Like a good communist, I own nothing.


"Gauntlet: Crucible"
Part 5


April 30

I wasn't strong enough, and I don't mean when it comes to muscles. I still think I could have won, but I lost my head... lost control. Of everything. God, Blossom was right. Bubbles, too. And now it's too late for any of us...

Buttercup.

The rain beat down mercilessly on Townsville, drenching everything. It was terrible weather to do anything in. It reminded her of that rainy day when they had pretended to be the Powerpuff Girls, except this was far worse, or at least it seemed that way when one was in it. The wind howled like a wild animal, biting into the skin and eyes viciously. Buttercup would certainly never say so, but more than anything she wanted to be home, warm, comfortable.

Not this.

Wet and angry, she stood up and floated off the ground.

The black haired Rowdyruff was keeping quiet, preferring to look on and softly snicker at his brothers' mocking jokes. The blue one, Bubble's counterpart, held his hands up, his voice beyond sarcastic. "Golly, Brick, they're serious! Maybe we should all just sit down and talk this over like good little children."

The red one, the leader, squinted one eye and looked at Buttercup specifically. "NAH! Let's not and say we did! Boomer - have a little talk with pinkie here. Butch - take care of the little blonde, and do it quick. I'll take care of the tomboy. Like we planned. Don't let up for a second."

"Right," both boys said, as one, and charged at Buttercup's sisters. Brick himself just approached her, arms wide, as if expecting a hug. Or a kiss.

Buttercup growled.

He was mocking her.

She had charged at him before, and he'd easily avoided her - made her look like a fool in front of her sisters. Now he was disrespecting her in the middle of a fight. Buttercup spared a quick glance to see that Blossom and the blue Rowdyruff were trading blows experimentally, while the green one was advancing on an obviously wary Bubbles low to the ground.

"You want a fight?" Buttercup felt the song of battle fill her ears, drowning out the noise of the rain and battle. "YOU'VE GOT ONE!!"

She attacked like a Powerpuff possessed, not holding back even a fraction. She was punching with abandon, faster than ever before, but Brick was dealing with them easily, intercepting each one and tapping it aside with the back of his hands. Even her attempted uppercuts and midriff strikes were slapped away with contemptuous ease.

She felt them losing altitude as she attacked and he silently defended. They hit the ground and bounced off, when suddenly he reoriented himself, slipping low and grabbing her left leg. With a mighty heave, she lost control of flight and smashed into the wet concrete that clapped like thunder from the blow. Taking a few steps back from the point of impact, he looked on passively as she jumped back to her feet.

She pointed at him, growing angry at his silence. He'd been talking before, and now he wasn't saying a word. "You didn't think that'd put me down, did you?"

"Of course not." He paused. "You're the tough Powerpuff, right?"

"I AM!" She shot forward, like a bullet, into a flying kick. He shifted his stance so his side was to her, and his hand came down in an axechop as she passed by, missing him entirely. She hit the ground again with a wet splash and slid, again, a dozen feet.

Incensed, she roared and charged again, but stopped short at the last second and fired her eye beams, trying to catch him by surprise. His expression didn't change, but this time she forced him to move, hastily, as he saw the telltale signs of glowing in her eyes. He jumped to the side, avoiding the beams and responding with two of his own. They circled each other as top speed, firing and dodging and weaving and jumping and tumbling in air, crimson beams devastating the street around them, blowing up craters and street signs and cars in equal measure.

"Try this on for size!" She then rubbed her hands together, and tossed a ball of fire at him. He seemed genuinely amazed at it, and jumped high into the air as it slammed into the ground at his feet.

"Ha! Try another!" She launched after him, and started rubbing her hands together again, generating friction for the attack. No sooner did it form in her hands, however, did a lance of red energy hit it - one of Brick's eye beams - causing it to explode less than a foot from her body. Falling to the ground from the impact, she looked up, and with every fiber of her being MOVED.

