CHAPTER SEVEN

Bubbles, Blossom, and Buttercup, dressed in their comfy nightgowns, were laid underneath the soft blankets of their Deluxe-size, tri-colored bed. The intelligent redhead, placed on the left, had grasped her shuteye without too much trouble, as her spirit left her body and roamed through her personal dreams. The tomboyish brunette, placed to the right, had also managed to escape into unconsciousness. The sensitive blonde, however, was still wide awake as she tried to get comfortable in her reserved section in the center. Although the presence of her sisters calmed her fears of the shadow, she was still frightened of what horrors she would have to endure if she ever managed to get her rest.

Oh…this is hopeless! Thought the blonde, as she finally gave up sleeping and stared up towards the ceiling. I'm just not sleepy enough. Not sleepy at all. Not since…he came.

Why did I have to be such a scaredy-cat? She continued, as regretful ness took hold of her mind. I'm a Powerpuff girl: a superhero! I'm not supposed to be afraid! If only that doo-doo brain didn't have that…that needle!

Her body shook upon thinking about the weapon that the immoral villain wielded in their encounter.

If I wasn't so scared of needles that Rowdyruff would've gotten a hard kick to the place where the sun don't shine! And then my sisters wouldn't have to save me like a cat in a tree!

As soon as she thought that, the loud rumbling of a moaning golem resonated from her torso. The surprisingly high amplitude of the sound was enough to render a shade of cherry red on the cheeks of Bubbles' face.

Was that my stomach? Wow! That was really loud! Thought Bubbles, suddenly remembering that she had completely skipped dinner when she was emotionally shattered. This realization also brought on a tremendous ache in her waist, which up until this moment was involuntarily repressed by her subconscious.  

Aaooh…I've never been so hungry before. I need to eat something…something big. Big like a whale! And I'm not going to get it if I just lay here…

The blonde contemplated the idea of going down to the kitchen to grab a snack: Although she was starting to feel better, the young girl was still afraid that the Rowdyruff may appear out of nowhere, waiting to strike again. However, she also knew that the professor would probably be still awake at this hour, and would most likely keep her company once she completed her voyage to the humming refrigerator. And the great, physical strength bestowed upon Bubbles at birth has returned to her slightly, which assured her that she would be more than a match for any villain waiting to pounce.

Well, I'm going to get a bite to eat, thought Bubbles, as she snuck her way under the blankets to the front of the bed, And if any meanies try to get me, then WHAMMO! I'll sock'em good!

*******

In the secluded quarters of the Professor's Danger Room, Pathie Zimbogous found himself to be a shrimp amongst a horde of starving behemoths.

There was never a time to catch any breath, for any lengthy pause was sure to bring about his doom, considering the onslaught of fireballs, acid, and gigantic spikes that came about his direction. The titans themselves appeared to be invincible: thousands upon thousands of beams would carpet their hides whenever Pathie attempted a pitiful strafing run, but not even the smallest indication of a scar would ever appear.

In the soldier's case, however, it proved to be the opposite: even with his natural ability to fly, he still had more than a few close calls with the lethal projectiles. They left Pathie with numerous tears in his uniform, to the point where they barely clung to his body. The exposed parts of his flesh were not spared either, for the fresh wounds stained his albino complexion with small streams of crimson red. And while the monsters showed no sign of letting up, Pathie's strength drained at an alarming rate.

"GRAH! Nothing's working against these abominations!" said Pathie, as he quickly distanced himself from the titans and took refuge in the remnants of a small skyscraper. "How could this be possible!? No kind of organism could withstand laser beams so well!"

The scout looked over to the horde of monstrosities: Even now, they were quickly approaching his position, their blood-curdling roars echoing through the simulated wasteland.

"If I can't hurt them with lasers, then by own Estrox-fueled strength would surely be ineffective as well…so what else could I possibly do to stop this torment?"

"Pathie Zimbogous, you are a very forgetful person," spoke a familiar, mechanized voice.

"What the- Oh, for crying out loud…how could I forget about my MPSD?" Said Pathie, slightly relieved, as he turned his attention to the plastic disc attached to his left arm.

"You must activate the disc's offensive procedures to ensure your survival, not to mention the continuation of the mission," continued the MPSD.

Pathie's face twisted into confusion. "You have offensive measures? I thought you were just a-"

His words were rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of the mother of all closed fists, which blew right through the fragile wall and impacted the soldier head-on. Needless to say, it caught Pathie completely off-guard, and by the time he regained his senses, he found himself trapped within the grasp of that same fist, which promptly began to squeeze mercilessly.

The soldier's voice cried with pain and agony as the passageways of his lungs began to close in. He felt how his bones slowly began to bend, coming closer and closer to the moment where they would snap like brittle twigs. His mind could think of nothing else except for the inevitable demise that was coming to him…

…but just as soon was he ready to embrace his death did the titan unexpectedly toss him away, followed by another bellowing of pain, only this time it wasn't his own.

