small countertop that held the monitor they were seated in front of.
The professor could see Blossom's gauze-wrapped head. "If you're certain it's not cancer, Doctor, what do you think it is?"
Waldman really had no clue but the earlier speculation that what was happening had an outside cause seemed to him the most likely.
"It is possible that they picked up a spore from some unknown organism on one of their trips into space. Or from one of the monsters…"
"Or Mojo could have given them a timed-release agent." the professor said, half to himself. "…but that doesn't sound like him."
"We aren't going to be able to know anything until we go in." Waldman said. Below them, Vora and her team were checking Blossom's vitals and making final preparations to get that sample.
Johns was just outside the door that read, "Observation area O.R. # 3. He walked through and began climbing the stairs to the soundproofed room. His phone rang. It was Whitfield. The hospital was getting another high-profile patient. The mayor, while watching the television coverage, had suffered an apparent heart attack and was being airlifted in at that moment.
"Oh, great!" he said to the empty stairway. He took the remaining steps two at a time and upon reaching the door to the room itself, pushed the button for the intercom, on the wall next to the door. "Adam, I need to talk to the professor."
A buzz, and he opened the door and rushed inside. There was no time for pleasantries.
"Professor," he began as the two men turned in their chairs. "Tim Johns, I'm the Director of Information for Townsville General. There is something I have to tell you."
The professor leaped to his feet. "Bubbles?" he cried in shock. Waldman clasped one arm, ready to get him under control.
"No. Mojo Jojo is outside. Professor, please, just listen and try to remain calm. Getting upset is going to help nobody."
The professor sat. "What's he done? Found out about Bubbles and decided to take advantage?"
"Yes, but there's more. I gave a statement to the media earlier, it was done live, informing them of Bubbles' condition. We felt the public deserved to know so they could gather quietly outside, and they would have done that. But some damn reporter I never heard of broke in and basically told the whole world about Blossom and Buttercup, too. Mojo saw it."
"Reporters." Waldman said in disgust.
"Yes. Mojo, by his own admission, decided to act instead of waiting for more news about Bubbles. Professor, Buttercup is out there right now, fighting him."
Mojo had kept an eye on the helicopters that hovered nearby. He knew they were the press, with the exception of the police chopper that had landed on the hospital roof a short time ago. He had used his telescope to see that the passenger inside was the Powerpuffs' schoolteacher and decided to let it land. It confirmed that they were in bad shape. Then he'd seen Bellum on the roof, trading places with Keane.
"Ah! She is on her way back to City Hall to manage the crisis started by me! I will let her, for when I have taken charge, I can use a good assistant."
Then a short time later he had seen the white helicopter with the six-sided blue cross and the caduceus on the side and ignored it, knowing it held a seriously ill patient but not knowing that it was the mayor.
He now scanned the area for a sign of the Powerpuff Girl and saw nothing. "I will give her two minutes to show. After that, I will challenge her to show herself, with the threat of destroying the hospital. If she does not, it would appear that she has not survived, which will be unfortunate. I desire to see her face at the moment of her demise, begging Mojo for mercy!"
During all this time, he'd been keeping up a steady dialogue that everyone on the ground could hear. Mostly insults mixed in with what they could expect from their new ruler after he had subjugated them. He eyed the clock on the console. Thirty seconds remained of the two minutes. Suddenly, warning beeps sounded and lights flashed as sensors picked up an incoming attack. She was back.
"Ah, good! It is much better this way!"
She had woven her way, keeping low until there were no buildings left to dodge. She found two that she could hover between, giving her an excellent angle to fire her discs from. In spite of the throbbing in her skull that the spinning made worse, she launched herself into her tornado move, at the same time, heating the bottom manhole cover in the stack with her lasers to near-melting point. She timed the release of each to direct them at the evil primate's craft. The first few she could see were going to be a bit off-target but that helped her to pinpoint the others. She got ten of them off in just over twenty seconds.
Mojo saw the red-hot discs coming. Unsure what they were, he set his laser for its highest power level and the computer automatically determined their trajectory, since they were far enough out to allow time for that. The beams exploded them into shrapnel, which caused significant damage to the office towers in the vicinity. Onlookers ducked for cover as they heard Mojo's loud laughter.
