Chapter 160: Where It Will End (Part 1)

The City of Townsville Coastline. Monster Island.

25 MAR (Saturday) 1989. 2218.

Blossom stood by her campfire, arms akimbo as she watched the children and teenagers of the abandoned hotel file out of what used to be their prison, followed by men and women who were all tied up and mostly injured; the youngsters' former captors. They were all accompanied by Delta Force operatives, or the police officers and USDO soldiers assisting them. Only half of them were armed, while the other half were deprived of their firearms as the rightfully-paranoid Blossom couldn't trust them. The weapons were all piled next to her. All Duranium and Anti-X weapons were part of that pile of armaments.

"Are you sure about this? What if… what if…" Bubbles couldn't even finish her sentence. There was a sense of dread in her, but it was formless. Everything that had happened so far had drained her of any faith in the powers that be that weren't them.

"We should've killed them all, Bloss," Buttercup said, though she knew she was risking a lot. "The 'good guys' tried to kill us and the bad guys… They tried to kill us too!"

Blossom said nothing; she had masterminded every movement currently happening and it had spoken for her. This way, all her problems would solve themselves. Well, most of them. But at least the three factions - the smugglers, the captive children, and the Delta Force squads would no longer be a problem; the Delta Force operatives would be kept busy turning in the smugglers and rescuing the children, the smugglers would themselves be made prisoners and face some form of justice while the children would be saved.

Her eyes closed, Blossom took a deep breath. In her mind, the tree she broke then 'repaired' with the help of her sisters came to mind once again. So far, things had worked out, and it hadn't for a long time. The reason why was clear this time: it was because the the three of them had relied on themselves rather than others for help. Monster Island was a small victory, with most of her problems solved, but there were a few more: the very reasons for their exile in the first place.

The Amoeba Boys, the core problem that, once solved, would end all problems. Or would it? Even Blossom couldn't know for sure.

"It's time to go," Blossom finally said to her sisters, Bubbles and Buttercup.

"But where are we going to go?" Bubbles asked, while slow on the uptake, was this time justified because of everything that had happened.

"We're going to fight the Amoeba Boys," Blossom said curtly, and without waiting for a reply, took off into the sky.

"But how are we going to beat them?" Buttercup asked; even the thought of crossing the Amoeba Boys, especially the Don Ricci - Bossman - was giving her pause. She took off after Blossom on realizing she was racing ahead, and she was followed by Bubbles.

Blossom said nothing more, even when Buttercup repeated her question, nagging at her to spill her plan.

The problem was, there was none. Blossom, for all her fledgling intellect, couldn't think of any. At this point, Blossom didn't care even if she died trying to bring the Amoeba Boys to justice. With Dad gone - apparently - she felt empty and numbed to the bone. In her mind, there was nothing left to live for, and happy memories from the past were soured as a result, becoming ghosts that could only haunt her.

The Girls flew over the waters. How long did it take, Blossom did not bother tracking. Clouds swirled overhead, thunders, like drum beats, pounded away above them, as if ushering in their imminent arrival to the Lombardi estate. Blossom sped up when she saw, through zoomed vision, that the Lombardi's gigantic mansion was within view.

The Girls streaked across the sky, painting a line of pink, baby blue and lime green that everyone in the city could probably see, but they didn't care. Blossom had only one thing in her mind now, and it was something Bubbles and Buttercup could get behind.

The mansion loomed closer, getting bigger and bigger. The ever-present sound of wailing sirens echoed in the distance; the whole city was probably getting wise to the Girls' next move, but they didn't care.

Blossom began descending, still flying at full speed; her sisters followed suit. Aiming straight for the giant oaken double doors, Blossom pushed herself beyond her limit, flying even faster; her sisters, through their shared Sister-Sense, followed suit.

The double doors were blown off their hinges, sent tumbling and sliding yards as if they were cardboard. The Girls were greeted by a grand foyer with two great, curved stairwells leading up to the second floor. The stairwells were completely occupied by gunmen, gangsters belonging to the disparate gangs of Townsville; Italians, Sicilians, Russians, Chechens, Jewish Mafia, Black Mafia… They were all unitedunder the leadership of Bossman, Slim and Junior now, and it was all because of the mistakes they made in trusting the criminal overlords.

