Welcome all, back again.

I have decided to post the second chapter early as it's more comprehensive and gives more of window into what this story will encompass.

It's also highly entertaining:) Also moving forward, I will be using a song lyric from a notable punk/rock song to signify the theme of the upcoming chapter. I plan to include some serious classics.

Also I realized I made a slight error in the last chapter. I referenced the DC multiverse in the wrong update XD you'll soon figure out what I mean.

Without further ado, enjoy the story!

"Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place? Like somehow you just don't belong and no one understands you?" -Simple Plan, Still Not Gettin' Any, 2004

Chapter 2. Welcome To My Life

Lunch had always been the favorite part of the day for Bubbles Utonium.

Learning about math and stuff was good and all. But the blonde much preferred social interaction- talking, laughing, discussing the latest gossip. High school didn't offer recess like in the old days so sitting down at a table in the cafeteria with your friends provided the next best option.

She didn't share a lunch hour with her sisters. But several of her friends on the cheer squad, including Robin Snyder, were around to make up for it.

"So, how's the first day going, girls?"

"Please, Miss Woodson spent the entire history period lecturing us about how this is the most important year of our lives. What does history have to do with any of that?"

Jenna Motz. An unapologetic brunette, blue eyed, freckled and slim figure. A classic stereotypical California girl minus the sun kissed skin and blonde highlights.

"Come on, Jenna. Even you're not that dumb. College? SATs? Any of that ring a bell?"

Being a longtime friend, next door neighbor, and a second in command on the team, Robin often served as a voice of reason between the squad members and often played the straight man in contrast to Bubbles' natural cheer and unending positivity.

"Yeah, yeah," Jenna groaned while sticking out her tongue. "I'm much more concerned about the upcoming opener against Fresno."

"And show up those dirty skanks the minute they step foot on our field," Ashley Armstrong, a vivacious darker brunette with green eyes, a long ponytail and a white halter top added with a somewhat sinister smile.

"I heard they do a serious amount of coke over there," Gabriella Munoz added with a dramatic whisper as though mentioning it openly might cause multiple police officers to burst in unexpectedly.

Bubbles figured it was time to step in. Sometimes gossip and rumor tended to dominate conversation too much for her liking.

"Girls, don't worry. Let's focus on ourselves and make sure the school gets the best version of the Townsville cheer squad ever."

"And keep in mind Jenna, you have to at least maintain a C in order to stay on the squad. That's the third letter of the alphabet in case you forgot," Robin sassed and got a middle finger in return.

"I already have some ideas for some new routines," Bubbles informed them brightly. "Even drew them out in my sketchbook."

"You're the best at making them. I can't wait to see what you come up with this year!" Gabriella gushed.

"Awww, stop."

"Actually, Bubbles…I was wondering if you could let me tumble for the first few routines," Jenna asked hopefully, a small flush of pink creeping appearing on her cheeks. It was a tad uncharacteristic for a person who's disposition reminded Bubbles of her ravenette older sister.

"Oooo is it about Benny Santiago? The cute tight end who you're always looking at?"

"Oh, my God. Shut up, Ashley."

"It is, isn't it? Robin teased, getting in on the action. "Are you hoping to catch his eye while he catches a pass?"

"More like catch feelings," Bubbles said with a giggle. Jenna could be a bit rough on the edges, but she meant well. "Don't worry, you can lead the first few cheers."

"Thanks, Bubbles!"

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Robin whispered to the side so only Bubbles' superhearing could pick up on it. "You're usually the tumbler for a reason. What with the superpowers and invulnerability if you slip or fall."

"I'm right here," Jenna sassed, crossing her arms.

"Bullshit, you didn't hear a word I said."

"Please, if it wasn't about me you wouldn't have tried whispering it to Bubbles. Everyone knows she has superhearing."

"It's fine, Robin," Bubbles said with a smile and taking a sip of her apple juice. "I don't mind."

The brunette shrugged half heartedly.

"Alrighty then. What the captain says goes."

Though technically an upperclassman, the blonde Puff had been named the leader of the team over the summer. Upon receiving the letter from her coach, she'd jumped through the roof with excitement scaring Blossom so badly she came flying downstairs out of fear there might be an attack. It was the first time in a decade a non-senior had been named Captain and it filled her with great joy.

"Remember to order the uniforms on time this year," Ashley said to Gabriella in the same manner a countess might demand of a maid (she was a sophomore and recently named to varsity for the first time). "Last year Hartley got so pissed. And apparently the skirts were half an inch too short…like that matters."

"Easy," Robin countered. "Already took care of it. Hartley won't have an excuse to yell at us."

"I also redesigned the logo and font!" Bubbles said excitedly, flipping through her sketchbook.

"Whoa!"

"You drew that?"

The purple and gold gave a pleasant contrast between cool and warm colors. The logo (a blonde prospector holding a pick ax) sat on each side of the sleeves with the black Arabella font gracing the chest. Gold trimming adorned the edges of the top. The skirt, while pleated, also allowed for maximum flexibility when kicking kicks, cartwheels, or other difficult exercise.

"I came up with it while I was washing the car over the summer!" she told them brightly.

"That's incredible," Robin said in awe. "I can't believe you convinced Ms. Hartley to make the change. She hates change."

"I know how to get on people's good sides. Even the crabby ones."

Gabrielle looked at the drawings and continued to admire them.

"It's certainly way better than the football team. They've been wearing the same uniforms since 1989. In fact-"

A loud *bang and the sound of crashing double doors made the entire cafeteria jump. The commotion signaled the arrival of half a dozen very large boys all wearing letterman jackets. Timberland boots stomped and squeaked, the smell of body Axe mixed with the aroma of cheap cafeteira cuisine, and a foreboding sense of male ego permeated the room.

