Chapter 34: In the Shadows (Part 1)

The City of Townsville. Pokey Oaks. Pokey Oaks Kindergarten.

15 FEB (Wednesday) 1989. 1223.

Blossom thought that the easy nature of their operation of the day – which involved taking down just eight normal human beings with normal guns – meant that things were going to go back to how it used to be: peaceful, and fun, and filled with learning.

Little did she know that it was the beginning of something different. And worse. Almost as soon as the Girls had touched down back in school and returned to their classroom, with Blossom hoping that she could salvage perhaps half an hour of learning out of the school day, the USDO hotline had rung again. It was right after they had gotten changed too, and so they had to jump back into their gear and fly out.

It wouldn't be the last operation either. The second call had been about a badly-planned bank robbery gone wrong, perpetrated by Lombardi outcasts, alienated and sent on their suicide mission probably for their ineptitude. The third call came in during a late lunch, and they had to go in with their riot gear because it was about dozens of men literally committing random acts of violence – beating random pedestrians on the streets with steel rods and flipping cars and setting fire to some dumpsters and then some – before holing up in an old apartment. They weren't fighters, and so after the Girls took down seven of them with tear gas, flashbangs, and sticks, they surrendered, much to Bubbles' frustration as Blossom had pulled her back the moment she did. It was hard keeping it all in.

When the Girls thought that the third call had to be the last one of the day, a fourth one came in while they were in the middle of dinner. And it was a good dinner too, one that Dad and Mom whipped up in an attempt to make them feel better. While Bubbles was smiling at a fourth chance for something big so she could use her magic and do what the fairy godmother wanted her to do, Buttercup was apathetic while Blossom was plainly upset. Things at the dinner table were going well too, as she was able to strike up a conversation with Dad and Mom about what they would all do when they were free of law enforcement duties.

That she had to toss herself back into the fire after dreaming through half her plate of mutton and broccoli was upsetting her. All too soon, the Girls flew out of the circular windows of their room and into the dark sky. Night had fallen.


The City of Townsville. Outskirts. En route to Gladys' Stables (Defunct)

15 FEB (Wednesday) 1989. 1944.

'Hi, it's Blossom. You're not Mister Blake, are you?' Blossom remembered the latest conversation on the USDO hotline as she flew towards the heart signal. With the dark taking over Townsville, it was plain to see in the sky.

'Sorry to disappoint, girlie,' it was Detective Mullens on the phone. 'It's just little ol' me, Garrett Mullens. Listen, I heard from the boss that you gals were called in a gazillion times today, but I really need your help on this one.'

'What is it, Mister Mullens?' Blossom had tried to sound confident and alert and strong, but her voice was raspy and shaky - something that shouldn't have happened until just before bedtime.

'Remember Detective Jack Wednesday?' Detective Mullens had said on the line. Blossom remembered that her heart had sunk when she heard the younger detective's name. The first day she met him, disaster struck. And since she was responsible for part of it, she felt shame upon hearing Jack's name.

'We're not going to The Strip again, are we?' Blossom mumbled, afraid that that would be the case. She actually believed that that was the case. There was never a time when she was tempted to reject the chance to fight crime until then.

'Oh no, don't you worry about that - he's been on the hunt, see, and he managed to trace some of the children we couldn't save before,' Mullens had said. He was trying to sound hopeful, and positive. But it had only brought back bad memories, still fresh, in Blossom. Hundreds of children were lost that day. She had lost herself that day too, and Bubbles had lost something of herself because of her. She remembered Dad's lesson. She had driven the proverbial nails into Bubbles and pulling them out wasn't going to fix the holes. Not entirely.

'He saw them getting hauled into an old stable near the edge of the city. Six or seven of them,' Mister Mullens had said.

'Who are we fighting?' Blossom asked, her insides turning to ice even though her room was well heated.

