(Note: To see artwork for Act 2, visit this fanfic and this chapter on Archive of Our Own.)


ACT 2: HIS SECRET

"All sins tend to be addictive, and the terminal point of addiction is damnation." - W. H. Auden


Chapter 25: Leap of Faith

The City of Townsville. Townsville Industrial Park. Church of the New Trinity.

12 FEB (Sunday) 1989. 1130.

After parking the family saloon on the side of the road, Professor Utonium turned the ignition key and switched off the engine of the car. It sputtered into silence. Getting out of the car, he could only wonder if he was at the right location - after all, one does not normally find a church in the middle of an industrial or warehousing district. And yet, the address that was given to him clearly indicated a warehouse to be the 'Church of the New Trinity' itself.

Selicia got out of the shotgun seat while Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup hovered their way out of the passenger door on the driver's side. They were all dressed formally - the professor in a suit and tie, Selicia in a black dress while the Girls were in formal versions of their favorite color-coded dresses, puffier than the everyday dress, but less so than their party dresses. Their waist sashes had bows tied at the side rather than at the back. Blossom had additional red ribbons adorning her hair. Bubbles' ponytails were held together by shiny-blue ribbons. Buttercup was wearing the same green hair band she wore to Elodie's Masquerade ball, which she hated.

A fair distance away, several humvees and an APC stopped, disgorging USDO soldiers taking up defensive positions. The location was so suspicious that the Powerpuff Task Force detail guarding the Girls had to consider it a potential trap and ambush and send in more troops than usual. Undercover agents had already been sent in from the nearest USDO outpost beforehand - and while the entire city block had been scoured for enemy presence only to reveal none, Captain Scott, the man in charge, had still decided not to leave anything to chance.

"Are you sure this is the place, Thomas?" Selicia asked as she studied the warehouse that was supposed to be a church. The first thing that caught her eye was the name of the church, proudly displayed on the facade of the warehouse. 'Church of the New Trinity', it read. She couldn't recall what could possibly be the 'New Trinity'. She knew only about the usual trinity in Catholicism.

"Thirty-seven Chester Road - Olson Warehousing," the professor had pulled a card out of his suit's chest pocket and read the address from it. "Yep, this seems to be the place."

"Odd place to have a mass," Selicia said as she took her handbag out of the car.

"It looks dirty…" Bubbles said as she came up next to Dad, holding his left hand.

"It kinda looks boring, too," Blossom added as she followed her Dad, holding his right hand.

"Do we have to, Mom?" Buttercup whined as she came up next to her, holding her right hand. "I'd rather stay at the Princess' mansion. I was stuffing myself with lots of good food..."

Selicia did not answer. It felt as if there was no choice in the matter when it came to religion. The bishop at the Cathedral Basilica of The Most Pure wasn't happy when Buttercup had practically threatened one of his priests with death, and although he hadn't expressly forbidden Buttercup nor the rest of the family from visiting again, she didn't want to find out what the reception would be like after that.

Right before they left the cathedral, the kindly old woman sitting near them had pulled them aside, and given them a card - the card Selicia gave to Thomas, which was what led them here. The card had introduced them as the Church of the New Trinity. She assumed it to be another Catholic church. Only, the warehouse before them didn't look like the usual kind of church. For one thing, the shape of it was completely wrong. It'd reeked of all kinds of wrong - but her security friend, Captain Scott, had provided a certain degree of assurance if things were a certain kind of wrong.

As the family approached the main entrance of the 'church', which was a huge set of double-door large enough and tall enough to accompany a forklift with a triple stack of crates (which was likely the original purpose of the entrance), two attendants on either side, one a woman, the other a man, both wearing white suits, smiled at them, or specifically, at the Girls. For some reason, Blossom found it a little creepy but smiled back regardless. Bubbles, although traumatized by her time in The Strip, did not let it break her stride, and smiled back too. Buttercup didn't care and simply frowned with her arms crossed as Selicia pulled her along as if she was a balloon.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, and their assigned 'parents' were backed up by an excess of eight USDO guards, who stared menacingly at the attendants in their full combat gear. Four of them flanked the family, the other four were right behind them. It didn't seem to intimidate the attendants.

"Greetings to the Three of You, Holy Ones," the woman welcomed the family as they approached, taking a deep bow. The male attendant did the same. "And to the nurturers of the Holy Ones."

"Welcome," the male attendant echoed. "Please, we humbly invite you to our House of God - Your house."

