Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who is reading this story. I know it's not the typical PPG fanfiction, but hopefully you guys are enjoying the ride anyway :)
Chapter 3
Drive
Femme Fatale waited three days for those bozos at the Saga Cartel to deliver her money, and she grew more impatient as every day she took the bus to the old warehouse district and yet they never showed up. Part of her felt like they were trying to humiliate her on purpose because of the way she kicked Moose's butt.
As Femme Fatale made her way around Townsville each day she became more accustomed to what life was like on the outside. There were more people that had smartphones and tablets on their person at all times. Part of her thought it might be worth stealing them from the tech shops around the mall, but then she realized that they were so ubiquitous that most of them probably weren't even worth all that much. She didn't yet know which brand was in and what brand was out. She also noticed that while she used to have her pick of newspaper kiosks now there were only a couple left in the entire town.
On this day she was sitting outside the warehouses again waiting for someone from the cartel to deliver her 1.5 million in coins. She was reading the paper she picked up that day and noticed that the front page news was about the next mayoral election. Apparently the current mayor was so old that now he wasn't even going to attempt to run.
"Finally," Femme Fatale snorted in contempt, "Like we needed some dottering old man running this city into the ground. Let's see who the current candidates are..."
There appeared to be three candidates running for mayor of Townsville. There was Sarah Bellum, the mayor's ex-assistant. There was also Harold Smith, the mob boss that ran the Smith Family weapons ring. The third candidate was Talking Dog Jr.
"Are you kidding?" Femme Fatale scoffed at what she was reading, "There's only one qualified candidate on this list! It has to be Sarah Bellum! Surely Townsville isn't stupid enough to elect a super villain or a dog."
The she read on and saw that the polls were neck in neck with Talking Dog Jr. having a slight lead.
"Seriously!?" Femme Fatale shrieked, "I don't want to live in this town anymore! These stupid-!"
Her tirade was interrupted however when a shiny black Rolls Royce pulled up to the parking lot, and Moose rolled down the window and handed Femme Fatale a large sack of money.
"Make sure you get the job done, or else you'll have to answer to Mr. Big," Moose warned before driving away.
Femme Fatale didn't even have a chance to answer before the car sped off, but at least she had her money. She opened the bag to see her beautiful coins, only to be confronted by a sack full of $100 bills!
"Benjamin Franklin!?" Femme Fatale shouted angrily, "Oh, no you don't!"
Femme Fatale ran to the nearest bus stop in full costume carrying a sack full of money, and several ordinary citizens of Townsville looked at her like she was the weirdest thing they'd seen all year. Coming from Townsville denizens, that was saying something. She took the bus all the way to the gated community, and several passengers stared at the villainess as she scowled and stewed over what she perceived to be a slight. Apparently bell bottom pants and an ankh mask weren't the best fashion choices if one was trying to be inconspicuous.
When she got to her destination the gatekeeper didn't want to let her in at first, but a gun aimed at his face made him reconsider her demand. She stormed over to the mansion and pounded on the door, and the eye slit opened just like before.
"You followed me all the way back here?" Moose's gravelly voice asked, "I didn't know you cared."
"This isn't what we agreed on!" Femme Fatale snapped without preamble.
"Oh? It's 1.5 million dollars. That wasn't our agreement?" Moose asked with mock innocence.
"These are bills!" Femme Fatale shouted accusingly, "I wanted coins! Susan B Anthony and Sacajawea coins!"
"Shh! You're gonna alert the whole neighborhood, you crazy dame," Moose warned her.
"What did you just call me, you toad?" Femme Fatale asked crossly.
"Either take the money or leave it here," Moose insisted, "That's your payment, and if you know what's good for ya you'll hold up your end of the bargain."
Femme Fatale roared in anger and kicked the locked door down! Moose fell backwards but recovered quickly enough to draw his gun. Femme Fatale drew her gun as well and dropped the sack of money, so both of them were aiming at each other.
"This wasn't our deal," Femme Fatale growled, "I won't accept payment with a man's picture on it."
"Too bad, because that's how most money is made," Moose pointed out, "Look, we tried to get your stupid lady coins, but there wasn't enough of 'em. Now, take your money and go get those stinkin' Powerpuffs!"
"Not until you give me what was promised me," Femme Fatale pressed, "I want real money, not a symbol of the patriarchy!"
Moose answered by cocking back his old fashioned revolver, and Femme Fatale answered that silent warning by aiming her laser gun for Moose's head. It was a tension that seemed destined to end in someone's death, but then a huge shadow fell over both of them with thundering footsteps harkening the entry of a new player. Moose looked behind him with far less confidence than he showed a moment ago, and Femme Fatale would have taken the moment to fire, except she had a feeling things were about to get interesting.