"Buttercup! This is no time for a game of frisbee! Your sisters are counting on you! Bwahahahaaa!!!"
Buttercup had used the ten merely as a diversionary tactic and their explosions gave her cover to move in. She parked herself just around the corner of the fortieth floor of a tower, then came out and rushed Mojo. This time she didn't bother to heat them up; that had only been to make them appear to be missiles as their heat was picked up on Mojo's sensors. Now, she fired them rapidly, zing-zing-zing, in a wider, trapping pattern. The exploding first wave confused the sensors and they never picked up the second wave until the discs broke through the debris.
"GAHHHH!!" He was in trouble and he knew it. The auto-search-and-fire program would stop the second he gave the command to his collision-avoidance system, but Buttercup had spread them wide enough to pin him in. He couldn't avoid all of them if he ran and if he didn't stop firing he couldn't move at all. He could fly forward but couldn't change course that quickly. He hit the switch that gave the firing control back to him. He'd have to do it manually. "Curses! I must try to hit the nearest ones!"
Hit the ones coming right at him and if he stayed where he was, the others would pass by harmlessly. The thrusters held him in place as he fired. He took out three discs but one got through and hit the plastishield and cracked it. Another hit the shield and took a chunk away along with it. Two more hit one of the legs almost simultaneously. The duranium buckled but held; but the concussion spun the craft out of its stationary attitude and into the path of another, which caught the spinning craft directly in one of the exhaust ports and it flew up inside before the heat burst it into shards of metal that tore the guts out of that engine. Mojo felt the shudder that told him he was doomed, even before his console lit up with flashing warning lights and alarms screamed. There were only two things to do, and he had to move fast. He unfastened the hand-held version of his improved laser cannon from the floor next to his seat and hit the eject button.
On the ground, the covers that missed their target and the shrapnel from the few that Mojo had hit caused more damage, but no one seemed to care. "It's gonna blow!" dozens of voices yelled at once, and many in the crowd broke and ran for cover. Whitfield and most of the rest could see that it was far enough away that the hospital was in no danger and stayed put; enthralled by what they were witnessing.
"She's doing it! She's beating him!"
He saw the choppers in the vicinity clearing out, though. He hoped the KZIX crew was getting all of this. That made him wonder again where the hell LeBeau was, but not for long. Mojo's robot seemed to hang in the air for a few seconds, spinning lazily with smoke and flame coming from it, then a brilliant flash caused everyone to cover their eyes against it. Pieces of the arms, legs and body went in all directions from the massive fireball, setting fire to several office and apartment buildings when they hit. The closest anything came to the hospital was a section of one arm that crashed through a storefront a block away. The bulk of the debris simply fell straight down, into the park across the wide avenue, where it erupted into another fireball. Fortunately, any of the crowd who had been in the park had already cleared out. Seeing they were saved, a thunderous cheer went up, and everyone looked up to see Mojo's parachute drifting slowly toward the ground. They expected Buttercup to snatch him from the sky any second and give him the pummeling he so richly deserved, but she was nowhere to be seen.
She had held a few lids back, moving in for the kill. It was one perfectly aimed throw that had finished off the robot, and upon releasing it, she set herself to keep one eye on the escaping Mojo and the other on the robot, in case she saw any serious danger from the falling debris. But suddenly her head seemed to explode in pain and a wave of nausea came over her. She hurried to the roof of the nearest building, where she fell to her knees and was promptly sick to her stomach.
"NO! Not now! I don't have time for this!"
A second wave hit her. When her small body stopped spasming, she fell to one side and over onto her back, sucking in mouthfuls of air. She could hear the crackling of flames from the fires and the sirens of the fire crews that were off to battle them. She heard the loud cheer go up. But she had to find out where Mojo was, knowing he'd probably escaped and, having had his robot destroyed, would waste no more time with her but head directly inside the hospital.
Groaning, she stood weakly and floated from the roof. There he was, nearly to the ground. Sucking it up despite the throbbing inside her skull, she went after him. Another huge cheer, even louder than before, greeted her as the crowd spotted their hero. Her hands went to the sides of her head. "Ahh! Please don't do that!"
"All right, Mojerk! Game's over!"
"Watch yerself, kid. He's prob'ly got somethin' hidin' under that cape!"