The Girls stood close to the doors they blew off, glaring at them all. More men crowded behind the railings of the second floor corridors overlooking the main hall, cocking their weapons. More men and some women from the many other gangs of Townsville had shown up; homegrown American gangsters, the Yakuza, fighters of the Chinese Triads…

They were up against almost a hundred gangsters now under the banner of the Don Riccis - the Amoeba Boys - Bossman, Slim and Junior; they were identified by many feared names.

They were there, just standing there in the center of the grand foyer, surrounded by men they had won through the Girls' unwitting work. Bossman, the huge, burly one with a Tommy-gun, was smoking a cigar - Blossom could smell the smoke from where she was. Slim, a tall and slender looking creature, stood beside the don of dons with his M16, likely bought off a corrupt army officer. Junior stood on Bossman's other flank with a pair of Uzis, dressed in his best vest and business wear.

Bossman took another puff of his cigar and blew the smoke off, savoring the smoke.

"If it isn't the Powerpuff Girls," he greeted the Girls after picking his cigar out of his mouth, his manner so casual it made the Girls madder than they were. Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup glared at him with looks that could kill. "Are you three here to kill us or get your manicure done?"

Slim and Junior sniggered at Bossman's joke. The Girls' buttons were pushed, and it was easy to; they weren't even past a year old and they were already enraged. Blossom gritted her teeth. A tear streaked down Bubbles' cheek as she continued glaring at Bossman. Buttercup's out-of-place shark smile had all but disappeared.

"We were friends back then, don't you remember?" Bossman went on and turned to his brother dons. "Right, Slim? Junior?" The lesser dons snickered and acknowledged Bossman's words mischievously.

"We were never friends," Blossom growled, denying everything, her eyes misting from memories of the Amoeba Boys' betrayal. Bossman smiled dismissively even in the face of Blossom's obvious rage and distress. Blossom's bark was never louder than her bite on account of her enhancements but young age, and the Amoeba Boys knew it.

"Funny, 'course I remember us lunching together, not too long ago," Bossman said, acting coy. Slim and Junior picked up on this and giggled, further infuriating the Girls. Blossom clenched her fists harder; she could feel her nails digging into her palms. "Yeah, you've even slept in my bed. It was awfully comfy, ain't it? You looked cute when you're asleep, by the way."

Bossman had gotten Blossom to drink wine once, and the wine was concentrated enough to kill a man… and get her drunk instantly. Thinking back, that day was a start of her unmaking. One of the photos leaked to pretty much everyone in Townsville was a shot of her passed out and drunk in Bossman's bed, unglamorous and shamefully clad in clothing that didn't belong to her.

Blossom shook with fury as she was forced to recall such vivid details. It was all because of the Amoeba Boys' scheming that the city had turned against them, that the last few days had been hell for them - constantly on the run, constantly thirsty, hungry, tired and in pain… constantly losing friends. Tears that had been welling up for a while finally streamed down Blossom's cheeks. She counted backwards from ten to zero, just like Daddy used to teach her. Dad was another bad memory, and it'd dimmed the effectiveness of the technique.

She opened her eyes, her glare still there, the fight still in her.

"Oh, we remember alright. It was a mistake," Blossom said as she took a step forward. A cacophony of guns cocking and readied resounded throughout the mansion.

"And we're taking you in-" Buttercup declared for Blossom.

"-Amoeba Boys!" Bubbles completed Buttercup's sentence for her as she came up next to Blossom. Buttercup too; she was overly eager for another fight, and it helped her enthusiasm that it was a justified one.

"Can I kill them? I'd like to kill them," Buttercup said obsessively, her killer eyes fixed on the Amoeba boys; she was no longer hiding it - her lust for blood and violence. Holding back had been too difficult for her. With Blossom out for half the battle with the Delta Force operatives, she could have taken the opportunity to do her worse, but she knew Blossom had a way of finding out her deeds sooner or later - and so she held back.

