Storm
Hello, everyone! I hope everyone is staying home and staying safe! This chapter is a little be a of ride, so I am sorry in advance
Warning: Underage drinking in the middle of the chapter since Buttercup and Mitch are 20 and Butch is technically 19. No one gets drunk, but just a warning.
Chapter 11: Powerpuff
The winds buffeted them, stinging their exposed skin despite the toughness of it. Had they been normal humans, maybe the wind and the ice would have actually left cuts, like a normal person's skin splitting with the cold. Since they weren't, all that they received were red cheeks and trembling limbs.
Bubbles huddled closer to Buttercup more on instinct than an actual desire to be closer to her older sister. Just because they were joining forces to help Blossom didn't mean she had forgiven her just yet. There was just…too much there to unpack. That could be dealt with later. They had a mission and she wasn't going to fail it.
Not with the despair in her throat and the panic in her chest.
"BLOSSOM!" Buttercup screamed, but the wind ripped away her voice.
Just like it had the first few times that they had tried calling out to their sister. They hadn't made it very far from the door, even if the door had disappeared as soon as they had joined the simulation. They couldn't risk ending it and letting the blizzard wreak havoc unencumbered. Just because the simulators were made with duranium did not mean that could withstand the raging storm of ice and snow. Supposedly, the Professor had changed the simulation from a meadow to something out of the Arizona desert, but you couldn't tell that by looking around.
Their feet sunk into snow at least seven inches thick. If there was sand or hard dirt under there, Bubbles certainly couldn't tell. She couldn't even see if there were rocks or cacti in the distance. The snow barely let her see a foot in front of her, let alone anything farther. They didn't even know if they were walking in the correct direction towards their sister. There was nothing besides ice, wind, and despair.
She shivered and clutched Boomer's jacket closer to herself. Her shoulder bumped into Buttercup's as they walked, but her sister made no move to move away. Any kind of heat was better than nothing.
"Blossom!" she called, knowing it was futile, but still needing to try. "Bloss—!"
Coughs cut her off, her throat feeling frozen. Her shoulders shook as she hacked and choked, clutching at her throat and chest. She shivered violently at the chill seeping down her esophagus.
A firm hand rubbed her back.
"Shouting's not working!" Buttercup called over the wind. She was scowling, looking around when Bubbles finally managed to look up. "Shit! Should we try blasting?"
That didn't surprise her that her sister would go straight to that. Rolling her eyes, she straightened, or straightened as much as the bitter wind could let her. There had to be a way to reach Blossom. A way to call out to her…
She stared unseeingly in the blistering white. She rubbed her chest again, right over her heart, right over where it fluttered in a panic not fully her own. They did have a way to reach her, didn't they? They had two ways, technically. This…had to be the reason why they had developed this empathy. To reach each other even when far away. To reach each other and still be connected no matter the distance.
Bubbles closed her eyes.
"Blossom!" she called through her mind and her heart. "Blossom! Please! Where are you?"
"Ugh, of course, you're no help," Buttercup grumbled.
A light lit up through her eyelids.
Bubbles opened her eyes to glare at her sister. With her own scowl, she shoved Buttercup's arm down and the green energy exploded feet in front of them.
"Hey!"
"Did you forget that Blossom has telepathy?" Bubbles snapped. "Have you tried calling her that way?"
Buttercup stared at her before cursing colorfully. She turned away and narrowed her eyes into the storm. The blue puff stared at her for a moment, examining her face, before Buttercup sagged. She was still scowling.
"Nothing," she grumbled.
They staggered as a large gust of wind slammed into them. They grabbed each other to stay on their feet, leaning into one another until the gust ebbed.
Moving hurt, but Bubbles turned her head towards the direction they were facing. The winds hadn't nearly lessened, but at least gusts like that weren't often. Her skin still complained, but her cheeks had gone numb at some point and her fingers were well on their way. She tried snuggling down into Boomer's jacket for warmth, thankful for their difference in size in the moment. The sleeves easily covered her frozen fingers, fingers that still clutched Buttercup.
She jerked away from her sister, but the snow around her ankles made her stumble. A hand grabbed her arm to steady her, which was ridiculous because she could fly. Casting a miffed look at the green puff and tearing her arm away, she nevertheless grumbled her gratitude.
Once upright, she stared into the storm. The panic in her chest hadn't lessened, if anything it felt worse. She bit her nail and rocked side to side. Neither one of them had gotten a response, but Blossom was still in pain. She was still somewhere here, but they couldn't get to her. The wind, snow, and ice were too fast and too thick and each step forward, no matter their strength, felt like a thousand needles sinking into their skin.
"We should try calling together," she finally said, bitter though it was on her tongue. "If she's not responding to us alone, then we have to try together."
Buttercup's lip curled.
"You're right," she grumbled. "I hate it because... I hate it."
Still, she closed her eyes.
Bubbles followed suit and took a deep breath. She tried calling again, but another wave of despair had her gasping. She clutched her chest and looked up in time to see Buttercup doing the same.
Their eyes met.
Without a word, without even a grimace, Bubbles held out her hand. She knew Buttercup was upset for more than just their current situation. She knew she had been upset for years. Bubbles had been upset for years, but, well, they hadn't had their usual voice of reason. Buttercup hadn't listened to anyone, hadn't listened to the Professor, and Bubbles...well, Bubbles didn't want to appear like a crybaby anymore.
Now was the time to put that aside. In this storm, in this blizzard of pain and despair, they had to push aside that they were angry. That they were hurt. That they were upset with each other and with their whole situation. They had to work together, darn it. Their sister needed them.
Buttercup stared at her hand for a long, long moment. She didn't move and her face had gone blank. There was no scowl, no grimace, none of the anger that usually covered up her worry. Green eyes met hers, once more.
Her sister's skin was cold against hers. It was a miracle Bubbles could even feel her skin with how numb her everything was. All the same, it was the connection she needed. After all, they had always been strongest together.
She closed her eyes.
"Blossom! Blossom, please! Answer us!" She called and waited.
Something changed in the wind. Its roar sounded off, like...
