Storm
Trivia: Mrs. Cavadini's name comes from Blossom's voice actor, Cathy Cavadini. Aterex's name is the combination of the Latin words, ater meaning black and rex meaning king.
Note: Cryokinesis is the scientific(?) name for ice powers.
Random trivia pertaining to the story will be displayed up here hopefully every chapter.
Update (2/2/2020): Fixed some grammar, reworked some writing
Update (6/21/2020): Because I am a crazy person, I am going back and revamping the chapters AGAIN. So now corrected POVs, added some more background, and with a brand new ending scene đź‘€
Chapter 1: Lost and Found
The ruins of the once proud city of Townsville were all that she could see whenever she looked outside of her window. Well, that, and the distinctive dark castle and architecture that dominated the area around what had been City Hall. There a new city stood; smaller than what had been the Powerpuff Girls' home, but still a city. A city of death and darkness and blood, built in a futuristic, yet medieval way with spires and turrets, curved walls and a seamlessness that bordered on organic. It stood for everything that she now fought against; stood for what could happen to her.
The ruler of that city and of the world had taken over so easily. It was awe-inspiring and fear ensuing, how fast and easily he had conquered countries and continents. The army he had used had been huge, a literal planet's worth of soldiers, and they had taken out the other superheroes before crushing their city. Those heroes had been more skilled than she and her sisters. Sure, they had saved them once, but the supermen had had more experience. The Powerpuff Girls may have been superheroes, but they had only been children, only novices. They hadn't stood a chance.
Now, however, Buttercup was the leader of a band of rebels. And she wanted Aterex to pay.
She didn't remember when she learned the conqueror's name. She supposed that maybe someone from the Resistance had told her it once. All she needed to know was that Aterex was the number one suspect in Blossom's disappearance. And her sister had disappeared, not died. No matter what she had screamed at Bubbles those many years ago, she did not believe that Blossom was never coming back. All those patrols she did, all those missions to look for survivors not found by Aterex's army or the Resistance, Buttercup had been looking for her lost sister.
She had never found her.
But that didn't mean she was going to stop.
Clutching the coffee mug to her chest, the twenty-year-old ex-superhero looked blankly at the Resistance sergeant sitting at the kitchen table. She still wasn't sure why the headquarters for her rebellion was located above one of the entrances to the Resistance's tunnels. She also wasn't sure why she hadn't moved; then she remembered that while she was the leader, she still relied heavily on the matronly Mrs. Cavadini, who had taken care of her when she had run away from the Resistance.
Shaking her head, Buttercup pinched the bridge of her nose. She still didn't understand why the commanding officers of the Resistance felt the need to appear at all hours of the night, instead of a nice, normal hour like, say, one in the afternoon? When she was actually functional?
Blinking blearily, she took a sip of coffee before addressing the sergeant. "Butch, why the fuck did you wake me up when Harry was already awake at the computers?
Butch grinned widely at her, completely oblivious to her irritation. Typical. So was his lazy glance down her body, taking in a black T-shirt that was too big for her and her gray sweatpants. She ruffled her hair, uncaring since she had just rolled out of bed. His eyes glittered at the action and she scowled at him.
As if she would ever give him the time of day.
He leaned back in his chair, his uniform jacket open to expose the tight black shirt he wore under it. Well, if he got to look, Buttercup got to look too, even if she would deny it with the intensity of a thousand suns. Puberty had been very nice to the Rowdyruffs, after all. Eye candy was eye candy, annoying as he was.
"Because I just love you soooo much," he joked, cackling maniacally at her disgusted face. "Okay, truthfully? I thought you might want to hear what happened on our way back from the battlefield."
"I swear, if this is another tale of some twisted orgy or shit you did, Butch, so help me, I will choke you with your own trachea and use you entrails to dangle you from the rafters," she threatened, finally taking a seat across from her ex-archrival.
She slapped away the hand that was trying to swipe her mug, scowling at the pout he gave her. It was three in the morning. There was no way he was getting her coffee.
"No, no, nothing like that," he answered, waving his hand airily. He leaned forward conspiratorially, resting his head on his fist. "So, as I said, we were heading back from battle. We, of course, kicked their asses, but we had to retreat, Brick's orders. So, we're heading back and all of a sudden, we're ambushed, right? Completely took us off guard. Not to mention, the fucking Powerpunks were leading the charge."
Buttercup tightened her grip on her mug, reluctantly letting him ease it from her grasp a moment later when it audibly cracked. She hated those rip-offs almost as much as Aterex. Hell, she hated Aterex more than she did Butch and that was saying something. (Not that she exactly hated Butch anymore; they just had a…rough relationship nowadays, no pun intended.)