Rolling to the side, a titanic pillar of red light slammed into where she'd just landed, leaving a perfectly circular hole in the street. High above, the red Rowdyruff looked on silently, a small smile on his face, eyes smoking from the discharge of the blast. It had been far more powerful than a normal one - Buttercup guessed that he'd somehow started charging its energy beforehand. But that didn't make much sense: charging up eyebeams nearly blinded her when she tried it. Standing, her fists balled, Buttercup blasted up until she was face to face with him.

"Well," she said, confidence keeping her tone steady. "At least you don't completely suck."

Brick said nothing, refusing the compliment.

"What' wrong, jerk? Nothing to say?"

"Nothing that needs saying, no," he said, and cocked his head. "Tell me. Are you ALL bluff and bluster?"

"Why you..." She shot her hands forward, and green energy erupted from her arms. "EAT IT!"

"Woah, that's new!" He dodged the blasts with increasing difficulty. Arms splayed wide, he suddenly stopped flying, and moved into reverse, stopping just shot of a building. Buttercup snarled and kept attacking, pressing the advantage. As Brick dodged, she started blasting chunks out of the building behind him.

"Do you like causing all this property damage?" He called out, as he moved.

Buttercup gasped, realizing what she was doing. It was only a moment's hesitation, but it was more than enough. Before she knew what was going on, Brick was in her face.

"Wish we had a woodshed..." He plowed an elbow into her face as he moved past her, kneed up into the base of her spine, and double fisted her in the chest. The attack was so smooth, she couldn't even contemplate a counter, and the green Powerpuff found herself almost grateful when she hit the ground with a thunderous crash. Getting to her feet, more slowly than before, she saw Brick land right next to her.

"That thing with your hands is very impressive," He stated, neutrally. "I hadn't thought of it, myself."

"Yeah?" Buttercup held out her hands, felt them charge with energy. Brick held his own arms out as well, and they both fired. Green and red blasts met, and in an appropriate puff of smoke, canceled out. He looked down at his hands in surprise.

"What a waste of energy..." Looking up, he settled one leg back. Again, he widened his arms, one forward, and one to the side. "How about doing this old school?"

Buttercup's rational mind screamed not to, but her pride, and her instincts, won out against reason. Like they always did. She had fought him hand to hand before, and gotten nowhere. He countered every attack, no matter how fast she threw them. It dawned on her that he was using a passive form of combat to counter her own self-taught ultra-aggressive tendencies. She had no strategy to get around this. She had no plan beyond attack.

Brick received her with silent determination.

Punch after punch was slapped aside. Kicks were avoided, or worse, turned into body blows and throws. As they danced and moved and warred, the ground beneath them became nothing more than rubble, as Buttercup hit the ground again and again and again. Brick barely attacked, waiting and defending until she exposed herself, at which point he would strike like a viper, in a hailstorm of snap kicks, body and throat strikes and elbows across her entire body. Amid the pouring rain, he was like water, like a liquid, moving and avoiding and hitting with impunity.

It only fed her rage. She remembered how Princess had defeated her with similar ease, only to be beaten by Blossom a minute later. Buttercup had trained herself hard after that, to be stronger than any attempted block, and faster than Princess could ever be. But her speed was nothing special to Brick, and his strength was at least a match for her own.

He had wanted to fight her, because he knew he would win. Buttercup didn't like to think about plans or tactics - she couldn't compete with Blossom in that department so she didn't try anymore - it was all starting to make sense. He, like Blossom, was a 'smart' fighter, only committing when he had a plan. The black-haired ruff, Buttercup's counterpart, had been sent after Bubbles because that was the most uneven match up, and it would be the quickest way to take Bubbles out. Buttercup herself knew that outright aggression was the best attack against her blonde sister.