"Right on time," Robin said with barely suppressed revulsion.

The group of boys, almost all juniors and seniors, strutted their way through the lunchroom with the confidence of peacocks showing off a special tail feather. Loud, boastful, and unapologetic they quickly took over the room as if it were their personal kingdom.

"Sup fuckers."

"Yo, where are the chicken nugs?"

"Dude, first lunch is the best. I'm starving."

Bubbles frowned in disapproval. She enjoyed the company of many people, the antics of the football team was not one of them. Of course, most of those boys were acting that way simply to impress each other or worse…girls.

It's like this every year

She'd known most of them since elementary school and deep down most of them weren't bad people despite their less than savory reputations. A motley collection of the insecure, ignorant, and arrogant who took more pride in tossing a ball than truly enjoying life.

"Hey, Mikey! Catch!"

Nate Rodgers, the wiry Quarterback with a cannon arm stole an orange from one of lesser popular tables and hucked it halfway across the room. Instead of landing in the hands of wide receiver Mike Parisi, it smacked a freshman girl on the head. This caused a series of moronic guffaws and chuckles among the rest of the team.

"Don't pay them any attention," Gabriella said with a sigh.

"They're kind of hard to ignore," Robin said sourly.

"So what? They're just being dumb boys," Jenna said with a half hearted shrug. "Anyway, speaking of boys, got your eye on anyone, Bubbles? Whatever happened to that theater kid you were dating last year?"

But Bubbles was only half listening. Her eyes trailed over the only member of the football team she truly feared. One who shared hair and eye color.

When it came to dealing with the Rowdyruff Boys, Bubbles symbolized the middle ground in between her older sisters. Blossom remained obsessed with slapping Brick in handcuffs, Buttercup ignored Butch's attempts to grab her attention. When it came to Boomer, Bubbles maintained a watchful eye but preferred to keep a healthy distance. Of course, sometimes that was impossible.

"Hey Boomer, isn't that Alan Nerd?"

Alan Heard, every parent's wet dream and a teenager's nightmare. A glasses wearing, D&D Master with just the right touch of awkwardness, baggy clothes, and a bowl haircut. One of many students on the lower end of the social totem pole unfairly targeted by the jocks. The poor boy tried to make himself small to no avail. A large Timberland booted foot thundered on the seat next to him.

"You got the stuff?"

Boomer's physique uniquely suited the ideal linebacker- broad shouldered, a towering six foot three, and a chiseled physique barely hidden under the purple and gold letterman jacket. HIs presence was usually enough to make anyone tower, especially those who couldn't fight back. Then again, only one person in the room could truly fight back. It infuriated the blonde Puff.

Trembling slightly, Alan reached into his lunch bag and pulled out a ham and cheese sandwich with a bag of barbeque potato chips. Boomer immediately began scarfing it down.

"You got the right flavor this time," Boomer said through a muffled mouth of sandwich, taking said chips. "And don't forget to get your friend Dexter to do my algebra II."

"N-No problem."

"Earth to Bubbles?"

Bubbles temporarily switched back her attention to her own group.

"Oh umm…not really. Liam and I broke up at the beginning of the summer. He's sweet but he wanted to go to New York to do an acting internship. Just couldn't make it work long distance…"

"Hey Boomer! Do that thing you do!"

"Come on, dude! We wanna see it!

At the urging of his teammates, Bubbles watched anxiously as Boomer hesitated. For a brief flash he avoided immediately giving into the peer pressure.

If he's going to do what I think he's going to do…

Too late. The blond Ruff turned around and began contorting his face, crinkling the nose, snorting up a storm. This went on for about ten disgusting seconds before he unleashed a loogie so powerful it may have cracked the speed barrier. The good news was that the putride projectile (narrowly) missed hitting anyone. The bad news meant it hit the wall, splattering all over anyone within a nearby vicinity. To add insult to injury, Alan's table caught the worst of the blast.

A collective cry of revulsion sent a shockwave undeniable to a person with superhearing. At this point, Bubbles had long since stopped listening to Jenna's opinions on her love life.

"You need to branch out a bit more, girl. Why not date someone on the football team? You're literally the only one who hasn't. Sure they're a bunch of idiots of sometimes but a couple of them are so hot-"

She sprang into action, zipping in front of Boomer hands on her hips in disapproval.

"Boomer Jojo! That is not nice!"

At only five feet six inches tall, the disparity between their heights surpassed that of Brick and Blossom. But neither flinched from the other's gaze.

"You got boogers on half the lunchroom. And you stole Alan's lunch!"

Boomer ran a hand through his straw like blonde hair and gave a noise of derision.

"I'm sorry," he said, popping a handful of chips in his mouth. "Do you want it back?"

Bubbles recoiled as he stuck out his tongue with the half chewed contents still inside.

"Ewww!"

She could hear the rest of football team laughing stupidly at the crude gesture. But it didn't embarrass her as much as the immaturity of the Rowdyruff Boy himself. And the rest of the poor souls who had to deal with said lack of maturity, especially having been on the receiving end of one those infamous loogies.

"Why are you so mean?!"

Her light blue sundress fluttered as she punctuated the sentence and twelve years of history along with it. Truth be told, the Puffs and Ruffs had not engaged in real fight in over three years, their enmity having softened down to casual rivalry and reluctant tolerance. That did not erase the past.

A kernel of anxiety churned in Bubbles' stomach. She knew what he and his brothers were capable of and how they'd injured her and her sisters countless times. It clashed with her otherwise forgiving nature. And oh how she wanted to. People were inherently good. So how come Boomer wasn't?

The blonde kept her composure as her baby blues never left cobalt ones. She wasn't chicken. She wouldn't be ruled by fear. Especially not from the towering big meanie causing all the trouble.