Her eyes popped open to see a tunnel of ice and snow before them. It swirled, leaving a perfectly calm path right to—
Bubbles' stomach plummeted. Without a word, without a sound besides a choked "Blossom", she jetted towards the fetal form of her oldest sister. She didn't have to look to know Buttercup was beside her. The doubled panic through their bonds told her more than enough.
"Blossom! Leader Girl, hey!" Buttercup cried as soon as they were at her side.
The snow bit into Bubbles' knees as she knelt next to her sister. Buttercup was on her other side with her hands held out above Blossom's shoulders. She didn't touch her, though. Bubbles didn't touch her either, afraid that if she did, her sister might collapse.
The tunnel did collapse, the winds cocooning them in the eye of the storm. Faint snowflakes fluttered around them, but nothing like the hail beyond their bubble of peace. The sky was white, covered in clouds from Blossom's personal storm, brilliant compared to the dark winds behind them.
Her sister's hair shone like flames against the white, a stark slash of color from her hair cascading down her back. The bright red bow sat askew from fingers tugging at her skull, tugging at her mind. Those fingers tangled in her hair looked blue.
Bubbles wished she had Brick's fire in that moment. Because she felt no warmth from her sister, no faint body heat. Blossom had always had a lower body temperature ever since her development of her ice breath, but not to the point where she didn't generate heat.
Her heart twisted.
"Blossom!" she cried and grabbed her sister's shoulder. "Blossom, please!"
Her sister didn't move.
Bubbles met Buttercup's eyes over her head. She hated the sting in her eyes, hated the wobble in her lip. She had not cried in a moment of crisis in years. She was not about to do it now.
Sucking in a breath, she set her jaw.
"…a monster…"
Bubbles froze.
Buttercup's eyes were wide.
"Blossom…?" Buttercup murmured.
Bubbles leaned closer to her eldest sister. She tried sending comforting feelings through their bond, but she…she didn't know if it was working. That long ago moment that she had felt that bond form, she had done everything to stifle it. Anything so she wouldn't feel Buttercup's grief, her anger, her joy and fear and rage. Such a deep, deep rage. The green puff had never really gotten past the anger stage of grief, not really.
Not if she considered what she had yelled at her years ago.
While the bond to Buttercup had been too much, too much emotion from a person she was trying so desperately to hate, the other bond had hurt all the more. The emptiness, the dull, dull ache of missing something. Occasionally, Bubbles would trick herself into thinking she felt something: anger, determination, confidence. Things she…she knew Blossom would feel in…such a desolate world. They had probably come from Buttercup, but…maybe…maybe that she now had Blossom, maybe those tricks, those illusions had been real. She had shut them down, all the same, though.
Why keep an empty bond open?
She was regretting working so hard on meditating and blocking those emotions out. Blocking the tricks and illusions and the searing nothingness. She had no idea if any of her feelings were reaching Blossom. Any of her pain, her worry, her want to help.
"I'm a…monster," Blossom murmured, but she didn't lift her head. If anything, she curled into a tighter ball. "He's right. I…I'm a threat. I… You should…"
Rage flared through their bond, so much sharper than ever before. Bubbles wobbled from the sheer force of it.
Unblocking her link to Blossom must have unblocked the other one too. She supposed that made some kind of twisted sense, even if she didn't like it.
"Bullshit! You're no monster!" Buttercup snapped. She took Blossom's shoulders and gave them a little shake. "Blossom, Bloss, you are not a monster."
Bubbles wormed her hand out from under Buttercup's. She placed it lower on Blossom's arm. She was almost leaning against her as she smoothed her hair.
Blossom flinched.
"Blossom, what's wrong?" Bubbles murmured. "What…what did you remember?"
"That I'm a monster!" Blossom cried and she finally, finally looked up. Tears, or the frosty tracks of tears, sparkled on her cheeks. Her eyes were pinker than normal, bloodshot from her crying. Her face contorted as a wave of grief hit them all. "I…oh God, how could I…? I'm so, so sorry… I…"
Her face contorted with grief.
She dropped her face back into her hands.
The storm grew closer. The winds howled louder and louder.
A shiver ripped through Bubbles, a shiver that mirrored the shake in her chest. Her teeth clacked together. She tugged Boomer's jacket as tight as she could around her.
"Blossom, you're not… How could you be a monster?" she asked and, for only a moment, contemplated using her hypnosis.
Only for a moment, only to help, but then she remembered the drug.
The blood drug.
Used to make her sister do things she wouldn't normally. To control her.
Like hypnosis
Like she had over a month ago
She decided not to use her hypnosis.
With shaking, frozen fingers, she rubbed Blossom's arm. The sweater she wore should warm her palms from the friction, but it felt like it was frozen too. Ice cracked under her palm. How was Blossom able to move?
"Because…" Blossom murmured, head bent, body beginning to tremble. "Because…Seattle."
An arrow shot through Bubbles' chest. The world narrowed onto her sister. Everything went quiet, even though the storm raged, even though her skin ached from cold. She could only stare at her sister, at her trembling sister, in…shock? Horror? She couldn't decipher what she was feeling. She couldn't…was it shock from Buttercup? From her? She could only stare.
The Seattle Massacre was the worst battle in the history of the Resistance. Even the first few battles they had, before they had settled into a militaristic hierarchy, hadn't been as bad as that battle. Even the first invasion hadn't been that bad.
There had been no survivors, no witnesses to tell them what had happened, nothing when reinforcements had arrived. The report had said there was evidence of energy blasts on the ground and on bodies, on both human and alien alike. A good chunk of the city had been leveled in the battle. The hypothesis was that the Powerpunks had been there because only a superhuman (or a group of them) could do so much damage in such a relatively short time. The claw and scythe marks helped with that assumption, as did the ruined earth.
But ice could ruin earth too.
The Resistance soldiers had had time to call for reinforcements, but by the time they had gotten there, almost a good eight hours later, they had found a wasteland. Or so said the report.
