Reply to Guest: The Girls' eyes did seem a little unnatural in the original source, especially Blossom's. That's what gave me that idea. Just their eyes alone lend them a lot of characterization, hence I decided to accentuate them in this universe. As for the hair color changing, I think I'll pass lol.


Chapter 41: Favors

The City of Townsville. Esperanza Acres. Morbucks Family Mansion.

17 FEB (Friday) 1989. 2359.

Bubbles could not sleep, not with the jitters she had been getting. It was worse than what Dad had called 'Chemical X fatigue', worse by a mile. And it hadn't stopped for hours, even though the feeling would pass once in a while throughout the day. She'd tried to get rid of it and the suspicions that Blossom and the Princess were no doubt harboring by taking a long bath just before bedtime, but it had only succeeded as a placebo for less than an hour.

She couldn't help but blame the fairy godmother - she was supposed to look out for her - she was supposed to give her more of her magic after she'd done what she asked, but she'd received none of it last night, not for the entire day!

Sitting up, Bubbles sighed and looked around the room. She was sleeping right beside Princess, who was still holding her hand even while she was fast asleep. Blossom was opposite her. Looking at Blossom, she couldn't help but blame her for the predicament she'd found herself in, being forced to do wrong by taking drugs in order to fulfill her demand for a sister who could fight crime alongside her. Her eyes glowed hellish red the moment she thought about it - about all the things Blossom had done to her when she couldn't live up to her expectations.

So much so that she had wrapped her hands around her neck, so much so that she was fantasizing about strangling her there and then while she slept.

But then there was light coming from the window. Bubbles' eyes returned to blue, as she was distracted by the light, which she had seen several times before. It was white, and it'd come out of nowhere. Like Pavlov's dog, her mouth had gone wet as she knew what it meant. The fairy godmother had come to visit.

Flying to the window, she looked down into the gardens below Elodie's room - her room being on the third floor - and saw the fairy godmother standing there. Bubbles would have whooped with joy had she been alone. Hungrily - thirstily - she opened the window and flew down to the garden, touching down an arm's length from her benefactor.

"Hello, Bubbles," the fairy godmother greeted the twitching Bubbles, who looked as unstable as she was inside.

"I've done as you asked - please... please give it to me," Bubbles begged, coming closer to the fairy godmother.

"But why do you need it, Bubbles?" the fairy godmother asked, and Bubbles could not believe she would ask such a question. It was as if the fairy godmother was playing dumb, or jesting. One would think that a fairy godmother would know the answer to such a question.

"I don't feel good… Please…" Bubbles answered the question despite - it didn't matter what she had to do - she just had to get her next syringe of His Secret 2.0. "I need to feel good…"

The fairy godmother simply smiled when she heard Bubbles' answer.

"But isn't your reason for using my magic to help your sisters? To help people?" the fairy godmother said.

"Yes… yes… that too… please," Bubbles played along for her next fix. She tugged at the fairy godmother's skirt, like a hungry little girl, or a kid who needed to answer nature's call. "I need it - please."

"Why of course, darling," the fairy godmother said and reached into her dark blue waist bag. Bubbles' heart leaped and her breathing seized up when she did. She couldn't wait to get another hit, couldn't wait to see the gigantic bounty that she had worked hard for - the gigantic bounty she had rightfully earned-

Only for it all to fall flat when the fairy godmother pulled out only a couple of syringes. Bubbles was devastated by the underwhelming number of the drugs that she had frozen up entirely, and she had only moved to cradle the leather pouches containing her drugs when the fairy godmother pushed them unto her. It'd felt so bad that Bubbles had fallen to her knees, knowing that she had been given only just enough to have to choose between suffering from hours of withdrawal effects in order to get high during combat or to avoid the pain but miss out on the pure pleasure and combat performance injecting both of them at once could provide.

"Oh, don't you worry about that, little girl," the fairy godmother reassured the addicted little girl when she noticed her expression. She reached into her bag again and pulled out a third syringe, this one naked and larger and without a needle. "I've brought you your supper too, so you may sleep easily tonight."

