Like a good communist, I own nothing.


"Gauntlet: Crucible"
Part 7


May 4.

"You realize this plan is INSANE, don't you?!"

"Who are you calling insane, boy?!" Mojo's face was a twisted image of fury. "It is a brilliant plan! It is as fine and acceptable a course of action as a whelp like you is to ever see!!"

"You'll kill us all, you GOD DAMN MANIAC!! I won't commit to this... this... pathetic excuse for a plan! I won't!!" Brick was yelling now, his face starting to get red. On the sidelines, Boomer and Butch watched, torn and helpless.

"How DARE you address me in such a manner?!" Mojo howled, "I gave you LIFE!! I gave you DIRECTION!!"

"You... you pompous... overbearing... egotistical... MONKEY!!"

Boomer stood, shocked. Brick had never called Mojo a monkey, even in jest. He looked to Butch for some small measure of comfort. The raven Rowdyruff was standing, arms crossed, his face an angry frown. Anger. Butch's shield against the world. Boomer pushed his own emotions down, promising to deal with them later.

"MONKEY?!" Mojo took a step towards Brick. "SAY THAT AGAIN."

Brick stood, his body shaking, ready to explode.

"SAY IT, BOY!!"

"Monkey." Brick snarled. "MONKEY... MONKEY... FILTHY FLEARIDDEN MONKEY!!"

"I've... I've..." Mojo was short on words, stuttering for the first time. "I've had ENOUGH of you! I gave you life, and I CAN TAKE IT AWAY!! Do not forget who is in charge here!!"

"You are in charge of NOTHING without us! Without me!" Brick took a step forward himself, not willing to back down even an inch. "This is... just an opportunity to get rid of me! To kill me and by brothers! ADMIT IT! You're jealous of us! You always have been!!"

"I treated you like my own FLESH AND BLOOD!!"

"STOP IT!!" Boomer exploded, cutting the two off. He was trembling and unable to stop. "Just... stop it..."

Brick quickly deflated.

Mojo wasn't as slow to cool down. He was still breathing heavily, eyes flaring mad, upper lip curled revealing sharp teeth. With only a second's hesitation, he lashed out with a gloved fist, striking Brick against the jaw. The Rowdyruff leaned with the blow, but kept his footing. Mojo was still enraged.

"Never..." He said, slowly, every word carefully chosen and spoken. "Never speak up to me again."

Brick seethed, but said nothing.

"Do you understand me?" Mojo growled.

Brick nodded, slowly.

"You will watch your tone from now on." Mojo turned, long cape billowing. "We will use my plan, and my plan will succeed, because it is a brilliant plan, understood?"

Brick said nothing.

"I will not tolerate failure." Mojo walked off, shaking his sore hand.

Brick looked after him, eyes slowly following his creator's footsteps. Boomer and Butch approached warily. Never before had Brick looked so dangerous. Like a wild animal, caged for so many years, and finally given an opportunity to draw blood and raise hell.

"Brick... dude... you ok?" Boomer asked, one hand out. Brick looked fine, Mojo wasn't strong enough to do real damage, but there was a hint of a bruise.

"Yeah, man. Are ya...?" Butch echoed, but kept his arms crossed.

"I'm fine," Brick said quickly, and flinched when Boomer reached for him. He smirked, blinked, and seemed to be back to normal. "Great, even. We'll go with Mojo's plan... at least unless I come up with something..."

"We're back!"

Brick stopped, instantly, and his eyes darted to the open Observatory door.

"So you three actually showed. Good." Brick noticed they had the Professor with them. "Professor Utonium. ...A pleasure to finally meet you in the flesh."

"Likewise," The older man returned, wary.

Brick motioned for them to follow. "Come on. I'll explain this... plan we came up with just recently."

Blossom led the group, and they followed him deeper into one of Mojo's laboratories. On the way, he caught her looking at him: his face.

"What is it?" He challenged. "See something... interesting? Maybe I have a magic crack-head fairy on my shoulder? Is he dancing the 'macarena' again?!"

"No!" She quickly said, and looked away, rubbing her cheek.

Brick, in an obviously foul mood, led them to a chalkboard without another word. Roughly, he grabbed a piece of white chalk and started drawing. "This plan requires three things... four things, actually, if you include a lot of luck ...a major distraction beyond those we already have running, a shield, and a really, really big goddamn gun."

Bubbles gasped.

"Pardon the language." Brick continued without pause, drawing a rough outline of the city. "It had been determined that the best place to set up shop for a weapon would be the bluffs here, far outside the city, near Farmsville. By using the natural cover of the upwards curving bluff, roughly here, which we have scouted beforehand and labeled Bluff Extension 12C..."