Bubbles hadn't gone to see the remains of Seattle. She hadn't gone to see the battlefield. She had mourned for their lost, mourned for the sheer devastation that had happened, but she had not set foot on that ground. Brick hadn't let her. The Professor hadn't let her. Out of the superhumans at the Resistance, only Brick and Butch had seen that.
That had also been the last time Brick had gone out into the field. He had thrown himself into planning and strategizing after that horrible, horrible day.
And Blossom…Blossom had something to do with it.
Bubbles' breathing picked up.
"…what…are you talking about?" Buttercup growled, her voice low, gravelly, and so, so angry.
"I…I was there," Blossom said and stared at her hands. They shook. She shook. "I… So…so many. I… He told me to destroy so I... The drug was…it was so strong… I couldn't…I couldn't even…think and I… Those…Those poor people!"
The sobs ripped right through her. Bawling sobs, heart-wrenching sobs of desperation and despair and desolation. The ugly kind of sobbing with gasping and heaving and fingers tearing through hair.
Blossom wasn't…wasn't supposed to cry like that. Blossom wasn't supposed to be so broken to cry like that.
Bubbles' breathing seemed to speed up with her sister's. Her fingers had gone numb; her whole body had gone numb.
Another's breathing also picked up, but not from horror, not from panic. It picked up with an all-consuming anger, an overwhelming rage that filled their empathy link and almost blocked out the panic and pain. Flickering green light had her lifting her head.
Buttercup's beast flared around her, the green flames brilliant against the white. Unlike Brick, her fire did not burn, did not give off heat. It glowed and raged and was only really meant to be a warning. If the beast came out, you should run.
Buttercup wasn't seeing them, not really. Sure, she looked like she was staring right at Blossom, but Bubbles knew that those fluorescent green eyes were not focused on her. They had a different target. A target far from them, encased in a shell of black.
"I'm going to kill them. To kill all of them! How-How dare—!" she seethed and snarled and growled.
Bubbles had no qualms letting her sister do so. The numb in her chest was shattering. A thousand pieces of carefully held together steel was shattering and a burning took its place.
The aliens had done this to her sister. The aliens had made her, drove her to become a-become a—
"A monster. A weak, pathetic monster," Blossom hissed and Bubbles wasn't sure if she was responding to her thoughts or not. "I... There was so much blood... No wonder I...I see red all the time. No wonder anger and fear trigger me... They...were all so a-a-afraid! And I—! And I—!"
Her breathing sounded ragged, quick, fast. The cold seeped from her everything, ice cracking over the snow. Her trembling became worse. Her hair fell around her face as shaking fingers tugged and slipped through it.
Bubbles didn't care anymore. Didn't care about armor, about steel, about pretending that she was above emotion. She didn't care that ice and frost was starting to creep over her limbs and that it bit into her skin and hurt worse than a burn. Her heart hurt. Her throat closed up. Her own fingers trembled and she felt the pressure behind her eyes.
She was tired of being strong. Tired of wearing a suit of armor. Tired of fighting, of grief, of this damn war. She was tired of seeing people she loved in pain. Of them being stressed and frantic and on edge. Tired of seeing pink eyes looking hollow and haunted. Tired of seeing red eyes with dark bruise-like circles under them. Tired of cobalt and forest and lime exhausted but resolute. Tired of seeing her father laid up in the medical bay because he had to find a way to defeat the aliens, had to find a way to protect them all. No matter how many years had passed, no matter how thick her armor had become, she was tired of walking through the halls and seeing serious faces, scared faces. Smiles that tried, tried, tried to be bright in a world gone dim.
She was tired of hiding away. And she was tired of keeping her sister at arm's length.
Chest bubbling with more emotion than she had let herself feel in a long time, she threw her arms around Blossom. She stroked her hair and rocked her, rocked her like Blossom used to do for Bubbles, when nightmares woke her up in the middle of the night. She made soothing noises at Blossom's sobs, at Blossom's tears, her heart aching, her chest pounding.
Frozen fingers clung to Boomer's jacket. Ice tinkled and cracked over the fabric. Bubbles didn't care.
"I'm sorry, Blossom," she murmured, squeezing. "I'm so sorry that happened to you!"
"He-He told me to destroy," Blossom said without hearing her. Bubbles squeezed her tighter. "And I…no discrimination… I just…I destroyed!"
Bubbles' heart wrenched at the sheer amount of despair. The sheer amount of pain, of sorrow. Her big sister had always been the most heroic, had always been the one who just…couldn't stop being a superhero no matter what. She had been the best of them, the strongest and bravest and so, so bright. Being good, being a hero, was just…second nature to Blossom.
And look what Aterex had done.
Look what he had twisted her sister into doing with his foul drugs and fouler blood.
Bubbles' hold tightened again, but she tried not to choke her poor, hysterical sister. Tried not to cause any more pain when all Bubbles wanted to do was follow Buttercup into battle.
"Blossom, we're here," she murmured. "You're not…"
She paused, a lump in her throat stopping her. Her own watery gasp joined Blossom's.
"You're not a monster," Buttercup growled and her strong arms enclosed on both of them. "You, Leader Girl, are not and were not a monster."
Blossom only sobbed, pressing her face to Bubbles' shoulder. Frozen tears stung whatever exposed skin was there, but the blue puff couldn't seem to care. She stroked frozen hair instead and rested her head against hers.
Blue eyes met ferociously glowing green. At least the beast was at bay, but Buttercup was still taut as a bowstring. If Bubbles, or Blossom, gave the word, she would shoot through the base, would shoot outside, and hunt. Blossom was sobbing that she had been told to destroy, but Aterex hadn't fought the beast. Even Bubbles knew the ferocity and danger when her sister let loose, let all inhibitions go and fought.
Buttercup could destroy too.
"But—!" Blossom sobbed. Her shoulders shook harder and both Bubbles and Buttercup pressed closer to her. "All those p-p-people!"
Bubbles gritted her teeth and pulled away from her sister. Cupping her cheeks, she forced those rose eyes to meet her own.
Her heart twisted at the shattered look they held.
"That doesn't matter!" she snapped and a sudden hush befell them. "That wasn't you! You were controlled, you were drugged! And there was too much evidence of energy attacks for it to be you alone!"