The fairy godmother stuck the needle-less syringe close to Bubbles' face. She could see the dull red liquid inside. The size of the syringe looked like it could give her more than a syringe's worth, but less than the two doses needed for her to reach a peak.

Bubbles was about to drink from it when the fairy godmother pulled it back again.

"There is… one favor I need you to do for me, however… yes… yes…" the fairy godmother said. Bubbles looked up at her expectantly, pleading with her teary eyes.

"I'll do anything for you," Bubbles said. "Please give it to me…"

"Good… good… I knew I could always count on you," the fairy godmother praised the little addict. "It's only nice that you help me with one little thing or another, after everything I've done for you."

"What do I have to do?" Bubbles asked.

"Simple really. You'll just have to kill Blossom," the fairy godmother said curtly and frankly.

Despite the gnawing, dull ache throughout her entire body, Bubbles could still be taken aback by the fairy godmother's request. Blossom was her sister - even if she had abused her before. They were close, and they were still close. To kill her for more of the fairy godmother's magic wasn't preferable.

"But…" Bubbles shook her head as she cried because of the predicament she'd been put in. "She's my sister."

"Bubbles, I'm doing this for you," the fairy godmother claimed. "Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?"

"She's my sister…" Bubbles wept. "Please don't make me…"

"Bubbles, hey…" the fairy godmother bent down to meet her gaze and stroke her chin. "I'm doing this for you. Blossom is not a good sister to you. She'd hurt you badly, I know. That is not what a sister should do. Remember what she did to you?"

"She… she tried to leave me behind. She would hit me and make me cry…" Bubbles recalled all the terrible memories - she was kind of forced to.

"Yes… yes… And she will do it again, I just know it. People don't change. Your sister is selfish – you know that, right? She's fighting crime just to feel good about herself… yes… yes… She cares nothing for you and Buttercup," the fairy godmother said. "Kill her, Bubbles, and I will continue to bless you."

Bubbles hesitated at first. To kill criminals and let some go because they were friends of the fairy godmother, she could accept… at a stretch. But to kill her own sister? But the fairy godmother's argument was compelling. In fighting crime, it wasn't inconceivable that some criminals might have to die for what they had done, and even then, many of them would be injured whenever she confronted them. Would killing Blossom be any different? What Blossom had done to her was criminal and the way she was using her and Buttercup to stroke her own ego was self-centered. But her past abuses stood out the most. Dad had mentioned things like that. 'Domestic violence', he'd called it. It wouldn't be nice and sweet, and it wouldn't be pretty, sure, but it had to be done.

It had to be done if she wanted more of the fairy godmother's magic. It had to be done.

"Yes. I'll do it. I'll kill Blossom for you," Bubbles finally agreed, and the fairy godmother pushed the large needle-less syringe closer to Bubbles' face. Bubbles opened her mouth, and the angel-like being stuck it into it before depressing the plunger and letting her drink the drug as she stroked the little girl's hair. Bubbles sucked on it, drinking the drug thirstily like a girl lost in a desert.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

18 FEB (Saturday) 1989. 0841.

When Buttercup woke up, alone in her room, it felt as if everything was different, and everything was new. It wasn't just her compromised senses - everything seemed duller now, and she couldn't hear as well, much less listen beyond the confines of her room. Even her sense of touch felt different. It was less rich.

Yesterday was like a bad dream. A nightmare. Losing her powers? Giving it up? Not in a million years! But when Buttercup tried to hover out of her bed, she realized that yesterday was no dream.

Sitting up, she felt sluggish too. She could feel her weight most severely, unlike the world around her, and it was making her feel lazy where previously, she would be ready to jump out of bed the moment she was awake. Even sitting up required effort now - had she not been hungry or thirsty, or in need to pee, she wouldn't even have tried.

She jumped out of bed, only to do so awkwardly and landing badly, falling to her knees. Even with the carpet cushioning her fall, it'd hurt like hell and high heaven.

It didn't take long to figure out that being normal was horrible. How could Dad even stand a day of being normal? How could anyone? It was hard to imagine that there were millions of people around her who would wake up normal every day and feel fine and even cheerful.

