"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
At 4:15, Johns came out on the front steps of the hospital. He had alerted Whitfield that he'd make a short statement, and everyone waited anxiously. During the last forty-five minutes or so, TV viewers had been subjected to endless speculation over what had occurred. They had also been treated to the amazing sight of Bubbles, standing outside of the hospital's east side rear wing, being struck by a beam from inside and shrinking back to her normal size. She had turned, smiled and waved; then had flown in through the broken window.
The restless crowd, which had swelled again with the danger over, strained to see the doctor as he approached the podium. CNC had worked to get their own equipment set up, having gotten a backup truck through the traffic, and now Stanley was broadcasting only on KZIX, which suited him just fine.
Johns spoke off the cuff; no prepared statement. "Ladies and gentlemen, I have a brief announcement. Further details will be provided at a full press conference later today, we estimate sometime between 8 and 9 P.M. I will not take any questions at this time." He cleared his throat. "As you know, we've witnessed a miracle today. Bubbles is having some tests done to be on the safe side, but she appears to be perfectly normal. What you all saw was the result of a device we intended to use in the treatment of the girls' condition, but as you witnessed, it had a different and happy application. Blossom will be out of surgery shortly and she is expected to make a full recovery. Buttercup was not severely injured in the fight. She is resting comfortably and we expect her to be just fine, too."
They expected both girls to be awake by the time the press conference began, and the doctors would be able to explain fully what had happened. There was no need to tell the crowd that Blossom and Buttercup were going to 'die' for several minutes.
"I have one more bit of good news. The mayor did not have a heart attack."
There were actually a few scattered boos amongst the cheering, but they weren't picked up on the audio.
"It seems that in all the excitement of watching the fight, he ate a whole jar of spicy pickles. He's been treated for indigestion and will be sent home soon."
The laughter was louder than the cheers.
It was going to be a long wait until the conference. Gradually, the crowd would begin to disperse and head home. Emergency crews and police went about the task of putting the damaged downtown area back together. Volunteers collected all of the items left at Bubbles' 'shrine' and began sorting out what could be given to children and what had to be thrown out. Hospital security combed the place in search of the intruder who'd turned it upside down, but there was no sign of him.
With the excitement over, Whitfield began to think more about LeBeau himself. Where the hell had he gone? Whitfield had called LeBeau's cell phone three times and for some odd reason gotten LeBeau's recorded voice. He'd called the station several times but he wasn't there. The station tried his home phone and got his answering machine. It was just as well. Everyone was excoriating the kid anyway, especially the idiots at CNC, the hypocrites. Earlier, he'd been their hero for breaking the story but now that it wasn't true, they were falling all over each other to crucify the kid. They didn't seem to get it that most of the egg they wore on their faces they'd broken themselves. He figured that LeBeau probably expected to be fired and was drowning his sorrows in some bar, watching the finish to what he'd started. Ironically, LeBeau in fact knew nothing. He had never looked back to witness Bubbles' amazing appearance and rescue of her sister.
He lived in an apartment complex on the eastern edge of Townsville. He'd walked for forty-five minutes until he came to the major road leading out of town, that just happened to pass two blocks from where he lived. It would take at least another hour. He was suddenly exhausted. He looked around and saw the traffic was backed up heading into downtown. Why would people still want to go there? One solitary car came the other way and for the heck of it, he put out his thumb. It stopped. It was rather beat up.
"Where to, buddy?"
He noticed the back seat half-full of empty beer cans and an open beer between the driver's legs. He was too tired to care. He hopped in. "I live about four miles out, just off this road, if you're going that far."
"Hell, yeah. It's right on the way to Citysville. That's where I'm from. Great place, not like this stinkin' town. Want a brew?" The driver, a rough-looking guy in a dirty T-shirt, nodded toward the seat and the one can remaining in the plastic rings.
"No, thanks. Citysville, huh? Have to check it out. I'm thinking of leaving Townsville myself."
"Smart move."
By the time he was dropped off, he'd heard from the man just why he disliked Townsville and the three girls who'd once caused his hometown such a big headache. LeBeau was shocked. The man wouldn't be saying those things if he knew what had taken place.
"Are you aware of what's happened to those kids today?" Lebeau asked as the man stopped where he'd told him to drop him off.
"Sure I'm aware. Nothin' new. Everybody makes a big deal out of 'em, but they always come out smellin' like a rose. All that doom an' gloom, and then out pops that blonde one, just like I expected."
"What?"
"You don't know? Where've YOU been? She busts out the window, like none of 'em know how to use that thing called a door, then POOF! She turns into a giant or somethin' and finishes off that monkey, like always. You didn't see it?"
LeBeau bolted from the car.
"You're welcome! Idiot!" the guy shouted after him, then drove off. "The wife can find her own way home from her sister's. I ain't never comin' back here!"
LeBeau ran the two blocks to his apartment and put Channel Five on. There was Stanley, saying that the hospital spokesman would be out any minute. He watched Johns' statement, then flipped over to CNC and saw what he'd missed. He'd just walked out on the biggest story he'd ever be likely to see in his career. "Career? WHAT career? Serves you right, too!"
He saw the light on his answering machine flashing and remembered he'd turned his phone off. Stanley had probably been trying to reach him. His unanswered cell phone calls were transferred to this one if not answered by the fifth ring. He wound it back to the start and pushed the button. Sure enough, there were three calls from Whitfield, each sounding angrier than the first. There were another two from the station manager. Well, that sealed it. If what he'd done wasn't enough to get him fired, dereliction of duty certainly would. He'd worry about it tomorrow.
There was another call. "This is Ken Miller from 'The Cutting Edge' (3). I like your style, kid. The big boys are chewing you up pretty good, but I'd be happy to talk to you anytime. Citysville could use someone with your talent." There was a phone number to call.
He'd never heard of Miller or his show. He didn't know what was meant by 'chewing you up' but he found out. For the rest of the afternoon into the evening, he stayed glued to his set while he began to pack up his belongings, as anxious as anyone to find out about the girls, and as glad as anyone that they would be all right. That was all he cared about. He didn't care what they were all saying about him because they were right.