"Moose, what's going on here?" A very tall very fat man asked the tiny trench coat wearing flunky.
"A slight c-complication, boss," Moose stammered, "I'm handling it."
Femme Fatale knew the guy's name was Mr. Big, but she hadn't known the half of it. This man must have been at least 8 feet tall, and probably five feet wide. He wore a fancy black suit and a black oversized fedora that obscured everything about his face except his nose and mouth. Fatale couldn't help but think that no amount of black in the world could slim that figure, yet there was something about the way he moved that said he was more powerful than his doughy appearance would indicate. It reminded her of the Kingpin character from the Spider-Man comics. She always hated that character, and she suspected she would hate Mr. Big too.
"What happened?" Mr. Big asked Moose.
"The Girl Scout doesn't want the money," Moose told his boss, "Apparently she don't understand the concept of dollar bills. I'm sure we can find you someone else to off the 'Puffs."
"I'll do the job, but only if I actually get what I was promised," Femme Fatale reiterated, "I said I wanted coins, and you gave me bills. I said I wanted women on my money, and you gave me men. You don't listen!"
"How would you even spend lady coins anyway?" Moose scoffed, "That's not real money."
"That's it!" Femme Fatale shouted as she stuck her gun in Moose's face.
She was going to fire the gun and melt Moose's head off, but Mr. Big redirected her shot to the wall. Femme Fatale was taken off guard by how strong this guy was, and how effortless he made his actions look.
"I got an idea," Mr. Big said, and Femme Fatale braced for the worst, "Why don't we pay you on the computer?"
"Huh?" Femme Fatale grunted in confusion.
"Yeah, we send you electronic money, and you won't have to know if there are ladies on the money or not," Mr. Big replied with a smile, but Femme Fatale couldn't tell if the smile was warm or predatory, "Then you take care of the Powerpuff Girls, and we give you more money. Sound good?"
"I, uh, don't have a PayMe account," Femme Fatale replied sheepishly.
"Moose will help you set it up," Mr. Big replied helpfully, "Change your password afterward though. Don't want anyone stealing your money."
"Um...okay," Femme Fatale conceded, not entirely sure why this was going so smoothly.
Mr. Big turned around in the spacious hallways and went back to his office with Moose and Femme Fatale following him. She understood now why everything in the house seemed so oversized. If this guy wasn't a giant he sure was close. She knew better than to trust his affable demeanor however. That jolly fat man ran one of the most lucrative crime rings in the area, and one of the most secretive. She feared he would have her killed after he was through with her, but she was ready. She was strong enough and clever enough to take on any of Mr. Big's goons, or even Mr. Big himself.
For three days Blossom, Buttercup, and Butch had searched for any clues on Mr. Big and his crime ring. Bubbles gave up after the first day because she couldn't handle any real confrontations. Too many of those hoods and lowlives reminded her of...that day. She decided to stay home and guard the professor. She knew she could fight if the professor's life depended on it, but nothing else would keep her away from her online games and amigurumi.
Even as the flashbacks threatened to return Bubbles did her best to ignore her own masochistic mind. Bubbles fought to forget what was happening and just focus on defeating the virtual robots in her game. She cleared another building and had collected the treasure when the professor hollered up the stairs.
"What?" Bubbles hollered back since she didn't hear him.
"I said telephone for you, Bubbles!" Professor shouted up the stairs.
Bubbles had to leave the room to answer the phone. She still remembered when they had the hotline in their room and the mayor would call the Powerpuff Girls to save the day. It felt like yesterday, yet also like an eternity ago. Now Blossom just carried a hotline smartphone since she was the only one that fought crime anymore anyway. Then again, a smartphone would've worked regardless of whether they were still a team or not. Blossom was always the one that answered the old phone.
Bubbles picked up the cordless landline they still had for some reason, and was surprised by the voice she heard on the other end of the line.
"Bubbles, it's Princess Morebucks."
Princess. She hadn't seen Princess in years. The last time Princess tried to do anything evil was 5 years ago. Bubbles hadn't been there, but she still remembered the aftermath...
"Bribe yourself out of anymore crimes, Princess?" Bubbles asked icily.
"No, Bubbles," Princess replied snidely, "Is Blossom available? I need to speak to a real Powerpuff Girl."
"Wow, how are you still this much of a brat?" Bubbles asked almost playfully, not phased by Princess's taunting.
"Hey, you were the one bringing up old times," Princess pointed out, "I actually called to help your sister with something, but if you want to ruin an opportunity to learn about a super villain-"
"No, no!" Bubbles cut her off quickly, "I'm on my way."