Even her mind felt dull. Her thoughts came slower, and memories had become a little more distant - requiring effort to recall. Walking up to the door, her balance shaken as though it was her first day walking, she went to the door and reached up for the doorknob. It was difficult to turn it such that she needed to use both her hands, and she grunted with the effort.

Almost immediately after she opened the door, swinging it sluggishly, she could hear footsteps - faintly - and being unable to hear things as clear as she wanted to scare her.

Dad had appeared before her before she was ready - with her mind no longer allowed to go over the speed limit and her powers gone, she found that she couldn't be ready for anything anymore, even something as every day as seeing her Dad.

Not that she was glad to see him. She had never forgiven her Dad and at this point, she didn't think she ever would. He had, after all, taken away her powers.

"Rise and shine, Buttercup," he greeted cheerfully with a smile on his face. With his hand on her shoulder, he began guiding her to the washroom. "Today's a brand new day."

She didn't like the sound of it, but she knew she couldn't and therefore shouldn't resist. When they were in the washroom, the professor took a stool and set it up next to the sink.

"What is that?" Buttercup asked, disgusted because she knew it was probably something she would need to use from now on.

"Don't you remember?" the professor said, sickeningly cheerful, still. "You used to use it when you didn't know how to fly. You'll need it from now on whenever you use the sink or the toilet yourself. But I'll be there if you need me."

Buttercup couldn't help but grimace at the stool. She hated it already. It was like the wheelchair she was forced to use on two occasions whenever she was too badly wounded or exhausted. The stool was little more than a crutch and she was disabled by her own father. The idea of having to clamber on top of the plastic eyesore was particularly painful especially considering the fact that she used to be able to fly across the city without too much difficulty - and now navigating the washroom had become a tiring chore.

Despite hating this, Buttercup let herself be picked up and placed on the stool. She proceeded to brush her teeth, grinding the bristles of her toothbrush harder than she should. She hated it that she wouldn't be able to release her pent-up frustrations and rage by hurting and killing criminals anymore, and even more that she could only take it out on small objects as it was pathetic compared to what she used to be able to do.

At breakfast, even climbing on top of the dining chair took all her strength.

"You'll get used to it," Dad said when he saw her pushing herself up to her seat while he was cooking. "Your body is just adjusting to the lack of Chemical X. You'll grow stronger after some time. You just won't be carrying the car anymore." The professor laughed and Buttercup hated it. It was like adding salt to her wound even if her Dad didn't intend to.

By the time the pancakes were ready, Buttercup was sulking. She didn't even look at the breakfast Dad had prepared, and neither did she acknowledge the smell of the well-made breakfast; the rich scrambled eggs, the sweet maple syrup…

And Dad sat down right next to her, setting down his own plate of pancakes. Lifting a carton of milk, he poured Buttercup a tall glass of milk. The raven-haired little girl turned the other way when he looked at her with that stupid smile on his face.

"You should start eating, Buttercup," the Dad said. "You wouldn't want it to get cold. I think we're getting enough of that from the outside."

Buttercup did not even move a muscle.

"Buttercup. Hey, Buttercup," Dad continued to pester her. She felt his massive hand on her shoulder when she continued to sulk. She couldn't help but shrink away from it. Size seemed to matter more now, especially to her subconscious. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Buttercup glared at him instead, finding satisfaction in going overboard with her Dad's request. But her glare used to scare people. She knew that it used to scare her Daddy too. She found it discouraging that even her eyes had been defanged, and it wasn't just because the scary green glow was gone.

"I know you're upset about losing your powers," the Dad continued to try to convince her, not that she was willing to listen, to begin with. "But what's been going on for the past few months wasn't the life a little girl is meant to live. Little girls aren't supposed to fight crime and decide who to hurt and save. Little girls aren't supposed to kill."

Buttercup did not reply, not with her mouth. She continued to glare at Dad, putting on the kind of look that would be more fitting on the face of an incarcerated prison convict.