Which left Brick to take her on, because his blue brother, if he was anything like Bubbles, would be at a disadvantage against Buttercup's aggressive style. Blossom would fight that boy, and she would do well, but she wouldn't press an attack without hesitation. She would plan and wait, and it would slow her down long enough for both her sisters to get beaten to a pulp. They had all been played perfectly, and the sudden attack and mocking had divided them and cut off any possibility of a counter plan on their part.

Against all resistance, Buttercup came to see that she had no chance. She began to see that he had drawn her in and used her own strength and determination against her, turned it into a pair of blinders that kept her from seeing and using what advantages she had over him. Stepping away from him, breathing heavily, she tried to think: tried to think of a plan, for once knowing she needed it, to save herself and her sisters. But... she was so tired. So exhausted. So weary.

"And now... the dance ends," Brick said, simply. There was no gloating to his voice, no ego. He was stating fact. Italy was a peninsula. The moon orbited the earth. She had lost.

It actually scared her.

"Do you feel it as I did?" He asked as he walked towards her, every step punctuated with a tiny splash of water. It dripped down his cap, soaked his shirt, and ran in rivulets over his face. "The chill touch of death?"

Rain.

Water.

She had a plan!

Bringing her hands together, she tried to remember what Blossom had done. It didn't work at first, as he steadily approached, but then she felt it. Lightning! Holding out her hand, beyond desperate, she directed it at the Rowdyruff leader.

"Let's see how you like THIS!" She pumped up the power, and it hit him full on. His eyes narrowed as the electricity pulsed through his body. His advance slowed, but it didn't stop. Steam began to rise from his form, and the ground crackled and fizzled as he walked.

"Too little. Too late." He was in front of her, and like lightning of his own, he struck. Buttercup couldn't tell whether it was a punch or a kick, only that it hurt, and then she was in the air. Forcing her eyes open, she saw Brick, waiting in midair, one hand drawn back. A rust red column of energy slammed into her, and she saw stars, as she slammed down into and through a parked truck, and down into and through the street, though who knew how many water mains and electrical wires, before mercifully hitting the hard tile floor of a subway terminal.

The stars remained, but she could still see through bleary eyes. Above, slowly descending, Brick landed at her feet. His arms were at his sides, and with a soft drip-drip noise, bits of rainwater coagulated at the edge of his backwards worn cap, before hitting the ground. He just stood there, watching her, no trace of mercy in his eyes. He slowly reached down for her with one hand, and she couldn't help but wince.

His hand paused at the side of her face.

"Should I kill you now? Break your neck, maybe?" He asked, though he couldn't be seriously curious. She had no doubt he was about to do what she had done to his brother, though in far less spectacular a fashion. "Do you want to die, little girl?"

She tried to narrow her eyes.

"Is that a yes?" He slowly stood up, hand leaving her cheek. He looked around, and kicked her clear across the terminal. She hit a wall and fell to the ground, something hard and metallic hurting her left leg. She managed a look, and saw it was a subway track.

Brick floated over her.

"You'll die here. Not in battle. Not gloriously." His tone was so casual, so horribly casual. "But... squashed like a bug hitting a windshield."

She forced back tears. Everything was so dark. Everything hurt. ...But she didn't want to die. Above her, he slowly started to lower, closer and closer. Maybe, she hoped, he would kill her himself.

"Do you want to die?" He asked, again.

She tried not to shake her head: no.

"Do you want to die...? He asked again, more slowly.

Buttercup bit her lower lip. Desperately, against her will, and yet a surprising part of it, a strangled "no" escaped her lips. Brick smiled, then, and it was the last thing she saw before his eyes flared a bright ruby red.

"Good."


"Hey!" The Green Rowdyruff grabbed her by the shoulders, roughly, slamming her face into the hard metal of her cell. "What the HELL were you thinking?"

She gave an angry snarl and tried to get free, but he was too strong.

She was too weak.

"Stupid move!" He slammed her into the metal again, hard. "I come ta bring ya somethin' to eat, and what'da'ya' do? Ya attack me!" He slammed her into the wall again, she felt like blacking out. "Ya goddamn BITE me! You're lucky I don't just kill ya here and now!"