I'm not a crybaby

She waited for him to respond and noticed something peculiar. Boomer lacked the permanent smirk of Brick or the hair trigger impulsiveness embodied by Butch. Something different lurked behind those eyes and it pulled on the strings of her heart. He opened his mouth to say something but was suddenly cut off by another loud *bang.

"What in the blue blazes is going on here?"

The old Jewish librarian, Mrs. Singer, had arrived. Dowdy, gray haired, and permed, she carried even less tolerance for teenage antics than Miss Keene.

"This place looks like a troop of baboons came through! Who is responsible for this mess?!" she bellowed.

Immediately almost everyone in the cafeteria pointed their fingers at the football players, Boomer included. No one felt inclined to defend them.

"Bullshit! We didn't do nothing!"

"They started it!"

"Man, I've never even seen an orange."

Their pleas fell on deaf ears…almost literally since Miss Singer was hard of hearing to begin with.

"You all sound like baboons too," she grunted. "You and the rest of the meatheads are cleaning this up now…including the giant spitball Mr. Jojo was so kind enough to share on the first day back. And then you'll be serving detention this afternoon."

"Mrs. Singer we can't there's practice today!"

"What?"

"There's practice today."

"What?"

"There. Is. Practice. Today!" Nate Rodgers emphasized loudly.

"Shoulda thought of that beforehand, sonny boy. I know a Rowdyruff shitshow when I see one. I'll be informing Coach O'Connell."

The players groaned and some of them shot dirty looks towards their squealers. Bubbles couldn't help but notice Boomer was not one of those who silently vowed revenge. He grunted before snagging a rag thrown to him by one of the many pissed off cafeteria ladies while she in turn began assisting those hit by the nasty snotrocket, using her powers while Mrs. Singer wasn't looking to remove the gunk.

She returned to a relatively subdued table with Jenna looking particularly sheepish.

"Does that answer your question why I don't date anyone from the team?"

Robin reached over and squeezed her hand in support.

"I'm sorry you have to deal with him."

Bubbles felt more sympathy for those who didn't have the ability to fight back than for herself, but nevertheless shook off the negativity. She wasn't going to let Boomer ruin her mood.

"It's okay. I'm fine."

She put on a believable smile and the rest of the lunch period was spent talking about mundane school topics.

Regardless of her opinion on the Rowdyruff Boys, you couldn't deny it was an eventful first day.


Buttercup sat in the dinky old gym, due to be renovated in the summer before their senior year, teetering on the edge of insanity due to incomprehensible boredom.

"Welcome back, students. Welcome back."

The husky voice of Principal Bickerstaff boomed through the clunky microphone he clutched in his thick, sausage-like hand against the backdrop of a large stereo monitor in the middle of the gym. A wide, barrel chested man with a ruddy face and small, beady blue eyes, Bernard Bickerstaff meant well but usually delegated most administrative tasks to his Vice Principal. His role was largely limited to personnel and morale and everyone knew it.

School pride in other words

The ravenette hated these little educational boondoggles. They never held any interest for her and covered one of three topics- sports, test scores, or some pointless school initiative like spirit week.

"Now I promise not to keep you long. I know you all are dying to get back to your classes…"

Somebody yawned in response.

"...but I wanted to gather you here today to give a little update on some exciting things happening this year at Townsville High."

"Here we go," she muttered to herself. "Ugh, I wish I were doing anything else."

She sat in the upper section beside Bubbles and to her left were Mitch Mitchelson, Mike Believe, and Pablo Hernandez. Her sister tried to give a bit of cheer.

"Come on, Buttercup. These assemblies aren't that bad. Maybe try a little school spirit?"

"Sorry, I'm fresh out."

The three boys snickered with Mitch miming a violent false gunshot to the head which earned him a light whap on the head from Bubbles. Buttercup laughed, however. She always laughed at Mitch's antics.

"We also have to support Blossom, remember?"

"Why? Being head of the student council doesn't actually mean anything. It's just a dumb, ceremonial position to make an impression they give a shit-"

Bubbles frowned but said nothing as Principal Bickerstaff continued.

"This agenda promises some truly exciting prospects for our school. And I'd like to thank everyone in the room, faculty, staff, and students for making it all possible."

Buttercup blew a tiny raspberry. This bumbling clown made the former Mayor look competent. At least he was somewhat entertaining.

"I bet I can predict everything this guy is gonna say before he says it," she whispered to Mitch.

"I'll take that bet," he grinned back.

"First he's going to talk about football: Ladies and gentleman, we have an exciting team this year…"

"Ladies and gentleman, we have an exciting team this year," Bickerstaff repeated verbatim. "And we're in a unique position to win the state championship. We made the semifinals last year and I'm pleased to announce sixteen returning starters from that group including three very special players: Quarterback Nate Rodgers, Offensive Tackle Harry Pitts, and Running back Jalen Davis. Let's give them a round of applause."

The three players in question stepped forward, looking quite smug about their recognition. Nate did not look as though he knew what the word 'detention' meant. The clapping was enthusiastic on the right side of the bleachers where the rest of the team and other athletic teams were seated, including several whoops and hollers.

Idiots

"Next on the list of items-"

"-make sure to study good and hard for the SATs. Especially you Juniors and Seniors approaching college."

"Make sure to study good and hard for the SATs. Especially you Juniors and Seniors approaching college. For the Freshman and Sophomores, be aware that CASPP testing will be during the second week of October."

Mike and Pablo gave impressed looks but Mitch ribbed her.

"Bet you can't get the last one. Five bucks."

"Spirit week and homecoming. What else?"

"And lastly I want everyone to get excited for our annual spirit week. This event takes place during the fourth week of September leading up to the Upperclass Homecoming dance and our third football game to be played against our crosstown rivals, the Citiesville Citizens!"

