Storm

by kiebs

Aliens invade Townsville and Blossom disappears. Eight years later, everything has drastically changed. When Buttercup, now a rebel leader, finds Blossom on a random patrol, everything changes. Where has Blossom been? And why can't she remember?

10. Consequences

Storm

No, you are not hallucinating. Yes, I am back.

Sorry for the six year long wait for this chapter! I have no other excuse other than that life happened. As an apology, this is the longest chapter so far!

A confession: I actually had most of this chapter written (the Brick scene is the newest addition, from a conversation with Carriedreamer). I have a particular update habit for Storm, where I won't post a chapter until I have the next one written. For example, this chapter was technically done, but I never posted it because hadn't finished chapter 10. It's so I have a buffer, but enough of that! You all waited long enough! Please enjoy!

(Also, check out my Instagram, kiebsmon, for what the Narcassians/aliens look like and for everyone's designs!

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Trivia: Lieutenant Kenny's name comes from the Mayor and the Narrator's voice actor, Tom Kenny.

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Chapter 9: Consequences

"This is a surprise."

No matter how neutral his voice sounded, Blossom knew that Brick was livid. The vibrancy of his eyes, and the matching burning thoughts, only helped that deduction. It felt like it had been years since she had experienced his anger. Then she had to remind herself that, really, it had been years since she last saw a flare-up from him, but that wasn't important right now. Her muddy memories could be dealt with later, when there wasn't an angry superhuman walking towards her.

Brick stopped about ten, fifteen feet away from them, face mostly hidden by the darkness of the room. She could just barely see him, the nighttime lights that lined the lower walls doing only enough to cast shadows across the floor and mess ever so slightly with her night vision. Even without the light, though, she would have been able to find him. His eyes were just so bright, his thoughts just as burning.

Really, he was anything, but stupid.

She wondered what had taken him so long to address Butch's constant simulator use. After all, it had to be logged or something…right? Moreover, Brick had a whole resistance readily available. Not every soldier could have been that busy during the last month that he couldn't spare at least one to check on Butch's behavior. The likelihood of her counterpart just ignoring his brother wasn't very high, either. She figured that either the green ruff had lied when asked, considering Brick's order to fallback and Butch's personality, or it really was just his rowdy personality and it was construed as normal behavior when at the base. It could also very well be a combination of both, knowing Butch. If Brick had been fooled by his brother's lies, what was he doing here?

The silence was suffocating and tense. Butch had squared his shoulders, standing defiantly in front of his brother. On the other hand, Brick was deceptively relaxed, but Blossom had fought him too many times that even ten years separation couldn't erase her ability to notice the tautness of his body, shoulders tense, and arms hanging loose at his sides. She felt her own body ready itself, his red thoughts stirring the upheaval of her memories, tugging on the muddied ones as well as the childhood ones, both unwelcome.

Swallowing, she analyzed the general, waiting for the right moment to…speak, maybe? Certainly not attack; that would only make him angrier. However, as things were, something had to be done before someone did something stupid.

"Isn't it? I've never seen you out of the OR at this time of night. You're kinda like a fucking vampire."

Like that.

Blossom cringed at the green ruff's nonchalance. Of all people, he should have been the person most aware of when Brick was angry, even more so than her. It should be obvious the extent of the general's anger at the moment. He wasn't out right furious, but the simmering, scarlet thoughts were enough to pull on her memories. It pulled on the faded memories because anger was the easiest of their triggers. Brick's ire, though not apparent, was too strong for the memories to ignore, painting foggy images just beyond her eyelids. She tried focusing on him, on his eyes, anything to keep the memories at bay.

His glowing eyes were much brighter than the gloom of the training room called for. Antagonizing him would help neither of them, especially her, right now. Her fingers twitched.

The memories of their childhood fights bit her skin. His anger could be terrifying. She had witnessed it quite a few times, but those had been the temper tantrums of a child, of a prideful child sick of losing. Hopefully, time had tempered it, but from that simmering in his mind, she doubted it.

However, except for his eyes and those thoughts, Brick looked painfully passive. His stance had a similar casual intensity to Butch's own posture, but there was no overzealousness like the green ruff was exuding in waves. Said man's thoughts were also overflowing with clipped images from previous skirmishes he had had with his brother. They mixed together with Brick's angry ones to create a soup of bloody thoughts, of battle and anger, of arguments and red.

Blossom hated that her memories only gave her Brick's rowdy younger self, considering the brief flashes she could catch from Butch's mind. They contrasted drastically with her last known memory of the general as a child. Whereas the young man in the green ruff's memories was dreadfully deadpan and concise, the boy that she remembered was cocky and overly vicious. She wasn't sure how she could handle her counterpart's stoicism. Except…

Her other memories, the ones bathed in red, red blood and fog, the ones dredged up by the two Rowdyruffs' combined thoughts, gave her such stoicism. Of a stoic face staring down at her. Or…was it just a blank face? However, it was only a glimmer, only enough for her to get a passing glance and a guess on how to deal with the general. It was different from the last time she had a memory tug on her psyche when she was with Butch. Other than the first time, most of the memories that their training dredged up involved her and her sisters' rip-offs. With Brick, on the other hand…

The memory was so muddy that she could barely make sense of it. It crept so slowly into her mind, invading her senses that it took all she had to stay in the present. She clenched her fists, trying to keep pain from her face and energy from gathering in her hands. If Brick thought she was planning something, whatever she could do to salvage the situation would be lost.

It was so hard, though. There was a whispering in her ears and she knew it had to be from the memory, but it felt like there were people all around her. Her gaze was beginning to lose focus even as she stood there, fighting the memory.

"I'm not amused."

Blossom couldn't tell if Brick actually was talking or her mind was using his voice to narrate the memory. The tones felt similar, but she couldn't be sure right now.

She took a calming breath, blinking furiously. She had to fight the memory. She had to push it back, away from her mind. Right now, she didn't need it or want it. Her focus was already waning and she could not have that when her counterpart stood right there.

"Aw, c'mon. You're never amused! You're basically a fucking stick in the mud, man." That was definitely Butch, so before must have really been Brick. The memory hadn't completely encompassed her, then.

Yet.

Her vision swam for a moment, the edges sparking with synapses. Her equilibrium seemed to shift and it took everything in her to stay upright and not move. She may have swayed.

Those glowing eyes did not move from Butch.

"Butch, stop playing the fucking fool. Do you really think I'm stupid enough not to notice your activity?" Brick asked darkly. "Even you usually don't go into the simulator four times in one week."

His anger was starting to color his voice, ushering the memory only further to the front of her mind. She fought the mental wave bitterly, trying to breathe evenly through her mouth.

Fighting a memory was proving just as hard as forcing herself to remember one. It stung her mind and bruised her will, but really, she didn't want to deal with two angry Rowdyruffs and a memory at the same time. Either was bad enough on its own.

Together?

That would be disastrous.

"I've been antsy, all right? You had me fucking retreat when I was in perfect striking distance! I could've caused some God damn damage to that fugly eyesore!"

"And you could have died, asshole. I abhor saying it, but I need your cocky ass. I can't have you becoming collateral before the big strike."

"Oh? And when the fuck is that, bossman? In case you forgot, most of the troops have been back over two months. It's fucking boring! We could be doing something about those damn aliens, but all you've had us do is sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs! So, yeah, I've been using the simulator a whole damn lot!"

Now Butch was angry and all the red thoughts pushed harder on her mind.

Taking steadying breaths, Blossom closed her eyes to block out the thoughts. However, once she didn't have the fuzzy images of the angry brothers, the memory surged forward with more force. The red, muddy images assaulted her mind and left her breathless and gasping. Disjointed images of anger and stoicism, of glowing eyes and blank faces. Of a golden room tinged red and— And—

People?

Eyes snapping open, she stumbled a step back and blinked rapidly. She could see a golden chamber superimposed over everything, only further disorienting her. She could just see through the sparkling walls to see the reality of where she was, to let her know that she wasn't quite fully hallucinating yet. The phantom from her memory was persistent, though, forcing itself into her vision.

She almost fell into the memory, forgetting that just feet away was the man who tried to kill her as a child. She was so close to falling, except something lit up in her vision and she immediately focused it on it. Her instincts sang danger and her body thrummed in anticipation, but her mind latched onto it like a drowning man to a plank of wood. Anything to keep her sanity.

What had surprisingly helped her stay planted in the present was a somewhat fuzzy glowing object pointed in her direction. It took her a moment, but then it clicked that the red object was Brick's fist. Once this registered, a green energy field mixed with the red light.