"Go on!" She urged him on. "DO IT!" Just like this. A few more, and her skull would crack like a cheap ceramic mug. "COME ON!"

"Don't..." He leaned in closer, whispered in her ear (where her ear would be). "Don't tempt me. I ain't in a good mood."

"You..." She struggled to take a breath. "You don't have the...balls..."

His hands tensed, almost crushing her shoulders into jelly.

She could feel it about to happen.

"Blossom... Bubbles... here I come..." She thought, softly, wistfully.

"Gah!" With a snort of disgust, he let her go, tossing her to the floor. With a truly angry look, bordering on totally enraged, he tossed the contents of the brown bag he had brought with him at her. A flurry of lukewarm French fries hit her in the face, while Butch struggled to keep his boiling rage at bay.

"Don't you... EVER... screw with me again!" He said, in a low... fell voice. "I'll snap you like a cheap plastic toy and not give it a second thought!"

He slammed the bars behind him, turned on the energy shield, and left.

Buttercup stewed in her cell.

Her sisters weren't dead.

They weren't.

She reminded herself of that. Constantly. It was the only way to keep her fears at bay. She had, in what seemed like a distant past, wanted to be alone. She had hated how Blossom, ever the leader, ever the great student and guide, had gotten so much appreciation and love for her efforts. She had hated how Bubbles, so full of innocent joy, always needing attention, had received that attention and that love. Where did that leave Buttercup?

Alone.

Blossom was a doll.

Bubbles was a plushie.

Buttercup was an action figure.

She was the tough one. She was the strong one. The vicious one. The proud one. She hated dolls... Blossom's dolls. She hated plushies... Bubble's plushies. She hadn't imagined how much she would miss them. How much she would need them.

In the end, her strength had come to nothing.

Brick had dismissed her hardest, fastest blows with casual contempt, not because he was stronger or faster, but because he had kept his cool and known what he was doing beforehand. Worse, the point was now so cruelly driven home: There WAS always someone stronger. Butch had overpowered her, despite her determination and furiousity and force of will.

She fought to prove herself the strongest there was.

Both to herself and to others.

And yet every success had been a failure. The jealousy and insecurity remained, no matter how many layers of anger and physical might she tried to cover it up with. Now, in this dark little cell, immersed in nothingness, she had come to that realization too late. Why did she always realize these things too damn late? Just like with Ace...


"Hey, green-eyes! Wake up!"

She slowly, reluctantly, opened her eyes. Butch was standing over her. Green eyes, she was so glad to see. Not Red. Not Brick.

"Feeding time already?" She managed to say, sparing a quick humorless laugh.

Butch seemed to think about it.

"If you want," He said, after a bit. "We... um... sort of have a bit of a crisis. Some ass needs kickin,' and any help would be appreciated."

"After... after everything... You expect..." She gulped, and turned on the cot, gradually putting her feet down.

"Yeah. Basically," He answered.

Buttercup reached for her anger. Reached for her rage and indignation... and came up empty. She wasn't mad at him. She didn't hate him. Amazingly, she didn't even hate Brick. Her own pride, her own stupid stubborn impulsiveness had gotten her into this mess. Butch... he hadn't killed her. He had the chance, he had every reason and motivation to do to her what she had done to him, and yet, somehow, someway, she had lived.

And now, he was setting her free.

He wanted her help.

She looked up into his eyes, and saw the deep well of bitterness. The anger. Not at others, but at himself. She recognized it so well she wanted to reach for it in those dark emerald pools. The anger was more comfortable a cloak than the truth. Standing up, she looked down at herself.

"Is there time for a change of clothes?" She winced. "Even a bath doesn't sound too bad, right now."

He crossed his arms and smirked. "Mojo's got tons of fancy perfumed bath soaps... you'll have to ask him."

It was May 4th.