Chapter 123: Deleterious

The following phone recording had been erased by an unknown party at The House. The existing copy had to be copied from a USDO listening post.

Phone Recording 03121989-2005-TH

DOC: 12 MAR (Sunday) 1989.

EXTRACTED: 20 MAR (Monday) 1989.

-TRANSCRIPT START-

Psychiatrist Alice: Come on, Thomas, pick up the phone!

Sergeant Selicia: Hello?

Alice: Selicia, get Thomas on the phone. Please.

Selicia: If it's anything about him or the Girls, you'll talk to me from now on.

Alice: Why? What happened to him?

Selicia: He's… busy at the moment. He can't be disturbed.

Alice: What is he doing?

Selicia: Lab work, or something. Are we done here?

Alice: It's about the Girls' psychiatric consultation. Thomas hasn't given me a date for the next session. With Bunny's death, I think it's absolutely vital that I talk to the Girls.

Selicia: Oh, Alice, Alice…

Alice: Selicia? Stop fooling around!

Selicia: You know, you're not that important, Alice. Has it ever occurred to you that my sweetheart wants nothing to do with you anymore?

Alice: I seriously doubt that-

Selicia: ARE YOU THICK!? We've just lost a member of the family, a baby girl, and you think you can just barge into our home and tell us what to think and how to feel!?

Alice: It's not that I-

Selicia: My Tommy doesn't need you. I don't need you. Buttercup, Bubbles, and Blossom – who are my sweet little babies by the way, not yours - they don't need you. What we need is some space, and you're not helping.

Alice: Now wait just a second-

Selicia: I think we're done here. I don't ever want to see you anywhere near my house again. Goodbye.

Alice: Wait-

Selicia: (hangs up)

(Four minutes later)

Phone bot: This line is currently engaged. Please record your message after the tone *BEEP*

Alice: Professor Utonium, this is Alice. I don't know if you know, but Selicia's been trying to separate me from the kids. I don't know if that's what you want - I highly doubt it. I hope you understand the urgency of the situation. This cannot be allowed to happen. The Girls - they need to process the death of their youngest sister right. I've read your reports on the Girls' mental and emotional development, and how accelerated they are. If we're not there for Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, it might be bad further down the road. I'm willing to be there any time, any day. Just- just call me. If nothing else, I want to be there for the kids. They need all the reassurance they can get.

-TRANSCRIPT END-


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

13 MAR (Monday) 1989. 1535.

The day had crawled by at a snail's pace, and it was about as exciting as watching paint dry, not that Blossom and Bubbles wanted to enjoy themselves. It didn't feel right since Bunny would never be able to do so again.

With Professor Utonium stuck in the basement laboratory, working on a cure that would never save its singular patient, Selicia found herself in charge of the Girls all by her lonesome.

It was then that she realized that she didn't want to be a mother to three kids, and the only reason she cared at all was the professor, and so she put her nose to the grindstone, keeping the cogs of the family moving.

The Girls had woken up without an appetite, so she reasoned that anything more than something basic for breakfast would be a wasted effort. She ended up making some tasteless gruel. Predictably, the Girls ate little and returned to their room lifelessly after that.

Calling Miss Keane, Selicia had the Girls excused from school for a week, citing the death of Bunny as the reason, so that the family would have time to mourn their loss. What Selicia didn't say was that it was convenient for her, since she didn't want to drive the Girls to and from school on her own. The Girls had all but lost their charm, even Buttercup, who had become totally withdrawn since a week ago. As if Bunny dying wasn't enough, they had become a bunch of downers. Weren't children supposed to be more optimistic than that?

After failing, again, to get the professor to come out of his subterranean hiding spot, Selicia had to eat with the Girls alone… again. She'd ordered pizza… again, this time with extra cheese and pepperoni; she didn't want a repeat of the day before. She absolutely HATED it when the Girls whine and groan and moan, and it wasn't that she didn't know that hitting them was wrong. It was something she couldn't control, like a button that, when pushed, she would just go off the rails, and the Girls, particularly Blossom, had become good at pushing it without knowing it. She even enjoyed it, hitting them or hurling verbal abuses at them. It was almost cathartic, even if it was wrong.