The red thoughts had increased and Blossom gasped from the pressure of the memory. She hated how alike she and Brick were. They were both so dang paranoid! Did he honestly think she would attack him?

Her eyes didn't move from the glowing red, though. It was a different red to the red in her memories, even if the anger mixed together with her memories. This red was here, now, not whenever her memories were.

"What the hell is wrong with her?"

Confusion overcame her for a moment, but she realized he was talking about her. Which was funny since she was the only "her" in the room…right? The memory clawed furiously forward like a rabid animal and she lifted a hand to her head.

She only then noticed that she hadn't been able to control her energy. Her hand was alight with pink light, tingling the skin of her face. That was strange. She wondered why that happened. Such a reaction had never occurred before. Even when fighting with Butch, she had never used her powers like this. Certainly, she may have used too much strength, but nothing like this. Nothing as dangerous as this.

Something in this memory was reacting violently to Brick and Butch's anger, then. Something about that combination screamed danger to her. Screamed to be prepared.

That worried her.

Butch glanced at her, she knew because she saw his glowing eyes, and he mentally asked her if she was all right. Besides a weird twist of her head, which could have been a nod, her only response was to suppress the energy flow to her hands. Her palms shook. She couldn't discern if the curse that followed had come from Butch's mouth or mind.

During their sparring matches, she had had only a couple big memory attacks and those times the green ruff had resorted to physical violence to snap her out of it, even if she had retaliated to the assault. If the memory consumed her, she could tell that Butch would have no qualms immediately punching her out of it.

"She's fine, Brick. It's…" Butch faltered, trying for an explanation that didn't cause the pink puff any grief.

From his silence, though, Blossom figured he came up short.

Tentatively, she stood straighter, one hand still holding her head. She focused as much as she could on Brick and hoped that her speaking wouldn't cause a kneejerk reaction. His voice still made her tense and his glowing eyes and fist weren't helping that reaction right now. All their fighting had conditioned her to prepare for battle at the mere sight of him. Her missing years hadn't changed that. It was probably the same with him.

She hoped he would listen to reason and they wouldn't come to blows. She was being optimistic, she was sure, but someone had to be. Right now, there was too much tension among the three of them.

"It's…ah, my memories," she managed, wincing at the slight waiver in her voice. She could not appear weak in front of him. No matter how much she was struggling with the memory, she would not show weakness in front of this man. "The two of you…are triggering a memory. When…When a memory happens like this, it's…hard to suppress."

Through Butch's shield, she could see that Brick's expression did not change. He was still clearly suspicious and his jaw was tight. Nevertheless, he did lower his arm, but she was acutely aware that his fist still glowed brightly.

That didn't really surprise her. Considering that their similarities, the red ruff was very paranoid, as she would admit that she herself could be.

"See? She's not about to go on a murderous rampage," Butch remarked, though his stance was still taut and ready for an attack. "There's nothing to be pissed at."

"…and how do you know this, Butch?" Brick's voice was deceptively calm and Blossom pressed harder on her temple.

The angry thoughts were searing now. Despite the risen intensity, it was almost as if they had become clearer. She could make out some formulated thoughts, mostly theories on how Butch knew about her attacks, but they were all centered on how dare she seduce and trick his brother and how much of a fool Butch was for falling for it. How much Brick was a fool for letting this go on so long, for letting her mind-control his brother.

Blossom would never do that. She couldn't do that. Mind-control was not one of her abilities. She had tried that once already, on Robin's insistence, but all she had managed was sending a thought to her friend. She was not controlling Butch.

"H-How I know?" Butch was taken aback and the shield faltered with his uncertainty. "Ah…B-Butters told me! Y-Y'know, in one of her rants about you and banning Blossy here. S-She was sayin' how…everyone was crucifying her or something and got into her memories!"

Brick's eyes were completely red now and she was just waiting for him to lose his temper. He had to be close to it, if his thoughts were any indication, and Butch's blatant lying wasn't helping anything. That was only making him angrier if his roiling thoughts were any indication.

Blossom had been sure that the green ruff was a good liar. The number of times the man had lied to her and her sisters' faces in the past was staggering. Of course, they had been able to tell, but that had been because he wasn't exactly the brightest. He had had years to practice! Wouldn't one expect to get better with practice?

That all centered on if he even continued lying, but since it was Butch, he probably lied every day about something. Then again, considering whom he was lying to, it was obvious that no matter what lie he tried, Brick would know instantly.

She could tell that he did know, his glowing eyes burning in the gloom. The image looked familiar to her, but she couldn't tell if it was a memory before her amnesia or after. It was probably from before, but most of the times they had fought had been during the afternoon. A vague memory passed through the more forcible one and she blinked rapidly as his glowing red eyes took on a magenta hue for a moment. She shook her head slightly and narrowed her eyes. The magenta was confusing at first, but it made sense if she correlated it to the forcible memory. The gold room was a training room and the magenta eyes meant only one person.

Berserk.

The memory was from her time with the Narcassians then, when they had been training her to be their warrior. Brick's anger reminded her of Berserk's whenever she had beaten her…at least, she believed so. The memory was still foggy, but the more connections she made, the less it pressed on her psyche. There were still things that weren't connecting, things that didn't make sense, but the pain was ebbing.

Eyes focused on Brick, Blossom let herself pull other details out from her subconscious. Anything to keep the pain at bay. Butch's shield continued to glow between them, so she felt safe to do this.

The aliens had trained her with the Powerpunk Girls who had been created by…someone. It irritated her that she had no idea who it was, but that was unimportant. What was more important was what was triggering this particular memory. It had something to do with Butch and Brick, something about the way their thoughts were brewing, and it was driving her crazy. She could just touch what it reminded her of; it was right there! However, all the receding memory told her was something about Berserk and her green sister…Brute or whatever Buttercup's rip-off was called.

Brick sighed heavily and Blossom snapped to attention. The memory stubbornly hung on, but she was able to see somewhat clearly now. The golden palace still danced at the corner of her eyes, tickling her with searing temptation. Her counterpart's scarlet thoughts were more prudent, though, and she focused on him as the glow in his eyes died down to a natural glow. Despite the quieter glow, his stance was still taut and he rubbed his forehead in a world weary way.

"Fine," he said flatly, dropping his hand.

He started floating towards the entrance, leaving them.

"Where are you going?" Butch asked and his brother paused, but did not turn.

"Going to make preparations for a more…secure method of keeping Pinky under control."

The green ruff snarled and Blossom winced at the murky red images that assaulted her mind. It wasn't as bad as a precise and clear thought, but the instinctive flashes from Butch lasted longer and clung like spiders to her mind. They were directed at his brother, who, upon hearing the growl, turned ever so slowly.

She felt her own muscles tense as she watched Brick slip into a fighting stance. Swallowing, she fought back the instinct despite the thrill of excitement that tingled across her scalp. She didn't want to admit how much she had enjoyed her skirmishes with the red ruff. Just how challenging they had been, fighting someone who was her equal, who matched her one to one. Cat and Mouse was so much fun with someone who could plan on the fly just like she could.

Now was not the time to delve into such thrills, however. Butch's shield had dropped the moment he began snarling and his fists were glowing. He leaned forward.

She immediately knew what he was about to do.

"Bu—!"

He rocketed off before she could even finish the single syllable that was his name.

Digging her heels in the floor, she covered her face at the wind whipped up by Butch's rapid departure. She squinted through the gusts, watching as the emerald streak splintered into a starburst on contact with his prey.

Butch was pressing down on his brother, his glowing fists held by Brick's red ones. The green ruff let out a low growl that had the hair on her neck standing up and she blinked her eyes rapidly as the wind died. She gulped as she lowered her hands, but she kept a defensive stance. What had been a tense atmosphere was practically electric now that the two ruffs were butting heads.

From her perspective, Blossom couldn't see either of their faces, but she just knew that they wore matching snarls. Their angry thoughts only helped that image. What she could see, though, was that there was a small crater where Brick was standing, probably due to Butch crashing into him. Her eyes flickered from their feet up.

The memory told her the situation was familiar. The image of Berserk in a similar struggle with Brute flashed over the two ruffs and the pink puff groaned, grabbing her head. That explained why the memory was resurfacing. Brick and Butch's altercation reminded her of the stupid punks and their training. Her eyelids drooped slightly until she was watching them with hooded eyes. It didn't seem like anything destructive was going to happen, unlike with the Punks. It just looked like they were grappling.