'Cultists,' Mullens had said. Blossom couldn't breathe after that. Bubbles had lost control the last time they'd fought them. They were powerful enough to encourage her all the way, unlike the thugs they had been putting down throughout the city. A police officer they were speaking to after the 'riot' they put down had said that they had no idea who was behind the huge spike in crime in Townsville, but they were easy to defeat nonetheless - they were just bothersome and tiring to deal with. By the end of the third call, it was as if they had just been through another round with the Purple Man. 'You now know why we need you now? After what they pulled the last time, I guess we needed the insurance. There will be kids in the line of fire too, so I thought they'll respond to the three of you best.'

Blossom took it to mean that the children in the stables would easily befriend and listen to her sisters and her. She had her doubts – normal children were different from her, and Bubbles and Buttercup were far worse with what they were up to lately. Those thoughts had occupied her mind all the way to Mister Mullens, out in the cold, dark border of Townsville. That, along with the ever-present gnawing fear that something was going to go wrong.

When the Girls had reached the SWAT van shining the heart signal into the dark sky above, the Girls couldn't help but get a sense of déjà vu. Although they were many miles away from the farm where the Cult of His Arm was headquartered, the feeling was the same, if not worse.

They weren't just surrounded by dead trees that looked like the twisted bodies or faces of the dead, and the emptiness of snow. They were engulfed by darkness and the terrifying possibilities of what could happen in the deep, dark void.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Detective Mullens greeted them the moment they touched down. It was dark, and shadows had covered most of his features. Even though he was a family friend for months, he still looked intimidating that way. Beside him was his daughter, Olivia, and Stanley Talker. Detective Jack Wednesday stood apart from them, flanked by a pair of uniformed officers.

"I just wish it didn't have to be about fighting tonight," Blossom said in response. "There was too much of that today. Why can't people just be nice to each other?" In retrospect, she realized she sounded like Bubbles before the BerXerker power had grown to define her. It'd made her feel alone, even though she was surrounded by people she liked and loved.

Her sisters, in the meantime, were silent. Buttercup was staring at the snowy ground, completely demoralized by the lack of meaning and motivation in life. Bubbles' eyes, for once, didn't look like it could kill even without Blossom's heat beam. Instead, it was darting around, sticking to everything but anyone else's eyes. She was sweating even though they were out in the cold. Blossom had put it down to nervousness.

"If we get this out of the way, you can bet that people will be nicer to each other," Detective Jack Wednesday said from the side. "We should get moving. They've probably seen our little bat signal." He started walking, and so Mullens and his daughter followed. The talking dog too. The Girls were pulled along.

"I doubt they'll be running away anytime soon," Olivia added. "I've been doing my homework. These weirdos care nothing about themselves. Ritual suicides and past police arrests told the same stories over and over."

"Will they give up this time?" Blossom asked, hoping for a positive answer - she really could go for some early bedtime.

"No," Detective Mullens answered dryly. All around them were car headlights coming from police cruisers, SWAT vans, and USDO unmarked vehicles. Barely illuminated SWAT cops and USDO soldiers were running forward all around them, like ghosts in the dark. No humvees or APCs this time though - it was meant to be a smaller-scaled operation, to be done quietly. Blossom could see that there were fewer good guys this time - perhaps half as many.

"We'll be raiding some old stables today," Detective Wednesday began briefing the Girls. "I tailed one of those child trafficking low-lives to it. They've been working with the cultists, selling them children for some reason I don't want to know but I'll have to find out. Forest rangers in the nearby woods reported screams coming from inside recently, children crying, and armed guards. I've sent my own men on a stakeout, and they reported about twenty of them."

"Do we go in on our own?" Bubbles asked, showing some initiative surprisingly, though it was only for her own selfish reasons. She wanted it to be dangerous, so she would have an excuse to use the fairy godmother's magic.

Then there was the mission her benefactor had tasked her to do. This was it - she knew it - because cultists were involved this time.

"God, no," Detective Wednesday said without pause. "We can't have that again. I don't want a repeat of The Strip. I need you Girls to go in from the front. My men will back you up from all sides. Me, Detective Mullens, Olivia and our talking dog here will sneak around the back."