"Don't you start giving me that look," the Dad warned Buttercup. "I'm doing what's best for you."

"But I don't want this!" Buttercup exclaimed, jumping on her seat, looking more like a kid throwing a fit than a bioweapon that could blow up and kill. "I wanna fight crime! Why does Bubbles get to fight crime even though she killed so many!? It's not fair!"

"You killed when you were in control - she killed by accident, Buttercup!" Dad lectured, though Buttercup was more right than he'd let on. To what extent was Buttercup truly in control of herself? Bubbles' BerXerker side effect had put her on par with Buttercup.

"I don't care!" Buttercup yelled and in her anger, had knocked her cup of milk off the table. Milk and glass shards flew everywhere while the milk made a puddle on the floor.

The professor sighed when it happened. Pushing his chair back and standing up, he went over to a corner of the kitchen and picked up a broom and dustpan.

"You'll get used to this," he repeated himself as he began sweeping. "Now eat or you'll go hungry."

Sensing the futility of her resistance, Buttercup grudgingly picked up her dining knife, which felt several times heavier than the M79 grenade launcher she wielded back in the day when she still had her powers and started cutting her pancake up roughly, accidentally dropping it several times because she was still getting used to manipulating objects with her weakened and clumsy hands. She imagined it to be her Daddy's face, or Blossom's face, or Bubbles' face, and she imagined that she was mutilating them. She ended up making messy pieces of it, some of which wouldn't be easy to pick up using a fork.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

18 FEB (Saturday) 1989. 0916.

Selicia looked into the rear-view mirror of her borrowed USDO unmarked SUV. Blossom had been trying to talk to Bubbles sporadically for the past twenty minutes or so, but Bubbles had been distant lately. She wouldn't even speak when she was spoken to, not even when her Mom was doing the talking, and neither would she acknowledge anyone.

She wouldn't even so much as look at anyone. Selicia had only just managed to make eye contact with Bubbles, and there was something wrong with her eyes. They were still pink and bloodshot as if she had never slept the previous night. As if she was diseased or something else.

"Are you okay, Bubbles?" Selicia asked, her eyes constantly flitting between the road and the rear-view mirror.

"I'm fine, Mom," Bubbles replied quickly to avoid suspicion.

"What happened to your eyes?" Selicia asked. Bubbles was shocked when she did and had to try hard not to gasp at her realization that her cover could be blown any second now. She had seen what had happened to her eyes when she was going through the motions of changing and brushing her teeth. She had put two and two together that it had something to do with the fairy godmother's magic.

"I'm… just tired, Mom. I couldn't sleep last night," Bubbles lied. She knew to do so because it wasn't the first time her eyes had become bloodshot. Previously, it had done so whenever they had to fight crime late into the night. It was the perfect lie, and Bubbles resented herself for it - but it must be done. It must be done so that she could get it done - so that she could bring justice by killing Blossom - so that she could get more of 'His Secret 2.0'.

In fact, she'd been thinking about how she could do it. She couldn't do it in Princess' room - because it meant that Elodie would know and she'd have to silence her as well. She didn't want to kill her BFF – it hadn't come to that yet. She couldn't do it in the car - she still wanted Mom to love her after all this. Where would she even put Blossom's body even if they could be alone in their room?

"You could lean on me if you want," Blossom offered Bubbles but she was ignored.

Bubbles turned away from Blossom, hating that she was being nice and offering her something that actually felt tempting.

"There's still time for you to sleep," Blossom insisted.

"No," Bubbles rejected. She knew she had to distance herself from Blossom. It would make things easier down the line.

When they reached The House, it seemed empty and quiet. Dad and Buttercup were nowhere to be found. Or at least, they were nowhere to be found in the living room.

"Girls, go to your room, there's something I need to do," Selicia said and without clarifying what she meant, she rushed off towards the airlock leading to the labs, looking worried to Blossom and Bubbles, looking like she was about to break into tears.

"Come on, Bubbles, let's go put our stuff," Blossom said as she floated towards the stairs leading up, lugging along a sling bag effortlessly. Bubbles merely grunted, her eyes drilling into Blossom's back. Had she had Blossom's heat beam or Buttercup's laser beam, she would have been tempted to make that literal.