Of course, as soon as she thought that no damage would befall the training room, Butch slammed his forehead into Brick's and sent the general into the wall after managing to free his fists. Sparks spat from the ruined lights around the red ruff's knees as he pulled himself free, bringing a hand to his face.

Even from where she was standing a distance away, Blossom knew that the glowing red had encased his eyes. The thick beams of light that blasted Butch into the simulator door next to her only proved that.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Butch?" Brick growled as Blossom moved to help the green ruff. "Don't touch him!"

She stopped, leering cautiously at him as she took a step back.

The look on his face was thunderous, his eyes still burning brightly. The red thoughts were attacking her again. They tugged on her mind, pulling at memories that she felt she shouldn't yet see. Her breaths were deep, concise, and rhythmic as she continued to stare at her counterpart. Anything to keep the memories back.

Butch sat up, jumping to his feet. For some reason, the manic grin on his face didn't surprise her. Nevertheless, she took a step back as her sparring partner cracked his knuckles, green lightning sparking across his fists and forearms. A low chuckle emitted from his throat and he leaned his head back ever so slightly, exposing his throat completely to his brother. However, what should have been a submissive action was more a challenging one when he had that psychotic smile on his face.

"Me? I thought you'd like to spar. I mean, you did come out here so late at night, bossman!" He flicked his hand back and forth casually, tilting his head lazily to the side. His grin was like a snarling Cheshire Cat. "Why else would you be here?"

Brick's lip curled in disgust.

"You little fucker. Stop your bullshit. You know exactly why I came out here." His eyes flicked to Blossom and she stiffened, slightly widening her stance. He didn't keep his eyes on her, though. "You've been sparring with fucking Pinky for a month now. She's banned for a reason."

"What? Trying to make her stir crazy and go on a rampage?" Butch laughed sardonically. "That's more a me thing. Or Butters. Blossy?" The green ruff sneered a grin at his older brother. "Blossy's better at dealing with her energy. I just…didn't turn her away when she showed up to spar."

From the look on his face, Blossom knew Brick was going to retort. It was obvious that he knew what was going on. He knew that Butch had disobeyed his orders and it infuriated him. She felt somewhat grateful for Butch's lying, but all he was doing was drowning the fire in gasoline. Lying for her was sweet and all, but it was still stupid with the present situation.

He couldn't really think he was going to get away with it. It should be obvious Brick was prepared to beat the ever-living crap out of him. The redhead pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes darting from her counterpart to the almost vibrating ruff next to her. That was probably precisely what he hoped for, the masochistic idiot.

The standoff needed to stop before it began, but when she opened her mouth to reason with one of them, Butch shot forward, swinging a fist at Brick's head. It left him wide open and his brother retaliated as soon as he was within arm's length distance. The red ruff blocked the fist then slammed a least a dozen of his own punches into Butch's abdomen. The air left Butch in a whoosh that even Blossom at her distance could hear it.

She winced appreciatively as Brick proceeded to grab his brother by the face and slam him into the ground, enlarging the crater that he had stood in before. He loomed there for a moment and then his gaze rose, meeting hers with an intensity that had her stepping backwards. While she was all for sparring with Butch, she just knew that fighting with her counterpart would be a death wish when he was so angry. This was not the child from her memories, when his anger was his downfall. Those blazing infernos that were his eyes chilled her, as much of an oxymoron as that was.

Suddenly, for a moment, it wasn't Brick glaring her, but Berserk and the pink puff squeezed her eyes shut. She had actually managed to forget about the pressure on her mind. Now, however, the memory took advantage of her distraction, squirming its way to the forefront of her psyche with the help of her fear. Small gasps left her lips and she swallowed thickly.

One second it was Berserk stepping over a beaten Brute, the next it was Brick stalking out of a crater. Her palms felt clammy and then shockingly cold. She didn't have to look to know that she had frosted her palms accidentally. The air was cold on her skin and chilled her mouth as she breathed, steam puffing in the corners of her eyes.

She didn't want to fight him. She was afraid of what she might do.

Her counterpart just kept walking forward slowly.

Blossom prepared herself, lifting her fists and relaxing her stance. …except she needn't have done that. In the next moment, Butch was grabbing Brick from the back, his arms around his brother in a sleeper hold. The general's head jerked back and a snarl escaped his lips as he twisted, throwing himself and Butch into a couple of treadmills. The machines crashed to the floor as the weight of the two ruffs slammed into them, literally steamrolling the poor equipment as they wrestled angrily.

It looked like Brick was trying to limit the amount damage done to the room, or so Blossom thought because he didn't seem to be using any ability other than his strength. Occasionally there was a flash of red, but it looked more as if he was slamming energy-fortified fists into his brother than actual lasers. On the other hand, Butch definitely didn't care about damage to anything, but Brick. The green ruff, when he was pinned to the ground, let loose a volley of eyebeams that his brother twisted to dodge and ended up searing the ceiling forty feet above them.

It wasn't exactly a quiet battle what with the crashing machines and the clanging of crushed metal, but neither of the brothers was really making much noise except for growls, or manic laughter in Butch's case. Nevertheless, it should have attracted other attention or alarms should have been going off or something. The fact that there weren't any worried her until she glanced up and saw that Butch had incinerated what looked like a fire alarm. Well, that explained that then.

Blossom gritted her teeth, eyes darting cautiously around the room. The ruffs had continued to roll in their wrestling match, devastating multiple treadmills and mangling a weight set that Butch had used in an attempt to brain his brother. That had been one instance that Brick had actually used his eyebeams. The remains laid smoking feet from their new skirmish. The brothers were on their feet now and it looked more like a boxing match, but Butch was ferociously attacking Brick, using elbows, knees, and lasers of all kinds in his attempt to get the red ruff to retaliate.

Brick was having none of it.

He would parry Butch's attacks and would attack with his own, but he did little more than enough to incapacitate the brawler potentially. It wasn't quite enough to knock the green ruff out in one go without demolishing the room, however. It did look, though, as if Butch was wearing down little by little the longer they fought.

Just like what Blossom did during their sparring.

Of course.

Still fighting vigorously, Butch seemed less enthusiastic and more driven. She could just see the snarl on his face as he swung fist after fist at his brother, eyes lighting up with emerald energy as he fired an eyebeam after a right hook. Even his fists glowed, though with each punch, Brick would parry with one of his own at more controlled pace and strength. Something about the way they were fighting made her think that they were holding back. They probably were, but Butch was probably only holding himself back from flying.

Casting a telepathic line to the green ruff, all Blossom saw were angry flashes and worried ones that centered on her and keeping Brick from her. That flattered her a little, in a somewhat twisted way, but what caught her attention was stray thought of him being soft. It was such a strange thought to have, especially from Butch, but before she could dwell on this development, Brick had socked Butch in the jaw, sending him reeling back a few feet.

If she were going to act, it would have to be now it appeared.

Wasting no time, she blasted towards them. Enough was enough. Butch should have realized that Brick would be furious when he discovered them. She should have realized that. If she hadn't been so caught up in the thrill of fighting, maybe she wouldn't have prolonged their meetings. There were so many ifs in her life now. So, so many. She would rectify them someday. Right now, though, she had a fight to stop.

Butch was racing towards Brick, who already had prepared for the attack, when she slammed into the ground between. She watched Butch's eyes widen as she shoved her elbow into his sternum to stop his assault. There was a crack and pain lanced down her arm into her shoulder. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out, refusing to acknowledge any kind of weakness in front of her counterpart. She was sure she had shattered her elbow at that moment or did something to it, but it was far more prudent to stop this fight.

The green ruff hissed curses as he stumbled backward, a hand over the place where her elbow had been. It didn't look broken. If anything, it was probably bruised, considering just how sturdy he was in comparison to her. He and Buttercup had always been able to take more hits than the rest of them could. That bruise would be enough for now.

With that thought, the pink puff turned to look at her counterpart, keeping her elbow bent as she lowered it. She could feel the Chemical X in her body already healing it.

"I'm sorry," she said and watched as Brick's jaw tightened. "What I did…well, no. I take no repentance for disobeying your ban. What I do take repentance for is having one of your officers be an accomplice of mine. I'm sure it would have been better if it wasn't your brother, but…" She paused, frowning at her counterpart's blank face and fiery eyes. "But I'm finding it hard to care. At this moment in time, I am your only source into the Narcassians' operations and your ban on me, while I do understand your caution, is completely and utterly oppressive. If I can't find ways to remember, I can't help you, Brick."