 As Pathie slowed himself down to a stationary hovering, he sensed an overwhelming feeling of Déjà vu: he was once again on the brink of losing his life, when an unexpected stroke of luck freed him from his fate at the very last possible moment. The first time was because of the MPSD; the soldier sensed that the device may be the culprit this time as well. He looked down upon it to see what it had done, and was greeted to a most surprising sight: protruding from both of his blood-stained hands was what Pathie could only determine to be meter-long blades of pure, translucent white energy, both shaped in the design of a European, two-handed broadsword.  

Hmmph! That little disc wasn't kidding! Although I was hoping I'd get a powerful, long-range missile weapon instead, thought the soldier, as he examined the twin swords with admiration. But I guess these will have to do. These blades look like more than a match for the creatures' thick hides!

Now fueled with a new self-confidence, the soldier flew with incredible speed towards the titan that had bestowed a death grip upon him moments before. Aiming for the thighs, the scout quickly slashed the colossal legs simultaneously, extending his blades in opposite directions while he flew straight through the gap in the middle. The monster wailed at the burning sensations, and collapsed to the ground, incapacitated by the severity of the wounds.

That's one threat neutralized, thought Pathie, Now I must take care of the rest.

One by one, the monstrosities that brought hell upon the soldier were quickly eliminated by the precise, surgical attacks of the said character. Their bellowing echoed throughout the wasteland as they would plummet with a loud crash into the fiery remains of the city. The whole process was so efficient that there was not a single behemoth left standing in a matter of minutes.

Certain that there were no more possible threats, Pathie slowly floated down to the ground. He collapsed to his knees as exhaustion began to overthrow him. He struggled with the feeling, knowing that his captors may decide to reinitiate the torture again, which he would never be able to survive the second time around unless he found a way out, and quickly.

Judging by all the distance he supposedly covered, he realized that the room had somehow kept him in a stationary position whenever he walked, ran, or flew anywhere. That meant that he would never be able to touch the walls or the ceiling of the room. He could try his luck at burrowing his way out…but the execution would be long and tedious, and he would probably reach a few feet into the ground at best before security would rush in and swiftly kill him. The only option left, then, was to find a way to deactivate the chamber.

But how the bloody devil am I going to that if I can't even touch the bleedin' walls!? thought the soldier, at once frustrated and distressed.

Bowing his head with nary an inkling of hope within him, Pathie's eyes made a quick glance at the two melee weapons attached to his hands. Upon doing this, the soldier noticed a rather peculiar sight: the blades were almost completely buried into the ground that he rested upon. Having figured out long ago that he was in a highly advanced simulator, it surprised him that very little force was required to pull the swords out and stab new holes into the earth that was obviously the virtual facade of the metallic floor.

Hmm…they cut through metal as if it was mere butter. Perhaps…perhaps not all is lost…

"Computer, what is the maximum length of the energy blades?" inquired Pathie, his words exerting a strong sharpness.

"When combined into one, the energy blades can extend to their maximum length of one decameter," responded the MPSD.

"One decameter!?" Pathie yelped. "That's overkill! I need a length of about half that amount. Is that possible?"

"Place your blades together by joining your hands," answered the MPSD, "and the rest of the procedure will be automatic."

Pathie did as he was told without hesitation, for his hunch proved to be correct: He was once again enveloped in a virtual darkness, which could only mean that the torture chamber was resetting itself for another run. As the two swords fused into one massive weapon of destruction, its length grew at a steady, but excruciatingly slow rate. At the same time, it was also gaining an exceptional amount of weight, as Pathie clung to the strength he had left to keep it up towards the hidden ceiling. His sweat was profuse and it mixed with his exposed blood, forming a repulsive, bitter taste when the mixture seeped into his mouth.

It felt like an eternity before the weapon was finally able to visibly penetrate the void, a sight which stole a tooth-bearing grin from the soldier. Shouting a war cry like a desperate marine on the front lines of battle, he swung the newly formed blade in every possible direction he could, forming great gashes of wires and circuits that bled lethal bolts of electricity, until the darkness finally faded away into oblivion. The now-demolished grids of the torture chamber and the single window that indicated his escape route were at once revealed.

Certain that he no longer needed his energy sword, Pathie quickly uttered a command to disable it. The weapon quickly decomposed into the familiar particles and retreated back into the versatile disc. He slowly floated over to the window and cautiously peeked through to see if there was anyone on the other side: He was greeted to the sight of more corridors of lifeless metal, but did not catch any signs of indigenous life. He shattered the window and prudently exited from the chamber.

"It seems that whoever was keeping watch here must've hurried out at quite a speed," remarked Pathie, as he observed a large chair that was tossed onto its side. "That means I'll have quite a bit of company if I don't skedaddle out of this facility."

