Chapter 20: Deterioration
Pokey Oaks County? Pokey Oaks Woodland Reserve?
? FEB (?) 1989. ?
"Bubbles? Bubbles?" a kindly feminine voice was calling out to Bubbles, no, it was singing her name. "Bubbles…"
Bubbles, however, would not respond to it. She had been surrounded by a horde of Purple Men, and she was too afraid, too scared out of her wits to respond to anything. At this point, anything and everything could be a trick.
"Open your eyes," the woman's voice said patiently. Bubbles felt coaxed into doing so, and when she did, she wasn't disappointed nor afraid any longer. The most beautiful and angelic being she had ever seen was hovering in the air before her, her face framed by golden locks of hair, her dress sparkly blue. She was held aloft by a pair of angelic wings, ethereal and mesmerizing. "It's going to be okay."
The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.
10 FEB (Friday) 1989. 1920.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The dreaded clown phone rang again, not even twenty-four hours after the previous one, the bad night that removed Bubbles out of Blossom's sisterhood round table permanently.
Blossom had been playing with Buttercup, as usual, falling into her tomboyish influence when it came to leisure. An hour earlier and outdoors, they were playing catch the way Daddy taught them – except the ball had flown as far as a few houses over, hundreds of feet into the air. However, they didn't play catch for very long as flying everywhere was tiring. Now, they were putting together a train set, stuffing plastic people into the passenger compartments and cargo, both normal and weird, into the freighter sections. There were logs in one cargo compartment and Velociraptors in another.
Bubbles had been staying in bed all day. She didn't even go to school when Blossom and Buttercup did. While she wasn't sick, not that she ever was, she didn't feel like doing anything. Had it not been for her Dad, she wouldn't even have eaten or gone to the toilet at all. She had to be dosed with a box of sleeping pills last night.
Last night had been running on repeat since Blossom had done a little tit-for-tat, abandoning her in the child trafficking front building just as Bubbles had left her for dead with the Purple Man. Had Detective Mullens not found her, she would have been left there, at least until Dad forced her to fetch her.
After Detective Mullens had found her, he'd put his trench coat around her, asked her gently what had happened before reassuring her that everything was going to be fine.
Before Blossom and Buttercup could leave, the old man had hunted them down and prevented them from being dismissed and sent flying home. He'd straightened things out with them, though Bubbles couldn't remember what was exchanged between them nor did she listen, because what had happened in the child renting room had been on her mind since.
Before she knew it, all three of them were in Mullens' muscle car. Olivia wasn't in it – she had taken the subway home instead. Straining her memory, Bubbles remembered that the talking dog had refused aggressively to go with Olivia. He'd sat between her and the other Girls instead, putting its front leg around her shoulder like a human pal as she leaned on him speechlessly, her mind a total blank.
She remembered what happened next when Mullens had personally sent them home. Mostly because her Dad was there. He'd rang the doorbell and Daddy answered it.
Selicia had ushered them inside and they sat around the coffee table in the living room. Blossom and Buttercup looked nervous, probably because they were afraid of getting into trouble. But Bubbles… Bubbles was still in that child renting room, still chained up and violated. She could still see herself in chains as she stared blankly at the wall of her living room.
"I'm afraid today's a bust," Detective Mullens had said, Bubbles somehow remembered. "It was bad, Mister Utonium."
"What were they sent to do, officer?" Bubbles remembered her Dad interrogate Mullens as if he was some criminal, a mix of firebrand accusation and horror in his voice. "What did you subject them to this time?"
"It wasn't me," the detective had defended himself. "I was just one of the foot soldiers today."
"That's what they all say. Aren't you a little too old to fall for the Bystander Effect?" Dad had criticized Mullens harshly.
"Look, I tried talking to the man of the hour!" Mullens had gone at length to defend himself, making himself look worst. "I tried talking him out of it! But it wasn't my operation, and I had to follow the chain of command!"
"Don't you shout at him!" Mom snapped at Mullens even though he didn't really raise his voice all that much. Mom was holding Dad's hand possessively for the entire thing. "Can't you see how hard it is to raise children like this?"
"Of course, ma'am, it's not that I-" the old man tried to clear things up, but was interrupted.
"Talk is cheap," the professor said to Mullens as if he was facing an enemy in a fight to the death. It was the first time Bubbles had seen her Dad this way, looking like he was ready to kill someone. "Tell me what happened."
And Mullens did. He gave them everything – Detective Wednesday's plan involving Bubbles, the child trafficking ring, the raid, and finally everyone's reactions when Bubbles broke cover prematurely and caused the operation to fail, condemning every kidnapped child (but five) in the ring to life as either manual laborers or under-aged sex workers.