For some reason, the words that left her mouth didn't feel like her own. They made sense, they really did, but they felt like they were only partly hers. She really did want to help the Resistance. When she had first heard of them from Buttercup, she had been set on joining to help. She wanted to make up for all the time she had been gone, all the pain she had let happen.

However, all these restrictions that were placed on her severely cut any help she could give. If she wasn't allowed to join or mix with influential members, there would be no way for her to escape the miasma of suspicion. If she couldn't find ways to help her fight through the amnesia, she wouldn't be able to remember and therefore give help. She was suddenly angry at Brick for all the things he was doing.

"And what if what you remember doesn't help us?" Brick snarled. "What if all you were was the aliens' pet? What if you were just some trophy that Aterex paraded around like a show pony? What then, Pinky?"

She tried not to show the panic that clenched her heart at Aterex's name. Tried not to flinch at the use of pet. Her skin felt cold, but she clenched her fist to keep from rubbing her arms. That would be another show of weakness.

She hovered upwards so that they were eye to eye, so that she didn't have to look up at him and deal with his condescension. She lifted her chin and matched his glare.

"Then you'll have notions of how to infiltrate the Narcassians' society through social means," she snapped before biting out the words, "I wasn't his pet, though. I remember fighting the punks. The Narcassians trained me. They wanted me to fight for them."

"What a good pet, you are."

She hoped he thought her sharp inhale was because of her bones knitting together again. She hoped he was too focused on her face to notice the tremble that had taken her over.

"And did you?" The way he stared at her seemed simultaneously piercing and nonchalant.

She couldn't remember.

She couldn't remember if she had fought for them or not. Outside of showcasing her powers to the upper echelon and any human supporters they had garnered, she could remember nothing. They had her train with the Powerpunks, but she couldn't remember the reason why. A different red to his glowing eyes tinged her vision, a red that whispered to her in a voice she couldn't understand.

She didn't know.

And that frightened her.

"I…" Blossom bit her lip and landed despite herself. She regretted the show of insecurity the moment the haughty look descended on the red ruff's face. "I…do—"

"That's what our sparring was for, Brick," Butch cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder and leaning protectively over her. His eyes glowed almost as brightly as his brother's did. "I figured it lets her get some steam off and she might remember something. She has, so that's something right?"

"Thanks, Butch," she thought at him, receiving a brief smile in response. At least he was smart enough not to show it too much.

Brick's face was still set in stone, but the haughty edge was gone. He now looked more annoyed, eyes narrowed at the two of them. He still stood tensely, attentively, as if awaiting another attack.

Blossom wondered if her talking to him was doing that. Every time he opened his mouth, she could feel her body reacting in preparation for an attack. Was that happening with him as well? She was about to delve into his mind, which she surprisingly felt no qualms about, when he finally opened his mouth.

"…I'm not removing the ban," he said and she felt Butch's grip tighten on her shoulder. "I'm giving you an entourage, Pinky. You'll go nowhere without two guards and one of us." His gaze lifted to Butch. "And you are on probation until further notice. You'll not leave my presence unless I give you permission."

"Really? Are you fucking serious!?" Butch snarled as he stepped around Blossom.

Brick watched him impassively, already taking multiple steps away from them. Only his clenched jaw and fist belied his anger. "There will be a briefing…at least amongst us superhumans. I expect you in my office at oh-eight hundred hours, Butch."

"You're not lifting your fucking ban on her? Brick, fucking look at me!"

Bloody eyes met forested ones. "Oh-eight hundred hours, Butch. You better fucking be there."

And then he left, leaving a weary Blossom and furious Butch.

It was safe to say that Blossom didn't get any sparring that night, not with Butch in a rage. She simply returned to her room and fell into a sleep riddled with glowing eyes and a voice hissing in her ear.

"You're weak."

---

His feet took him away from the training room, away from his brother and his stupidity, away from a mess that he would have to fix.

Away from her.

His skin itched from the fight, itched from seeing that familiar pink energy, from witnessing her standing up to him. The thrum would not stop, would not die and his feet carried him as far away as possible before he did something terrible. His fists trembled and it took everything in him to suppress the energy wanting and begging to be released. Sparks danced around his fingertips all the same, the only outlet he would allow until he could get away.

Butch was an idiot. He was an idiot. Letting her stay in here, letting her roam when they didn't know what she could do.

Brick did know what she could do. He remembered ice searing his skin, remembered pink energy clashing with his red, a mismatched look of both arrogance and pleasure as she stared down at him.

On the logical side, he understood that if having her train brought back the memories, they should let her do it. It made sense and, well, he was curious about the aliens. Monsters though they were, Mojo had a point about them being fascinating. They had the same strength and flight that he and his brothers had, but they could change their elasticity and they had seen them phase through metal before. They could not do the same with Butch's shield, they found out, and that became the only true means of keeping the aliens at bay when they attacked.

Even the Professor had admitted a scientific interest, having already known that they weren't alone in the universe. (The broccoli alien story had been...hard to swallow.) That interest had turned into a borderline obsession ever since Pinky had returned. If they could pick her brain, if she could expand on what she had already told them, they would have a better grasp of what they were dealing with.

On the side of him that boiled and frothed, he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know about her time with the aliens, what she had done, what they had done to her. They knew what the aliens had done to Earth, to its people, to them. They had made a mockery of the Girls, a twisted dark version with a tattered ribbon and messy hair. They manipulated scores of humans, forcing them to their will with drugs. They had killed so many.

And what had Pinky done? If the drug controlled her too, what had she been told to do? Or was she just a pet? A pretty little pet just trained so she could show off her powers. He didn't know and he hated not knowing, but he hated even more that he wanted to know.

He wanted to know what had happened to her.

He wanted to know what those aliens had done to her.

He wanted to know so he could tear them apart because that was his counterpart.

His rival, his enemy, his to mess with and rile up and—

Brick almost laughed, almost snorted. What was he, ten? He didn't have time to mess around, least of all with Pinky. And why would he want to anyway? What purpose would that serve? He didn't get any joy from being around her. All he felt was that heat in his stomach and chest and that tremble in his hands with a want to-to punch. Making her angry and frustrated had long lost its appeal when a war loomed over them all.

His footsteps echoed around the empty halls, a fast, angry rhythm to his fast, angry thoughts. His fists clenched and unclenched, muscles too tight, everything thrumming with energy he had tried desperately to suppress. Butch may have little care for his surroundings when fighting, but Brick was the damn General. He had to be above that. He had to be perfect, especially when there were plenty who thought him unfit for the position.

Buttercup's words from a month ago flashed through his mind as his eyes alighted on a familiar door. Punching into the code, he couldn't help scowling.

"Who the hell died and made you king of anything?"

She should fucking know who had died. Then again, she had run away before General Portman had taken over the Townsville Branch of the Resistance, hadn't she? She literally had ran away days before the general had shown up on their doorstep, a friend of their old mentor, and had taken the four superhumans under his wing. Brick, especially. He had seen potential in him that no one else would acknowledge.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not want to deal with those memories. He didn't have the luxury of time to deal with that and Butch's idiocy. And then there was Pinky as well and he had way too much on his plate to let grief waylay him.

"Brick? What are you doing here?"

He looked up, passing through the doors and already working on his tie. He frowned.

"Professor Utonium, shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked instead of answering.

His feet carried him past the Professor, past whatever the older man was working on, and straight towards the simulator. He punched in his personal code and set up a recreation of an old battle on the edge of Townsville proper.

His fingers began to work on his jacket's buttons as the simulation booted up. Between buttons, he added the parameters of the fight and the computer chirped as it waited for him to enter.

"Ah… I wanted to get a head start on analyzing Emmons' blood and seeing if I could synthesize a possible cure for the drug? If I could isolate some of the alien blood… I know it's been a month, but—"

The Professor was rambling and his voice was slurring. Papers shuffled behind him, something clicking as it fell. He grumbled at that, too soft for him to hear.

Brick could just barely see the older man in the reflection of the viewing window. Most of the lab was dark and the light at his deck shone like a beacon. He was really just a silhouette against that light, a dark sweater substituting for his lab coat. His frown felt heavy as he took in the Professor leaning on his desk.

He tossed his jacket on the empty technician chair. His tie followed it.

"You should rest, Professor," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "As brilliant as you are, Emmons'...blood will be here in the morning."

"It could have decayed by then!" the scientist argued before sighing deeply. "But...I've had plenty of time to collect samples. I suppose I should...but...Blossom."