"Well, someone's getting wise," Detective Mullens jabbed. The younger detective stopped, and so did everyone else. Even though the shadows were covering parts of Wednesday's face, she could tell that he wasn't exactly pleased with what Mullens said.

"That's easy for you to say!" Detective Jack Wednesday spat, jabbing a finger at the older detective. He continued doing so. "At least I didn't spend an entire lifetime lying down and eating shit while the city rotted from the inside-out!"

"Jack, stop-" Olivia shouted from the side. Stanley Talker growled, unsettled by the unexpected hostility between members of his pack.

"Don't think I don't know about your past, Garrett!" Detective Wednesday pressed on, so mad he couldn't just stop. "The mess you made when you went undercover? The people you got killed throughout your 'illustrious' career? Cheated on your late wife too with a bimbo on the other side too, did you?"

"Sir, please! There are kids with us!" Olivia pleaded with Jack, but she was ignored. The Girls merely stared, afraid to intervene in the adults' affair.

"You need to watch your mouth, son," Detective Mullens said, his gravelly tone gaining a furious edge, though it wasn't in an instant. "Don't force me to teach you a lesson in front of the Girls."

"Yeah, took you long enough to reach the rank required to do that, huh?" Detective Wednesday continued to taunt his older colleague over the perceived slight. "How does it feel like to hold the same rank as someone half your age? There's a fucking good reason for that and you can blame the corrupted system all you want! We all know why."

"Sir! The kids!" Olivia reminded the detective urgently. She glanced over at the Girls, who looked appropriately shocked at the language being hurled around. Detective Mullens, in the meantime, had fallen silent, lethally so.

"Yeah, you keep chasing your tiny-ass breadcrumbs and the idiotic pipe dream of putting the Amoeba Boys behind bars," Detective Wednesday kept on going. "It's people like me who're serving the public and protecting the innocents. Tell me, Mullens, how many have you saved in the past, I don't know, three months?"

Detective Mullens was still silent from this. His hands were in his pockets. He stared into the distance. Blossom could feel her eyes going wet. She hated it when friends argue. Looking away, she could only hope that they sort out their differences quickly.

"He was nice to me…" Bubbles mumbled in an attempt to speak up for him. Detective Wednesday looked in her direction, his expression changing from that of anger to some kind of sadness. It was hard to tell from the shadows. "He kinda saved me…"

She remembered how Mister Mullens had found her alone in The Strip when Blossom had abandoned her, how he covered her up with his own trench coat even though it was winter. How he defended her and brought her home personally, even though it took more time - his time - to do so than if she would fly home herself. She hadn't said it yet, but he was grateful for his company even though he was driving and she was in the backseat - how grateful she was that he'd done it.

"I, urm…" Detective Wednesday was at a loss for words. He knew that he had been responsible for Bubbles' ordeal. That very same night he left The Strip, he had been drinking heavily over it - well, it had something to do with the fact, too, that he had failed to rescue three hundred children from child prostitution and slavery, and managed to miss arresting key members of Townsville's most prolific child trafficking ring even though he had vast resources at his command to make it happen. Unable to spare a word for Bubbles or anyone else, he continued walking, caring little if anyone was following. "Let's just go. We're wasting time."

Asked the group walked on, Bubbles was concerned for Mister Mullens. The things Mister Wednesday had said was upsetting, even Bubbles knew that. At the very least, it had distracted Bubbles from her addiction; coming up next to Mullens, she took his hand as they continued on their way to deployment.

"Thanks, kid, but you didn't have to," Mister Mullens said. Bubbles didn't know how or why she thought so, but he sounded a little like a wounded beast. Like a bear who'd stepped on a trap.

"But I want to," Bubbles said. She understood Mullens very well - she had been accused, and rightly so too, of failing in many ways so many times. In fact, she knew, right then, that she was failing in another way, and she didn't have the willpower to correct it.