So, after lunch, Selicia left the Girls to their own devices in their room and scooted off to the kitchen, bringing out a six-pack, which she laid on the living room coffee table. She switched on the television, flipping channels only to be reminded of Bunny's death as she went past the news channels.

Yeah, she needed her six-pack.

She needed it badly, but before she could really enjoy her alcohol, Blossom had snuck up to her, taking her hand and pulling it, pleading for attention.

"What the hell do you want?" Selicia said and pulled her hand out of Blossom's grip, which had grown firm as the enhanced little girl was recovering from her Anti-X poisoning and regaining her strength.

"I'm really worried about Dad," Blossom said. Without even looking at her, Selicia took another sip of her beer.

"Join the club, Bloss," Selicia remarked, her eyes focused on the television rather than her.

"Mom… Why isn't he coming up to see us anymore?" Blossom asked a question which immediately elicited a sigh from Selicia.

"You're not the only one missing Bunny, you know," Selicia said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Stop being so self-centered."

"But I'm worried about Dad," Blossom repeated, cringing from what Selicia said as if her words could hurt; it'd truly stung Blossom. Ever since meeting Mom, Blossom had always looked up to her. She cooked the best meals, baked the best cookies, and read stories well. She knew everything about looking beautiful and telling good fashion from the bad, all while (from what Blossom understood) working for the same organization as General Blackwater, that same organization that seemed to be fighting crime 24/7. Selicia's verbal and physical abuse had only sent the message that she was inadequate, and though it was slowly withering away Blossom's love for her, there was still a connection there.

"You know what?" Selicia said dismissively. "Why don't you go down there and see for yourself what you've done to him?"

And so Blossom did. Trotting over to the airlock, she opened it up with difficulty and waited for it to cycle before taking the elevator down - without her ability to hover and fly, going down the stairs was too much of a hassle.

As the elevator descended, Blossom could only imagine what she would find down below. She couldn't recall seeing Dad coming up at all, not since Bunny's funeral. What's happened to him? How could he even survive two days of being locked down in the labs?

The doors of the elevator opened before Blossom could think things through and mentally prepare herself to reunite with her Dad.

It didn't take long for her to witness for herself what had happened to her Dad. Walking past some tables and counters for scientific work, she spotted her Dad next to his desk. He was still wearing the same clothes since Bunny's funeral, though he had taken off his jacket and left it hanging on his chair.

He was scribbling some calculations on a blackboard with chalk… and he didn't just have one blackboard anymore. He had linked up three large blackboards and was more than halfway from filling the last one up with his notes.

Blossom found it discomforting. Frightening. Timidly, she began approaching her Dad. She could only see his back. His white shirt was discolored and wet with sweat. There were stains under his armpits.

When she got closer, she could hear Dad mumbling dryly, in a broken and raspy voice, some language she wasn't sure was even English. Unknown to her, she was listening to the professor uttering scientific terms, but it might as well be an alien language from her perspective.

"Dad?" Blossom called out to him while she was peeking out of a corner of the table behind him. It was the very same table on which Bunny was prepared for her funeral. The scratching of chalk on blackboard stopped. The professor turned around.

"B-Bunny?" he said, much to Blossom's dismay. "Are you back?" he started looking around frantically, only to be disappointed that he couldn't find Bunny.

"Blossom, was that Bunny calling out to me?" he asked the moment he saw Blossom by his table, which made her felt even worse. "Where is she?"

"It's just me, Dad," Blossom said as she finally looked up at him, and he was a horrible sight to behold. Bloodshot pink eyes on top of black eyebags like boats. Sunken cheeks. Unkempt hair. He hadn't shaved, and his stubbles were beginning to show, like tiny, black worms crawling out of his skin. Underneath that were lips that were cracked and flaky. The salty, slimy stink was off-putting.

"What do you want, Blossom?" he asked curtly, leaning against the funeral table, swaying on his feet. He seemed weak.

"You don't look so good, Dad…" Blossom said instead, even though she very much wanted to say something significantly different. The way the professor looked concerned her deeply. She had never seen him this way before, not even in his darkest moments - though it seemed that Bunny's death had affected him far more deeply than anything else that came before.