But she knew she couldn't hold back any longer. The desire to kill had grown unbearably tempting.

"No, Buttercup! Haven't you learned anything yet?" Blossom chided her, holding her back as usual. "We can't be like them! Isn't it bad enough the last time!?" The Amoeba Boys were close to corrupting them and folding them into their criminal ranks.

"Yeah Blossom, keep your bitch sister on a leash," Bossman mocked his fledgling counterpart. "You should know how. You learned from the best. You learned from me. I sure kept a leash on you." At this, Slim and Junior laughed again. The Girls were taken aback by the foul language, too. Professor Utonium had taught them better.

"Haha, nice one, boss. 'Bitch sister', haha!" Junior laughed like an imp at the crude joke.

"You'll be eating soap in prison, Amoeba Boys!" Blossom warned.

"We'll give you one more chance!" Bubbles continued after Blossom.

"Drop your weapons or else!" Buttercup threatened, though her warning was less than genuine. She wanted a fight, and if the Amoeba Boys came quietly, there wouldn't be one. Not that she believed they would do so – even a 5-year-old could see that, and she wasn't too far from being one.

"Else what? You're going to fight me in that pretty little dress of yours?" Bossman taunted again. "What? Isn't mommy there to watch your little SWAT costume?" The Girls' gear and uniform had been burned up by napalm while they were on the run from their own supposed allies in the USDO. It was an experience they wouldn't care to repeat; being engulfed in flame - the Girls were still afraid of fire even if they couldn't be harmed by it - to be covered in fire was still an excruciating experience, not to mention having to fly naked across a mall, clothed in nothing but black goop and burnt rags…

But the taunt had set Buttercup off. Blossom knew that Buttercup would react that way. She immediately took hold of Buttercup by the arm when she launched forward. The mere mention of Mom and how she wasn't there had hit close to home. Bossman knew - somehow, he knew. He always knew things.

The Amoeba Boys weren't cowed by Buttercup's threat. Slim especially, since he had personally defeated and drowned Buttercup in the sea before. Blossom leaned closer to Buttercup.

"Buttercup, stop," she whispered into her ear. "I think we'll have to fight them, but we're doing it my way."

"Well, are you three giving up or not?" Blossom demanded from the Amoeba Boys. Bossman stayed silent, his smile spreading wider.

"Oh fine, you got me, I'm so scared," Bossman said sarcastically, mocking her before pointing his Tommy-gun at Blossom. "How 'bout I give you my gun one bullet at a time, kiddo!? I'll decorate your pink dress with some shiny lead!"

It wasn't an empty threat, all three Girls knew. The mob boss knew how to aim his gun, and there's a good chance at least one of his bullets was made of Duranium. The Girls understood this at an instinctual level. Basically, they had learned to FEAR Bossman, and they hadn't even fought him before.

Blossom glared at Bossman, fighting back fear desperately. The urge to turn tail and fly away was strong; she remembered what Bubbles had warned her about. All their encounters with the Amoeba Boys had ended in defeat, and those encounters had been with 'just' Slim and Junior.

Yet even now, her answer to that remained the same.

"Buttercup, right! Bubbles, left!" Blossom screamed her orders, which her sisters promptly followed. They darted up into the air at high speeds, leaving behind baby blue and light green trails behind them.

Blossom, Slim, and Junior opened fire after that. Blossom stayed where she was, taking a knee and doing a cross-block with her arms. A pink X-energy shell was formed around her. Streams of bullets ricocheted off her shield, or deformed themselves upon it. Blossom tried her best not to let up, but the storm of bullets was too much; her shell broke, and yet Blossom held on, shielding herself with nothing but her bare arms. Bossman had fulfilled his promise, decorating her pink dress with some shiny lead. His underlings from the second floor followed suit, raining down hell from above.

If there were any Duranium bullets, they had either been stopped by her energy shield or gone past her. All she knew was that something had to be done about the metallic weather.