"Can we call it Sunnyglade Bluff?" Bubbles asked.

"...Fine. Its codename is now Sunnyglade Bluff. Happy?"

"Yes!"

"..." Brick closed his eyes, concentrated on control, and continued. "By using the natural cover, we can construct a makeshift high tolerance shield within the earth of the bluff itself. We believe this hidden nature, and the fact that it is behind the bluff, will not be interpreted as a threat, and thus, not fired on."

"And the gun..." Blossom guessed the rest logically. "Will be built behind that. You'll then fire it through the earth of the bluff, in some sort of keyhole in the shield, and at the stationary target."

"Exactly!" Brick frowned, deeper. "However, the shot must be incredibly precise. A deviation of even one meter will mean failure to damage the living core of the target, and an immediate retaliation. Because of that, and the nature of what we believe the composition of the creature's core, we will be using an identical beam to that of the creature, replicated perfectly. Besides the obvious time constraints, the main problems are as follows...we have found no armor available that can stand up to the creature's beam for more than three, maybe four, seconds. Additionally, our current distraction, a military barrage, will result in a great deal of destruction and loss of life."

"Like I care too much about that," Brick bitterly thought.

"Finally, the beams must be powered by an incredibly compact and...unorthodox power source." He paused for effect. "Us."

"What?!" Buttercup blurted out. "Whatda'ya mean us?!"

"I mean us. The Powerpuff Girls. The Rowdyruff Boys. We will power the gun... combine our attacks and energy."

"Like using the Starburst Ray attack." Blossom explained for her sisters. "Or the Ferocious Fiery Feline."

"It is the only way to... hopefully... ensure a guaranteed one shot one kill," Brick finished.

"Won't that cause it to explode?" Blossom asked. It was a rational question. The same kind he would ask in her place.

"Yes," Brick answered, honestly. "There will still be an explosion. Energy cannot be just created and destroyed. We don't exactly know how it's..."

"Zero Point Energy," The Professor said, cutting him off in mid sentence. "But you are quite right. Energy cannot be destroyed. It won't magically go away because we don't want it."

"So we're still left with a continent shattering kaboom?" Butch stated, dryly.

"Yes." Brick looked down. "Essentially. However, if the plan is completed, implemented, and successful... quickly... the resulting explosion will be far less, and below that capable of causing a climate-changing kaboom, firestorm-starting kaboom, or a humanity-go-extinct level kaboom."

"Wonderful." Butch rolled his eyes. "Should we start playing 'It's the end of the world and I love it' when we do this thing?"

Brick stared at him long and hard.

"I... don't have a better plan." He rubbed his jaw. Butch and Boomer quickly looked away. Butch spat out a silent curse and stormed off. Boomer looked between his brothers, hesitated, and ran after Butch. Bubbles looked after them as they left, obviously worried. Buttercup was just scowling to herself. Blossom was deep in thought, but she didn't look optimistic.

"I may have something to help with that last problem." The Professor cupped his jaw, his mind racing. "Either way... this is what we have to go with. I take it Mojo's already gotten started."

Brick nodded.

"Then we'd best stick with it." The Professor sighed, warily. "You girls stay out of the way. You can't use your powers... even inside the building. I wouldn't risk it. Mojo and I will take care of this, and so will the people of Townsville and Farmsville. We don't have much time, so I want all of you to keep an eye on each other, and we'll take you to ...Sunnyglade Bluff when everything is nearly ready."

Brick almost cracked a smile.

"Father knows best, I suppose." His small smile disappeared as quickly as it came. He started to leave. "I've... got to find Boomer and Butch. You three: don't wreck the place. Some of us have to live here."


Blossom watched him grow, increasing trepidation in her heart.

Had he let them free, just so they could die?

Would she die for Townsville... for the world?

Yes. She had already decided the answer to that question long ago. Yes!

Boomer looked out, over the bluff, at the city of Townsville.

It felt good; the cool air of twilight. Soon it would be dark, and everything would be under it, like a soothing palm over the face on a hot day. Or, alternatively, they would all soon die. For Boomer, it wouldn't be the first time. A return to the bodiless pain of nonexistence, as he remembered it, wasn't something to look forward to. Instead, he focused on the darkness of the city, only highlighted by a few pinprick lights, all in fear of the silent, hovering demon in their midst.

He'd heard that there been no evacuation notice.

It would only cause panic, and it wasn't like anyone could escape anyway.