There was a bigger round of applause this time, one shared by most of the student body as opposed to the jocks. Buttercup did not share the enthusiasm, instead holding out her hand expectedly. Mitch soured and handed over the money, which she took with relish.

"Thank you. Hello entry fee for tonight's show."

"Please, you're a girl. You never pay to get into anything," Pablo pointed out.

"Wait, Buttercup's a girl? That's news to me."

That earned Mitch a playful punch in the shoulder, which he rubbed sorely. A love tap from a Powerpuff still stung for an average human.

"Ow."

"Suck it up ya baby."

"You can bench press a building."

"I know. You're still a baby."

What she and Mitch had wasn't necessarily flirting, it also wasn't necessarily not flirting. Buttercup didn't specialize in sappy socialization. And besides, that ship sailed a long time ago. Being a girl required a person to be perfect. The Toughest Fighter refused to become enslaved to a vapid, false version of what someone her age was "supposed" to be.

"Buttercup, hush! Sissy is coming on!" Bubbles chided.

Speaking of perfect

"And now boys and girls, I'd like to introduce our recently elected President of the Student Council to speak more about our upcoming Homecoming dance and future events. Please welcome the one and only, Commander and Leader of the Powerpuff Girls, Blossom Utonium!"

The loudest cheers of all rang out. Reserved unabashedly and totally for her overachieving, popular older sister. Buttercup figured she ought to be used to this by now but something about all of that adoration felt like pouring lemon juice in a nasty paper cut. Boys wanted her, girls wanted to be her (some felt just as strongly as the boys). It didn't matter that she was the most straight laced, rule abiding, sanctimonious person on the planet. People loved Blossom Utonium. The Green Puff had been keenly aware of this fact since the day they were born.

The Commander and Leader. The beautiful redhead. Little miss perfect.

Suddenly, Buttercup didn't feel like partaking in this assembly anymore.

"Cover for me," she told Bubbles and Mitch over the noise as she began slipping away underneath the bleachers.

"What? Buttercup, you can't leave."

"Pretty sure I can."

"Where are you going?" Mitch asked.

"Anywhere but here."

She slipped away just as the crowd settled down and Blossom began speaking.

"Thank you everyone. Thank you Principal Bickerstaff. I'm so pleased to have been elected your Student Council President and I look forward to fulfilling that responsibility to the best of my power. I'd like to use this time to talk about the Homecoming dance. Who's excited?"

"Not me."

Buttercup cautiously touched the ground using flight to steady herself and began to tiptoe around the bleachers into a back room mainly used for storing old, outdated gym equipment. It was also the gateway to a backdoor exit that only a handful of students knew about. The trigger alerting the emergency fire system had short circuited years ago and no one bothered to inspect if it still worked. This in turn led to an area outside of the gymnasium which bordered the school's loading dock and trash disposal.

In other words, an area teachers never checked or didn't look for students.

"Finally," she muttered as she creaked open the back door. It wasn't the first assembly she'd skipped nor would it be the last. Bubbles always advised to stay and power through but today proved too much to bear. She could punch a monster in the face and chuck it into deep orbit no problem. High school bullshit? Hard pass.

Her skiving would not bring the sought out relief, however. For someone else had beaten her to the punch. The last person on the planet she wanted to see.

"Well, well, well. Will you look at that? A puff all in a huff."

Butch Jojo stood on the edge of the platform grinning far too widely for someone who just spotted their worst enemy. But then again, no one could accuse the green Rowdyruff of being rational.

"Get out of here. This is my spot."

Butch, who was smoking a cigarette prior to her arrival, took a drag and jumped straight down from the loading dock.

"I don't see your name on it."

That stupid, unrelenting grin never left his face which pissed off Buttercup to no end. From the moment of his inception he seemed to exist for that very reason. Teasing, poking, prodding, anything to set off the Toughest Fighter's infamous temper.

"I've been coming to this place since 9th grade. It's where I go to get a little peace and quiet. Now, I won't ask again. Move or else."

Butch shrugged as though her threat didn't register at all and took another drag of the cigarette held in his right hand.

"Bold words. Perhaps you'd like to fight me for it. Fair and square?"

Buttercup's fists trembled as the desire to deck him straight in the nose increased with each passing second. It was precisely the reason why after all these years, she tended to avoid her counterpart at all costs. He knew how to get underneath her skin. He knew exactly the right buttons to push. Because unlike most people who knew Buttercup Utonium, Butch wanted to fight. He lived for it.

And I'm the only one who can give him that fight

"You're an idiot," she said with as much ridicule as possible, regaining control of her temper. "I'm not about to get suspended on my first day back."

"So in other words you can't back up all that talk."

"You know I can."

"Then go ahead. Hit me," Butch said with relish, stepping forward and offering up the left side of his face. Still, Buttercup refrained.

"Or maybe, there's another reason why you hold back."

"You're too stupid to play the role of Hannibal Lecter, Butch. Now fuck off, or go shakedown another gas station. I don't care which."

Butch threw the cigarette to the ground and quickly lit up another one.

"Maybe you're not the fighter you used to be. Maybe you somehow lost the desire…"

He stepped closer, emerald orbs peering down from his lanky, six foot two frame.

"...or maybe you're just another insecure teenager who can't hack it in high school."

"That's rich coming from the biggest delinquent in this whole town."

"Nah, I'm supposed to be bad. It's what I do," he countered acutely. "You on the other hand…you're a Powerpuff. The Toughest Fighter. What has you running from a bunch of pimple-faced teenagers?"

"Shut up, Butch."

Her fists again clenched again, this time to the point where her nails dug into her Chemical X laden skin. Blood boiled and knuckles cracked in anticipation. She'd almost gotten into a fight with him earlier in the parking lot and avoided it. But there was no Miss Keene or any teacher around to intervene. Just the two of them.

