Reply to Guest: I don't intend to quit writing this at all, just that I've slowed down due to work-related reasons, mainly exhaustion. However, the worst of it has passed, so I think I'll be able to speed up from now on.
Chapter 133: Thunderbolt and Lightning
Television Recording 03201989-TNN-B
The following transcript is generated from a news segment pushed out by the Townsville News Network (TNN) from 1505-1510, shortly after the commencement of the Run-Away Buttercup Incident of 1989.
-TRANSCRIPT START-
Stanley Whitfield: Aaaand we have breaking news. The USDO has confirmed that one member of the Powerpuff Girls outfit has gone rogue. Previously, there was an unconfirmed activity of the Powerpuff Girl named Buttercup in the Tenements, along Queen Street. Our very own Phil Robertson is still down there at the scene. Can you hear me, Phil?
(Screen flips to split-screen)
Phil Robertson: I'm right here, Stanley.
Stanley Whitfield: How is it on the ground over there?
Phil Robertson: It's bad, as usual, Stan. As you can see behind me, we have a whole convoy of ambulances coming in just for this one incident. The attack of the rogue Buttercup has left one dead and four injured, some quite severely.
(Rushes over to one of the victims sitting on the floor. He is wearing a denim jacket. One shoulder is covered in bandages underneath.)
Phil Robertson: Sir, can you tell us more about the attack?
(Looks into the camera with a thousand-yard stare, though he refocuses quickly.)
Denim Punk: We were just minding our own business, man. She- she just came out of nowhere, started asking for my friend's jacket, hotdog, and cigarettes, man!
Phil Robertson: What happened after that?
Denim Punk: My friend started joking around - you know - he's got a wicked sense of humor, that guy. He'd crack jokes even when we were in the middle of a gang fight. The- the Buttercup didn't like that, so she *censored* up his arm and shot him in the head, man! We were just trying to help our friend, 'cause no one deserves to get his hand broke for a joke, but we got *censored* over for it. Our girls were *censored* over too, and they didn't do anything, man! Oh, poor 'Mily and Suzanne, they didn't deserve getting their backbones sliced, man!
Phil Robertson: I see. Even the details could kill. Well, a speedy recovery for you and your friends. Back to you, Stanley Whitfield.
Stanley Whitfield: Another day, another tragedy. Townsville never sleeps, and neither does its denizens. Related to this news, the USDO and TPD have jointly announced a massive mobilization exercise to bring the Powerpuff Girl, Buttercup, back home before she causes any further mishaps. Chief Commissioner Davis of the TPD has promised that if the situation does not improve, the national guard will be called in to assist. The FBI and CIA, according to a USDO spokesperson, has promised to assist with the Buttercup situation as well.
-TRANSCRIPT END-
The City of Townsville. Tenement Area. Tenement-Slums Border.
20 MAR (Monday) 1989. 1549.
Buttercup had been flying and darting out of sight for a while now, ever since killing the punk in the alley. It was hard work, staying out of sight. Who knew that normal people could respond so fast to her? The wail of distant sirens was everywhere in the city. She had been dodging it for almost two hours, and she had finally shaken them loose.
Too late, my time has come…
Flying into another alley when no one's looking, scattering drug addicts and prostitutes, she hid behind some concrete stairs, sitting on the cleanest spot she could find, which wasn't saying much.
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time…
She could hear her stomach growling like a dog, and it had been getting worst for the past two hours. Lethargy was setting in, cold sweat mingled amongst the hot. It was a problem she had never encountered before. Even when Dad had become withdrawn ever since killing Mom, he continued to ensure that she was well-fed.
Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go…
It was the first time she had tasted true hunger, and it'd left her with something bitter in her mouth. There were a million and one things to think about when it came to her run-away problem, but only one thing stood out in her mind right now.
FOOD.
How was it possible that something so plentiful had become so scarce now that she was running away? Buttercup was stumped. The House was filled with the stuff. Wherever Dad had brought her to was packed to the roof with it. Princess' house, restaurants, even the USDO headquarters had tonnes of food. One would think that even the streets would be paved with it!
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth…
Buttercup got out from behind the ugly concrete stairs. It'd started drizzling ice flakes from an undead winter. The continued growling of her stomach egged her on. The feeling of constant, gnawing emptiness and lethargy bit at her. She darted to the mouth of the alley, hands on her stomach. Poking her head out, she saw a mini-mart at a T-junction. The lighted sign above read 'Raj & Son's Sundry Mart'. Behind the bolded letters and unknown script in Tamil were pictures of fruits, ice creams, packed goods, and sweets, all of which caused Buttercup's stomach to rumble harder and her mouth to water.