"I said I didn't want you!" Princess shouted rudely, "I want Blossom! You're not a Powerpuff Girl anymore. Just the secretary."
Bubbles slammed the phone back on the charger and groaned in frustration. She tried, she really tried to not hate people. Princess however was just so...punchable. As many baddies as Bubbles had beaten up in her life none were as bratty and punchable as Princess. Still, with the others searching for clues about the Saga Cartel, Bubbles was the only one left to meet with the spoiled CEO. Steeling herself for the stress that would ensue, Bubbles flew out the open window toward Morebuck Mega Corporation Inc.
Moose and Femme Fatale managed to set up an electronic payment system for the villainess, all the while Mr. Big sat at his desk and ate a box of cheap supermarket donuts. The longer Femme Fatale looked at the mob boss the sicker she got. In the time they had been in the same room together he had scratched his butt, picked his nose, scratched his crotch, and then used that same hand to pick up powdered sugar donuts to shovel into his big mouth. Yep, if Femme Fatale didn't think men were disgusting before, she certainly thought so now.
"Alright boss, the Girl Scout has the first half of the money," Moose announced, but then muttered, "Awful expensive pet food if you ask me..."
"What are you talking about?" Femme Fatale asked suspiciously.
"Oh, yeah. Thank you for reminding me, Moose," Mr. Big said as he got up from his black leather chair, "I wanted to show you around my home. I especially want to show you Fluffy."
"Fluffy?" Femme Fatale asked skeptically, "As much as I like cats I really don't have time to stick around for this."
"Fluffy is my python," Mr. Big clarified, "She's really big! I think you'll like her."
Femme Fatale raised an eyebrow at how unabashedly excited Mr. Big sounded to show off his pet snake. He seemed to flip from a slow sinister demeanor to an almost childlike personality in the blink of an eye. That did not bode well in Femme Fatale's mind. Crooks that tried to look innocent usually had the bloodiest skeletons in their closets.
"I don't want to see your snake, Mr. Big," Femme Fatale said disdainfully even as he walked closer to her, "I need to get home, and the last bus of the evening leaves in 20 minutes."
"No!" Mr. Big suddenly shouted as he grabbed her arm.
Femme Fatale hissed in pain, not ready for such a massive iron grip around her wrist and forearm. She glared up at him, feeling vindicated at seeing his true colors.
"You're not taking the bus," Mr. Big stated in a calmer tone than a moment before, "No member of the Saga Cartel rides with the little people. You work for me now, so you're one of us."
"Well then how the crap am I supposed to get home?" Femme Fatale asked sharply.
"Mr. Big will drive you," Mr. Big said smoothly, and Femme Fatale scowled.
"I don't want to ride anywhere with you," Femme Fatale stated firmly, "And I am not your stooge. I am a freelance assassin, and I want to take the bus home. Now let go of my arm, you big ape!"
"Mr. Big won't take no for an answer," Mr. Big replied calmly, not turning loose of Femme Fatale.
Femme Fatale bit her lip and growled in anger. She didn't like being bossed around by some power hungry man, and to have one threatening her at the same time he was pretending to perform a kindness was even worse. He was trying to impress her with his possessions and dominate her with his physical strength. She wanted nothing more than to shoot this condescending tub of lard, but she could still make a lot of money off him, so she ground her teeth and nodded.
"Great!" Mr. Big replied happily, "This is gonna be fun."
Femme Fatale walked with Mr. Big as he led her by the arm, and once or twice during their walk down the hall she 'accidentally' kicked him in the back of his heels. He didn't seem to mind though, which only made the villainess even madder. When they got to the garage, it was packed with luxury cars both old and new, each one kept spotlessly clean.
"Typical," Femme Fatale muttered under her breath, "Men just love their cars."
Mr. Big then went over to a vending machine that had keys inside instead of snacks.
"Pick which car you want us to drive," Mr. Big requested as he motioned to the machine.
"Fine, but only if I get to drive it," Femme Fatale replied contrarily, "Of course you're probably too much of a big strong man to allow a woman to drive one of your precious collectible cars. Am I right?"
"You can drive if you want," Mr. Big replied agreeably, "But Mr. Big has to ride with you so you get home safe."
Femme Fatale narrowed her eyes at Mr. Big, not expecting him to relent so easily. She told him she wanted the silver Lamborghini Conthatch, and he punched in a number on the machine. She snatched the key right out of his hand before he could change his mind, and together they took off for her house.
Just as Mr. Big and Femme Fatale were leaving however, a blue streak of light was headed for their neighborhood to visit a certain CEO that lived next door to the cartel kingpin.
Bubbles flew into an open window that happened to lead to the room where Princess was sitting, and Princess didn't even turn around as she said, "You know you could've used the door, Powerpuff."