The sergeant gauged her expression before continuing. "So, yeah, the punks are leading the charge and we're pretty beat up from the previous battle. But before any shit can go down, this wall of ice appears out of nowhere and suddenly Berserk is blasting off somewhere. Then she comes back and shouts for a retreat."
Buttercup frowned. Wall of ice?
"That's it?" she asked, looking up at him.
He raised his eyebrows. "'That's it'? Is that all you have to say? I just gave you some evidence that your sister may be alive."
"There is no maybe, she is alive!" she snapped, slamming her fist down on the table.
The table gave a creak in protest, but stayed stubbornly together. It should, considering it weathered her abuse for six years.
She glared at him, thinking over what he just told her. Could Blossom be appearing now? After eight years?
"Could it have been her?" she mumbled, leaning back and wrapping her arms around herself. She didn't even react when Butch's eyes dropped to her chest. "Could it have been…?"
Butch looked out of his depth, his mouth twisted in an uncomfortable frown. Rubbing his neck, he looked away from her and she could have laughed. They were so similar when it came to emotions. Buttercup certainly didn't know how to deal with them, other than a good slap on the back, and Butch certainly refused to express anything other than feral bloodlust and mockery. Even if she did catch that awkward softness occasionally, she would bet her left foot that he would eat his own eyeballs before being mushy with anyone.
That was more so their blond siblings' fields. Or…it had been, in her case. Fingers tightened on her arms.
Butch heaved a sigh and the cheesy ass grin was back on his face. He even wiggled his eyebrows at her.
"It was a weird experience, anyway," he said, shrugging and taking a sip of her coffee. Immediately, he made a face and spat the coffee back into her cup. "Argh. How can you drink this!?"
"What? Black coffee with sugar?" Buttercup asked, pushing away the cup he had placed back in front of her. "Not all of us are coffee snobs, asshole."
"No wonder you have no fucking taste buds," Butch muttered, getting out of his chair. He crossed to the fridge and rummaged through it, pulling out a beer. "Ugh."
"Stop being a baby," she said, rolling her eyes. She guessed that his bitching was his way of making her feel better and she was kinda happy that he never tried being touchy-feely. One, she hated that and two, if he did do that, he wouldn't be Butch. "So you guys crashing for the night?"
"Technically, it's morning," he pointed out, the beer bottle close to his mouth. "But, yeah, we'll be crashing here for a bit."
"That 'for a bit' better be only eight hours," she said, standing. She stretched, yawning widely. "I'm hitting the hay. Thanks for the tidbit." She paused at the doorway of the kitchen and turned to her counterpart, eyes narrowed. "You stay in the main room. You even think of coming near my room, I will kill you."
He rolled his eyes and waved her off dismissively, taking a drink.
Not convinced, but too tired to argue, Buttercup walked out of the room. She waved at the soldiers that had practically collapsed about the old library. She felt sorry for them. Not many of them had been soldiers before the world went to hell. Most hadn't wanted to be in the army or any other military service, but, because of Aterex, many had joined the Resistance to save what little family they had left. Some had joined for the noble cause of retaking the Earth; others were forced.
She had never joined the Resistance; it wasn't because she didn't want to take down Aterex. She wanted to take him down even more than she had ever wanted to defeat Butch or Mojo or any of the other villains they had fought. No, she just didn't want to listen to anyone that wasn't Blossom.
She barely registered the fact that she had entered her room. Stumbling over to the bed, she collapsed into it and startled the other body there. She curled against his back, wrapping her arm around his waist.
"Mmm…what Butch want?" Mitch Mitchelson's slurred voice asked, rolling onto his back. Buttercup just grunted, snuggling closer. "Mmhm…"
She told her half-awake co-leader what Butch had said. "So he thinks that it may have been Bl-my sister…"
Mitch was silent and she briefly wondered if he had fallen back asleep when he answered.
"It sounds like it," he said, his eyes still firmly closed as she finally pulled the blanket over herself. "But we have to also take into account the aliens—"
"Have you ever seen any of them have ice powers?" she cut in, frowning against his chest. "I want it to be her, Mitch. I want it to be—"
He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "I know, BC, I know."
Buttercup's sigh shook as she closed her eyes tightly. She never could say Blossom's name ever since she had disappeared. Whenever she did, she felt her throat close tightly and the tears press against her eyes. Her sister's name had become the one thing that for sure could cause her to cry. That was why she never said it anymore, only referred to her as "my sister" or "her". Because of this, everyone around her stopped using Blossom's name as well.
She didn't know if they did it out of pity or just because they themselves had trouble, but she didn't mind that they stopped using it. However, a few people in the Resistance had the gall to use it towards her and make her say it. That was why she tried her best not to be present when it was Princess Morbucks getting updates from them. The report could have absolutely nothing to do with her and her sisters and the brat would still create a tangled reason for her to say Blossom's name.