"The…The punks were…with me…" her sister shakily agreed.
"Exactly! And we've fought those rip-offs!" Bubbles continued with a snarl. "We've seen how…how ruthless and destructive they are! You alone could not have caused that massacre! You are not a monster!"
"But—"
"No! No but's!" she growled. "You are not, were not, will never be a monster! You are my sister and that, no matter what happened, will never change!"
Blossom stared at her, eyes wide, tears still leaking, but entirely shocked. Her mouth slowly dropped open. She blinked rapidly at her, as if she couldn't comprehend what she was saying. The despair began to ebb, a slow, small warmth worming through it.
The wind died. The air seemed brighter. Bubbles didn't dare move her eyes from her big sister's gaze, though, adamant that she realize how truthful she was. Nothing would change them being sisters. Not this massacre, not eight years, not anyone else's opinion. Bubbles had spent too long keeping a distance that she didn't even want to keep. She was done.
"…do you…mean that?" It wasn't Blossom's voice.
Bubbles spared a glance for her other sister, taking in Buttercup's own shock, before she gave one firm nod. The two of them would have to have a talk, but right now, Blossom needed them.
"We're the Powerpuff Girls," she said and Blossom sucked in a breath. She returned her eyes to hers. "And we're sisters. Those two things will never ever change! Whatever happens next, we-we'll get through…get through it t-t-together!"
Tears spilled from her own eyes and the emotions she had been suppressing for a long, long time burst out. Her own sobs shook her and she hugged Blossom again. Her sister reciprocated fiercely.
"Oh, Bubbles, I'm s-sorry!" she sobbed.
"I missed you! I missed you, I missed you, I missed you!" Bubbles buried her face in her neck. "Everything…Everything sucked without you! I-I love you, B-B-Blossom!"
"I l-love you t-too!"
Again, strong arms enveloped them. Buttercup pressed her head to the two of theirs, her breath hitching.
"You two are gonna make me cry," she growled and her voice sounded thicker and rougher than usual. "And you're damn right! We'll get through this. The Powerpuff Girls are back together!"
"I've never…never stopped considering…myself a Powerpuff," Bubbles breathed. "I…I always knew y-you'd come back, Blossom!"
She heard Buttercup suck in a breath and her embrace tightened. Her middle sister nudged her head with hers.
"I'm s-sorry it took me so long," their big sister answered, squeezing her. She pulled away from them and she looked so much calmer than before. Her eyes still shown with tears, still looked too red, but there was a serenity there that had been missing. "I'm back, girls."
The living quarters were quiet and dark, the day-night cycle of the lights indicating that it was now night. To be precise, it was midnight, but Buttercup didn't care.
She sat in the stupid little garden, the little garden that was barely twenty feet square, and just...let her mind go. She was spent, tired, but her mind was rushing and she could still feel her beast in her veins.
Those aliens had made her sister kill. Had made her join in on a massacre that had even shocked the rebels. Blossom hadn't remembered much else besides that, though, but neither she nor Bubbles were going to try to get anything else out of her. Not with her shaky and trembling, close to suffering from hypothermia from her own ice.
They hadn't explained what had happened to the Professor or Boomer. They hadn't known how to soften the blow, how to explain that they wouldn't let anyone harm their sister for her involvement in that tragedy. They didn't know how they would react, either. The Professor was already so tired and everything about Blossom stressed him. This would have been too much.
And Boomer... Buttercup had threatened Boomer to keep quiet about what had transpired, no matter the confusion and worry on his face. The snarling beast under her skin helped with her threat, lighting her skin and eyes with emerald fire.
He hadn't argued.
They had spent the rest of the day in their apartment with Robin visiting to check on Blossom and only Buttercup or said nurse running out for food. Bubbles hadn't moved very far from Blossom's side, alternating between stroking their sister's hair and crying gently into her shoulder. It was almost unsettling the amount she was crying, much more so than she ever had when they were kids, but, well, she had been a steely bitch for a long time.
Guess it was time for the emotions to come out.
They hadn't talked yet, but, well, both had silently agreed to focus on Blossom. Blossom who still looked fragile, who curled up in her bunk and against Bubbles' side. She barely spoke to them, but they could feel the warmth of her happiness, the sour of her shame, and the faint burn of retribution. Or maybe that had been Bubbles. It was hard to tell now, now that Bubbles had stopped muting herself.
Something clinked, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she turned to find Mitch standing there. He held two bottles of semi clear liquid and a questioning look on his face.
He lifted one.
"How'd you sneak these in?" Buttercup asked, reaching for the offered bottle.
He snorted and took a seat next to her under the small, decorative tree. She had no idea what it was, but was amazed all the same that it was thriving underground.
"Please, everyone was so antsy about Blossom that no one thought to check if there was contraband moonshine," he said and uncorked the bottle. He took a swig. "Oof, still burns."
"Pansy." She took her own swig with a grin.
Their shoulders bumped.
"...so what happened earlier?" His voice was low, comforting.
Her fingers tensed on the bottle. She took another swig.
"I'm gonna fucking kill those aliens," she snarled. "Fucking rip Aterex's head off and wave it around like a God damn flag!"
"Uh, I knew that, but what's got you fired up?" Mitch pressed.
He looked remarkably unperturbed when she turned to him. Only his eyebrows lifted when she just glared. Well he had been there when she first let her monster out, so he of all people was used to it.
Another swig, another snarl.
"Blossom remembered something."
"...that explains why both you and Bubbles dropped during training," he murmured. "The empathy thing."
"Yup," she muttered, popping the P. "And it was...it was horrible."
"...horrible?" he echoed, but the sound of stomping boots cut them both off.
Buttercup lifted her head and then tensed. She had the frame of mind to pass Mitch her bottle before she broke it and didn't take her eyes off Butch. With as much casualness she could, she rested her arms on her knees and kept her gaze level on him.
He looked haggard and pissed, his eyes faintly glowing in the dark. His shoulders were tense, tense in a way that didn't look right on him. He wasn't the type to worry, to bottle things up and scowl at every living thing. That was more a Brick thing.