The young general stiffened at her name, stiffened at the memory of her before him with glowing eyes and glowing fists. Of her tilting her chin up at him with that cool, defiant face that she was so good at.

His pulse raced. Fire sang in his veins.

"You need rest," he reiterated through clenched teeth. "You're overworking yourself."

"...the same to you," the Professor answered and his tone shifted. "Brick, is everything okay?"

The simulator door hissed open before him. Brick paused and turned so that he could look over his shoulder at the Professor.

The older man had turned himself, looking worried. Even in the dim gloom, Brick could see just how tired he looked. His shoulders drooped, his hair was a mess, and it looked like the stubble he remembered from earlier had gotten worse.

His fist clenched.

Childishly, he thought, "Her fault."

Aloud, he instead said, "…just some stress relief. Don't worry about it, Professor."

He could feel the Professor's gaze as he stepped into the simulator, but once the doors closed behind him, he let out a long breath.

Sparks danced across his palms, sparks of energy and flames, sparks that begot crimson arcs up and down his arms. His body sang at the release, the energy free after so long repressed. His fingers twitched, his whole body twitched, and he took a few more steps into the simulation. The door disappeared behind him with a faint beep.

He took a breath, a breath that tasted like smoke and flame, and breathed out sparks. He glared into the devastated street.

"Simulation, start," he commanded and an alien blipped into existence before him.

A snarl ripped across its face and it barely managed a fighting stance before his fist met its countenance. It slammed into the wall behind it, gurgling, purple blood running down the sides of its mouth. Revulsion mixed with the anger in his chest.

That blood had mutated one of his soldiers. That blood was in a drug. A drug used to control humans. A drug used to control his counterpart.

His fist lit up with energy, but the alien managed to catch that strike, even as it shrieked from the searing heat. His energy always burned, after all. No matter how much he tried to lower the temperature, it was always so hot to the touch. Unlike his brothers, Bubbles, or Buttercup, whose energy just emitted a soft heat. When there was fire in his veins, it was no wonder every other part of him burned.

Did hers freeze?

Blasting the alien with his eyebeams, he swung forward with his other fist. It connected with its jaw in a sickening crunch. Blood splattered the wall next to it, a spray of purple from its mangled jaws. Slowly, it slid down the bricks and he merely stared as it crumpled at his feet. He took a step backwards with a sneer.

He wasn't even panting.

His skin still felt too tight.

Energy continued to arc up and down his arms.

He could still see her glowing eyes.

"Computer, up level five stages," he growled.

The alien disappeared.

Something moved behind him.

He turned and caught the punch to his chest. Red energy sparked around the inky black hand, eliciting a shriek. Another fist swung in his peripheral, this time connecting. Moving his head with the blow, he managed to catch himself from falling, but brought the first alien with him. Snarling, he squeezed its fist, enjoying its wail too much, before he released it and shot into the air.

It barely stung, but he rubbed his jaw all the same. These were the things that had taken Pinky? Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. What had happened? How could she let these things take her? She wasn't that weak! Even at twelve years, she couldn't be that weak!

The two aliens stared up at him before both jumped into the air after him. The one to the right summoned a psionic weapon similar to Boomer's, a bat no doubt because of recorded training sessions from Boomer, while the left one merely clenched its fists as they soared upwards. They attacked as one, but he shot higher into the air, firing back with beams from his fists. Their cries followed him as he spun around them.

The one with the bat tried to retaliate, snaking between the beams as much as it could. The aliens had proven to be slower than he, his brothers, and the Girls. At least the common foot soldiers had proven to be slower, the memory of a pair of aliens decked in gold sinuously moving around him and Butch with ease. Moving behind their guard far too easily. Moving to strike, to kill, General Portman.

He snarled.

Gold was a status symbol among the aliens as much as it was among humans. No one had seen Aterex in a long time, but he was sure the damn alien was decked out in the gaudy material. The so-called Master of the World never deigned to leave his cancer of a citadel. If he had, this damn war would have ended years ago. Brick would have personally seen to that.

Sucking in a breath, he let loose a wave of flames as a thought came unbidden to him.

Had they decked Pinky out in gold? Had she been paraded around like a poodle, complete with gold collar?

His flames grew hotter, the screams of the aliens louder, and his blood just continued to boil. Only silence stopped him, his breath ragged, his throat raw from the sheer heat of his fire. Beneath him lay the charred remains of the aliens, smoke wafting from their bodies. It smelled like some kind of cooked seafood, a salty, rotten smell that made his nose wrinkle. He gritted his teeth to keep the bile down.

His hands still twitched.

He wasn't quite panting yet.

"Computer, up five more levels."

The remains disappeared. Three more aliens took their place.

He slammed into them with the force of a small meteor.

One alien hadn't been lucky, crumpling under his assault like a papier-mâché doll. They really needed to calibrate the computer's simulations. The aliens weren't that weak, even the average foot soldier could handle at least a punch from Butch with some difficulty. These were folding way too easily.

Gold flashed in his peripheral.

The alien slammed into him like a steamroller. Its hands wrapped around his neck, metal clinking with each movement from the decorative golden necklace around its own neck. Each tiny piece of metal reflected the crimson of his eyes, the crimson of his heat vision striking it straight between its bulbous eyes. It shrieked, its black maw open before him, and he breathed a wave of flames down its throat before even breaking its hold.

The alien choked and convulsed, pushing him away and clawing at its throat. Sparks and smoke leaked from its mouth. Blood followed afterwards, that foul, foul blood splattering on the ground at its feet. Surprisingly, it didn't fall, didn't die, even as it glared at him with unfocused, milky eyes.

His glowing fist hit it right between them, right over the oozing burn. The energy sparked over it, forming a beam that launched the alien backwards. It hit the side of a building like some kind of ugly starfish, skull dented, but sadly intact. If it hadn't been so durable, that beam might have gone right through.

He wasn't surprised that he was disappointed.

Brick shook out his hand and snarled again. This wasn't doing anything. They really needed to calibrate the simulations, particularly around the aliens. This was nothing. He could still feel his blood boiling, his skin itching despite using so much energy already, and this would not do.

His mind unhelpfully summoned pink energy, pink energy shielded by forest green. He saw a defiant face and then a fearful one, one that moved backwards as he moved forwards. He saw shaking fists and a body as tense as his, but with none of the deadly precision. None of the struggling to keep herself at bay, to keep the itch from consuming her.

No, there had been a struggle there, a struggle of something he didn't understand. A memory trying to take her over, a memory or so Butch claimed.

It had to be a trick, a trick to lure his brother into a false sense of security. Pinky? Suffering from memories that overcame her? She had too much control for that. She was too perfect for that. She couldn't be broken like that, like how Buttercup claimed she was, like how Butch protecting her said she was. That's not… That's not who she was.

She wasn't weak.

She couldn't be broken.

"You don't fucking know how it feels, watching someone who was so strong struggle just to remember what the fuck happened to her!"

His breath felt shallow. His palms burned.

She, of all people, wasn't allowed to break. She couldn't. She was a God damned beacon! A beacon of hope, trust, and light and all those bullshit things! Of all the people this wretched fucking war ruined, she wasn't supposed to be part of that number.

She was supposed to be…

Flames billowed down at the final alien, at the alien that had tried to attack him in his distracted state. It wouldn't work. He had trained too much, far too much to allow something as trivial as that to blindside him. With a dismissive flick of his wrist, the flames stopped and yet another charred remain fell to the ground.

It wasn't enough.

He didn't know why he was so angry. Pinky had always raised his ire, had always made him grind his teeth, and, sure, they had been particularly competitive, but this? This pure rage? He hadn't felt something like this in a while. Not since…

He landed among the remains and took a breath. Lifting his head, he called, "Computer, change parameters. Opponent: BRSK005."

The aliens disappeared.

A figure took their place.

A low growl emitted from his throat before the simulation had even completely formed.

She flipped long red hair over her shoulder, messy and nothing like the silky tresses of Pinky. It was darker too, somewhere between their colors, closer to his almost auburn hair than Pinky's copper. The eyes were wrong too, cruel and wicked and a dark magenta. She smirked at him with a twitch of her head and fluttered her fingers.

"Hiya, Red," she cooed and then placed her hand over her heart. "Miss me?"

Brick felt like his whole body had lit up. His veins screamed with fire, with anger, with rage. His twitching fingers curled into fists so tight they hurt. A trembling that more befit Butch took over him. He didn't deign her a response.