Professor Utonium could not help but to raise an eyebrow at the way they were referring to them. The change in tone was obvious even to the Girls - whose previous encounter with religion did not put them on a pedestal. If anything, they were treated with suspicion in the previous church and they knew it, though they didn't hold anything against the bishop as he was nice since he taught them a prayer, and got his friend, the priest, to listen to their troubles.

Still slightly bowed, the attendants then proceeded to open the wide and tall doors. The Girls and their Dad and Mom were about to make a move when they were politely interrupted.

"Before You enter Your House, may You please bless us with Your touch?" the female attendant beseeched the Girls, mainly asking Blossom as she was closest.

"Yes, please bless us with Your touch," the male attendant repeated, directing his question to Buttercup.

Blossom responded wordlessly by hovering up to the female attendant's chest level and sticking out a hand for her to shake. The female attendant took it with both her larger hands, brought it to her lips as she bowed and kissed it. Blossom retracted it, shocked at the extreme display of adulation.

"Thank You… Thank You so much!" the female attendant gasped, her smile graduated to a fulfilled, toothy grin as she was on the verge of tears.

Meanwhile, Buttercup had stuck out a hand – the male attendant was more reserved, and he shook it. Buttercup gave it a squeeze, which caused the man to grimace in pain.

"Thank You kindly," he groaned as he retracted his hand, rubbing it.

"You're welcome," Buttercup said with a mischievous grin as she returned to her Mom's side. Selicia had seen what had happened, and she chuckled to herself because she thought it was funny – and that Buttercup was cute when she was playful. Cute and playful was better than psychopathic and homicidal.

Bubbles approached the Catholic cultist Buttercup had hurt and opened wide her arms for a hug. The man gasped as he realized what she was offering. He mirrored the gesture, and Bubbles proceeded to give him a brief hug, which melted him. Bubbles had seen what Buttercup did, and she felt sorry for the attendant. He seemed nice and didn't deserve to be hurt for it.

The inside of the warehouse-church was unexpectedly well-kept and furnished. Where there used to be industrial shelves, giant crates, and forklifts, there were rows upon rows of pew, each row eight or ten pews long from left to right – none within the family could decide how many exactly as they couldn't see where each pew started and ended.

Many hundreds, perhaps even a thousand church attendees stood up when they saw who were coming to their Church, approaching them. A pair of ushers came up to them, gesturing kindly for them to follow. The USDO guards were watching them like hawks, ready to pick apart their prey at the slightest provocation.

"May I ask what's going on?" the professor questioned one of the ushers, who looked sheepish, too calm considering the black-geared, no-nonsense black ops soldiers surrounding them. The usher looked at him as though he didn't know what Newton's three laws were.

"Don't you know? You're the Father of the New Trinity. Just as Saint Joseph is the father of Jesus." the usher said. She was a mere teenager, perhaps all the better to be indoctrinated. As a boy, Professor Utonium had been to the church, not a Catholic church, but the kind with a Sunday school in it. He didn't find the experience pleasant nor tolerable.

"What, and am I supposed to be Mary, Mother of Jesus?" Selicia said sarcastically. She didn't like that these people - whoever they were - had butchered the Catholic faith.

"Yes. It is known," the other usher, also a teenage girl, concurred.

"It is known," the first usher repeated. Selicia couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

They were led through the center aisle. Every single pair of eyes in the warehouse-church were on them as they approached the front, looking like royalty marching in with a contingent of honor guards. There was a stage up front, with a podium, where an aging man stood. Bubbles thought he looked familiar. She blinked her eyes a few times to make sure she was seeing him right.

Yes - he was the same priest she had saved back in the Battle of Morbucks Industries Research Labs. Behind him, where the stage ended, was stained glass, three of them specifically, created in the image of the Girls. In the center was Blossom, the glass representing her in various shades of red, orange and beige. Bubbles was on the left - or the right hand of stained glass Blossom, in shades of light blue, gold, and beige. Finally, Buttercup was on the right - or the left hand of stained glass Blossom, in shades of lime green, black and beige. They were depicted as angels, complete with a halo hovering above their heads. Sunrays coming from the skylight illuminated them for all to see.

"Welcome to the Church of the New Trinity, Holy Ones," the bishop at the makeshift pulpit greeted, then turned to Bubbles. "And thank You, once more, for saving my life, o' Holy One, and gracing me with Your presence once again."

"Urm… I'm just glad to help…" Bubbles said shyly, feeling her cheeks turning red from the language being lavished upon her.

"Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is George Luther - I was once blind to the truth, and now, cast out as a heretic by those I formerly called friends, I seek to spread it," the old man spread his arms out as he identified himself. "And now the three of You stand before me. What do you think, Holy Ones? What do You think of my work?"