He paused when he spotted them, probably noticing the glowing of her own eyes. Immediately, he changed course towards them.
He didn't even greet them. Just grabbed Mitch's bottle of moonshine and knocked half of it back.
They both raised their eyebrows.
"Rough day?" Buttercup muttered as he wiped his mouth.
"My brother is an ass," Butch responded before nodding appreciatively at the bottle. "Damn, I am so glad you snuck this shit in. Best shit this side of county line."
"What do those fucks over in Farmsville have that we don't?" Mitch sniffed. "That's a Mitchelson homebrew special!"
Raising an eyebrow, Butch just stared at him before he grinned and took another gulp. He belched and pointed dramatically at them.
"Hops."
Mitch rolled his eyes and took a gulp from Buttercup's bottle.
She frowned, but they had traded much worse than spit. Swiping it, she took a gulp herself, a large one like her counterpart, and belched as well.
"Gross," he remarked and she sniffed.
Placing a hand delicately over her chest, she tilted her chin up in the prissy way that Blossom used to do. "I am a lady."
"Buuullshit," both Butch and Mitch sang, the former taking a spot on her other side.
There wasn't much room between them, barely a breadth the size of her finger. She let her eyes drop to that gap, to that space, and took another swig. Strong as it was, it took a lot to make her tipsy, let alone drunk.
She had learned that the hard way.
"Surprised Brick let you off the leash," she commented, trying and failing to calm her beast at the thought of the red ruff.
They couldn't let him know about Seattle. She didn't know if they could tell anyone about that because that tragedy had shaken everyone. Brick, the Professor, Bubbles, Mojo. Buttercup remembered the stricken faces of soldiers, remembered the grave set of Brick's face and shoulders, the fire that burned in his eyes. She remembered Butch's uncharacteristic somberness after that, the way he seemed tenser than normal, the way he would return with more and more cuts and bruises from routine missions.
Boomer and Bubbles had gotten quieter, but they hadn't seen the city. Butch and Brick had. Buttercup could only wonder what they had seen. She had never left to check it out, too busy keeping the rebels from panicking and falling to pieces after that massacre.
A part of her hadn't wanted to see it anyway.
"Bossman's in his office. Probably not gonna sleep again, the motherfucker," Butch answered with a shrug. He took another drink. "...so what happened with Blossom?"
Buttercup stiffened.
"...what do you mean?" she muttered.
"Buttercup." That wasn't how he usually sounded. He didn't do serious, but then the image of his face post the massacre flashed in her mind and she gritted her teeth. When it came down to it, he could be serious, couldn't he? "Boomer literally texted me asking about Blossom today. What. Happened?"
She stared across the garden, down the hall that led to her apartment. A faint contentment echoed from there, a faint feeling of safety and rightness.
The complete opposite to the despair she had felt only hours ago. The complete opposite to wind and snow roaring in her ears. To desolation and pain freezing her insides.
She breathed deeply.
"...Blossom remembered something...bad," she said softly, not taking her eyes off the hallway. She swallowed. "We...didn't tell Boomer what it was. We didn't...We didn't even tell the Professor..."
Two shoulders bumped into hers. Her breath shook a little and she turned to Butch.
He stared back at her, eyes faintly glowing, but not from irritation. It was just their normal night vision. His face softened, worry creasing his forehead.
"What did she remember?" he murmured.
Her eyes hardened and she squared her shoulders. She met his gaze and leaned forward, letting her beast flicker up her arms and over her skin. Butch had never been scared of her, had never feared her like she had wanted him to, but damn it would she try now.
She would become whatever monster she needed to become to protect her sister.
"Promise me that you will not tell Brick," she growled. "We'll...We'll tell him, but right now...Butch, please. Blossom doesn't need that right now."
He stared back at her.
"All right."
That wasn't what she wanted.
She grabbed his collar and yanked him towards her. Their noses brushed as she got right up into his face. Vaguely, she heard Mitch hiss her name, but she needed the damn Rowdyruff to promise her.
"Promise me, Butch, or I will castrate you," she snarled. "We will tell Brick. But...not right now. Not when..."
She faltered and gritted her teeth. She let him go and leaned away. Her head pounded.
He took a breath and nodded.
"...I promise," he said in a voice that was too gentle for him.
Her lip trembled and she nodded sharply.
"Good," she mumbled and turned away.
Her breath shook. She scrubbed her face. Blossom's crying, frozen face flashed behind her eyelids, that shivering, trembling form of her once proud sister. She shivered, the phantom chill of that blizzard biting her skin. An echo of that storm raged in her ears. Her fingers trembled, so she shoved the bottle of moonshine back into Mitch's hands.
She rubbed her arm to chase away that ghostly chill. Her skin felt dry.
"...Blossom...was at...Seattle," she finally whispered.
Mitch sucked in a sharp breath. Butch cursed.
"No, she-she wasn't," Mitch breathed.
Buttercup scoffed. "I wish. But...what she described..."
"I destroyed...everything... Humans, aliens, I didn't distinguish... It was...a wasteland when we were done."
She rubbed her face again.
"Buttercup," Mitch murmured and rubbed her shoulder.
"He told her to destroy," she breathed. "He told her to destroy and she did because the fucking coward drugged her! He drugged her and-and fucking-fucking fuck, I'm gonna fucking kill Aterex!"
Her monster flared around her. Her lips pulled back in vicious snarl as she imagined what the so-called Great King looked like. Probably like any of the other fucking aliens. Living inkblots that fucking moved like some kind of rubber doll. Those large, blank eyes that still condescended everyone they gazed upon.
She would rip those eyes out first and then shove them down his throat before she cut off his head. Her fingers twitched for the violence, for the blood.
"You'll have to get in fucking line."
That growl, so low and so angry, startled her out of her own rage.
She turned and looked at Butch, at her counterpart who was leaning forward and clenching his own fists. Her skin prickled at the energy arching over his tense arms, the green sparks that danced up and down the fabric of his uniform. His eyes glowed that deep green, which almost took over his whole eyes, too similar to when Brick get angry. Maybe that was a Rowdyruff thing.