The moment the torrential rain of lead from the Amoeba Boys let up, Blossom charged up her eyes, letting heat build up as her tears turned to steam. Within the space of a second, she let off a twin beam of Chemical X enhanced heat beams. Sweeping the beams across the second floor, she forced the gangsters above to duck, scramble and run for cover as she burned the ancient architecture around her.

In the meantime, Buttercup bowled into her side of the hall, hurling herself right into a gallery of men arrayed on the right stairwell. She was too fast, and even when there was a wall of bullets fired in her general direction, relatively few actually struck her to no effect. Dozens shredded her dress as she tackled several men to the stairs at once.

Getting up, she upper-cut a Russian gangster in the elbow when he pointed his pistol at her, shattering it. In a fluid motion, as half a dozen other bad guys struggled to aim and shoot at her, Buttercup threw herself into a flying kick, driving her foot into another man's chest. There was a loud series of sickening crunches. This slowed her momentum enough that soon, she was feeling the angry stings of multiple assault weapons on her back; there was no Duranium, so only her dress and psyche was wounded.

Whirling around with eyes as red as the setting sun, as if her anger was made manifest, she fired a pair of laser beams, sweeping it across dozens of gangsters. Half of them fell immediately. There was blood everywhere. Blood had stained everything. Cloth, skin and muscles were split as numerous men held the deep lacerations in their stomachs and chests. Others collapsed, tangled in their own intestines.

Bubbles on the left stairwell circled around her fifty or so opponents. Being faster than Buttercup, Bubbles was able to dodge the thousands of bullets fired in her direction. Like Buttercup, a tiny fraction of the bullets had lucked into her, tearing at dress and inflicting pain. Zipping behind them, she outmaneuvered the inflexible column of gun-toting gangsters and landed at the top of the stairs. Out of sight from all but the top row of bad guys, she flew into the gangsters, pushing them down the stairs. Like dominoes, they knocked into each other, causing a waterfall of gangsters rolling down to the foot of the stairs.

Not all the gangsters were caught in the human cascade. As Bubbles landed over the sea of fallen enemies to look for anyone who wasn't knocked out, A Sicilian mafiaso rose out of the carpet of people and pointed his shotgun at Bubbles. Bubbles was too fast however, and she managed to push the gun out of the way before he could fire before punching him out and sending him tumbling down the stairs, rolling over his friends.

Bubbles continued skipping down the stairs covered in people, which was when another gangster - another Sicilian - pointed a Scorpion submachinegun at her. He was too close for comfort however - he could only get a few shots off before she was right up his face, delivering a sucker punch at him and sending him rolling down as well.

In the meantime, Blossom charged towards the Amoeba Boys immediately after she had set fire to the entire second floor. They immediately fired upon her, slowing her down as she needed to cover her face without her usual X-energy shield. The leaders of the Lombardi crime family was almost as quick, but quick enough to sprint and retreat towards a door between the hall's grand staircases, pushing past another group of gangsters just emerging from that same door, heavily armed with machineguns of various makes meant for suppressing hundreds in a war.

Opening fire, they forced Blossom back, and while she was blinded by the heavy suppressive fire, another Italian mobster came forward with a rocket-propelled grenade launcher on his shoulder, something which Blossom noticed too late when the rocket-propelled grenade was fired at her. All she could do was to throw her arms up in front of her helplessly, but she felt it in her shoulder when the RPG shot past her arms and slammed right into her chest.

BOOM! Buttercup and Bubbles turned from where they were to look at their leader sister, but all they could see in her place was smoke. The machine gunners stopped while the gangster with the RPG began reloading his launcher. A bad mistake on their part. From the smoke, two red, glowing orbs appeared, becoming brighter; bigger. Two heat rays, their paths made clearly visible by dust and smoke, shot at the gangsters who had hurt her, tracing a path across several of them, burning them and knocking them out.

Buttercup returned her attention to the battle at hand when it was apparent that it wasn't over; a bullet bounced off her skull, and she could hear a ring inside herself like an alarm clock. Flying in a zigzag trajectory towards the shooter, she smacked aside his pistol arm, sending the pistol flying across the hall and gave him a multi-ton punch in the jaw. The sound of bones shattering and teeth scattering on the floor sent shivers of thrill and excitement down Buttercup's spine. Rebuilding her teeth collection, however, would have to come later as she could feel a spray of bullets down her back. Zooming elsewhere with her near-sound-barrier speed of flight, she fired a well-placed laser eyebeam at her attacker, straight to his neck.