Don't do it, Buttercup. It's what he wants. He's trying to suck you in

"Touched a nerve? I'd feel the same way if I had Blossom for a sibling. I bet it hurts knowing every guy thinks she's smoking hot and every college wants to give her money. That's a lot of attention not coming your way."

"Shut up, Butch," she snarled through her teeth.

It did nothing to deter the green Ruff, who's manic grin reappeared knowing he'd successfully cracked her armor. Taking another drag, this time he blew the smoke straight in her face.

"Is that it then? Because Blossom will disapprove? Another in a long line of reasons why people love her and ignore you. That must really suck-"

In nanoseconds Buttercup grabbed Butch and slammed him against the back wall, fist raised mere inches from his face.

The Ruff made no move to struggle with her hand still clutching the outlines of his black, leather jacket. He continued to grin like a kid in a candy store.

"That's the Buttercup I remember."

"Keep running your mouth and I'll crack your head so hard you won't even remember how to eat properly, much less my name."

Butch's eyes began glowing green as that smile grew wider.

"Go ahead. Make my day."

Buttercup's raised fist began crackling with raw, green power preparing to strike a blow so deadly he'd regret ever messing with her. The tiny part of her rationality screamed not to do it, that Butch actively sought to fight, but was drowned out in a sea of primal anger and fury.

Fuck Butch. Fuck everybody.

He deserved it. He deserved everything he had coming and more for all the shit he'd pulled and the people he'd hurt…most of all her. What was the harm in blowing off a little steam?

Then the bell rang, loud and clear for all to hear. Green power subsided and the threat of Puff/Ruff armageddon dissipated for the moment. But only for the moment.

"Nice catching up with ya, Butters," Butch continued to taunt in that infuriating tone he used. "See ya around."

He flew off around the building and out of sight, disregarding the 'no powers' rule completely, which all the supers did at one point or another when it suited them. What Miss Keene didn't know wouldn't hurt her. But a full blown melee between two super powered teenagers on school grounds? That line couldn't be crossed.

And I almost allowed myself to lose it. All because he's so good at pissing me off

Buttercup supposed she'd best head back to class before a teacher discovered her ditching or worse, Blossom found out about said ditching.

The thought of a lecture from little miss perfect twisted the inlines of her stomach wall. She smashed her fist into the nearby dumpster, creating a giant hole in the metal.

"Fuck this," she muttered angrily.

She flew back inside to rejoin the nightmare known as high school.


Pencils and pens straight, papers organized, phone put away.

Mind alert, attention focused, brain prepared.

It was the creed Blossom followed for every class she took. Especially since those classes were AP level which required a high level of concentration and work ethic. As opposed to standard or even honors classes, which usually housed 25 or more students at a time, only around a dozen made the cut for this kind of coursework. So it made for a far more immersive experience, something she preferred.

"Good afternoon, class. I hope you all had wonderful summers."

Of course, having Miss Keene as your teacher was also an added benefit. She'd been an absolute favorite during elementary school and her promotion to high school made it that much sweeter.

Honestly, it's amazing the woman has time for anything

The Vice Principal had only accepted the role on the condition she be allowed to continue teaching classes separately. Her job as an educator always took precedent.

"With that being said I hope you all are up to the challenge of another year AP. I need not remind everyone that these classes are the most difficult both in terms of workload and material. I am always here for assistance but your ability to work collaboratively and independently will be key to achieving a high grade."

Picking up a set of papers, the forty two year old pulled her dark brown hair back into a bun before passing them out to each row of students.

"This is a basic curriculum of what we'll be covering for the year. We'll start with American poetry, short stories, cover the 19th Century before moving onto more contemporary writers."

Blossom took one, passed it along, and took a brief glance. Noting that Sylvia Plath was at the top of the list, she performed a silent backflip. Her poetry was simply divine.

"Now I know most of you are already familiar with each other but I see a couple of new faces so we'll do a quick introduction. We'll go around the room and say a few things about ourselves. Let's start with the front row."

She was the second one called upon, being in the middle and proudly introduced herself.

"Hello, everyone. Good to see you all again and hello to those I haven't met. I'm Blossom Utonium. I'm a junior, seventeen, as well as an aspiring actress, tutor, and tennis player."

A series of admiring nods and smiles followed. Being the leader of the Powerpuff Girls, there wasn't a soul in Townsville who didn't know her name. But she never tired of being a role model; a person they could count on no matter what.

Of course, as Newton dictated in his gravitational laws, for every reaction, every force, there must be an equal, opposite reaction. In other words, all superheroes had a nemesis.

"Brick Jojo. Junior. Seventeen. Resident societal menace. Aspiring garbageman."

Blossom inwardly groaned. Every year it was like this. The teacher would do roll call, everyone would answer normally…everyone except Brick who took a particular delight in his unique brand of contrarian trolling.

Miss Keane, thankfully, had grown used to such antics and knew how to counter them.

"Yes, thank you for enlightening us with that pithy introduction, Brick. It needs work, however."

Take that asshole

Blossom gave a sideways glance as the rest of the class chuckled. Her diamond pink eyes caught ruby red ones and gave a look of triumph to which he only regarded with pure cocky disdain.

"Moving onward. Now that we're all settled I'll briefly go over the syllabus then we will start with a series of poems. Feel free to take notes as you please."

Blossom dutifully and set aside her personal dislike of Brick Jojo for now. Academics mattered far more than supervillains.

As she began jotting down paraphrased versions of her teacher's lecture, the mind steadily wandered back to the subject of her longtime enemy.