Mama, ooo-ooh…
Without committing a single thought to it, Buttercup flew straight for the mini-mart door, bumping into the glass and would have broken through the glass had she aerobrake any slower. Inside, the Indian store owner jumped at the noise; he was previously looking like he could fall asleep at any moment.
I don't wanna die…
Buttercup threw open the door and floated in, making no attempt at being subtle. With her entrance, it would have been pointless.
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all…
It was warmer inside, something she appreciated immediately. The cold was making her hunger worse. It was a slow day, and there were no customers in the store. There was very little noise in the mini-mart, just the static of a television mounted near the ceiling and the sound of crinkling plastic packaging and potato chips ruffling at a corner of the store, near the beverage section.
The sweet smell of food was driving Buttercup insane.
"P-P-Powerpuff!" the Indian man at the cashier stammered, unable to believe the sight before him. Buttercup hovered deeper into the store, passing him, ignoring him at first. "It's an honor seeing you in my store!"
Stupid weird man! Buttercup thought, irritated for no real reason except finding his accent and appearance strange. The hunger certainly didn't help. But there was some good in this. Apparently, the store owner hadn't noticed that she had gone rogue, even with that look about her, the kind of look amplified by her stolen leather jacket and the stolen pistol hanging on her armor.
"It's great, what you're doing for the city," the Indian man said, going through his sentence faster than a regular man would. "I've- my family- we're fans ever since day one!"
"Please, help yourself to my goods! I give you 50% discount!" he went on, beaming widely at Buttercup, appearing generous as he folded his arms over his barrel chest. He was a thickset man, tall and muscular. The only thing that ruined the image was his belly, which stuck out. Had he not been an owner of a mini-mart, he would have been right at home in law enforcement or the army - not that it mattered to Buttercup.
Buttercup ignored the man. Making a sharp turn into an aisle, she scanned the shelves for food like how a predator would search for its prey, snarling like an animal when all she found were detergents and towels and all sorts of kitchen utensils on one shelf. Flying across to another aisle, she finally found it - the goldmine she'd been looking for.
On one shelf was an endless bounty of sweets and chocolates and biscuits arrayed in multiple wide rows. Unable to resist the sugary sight, Buttercup swept entire inventories of chocolate bars and rolls of biscuits to the floor before landing on her knees to tear open packaging and cardboard alike. Grabbing chocolate and biscuits by the handful, she began stuffing her mouth messily with them, chewing only briefly before swallowing whole mouthfuls of the stuff.
The Indian storeowner's smile faded just as quickly as his foodstuffs. He stood stock-still, arms still folded, this time out of apprehension and fear.
Next thing he knew, Buttercup began stuffing packets of sweets and chocolate bars and crackers into the pouches of her vest. It was only after she was done, and the gnawing hunger pangs in her stomach were defeated did she notice the store owner. Flying back to him, she hovered before him, almost at the same height as him, eyeing him as if a goddess deciding the fate of a mortal.
"You- You have to pay for all that!" the man said, incredulous that someone he admired had turned against him so senselessly and without reason. "I gave you 50% discount, not 100% discount!"
"What do you mean, pay?" Buttercup said as she was licking chocolate off her hand, her voice raspier than usual from the lack or water and the abundance of dry goods. "What does that mean?"
"You need to give me money for those stuff you took!" the Indian store owner said, displeased and his voice had boomed with anger. "Don't act stupid! I gave you a discount! Not free things! Pay up, pay up now!"
Buttercup knitted her eyebrows as she frowned at the Indian store owner. She didn't like being called stupid.
"You're selfish! I've fought bad guys since forever, and I can't get a few chocolate bars and sweets?" Buttercup said, at the same time trying to keep her magazine pouches from spilling open.
"Pay up and get out!" the storeowner boomed. Buttercup's eyes shined brighter. The man's frown disappeared as he couldn't help but stiffen up at this development.
"I'm not paying anything," Buttercup said. "And I'm going to help myself with your sodas. I'm thirsty!"
That was the last straw for the store owner. Reaching down, he pressed a call button to summon the police and pulled something long from below, something that Buttercup couldn't identify until it was pulled fully out and removed from its sheathe.
It was some kind of an old, ornate saber. The Indian storeowner went around his counter, brandishing it, but Buttercup wasn't intimidated and was actually watching this with mild interest.
