CHAPTER SIX

Bubbles.

For most people, the word means nothing more than the name of the orbs of liquid soap that entertain children with their carefree movements in the air. Nothing particularly special to the average adult, however: Most become preoccupied with their daily labors and unconsciously repress the delight that the floating, transparent spheres gave them in years gone by.

It doesn't seem like a word that would ever become a name for a girl. A pet, perhaps, but a girl? Yet, for the golden-haired Powerpuff christened with that name, the name fits her in ways that aren't usually anticipated. True, she is "Bubbly cute," as quoted from the Professor himself; but in a sense, it also applies to her emotional stability. Like a real bubble, she coasts on the winds of life with carefree abandon, her innocence and empathy winning the respect and care of those who appreciate her angelic demeanor and appearance. Yet, when someone or something comes along that is ignorant of or angered by this tranquil orb, they don't hesitate to smite that bubble, destroying the happiness and replacing it with an aura of near-inescapable gloom.

Over the course of time, Bubbles has survived through many emotional challenges, from the initial rejection of Townsville to the numerous conflicts instigated by her sibling, Buttercup. But none of her previous problems could compare to what happened ten minutes ago. In fact, the almost-fatal encounter with the sadistic, soulless Rowdyruff has left her devastated, to the point where she was incapable of even speaking about it to the rest of her family, thanks to the constant choking of her tears. So, after patching her up and cleansing her body and mouth of soil, the rest of the family helped her dress into her blue nightgown and prepare her for an early, long-lasting sleep, since it was obvious that she needed some time to recover. But once she was left alone in the bedroom, with her stuffed octopus in hand and the once-soothing hallway light creating a corridor of revealing brightness, the young girl was in a worse situation than before.

Bubbles began to stare aimlessly towards the center of the room. Her grip around her animal companion grew tighter as the inanimate objects began to morph into suspicious shadows. These dark forms varied in size and shape, but they all shared a similar trait. They were all haunting silhouettes of her inhuman attacker, moving silently through the empty black air, as if they were vengeful spirits on the hunt for a living soul.   

Bubbles' eyes darted around the room, as she tried to convince herself that it was only her overactive imagination. But the ghosts refused to disappear from her view. Instead, the shadows began to approach her slowly, emitting a low snicker from their non-existent lips. Had the octopus been a living creature, it surely would've died of suffocation by now, for the girl's iron grasp around its neck was literally squeezing the cotton innards out of the seams of its body. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, their frequent chops similar to a skeleton's cackle, and her face drained of any recognizable color, leaving behind the empty tint of a leper.

Reaching the front of the bed, the shadow's suppressed chuckles slowly increased to that of sinister laughter, as the creepy ambience was sharply broken by the all-too-familiar snaps of lethal steel echoed throughout.

And then…Bubbles snapped.

"AAAAAHHHH!"

Within moments, the young, super-powered little girl transformed from a frightened, powerless child to that of a destructive, one-man army consumed by a berserker's rage. The room was lighted in a chaotic swirl of colors as the mighty power of Chemical X blew away the shadows in a flurry of powerful punches, kicks, and the pinpoint assaults of impaling shafts of energy.

And just as soon as it started, her fury was sharply halted by unison of three, familiar voices, accompanied by the flooding of a fluorescent aura that instantly vanquished the darkness: "Bubbles, what are you doing?!"

The blue Powerpuff quickly turned to the three voices: Her sisters, Blossom and Buttercup, and her creator, Professor Utonium, all fully dressed, stared at her with genuine, alarming surprise. They saw the eviscerated remains of the girl's playthings, the scorched streaks and cracks on the walls and carpet, the smashed mirror at the make-up table, and the scarred figure of a bewildered Bubbles, who upon seeing the destruction she caused had collapsed to her knees and buried her face in her hands. Her feelings of shame and desperation overwhelmed her conscience, forcing a river of salty liquids to fall from the child's eyes.

"Whoa…our room…Bubbles totaled it!" Buttercup said, almost in a whisper, unable to produce the usual, prodding tone.

"My goodness," the professor added, also weak in the throat. "Bubbles, what happened here?"

The blue Powerpuff gave no answer.

"Professor," Blossom said softly, "I think Buttercup and I should get ready for bed, that way we can stay with Bubbles and help make her feel safe."

The scientist looked on at the young blonde, fearing for her life. "Okay, then." The professor whispered back, after an awkward moment of silence. "I'll keep an eye on you-know-who."

*************

Down in the basement, in the dim-lighted, spotless collaboration of quarters that is the Professor's laboratory, the intelligent man himself had placed himself upon one of the many office chairs that littered the miniature research facility. In front of him was a control panel that consisted of a complexion of dials, switches and buttons, all arranged in a perfect square formation upon the cold steel of the panel itself. The professor was resting his elbows upon it, which in turn supported the hands that held his head in place so that he could keep his vision upon a certain figure: the limp form of the black-and-white Rowdyruff, laying face-up on the floor of a barren, secluded room that, except for a single window providing Professor Utonium with his view, was devoid of any imperfections. It was like as if someone took a hollow, geometric cube and enlarged it, to the point where a person could walk inside and gawk at the pure symmetry of one of humankind's most essential mathematical discoveries.