"Is it true, Blossom?" Daddy had turned to Blossom when Mullens got to the part where Blossom tried to abandon Bubbles in the middle of The Strip. Bubbles had never seen her Dad so angry before. Even Blossom was terrified to tears of him.
"Is what Mister Mullens said true? Did you leave Bubbles behind?" Dad had asked with a voice shaking with restrained anger. "I want an answer, Blossom Utonium."
"I was just so angry, Daddy…" Blossom explained in tears. "All those children – She shouldn't have used her powers, Dad! She shouldn't have-"
"Don't you 'Daddy' me! Go to your room, Blossom," Daddy's eyes were shut when he demanded, as if he was in great pain, his voice seething with anger. Anger that could no longer be contained, no matter how dearly he loved Blossom. "Now!" The pink-eyed of The Three flew up the stairs, crying, but soon her wailing could not be heard after the door to her room was slammed shut.
"Buttercup, you'll go to my room," Dad had then said.
"What did I do!?" Buttercup snapped back, and Daddy didn't like it one bit.
"Don't raise your voice at me, young lady!" Dad yelled back, pointing at her before pointing to the second floor: "You should've defended your sister! Now get going. I'll talk to you later." Bubbles shook when he was shouting, even though it wasn't directed at her.
"Fine," Buttercup said, sounding like she had still done no wrong. She'd pouted all the way up to the second floor and slammed the door shut. There was silence after that. It was awkward to have a police detective witness all this. Neither was their family exactly a normal American family. In some far future, he would likely think back to this moment and thought it was like something out of a TV series.
"Don't be too hard on them, Mister Utonium," the detective finally said, trying to alleviate the tension. He was never good at that. Conversely, he had a talent for creating tension. "I'm sure they didn't know what they were doing. They're kids, after all."
"Don't tell me how to parent my own daughters, officer," Dad snapped at Mister Mullens. "And don't you dare patronize them again."
"I wasn't, Mister Utonium."
"Of course you weren't," the professor said defensively. He'd been on edge for far too long to do otherwise.
"Dad… Stop… please…" Bubbles remember herself pleading for her Daddy to stop chastising Mister Mullens, despite drowning in her own depressing memories, in her own miseries.
"I think it's time I take my leave, then," the old detective said with a sigh, realizing that he had overstayed his welcome. It didn't take long for him to ruffle some feathers, but he was used to it: he'd experienced it all the time when he had to visit the homes of his dead or injured colleagues or of victims of crimes. Within a few years of doing this, he'd thought of himself as a therapist or a counselor of the punch bag variety. For every slap, shout, accusation and insult he took, he was making the victims feel better. This particular incident, however, would stay on his mind forever, probably even follow him six feet under.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The clown phone had continued buzzing in Bubbles' mind, implanted deep into her memories as a herald of doom.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
Bubbles! Bubbles! Bubbles! It seemed to scream at her. The clown phone sounded as if it wanted to drag her to some forsaken place.
"Bubbles! Bubbles! BUBBLES!" it turned out to be Blossom screaming at her after all. Bubbles had been lying on her side, facing an empty corner of the Girls' room. When she turned to face the music, she realized that Blossom had been looking down at her from above, floating in her tactical gear with her MP5, which was the length of her entire leg, in one hand. "Finally! Didn't you hear the phone? Get dressed!"
"I don't want to…" Bubbles said, her face a blank as she stared up at the ceiling. She turned in bed after that, again facing away from her as she lay on her side.
"General Blackwater wants all of us - I told him you wouldn't want to, but he didn't care," Blossom said, her arms crossed as she seemed to stand in mid-air. "I wouldn't have bothered with you otherwise. Now get dressed!"
Reluctantly, Bubbles got up, even with her mind still crowded by the past week's nightmares, real and imagined. She was still in her pajamas - not only did she miss school, but she had missed the day's patrol as well. Time had ceased to be a concept with her. There was only one time period now: the past, the horrible, horrible past.
Bubbles floated to the walk-in closet, trying her best to stay in the present, but the flood of bad thoughts kept washing over her like a tide at its highest, drowning her – and she was still chained in that terrible red room-
"Hurry up, Bubbles!" Buttercup shouted from the window, already impatient from waiting a few seconds. She'd been sore not just in body but in her mind as well - getting defeated by the Purple Man had made her really unhappy. It'd ruined what she thought was her day. The operation at The Strip was supposed to provide her with some fresh meatbags to make up for the Purple Man, but then Bubbles had ruined that. She wanted to make up for both today. "I want to punch some things! Man, what a slowpoke!"