"Get out, get out I said!" he yelled. "You come in here, mess up my store and steal my things when I gave you a big discount!"
The storeowner swung his saber at Buttercup, who dodged the blow easily. Still screaming, he aimed another hack at Buttercup, who blocked it with her forearm. A lime-green energy shield formed above it. The saber's blade was emasculated, half of it bouncing off the shield, landing tip-first on the ground. Before the store owner could react to that, Buttercup gave him a left punch, which amounted to a light tap to the former Powerpuff, but it was enough to hurt and stumble him back. Had he not leaned on his counter, he would have fallen over and hurt his back.
"Papa?" came a young boy's voice from around the corner. Buttercup had just drawn both her USDO-issued and stolen pistols. She pointed her right pistol - the old M1911 from the punk she killed, at whoever it was who came around the corner.
"No! Don't!" the Indian man cried. Buttercup saw who it was in the meantime. A young boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, had come around the corner with a half-full basket of potato chips. He had been doing inventory, stocking them up on the shelves, and he'd dropped them out of shock.
"Power…puff?" the young boy said, unable to believe what he saw. He had been listening from the corner, and he couldn't even believe what he was hearing to begin with. "Buttercup?" Apparently, the boy knew who she was, though it wasn't a surprise to Buttercup.
Buttercup turned to the Indian man, a sly look on her face, smiling mischievously, which appeared to have frightened the huge man.
"Please don't, not my son!" he cried; he was actually driven to tears. He ran for Buttercup, seizing her by the arm, not to fight her, but to plead with her. Buttercup pushed him away, pistol-whipping him hard enough to floor him.
"Pa!" the Indian boy cried, but before Buttercup could have her way with him, an Indian woman in a sari had come flying out (not literally) from the storeroom, a pump-action shotgun in her hands, screeching at Buttercup. She was only able to fire a single shotgun shell before Buttercup trained both her pistols on her and returned fire with both barrels without aiming.
It wasn't even a contest.
The Indian woman in sari fell after sustaining several bullets while her shotgun blast did nothing. The pellets had ricocheted off her harmlessly. The store owner crawled to her, crying. The boy had burst into tears, though he was surprisingly silent. But he wasn't the only child. Another stood at the doorway of the storeroom, a girl about her age.
"Why are you doing this to me!? You're a demon, a demon! I curse you!" the Indian cried as he tried what he could to stem his wife's bleeding, pulling medical supplies off the shelves nearby.
It'd occurred to Buttercup belatedly then that she had overstayed her welcome. She would have left, too, had it not been the huge party of uniforms arriving to greet her outside. Looking out the plain glass windows of the mini-mart, she could see humvees and police cruisers arriving, with soldiers and police officers coming out quickly and taking up positions behind their vehicles to surround the little store. Buttercup could recognize the odd shade of Duranium through her Duranium vision. Some of the USDO soldiers were armed with weaponry that could hurt her, even kill her, if Bunny was anything to go by.
Looking at the crying Indian boy gave Buttercup an idea and none too soon, as a squad of police officers and USDO soldiers were coming up the entrance to breach it. Flying to the boy, she grabbed him by the collar before law enforcement could even reach the doors. By the time they made contact with Buttercup, she had latched onto the boy's back like an imp with the street punk's M1911 pointing at his head.
I see a little silhouette of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
The officers and USDO soldiers took up positions behind the shelves, flanking Buttercup, who was trapped in the aisle she just raided. She couldn't see it, but she could hear that more were on the way; the footsteps, the radio chatter gave them away. Soon, she would be surrounded.
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me
(Galileo) Galileo, (Galileo) Galileo, Galileo Figaro magnifico
Backing away, Buttercup pulled the boy along to the other exit of the aisle.
"Bravo-four-eight, we have you surrounded!" the USDO squad leader, some soldier wearing a gas mask, informed the cornered Buttercup. "Release the hostage, drop your weapons and surrender, or we will use force!"
But I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me
Buttercup did not respond. Instead, she continued pulling her hostage back further, fully leaving the aisle. She rounded the corner of the innermost shelf, ending upright by the walls of glass and beverages.
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
This time, she was pushing her sniveling and weeping hostage forward. More of them had just gone through the door. Buttercup could hear them. So, hurrying the boy forward, pistol still pressing against his head, she led him forward and past the cops taking cover behind the shelves.
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
She could see the looks on their faces. A mixture of hatred and disappointment and even pity. She didn't care.