Last chance, Puff. Move or I'll make you

Their interaction in the school parking was a perfect microcosm of their relationship. Brick was everything she wasn't: aggressive, egoistic, insensitive, violent, destructive, and wholly unconcerned with anything that failed to directly benefit himself. The contrast didn't bother her as much as the idea that he continued to walk free. All the other villains- Him, Fuzzy, Sedusa, The Gangreen Gang, etc. had either broken up, disappeared, or been sentenced to lengthy prison stays.

Buttercup and Bubbles didn't take the Rowdyruff Boys as seriously as she did because well…they'd been downgraded into a public nuisance similar to the status the Gangreen Gang once held. Brick, Butch, and Boomer's reputations had since diverged but they still shared a penchant for small time crime: petty theft, smash and grabbing gas stations, graffiti, vandalism, sprinkled in with a few assaults here and there. All minor transgressions cops tended to ignore or not give high priority to. And besides, even if they did, only one group of people existed on the planet powerful enough to actually do anything about it. Which inevitably led back to square one.

My sisters are too preoccupied with boys or partying than keeping the city safe

No, that wasn't fair. They cared. They'd sacrificed their very childhoods just as she had to ensure Townsville not only became a better place but stayed that way. The only difference was that Blossom's watchful eye never ceased. Duty came before everything. And just because the Rowdyruff Boys played a little less 'rough' didn't mean they were any less dangerous. Some might be inclined to forgive them, but how could anyone grant clemency to such barbarism?

Besides, deep down Brick retained every bit of hatred expressed and felt when they were children. She was sure of it. As certain as a bird with the intrinsic desire to fly south for the winter.

Of course, a more practical reason existed.

"Mojo…Mojo…wake up!"

"He's gone…there's nothing we can do."

"But, but, what happened?"

"No, this isn't happening…Mojo! Mojo! MOJO!"

"Blossom?"

Miss Keene's concerned voice cut through the flashback. The redhead realized she'd temporarily forgotten herself.

"You look a little dazed, sweetheart. Is something the matter?"

"No, no Miss Keene. My apologies."

"Quite alright, dear. I was just going to ask if you wanted to read part of our first poem 'Full Fathom Five' by Sylvia Plath."

Blossom, recovering her focus gladly obliged. She read the beautiful words, laced with so much passion and inner turmoil. The emotional whirlwind this woman faced day after day, my God. She pictured each line in her head as Julie Bean read the next stanza, followed by Yolanda Sanchez.

Upon finishing, Miss Keene asked them all what they thought of the poem and Blossom did not hesitate to gush in approval.

"Her use of language is second to none. It's not just the emotion but how she conveys it. That's the true power of her poetry."

"A true artist."

"It's especially amazing for her era. In an age where men hogged most of the spotlight."

One noticeable voice dissented.

"Please, your hero worship is nauseating."

Brick sat back in his desk, legs propped up, arms behind his head. He'd plucked out a toothpick from somewhere and looked as leisurely as one might at a day spa.

"Oh? Enlighten us, master of poetry," Blossom mockingly interjected.

"I'll do you one better: Sylvia Plath was a depressed headcase with daddy issues who belonged in a drooling academy."

"She was abused by her father! That's so reductive!"

"The woman literally wrote a poem called 'Daddy'."

"One of the most widely acclaimed pieces of literature of all time."

"If I want to read poems from a mental fruitcake, I'll go with Hemingway. At least he's interesting."

"Ah, yes. Because drunken, emotionally damaged men are so much more valuable than their female counterparts."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"Enough!"

Miss Keene had been struggling to get in a word edgewise and did not look the slightest bit pleased at her class devolving into a petty argument among supers. Especially when that argument could potentially blow up half the school.

"Blossom, Brick. We go through this exercise annually and I for one am running out of patience. I do not want to repeat myself again. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Miss Keene," Blossom dutifully replied.

Brick gave no answer and twisted his cap to the side. But he did not challenge her.

"Good. Brick, you will see me after class. Now let's move along…"

The rest of the class went on without incident, but Blossom was not prepared to let it go. At least, not under the eye of a teacher. Normally averse to breaking rules, the Commander and Leader felt a compelling need to send a message loud and clear.

When Brick exited his presumed scolding from Miss Keene, written warning in hand, she was waiting for him.

"I suppose you think you're just so clever."

Brick adjusted his trademark red hat, which clashed mightily with his long, shoulder length orange locks. Everything about him seemed to reek of crimson arrogance, from the checkered flannel right down to the blood colored converse high tops he sported. The sneering, loathing way he addressed her only confirmed as much.

"It's a gift. Something I'm sure you envy."

"The key word there was 'think'. I assure you there is nothing about you I envy."

"Anything you want Powderpuff? I have places to be."

Blossom neither flinched nor moved a muscle as she directed her next statement clearly and without hesitation.

"I don't know why everyone, including my sisters, seems to have forgotten how awful you were and still are. I don't know how you're in AP classes every single year when it's clear you couldn't care less about school. And I don't care if it takes me a lifetime, but I will arrest you and ensure Townsville is safe from the Rowdyruff Boys once and for all."

She meant every word. And despite misgivings about their shared past, Blossom Utonium's primary concern always lay with the people she was born to protect. Brick stood against that goal. Hero vs. Villain. Good vs. Evil. Fire and Ice.

Her counterpart gave just the slightest flicker of annoyance. That her constant dogooding posed a threat to his endless anarchy and antisocial behavior. Most people feared Brick's infamous temper which had the capacity of igniting at any time.

Yes, that flicker of flame could turn into a wildfire at the strike of a match. The flame danced about in those ruby red eyes as he regarded her threat. Until it went out.

"If you coulda, you woulda."

The same self satisfied smirk returned as he shifted his bag across his shoulder.

"But you haven't and that's all there is to it. Smell ya later."