"I'm fine as I am. At least I'm not dead. Dead, like Bunny," the professor lamented. He crumbled down on a chair by the table, leaning back as he closed his eyes. But he didn't rest for anything more than that moment. He straightened up again, opening his tired eyes as he shot up from his chair. "The cure! I- I can find a cure for Bunny!" He hurried back to his blackboard and picked up the chalk again as if Blossom was never there. But he looked back at Blossom, regarding her for a moment. "You- you'll have your sister back. I know it - I just know it!"

The way he was acting had scared Blossom to tears.

"Dad?" Blossom mewled like a hurt little puppy.

"What is it, Blossom? Can't you see I'm on the verge of a breakthrough!?" the professor yelled at her, before mumbling scientific nonsense to himself once more.

"You haven't come up since yesterday…" Blossom managed to blurt out in between tears.

"Of course! I need to save Bunny!" the professor shouted before having a dry coughing fit.

"Why won't you come up and stay with us?" Blossom pleaded with Dad.

"The cure, Blossom! The cure for Bunny!" the professor said deliriously.

"Dad?" Blossom called out to him once more. It'd frustrated the professor. Slamming the chalk down on the holder at the bottom of the blackboard, he turned around, furious.

"What!?" he yelled at her.

"I- I feel that-" Blossom mumbled, unable to form coherent sentences, but she took a deep breath after that, though she was still sniffling, to rally herself and eke out a proper sentence: "Is it… my fault that Bunny died?"

"What did you say?" the professor questioned the enhanced little girl.

"Back when she was still alive… I wished that she would just die and leave me alone…" Blossom confessed to her Dad. "I thought I wouldn't care even if she's dead but now I want more than anything for her to come back…"

"I thought she was bad and evil… but she wasn't…" Blossom added when her Dad stayed silent.

The professor said nothing. Instead, he was looking at the ground, unable to bring himself to look at Blossom because of her confession.

"Dad…" Blossom pleaded with him.

Without saying a word, the professor walked away, disappearing into a maze of supercomputers of isolated compartments.

More depressed than ever, Blossom walked away, sobbing and wiping away tears. Without saying a word, her Dad had told her everything: that she was guilty, that Bunny's death was her fault. It seemed that even in death, she was still second to Bunny, who continued to command the professor's attention.


The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

13 MAR (Monday) 1989. 1719.

General Blackwater got out of his humvee. As usual, he was surrounded by his general's bodyguards, who began fanning out to form a defensive perimeter around the lawn of The House. The general casually strolled up the lawn path, past melting snow, and up the door. He rang the doorbell and waited.

Nothing.

He pressed the doorbell button again. It took whoever it was inside some time, but eventually, the door opened with a lazy creak. It was Selicia, looking a little disheveled, harried by something. The general thought it natural and believed that she must be going through hell, whether it was personal or professional.

"Sergeant," the general greeted the woman.

"General Blackwater, sir," Selicia returned the greeting, sloppier than usual, lacking energy.

"How are you holding up, soldier?" the general asked as he went into The House.

"It's been… bad," Selicia said. "Professor Utonium isn't reacting well to Bunny's death. The Girls neither. You know, they aren't helping, especially Blossom and Bubbles. They're still being really demanding even though someone died."

"And that is why I've posted you here, Selicia, to keep an eye on things," the general said without looking at her. Like the soldier he was, he was scrutinizing the entire living room, as if expecting an ambush to come out of nowhere. What he found instead was a living room that looked almost like the war zone he was used to. The entire house was in disarray. Empty beer cans on the coffee table with alcohol stains, empty or half-empty pizza boxes littered another corner of the table… and the floor. The television was still on, and there were remotes scattered all over the couch, table, and floor. There was a smell coming from everywhere - Selicia, the living room and the kitchen. Alcohol. Peeking at the adjoining kitchen, he saw even more trash and unwashed plates. The kitchen table was a mess. There were stains on the tiled floor and furniture. "These… Powerpuff Girls have the temperament of children, and you'll have to treat these bioweapons as children. If nothing else, it keeps them contained… I'll have to give the professor that. Speaking of the professor, where is he?"