Buttercup breathed in deeply, her mind going over what Butch had said. None of the aliens had ice powers. The creatures had almost all the powers that she, her sisters, and the ruffs had: flight, super strength, super speed, heightened senses, and heightened endurance. Besides that, though, she knew that they could control the elasticity of their bodies and become intangible for a limited amount of time. She had once fought an alien that had telekinesis, but it had shortly been decapitated before it could do much damage. (She still argued with Mitch over who had sliced the head off.)
From the stories of random Resistance soldiers, she knew that a lot of aliens had the ability to make psionic weapons like Boomer or else claws like Brat. (She felt herself frown in distaste as she thought the name of Bubbles' rip-off.) She knew that Boomer had once fought with an alien with terrakinesis, but from no one had she ever heard of an alien having cryokinesis.
So…maybe…
Maybe it was…
Her mind swirled even as she fell to sleep, even as she breathed a silent prayer.
The next morning, both rebel leaders found Butch's military unit still camped out in the main room.
Rubbing her temples, Buttercup sighed.
Mitch shared the sentiment. He just never would understand some things. Such was the strange need to hang around their headquarters longer than needed. Maybe it was some kind of dominance thing? Hell if he knew. All he did know was that it was annoying.
His partner immediately took the coffee he offered her and she pushed her damp fringe out of her face.
"So…" he began, sipping his own coffee. "It's eleven and they're still here."
Buttercup considered this before sighing.
"I did give him eight hours." She did the mental math, frowning. "And he arrived at three…so…his eight hours are basically up."
He snorted, shaking his head. Butch always did this whenever he came back from the field. He always lounged around until Buttercup forcefully kicked him into the tunnels. If Mitch didn't know any better, he would have said that Butch hung out longer than needed because of her, but, as it was Butch and the two green-eyed superhumans had a…weird relationship, put bluntly, he really doubted that was the case. Nevertheless, he couldn't help wondering since Butch dallied almost every single time he passed through the library.
Mitch took a sip of coffee to hide the frown on his face. He and Buttercup may only be just friends with benefits now, but he still was protective of her. After all, before any kind of romance, he was her best friend and the closest thing to family she had out here. Sure, the whole of the rebels was like a family, but his bond with Buttercup was special. He, Robin, and Mike were all special. The best friends of the Powerpuff Girls.
Whatever that meant anymore.
He watched as Buttercup disappeared into the kitchen. His eyebrows rose as he took another sip of his coffee, wondering what she was planning. Butch should know better about lazing about. After all, Brick was his superior officer and one would think the green ruff would remember just how wicked his elder brother could be. Then again, Butch had made an art out of poking the bear that was Buttercup, so maybe he was just a masochist. From the instances over the years that Mitch had seen, he was also an artist with poking a dragon so the thought had some merit.
Said puff shook her head as she grabbed a large pasta pot and filled it to the brim with ice-cold water. Her expression was flat as she walked out of the kitchen, balancing the pot on one arm and sipping her coffee with the other. He followed suit and rolled his eyes. So that was her game.
He dutifully held out his hand for her. She placed her mug snuggly into his palm and lifted off the ground. Their fellow rebels were finally catching onto what was happening, Kim hiding her snickers in the map she was going over and Lloyd dutifully spinning on his heel and retreating into the kitchen. The only witness to this beautiful event would be him, it seemed.
She floated over the soldiers until she located their commander. The few soldiers around Butch were given quick nudges to wake them up, the more stubborn ones giving Buttercup a glare. Once they realized that she was carrying a very large pot, though, they compliantly moved out of her way.
"Shouldn't you stop her?" one of the soldiers asked. She looked vaguely familiar, but at this point, all of the Resistance soldiers looked vaguely familiar.
Mitch lifted his left shoulder in a shrug, careful of Buttercup's mug. "She's just having some fun. This is their bonding time."
The soldier gaped at him. Must be a transfer then.
"A-Are you serious?" she stuttered.
"Yup." He nodded towards his partner and her sergeant. "You'll miss the show."
Towering over the prone Butch, a vindictive smile formed on Buttercup's face. Messing with Butch was one of the few pastimes that hadn't changed over the years (except for that beating-each-other-to-a-pulp-afterward part). She had told Mitch years ago that it was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself anymore. As long as it didn't involve beating each other black and blue and they could cooperate afterwards, he didn't care how she bonded with the ruff.
Still grinning like a mad woman, Buttercup nudged (read: kicked) Butch in the side. "Wakey, wakey, Butch~!"
A very guttural sound came from the Rowdyruff and a few soldiers made rather undignified noises. She merely raised her eyebrow and looked back at Mitch, who just shook his head. Poking the bear was her game and they had learned that Butch did not like being woken up after the first couple of times this had happened. He just raised his eyebrows back at her and sipped his coffee.