Maybe it was a superhuman thing.
He too was snarling, sharp teeth bared and his shoulders shaking from him repressing his power. Not that that did much, considering the sparks and arcs jumping up and down his body. Her own monster reacted to it, reacted in that way that they always had. No time spent together, no time getting used to each other, would ever calm the instinctive thrum in her blood and jolt through her limbs when his power leaked out like that.
And all because Aterex had tortured Blossom. All that anger, all that rage, because that fucking alien had drugged her sister and forced her to commit the greatest tragedy they had ever seen. Something swirled amidst her own anger as she stared at him.
A vicious grin curved up her lips. "Please, bitch, you'll be second in line. Hell, I'll even let you hold 'im down when I cut off his fucking head."
Butch's eyes literally sparked, but his sneer became a smirk. He leaned a little closer to her, their faces a breath apart.
His sparks danced with her flames.
"We'll just have to see who gets to him first, huh, Butterbabe?" he hissed.
She snarled at him.
"All right, as hot as it is watching you two talk bloody nothings at each other, chill," Mitch spoke up. He had jumped off the planter apparently and stood a couple feet away. He pointed at them with the bottle of moonshine, eyebrows risen. "And what the fuck's with you, Butch? Since when we're you all protective of Bloss?"
Buttercup snorted as she leaned away from her counterpart. Her monster ebbed and heat gathered in her cheeks as she realized just how close she and Butch had been. She could still feel the twining of their power, of his sparks and her monster, and it felt…weird. Good weird, but weird all the same. She didn't really know how to describe it.
She was just happy that he would be right there with her when they hunted down Aterex. Between the two of them, there was no way the aliens would be able to stand a chance.
"It's because this asshole has been training Blossom for the last month or so," she answered for him.
She shoved him with her elbow. Her arm tingled from the green arcs still running up and down his arms.
Butch rolled his shoulders and shoved her back. He sneered at her, rolled his eyes, and took one last swig of the moonshine.
Mitch just stared, looking even more surprised. "Seriously?"
"Benefit of a doubt, Mitchelson," Butch answered, wiping his mouth. "If me and my bros get one, then Blossy sure as hell gets one."
"I think you mean if Mojo gets one," Buttercup muttered, but she let the frustration leave with a sigh. "Benefit of a doubt, huh? …you'd think Brick would remember that."
"You'd think, but the man is a stubborn ass," he mumbled, rolling the empty bottle between his hands. "You'd think a former Rowdyruff would remember that…"
"All right, hold up." Mitch held up his hands and Buttercup was so glad he had caught that too.
Boomer had said nearly the same thing just a month ago, hadn't he?
"Yeah, hold up," she agreed and leaned against his arm. "What's with the 'former Rowdyruff'?"
Butch's mouth flattened, his jaw clenching, before he blew out a loud breath. His face looked almost conflicted, eyebrows furrowed and eyes still glowing too brightly for night vision.
"…it was…part of getting people to trust us," he mumbled. "Rowdyruff had…too many bad connotations, Brick said. So…we stopped referring to ourselves that way. Which, I don't get, because…because that's what we are. You're the Powerpuffs and we're…we're the Rowdyruffs…" Abruptly, he looked up, looking towards her, and his expression turned troubled. "Unless you…you don't think of yourself as… I mean, Bubs hasn't…"
She had never seen him like that before, unsure, concerned. He…didn't look like that. He was cocky, aggressive, and just an idiot. Looking so lost didn't fit him.
Her fists clenched. She didn't like that expression on him. Just like she didn't like the same expression on Blossom's face.
Buttercup scoffed and tilted her nose up. She even flipped her hair because she needed to get some kind of smile out of him.
"Please, Butchy boy," she said haughtily. "I will forever and always be a Powerpuff Girl. All three of us will and, yes, that includes Bubbles."
She pointed at him as she said it, eyebrows raised, challenging.
He stared for a moment, still unsure, before a grin cracked the uncertainty. Immediately, her shoulders relaxed.
"I'm glad to hear that," he said and, damn it, that sincerity was even weirder. Then the grin turned mischievous and that was so much easier to handle. "So the ice bitch ain't so icy anymore?"
She snickered and shoved him.
Her chest felt warm, but in a different way from the warmth from her sisters. A warmth that…was a little similar to the warmth she used to get with Mitch, before stress and grief and the rebels smothered it.
She wasn't going to dwell on that.
"Oh, shut up!"
At five AM, the archives were dead, which was understandable. The main archivist, an old veteran named Petunia Paulsen, didn't arrive until around six AM and then Ms. Keane arrived at seven to prepare for the small class she taught. Bubbles still didn't like there being children so close to center of the alien empire, but they were mostly orphans of soldiers who had fallen in battle from the Townsville Branch. Her heart throbbed at that and she sighed softly, pausing in her perusal of the files from a year previous.
Putting up her armor had been harder than she thought now that she had sobbed her eyes out in Blossom's arms. She had spent the better part of the night curled together with her sister, sleeping in spurts because Blossom would shake or shiver occasionally in her own sleep and Bubbles wanted to prevent another blizzard. Their little apartment wouldn't be able to handle it, for one, and she wouldn't know how to explain it to Brick or the other lieutenants, for another. She yawned softly and shook the thought from her mind.
They would tell them (or, at the very least, tell the Professor and the Boys) about the Seattle Massacre in due time. She wanted Blossom to feel better, to accept that her sisters were with her now, before they did. As much as Buttercup didn't like it, they couldn't keep something like this a secret for long. It was too big, too important, and a major clue to figuring out the catalyst of Blossom's amnesia.
If the massacre wasn't the catalyst itself. Bubbles wouldn't be surprised if it were, honestly.
"Aha," she mumbled as her fingers danced over the file.
She pulled it out and immediately began to read over it.
While all of their files were electronic, most of the bigger events were also on paper. The Seattle Massacre was one such event, the file not nearly as thick as one would expect. Then again, the list of the dead didn't go into nearly as much detail as the electronic copy. She was honestly glad for that because she didn't want to read into the details, read into the explanation of an energy burn on someone's chest and wonder if the energy had been pink.