Blossom's impeccable self control snapped ever so briefly in the form of a rather impulsive action. She grabbed Brick's arm and pulled him back.

"Don't underestimate me, Ruff."

There it was. She'd played with fire and now the fire began to burn as his arm became increasingly hot. But ice cooled heat. A tense battle of elements began.

"Consider yourself lucky I'm too busy with other things to burn this place to the ground, Puff," he snapped back. He sent a jolt of energy through his arm and she pulled back in pain. A ball of pure red flame danced in the palm of Brick's outstretched hand, a warning to anyone who dared to tangle with The Bludgeoner.

"We're not allowed to use powers in school."

"Who fucking cares? You may think everyone is hanging onto your every word, Puff. But me?"

Brick turned the handwritten note from Miss Keene in his left hand to ash.

"I tune it all out."

He walked off without another word and she reminded herself that approaching Brick like that carried its own set of potential expectations and consequences. But far from feeling intimidated it only made her that much more fixated on removing him as a public menace forever.

Blossom Utonium kept her promises. She had everything planned out. That's what a leader did after all.


Meanwhile, on Earth -1, Viletown, USA

"I'm very disappointed in you girls."

The collective lazy expressions of Berserk, Brat, and Brute could have put a sloth to shame.

"What has gotten into you lately?"

Berserk yawned obnoxiously. Brat continued to text on her phone. Brute simply cracked her knuckles one by one. Sitting around at the kitchen table, they were forced to endure yet another lecture.

"This is the third time this week you haven't tried to overthrow me or take over the world! I'm becoming seriously worried about the conduct of your character."

Oppressor Plutonium. Mad scientist, aspiring dictator, creator and father of three rotten little girls known as the Powerpunk Girls who were not so little anymore.

"Really? What do I have to do? I provide all of the evil education and training. World class resources other villainous children would give their organs to have. And this is the thanks I get?"

"Are you done?"

Berserk's droll response almost caused her dad to become apoplectic.

"Don't you sass me, young lady. As your elder, I will be shown proper respect and until you rise up and eliminate me yourselves…"

He turned one of the arms of his robotic suit into a machine gun turret for emphasis.

"...you will do as I say."

Berserk, a vivacious redhead with an attitude to match, could have torn him apart in a number of different ways: a blast of heat vision, a blast of cold blizzard wind, strangulation from the deadly ribbons decorating her back length hair. It would be easy. Too easy. Once upon a time, overthrowing Richard Plutonium and taking over the world was all she wanted. A challenge. Now? Not even worth the effort to smash that ridiculous overcompensating robot suit.

"Ugh, dad. Taking over the world is like…so boring," Brat complained, still not looking up from her phone. The blonde had little patience for anything except gossip, boys, and shopping.

"It is your destiny!" Plutonium thundered. "You cannot escape it!"

"I'd like to 'escape' this hellhold," Brute stated bluntly. "Maybe break a few things while I'm at it. Set it on fire. Who knows?"

"For once, I'd encourage you girls to think beyond mere vandalism and personal gain. There is a wide world just waiting to be conquered! Viletown is just the beginning!"

"And yet you haven't even managed that."

Berserk's barb was intended to cut deep. She had a special knack for it. Even now, a vein throbbed dangerously in her father's temple.

"Perhaps if you spent more time assisting me in defeating Jomo Momo and his blasted Rowdyright Boys, whom you've seen fit to cavort about with-"

Brute's temper snapped as she ripped off one of the evil Professor's robotic arms and crumpled it as though it were wrapping paper, then slamming him back into the drywall.

"Listen bucko, it's none of your goddamn business what we do with boys or anything else!"

Plutonium raised his second robotic fist as it morphed into a rocket launcher which prepared to fire. Berserk took care of it easily, smashing it to bits.

"Yeah, I don't think so."

Brat took care of the rest, incinerating the laser gun which appeared out from the back end of the suit with a shot of her blue energy. All without looking up from her phone.

Brute looked prepared to rip out the man's entrails but Berserk held her back, looking down imperiously at the man they reluctantly addressed as 'father.'

"That's more like it," he said, a feral smile spreading across his horrid goatee. "Now, finish me!"

The redhead feigned thinking about doing just that, popping a hip while tapping an acrylic nail to her cheekbone. It would be fun. They'd done a lot more evil for significantly less reward.

"Nah, I don't really feel like it."

Trembling with rage, Plutonium used the one ounce of power aside from his intelligence he still carried in an attempt to regain the upper hand, however futile. Brain over brawn did not apply.

"To your rooms! Now!"

"Like whatever, that's where we usually hang out anyway."

"Brat Sarah Plutonium, not another word. I don't want to hear a peep from you up there."

The Punks did as they were told but only because it gave them an excuse to get away from their father. In truth, their interest in potentially killing him was rooted in loathing and the desire to break away from the control he asserted over them. But even that seemed to have lost its luster.

He tries to anyway

For Berserk, Brat, and Brute Plutonium, they'd reached an entirely new stage of life: teenage apathy. It seeped into their skin as though it were a lethargic ooze depriving them of any real meaning beyond a standard, repetitive evil that they'd been engaged in for over a decade.

Their creator was suffocating. They were bored. Something had to give.


"Ugh, why is our dad such a loser?!" Brat complained upon flying into their room- almost the same as it was when they were little, except far more goth looking. Posters of emo bands, strewn mascara and eyeliner, chains, numerous black combat boots and Mary Janes dotted the macabre landscape.

"You're really asking why our dad is a loser?" Berserk asked sarcastically. "Newsflash: all dads are losers. This is nothing new."

"So why did you hold me back?" Brute snarled, taking out a burger and destroying the wrapper with a black energy blast.

"Because it's like I said. He's not worth it. And please refrain from putting more holes in our bedroom wall."

Brute gave an obnoxious leer.