Succeed or fail, win or lose, soon everything he saw would be gone, replaced by a crate large enough to fill in a new inland sea. Indeed, he could well be the last person to ever see Townsville like this... or at all. It made him feel special. Privileged.

"Boomer?"

He turned slightly at the voice. He hadn't expected her to be off by herself.

"What?" He asked, sounding a little meaner than he would have preferred. Bubbles sat down next to him, dangled her legs off the edge of the wide bluff. It extended out about thirty or so feet, into a dirty, rocky incline, but they were effectively at the edge. Bubbles sat next to him, silent, for what seemed like hours.

"You scared?" She finally asked.

"Me? That's a laugh!" Boomer laughed at that, and at himself. "I should ask why you're not scared of me!"

"Why would I be scared of you?"

Boomer was taken aback. "I'm... I'm a Rowdyruff! I was made to kick Powerpuff butt!"

He didn't even mention the (near) week he'd kept her locked up under Mojo's Observatory, in solitary confinement. He was still expecting the Girls to attack, snarling and angry, despite Brick's repeated attempted explanations about the mental changes they'd supposedly undergone.

"Oh." Bubbles looked down at her dangling feet. "So why aren't you?"

"Che. Don't tempt me." Boomer let out a deep breath, and looked back at the horizon. In the distance, he could hear the faint 'booms' of Battleship shells exploding, far off, as the black sphere's deadly weapon intercepted them. "I'm just... not in the mood right now."

Bubbles licked her lips, nervously.

"I'm... I'm scared, too." She reached out, and in an act of incredible bravery, she took his hand. Boomer flinched a bit at the contact, but didn't resist beyond that.

"I'm... I'm not scared..." Boomer maintained, in a weakening voice. He looked around and behind him, making sure no one else was around. He cursed himself - after the times he'd talked to her, she probably suspected why already. "I just... don't want everything to fall apart... Why can't they be happy with each other?"

Bubbles say anything.

She didn't have to.

Just being there was enough.

"I feel... so helpless... so damn helpless and worthless and... I want to hold things together, but they stretch, and so I stretch with them, and and..."

She squeezed his hand, and he fell silent.

Eyes shut he squeezed back.

"Maybe..." He gulped. "I'm so afraid to die... again... I'm such a sissy yellow coward... the weak link in the chain that can't hold its own... in anything..."

They sat there, the two of them.

One ruff.

One puff.

Both afraid.

Behind them, the bells of a church rang. It was time to die.


Boomer and Bubbles were the last two to strap into the machine. It was a long cylinder that held the six children, and even with their small size, it was a fairly tight fit. It smelt of solder and burnt circuits, and the Professor took turns carefully attaching them to different electrodes that would monitor their energy levels, and their life signs. The cylinder itself would collect and focus their energies.

Lined up in two neat rows, the Professor kissed each girl on the forehead, the boys tried not to look, or even acknowledge it, and then with a hasty 'clang' the top was sealed. Like sardines in a can, like electrodes in a battery, they were ready. The air was stale and overly oxygenated. Slowly, they approached the countdown. It wasn't dark; there was a faint light to the cylinder, but no screen to see their foe. Their target.

Butch started to hum to himself, and soon started to sing with a sardonic smile.

"Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred:
Forward the Light Brigade,
Charge for the guns' he said,
Into the valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred..."

"This is really helping set the mood, man!" Boomer grumbled.

Brick just scoffed.

The Girls just looked at them all like they were crazy.

Outside the 'Battery,' far to the north, as the hour advanced, the military moved. Planes and helicopters took flight, headed for Townsville, trying to get into weapon range. Flurries of long-range missiles were fired from bases and nearby mobile sites. Tanks rolled. Jeeps raced forward. And like corn before a scythe, they were cut down.

Butch seemed oddly cheerful. "Come on, Brick! Sing along. You know the words!"

The red Rowdyruff looked at his brother... and smiled. "You're one crazy bastard, you know that?"

"Forward the Light Brigade!'
Was there a man dismay'd?
Not tho' the soldier knew,
Some one had blunder'd:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die,
Into the valley of Death,
Rode the six hundred..."

Their signal came, and as one, the Powerpuffs and the Rowdyruffs focused their energies. The cylinder did not glow, it didn't heat... it barely even acknowledged their efforts. Outside, the long assembly way that was the weapon began to charge, racks and rows of capacitors, hundreds of them, hummed wildly, venting steam into the night sky. In seconds it would be ready. To the north, the advance, and the slaughter, continued.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them,
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot & shell,
Boldly they rode & well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell,
Rode the six hundred.