The gangster was beheaded immediately, his head bouncing down the steps and hands reaching up to his neck only to find nothing. Without knowing it, Buttercup had slipped into her old self again, forgetting her cover as a good and reformed sister. It was just too tempting. Blood was squirted onto her, and she smiled. The body collapsed after that.

There were still more gangsters on Bubbles' side - she had merely sent them tumbling down the stairs, an unpleasant but non-fatal experience. Flying backwards, she surveyed the human terrain. That was when she felt it: goosebumps rising, the hairs on the back of her neck standing.

Duranium.

One of the bad guys had it. She could see a pinprick of odd reflections in the distance. Even as bullets rattled off her while she threw up her arms and a weak energy shield in self-defense, she searched her surroundings, trying to track the dangerous point of shimmering, eldritch reflection in the distance. It was moving, and it was hard to follow. For a time, she had lost it, but it didn't take long for her to find it again - it shimmered vaguely, and she could see it because she was staring down the barrel of a sniper rifle.

It was too late by then. The Duranium thug fired his Girl-Killer shell, and the best Bubbles could do was explode in energy and throw up everything she had into a baby blue bubble of protection around her; a protective reflex born from being shot at so many times by Duranium bullets.

But it wasn't enough. It never was. The Duranium shell had punched through her Chem-X energy shield regardless, burying itself in her chest, blood spraying out. At the same time, she sucked in a prodigious amount of air and let loose a deafening scream, breaking every glass window in the vicinity, blowing eardrums and knocking the remaining gangsters she was fighting down.

Blossom, in the meantime, emerged out of the smoke around her like a jet airplane, her dress still on fire, flying into her attackers, knocking men into the cold hard walls of the cold, hard mansion they were defending, then throwing punches at the rest, who could only panic and fire wild shots at the indestructible girl at close quarters, doing absolutely nothing but enraging the red-head who was both literally and figuratively on fire. She took the last man standing by the collar and threw him to the ceiling before letting him go; the gangster crashed to the ground chest-first, knocking him unconscious - and possibly breaking his back. Blossom could certainly hear a sickening crack, but she couldn't spare the energy to care anymore for the gangsters who had caused her much pain - both during and before the battle.

Panting and shaking, Blossom finally landed after doing her part of the battle before heading back to the center of the grand foyer to see her sisters. It wasn't until she was halfway there that she noticed the fire still eating away at her pink dress, so she patted down the fire, realizing in dismay that the top-left quarter of it was completely burnt off, leaving the dress hanging only by a blackened shoulder and the belt. Her dress was bordered everywhere in sooty black; only half of it was pink. Furthermore, it was pockmarked with holes and she could feel the wind through them. The undergarment covering her chest survived; the thick material was made for the last legs of the winter, but it was partially singed too, with spots of black and brown and holes as well. She was burnt everywhere, right down to her white pantyhose, which was burnt into what looked like knee-high socks. Her red bow was similarly singed, with one of its ears disfigured and drooping.

Queasy and lethargic from having expended some of her X-energy, she searched the right staircase for Buttercup to find her approaching a wounded Italian gangster dragging himself away from her, clutching a broken leg that was bent the wrong way in multiple places, the result of Buttercup's ruthless pursuit for bloody entertainment. Buttercup took her time, watching with glee how frightened her plaything was, completely losing herself to her perverse passion. Blossom, despite everything, was still surprised; Buttercup had done a good job in convincing everyone that she had changed.

And she had done a good job in trying to change Blossom; Blossom stood still at first, deciding at first to let Buttercup do her thing and let the gangster face justice. That decision didn't last long.

"No! Please! Don't kill me!" the Italian begged before he met the wall in his futile effort to get away. He pressed himself against it, leaning on it, a look of abject horror in his face. "Mercy!"