They had entirely based her program off the interactions they had had with her on missions, a combination of eyewitness accounts and whatever video the communications officer had managed to grab. She had proven to be as prone to condescending comments as he once had. Her own haughty and sneering look reminded him too much of a younger him. If seeing Pinky sneaking around with Butch had angered him, Berserk truly enraged him.

Because she was entirely wrong.

He lifted glowing fists.

Berserk sneered. "Oh, big bad general doesn't wanna talk, huh? Fine!"

She slammed her foot down.

He jumped into the air as a pillar of earth followed. She darted after him, a streak of magenta behind her, and he met her punch with his own glowing hand. He caught the other punch too and they struggled, struggled like how he and Butch had only minutes ago. Grappling in the air was different, though, a combination of focusing on flying and the rip-off pressing her full weight into him.

She twisted abruptly, swinging her leg widely and striking him in the hip. Their flight skewed and they went tumbling through the air before he could try to right himself. Pain lanced up and down his side and he snarled, finally breaking their grapple and darting backwards. He retaliated with laser vision, which she blocked with her own. They were at a stalemate for only a moment, until the beams exploded where they met and blasted them both backwards.

Brick caught himself before he hit the building behind him, stopping just shy of the concrete. He almost smiled at the reaction, remembering a similar situation years ago, but the pink rocketing towards him was too dark. Not a soft rosy shade, but vibrant and jarring, completely different to the image in his mind. His would-be smile fell as his anger flared.

He dropped and she slammed into the side of the building, not even checking her speed. She snarled down at him, shaking off debris. He smirked and took off. Her shriek followed, as did a rain of energy beams, which he navigated through with some difficulty. She was particularly precise with her blasts, some even nicking his arms and legs as he swerved.

The chase didn't last long, because it never lasted long. Berserk was not a patient person, though he had only truly fought her a couple of times. The simulation was no different. She shrieked again and pillars of stone shot up in front of him, making him zigzag to avoid slamming into them. She didn't do Cat and Mouse. She didn't have the patience for it.

Not like Pinky did.

How droll.

Well, Brick didn't like playing the mouse anyway, much preferring the cat in that game. He spun and fired his own energy beams, startling his pursuer and forcing her to take cover behind her own pillars. They did a morbid dance between the stone, him firing energy and her shooting rocks at him. Their speed was matched, but his senses were stronger. She had a certain ashy kind of smell, much different than—

He snarled and fired a larger beam than before at the last place he spotted the punk. His mind was crossing into dangerous territory. He needed to focus.

At least the rip-off was putting up more of a fight than the aliens had.

Dodging around another pillar, he found the space before him empty. He didn't let that fool him. Berserk was never the type to leave her prey alone for long. He cautiously floated around it, fists still alight as his eyes darted around.

She slammed into his side, blindsiding him, and they plummeted to the ground. A boom announced their fall and they grappled again, she clawing for his eyes and he trying to keep her from doing so. A vicious snarl screwed up her face, a face too similar to another redhead, and the look was just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

He snarled back at her. The flames in his chest expanded. Somehow, despite her being much smaller than he is, he managed to get his leg between them and kicked her away, following it up with a breath of fire. She screamed and shot above the assault, the end of her ponytail smoking.

"You piece of shit!" she screamed. "Look at my hair!"

His only response was to breathe more fire at her, forcing her dodge in a wide arc. He spun the flames around himself, creating a tornado of fire, crackling and popping and burning around him. Her angry shouts sounded through the heat.

Finally, he was panting. Finally, his body was beginning to ache. The tension was still high, he still felt like he could punch through a building, but he could maybe stand in Pinky's presence now. He could almost say he didn't want to deck his brother, but Butch just had a special way about him that just made most people want to cause him bodily harm.

Sharp stone spires pierced his firestorm. Cursing, he shot away from them and let his flames die.

Berserk met him with a glowing fist, punching him right in the face. This time he didn't manage to roll with it and slammed right back into those spires. They crumbled around him, concrete, earth, and stone burying him. This time it actually hurt.

Though muffled, he could hear her triumphant laughter.

He saw red.

The stone melted. He didn't remember the last time his flames burnt so hot, so hot that they turned white, that they melted pure stone. They wrapped around him as he rocketed right into Berserk's stomach, bringing her down to the ground. Her shriek cut off as they hit the ground with an earth-shaking thud. She was flailing, striking him, but he couldn't really feel it through his sheer heat.

His hands found her throat.

Her face turned red, then purple. She gasped.

Magenta energy flickered.

Flickered to pink in his eyes.

Cold flooded through him and he lurched away from her, flames collapsing to ash around him. He struggled to his feet and backed away, staring at—

At Berserk. It was Berserk. The simulation was Berserk. Even if her hair looked lighter for a moment, her eyes lighter.

The eyes that glared up at him were dark. Were magenta.

His breath shuddered and he called, "Computer, end simulation."

Townsville disappeared. Berserk continued to glare as she disappeared, but her glowing eyes were embedded in his mind. He rubbed his face.

No, the eyes he saw weren't magenta.

He leaned forward, face still in his palms, body aching and tired. A spark flared in his chest, but he couldn't decipher it anymore. Rage? Hate? Fear? It thrummed all the same, thrummed at the memory of pink eyes glowing up at him.

He breathed out through his nose. A groan rocked his chest as he sunk down to his knees. His fingers shook.

He was so tired.

This is not what he needed.

---

When Buttercup had woken up that morning, the sight of two sleep bleary guards on either side of Blossom's door surprisingly didn't affect her. She merely stared for a moment with narrowed eyes, watching them start to squirm self-consciously as she made her eyes glow for emphasis.

It was amusing how intimidated by her they were. She wasn't about to actually attack them. She was curious about why they were hovering around her sister's door, but considering the paranoid nature of Brick, she figured it was some new measure he had decided to enforce. It pissed her off, but what could she do? She hated to admit that there wasn't anything for her to do about it. Whatever the red ruff did, she had to accept. She did it for Blossom because she had asked to listen to his orders, even if they were unfair. Didn't mean she had to like it, though.

Her day then officially started with Bubbles thumping her on the head before dragging her out of the apartment without so much as a greeting. Safe to say, Buttercup started the day with a foul mood and empty stomach.

Two hours later, the only difference was her full stomach. She scowled from her position next to a somewhat roughed up Butch and behind a worried Professor, eyes narrowed at her least favorite Rowdyruff.

They were in a new meeting room this time, different from the last time. Admittedly, it didn't even look like a conference room, but rather an office with dark paneled walls and a large screen behind the heavy looking desk. She briefly wondered where they had stolen it from, what military or government office, because it certainly would have required either a lift or superhuman strength. Two chairs sat before it, one occupied by the Professor, the other filled by an unknown man, another officer she supposed. Butch was leaning against the wall to her right with Boomer further down to his right. Bubbles left her to her own devices and moved to Brick's right.

No one spoke for a minute. Eventually, Buttercup cleared her throat because they did not have all day to stare at each other.

Something about the way Brick was purposely keeping his eyes focused on his papers was pissing her off. His shoulders weren't so much hunched as they were stiff, his knuckles almost white as he gripped one fist with the other. The almost brooding atmosphere painted a rather attractive picture, but Buttercup couldn't find herself appreciating it at all. The way her counterpart was also sending his brother dirty looks only fueled her decision to watch him with disdain.

Of their little meeting, it appeared that it was only the Professor, her and her fellow superhumans, and the man whom she figured was another sergeant or lieutenant or something. She didn't know his name; only that he dealt with most of the recruits and soldiers. Therefore, he was important. Probably. Buttercup honestly didn't care.

There was an inkling under her skin that told her the meeting was, yet again, about Blossom and she was ready to raise massive hell if Brick had decided to do anything to her. She could practically feel her hackles raising the longer they sat there in silence. That was just another thing to piss her off; Brick was just sitting there, completely ignoring them. Damn, stupid Rowdyruff!

"All right! Why the fuck are we here, Brick? It's something important if you even included me," she finally snarled, crossing her arms.

Slowly, Brick raised his eyes from his papers. At that moment, she finally noticed that there were bruises along his jaw and that his knuckles, with the skin drawn tight, actually looked a little ripped up. It looked like he had been in a fight.

She tried to keep the grin from showing. Had Blossom finally stopped taking his shit? That would almost be too good to be true. On the other hand…if Brick had finally let his instincts take over… The green puff let her scowl regrow with more fervor. If Brick had touched a hair on her sister's head, she was going to pummel him. Screw whatever anyone would say.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back. He waved lazily. "Well, I'm sure you already figured it has something to do with Pinky."

