Author's Note: Well, history has repeated itself! I only wish to briefly offer my deepest apologies for delaying the latest chapter for so long. Oh well, at least I managed to keep an average of one chapter per month (although I understand that's a long time to wait). Regardless, please feel free to review openly, for a writer needs constructive critique to improve oneself. No, I won't promise to update sooner if you do: but the commentary is still appreciated.

CHAPTER TEN

In the ravaged laboratory deep within the shattered Utonium residence, a young, redheaded girl observed the destruction that had occurred. Needless to say, the sight was chilling to the bone: The Danger Room, the simulator that provided priceless ways to advance the skills of the Powerpuff Girls, was now just a mural of melting gashes in whichever direction one would look. On the chilling tiling, a long, snaking trail of blood droplets drew a path all the way up to where Blossom and Buttercup had found the professor. The sheer amount of the crimson substance induced a pale sickness into the super powered trio's leader. She would've bawled outright, but she did not have the energy: the ungodly hour of the early A.M.s sucked it away like a vampire.

An essence of nausea gathered into her stomach, threatening to instigate regurgitation. Blossom fought it back as best as she could: She needed to determine whose blood stained the household. Unlike Buttercup, who had run off without a word after the Professor was dropped off, Blossom wanted to eliminate all uncertainties. But she was still afraid of whose sample would match the trail before her. The things that might have happened here….

Blossom shook off that ominous thought and proceeded with the examination. A small dropper and a transparent slide were acquired from a nearby drawer. The tip of the dropper lightly penetrated a small puddle of blood. Blossom squeezed, and the substance oozed upwards. Moments later, that same sample plinked into the slide, forming a tiny circle.

The slide was placed into the slot of a highly advanced DNA Analyzer. "I'll need those other samples now." Blossom said, slightly trembling.

A slow hover to a suspended cabinet revealed what she needed: A catalog of preserved blood tissue, made to analyze the difference in the girls' composition (due to the chemical X) and regular folk- specifically, the Professor. She chose the required slides and gently shut the container.

Now, for the moment of truth…

The device before Blossom had a simplistic appearance: a jagged, molded box, with two slots, a single button, and a tiny LCD display. Using the DNA Analyzer is just as fundamental: insert two slides containing DNA, press the button, and the display would show how close (by percentage) the items match. A very low number indicates different species. A number in the middle shows similar organisms (such as two people). Anywhere near one hundred, of course, is an exact match.

Blossom prayed for a mismatch as the Professor's tissue was received.

Bzzzzzzzzzz…Ding!

The number popped into existence: 37%

"That counts the professor out." Blossom reacted. "But then…that would mean…Oh, no…"

She didn't have to try the other tissue. All logic pointed to Bubbles. It all made sense now: Her sibling, unable to sleep, went down to the lab looking for the Professor. Then, the Rowdyruff had escaped by thrashing the danger room, and…and…

She might not even be alive! Blossom realized. That Rowdyruff…he's a sadist…a monster…a demon…an abomination!!! He's worse than all of our archrivals combined! How could he do that to Bubbles!? How!?

With a sudden shout, Blossom swung an arm upwards and crashed it down into the Analyzer, reducing the tiny machine to a pulverized pile of nuts, bolts, and circuit boards.

This tragedy…I can't hide it from people forever. That fib I told back at the hospital won't hold ground.  Everyone's going to cry murder, and go after that albino Rowdyruff, and they'll get themselves killed!

Buttercup had the right idea, Admitted the redhead. We've got to find that scumbag before he can cause any more harm! And I think I know where he may be hiding…

Blossom, her genius working on overdrive, highlighted the most likely suspect: Mojo Jojo. He, besides the late Dick Hardly, had attempted to make artificial Puffs of his own for evil purposes. In fact, the maniacal monkey had instigated the creation of the first Rowdyruff Boys, a trio of pure villainy that was nearly successful in wiping the Powerpuff Girls out of existence. Of course, that plot had failed: But Mojo has been known to repeat his performances. All of these facts led to the conclusion that Blossom should pay a visit to the monkey's observatory.