Buttercup was anything but merciful; it was as if she did not hear him. She came closer to the gangster, step by step, a victorious, unbridled smirk on her face. She particularly liked the way the once proud and confident mobster was now begging for her to show mercy. She loved how the blood of the gangster's friends was spattered all over her dress, all over her. The warm blood felt good on her skin. She loved the sensation of the bloody teeth in her fist - more souvenir to add to her new collection.

"Here, doggy, doggy…" Buttercup taunted the wounded gangster with a vicious smile that'd spread from ear to ear, her voice shivering with ecstasy as she raised a fist, only to feel a hand seizing her by the wrist.

"Buttercup! Stop!" it turned out to be Blossom, who immediately shot a mild heat ray at the wounded gangster to knock him out. "Did you kill all of them?"

"Well…" Buttercup said, unsure if she should tell her sister. They both turned to look at her handiwork. The men on the right stairwell were all motionless except perhaps one or two. They strewn about the scene randomly as if they were toys dashed against a wall by a kid with a temper. Their bodies broken, and it was clear who had twisted them. "Not all of them, I think…"

In the middle of the grand foyer, Buttercup had met Blossom on equal terms; her dress was just as damaged, full of holes and scorch marks from gunshots. There was a rip on her right side where she had sustained the most bullet impacts. Despite this, she didn't look as worn out as Blossom. In fact, she looked energized from all the fighting she had done, from all the manslaughter (by self-defense) she had committed.

Blossom would have let it slide, would have turned a blind eye and the other cheek had she not had her revelation - that she would never, ever let go of her Dad's vision, his teachings for a better tomorrow.

"It's wrong to kill, Buttercup," Blossom lectured her sister again, though there wasn't much confidence in her voice left. The past few days had drained her, and Buttercup, unfortunately, was responsible for part of it. "Dad… Dad said so himself."

"Even after what they did to us?" Buttercup sustained her assault on Blossom's morals, determined to break it. She folded her arms after stealthily depositing her collected teeth into a pocket. "After what they did to Mom? To Blake and the rest? What about Olivia And Mullens? They hurt them badly, and we should do the same! It's fair that way!"

Blossom was actually tempted by thoughts of revenge, and Buttercup was particularly good at that, drawing the darkness from inside her. For a moment, she stayed silent, fighting this darkness in her, closing her eyes as she struggled with it in her.

"No," Blossom simply said.

"No? Blossom! It was because of them that-" Buttercup was about to add another name to the list when Blossom exploded on her.

"DON'T YOU DARE BRING HER UP!" Blossom screamed like a mad girl when she figured out, with help from her Sister Sense, who Buttercup was about to mention. It was so sudden that even Buttercup was taken aback. Blossom, however, on seeing Buttercup's uncharacteristic reaction, realized she had gone out of control.

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. It's… It's just-" Blossom apologized, but she was unable to finish her sentence before her traumatizing losses caught up with her - especially when it concerned HER. She whimpered in pain as she felt fresh tears on her face.

BUNNY

Blossom's youngest sister came to mind so powerfully, so strongly that she could almost touch her. Her face, her form, her words were all imprinted into her mind, as hard-coded as the neurons she used to crawl or cry.

"Blossom... It's not your fault. You didn't know," Buttercup said in a suddenly soft and respectful tone, even leaning in to give her a hug. Despite her slip-ups, Buttercup had changed for the better recently ever since she returned from running away. Blossom couldn't explain it - no one could really - but she wasn't going to question it. She'd put it down to Buttercup getting wiser with a change of perspective after living on the streets for a while, especially after her electrocution, and it sure beats the old Buttercup who wouldn't hesitate to strangle her.

Only one person knew it was all just bullshit, a show to get on Blossom's good side - and Buttercup was that person. Unbeknownst to Blossom, Buttercup was wearing a psychotic smile, but Blossom could not see it while she was embracing her.