There was his permission.
It would be a nightmare to dry that carpet. He sighed at the thought.
She bit her lip, shoulders trembling from suppressed laughter. Impressively, not a drop of water fell from the pot in her arms as she turned back to the sergeant.
Butch was sprawled on his back, the scrap of fabric that served as his blanket tangled about his legs, limbs thrown about all helter-skelter. Buttercup slept exactly like that, one of the reasons that Mitch didn't often sleep in the same bed with her. It was hell waking up in the middle of the night to a fist slamming into his stomach.
His stomach muscles clenched at the memory.
"Seriously, Butch, wake up," she prompted, kicking Butch once more and again receiving a sleepy snarl. "Okay then…"
Without further ado, she dumped the pot of freezing water on top of him.
Mitch had one moment to wince before Butch screamed.
It was safe to say that almost all of the humans in the room nearly ruptured their eardrums, apparently Buttercup included. She rubbed a knuckle into her ear, eyes screwed up in pain. Mitch would like to do the same, but he was holding their mugs like the idiot that he was so instead he shoved the side of his head against the doorjamb. The wood did nothing.
He really should have seen that coming. This wasn't the first time Buttercup had woken the sergeant with a pot of water, but Mitch was always startled with just how high Butch's normally deep voice could get. According to Buttercup the first time it happened, he had literally almost reached sonic scream levels of high.
Mitch's eyes teared from the pain. He blinked rapidly to clear them when he saw Buttercup scowl. She still had her knuckle in her ear, the lucky bitch.
Through his ringing ears, he heard her growl, "Holy fuck, man! That fucking hurt!"
Butch rubbed his arms rapidly, dark green sparks flashing off as he tried to warm himself up. Too bad he didn't have Brick's fire. If Mitch's ears weren't still ringing, he would feel sorrier, but by this point, he had long gotten over any kind of pity for him.
"W-Well, i-it was y-y-your d-damn idea t-to dump ice cold water on me!" he snapped, teeth clacking together. "Fuck!"
"Oh, stop being such a baby!" she snorted, looking down at him. Her eyes danced maliciously as the ruff wiped water off his face.
"Seriously? Was that really necessary?" He looked highly offended and upset. There was even a pout on his face.
"Your eight hours are up," she responded flatly. "That means leave."
Butch frowned as he got to his feet. He then proceeded to shake himself like a dog, splashing her and everyone around them. Complaints erupted from the soldiers, but Buttercup only covered her face with a curse. He grinned cockily once done, arms crossed over his chest.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line, but her eyes were grudgingly amused. However, instead of commenting on his actions, she simply turned around and walked away. She took her mug back from Mitch, who sighed in relief and dug his knuckle into his ear. It would be ringing for the rest of the day, he was sure of it. If he didn't have tinnitus before, he probably did now.
As Buttercup took a sip of her coffee, he found himself looking towards Butch. The sergeant stared at his partner's back with a confused frown, his head slightly tilted to the side. Well, Mitch supposed that was fair. Buttercup usually had a quip or some kind of comment for the ruff whenever he did…well, anything, honestly.
Butch's story about the ice bothered her more than she was letting on, though. She had been quiet ever since they got up and even dumping water on her counterpart had lacked its usual flair.
The two men's eyes met, Butch still looking confused and Mitch simply rising an eyebrow. Maybe he would get it, realize that his story had hit Buttercup harder than she had let on, but from the frown that pulled down his face when he bent down, Mitch doubted it. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. You would think two people who were so similar would be able to read each other, but, well, he was pretty certain the two were too busy holding onto how each other was in the past to realize that both had matured.
Not that he blamed them. Sometimes that was easier.
"There anything I can pass onto the bossman for you?" Butch asked as he pulled on his jacket.
Buttercup paused by the entrance to the kitchen and looked back.
"To Brick? Or Mojo? No, nothing," she responded, turning around, but she didn't go into the kitchen. "Give the Professor and…and Bubbles my love, though."
Mitch mirrored Butch's surprise, staring at Buttercup as if she had spouted a new head.
Buttercup and Bubbles hadn't spoken to each since the green puff had run away. Hell, this was the first time Buttercup had even told Butch to give Bubbles her greetings. Had told anyone to pass on greetings to Bubbles.
The ice story must have really hit hard.
Mitch frowned and touched her shoulder. She stiffened under his hand.
Sounding dumbfounded, Butch asked, "Say that again?"
"Get the fuck out so I can go on patrol!" she snapped, waving her pasta pot threateningly and making Mitch lurch backwards.
Okay, soft Buttercup was gone now. He winced at Butch.
Putting his hands up in an 'I-give' fashion, the sergeant whistled for his unit to fall into line. The fifty-something soldiers immediately did so and they left through the basement doors.