With a crack of thunder unheard since primordial times, with a sound that seemed to blanket and snuff out the world, guided by the precision and timing only a computer mind could calculate, the weapon fired. Red and green and blue, merged to white, crackling with power and righteous fury, from the formerly quiet bluff it exploded. The distance was crossed in a heartbeat, streaking over plain and field, hill and dale.

...And missing its target, the living core of the monster, by mere inches.

Flash'd all their sabres bare,
Flash'd as they turn'd in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while,
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke,
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian,
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter'd & sunder'd.
Then they rode back, but not,
Not the six hundred.

From the ink black surface of the sphere, countering, pushing back the opposing white that sought to destroy it, the creature focused its own titanic power. Slowly, it pushed the killing beam back, even as the computer corrected its course, adjusting its aim. Behind the bluff, behind the hope of Townsville and humanity, generators whirred and capacitors steamed, threatening to explode or melt. And still, the black sphere pushed the killing beam back, faster still, its own beam growing a terrible, brilliant white.

"Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them,
Volley'd & thunder'd;
Storm'd at with shot & shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well,
Came thro' the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.

Inside the Battery, the heat grew intense. Nothing was said, no word uttered, no sound made. There was only concentration towards a single purpose. A single goal. A lone aim. Survive. Win. But amid the determination lurked fear, and doubt, and recrimination. Fear of failure. Fear of destiny. Fear of self. Fear of abandonment. Helplessness. Nothingness. In that space, at that moment, that instant in time, the heat unbearable, the pressure untenable, it came to be that there was reached... a climax.

There was a roar like a lion thousand fold...

The world trembled...

And, beyond doubt, there was light.

When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!


Brick sat, and looked out over Townsville from his perch high over the city. He adjusted his cap and winced slightly at the pressure on his still hurting scalp. He was... content. Things had gone well, despite his lack of preparation and foresight. The immediate crisis was over - though long-term problems remained. The Powerpuff situation had resolved itself in nearly the fashion he predicted, fortunately, so that was one less thing to worry about. The Girls were... psychologically attached to him, and his brothers, thanks to the phenomenon of Stockholm Syndrome, and would remain so. They would be of great aid. Indeed, the future would be impossibly bleak without them.

Mojo would not understand that.

He had not seen what Brick had seen.

Nor could he.

And so, Brick looked out over his city. Indeed, like none before, he had conquered Townsville. He came and went; he did as he pleased, he was the master, and they were his slaves and dogs, though they did not even know it. They had tasted of the bittersweet forbidden fruit that was superhuman heroics, and had come to depend on it for survival. To them, he was a champion, though a dangerous one. And, perhaps, he was a champion, of sorts. Brick watched as Boomer flew through the sky, carefree, in a moment of pure enjoyment and serenity - so rare. He watched, as Butch looked out from a similar perch over the city, thinking very different thoughts. Down below, the tickertape parade continued. The Powerpuff Girls were back, and the Town had been saved, though very few knew by how close. At the center of the parade, just rounding the corner far below, Brick saw his three enemies, his three allies, his three sisters, waving to their adoring public.

No, the Girls would never oppose him again; they would not be his enemies.

They would be his bulwarks.

His reinforcements.

Mojo remained both father figure, and perpetual threat. Brick knew that Mojo actively desired the defeat and humiliation of his favored son, of his brilliant protégé, of his black sheep. Such a situation was, in reality, unavoidable. And thus, it would simply have to be worked with. Brick was... up to the challenge.

Looking out over the ocean, he remembered...

He had not seen it, no one had, really. But their power had somehow magnified at the last moment, as the creature's power was overwhelming them, slowly pushing them back and eating away at the layers of armor, formerly the Girl's prison cells, that provided meager protection. Their beam had crashed against the creature's, at that end, like a tsunami overtaking a ripple of tidewater. The creature had been pierced to the core, a hole blown through it as if its substance were nothing more than dust to be scattered. And, finally, as it had readied to explode, releasing its built up energy, the Professor's DYNAMO machine had taken it in its arms, crippled and dying, and warped off into space at top speed. The explosion, hundreds of thousands of miles from the surface of the earth, was supposed to have been spectacular.

Brick had not seen it.

He had been too busy thinking.

He knew, of course, what had happened at the last second that had saved them all. He knew many terrible things. Ignorance would have been far preferable, but one of them had to remember, and as leader, it fell on his shoulders. Looking far out to sea, Brick sat on his high perch - his throne.

And he waited.

(...Continued in "Gauntlet: Lies")