"Down in the labs, general," Selicia said. "He hasn't been himself lately, and I don't think he's just… grieving, you know. I think he's lost it."

"Losing it IS another form of grieving, sarge," the general said. "If only you've had to grieve before. If only you've lost enough friends and family to fill buses."

"I've had people kick it on me before…" Selicia muttered, hanging her head low. "There's plenty of people I couldn't care less about, but my aunt-"

"Yes, I know about that. I expect no less commitment to the bioweapons. If anything, they've exceeded most of us once more, this time by suffering such a loss at such a young age," the general went on, again without looking at Selicia, this time his eyes fixed on the airlock leading to the labs, like an eagle hunting for prey. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a score to settle with the professor."

"What do you mean?" Selicia said, alarmed by the language he used. The general had been walking towards the airlock, only to stop and turn around.

"Nothing," he said after a pause. "I'm just going to have a man-to-man talk with your dear Thomas. It's a shame that your happiest day has been delayed, by the way. My condolences to all your losses."

With that, the general proceeded downstairs, emerging out into the underground lab as many others did before him to discover the same thing.

Selicia wasn't kidding when she said he'd lost it.

On walking towards the professor, the first thing he noticed wasn't the sight of him, but the smell. Something salty and rotten was in the air. The sight of him was the second thing the general bore witness to, and it was only by his experience in the violent degeneracy of humanity that got him through. The professor was in a rather sorry state, not unlike how men would look like after years of traumatic warfare.

"Professor Utonium," the general greeted with a flat tone. The professor, who had become quite unlike himself, barely acknowledged his presence. A passing glance was all he gave the general before returning to his calculation, which had accrued a massive wall of chalky scientific and mathematical incomprehensibles.

"Do you know why I'm here?" the general asked, not bothered by the lack of respect and attention the professor was paying him.

"It's Bunny, isn't it? She's… she's everything now," the professor mumbled absentmindedly, with much of his attention focused on his massive wall of blackboard, which had expanded in size to add a second floor.

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" the general agreed with the professor, and had the professor been in a more median state of mind, he would have been surprised.

"I have to find the cure…" the professor simply said, before returning back to his calculations, writing furiously on the blackboard with his chalk. The holder was filled with numerous spent chalks. His hands were white with chalk powder.

"Don't you want to find out more about her… heritage?" the general revealed. The professor stopped, taking a rare pause from his manic project to think about what the general said.

"What are you talking about?" he said, his voice a strangled whisper from extreme thirst.

"You remember, don't you? A dedicated father like you would," General Blackwater said vaguely. "Where Bunny's genetic material came from was top-secret information, but since she's now deceased, it's no longer the case. It's simply 'classified' now… accessible even to a field researcher like you."

"Why are you coming to me with this?" the professor asked weakly. He didn't so much as inch over to his desk to sit down on it as he was struggling towards it and collapsing butt-first on it.

"Because I want you to know exactly what you've done," the general said, his face twitching slightly as he did.

"I know exactly what I've done," the professor said, downcast, his perceived crime weighing heavily in his heart. In his desperate attempt to shield Bunny from the same kind of harm that had come to Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup in the line of duty, he had inadvertently killed her via the delayed effects of Chemical X2. In his arrogance, which had him believe that Chemical X2 would practically make Bunny invincible in combat, he had ensured her inevitable death. But 'inevitably' was just a word. There had to be a cure. There should be a cure!

"No, you don't," the general said in a harsh whisper before graduating to a bellow. "So shut the fuck up and listen!"

The professor did as he was told. It was easy to stay still and quiet as he was just about ready to collapse from hunger, thirst and exhaustion.

"When the council convened on the subject of creating a new bioweapon, there were many things that had to be decided upon, one of which was the genetic source of B-50, who we know and love as Bunny," the general explained. "Doctor Vanum suggested reducing the 'unknown variables' by reusing the DNA of Aislinn Callaghan, Blossom's genetic donor, with a few superficial alterations to 'vary the appearance of the resulting product' to avoid the awkwardness of having two of the same clones in the family. I shot that down hard, as did half the council. I know about your precious Blossom, how… sub-optimal her results are."