Mitch watched them, before going into the kitchen. The kitchen was narrow, but long, fitting not only a double sink and two stoves and two ovens, but also a fridge and a stand up freezer. There were multiple cabinets and closets, filled with as much nonperishable food they could scavenge and what little they could barter from Farmsville. The table was a clunky fit in the center, but they made it work.
Lloyd and Kim were sitting at said table, eyeing Buttercup uncertainly as she leaned against the counter. Her shoulders were stiff, fingers curled into tight fists on the linoleum. The air felt tense enough to cut.
Oh yeah. The ice was really bothering her.
Mitch sighed and scratched his head. The things he did as a best friend.
"Y'know, they say sexual tension is never a good thing in the workplace," he commented nonchalantly, easily avoiding the thrown coffee cup. It lodged itself into the doorframe, cracking the wood. He idly examined it before turning towards his coleader. "What sector do you want?"
Buttercup shrugged before saying, "Sector thirty-three."
She was running.
Running, running, running.
From what? Her mind was blurry. Black…he wanted her, but why? Who wanted her?
Gasping, she ran on.
Last night…was it last night? She had helped them, the humans led by the boy, Butch, yes, his name was Butch. Her sister's counterpart. The dark her, Berserk (a shudder), had seen her though. But she was faster, much faster. Berserk wasn't a match, but she knew, she would tell him.
Who?
Aterex (another shudder). The creature that took her those years ago…how long ago? Too long, she had grown. Her hair billowed out behind her like a cape and if she weren't so numb, she would have laughed aloud at the childishness of it all.
Where was she?
The tall buildings, shells of a once great city towered above her.
She looked around, dazed confusion on her face.
The farther she went from Aterex's city, the less life there was. Sure, there was plant life and the occasional animal, but human life? No, there wasn't any. There had been humans living among the aliens, but here? The very outskirts of what once was Townsville city? There was nothing.
Shuddering again at the lifelessness, she forged on; passing out of what once was city limits. The air she breathed was nice, delicious almost. She could taste the smoke, the residue of war, but it was free air, air outside of the dark city.
It was air outside of Aterex's palace.
Finally, she collapsed. She wasn't sure where she was or how far she had run, but she knew she was nowhere near the dark city. Gasping breathlessly, she clutched at the thin fabric covering her chest, the shirtdress she had been wearing when she escaped.
How did she do that?
She couldn't remember. Someone helped her. She didn't want to think though; she just wanted to sleep.
"So…tired…" she whispered, slumping against a sign. She winced as she accidentally pulled on her hair by moving. She looked up at the sky. A pleasant blue just didn't seem right, but she was too tired to figure out why. "Where are you? Buttercup…Bubbles…"
Closing her eyes, her head fell back as she fell into exhausted sleep. It bumped lightly against the sign, a proud but dingy sign, on which "Pokey Oaks Kindergarten" was written.
The young woman murmured in her sleep, fingers clutching the dirt under her. As if to soothe her of whatever she was dreaming, a pink spark danced across her knuckles, jumping along her arm, across her chest, and then down her other arm.
And it was as if it did soothe her, because Blossom didn't stir after that.
Despite her love for flying, Buttercup always patrolled on her motorcycle, Junkie. Junkie was old; hell, it was practically an antique, but she loved it and did as much maintenance on it as she could. (Of course, whatever she couldn't do, Mitch did, but she tended not to mention that part.) Although it was nearly an antique, Junkie ran smooth as silk and as quiet as a mouse. This was all because of the Professor, in his attempt to keep his middle daughter safe, but it was a great upgrade for Junkie and she wasn't complaining.
At least it didn't thunder like Floyd's did, who just so happened to be accompanying her. Glancing into her side mirror, she watched as the older of the Floydjoydsen twins took note of their surroundings.
Sector thirty-three was in fact the neighborhood around Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. It was usually a quiet area with quite a few neutral survivors. Admittedly, most of those survivors did not enjoy the random patrols the rebels did, but they never did anything to provoke any fights either. They were just trying to survive on what they could scavenge and what little handouts the Rebels gave them. The Resistance had its own people to worry about, which she didn't blame them for being stingy.
As it were, Buttercup found her patrol painfully boring. She had never liked doing patrols, even back when she was younger, but it was something that needed to be done. The Resistance certainly didn't do patrols. Then again, the Resistance had surveillance equipment and spies scattered all over the world. They really didn't need to do patrols, did they?
Her mouth twisted into a frown as she remembered an incident before the rebellion had really gotten off their feet, back when she was fourteen and trying.
"We don't need your damn patrols to know what's going on."