But before Blossom could take flight and head to Mojo's home, the combination of stress and exhaustion finally conquered. Not two seconds passed before Blossom fell out of her hovering path and into a nearby couch. She fell further into the deepest sleep of her life before she even realized what was happening.

Fortunately for her, her feisty sister Buttercup had the same train of thought. The slumbering redhead can only hope the brunette is having better luck in her fight with the persistent sandman. 

***********

"Open up, Mojo!"

BAM! BAM!

"C'mon, Mojo, I know you're in there somewhere!"

BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!

Buttercup, being the hot-headed heiney-whooper that she is, had flown straight to the home of Mojo Jojo. Being one to bash first and ask questions later, she had crashed through the ceiling with megaton force, expecting the evil primate to be cackling, like a psychotic, at a restrained Bubbles on the brink of losing her life, while the Rowdyruff would smile a serpent's smile. Instead, she found the main room occupied with nothing but the monkey's various inventions of destruction, along with the typical couch and television. Buttercup never gave up that easily, though: she figured that Mojo was taking refuge in his bedroom, which of course had only one way in or out. Unfortunately for her, the door was fortified with nine feet of Titanium Alloy, a fact that revealed itself after Buttercup tried unsuccessfully to kick it down. After hopping around on one leg like a bunny rabbit for two minutes, the brunette resorted to driving out the monkey with a combination of booming bangs and the yelling of her slightly raspy voice. And she has done so for nearly half an hour!

"I'm gonna whack on this door for as long as I have to! I'll scream at the top of my lungs! I won't let you rest a wink until you tell me where my sister is!" Buttercup bellowed.

She proceeded to whip out the most cruel, torturous technique ever cursed upon a suffering sleeper: the paralyzing waves of a sonic scream. The cry rumbled the very foundation of the observatory, shaking the contents within like jumping beans. But hardly a moment passed by before the fortified finally door swung open, albeit in a sluggish manner, revealing Mojo Jojo in all of his baggy-eyed glory.

The scream was cut short when Buttercup saw the pathetic condition of the monkey: His green-tinted face twisted into a teeth-baring frown. The eyes were bloodshot, like two orbs of pink lemonade.  His blue pajamas were wrinkled and tattered. And his hands squeezed into vibrating fists.

The sight of this so surprised Buttercup that she could not to anything, except peep out: "Um…hi?"

"WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU WANT!?" Mojo exploded, the force of his cry blowing Buttercup away. "Do have the slightest idea what time it is? It is 1 o'clock in the morning! Not the evening, the morning! This is the time when normal people are quietly, peacefully resting in bed. But instead, you cursed Powerpuff Girl insist on making this entire racket at this ungodly hour, rambling in nonsensical gibberish about your sister! Are you not aware of the concept of sleeping? What every animal in existence does to rest? Or do you spend every minute of your wretched life harassing everyone and destroying everything like wrecking balls!?

"I, Mojo Jojo, may be a super villain, but I do not deserve this treatment! I demand you tell me the purpose of this torture that you strike upon me!"

Buttercup, sprawled on the ground, gathered her bearings and up righted herself. "Waitaminute," the brunette said, "You're telling me you have no idea what's happening?"

"Of course I don't!" Snapped Mojo, "I have spent my day away in my research, plotting my evil plots, and I would've executed some of my plans too had I not lost track of the time. Once I was done, I was overwhelmed with exhaustion from the time and had to go to bed to revive myself. And then YOU arrived! You cursed little brat!"

"Hey, how do I know you're not lying through your stinkin' teeth?" Buttercup retorted, pointing accusingly at Mojo.

The monkey let out a cry of frustration. "You fool! You think I spend every moment devising ways to destroy you?"

"YES!"