She sneered and almost missed the mirrored expression on Butch's face. That surprised her. Lifting her eyebrows, she actually let the anger go for a moment and let her curiosity rise. Whatever had happened had made Butch pissy and that in of itself was interesting.

The green ruff let practically nothing affect him. He was like Teflon. Everything rolled off his stupid hide. He was always cracking jokes at inopportune times. Plus, he seemed like his brother's lapdog, so seeing him angry at Brick fueled her curiosity.

"All right. I'll bite. What pissed you off now?" She tilted her head towards him.

She saw the Professor lean forward in her peripheral, wringing his hands. "Blossom didn't do anything, did she? She wouldn't let herself hurt anyone, Brick! You should know that of all people!"

There was panic and paternal worry in his voice and she felt her chest contract. The Professor had only just gotten all his daughters back. If he was forced to let Blossom go or watch her be executed, she doubted her father would be able to handle it. She felt a frown form on her face.

Brick better answer soon or she was going to stop playing Miss Everything Nice. Spice had always been more her speed, anyway. She would make sure he remembered that.

"For the past month, Pinky has been entering the training simulator in the fitness facility after hours and with the help of an officer passcode," the red ruff explained wearily. He actually rubbed his forehead, the insufferable prick. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Said officer was Butch, it seems. With this cur—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold up!" Buttercup stood straight and turned to stare at her counterpart in shock. "You've been training with Blossom for a month and didn't fucking tell me?"

Butch snorted, rolling his eyes as he gave her a look. "Blossy wasn't exactly honest with ya either, Butterbabe."

"Don't call me that," she growled, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the nickname. "But you've been secretly training with Blossom? For a month?"

"What are you, a parrot? YES, Butters. I have been training with Blossy," he snapped, leaning back huffily and crossing his arms. He glared at Brick. "Except that's going to change now, seeing as how paranoid some asshat is."

Following his glower, she could see a rather disdainful look on Brick's face before it smoothed out. He rubbed the bruise on his jaw as he scrutinized them. She had a feeling that injury had come from Butch. Call it a gut feeling, but she was beginning to believe that there had been a fight over this whole ordeal. Butch's own injuries only furthered that feeling, the bruises along his own jaw and over his arms.

She only just realized that Butch wasn't even wearing his uniform, just a standard issue gray shirt, his fatigue pants, and boots.

"All right, Brick. I'm gonna guess you caught them or something. So what're you gonna do now?" she asked, unconsciously matching Butch's posture .

She lifted her head slightly, though, to look down her nose at the red ruff. She was rewarded with a muscle twitch for the gesture. A smirk wormed its way onto her face.

That was nice. Did her not giving a damn strike a nerve? Poor baby.

"Obviously we must put a guard on her so that this behavior can no longer happen." Brick dropped her gaze as he collected his papers, flicking through them. "That's why you are here, Lieutenant Kenny. As the head of personnel, I will need you to create shifts to watch Pinky. Also, I will need a superhuman to be present with every shift."

Bubbles perked up at that and Buttercup couldn't stop her eyebrows from joining her hairline. The blonde woman hadn't shown any interest in Blossom during the whole month Buttercup had been training under her. In comparison to the usual flat disdain she had seen, the alert and almost excited expression she sported seemed almost weird.

However, Buttercup had to admit, Bubbles hadn't been as cold as she had been the last few weeks. It was as if something had changed since Emmons' death. Certainly, it had only been a day, but she hadn't trained her as hard yesterday after they had left the lab. Maybe it had something to do with the discovery of the blood drug. If learning that Blossom had been drugged and had no control led to Bubbles trusting her more, Buttercup would take it. That was all she cared about. Bubbles beginning to trust their sister again.

Bubbles' reaction to his need for a superhuman hadn't gone unnoticed by Brick. His eyes darted towards her for a moment before they returned to his papers. However, his eyebrows were furrowed as he perused them. It was as if he was upset that she wanted that duty. The green puff found that interesting.

"Bubbles can do that, can't she?" Everyone looked at her and Buttercup frowned at the attention. "What? I've pretty much have had basic training and combat skills down since I was fourteen. This is all stupidly redundant to me. So let Bubbles' handle Blossom."

"…no, there are things you have yet to learn, Buttercup." Brick's voice was almost icy in its coldness. He really seemed to dislike the idea of Bubbles doing anything for Blossom. She narrowed her eyes. "Bubbles, you will continue Buttercup's training. Boomer, as the only superhuman with a rank not on probation, you will monitor Pinky with the two soldiers. Everywhere she goes, you go. She is not allowed outside of her room without you. Butch, as I said, you are on probation. You don't leave my side unless I give you permission. The same prohibitions are in place for Pinky. I will give her leeway to use the simulator in the Professor's lab, but only before curfew and when the Professor is present. Boomer, you can pass that on to her."

"Yes, sir." Boomer saluted, but he glanced worriedly at Bubbles.

The blue puff looked a little deflated, almost defeated, but her jaw was set stubbornly. The expression was familiar to Buttercup. Years might have past, but she still knew when Bubbles was going to try to refute something. The lieutenant stood straighter and tilted herself forward a little bit, preparing to argue for the job.

However, the way Brick set his papers down decisively left no room for argument. The way in which his eyes faintly glowed when he looked at them told them he would accept none.

The green puff almost wanted to start one just on principle, but the Professor, knowing her since he had raised her, simply shook his head at her. Sighing, she rolled her eyes and then stood from her lean.

"Is that all then?" she snapped. She looked impassively down at Brick. "Your paranoia is fucking ridiculous and I still stand by my belief of you being spiteful, but I'll play by your rules, Bricky boy. If only for Blossom's benefit. Otherwise, I would've pounded your fucking ass by now."

"Always a pleasure, Buttercup," Brick retorted, folding his hands. "You're dismissed. Butch, wait for me outside."

Said man scoffed, but complied, following the Professor and Lieutenant Kenny out. Boomer paused at the door after the green ruff had left, waiting for one of the puffs to move.

Both sisters were still staring at Brick, but after a brief shared look, Buttercup nodded her head and headed towards the door. She grabbed Boomer's shoulder and tugged him along, ignoring his indignant complaint. However, the green puff didn't miss the pained look he threw over his shoulder at the closing door behind them.

Once in the hallway, Buttercup released the blue ruff and then leaned against the wall next to Butch, who was experimenting with his multiple injuries. He poked a large bruise on his elbow, murmuring "ow" softly as he did so with a weird spawn of a grimace and smile.

Rolling her eyes at the juvenility of his actions, she raised her eyebrows at Boomer, who hadn't immediately ran off to do his new duty. Instead, he was still staring at the meeting room's door. His pupils looked dilated and Buttercup wondered if he was using his x-ray vision to see through the walls.

She really wondered how her sister didn't see it. The boy had his feelings practically painted across his face whenever it came to her. He was more obvious than a road flare.

"I really doubt Bubbles and General Stick-Up-His-Ass are doing the dirty, Boomer," she remarked, surprising the ruff. She smirked at his flushed face. "I might have teased her about it, but I really don't think Bubbles has those kinds of feelings for Brick."

"…you don't see the way she looks at him, though," Boomer muttered dejectedly.

"Are we really having this fucking conversation? Here? Right fucking now?" Butch spoke up, lifting his head from his bruise. "I think Bubs had a crush back when we were, like, fucking fifteen, but she kinda fucking grew out of it, Boom. I mean, really. Bossman's got way too much fucking stress and baggage to fucking deal with."

"Besides," Buttercup cut in, leering at her counterpart, "Bubbles looked at Blossom the same way. It's not love or some shit like that, Boomer. It's compassion. As much of an ice bitch as she is, Bubbles still is stupidly compassionate. Trust me." Her voice went quiet. "I can tell."

---

Bubbles sighed softly as Buttercup took Boomer out of the room. She was beginning to wonder if she acted too cold around her counterpart. The behavior had been a response to Buttercup leaving and her not wanting to be seen as a crybaby around the Rowdyruffs because of that. From the anger that often flooded her link with Buttercup, she had a feeling that she might be indeed acting too cold.

It was to protect herself, she had reasoned as a child. She hadn't wanted to let herself be swayed by her emotions as she usually had. She didn't have Blossom anymore to help her focus that so she let herself channel her "hardcore" side and wore it like a suit of armor. The only time she let it down was around the Professor and, ironically, Brick.