"Why do you keep calling us Holy Ones?" Blossom asked, flattered but confused. She had a feeling that something wasn't quite right. Her one day in church had taught her enough about religion to know that 'holy' tend to be a word associated with God, Jesus, or the Trinity.

"But You are the Holy Ones, are You not?" George asserted. "Angels sent down to Earth by God to do battle against evil?"

"I don't know about angels and god, but I am here to fight evil…" Blossom tried to clear things up with the church founder, though she herself was distracted by her blushing - the church leader sure had a way with words. "Crime, I mean. And so are my sisters, right?"

"Right!" Buttercup replied enthusiastically, with power in her voice. In her mind, she cared nothing for what the priest thought. The bare mention of fighting evil and crime had brought back fond memories of how she had erased certain criminals physical - for good.

"I guess…" Bubbles said - still with reservations about everything. She didn't feel 'holy' in any way, not with what she had done in secret to help her sisters and the citizens of Townsville.

George Luther the cult leader smiled at them - it was an oddly fatherly kind of smile. Behind the Girls and their Dad and Mom, the congregation was listening intently, taking in every single word from the Girls as though it was gospel.

"I'm glad to hear that," George said. "Now please - I have seats prepared for the five of You…" And they were led by ushers to a kind of VIP corner by the stage - except it was probably reserved for the apparently divine. The seats were expensive sofa surrounding a coffee table, like a part of a living room transplanted to the warehouse.

Professor Utonium had something to say about this - a lot, in fact. There was just too much going on, much of which infuriated him to the point where he didn't know whether he should be laughing or blowing up. However, seeing that the Catholic cultists seemed friendly enough, he decided not to trash the occasion - however misguided he thought it was - and got along with the program. Selicia, on the other hand, was feeling something similar, except with an infusion of confusion thrown in. Moreover, she couldn't help but to wonder if there were benefits to be had by practically being declared a living saint, with the Girls being considered divine…

The rest of the day was one of exploration and surprising excitement, even for the skeptical. The Girls and their assigned 'parents', in the meantime, were treated like royalty - this was even extended to the USDO soldiers guarding them, who were constantly being referred to as the 'Knights of the Trinity'. Their every whim was catered to, though they were restrained in asking for anything, sometimes with the professor's influence. The Girls were given drinks and snacks - fizzy sodas and biscuits - on request when the professor allowed it. The 'servants' would offer all sorts of things - a change of clothes, meals, massages, soft toys - but those offers were ultimately rejected, either because the Girls (with the exception of Buttercup) were too shy to accept them or the professor wouldn't allow it.

The former bishop, George, in the meantime, had been preaching from a refreshingly different angle, one that was never explored in the Catholic orthodoxy, and they were all tied to the Girls one way or another. His sermon could only be described as grounded and earthly, despite the religious context. They were, however, a jumble of half-conceived rhetoric and points fused to one another on the fly. According to George, the Girls were sent down from heaven the same way Jesus was - through the USDO and Thomas and Selicia (whom he thought were the biological parents of the Girls). The professor couldn't help but crack a condescending smile at this.

According to George, the Girls were also doing God's work by banishing crime from Townsville, and he believed that it was through them that all of humanity's sins would be cleansed once more. A new era of world peace would result in the conclusion of the Girls' campaign against crime and evil. The only useful thing the professor thought had come from the preacher's mouth was that he advocated total cooperation and conviction with the Girls as they continued their divine work of cleansing the city. It meant a few thousand less hateful citizens arrayed against the Girls, no matter what the future held, and potentially more if the Catholic cult did not wither away for one reason or another.

The rest of the mass was conducted similarly to a typical Catholic mass, except with the whole 'New Trinity' slant, with the Girls included into their prayers, whether they were prayed for or prayed to. For the latter, the Girls were even invited up on stage so that they might 'receive their prayers'.

When the prayers were over, the Girls were asked - with the professor's approval - to 'bless the congregation'. Men, women, and children would flock to them and form a queue. Some would bestow upon the Girls gifts - anything from food to thank-you cards, to trinkets and toys and even money (which the professor rejected). Some would merely ask to touch them or ask that they kiss their children and babies. Some would offer quick prayers. The Girls were thrilled, if guardedly so, as they expected politeness and appreciation at most, not literal worship and utter devotion. Blossom thought that it was a welcome reprieve from the harshness of crime fighting, Bubbles was blushing so hard she thought her cheeks might actually start a fire, while Buttercup just enjoyed the chocolate she was getting.