"Well…you're probably right. But still- I had nothing to do with whatever the heck you're babbling about! Now it's late, I've had a long day, and I'm losing my patience! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

And with a speed that caught Buttercup completely by surprise, Mojo grabbed her, barged through the front door of his home, and promptly booted Buttercup into the air. This action was humiliating enough in itself, but the fact that Mojo's front door was actually at the top of the volcano meant she had a long, long way down to the ground. Unfortunately, being caught off-guard scrambled her wits. She plummeted like a brick, crashing headfirst. Luckily for the brunette, her superpowers greatly augmented her resilience to hard falls, so she only had to bear the embarrassment of being halfway submerged into the earth, leaving a pair of legs kicking up to the air. Once she was able to pull herself out of her unusual position, she spat the soil out of her mouth and rubbed her throbbing noggin. The sound of general cursing and the slamming of a door could be heard high above.

Mojo's not the one behind this? Buttercup thought. If he's not the one, then who is!? Who else would make some rotten punk Rowdyruff to hurt my sister!?

She brushed the recent stains of dirt off her pajamas. I'm gonna have to keep on looking. That snot-ball can't hide from me forever. I gotta save my sister from this bad guy- no matter what the cost!

Once again, the pint-sized superheroine took off into the sky, her determination for resolution fueling her body like never before. 

**********

"I'm…so pathetic…"

The forest, usually abound with noise, had suddenly halted. All was silent, as if the trees and animals were shocked beyond belief. The eerie atmosphere did not help the white soldier's mood: his eyes were bloodshot, a testimony to the continuous rubbing of his teary face.

"I am truly pathetic," Pathie repeated, peering over to the girl now lying out in the open, covered in a makeshift blanket, but still restrained. "I've lived my post-college years on the brink of meeting death, defying all odds on distant hellholes, getting the impression that I was a real tough guy. Then, this blasted girl shows up, and I realize I'm still a bleedin' sissy! A weakling! A namby-pamby! And all those other names that I can't think of right now!"

Pathie proceeded to plant a roundhouse into the nearest maple tree. The thick trunk snapped in twain like a twig.

"If that blasted virus didn't start ravaging my planet, then I would've never been drafted and I'd live out my life in relative peace. Well, as peaceful as inspecting planets can get. Um…perhaps "peaceful" isn't the right word. Ah, the heck with it! I know what I'm talking about!"

"Oh, really?"

The sudden occurrence of a new, masculine voice startled the soldier silly. Another survivor, hiding in the woods!?  "Who's there?" called Pathie, looking back and forth amongst the trees.

"Do you really think that spending your years isolated from society is a pleasant lifestyle?" spoke the mysterious voice, its tone suggesting disappointment. "Out of all people, I'd never expect you to become an eccentric hermit."

Who in blazes does this guy think he is? thought Pathie. "Who are you to make such remarks?" he called again, attempting to follow the source of the voice. The task was proving to be quite difficult. The voice seemed to come from all directions.

"Pathie Zimbogous, I know you better than you know yourself," stated the voice. "I have been by your side ever since you emerged from your mother's womb. I was there when you first learned how to fly, and I witnessed the joy of your accomplishment. I was there when you left home for college and secretly took the advanced courses in self-defense, because you knew you couldn't cut it in life with just a Creative Writing major. I was there when you had your 'incident' in the girl's locker room, and became forever fearing of them because of the way they treated you afterwards. I was there when you realized that your ultimate decision to become a planet inspector caused the death of your mother, the only person in your immediate family left.  I was there as well when you heard the news at your distant space station that the sudden arrival of an unknown virus had killed everyone you grew up with, thereby making you the sole survivor of your community. And I was there, right beside you, all the days you endured being molded into a military scout, a procedure that was an absolute culture shock, even compared to your dangerous occupation before the draft. Yes, Pathie, I am perfectly qualified to make those remarks…because it takes someone like me to slap you in the face and give you a reality check."

As the voice spoke these words, Pathie shoulders began to shiver. The eyes widened into gleaming pits of grey, expressing disbelief. This person…he seems to know everything about the soldier's life. But how? All who knew him personally had died- a fact this entity already knew. It is a paradox! No one knows or cares about him now! No one! No one at all!