"I should've listened to her," Blossom cried into Buttercup's shoulder. Buttercup patted her on the back before Blossom let go, stifling her cries and sucking it up, locking her tears away. "I- I'm fine… We needed saving back then, and t-there's no one to- to save in this house. You could have tapped those men and they'd still go down. Like what Bubbles probably-"

Mentioning Bubbles' name had had Blossom remember about her other sister's welfare. She'd been so caught up in her own misery that she had neglected the sweetest of them all.

"Buttercup, where's Bubbles?" Blossom asked while she was still drying her cheeks while looking around the grand foyer for her sister. She clutched her head, feeling a headache coming on. They were invulnerable to (almost all) physical threats from punches and kicks to even anti-tank shells, yes, but their minds were still just as fragile as any other little girls'. Blossom remembered her Dad warning them just as much, that too much pain from physical attacks could be bad for them - and Blossom had discovered that again. She felt like vomiting and fainting. Buttercup held her up when Blossom's knees buckled. The RPG was the worst - for an instant, it felt as if she was blown apart only to remain whole.

"I'm fine," Blossom said. Straightening herself out and swallowing the urge to vomit, she looked around the place once more, particularly at places she hadn't looked. She checked the left stairwell, thinking that she might find her there as she had ordered her to take the left, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Bubbles, where are you!? We gotta go kick some butts!" Buttercup yelled.

They didn't have to search for long. They finally spotted her sitting on the steps of the left stairwell, clutching her chest, her face pale, her other hand holding onto the banister as she leaned on it. Her hands were covered in blood, and so was her dress.

"Bubbles!" Blossom cried as she flew to her. "It's all my fault! I'm so sorry!"

Buttercup flew up next to them, and when she saw what had happened to Bubbles, she braked hard, looking appropriately shocked.

"Whoa! Bubbles, what did they do!?" Buttercup exclaimed, her earlier revelry in destruction seemingly forgotten.

"Duranium… Bullet…" Bubbles struggled to utter. "One of them… had it. We- we have to go."

She tried to stand up, but pain shot up in her chest where she was shot, forcing her to stop pushing it; her face scrounged up in pain. Blossom held Bubbles, almost hugging her when she nearly fell. The bullet hadn't gone in deep owing to her baby blue energy bubble, but it was still painfully disabling. Few things were capable of penetrating the Girls' flesh, but whenever something did, it tended to be excruciating.

"Bubbles - just sit down, Bubbles. You can't go on like this," Blossom gently lowered Bubbles back down to the step she was sitting on. Looking at her, she didn't think that Bubbles could continue deeper into the Lombardi mansion. They had fought hard right at the beginning, but they had only merely scratched the surface. Knowing the Amoeba Boys and what they had done, the guns they had brought to bear on them were only appetizers. There were harder foes than a bunch of ordinary criminals in here - Blossom was certain. It would be an uphill battle to clear their name and avenge Dad, but it had to be done.

The wailing of police sirens catching up to them nagged at them, telling them that time was running out.

"Blossom, we need Bubbles to keep fighting! It can't just be the two of us! Blossom!?" Buttercup whined at Blossom, but her leader sister had retreated inwards into herself.

Doubt had begun filling Blossom when she realized the condition they were in - the condition Bubbles was in. The entire city was against them, they were running out of energy, they were injured, outnumbered and outgunned. Blossom's mind wandered, thinking back to happier times as if a defensive mechanism, as if to find strength in the past.

Her life this year flashed before her eyes: How things calmed down in the beginning, how she had spent precious weeks living almost like a normal kid, how things began to spiral, ever so slowly and painfully, out of control. How her family and the Morbucks' had a falling out, how they were ravaged by Mister 'fuzzy' Lumpkins, how Bubbles became addicted to His Secret 2.0 and nearly destroyed the family, how they had gained a new sister, Bunny, only for her to die after living a short and miserable life of servitude, suffering and ostracization, how their victory parade was ruined with them nearly killed in it, how they were all tricked into helping the bad guys and becoming their lackeys, and how the entire city had been turned against them, and in the process, how her dearest Dad was killed…

NO, Blossom decided. She wasn't going to stop here, she wasn't going to get help. It's going to end right here, in this mansion, even if it meant dying in the end.