The City of Townsville. Townsville Industrial Park. Church of the New Trinity.

12 FEB (Sunday) 1989. 1255.

"It's not that I don't appreciate how you've been treating the Girls, George," Professor Utonium said as he sat in the guest chair before the bishop-turned-heretic's desk, which was located in what was once the warehouse foreman's office. He caught a glimpse of the man's self-styled title printed on a stand placed on the desk: Saint George Luther. "But don't you think you've gone too far? The Girls - they don't need to be worshiped. There's no telling what that would do to their prepubescent minds!"

"But the Angels of Justice are angels, sent down by God himself," George explained with infinite patience, leaning back calmly on his comfortable-looking boss chair, which was high-backed, and as white and expensive as the living saint looked in his white suit. "And even if their flesh is as weak and young as they look, surely being showered with love can't have any deleterious effects on their minds? Do you not agree?"

"With all due respect, 'saint'," the professor pressed on - he did not have infinite patience where once he thought he possessed it. "You don't understand a single thing about them! I can appreciate that you've taken a leap of faith when you left the Catholic church - but faith can only get you so far. The Girls - they're each suffering in their own way. Crime-fighting has taken a toll on them - I've heard your rhetoric, and you're going to add pressure to the Girls when there's no need-" By this, he was largely referring to Blossom and Bubbles, who each were succumbing to the pressure of fighting crime in their own ways. "-and you're encouraging certain behaviors that shouldn't be encouraged. Frankly, you're getting in the way of my parenting!" And by that, he was thinking of Buttercup, who certainly did not need religious backing for her violence.

"But they're the Angels of Justice - they can do no wrong," the saint said, too serene for the professor's own liking. So calm that the professor wanted to yell at him. Or even manhandle him. "And even if they appeared to have erred, it is likely to be part of a great plan. After all, even Jesus himself could be tempted. Even Jesus, when given the flesh of man, needed to grow up."

"The Girls are a product of science and technology, much of which even the brightest of the USDO are still struggling to understand!" the professor corrected the man, feeling his blood boil.

"And God has worked through their hands," the saint added reflectively. "I do pray that the Girls will be here next week… My congregation would be thrilled to have them again, and the church will always welcome them. I am not blind to the Girls' struggles, Father of Angels. It doesn't take much to imagine the trials and tribulations one must go through to face evil… Perhaps this church could be a sanctuary for them."

"Don't bet on it," the professor said as he rose from his seat. Looking around at the saint's office, he could see that it was finely decorated. The desk and the chairs were only a start. Then there were the marble statues, a fountain, pedestals with books - mostly religious text, as well as paintings and posters… It irked him that Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were in some of the paintings and posters, depicted as larger-than-life angels. "But I'll bet you must be pretty well off by now, 'saint'."

George Luther had been signing a few documents when he heard the title a second time. Sighing, he put his fountain pen down and paused for a second, as if tired - for once acting as old as he was.

"I didn't choose to be canonized as a saint - this is not 'my cult'," the religious figure said, his voice heavy, and even the professor had to admit that he could detect sincerity in it. "My flock wanted it - needed it. We're surrounded by unbelievers, some of whom will do us harm. You say that I do not understand the Girls and the science behind them, but heed me when I say that you don't understand the workings behind my faith, and the movement I started to tell the truth of it. All this - it's just to look good. Some people need to be drawn in before they would hear the truth."

Without a word, the professor turned around and walked away.

"Can I still convince you to bring the Girls here next week?" the cult leader asked, without raising his voice, without even a hint of a forceful assertion. He was humble, even. The professor stopped.

"No," he said without looking back.

"As you wish, Father of Angels," George said, surprisingly compliant. "It is your decision - and this must be part of God's plan. We will pray for you and your wife, and to your Holy Children."

"Whatever. If that's what you believe in," the professor said nonchalantly, and with that, left the saint's office.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

12 FEB (Sunday) 1989. 1442.

Ever since returning from a family lunch outside and after the encounter with the Catholic cult, the professor had been busy with his very own leap of faith. Carefully inserting a tube into a machine, he locked it in and tapped a few buttons on it. The tube contained a version of the Anti-X he manufactured, and he had decided to just move on from the theories and calculations to the practical tests, cutting short the development time of the Anti-X by a week or two.