"You're an angel, you know that? That's something that will never change," Mister Mullens said.

An angel. Bubbles knew better, for things had already changed without him knowing it.


The City of Townsville. Outskirts. Gladys' Stables (Defunct)

15 FEB (Wednesday) 1989. 2009.

"Buttercup, Bubbles," Blossom said to her sisters as they floated their way up to the main entrance of the stables' manor, into the porch. "We'll go in close together this time."

Although she had seen nothing beyond the door and walls of the manor using her X-ray vision, it was too dark for her to see anything beyond a few feet past the door. One could never be too careful.

"Why?" Bubbles asked, even though she knew very well why.

"It's safer that way," Blossom said, though she wasn't really lying.

"This is Detective Wednesday to Blossom," the younger detective whispered through the radio. "We're ready to breach the building."

"Buttercup, Bubbles, you two knock down the doors when I tell you to," Blossom ordered, referring to the grand entrance of the manor. "I'll shoot."

Blossom shouldered her MP5 and charged up her eyes, getting ready to blast any cultists on the other side of the doors either way. Bubbles' hands were shaking - she really needed her fix and she felt that the time for it was close, so close she was shaking with anticipation.

"Now!" Blossom shouted, and her sisters kicked down the doors cleanly off their hinges. Looking in, they saw that the hall of the manor was as dark as the windows let on. Contrary to expectations, they weren't buffeted by a hailstorm of bullets the moment they came in.

The Girls' eyes went immediately to lantern mode to make up for the darkness. Floating in, guns live, the illusion of peace was quickly broken when a woman who had been hiding behind an old, non-working grandfather clock jumped out and charged them with a machete, screeching like some vampire creature with glowing red eyes. Blossom fired a couple of her heat beams at her, flooring her. Dust fell from the roof. Buttercup looked up, bringing her eye-light to bear on the second floor to find a couple of cultists spying on them from above, wielding bolt-action rifles. She quickly swept her laser eye beam across the banister they were leaning on, causing them and their cover to fall from above to the ground floor.

Bubbles then caught sight of a man in red robes descending the stairs, and promptly put a poorly-aimed shot in his leg, which caused him to tumble down. It was only by virtue of the fact that he wasn't far that she'd even hit anything – her hands were shaking from the lack of a certain drug to make her feel better.

It was silent again after that. Blossom had been sweeping the perimeter with her x-ray vision in the meantime. There was no ambush waiting in the adjacent rooms, as far as she could tell in the darkness. SWAT officers filed in through the entrance they opened, cuffing the cultists, all of whom were still alive if wounded in a multitude of ways.

Things were going well so far. But there were too few of them when there should be at least twenty.

"Blossom," one of the SWAT officers called out to the leader of The Three as he was handcuffing the cultic lady she had knocked out. "Work your way to the stables. Sweep as you go. Your job here is done."

A few gunshots ringing out in the house punctuated the SWAT cop's orders. Blossom started looking through walls, searching for the source of the sound as she guided her sisters towards an exit that would take them close to the stables on the manor's grounds.

The shots had originated from the detectives' group. There was a series of barks afters that, followed by the loud sound of scuffling and dog-on-man violence. Blossom could see it all through the walls; Rays from torchlight illuminating fallen bodies. Buttercup could hear it clearly as if it was all happening in the same room as her, but she didn't care. Blossom could only wish that she could see her friends again, but she knew she had to follow the plan.

"Come on, Girls, let's go save our friends," Blossom said, and by friends, she meant children - because by her innocent worldview, all children were friends of each other. The opposite was but a few exceptions. Flying up to the second floor with her sisters catching up quickly, Blossom opened a door and flew through a bedroom and its window. Buttercup was so clumsy that she partially broke the window even though it was open. Bubbles completed the destruction by flying slightly higher, completely taking the window off its frame.