The statement had been delivered with a condescending scowl and an uppity crimson leer. Maybe that was why Buttercup had an issue with Brick. Maybe it was because of his arrogance. Sure, she'd admit that he had his moments where she could almost be convinced into trusting him, but he was a jerk and a stoic and looked down on just about everybody. He was fine, as long as he didn't open his mouth. (Which, thankfully, he usually didn't, but those stares; phew, they were enough to cripple any narcissist.)
She couldn't be focusing on the past now, though. One had to be a full alert when driving in the open. You never knew when Aterex would randomly send out a patrol of his own and if one found you, you had better be a damn good actor or you were screwed. No one really knew what happened to the people taken by the aliens.
Thankfully, the skies were clear, with no cloud cover at all, meaning that if an alien ship did pass over the area, they would be able to see it before it saw them.
Buttercup yawned widely, looking around lazily. The houses looked the same as they did years ago, maybe more desolate with overgrown lawns, but they looked pretty much the same. They were somewhere in what had been Pokey Oaks county and she felt nostalgia build in her stomach. How long ago was she flying over this area with her sisters on their way to kindergarten? How long ago was it when they were flying over just to visit Ms. Keane? It was too long ago. So long that it felt like another life.
She tightened her grip on Junkie's handles. She would never admit it aloud, but she missed her sisters so much. Especially Blossom.
Shaking her head to clear it, she caught sight of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten's building and almost smiled…until she saw the sign.
She frowned, eyebrows furrowing. Someone was lying against the board limply as if they had just collapsed. Worry fizzled in her chest, as did apprehension. This could be someone in need of actual assistance or it could be a trap.
As the two rebels neared the school, she started seeing the person's features more clearly.
"Hey, is that a person?" Floyd called over the roar of his motorcycle's engine. Buttercup gave an affirmative and suddenly gunned towards the person. "Buttercup!?"
The green puff skidded to a stop a few feet from the person and jumped from her bike, landing in a running stance. She was instantly by the young woman's side, looking down at an oddly familiar face. Her heart raced. Her fingers shook when she lifted her hand, but she dared not touch the woman in front of her in case she disappeared in a shimmer of smoke.
The face was shaped like hers, maybe less stressed and softer, but not girlish like Bubbles'. Long red hair spilled around her, making a sort of blanket and nest combo. She was wearing a pale colored shirtdress and her feet wore soft slippers. Her arms were bare save for the short sleeves, but her face kept drawing Buttercup's eyes.
"Buttercup?" Floyd called softly, moving towards his leader. He stopped just behind her and looked at the redheaded girl in shock. "Is…is that—?"
Buttercup could only cover her mouth, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. She nodded and swallowed down the sob she felt building in her throat. Maybe she was still asleep, maybe this was all a hallucination from some rancid canned food. Maybe this was real. Maybe she didn't have to pretend to strong anymore.
Gathering her courage, she reached out with a shaking hand. She gently touched the girl's cheek, inhaling sharply as the girl moved her head closer to the soft touch. Her eyelids twitched and then bleary pink eyes were looking at her. A spark of recognition flashed through them, but they shut with a soft sigh of relief as the girl fell back to sleep.
"Butter…cup…" she mumbled wistfully and Buttercup felt a sob escape her throat.
This was real. This was real. She was real.
"Blossom…oh, Blossom," she gasped and pulled the other woman into her arms. She clutched her to herself tightly, sobbing into her neck. "Blossom, Blossom, Blossom."
She sat like that for a while, holding Blossom to herself as she sobbed. A dam inside of her broke when she had her in her arms and all she could do was cry.
All those years of wondering, of hoping, of longing, of doubting, and of waiting, those emotions locked up tight inside came out with her tears. Her pain, her determination, her anger and grief and frustration. All swept away with her tears, with the gentle breathing in her arms. She curled around her big sister, stroking her hair and clinging to her like she should have all those years ago.
Gasping softly between her sobs, she was vaguely aware of Floyd watching her. He had never seen her cry, after all, so he must be shocked. Hell, the last time she had cried, had really cried, had been when Blossom had disappeared, eight years ago and the only witnesses to that had been Bubbles and the Professor. She didn't even cry like this in front of Mitch and he was her best friend.
Poetic that she was crying now that she had found her sister.
After what felt like hours, but could have only been minutes, Buttercup lifted her head. Her cheeks and eyes felt sore and her nose was running something terrible, but she felt ridiculously relieved. Sniffling, she rubbed her eyes quickly.
"We have to get her back to HQ," she said, standing up and picking Blossom up bridal style. She turned, eyes narrowing at Floyd. "You tell anyone what you just saw, I will end you."
He nodded quickly and held his hands up, eyes still wide.
Still looking at him suspiciously, Buttercup turned her gaze to Junkie. Where would she put Blossom? She couldn't very well just tie her to herself and take off…could she?