A minute later, Bubbles was still not out of the walk-in closet yet, and Blossom had to fly in to help get her dressed. As it turned out, she had zoned out inside, while changing, and had only succeeded in removing her pajamas. The very act of removing her clothes had reminded her of the bad night, not that it was ever out of her mind.
The professor had entered the room while Bubbles was getting changed. By the time she was done, the professor was already sitting on the Girls' bed. On seeing him, she flew to him for a hug.
"Do I have to, Dad?" Bubbles was gripping tightly onto his lab coat. She didn't want to let go if she could help it.
"Does she really have to go, Blossom?" the professor asked the declared leader of The Three.
"Mister Blackwater wants all of us there. He said it's big," Blossom said, all the while trying not to look at her most pathetic sister because she knew she'd glare at her and Daddy didn't like that.
Selicia had walked in on them in the meantime. Buttercup wasted no time in embracing her. In the meantime, the security officer turned mom gave Blossom a warning through her stare, angry enough she thought it would turn red from green. That look alone scared Blossom – she didn't want to know what was next if she failed to keep Buttercup untouched.
"But I don't want to…" Bubbles mewled.
"Bubbles, look at me," the professor said as he stroked her cheek lovingly. Bubbles searched his eyes desperately, hungrily, hoping for some kind of magic in it. "I can get you out of this, believe me. I think I have a way out for you – the three of you."
"When can I stop doing this?" Bubbles could feel hope rising in her as she latched onto his words.
"Give me a few weeks. I have to make sure it's safe," the professor said.
"But I can't, Dad! I can't take it anymore!" Bubbles cried. She could feel small arms wrapping around her own when she did. Seeing Bubbles like this had shattered the professor inside.
"We have to go!" Blossom said impatiently. "See you later, Dad."
"Yeah, come on, you baby!" Buttercup added as she yanked Bubbles off of Dad before flashing a toothy, guilty grin at the professor when he frowned at her for her choice of words.
The Girls had to fly out a single port window because of Bubbles, with only two streaks of light behind them.
The professor looked on, feeling helpless and falling into despair. Selicia sat beside him and embraced him. It was all she could do – to be there for him.
"It looks bad now, but maybe Bubbles will pull through. She's slow to adapt to change, but she'll get there," she said in an attempt to comfort him. "It happened before, and it can happen again."
"And I'll make sure it happens," the professor said as he opened his eyes, wide and determined. Standing up, he marched out of the room and down to the lab.
"What do you mean?" Selicia asked as she followed him down.
"I've been hesitating for far too long!" the professor said. "Calculating and recalculating, going through the entire procedure over and over! Analyzing the same risk factors over and over!"
"Honey, what are you talking about?" she asked as they'd gone down the stairs and into the living room, barely keeping up with her 'husband'. His language had always been a mystery to her.
"The Anti-X, Selicia. I'm talking about the Anti-X," he said as they both got through the airlock leading to the labs.
"It's the only way Bubbles will pull through," he continued as they descended into the lab. "It's the only way they'll all pull through. They're not fit for law enforcement. They never were."
Below, dozens of potted plants were arranged neatly in rows and columns on one huge table, all of which were covered by bell jars. Some of them looked mundane, while others were fantastical. There were a few with glowing flowers – mostly sunflowers - and a few that could even move, with their flowers tracking Thomas and Selicia for some unknown reason the professor did not pursue. One of them shot a pea at them, only for the pea to bounce around in the bell jar.
When the professor got to his desk, he pulled a few pages of documents out of a drawer. Then something hit him. He froze.
'I'll think about it,' Blossom had said when he asked her to be more patient with Bubbles. It'd suddenly occurred to him where she got it from. While he was spitefully rejecting Mister Morbucks' plea for help on the phone, he'd turned to look at the Girls' door when he saw Blossom peeking at him from there, probably wondering why he was shouting. She'd heard it from him. Alice came to mind after that.
'Don't forget who you are. You're a good man, and you shouldn't let anything change you,' Alice had advised him back on Saturday, 'The Girls look up to you, Tom, and if you break and become something else, so will they.'
He'd never taken the advice to heart. Much as he liked Alice as a friend, he'd never liked her psychiatric perspective - too little science, too much wriggle room that could lead to mistakes and misinterpretations.
Until now. She'd been right all along. Blossom was changing because of him - whether his role was big or small did not matter. He'd changed her in some negative way.