Her fingers trembled a little. Her breath felt a little shallow and she stared at the paper, but saw a tear soaked face instead. Tears that sparkled with frost, rosy eyes that were bloodshot, and skin so cold that it could have belonged to a corpse.
A shiver shot down her spine and she shook her head.
That was never going to be a way to think about her sister. It hadn't been when she was younger and it definitely wasn't now. Even if she had been deathly cold, even if Bubbles could still feel the sting of her frozen fingers against her skin.
"Now, why are you in the archives so early, lieutenant?"
She jumped at the voice, her feet literally leaving the ground in her surprise. Her only solace was that she made no noise, but she was still floating almost a foot above the ground. She turned, a little flustered, before pouting at the half-smile that she received.
"I could ask you the same thing, general," she huffed and landed. She frowned as she took in Brick's face, zeroing in on the dark circles under his eyes and the tension that lined them. "Did you sleep last night?"
He waved her off.
"I have too much to do," he responded, stepping up to the cabinet next to her. He immediately began shuffling through the files there, even as she continued to stare at him with a frown. "…three hours."
"You can't survive on three hours of sleep, Brick!" she snapped.
"I have people I need to coordinate, there's everything to do with the Big Strike, and, of course, dealing with those fucking idiots who think I don't deserve to be general," he growled back, eyes narrowing and glowing at the papers. "Plus, your sister."
"Which one?" she couldn't help asking before she could stop herself.
He paused, an eyebrow lifting as he turned to her.
"Does it matter?" he asked and turned back to his searching. He hummed and lifted a file. "Between Buttercup and Blossom, my plans have been severely derailed. Not to mention Mojo."
"Yes, well, no one predicted—" She blinked owlishly. "What did you…?"
Brick had turned away, nose already deep in his file. She hadn't caught the name on it, but she honestly didn't care.
Before he could take more than a couple steps, she was grabbing his arm and tugging him back towards her. He really was sleep deprived because such a tug shouldn't have made him stumble. Then again, she might have used too much strength. She really hadn't been paying attention in her haste to keep him from leaving.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she cried, steadying him before she pointed a finger in his face. "But repeat what you just said!"
"Not to mention Mojo?" His smile told her that he knew exactly what she meant and he was ignoring her.
She stomped her foot in a show of juvenile frustration, something she hadn't done in a long time. She ignored his surprised look.
"Oh! You know exactly what I mean, Brick Jojo!" she huffed, but a smile broke across her face. "You said Blossom's name!"
Brick shrugged and returned his attention to his file. A faint red tint to his cheeks told more than his voice did.
"You said that I should start acclimating myself to her," he explained as he flipped a page. "Saying her name is just a baby step, of course, and you are very well adept with interpersonal relationships so I suppose I should listen to you, Lieutenant Utonium."
Bubbles' smile dropped as she remembered her relationship with Buttercup. They may have taken some kind of step towards reconciliation, but they were nowhere near the closeness they once had. However, he had a point: baby steps.
Setting their differences aside to help their big sister was a step. Calling herself, calling all three of them, a Powerpuff Girl was an even bigger one.
"Well, I'm proud of you," she told him and looked down at her own file. Her mouth twisted as she looked over the report. "…it's something, at least."
The descriptions she read rang with Blossom's voice. A wasteland burnt by energy blasts, by laser beams, by heat vision. Bodies strewn all over, a mixture of human and alien. Burned and maimed. Some bodies only recognizable because of dental records.
Complete destruction.
"He told me to destroy…and I…"
Her grip tightened on the paper, crinkling it.
Another hand eased it from her grip. Her brain sluggishly remembered that she didn't want him to know yet, but she was too mired in the memory of Blossom's despair, of Buttercup's rage, of her own shock.
"The Seattle Massacre?"
His voice was too calm, too low, and she stiffened.
Her wide eyes snapped up to his. She hoped she didn't visibly swallow. "The anniversary is soon. I…I just remembered the other day."
Red eyes stared at her, not glowing, but tired and too shrewd for her liking. She had always thought Boomer to be the most observant, but there were times where Brick just seemed to know things. If she didn't know any better, she would almost say he was the one with telepathy.
Those eyes dropped to the file. His shoulders sunk as he read, the frown more pronounced, the tension around his eyes tightening. He sighed deeply and that exhale alone sounded defeated.
"Lieutenant Kenny mentioned you and Buttercup collapsed yesterday during training," he began and Bubbles stiffened again. "He said that you two disappeared not soon afterwards and never returned to training. I also received a report from Mr. Sglue about a...situation with the simulator. Did something happen?"
She took a breath.
When they were children, when she and her sisters had to ever lie, Bubbles had been the one to do it. Blossom couldn't lie herself out of a paper bag, constantly getting her stories mixed up or just making things worse. Buttercup could lie, but she needed time to practice, otherwise she flailed on her words when put on the spot.
Bubbles, on the other hand, had wanted to be an actress when she was seven and what was acting, but creative lying? Besides, no one expected the sweetest Powerpuff to be able to lie to your face with a smile. It was a skill she kept close, a skill she used when everyone underestimated her.
She just hoped that Brick was too tired to read her like a book. If her hypnosis worked on him, she would have used that, but they had long since discovered that he was the only one immune to it.
"Blossom remembered something," she began. Every good lie had a kernel of truth, after all. "There were a lot of emotions coming through our empathetic link, but…whatever she remembered, she didn't want to talk about it."
He lifted his eyes and stared at her. She didn't dare look away.
"…and you happened to remember about the Seattle Massacre at the same time?" he asked in a carefully neutral tone.
"Before that, actually," she lied smoothly. "Yesterday morning, I was thinking that we're almost halfway through September. You planned the Big Strike for December, since it will be colder then. Like playing telephone. I just remembered the massacre and I…just wanted to reacquaint myself with the file."
His face was blank, even the tension lines gone as he searched her expression. He let his eyes drop back down to the papers.
His voice was low, worried, when he next spoke. "…haven't you already memorized this, Bubbles?"