Minutes later, she was blasting down the street, a rope securely tying her sister to herself. She felt a little silly, what with Blossom being unconscious and tied up, but there was no way she was putting her in the questionable sidecar, which was really a trailer with a seat welded to it, attached to Floyd's bike. She would rather swallow nails than let any kind of danger come to Blossom now.
The grin on her face couldn't be fought. They had found Blossom. Her leader! Of all the people that had disappeared that day, her disappearance had hurt the most. They had all felt it. The Rebels, the Resistance, the survivors. Buttercup would bet her right foot that there hadn't been one person who didn't wonder what had happened to her.
Now, though, she was back.
Buttercup felt the sudden urge to whoop build in her chest. Instead, she did a wheelie, causing Blossom's head to lull back and bump against her shoulder as she landed. Wincing a little, she glanced back at her sister, but she didn't wake up. She sighed in relief and sent a grin at Floyd, who only shook his head in disbelief.
As she turned back to the road, she just caught his worried frown, but whatever the reasoning for it, she didn't care. She was already planning everything that she would do with Blossom now that she was back. Things like patrols, scavenging, and raids. Maybe annoying the Resistance whenever they called or a unit passed through. She felt her grin growing. It was fun messing with the commanding officers, particularly Butch. He had the best reactions.
Sure, she knew that Blossom wouldn't do any of those things without commentary, but she knew that Blossom's noble nature would make her help. That she knew for a fact.
And just like that, she was frowning.
Blossom had a noble nature. She would want to help people with all she had. She was always like that, the first to jump in during any kind of situation, the first to lend a hand, the first to try to find a solution. And that could lead her to joining the Resistance. Because as much as the Rebels did, the Resistance had a much greater reach.
Buttercup growled, grinding her teeth. How could she forget that?
"Wait," she said aloud, causing Floyd to pause. Upon seeing that she herself hadn't stopped, though, he quickly put his bike back into gear. She narrowed her eyes at the overgrown grasses and foliage creeping onto the street. "Would Blossom join an organization that many of our old foes were in? Including her counterpart as one of the heads?"
Her mind now more somber, she was quiet as she and Floyd drove down the roads towards the rundown library.
The building was boxlike and had two floors and a basement. The kitchen had been an add-on sometime in the eighties. There were the typical leonine statues outside the entrance and an annex connected to it by the back. It was here where the two rebels stopped.
Pulling out a garage door opener, Buttercup pressed the 'Open' button. What appeared to a wall was actually a door, one of the updates that the Resistance had installed to facilitate their access to the tunnels. Buttercup hadn't exactly given them permission to do so, but both Mrs. Cavadini and the Professor had insisted so she couldn't have vetoed it. Besides, it was nice being in contact with the Resistance despite their issues.
The two rebels drove into what had been a storage room, which was now their garage and one of the hidden entrances to the Resistance. Buttercup just tended to ignore the latter.
"Hey, help me untie Blossom," she called, highly tempted just to break the rope. However, rope was a necessity that was uncommon nowadays, so she curbed herself.
Floyd hurried over to her side and began untying the two puffs.
Blossom murmured against Buttercup's neck, snuggling closer to her sister when the rope fell away. Even one of her limp hands had grabbed Buttercups' jacket and now clung there.
Said raven-haired woman felt her cheeks heat up at the action and quickly twisted around, grabbing the redhead. She narrowed her eyes at her sister, but when Blossom's head only listlessly rolled, she sighed.
Lifting her and shaking her head, Buttercup floated off Junkie. Her mouth curved into a half smile.
"You are so lucky you're unconscious, Leader Girl," she remarked, cradling her close. She looked at her lost sister tenderly. "Where have you been, Blossom?"
"You're the first back." Her head snapped up as Harry walked into the room, drinking from what was most likely a very flat can of Coke. The man paused when he noticed that Buttercup's arms were full. "Whoa. You found some…body…?"
Harry's voice trailed off as he got closer, eyes dropping to the girl in Buttercup's arms. He looked so shocked that his arms dropped and his soda began emptying its contents onto the garage floor. His mouth hung agape.
Floyd busied himself with closing the garage door, clearly making it Buttercup's job to answer. She glared at him before refocusing on the still shell-shocked Harry. Actually, it looked like he was tearing up a little, to which she really didn't know how to react. Harry didn't have any issues showing his emotions, but he was never a crier.
Sighing, she opened her mouth to unfreeze him when Floyd squeaked. Two more motorcycles roared into the garage door, parking expertly next to Junkie and Floyd's Monster.
"Locking us out, Floyd?" Mitch called playfully, jumping off his bike. He noticed Buttercup and held up a hand in greeting. "Scavenged some stuff from a Home Depot in sector twenty-five. Mostly nails and stuff, but…"
"It'll be useful," Buttercup finished, shifting the still unconscious Blossom.