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
All she wanted was food, and she'd just gotten them.
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go) Bismillah! We will not let you go
Bringing the Indian boy through the manager's office, still using him as a shield, she looked around the surroundings for an exit. The next best thing was a slit of a window near the ceiling, likely built that way to deter thieves and robbers, but it wouldn't have deterred someone like her.
(Let me go) Will not let you go
(Let me go) Will not let you go
"Let the hostage go!" the USDO squad leader shouted from outside. "Surrender and you won't be harmed!" Soldiers were taking positions around the door. She could hear distant radio chatters. More were coming to block her off from outside the manager's office.
(Never, never, never, never let me go) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
Buttercup did not listen; she had no intention of surrendering and facing the consequences that were snowballing from her perspective. She had assaulted 'Dad', killed a street punk, and likely killed the wife of a store owner.
Oh, mamma mia, mamma mia
Mamma mia, let me go
Pushing the boy forward hard, causing him to fall and slide on the ground, Buttercup went for the window, flying out of it, but not before the nimble and quick USDO squad leader fired a Duranium round at her, grazing her thigh.
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me,
for me,
for me!
Buttercup flew up and away. Gunshots rattled below, none of which struck her as she was too fast and too small a target.
The City of Townsville. Tenement Area. Raj & Son's Sundry Mart.
20 MAR (Monday) 1989. 1604.
Blossom and her only remaining team member, Bubbles, flew down to a street in the Tenements, right next to a mini-mart swarming with police officers. They'd flown over the moment they heard on the phone that it was Buttercup. Well, it was mostly Blossom, anyway. Blossom had to drag Bubbles along as the softer Powerpuff was content to cry in a corner of her room. Blossom had to fight the urge to join her, and thankfully, her intellect and sense of duty won out.
Together, the Girls were led into the mini-mart where it happened. A USDO squad leader was going on about everything Buttercup had done. Bubbles barely listened, and the moment there were places to do so, she sat down and started weeping into her hands again - and she'd done it on the countertop of the shop this time.
A body shrouded by white cloth had set her off. The brown-skinned hand of the store matron was sticking out lifelessly from underneath, covered with blood and painted nails. Parts of a sari poked out as well.
Blossom would ask questions and receive questions in return, but ultimately, it all went nowhere as they couldn't establish where Buttercup would retreat to next, much to the frustration of the USDO squad leader. All they had to go on were locations they had previously visited on and off duty. That would have been the end of this case had it not been another group of law enforcers walking through the entrance of the mini-mart.
Mister Mullens. Blossom flew straight for him the moment she saw him, giving him a big hug. Stanley Talker got up to Bubbles. Standing on his hind legs, he was able to reach her and nudge her by the leg with his nose. Bubbles peeked at him, froze for a moment because she couldn't believe what she was seeing, but then got off her counter after that and hugged the talking dog. As soon as she saw who brought him, Bubbles joined Blossom and Mister Mullens' group hug, along with Olivia.
When Blossom withdrew herself, Mister Mullens saw tears running down her face.
"I heard about what happened," Mister Mullens said. He reached for her face to wipe the tears away. "We'll get it fixed immediately, get your sister back in no time."
"I don't want Buttercup back," Blossom said.
"Well, we're going to have to figure this out somehow," he said. Just then, the USDO squad captain came up to them, ripping off his gas mask. He turned out to be Captain Caylon Butcher after all, or 'Butch', as he was known by.
"Should've gunned down the both of them," he grumbled, referring to Buttercup and the Indian boy she'd used as a meatshield. He then turned to the Powerpuff Girls and Mullens' posse, looking at them with clear disdain. "Are you guys done wit your soap opera? Bravo-Four-Seven, if you're going to cry like a baby, I suggest you fly back home to do it. Took you long enough to get here. You're useless! That goes for you coppers too, buncha useless doughnut-eating fatties! Get the fuck out of my sight!"
Stanley Talker at the back was growling as if rearing to attack a trespasser. Just as Captain Butcher turned to leave, Olivia Mullens blocked his way.
"Talk that way in front of the kids again and I'll make you half the man you use to be," Olivia threatened. Butch simply laughed, as if Olivia had just told a lame joke.
"Kids? You think they're kids?" Butch chuckled. "In case you haven't noticed, little girl, the bodies are piling up. Right, Blossy?" Before Olivia could object, Butch pushed her aside with almost no effort and went on his way, making sure to show them a middle finger on his way to his humvee.
"What a dick!" Olivia said.