"Thomas, what's wrong?" Selicia asked, very concerned about the way her lover had frozen up over the desk. She came up to him, putting a hand on his back, letting him know that he wasn't alone.
"Am I a good man, Selicia?" he asked. He wasn't even sure anymore, after everything. Had he changed and taken Blossom down with him? "Am I still a good man?"
"Yes," Selicia said without reservation, without pause, without a hint of trickery or cunning - something she'd do for Thomas and Thomas alone. "You've always been a good man, since the first day I saw you. I love you - and I mean it - because you're what I can never be."
The professor reached for the phone after giving Selicia's words some thought. Picking up the receiver, he paused, then realized he was missing the number. He searched for it through the cardholder and after failing to find what he was looking for, went to the wastepaper basket instead. It was where he found it - a card with gold and silver trimmings and a crown in the middle, all crumpled up but very well-made with the name in the middle of it unmistakable. He started punching the numbers in and put the phone to his ear.
The phone ringed in his ear as if deciding whether to act on the professor's little confession.
It beeped continuously, forcing a pregnant pause as if letting him decide to slip back down the hole.
Until eventually, it relented.
"What is it now?" a deep voice, hoarse and exhausted, answered the phone. "I've already told you, I can't attend that board meeting! Can't a man have a peaceful moment to himself these days!?"
"It's Professor Utonium," Thomas said.
"It's you," the man on the other end said defensively, apprehensively.
"I'm sending the Girls to Elodie," the professor said.
"You- you are?" the man on the other end said, sounding like he'd just witnessed a feat of true magic.
"Yes. Now, they're involved in another mission today, so chances are-" the professor had tried to explain the terms, but Mister Morbucks was so grateful he couldn't stop to listen.
"Thank you- Oh thank you! Really- Thank you so much-" the billionaire sounded like he was crying, on all fours, even.
"Chances are, they'll only be able to make it tonight, if even that," the professor continued explaining without pausing to acknowledge the rich man's gratitude or feelings. "Or if they come back injured, probably tomorrow, or the day after. Maybe you should tell Elodie they're coming. It'll cheer her up."
"I had to lie to her constantly that they're coming, this entire week. And when they didn't, I had to lie that they were caught up in something. Saving the day or building a house for the poor or some other excuse that… tears at my soul," Mister Morbucks let off his deepest thoughts, surprisingly, before catching himself and stopping it. "I can't thank you enough-"
"Don't thank me, Morbucks," the professor said coldly. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for your daughter, and mine." And with that, he slammed the phone down. He hunched over his desk, wondering if he was doing the right thing - wondering if, like all his other good intentions, he would just end up hurting someone again. Selicia embraced him as he agonized over his decision even when he'd made it, putting an arm around his shoulder.
"You did the right thing, Thomas," Selicia said. "You've always done the right thing."
"Selicia, honey, I need to work now," the professor then said, the determined look on his face still unchanged. "I'll be with you when I'm done." Realizing that he might have been a little insensitive when Selicia's expression changed, he pecked her in the lips as he caressed her face - a way for him to express his apology and love.
"What about the wedding photos?" Selicia asked - they had been planning to have a family photo with the Girls, and the plans had to be pushed back constantly whenever the Girls came back looking like they'd been through a war zone - though that wasn't far at all from the truth.
"Maybe next week," the professor pushed it back again, even further. Upset and disappointed, Selicia left him alone and went up the stairs leading to the surface. With her gone, the professor began walking away from his desk. Walking past the supercomputer and the Chemical X storeroom - he'd been stockpiling on Chemical X lately - he came to a special glass room tucked secretively at a corner of the lab where no one had gone to. He switched the lights on in the glass room.
In the center of the glass room was a metal table that was made to the size of the Girls, resembling an X with a rectangle in the middle, looking oddly like some space-age sacrificial altar. There were shackles on every limb of the X. A tray full of medical instruments was sitting beside it. The entire table was made of Duranium, with legs that went deep underground, secured to the foundations of the lab by steel and concrete such that it would be impossible to lift the table without lifting the entire house. The professor had ordered it built over the past couple of weeks the moment he realized that Anti-X was a real possibility. It was built little by little while the Girls were out, expedited by Wiggums, the head of USDO's logistics arm himself until it was done.
But it was more than just a precaution. Buttercup would certainly not give up her powers willingly. Would Blossom? No, he decided that neither would she - she had become very invested in helping others with her enhanced abilities. He was only confident that Bubbles would relinquish her enhanced abilities when given the chance. For the rest of them… It would be better that it be him who forcefully take it away rather than someone else. It was something only a father should do if it came to that, he decided…
For the Girls' own good.