The soldier hastily ran off in search of the exit, never taking notice of the enigmatic, night-black substance that rested upon a nearby table in a large beaker, labeled with a slanted intersection of two white lines.

******

Having mustered up the courage to leave the bedroom on her own, Bubbles the blue Powerpuff sat upon one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table. Upon that table, one would see a mess that would send any neat-freak into a nervous breakdown: smears of peanut butter, globs of jelly, cluttered butter knives, and torn pieces of bread and the containers that once held them, all smashed together in every which way. The only thing that didn't show signs of dirtiness was the one little object that resulted from Bubbles' hard labor: A scrumptious peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

"Well, I finally got my sandwich," Bubbles said happily, as she wiped a little sweat from her brow, "Whew! I never knew making them by myself could be so hard." She turned her attention to her mess: "Maybe I should clean up before I eat, though…"

The girl's stomach quickly interjected with a loud grumble.

"Then again, maybe the Professor won't notice!" She agreed, lifting the sandwich up to her mouth and taking a few, tiny bites from it. The time-honored tradition of the mixed peanut paste and smashed grapes between two pieces of white bread proved to be very satisfactory to both her tongue and her stomach. She savored it for every second, and didn't hesitate to stuff herself with greater bites of the suburban delicacy.

When she managed to eat about half of her late-night snack, young Bubbles ran into a little problem…

"Mmmm? Mmmmm! Mmmm-mmmh!"

The poor blonde, perhaps enjoying her snack just a bit too much, had bit off more than she could chew, causing the sticky substances of her sandwich to clamp her mouth shut like a clam.

Oh, no…I don't want my mouth stuck! The girl thought, Everyone'll make fun of me!

She grabbed a nearby glass from a cabinet and zipped her way to the refrigerator for a quick drink, hoping it would help to loosen up the contents. To her dismay, she discovered that the only drink available was the Professor's favorite lemon juice. Not lemonade- just pure lemon.

Water! I'll use the water from the sink!

She made her way to the kitchen faucet with haste, her face gradually gaining an expression of desperation. She turned the knob for the cold water and awaited the pure liquid that would save her from her unforeseen predicament. Unfortunately for her, the professor had closed the valves that night in an effort to preserve water, and air was the only thing that came out.

Aaaahhh!

Now Bubbles had two options left to her: She could either use the lemon juice to wash out her mouth and risk upchucking the contents of her stomach, thereby making a humongous mess that would take all night to clean, or she could leave her jaws wired together forever, and spend the rest of her life communicating to the world in an eternal game of charades.

Oh, if only the professor was with me…Bubbles thought. Then I could get out of this mess!

It is interesting that she should say that, for there was hardly a moment after that statement before Professor Utonium barged into the kitchen, his face as white as a ghost and his hands shaking without any form of control.

Bubbles turned to him, and immediately felt a pang of guilt upon seeing the wretched state her father figure was in. Oh no, he's seen the mess I made! I'm in deep doo-doo now!

However, instead of being chastised, the professor exclaimed to her: "Bubbles! Oh, thank goodness one of you are awake! You have to help me, Bubbles! It's terrible! Terrible!"

Bubbles tried pitifully to speak, but all she could say was "Hmmm? Hmmm-mmmm-mmmm-Hmmm-Hmmm?"

The professor, overwhelmed in his panic, rambled like a madman, and his words were as unintelligible as Bubbles'. Since neither could understand what the other was talking about, they both grew increasingly frustrated with each other until the professor started to shake Bubbles with his bare hands, his gibberish raising in tone, while Bubbles immediately went hysterical.

Professor, what are you doing?! You're hurting me! Thought the frightened little girl, Stop it, please!

As if on command, Professor Utonium had suddenly stopped his physical actions as soon as he had started it. His eyes glazed over, his tongue fell silent, and the arms dropped to their sides. After a small moment of awkward silence, the professor's footing slightly began to waver. His mouth dropped open, as if he was in shock, and then he ultimately fell backwards upon his back.

Bubbles, staring at the now-limp figure of the Professor, was even more frightened now. She slowly brought her vision up from the floor were the professor laid, and looked forward….and immediately froze when she saw a certain figure equipped with a familiar needle looking down at the silent body, scarred by countless wounds and a grimace a mile wide.

Consumed by terror, Bubbles could do nothing, except faint.

*****

Author's Note: Well, as you all know the school year is coming up soon. While I can't guarantee anything, I can assure you all that I will attempt to keep the chapters coming as well as I can, despite how slow they are developed already.

Also…it's surprising to me that I have received such acclaim from my reviewers. I wish to thank you all for sending out your praise and your commentary (Especially Almaseti: his observations are very blunt and thought-provoking). However, if anyone feels that the story could be improved, be sure to tell me about that as well. Too much praise can easily inflate my ego. (hehehe)