"Through no fault of her own," the professor managed to blurt out.

"I don't care whose fault it is. I don't need another failure plaguing our operations," the general said harshly, biting down on his words. "So, you know what they say. If you want it done right, you gotta do everything yourself. I suggested screening our existing USDO personnel for candidates to donate genetic material for the next bioweapon. Not everyone was too keen about having their younger self flitting through the air and striking terror in the hearts of both terrorists and civilians alike, but orders were orders and the decision I made to have TWO genetic donors rather than one quelled any unease entirely. Do you see where this is going?"

"The zygote. It wasn't a stem cell. You used a sperm and an ovum for IVF instead," the professor recounted.

"We narrowed down the list. Doctor Vanum and his science team did it by eliminating gene samples with any genetic diseases in it, and any genes that could lead to any manner of mental, emotional and physical weakness, followed by choosing amongst these the DNA samples that would lead to the best possible results," the general went on to tell his story, with surprising scientific accuracy, as if he had practiced telling it several times. "Guess what happened next?"

The professor was silent. He didn't know where this was going. He had long suspected it, but Bunny was her own person, not anyone else, and the choices made by others, however questionable, weren't hers. He'd loved her as his own regardless.

"It was a very narrow list indeed. It all came down to three from the science staff, two from admin, a corporal, three captains, and a general. Someone had to make the final decision, and since it's a military matter, it came down me, to be agreed upon or countermanded by Director Cliff," the general went on, pausing to watch the professor's face turning more pallid than it already was. "Since it's a soldier I require, I eliminated all civilian candidates immediately. That means you, Doctor Vanum and some lab assistant lady you probably don't remember-"

"I remember the names of all my staff-" the professor interrupted but didn't have the strength to impose himself or even go on for long.

"Yes, you had a shot at putting your genetic material in the fourth bioweapon of the USDO, professor, but I guess it's not meant to be. So it all came down to a corporal, three captains, and a general…" the general said, taking his time. "No offense to my three captains - you might know them: Captain Brian 'Brick' Griffin, Captain James 'Boomer' Wilbur and Captain Caylon 'Butch' Butcher - but their portfolios are shorter than a general's, and if you know about the birds and the bees, professor, which I know you no doubt do, we can't have two sperms, now, can we? So the corporal was chosen, though it's at no loss at all to the genetics of the fourth bioweapon. She's an impressive specimen in her own right if I were to jest like one of your own kind, professor. I'm sure she would have achieved as much as me in time…"

"And so the zygote you used to create Bunny… Yes, the genetic material came from me and Corporal Nana Weston," the general finally said, before approaching the professor menacingly. The professor shrank in his looming presence, powerless against the general even at his peak, but now more so with his loss and self-imposed thirst and starvation. "So let me make this short and sweet, professor. I've basically turned you into a God-damn cuckold without you knowing it, but I guess that would make me a cuckoo now, would it?"

Without warning, the general grabbed the professor by the collar, lifting him off his desk. The professor didn't resist, not only because of his physical weakness but also because he was spent inside.

"That was MY DAUGHTER you've KILLED!" General Blackwater screamed at the professor.

"Says a man who wouldn't invest a second into his daughter's life!" the professor cried as he tried in vain to break free of the general grasp, but he was way too weak to even imagine doing so. "You tossed her out into the ocean to drown!"

"I trained Bunny myself! I was out there in the field with her while you cowered at home with your lab toys! How dare you!" the general yelled, sounding wounded over the accusation. Was that a tear falling out of his eyes? The professor wasn't in the position to tell. He was thrown across the room like a doll after that.

"You're lucky I'm a civilized warrior living in civilized times," the general warned the professor, pointing fingers accusingly at him as he advanced towards him before kicking him while he was down. "Because I would have had you shot otherwise. I don't know what Bunny saw in you, or even Selicia for that matter. I'd watch your 'kids' more closely from now on if I were you."

And with that, the general left the professor alone in his lab, sobbing on the floor.