Speaking of whom, said man was rubbing his face, looking more ragged than usual. This business with Blossom was really weighing heavily on his mind. It wasn't unfamiliar to see the redhead so stressed, but Bubbles just knew that Brick was bottling up the energy she just knew was building from being around her sister. She remembered how much energy she unconsciously gathered when the Boys had first joined. It was like every other day she had had to use her energy in some way.

The blue puff paused at the thought, eyes slightly widening in realization. Brick had given her the numbers on Butch's frequent simulator use the last month, but she had just thought that it was Butch being Butch. However, now that she knew that he was sparring with Blossom, the lieutenant suddenly connected the dots. She wondered if Brick also had, or if he was too stubborn to see. Knowing him, he probably was ignoring facts and just preserving as much of his state of mind as he could.

Bubbles huffed softly. Men.

"Brick," she murmured, gently touching his shoulder. He jumped, but other than slightly wide eyes, his face remained a controlled neutral. "You don't have to protect me from my own sister."

"I'm not," he insisted, returning his gaze to his papers. "I just don't want her mind-controlling you."

The blue puff raised her eyebrows before sitting down next to him and putting her arms on the table as she leaned forward. "Is that what you think she did to Butch? Mind-controlled him? Brick, you and I both know Blossom wouldn't do that."

The red ruff snorted derisively. Bubbles felt insulted by the action.

The general spoke as she was about to call him out on it, "We don't know her anymore, lieutenant. It's been eight years for you and ten years for me. We can't know what she would and wouldn't do now."

"That's you making excuses, Brick Jojo," she snapped, glaring at him. He looked ready to argue, but she cut him off. "I've been living with you for eight years. I've been working with you just as long and have learned your habits. This is you pushing away anything to do with Blossom because you're afraid it's going to affect you somehow."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed, but he no longer was looking at her. Instead, he was glaring at the papers in his hands, his eyes faintly glowing.

Gently, she placed her hand on top of his clenched one. "Brick. Even if the aliens took Blossom, she wouldn't let herself harm innocents. Even with the blood drug, Blossom would not bring harm unless the drug was that strong. The only reason why you're doing this is because you still feel hatred towards her. I can tell, Brick. You're basically my brother."

He didn't immediately respond to her, but really, she didn't expect him to. She knew from experience that the things Brick didn't outright confront were the ones that he didn't know how to deal with. The whole Blossom thing was definitely in that category. If she was being frank, even she herself didn't know how to deal with her older sister either.

Part of her just wanted to stay behind her cold walls in the chance that Blossom actually did betray them. Another part just wanted to curl up in Blossom's arms and just cry. Cry for them and their lost innocence, for Townsville, for everyone who had to fight, and for everyone who had died. It felt a century since she actually had let herself cry. The last time had been the Seattle Massacre, almost a year ago.

And she couldn't let herself cry in front of the Boys, no matter how much they were like family now. She couldn't let anyone see her soft side. This was war and they were smack dab in the middle of it.

"I shouldn't still hate her."

For a moment, Bubbles was confused, having been lost in her thoughts, before realizing Brick was responding to her previous statement. He still had his gaze focused on his papers, but instead of looking almost angry, he instead looked so very tired. He really was taking too much on his shoulders.

She squeezed his hand, willing him to release his grip on the papers. He didn't.

"Brick…" she murmured.

She didn't want to make any unnecessary comments. If she let him, he would tell her by himself.

"I just…I always hated you three, but I always hated Pinky so much more," he muttered, mouth twisting. Talking about feelings was never his nor his brothers' strengths, but she didn't have telepathy like Blossom. He would have to tell her himself. Pulling teeth as it was. "And her arrival is so…inopportune. I just need the responses from the other bases to coordinate our forces and then we can strike. Our Intel and experience tells us that the aliens never fight in winter, so what would be a better time to attack? But suddenly Pinky is here and…I just have too much damn stress handling the planning for the Big Strike. I don't need Buttercup's fucking bitching about being unfair to Pinky to deal with as well!

"And what the hell is with that? Why is your sister so willing to accept that Pinky isn't a spy? She's too fucking trusting for her own good, the damn… I don't understand. I don't understand why so many people are willing to accept her at face value. They don't know what she could be hiding. We don't know. All we fucking know is she was controlled by drugs and trained. The aliens trained her. But do we know for what? No! Of course not. Pinky just conveniently doesn't remember!"

It had been a long while since she had seen any emotion of great magnitude on his face. He was positively livid, eyes glowing as he glared. He really wasn't handling this as well as he had appeared to be.

She almost smiled. Getting him to rant like this was good. It let at least some stress off.

"But both Buttercup and Butch witnessed her remembering something, right?" she said, easing the papers from the general's grip.

"Acting!" he snapped, flexing his fingers. "It's all acting."

"But Blossom is a horrible liar." She shouldn't be having so much fun poking holes into his defense.

"She's had years to practice, hadn't she?" he grumbled, sitting back in his chair and with a scowl. He rubbed his face. "…God fucking dammit, you're right. She was a horrible liar."

This time, she allowed herself a small giggle. "Exactly, Brick. Unless somehow, Blossom is still under the influences of the blood drug after two months, then I doubt she's lying."

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're having fun, aren't you?"

"A little, yes," the blue puff responded, but her smile was sympathetic. "Brick, you can't keep all this bottled up."

"I know," he sighed, leaning his head back. "I just…hate her so much. I'm…" His jaw tightened and the next thing he uttered was so soft, she had to lean forward to hear. "I'm afraid that I'll actually kill her."

For some morbid reason, the confession neither shocked her nor made her panic. She had had a feeling that his reasons for staying as far away from Blossom had to do with his hate. For Brick to say that he was afraid, though, came somewhat as a shock. He wasn't one to show fear, to admit that he ever felt it. He didn't have the luxury of fear.

However, it was progress for the headstrong general to even admit that. His fear wasn't unfounded, either. Bubbles could still remember the vicious amount of bruises, breaks, and burns that Blossom would come home with after a tangle with the red-eyed man. The two of them had always had a vicious rivalry, Blossom once going so far as to say that Brick and his brothers were more dangerous than Mojo. Then again, that had been after a particularly bad battle between the two, but Bubbles could never forget the cut that wouldn't stop bleeding on her sister's forehead.

However, they would get nowhere if they stayed at this point. It was a step for him to admit his hate and his fear, but more needed to be made. If they were ever going to get the two of them to even stand being in the same room, they had to get further than this. She and Boomer could stay in a room now. So could Buttercup and Butch. She was positive that Blossom and Brick could too.

Smiling faintly, she removed her hand from his and touched his cheek, drawing his attention to her.

"Then, to make sure that doesn't happen, you have to acquaint yourself to her, right?" she instructed, ignoring the expression on his face that made him look like he had swallowed a bitter pill. "Don't worry. We won't throw you together cold turkey like what happened with me and Boomer. We'll start out small. Say her name, Brick."

"…what?" He frowned, looking almost confused.

"Her name. Say Blossom." She had been with him for most of his talks about Blossom and not once had he ever said her name. Not. Once.

However, when Brick opened his mouth, looking almost mutinous, an urgent knock sounded from the meeting room door before it opened without so much as an invitation. Both turned to it in surprise as Boomer strode inside quickly, followed by their green siblings. Something flashed across her counterpart's face when he saw her hand on his brother's cheek, but whatever it was passed and he looked past her to his brother.

Now that she looked, the blond man actually looked a little pale and immediately she felt apprehensive.

"Boomer?" Brick sat straight and Bubbles dropped her hand, turning all her attention to the blue ruff. "What's wrong?"

Boomer took a breath, squaring his shoulders. "I just received a report from the Professor. He received a message from Lieutenant Believe. Apparently Mojo will be returning soon."

Bubbles' eyes widened. The chimp had left about a year ago to do a circuit of the Resistance bases in North America, shortly after the Seattle Massacre actually. They had all thought he would be away for the Big Strike, probably holing up with their sister base in New York. Something big must have happened for him to return.

She swallowed thickly. She hoped that something wasn't Blossom.

Bubbles licked her lips and frowned. "Did he give an estimate on when he would return?"

Boomer met her eyes, but he wasn't the one who responded.

"Two weeks," Buttercup responded grimly from the doorway.

She looked displeased, which didn't surprise Bubbles. Her sister had never quite liked the fact they were working with ex-cons. However, she was sure there was more to her displeasure.

And it all centered on Blossom.