"Who cares? I can fix it later."

"I do," Berserk shot back dangerously. "And unless you want to come up with another attempt at saying something clever, I suggest you shut your mouth before I nail it shut."

"Haha," Brat sneered, sticking out her tongue at Brute.

"That goes for you as well, you brainless harpy."

Berserk really hated her moronic, insufferable sisters sometimes which required an extra degree of control over them that took all of the fun she usually enjoyed exerting said control. Their respective problems were in the names- Brat and Brute. Snotty, spoiled and rotten. Mean, stupid, and bloodthirsty.

Feeling her own temper start to boil over, Berserk strolled over to the vanity table and began reapplying her eyeliner. It had been smeared accidentally when grabbing the Professor's rocket launcher. What a drag.

"Where did you get a burger anyway?" she asked Brute as she chomped down.

"Brooks bought it for me."

"Oh, brother."

"I'm not turning down a free meal. Didn't even have to steal it."

Brat gave an annoyed huff.

"Ugh, that reminds me. Beacon was supposed to pick me up in an hour to go to the mall. Now, I can't because I'm grounded."

"You both have superpowers," Berserk reminded her as she finished the wing. "Just bust out. It's not like the Oppressor can keep us here."

"Did you forget how much of a goodie goodie my boyfriend is?" Brat sassed. "He won't agree to go anywhere because 'parents know best'. How lame is that?"

"They're called the 'Rowdyright Boys'. What did you expect?"

"I dunno? Presents, free stuff, sneaking out after dark, something other than making out all the time!" she whined.

"So you're not getting any," Brute surmised with a nasty smirk. "No wonder you've been bitchier than usual. Did he give you the whole abstinent speech again?

"Bitch, I don't see you and Brooks bumping uglies."

"Not that you know of."

"Will you two shut the fuck up?!"

Berserk's hair ribbon wrapped around each of their mouths, squeezing hard for about five seconds before letting them go.

"The hell was that for?!"

"Cease your incessant chatting," she reiterated, the cold edge to her voice growing icier by the second. "I'm thinking. And no, I don't care about your lack of a sex life, Brat," she added as her youngest sister was about to open her big mouth yet again.

"No fair," she pouted.

"It's not my fault I'm better at manipulating Blake into doing what I want than you two with your own boyfriends. That's beside the point."

"Then get to the point," Brute urged rudely but not before belching from the burger.

"Girls, it's clear that our current situation just isn't making the cut," she expounded with the authority of a teacher lecturing her class. "A dad who interferes with everything we do, boyfriends that obey the law and wouldn't know fun if it bit them in their round, perfect asses…I'd say it's time we sought out greener pastures."

"Like, how?" Brat asked stupidly.

"Yeah, the world already sucks," Brute agreed. "We've destroyed every major monument and building worth a fuck. The U.N. already has an arrest warrant on our heads."

"For once, I agree," Berserk said to her middle sister, a sinister smile overtaking her face. "Why bother with a world we've already ruined…"

She picked up one of their old toys, a simple model of the Eiffel Tower and crushed it easily.

"...when we can find another one to play in."

"And how do we do that genius?" Brute said skeptically as she flopped back on her green and black bed with skull covers. "There's only one earth, duh."

"You really are stupid as you are unimaginative, Brute."

Berserk had already come up with a solution while fixing her eyeliner but as always, it took her sisters far longer to see the bigger picture. No matter. It was amazingly simple and equally as brilliant. She stood up from the vanity table, walked over to the closet, and began rummaging.

"Like, what are you doing? You better stay away from my clothes, you're always stealing them," Brat warned.

"No, I don't," Berserk lied. "In any case, your clothes are not what I'm after."

With flair, she pulled out an oval shaped, dusty mirror, one that hadn't seen use in years.

"Our old vanity mirror? What are we going to do with that?"

"Clean it," Berserk deadpanned. "Good Lord, don't you two know what this is?"

When they both blinked stupidly, she sighed and elaborated.

"It's the mirror that leads us to that other dimension. The one with our do gooder counterparts."

"Oh, yeah!" Brat's face lit up in recollection. "I remember now. The Powerpuff Girls, they had such bad taste in outfits. Those dresses they wore? Ew."

"Why the fuck would we go to a place run by heroes?" Brute grumbled.

"So we can take over it, duh. Run things the way we want to. Even find some new boys to train…" Berserk added with a lustful smile. That especially got Brat's attention.

"Sex addict," the green Punk muttered. "And how are we supposed to use that mirror anyway? I don't even remember how we switched places with those wimpy Puffs the first time."

Berserk placed the mirror on the center of the vanity table, removing the newer one aside for the moment.

"It took me a long time to figure it out, especially after they tricked us the first time and we ended up being captured by Jomo Momo. But basically you have to create enough friction at the right frequency and the gateway to parallel universes opens. Watch."

She picked up a random gray sock off the floor and began rubbing down the mirror. Steadily she picked up the pace until her hand became a blur.

"Whoa."

A dazzling array of color began swirling inside the glass, coursing through like rainbow ripples in a pond.

"Why didn't you think of this before?" Brute asked absentmindedly as she stared deeply into the hypnotic mirror.

"It slipped my mind after we escaped Jomo's lair. But now we have a reason," came the cold, simple reply accompanied by a serpentine smirk. "And besides, we're long overdue for another visit."

The three punks touched the mirror and we're immediately sucked inside with a loud wind like noise as colors flashed and dazzled. An audible, low frequency hum echoed, rattling the beds and shaking the floors.

Until all went silent and the Powerpunk Girls were nowhere to be found. All that remained was an empty room.


Ooo boy...things are about to get really fun! ;)

As always please leave a review/feedback/comment. I always love receiving them!

Rock on!

~The Wasp