"How could you possibly know so bleedin' much? Who are you!? Who!? WHO!?" cried out Pathie.

"Does it elude you so much? It should be obvious now who I am. Out of all you knew, there is only one who could know you so well," replied the voice. "Think, soldier. You know me more than anyone. We are equals. True Equals."

Equals…Equals…Equals…Who is my equal? Pathie pondered, placing a "hand" to his brow. Equals are hard to come by. Does he mean in physical ability? No…he'd have to be from the job or the army- I never got involved with anyone from those places. Perhaps he means mental capacity? No…that would be someone in school. They're dead. What else is there?

Wait…there IS something else…but the prospect of it, could it really be? No, it couldn't! That'd be crazy. Yet…there's nothing else I can think of. The only way I'll get this cleared up is if I ask. I just hope I get a good answer.

"Are you…er…um…"  Pathie gulped. "…myself?"

The voice let out a soft chuckle. "Congrats, Pathie. You've hit the nail on the head. I am you. You are me. We inhabit the same body, the same mind."

The soldier staggered from shock. This is utter madness! I can't be conversing with myself! That's impossible!

"Oh, but it is," reassured the voice. "In times of great despair, I have always emerged from the depths of your subconscious to guide you to the best path. However, it would always be kept within your mind, since the problems that crop up can be solved without taking desperate measures. How else, do you think, could you have such vivid dreams about your family? But, analyzing the severity of this, it was time to talk face-to-face with you, so to speak.

"You see, Pathie, your previous choices in the past, combined with hard times, has made your entire race, as well as yourself, possibly destined for destruction. You know how desperate it is: most of the scouts sent on this mission were draftees too, and almost all of them have zero experience in high-risk operations, unlike yourself. Compared to you, their chances of success are nil. If you allow your social disadvantages to get the better of you, then there won't be a planet to go back to. You would become a true loner, facing hostility wherever you go, even if you manage to escape to other galaxies. Deep down, you know that is exactly what you fear."

Pathie covered his unseen ears, attempting with futility to drive out the voice. "Please…please stop…I'm not a schizophrenic…I'm sane…please…"

Ignoring Pathie's pleas, the voice continued. "True, you have lost a great deal. But you've gotten something that most only dream about: A second chance. If you succeed in bringing back the chemical needed to halt the pandemic, you will become a hero. The world's respect to you will be unmatched by anyone else's. It would give you a chance to do what your mother had wanted: for you to form a family of your own. However, being a celebrity will only do so much of the work. Your direct interaction with society will be crucial in following through to this turning point. That is why the unexpected presence of the blonde is, in truth, a blessing in disguise."

The ears clamped with greater intensity. "I know all this…I've been trying…losing my sanity will not help me!"

"Since you're in a remote area, away from all the hostilities that caused her severe paranoia, you have gained the chance to practice communication. If you can work towards gaining her trust, you'll not only get one step closer to completing the mission, but also gain the confidence you need to become a healthy member of society again. Who knows: if the two of you find something in common, you might even become close friends. But some advice: until you truly know the girl, it would be best to keep the relationship strictly platonic. You have a professional code to live up to.

"Do you understand me?"  The voice concluded.

"Yes! Now go away, PLEASE!"  Pathie shouted.

A deep sigh echoed in the air. "As you wish, Pathie Zimbogous, but remember: you created me. Until you patch the flowing wound you wrecked upon yourself, I may be the only companion you'll ever have. Oh, and by the way: you're not going to believe me, but the golden-haired girl is awakening. Better think quickly!"

And with that, the voice spoke no more to the white soldier, who, needless to say, jumped up in panic. What the voice said was true: the girl's eyes began to slowly open like flower buds. The pair's lids fluttered. At the moment, they were lazily scanning around, as if she was recovering from a quick little nap. But then, to Pathie's horror, the pupils suddenly locked on him. A glow of burning hatred appeared in the pearls of blue and black.

"Aw, bloody hell!" cursed Pathie, as he dove behind some cover, the following onslaught of lasers nearly piercing his battered body.