It's hard to believe how much suffering that Rowdyruff caused today, the professor thought. While I'm still uncertain what exactly happened out there- Blossom and Buttercup's descriptions were a bit sketchy- It's obvious that this creation is as ruthless as the first three.

But what really bothers me right now is this Rowdyruff's…inhuman appearance. At least the first three looked like normal boys, but this one…looking at him the first time, I thought that he was a lifeless corpse. Not even natural albinos have such an opaque color of white! And his hair - grey as a senior's. If I didn't know better, I would've assumed him to be one of the vengeful undead, resurrected by the mind of a megalomaniacal genius!

The professor let away a slight chuckle. Well, we scientists all know how ridiculous that would be. All these technological advances over the years and we've yet to reanimate the dead. Casting all fiction aside, it stills leaves one burning question in my mind:

Who created this Rowdyruff?

It couldn't have been Mojo Jojo. That evil genius with the observatory on the volcano had already tried to destroy the girls using the first three Rowdyruffs, and ultimately failed. And then…

He sighed. No, it couldn't have been Dick Hardley. His interests were in money, not world domination. Besides, the deformed copies he created had turned against him and brought his factory- and most likely himself- down to a flattened heap of ash.

The professor's eye's narrowed into a burning glare of persecution. Well, it doesn't matter who created this villain. All I know for sure is that this Rowdyruff is responsible for the shattering of my Bubbles' confidence. When I saw her standing amongst the destruction she caused to her own room out of pure fear, I could clearly see how every drop of happiness was siphoned out of her, leaving behind a frail, shivering body saturated in paralyzing fright. If this creation is anything like the first three, he won't feel an ounce of regret, which will leave me with no other choice but to-

The professor's train of thought was interrupted when his sight caught a slight twitching within the confines of the makeshift prison.

And so, the sleeper wakes…

************

Pathie Zimbogous, slowly reanimating from the sedation, was quickly introduced to three distinct feelings: the coldness of a metallic floor, the stale flavor of the circulated air, and the occasional pangs of discomfort that comes with having severe burns in the most inconvenient location of a biped's body. His eyes were greeted to the sight of an empty room covered by a rectangular grid pattern, with a tinted window on the wall to his right.

Well, I have to admit, this wasn't what I was expecting for a cell, Pathie thought, as he slowly lifted himself up into an Indian position on the ground. Not even the prisons back in my world are so basic. Heck, back at home there was never such a thing as "minimum security!" But first things first…***

Using an unscathed part of his right appendage, he lightly rubbed the sleeve of his left arm. His senses picked up the squishy complexion of synthetic plastic.

Hmm, that camouflaging feature works better than I thought. My body's been to who-knows-where and not once did they detect it!

The scout did his best to suppress his usual grin, not wanting to reveal his trump card to whoever happened to be watching his movements. Once the giddy feeling subsided, he was about to strategize on his means of escaping his confinement when a deep, tinny, solemn voice echoed into the room:

"Had a nice rest, sleepyhead?"

The ominous utterance startled the young scout from the floor and onto his feet. "Who's there?" he called out, scanning for its source. He received no answer.

"Listen," Pathie began, "I don't know who or what you people think I am, but I can assure you that I am not-"

"Hmm…what an interesting language," interrupted the voice. "It's not like any I'm familiar with. Almost like an infusion of Russian and Swahili. It would be very interesting to speak to the ones responsible for your creation. However, for the moment that is not important."

What the heck is this person saying? Pathie thought, Curse my hate for linguistics!

"As you are most likely aware, you were nearly successful today in the destruction of my little darlings, The Powerpuff Girls. It must warm your heart to know that the one you attacked first is now emotionally unstable. There she lays in her bed, once a bright star, now so paranoid that she would obliterate anything she perceives dangerous, even if it was a harmless shadow."

As these words were spoken, the voice's tone began to waver in and out of its normal pitch, as if it was slowly being possessed by the likeness of a furious, demonic entity.

"But now…Now that I have you in my custody, I will make it my ultimate goal to make…you…suffer!"

Before the scout could realize what was happening, the entire cell was enveloped in a black pit of empty air, giving the illusion that he was in the dark…but his own body was still visible to him, as if he was basked in the glow of a high-intensity searchlight.

"What the-! What the bloody devil's going on?!" said Pathie, now fully panicking at the sudden transformation of the cell.

"It just so happens," continued the voice, "That you are being restrained in my own, homemade 'Danger Room,' a special 'Holodeck' that I invented just for the training of my three little angels. Considering you're supposed to be stronger than them, I'm sure beating the simulation at Level 13 should just be a piece of cake for you."

Just as soon as he said that did the blackness instantly give away…to reveal a horde of monstrous, bloodthirsty titans in a hellish setting of a city set aflame, all charging towards the point where a horrified, white-skinned, extra-terrestrial stood.

Oh, fudge! Thought the soldier.