Selicia had dropped her own duffel bag in the airlock as it was cycling. When the lab-side door opened, she bolted out of the chamber and down the stairs, a million dreadful scenarios crowding her mind.

She knew what the professor was going to do. She knew that there were risks, but she'd trusted her other half to mitigate it. Now, she was afraid that the cosmos had long been prepared to deal her another blow and make sure her happiness wouldn't last.

Sprinting down the steps, she emerged into the labs, and when she found nothing in the main hall, she ran to the corner with the Chemical X storeroom and Duranium table – only to find nothing again.

Turning around, she flew back up the stairs, shouting Buttercup and Thomas' name as if it was the last day she'd do it.

The airlock cycled once more. Even though her legs burned from the effort, Selicia forced herself to keep on going, as if chased by the psionic terror that was Blisstina herself, taking two, three steps at a time up the stairs to the second floor, then flying across the corridor until she found herself panting outside the Girls' room to find…

Her love, Thomas Upton, bending down next to Buttercup, the both of them fine and breathing, fit as a fiddle. Buttercup was sitting behind the Girls' pink round table. Blossom and Bubbles were holding her hands, though Bubbles didn't seem worried like the others. There was more of a blank look on her face.

Buttercup didn't look right the moment Selicia laid eyes on her. The amazing green glow in her eyes was gone, she looked a little pale and sickly to her and where the tomboy used to be brimming with evergreen energy, she now looked anemic, like a cancer patient who would be right at home next to the Princess in a hospital ward.

"You should be happy, Buttercup," Bubbles comforted her sister, in one of her increasingly non-existent moments of clarity. "At least you're normal now."

Bubbles had wished that she was a normal little girl for a long time. Even now, she wished that she was a normal little girl so she wouldn't have to kill Blossom.

"Don't… want… normal," Buttercup had forcibly uttered through her sobs. She looked utterly wretched, and it'd shaken Bubbles out of her own problems. She rested a hand on Buttercup's shoulder, but the latter girl slapped it away as she was bawling her eyes out.

"You won't have to fight crime anymore," Blossom added, and meant it, though one side of her was glad that she was out of the game. It meant that she could no longer kill. "And you get to play all day. We can always play together once we're like you. Dad said we're going to be like you soon - normal."

Buttercup looked up at Blossom, glaring at her, though the anger in her eyes was clouded by tears and sadness. She still hadn't forgotten what Dad had said last night, despite her poorer ability to recall things. It was all Blossom's fault - she'd tattled on her and caused Dad to forcibly remove her powers.

"You see, Buttercup? It's not bad at all – as long as you have a family, you don't need your powers," the professor said after that, though Buttercup looked far from convinced.

Selicia had never seen Buttercup that way before. She was crying and the redness of her face informed her that she had been doing it for a while.

"But I wanna fight crime…" Buttercup managed to complete her sentence miraculously. She was going to say something more - how she hated this, how she hated them all now, but she bit her lips and erred on the side of caution. She couldn't help but be more cautious, and overly so. She was vulnerable now, and she could feel every bit of it, right down to the weakened sinews of her muscles and her bones, which was held together less strongly by the thinner Chemical X in her body.

"Buttercup?" Selicia called out to her favorite.

"Mom!" Buttercup screamed as she ran up to her favorite parental figure. In her sisters' eyes, she was unbelievably slow, taking seconds to reach her where they would have taken a fraction of that at their slowest Dad-approved indoor speeds.

She'd gone up to her all tearful and vulnerable, and Selicia bent down to scoop her up. Even the way Buttercup felt was wrong – she was all clammy and hot – even feverishly so – from crying where she used to come out cool even after running through a burning building. She was shivering and soft – whether from the cold or fear, it didn't matter. The Buttercup she knew was firm and all muscles, like the hunks she used to hug.

Selicia glared at the professor. She didn't like the results, and she didn't like how he had completely ignored her wish to LEAVE SHIT BE.