Her eyes widened.
She swallowed again, clenching her fists to control the tremor she felt begin to shake them.
She did have it memorized. She had read the report so many times in the aftermath of that horrible day, memorizing each name and cause of death. She had tucked away every eyewitness report into her heart, able to quote the ones that she had deemed most important: Brick, Butch, and Lieutenant Hernandez. Butch's report had been short and simple because he didn't sugarcoat and he didn't hide details. Brick's and Lieutenant Hernandez's had been longer, but had the same details within them. They had found a wasteland and they had found death.
Bubbles may not have a photographic memory like Brick or Blossom, but this she would always remember. All the deaths from the beginning of the invasion to now, particularly of those who had died on missions she had supervised. Particularly those who had died during the Seattle Massacre, now that she suspected that this was the catalyst.
The catalyst that had broken her sister.
Her eyes also dropped to the papers. Memorizing deaths didn't mean she had memorized exact details. The online file had more information than the paper one, but she had to feel the weight of the document in her hands. Paper was nothing to them, but this file was as heavy as any mountain.
"Memories aren't always clear," she answered finally and took the file back. She looked up at him then and couldn't read his expression. "Please get some rest, Brick. We need you in top form most of all."
Nodding her head, she left the archives then with the weight of the world in her hands.
The bridge between Townsville and Citiesville and its surrounding area had long since been called a military exclusion zone. No one was supposed to get within four blocks of the area due to just how open it was to the sky. Any aliens flying over could spot people on foot and most cars that the Resistance had salvaged were only used on very rare occasions when they needed to travel between bases. There was no reason to cross the bridge until the final battle anyway.
…whenever that damn upstart of a general would call it.
Lieutenant Trey Torino had not enjoyed learning that some superpowered brat was the new general of the West Coast Resistance. Sure, the kid had to correspond with the other generals around the globe, but for the most part, everyone followed his word. What did some kid who couldn't even drink yet know? (Though drinking laws and such had gotten supremely lax following the apocalypse. What did anyone care anymore if some sixteen-year-old drank booze? Everyone drank at this point.) He had just appeared out of nowhere, overtaking other more experienced lieutenants and had stolen that role.
Townsville had always been weird. A kid as a general was just the cherry on top of everything else in this hellhole. The fact that the kid also had superpowers didn't help, either.
Not only did Torino have to listen to a damn kid, but he had to listen to a freak as well. He would admit he was one of the few who thought that superheroes and their ilk could all disappear. The crazy villains only showed up because the heroes rose against them. Hell, these damn aliens probably showed up because of the God damn Powerpuff Girls! If those three girls hadn't started traipsing around with their freakish powers, maybe they wouldn't be in a warzone.
Torino was sick of living like this. He had been a veteran once, honorably discharged after serving his years, and here he was again. Back in a war.
The brat said he had a plain, had said to call back their units, keep them close, and await orders, but he didn't think so. That kid had no idea what he was doing.
That was why Torino stood with his own unit on the bridge. In the MEZ. He would prove to the damn kid that he knew nothing and should step down as general. He had read the reports. The alien forces had appeared haphazard lately, confused and agitated. They may react with killing precision, but they were reactionary. He didn't know why that was, but it was the perfect time to exploit them while they were disjointed.
"Let's go!" he called and waved for them to start crossing.
Townsville was the heart of the empire, after all. Take out the heart and everything else fails.
Crossing the bridge proved so easy it was disconcerting. They moved among the abandoned cars, long rusted and beginning to overgrow with whatever kind of plants survived out here. The fact that any plants grew on the bridge was disturbing. How quickly nature tore down man's pride.
Torino didn't let unease hinder him, of course, signaling for scouts to go before them as they made their way into Townsville. The main body of the unit moved slowly into the metropolis, vying for cover over the openness of the bridge. The sound of gulls faded the farther they walked into the empty streets. Any birds that would roost in the city had long since fled from a combination of human influence and the aliens themselves, so the air was empty of birdsong. It was empty of all kind of noise, save their own.
The scouts returned and reported nothing. There were no aliens doing a patrol, no scavengers, and no ships lazing in the sky. They were clear.
Giving a sharp nod, the old lieutenant waved them forward, deeper into Townsville.
He had used to venture to the city when he was younger, when the city was alive and its buildings didn't appear grief-stricken. It had been a great city, despite its misfortune. Sky-high crime rates, monster every other week, then mutants and freaks littering its streets. Despite it all, he remembered the city trying to keep its chin up, to keep a smile on its people's faces among the chaos. It had glittered, even with broken glass and bruised heart.
And now it was a shell.
Citiesville wasn't better, but Citiesville had always had a grayer outlook than Townsville. Suffering from people trying to escape the chaos, from criminals and felons taking shelter there to lie low. It hadn't been the best city, but it had been home.
The twin cities stood vacant, quiet, no bustle, no hustle. Their populace decimated, but only one had a cancer in its heart.
And they were the doctors here to cut it out.
Torino lifted his chin and strode forward, confident now that they had no opposition. This was exactly why that kid shouldn't be a general. Pulling back their soldiers from here? There was nothing here!
Something green flashed in the corner of his eye.
He turned just as blood sprayed across his face.
The screams came next.
It was one of them. Those superpowered sluts that sided with the aliens. The ones that looked like those freaks, those Powerpuff Girls, but were…wrong.
The woman, monster, thing, pushed back her shaggy hair with a bloody hand. Blood trickled down her face, which she wiped with a flick of her tongue. Glowing emeralds met his eyes.
Torino brought up his gun.
She grinned.
"You done fucked up," she rasped. Glittering scythes appeared in her hands. "Where's Blossom?"
He leveled the gun. "Who?"
Her eyelids lowered and she frowned in disappointment. Her scythes spun.
"Not you shits, huh? Oh well, you're just pests anyway." Her grin was back, bigger than humanly possible with sharp teeth like a shark. "Goodbye, bugs."
Torino emptied his gun, but she didn't react. She just laughed loudly, maniacally, and dived into his men. The last thing he saw was a wicked grin above him before something cold sliced through his neck.