It appeared as if she didn't really notice any of the talking. She continued to sleep deeply, curled as close as she could get. A faint shiver had Buttercup giving her a reassuring squeeze, even as she marveled at her ability to sleep. Then again, if she remembered correctly, Blossom always had been a surprisingly deep sleeper…and yet she had been able to wake up immediately if the Hotline went off. A mystery no one had ever been able to solve.
Shaking her head, she looked up when she heard Mitch walk over.
"Wait…is that…?" He paused, looking at her face. She didn't know what her expression was, a mix of apprehension, elation, and worry, she was sure, but his eyes widened and dropped to her arms. His voice sounded reverent as he whispered, "That's Blossom…isn't it?"
She nodded, clutching her sister tightly to herself and causing Blossom to murmur in her sleep. She released her grip a tiny bit in response. Again, the tears entered her eyes, but she held them back. There was no way she was going to allow anyone else to see her cry like she did. Least of all Mitch, even if he had seen her at her worst sans tears.
She glared at Floyd as she remembered her little episode earlier. Said twin flinched and hid behind Harry. Narrowing her eyes, she turned back to Mitch.
"Yes, it is Blossom," Buttercup announced to the garage.
Harry's eyes, which had already been wide, bulged and Carlos, a man maybe five years older than Buttercup, and whom they had found five years ago, looked awed.
Mitch looked at Blossom thoughtfully for a long moment, the awe slowly ebbing from his face. His cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath, eyes wide, before meeting Buttercup's gaze.
"We're going to have to tell the Resistance," he said finally and a chill filled the garage.
Buttercup scowled, feeling her power begin to crackle up her arms. She glared past him as heat pooled in her eyes until she could control it. Her eye twitched and she snarled, but she didn't think she would fry the next person who spoke. All she wanted was to get out of there and hoard her sister away.
Without a sound more, she stomped past them all into the hallway that led to the main building. She knew she had to tell the Resistance. She knew she was acting childishly. But the thought of telling the Resistance…she absolutely knew that Brick would have Blossom dragged to their headquarters to be interrogated.
Burns and bruises flashed in her mind. Ash coated her tongue.
Like hell was she going to let him within a foot of her sister.
Buttercup growled, hearing Mitch's footsteps behind her.
"I know, Mitch!" she snapped before he could say anything. "I know we have to tell the Resistance! But…But not yet…not yet…" She slowed and stopped, turning to him with watery eyes. Her look was pleading, begging, so unlike her that Mitch stopped in shock, his dark, chocolate brown eyes widening. "I don't want to share Blossom yet…"
He sighed, rubbing his neck.
"All right, BC, all right," he finally grumbled, frowning at her. "But we have to tell them sooner or later."
Buttercup's expression brightened and she grinned widely. "Don't worry, dad. I'll tell 'em when I'm good and ready!"
"'Never' is not a choice here."
"I don't know where you'd get an idea like that."
Blood pooled on the golden floor, sullying the room's elegance and grandeur with its baseness. The filth who bled lay crumpled, bodies broken in his fit of rage, but he could care less. They deserved it for what they had done.
She was gone.
A flash caught his eye, a slash of red brighter than the blood on the floor. He snarled and stalked out the door.
"Clean this up," the king growled.
The slave trembled and bowed, but he didn't stay to see them scramble and fret. He knew what his order would be followed. Most weren't so foolish to rebel against him. To resist him.
Two days. He had only left for two days and his prize was gone. Two days to visit one of their northern settlements and check on its supplies. Two measly days. And she was gone.
Those vermin.
The growl echoed in the empty hall, void of attendants and advisers and soldiers. They had fled during his anger, knowing exactly what needed to be done. He already knew the Powerpunk Girls were on the case. She had been their duty, after all. This had happened under their noses and they had better fix it.
The king's chambers were only a few hallways away, the perfect distance for privacy and to keep an eye on his prize. A prize such as her couldn't be trusted. He knew all about her, after all, the tales and stories the humans told about her and her sisters. How wily they were, how they seemed to get out of the hardest of troubles.
The Powerpuff Girls
Saviors of this desolate city, mere children compared to the men and women who had tried and failed to stop their takeover. Mere children who had worn crowns of justice and good. His prize in particular cloaked herself in righteousness, carrying the burden of a beacon on such small shoulders.
And now she was gone.
Alone in his chambers, the king dangled the slash of red from his fingers. The curling red of a ribbon, a ribbon that no matter what he did could not be destroyed. Oh, it had faded, as time fades all things, but it stood resolute.
As she had stood resolute.
His fingers curled around the fabric, the rumble of anger building. He would find out where she had gone. He would retrieve her. His empire depended on it.
Those vermin didn't know the storm they had unleashed.