Flying across a field that was probably for horses to canter around, Blossom flew towards one of the stables, and together with Bubbles and Buttercup, knocked down a massive door leading into the stables meant for horses to gallop through with their riders. There were dim lights in stable number one, which meant someone was there.

And they were right. Several cultists were walking up and down the rows of horse stalls. Blossom shot infrared beams on one the moment she noticed them. However, the moment she did, many more burst out of the stalls, firing their weapons at them. Two cultists who were closer had thrown their handheld weapons at them, one of which was some kind of a sickle, at Blossom while another a knife at Bubbles.

They didn't have time to see what sort of weapons they were. Blossom and Bubbles had found out too late, however, that they were Duranium.

The sickle had missed Blossom almost entirely - except it had nicked her in the arm. Bubbles wasn't so lucky, as the throwing knife aimed at her had struck home, burying itself in her shoulder.

Both Girls had each flown into their own stalls for cover, and they had each discovered that the stables weren't used to hold horses. In fact, Blossom had expected horses, only to be disappointed in the split second she had before the bad guys appeared - Dad had yet to take them to a stable to see the horses and ponies.

The stalls contained children instead. A boy, black and eight years old - very afraid with a leg chained to the wall - was staring at Blossom when she crashed through the doors and into his stall. Bubbles was met by a six-year-old Caucasian girl who was also chained by a leg to the wall. She didn't even care that she was there because she knew that it was time…

Time to do as the fairy godmother had asked, but most importantly, to use her magic. She didn't even care that a Duranium knife was sticking out of her shoulder. Wincing in pain and ignoring the pleas of the child for help, Bubbles pulled out a syringe and quickly injected herself with drugs, before repeating the action and going for a double dose. As Buttercup dove into action, ignoring bullets and pain and punching out bad guys, Bubbles finally got what she wanted as she moaned and clutched herself in pure pleasure while the little girl chained to the wall watched in horror.

"Stay here - we'll beat the bad guys first then come get you," Blossom instructed the boy in her stall as she crouched low in it. Pain shot up in her arm. Clutching it and yelping, she realized that it was bleeding there - the wound wasn't just skin-deep. However, it could have been worse. Hovering up, she surveyed the stables to find that Buttercup was alone in her fight against the cultists, but doing admirably well - she'd just thrown a cultist through a wall. He wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. Looking to her right, she saw that Bubbles had yet to leave her stall, but she didn't have time to check on her. Buttercup needed help.

"Betrayers!" a feral-looking cultic axeman with a pair of hatchets screamed as he rushed Buttercup while she was pushing away a few others who had rushed her with other deadly-looking implements en masse. Blossom flew over at high speeds to slug him, throwing him off his feet.

"Betrayers!" the group Buttercup had pushed back echoed. "He will be displeased!"

Buttercup glanced dismissively at Blossom.

"Why do you even care?" she said.

"Because I do," Blossom replied. The cultists, with more coming to reinforce them, started rushing them again. The axeman was getting up. Their eyes were all red. To the Girls, it meant things were going to get difficult.

"Join us before it's too late!" another cultist warned the Girls even as he charged them, pistol blazing.

Bubbles stood behind them, tilting her head as she observed what was going on, her mouth slightly ajar as she was still experiencing a tide of pleasure ebbing and flowing inside her. She reached for the throwing knife in her shoulder and pulled it out unflinchingly, casually. She held onto it because she thought it would be interesting to use.

Staring Blossom in her back, she gasped as the very thought of putting the knife in her back alone had resulted in a spurt of pleasure in her. Revenge was a form of pleasure, and the very thought of carrying it out, the temptation, was overwhelming. Besides, she knew that Blossom would try to stop her from doing what would please the fairy godmother and gain her even more of her magic.

Bubbles clutched the Duranium throwing knife, which was wet with her own blood, tightly. She could still remember Blossom's poorly chosen words and physical abuses clearly, even if her memories weren't as sharp as either of her sisters'. Detective Wednesday's mere presence had served as a reminder.

Yes, she would help the fairy godmother just as she had helped her.