It was a dangerous gamble, but it had to be done. Bubbles was barely hanging on, and even if she had found confidence with her new power - which he had yet to investigate - he felt that it was all but certain that something would emerge to destroy it again. Buttercup, on the other hand, did not need to be exposed to violence and crass adult behavior that would worsen her psychopathy and cause her to act on it. Even Blossom was feeling the effects of doing an adult's job hard - mainly, the pressure that came with deciding the life and death of family, friends, strangers, and enemies. The mistakes she made and the punishments he and his 'wife' was forced to mete out had likely changed her for life if her experience in crime-fighting hadn't already.

Despite the corners he was cutting, the Anti-X in its current form was by no means crude nor simple to make. Based on his Chemical X Unifying Theory, Chemical X was made more reactive to all other forms of matter by the use of bridging molecules bonding with Chemical X itself, which also had the effect of stabilizing the Chemical X such that the mutability of its molecular structure was better controlled and the molecular structure of the enigmatic substance had a greater degree of permanence. The use of chemicals code-named 'Sugar', 'Spice' and 'Everything-Nice' had achieved such an effect.

His ideas for Anti-X was focused on this property of stabilized Chemical X, and he had several just in case one or more of them would fail to achieve the intended effect or would even go on to cause some nasty side effects.

The most straightforward idea he had was to destroy the Chemical X itself. While indestructible even with a concentrated blast of gamma radiation or even a nuclear bomb, different kinds of Chemicals were known to destroy each other on contact. This was discovered by accident years ago when there was a mix-up on the part of a research assistant and the resultant cross-contamination between Chemicals U and V causing the partial destruction of both. The destruction itself, however, wasn't explosive - there was a discharge of an as-yet-unknown form of energy resembling light and electricity before an amount of mass would disappear. The mechanisms for this was still unknown, and as a reconstruction of the incident yielded no real data that could suggest practical applications for the effect beyond a curious light show, investigation into this was discontinued in the past.

It was only now that the professor thought that it was a grave error on his part.

While Professor Utonium had no idea if Chemical X could be destroyed using other Chemicals, he was confident that it might, based on his Unifying Theories - he knew that the chemical reactions could be extra-dimensional, not just within the known dimensions. The possibilities as to what could happen, thus, were limitless. However, he also knew what could stop it from happening - the stabilizing chemicals that anchor Chemical X to this dimension could be too strong for other Chemicals to overcome. Thus, his other ideas were born.

He had devised the necessary experimental set-up and processes required to synthesize the catalyzing agents and reactive compounds necessary to 'plug' the stabilizing agents, which also acted as bridging molecules necessary for Chemical X to react with mundane molecules. Once the bridging molecules were 'plugged', the Chemical X would be rendered inert - unable to form new reactions. In theory, this could disempower the Girls.

However, in case that fails, he also had plans to synthesize enzymatic compounds and accompanying catalysts to disconnect and destroy the bridging molecules instead, achieving the same effect, leaving the Chemical X dormant in the Girls. There was no telling what effect any of his methods would have on the Girls, however.

Which was why he couldn't cut any more corners. While he could just wing it with the theories and calculations in their third or fourth draft, to inject the Girls - any of them - with his Anti-X without previous testing was basically a gamble with their lives as chips on the table. As much as it pained him to do so, he would have to test the various Anti-X iterations exhaustively, starting with tests on cells, then plants and animals and finally, the Girls.

The machine the professor had inserted with the Anti-X had thin hoses running into the bell jars arranged on a table containing the Chemical-X-infused plants. He had been testing his Anti-X iterations on cells for long enough. He knew he had to move on to plants when all three of his devised Anti-X variants were successful in disempowering individual cells. Pressing a few buttons on the machine, the professor aerosolized the Anti-X, before dispersing them to a third of the plants. He'd repeated the test with all three Anti-X variants.

It was a long and slow process to discover if his various Anti-X solutions worked. Physical observations of the plants weren't enough. He had to obtain cell samples from all his plant subjects, dye them, put them under the microscope and finally use his supercomputer to analyze the concentration or status of the Chemical X in the cells. All the while, he'd held much hope and anticipation in his heart, and when all three Anti-X alternatives failed in their intended purpose so early in their developmental phases, he'd lost it. The perceived failure, in his state of mind, meant more suffering for his beloved Girls - unable to swallow it, he'd taken it out on his desk, sweeping its contents to the floor and kicking the bottom drawer multiple times even if it hurt his foot, until it gave way, until all three drawers on that stack tumbled to the ground in a domino effect.

That was when another idea struck him, and this time, he was much more confident it would work.

But even a successful Anti-X wasn't enough to free the Girls. There was still the matter of creating a replacement for them, a replacement or replacements, approved by the USDO, who would ensure that his treasured little girls would never have to lift a finger to defend people many times their age again.