"Alright, I showed up, now what's this important information you wanted to talk to me about?" Bubbles demanded.
"I wanted to talk to a real Powerpuff Girl," Princess restated, "But if all I have is you then I'll make the best of it. I've noticed some odd activity going on next door."
"This better not be a trick to get us to beat up your neighbors," Bubbles warned.
"It isn't, not this time," Princess assured her, "There's been this weird chick standing outside the mansion next door yelling about not being paid her money. At first I thought it was a domestic issue, but then I noticed how strangely she was dressed. She looked like some third wave feminist disco dancer, so I looked it up online to see if I could figure out who she was or where she got that awful costume, and then it clicked."
"What clicked?" Bubbles asked.
"She is a super villain, but not a recent one," Princess declared, "Her name was Femme Fatale. You Powerpuff Girls defeated her fifteen years ago. You know, when you guys were still good at your jobs."
Bubbles fumed at Princess's dig, but the CEO continued on with describing her detective work.
"So I looked up Femme Fatale, and she just got out of prison a few days ago. Gotta say she didn't waste any time. I'm almost impressed."
"Is this going somewhere?" Bubbles asked impatiently.
"Uh, yeah, I'm getting to that!" Princess snapped, "Anyway, I still have my old account on townsvillains,edu and decided to see if she had an account. Turns out she does, and she lists her current job as 'assassin'. Femme Fatale has upgraded from robbery to murder. I think my neighbors have taken out a hit on someone, but I don't know who it is yet."
"Well, who lives in that mansion? What do you know about them?" Bubbles inquired.
"Not much," Princess admitted, "I know they throw a lot of parties. It's kinda funny really, because they have that big concrete swimming pool but it's never filled with water. It's usually filled with drunk party goers drinking kegs of beer like it's a mosh pit. Honestly, I hate my new neighbors. I've considered moving most of my stuff to the summer home, but my neighbors there are members of the Smith Family, and I don't feel like getting shot over a drug deal gone wrong."
"That stuff isn't relevant!" Bubbles shouted irritably, "Princess, do you know of any enemies your neighbors have? If Femme Fatale is trying to kill someone then they need protection!"
"No, I don't know!" Princess yelled.
"Well do you at least know their names?" Bubbles asked.
"No, I...uh...I guess I...never introduced myself," Princess sheepishly admitted, "I've just been so busy with work. There are products to approve, invoices to look over, board meetings, executive retreats, and so many more things I can barely keep track of. I don't know how Daddy did it for so long! Even now I'm pushing back a luncheon to talk to you."
"Well thank you for taking the time, I guess," Bubbles replied awkwardly, trying and failing to sound grateful.
"You know Bubbles, I can't help but think back to the first time I met you and your bratty sisters," Princess suddenly said.
"Gee, look at the pot calling the kettle black," Bubbles remarked as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I had never seen anything like you before," Princess continued as if she hadn't heard Bubbles, "You girls were everything I wanted to be, and had everything I wanted to have. Most little girls dream about being Disney princesses or pop stars or something. Do you know who I always wanted to be like? Batman. My favorite superhero was Batman, because he didn't have powers or parents or anything to help him except his resources, yet he managed to be the smartest most capable superhero ever. I always wanted to be super, just like Batman," Princess then scoffed at herself and said, "I look at my life now though, and I'm no Batman. I'm Lex Luthor. I'm Daddy. This isn't what I wanted. To be fair though, I guess all little kids are stupid..."
Bubbles just sat there in silence and listened to Princess lament. She didn't really know what to say. They were fighting a moment ago, so it was odd to Bubbles that Princess would suddenly confide in her. She didn't know how to comfort someone that annoyed her so much for so many years. Bubbles looked at Princess, really looked at her, for the first time in years. What she saw was not the bratty bully that tormented her school years. She saw a stressed out woman that barely had time for anything anymore.
"I don't think you're Lex Luthor," Bubbles finally said.
"No?" Princess asked sullenly.
"No, I think you're Ms. Bellum," Bubbles said with a cheeky smile.
"Who? The lady running for mayor?" Princess asked uncomprehendingly.
"Yeah. Before she became a politician she was the mayor's assistant," Bubbles explained, "She worked harder than anyone else I'd ever met. She was always tired and overworked, yet she still always gave her best. Trust me, it's a compliment to be compared to Ms. Bellum."
"Thank you, Bubbles," Princess replied in bemusement, "That, uh, means a lot to me. I'll keep you posted if I learn anything more about Femme Fatale and the neighbors."
"Okay, thanks," Bubbles replied as she floated toward the window to leave.
Princess didn't even watch Bubbles exit since she had a golf game with the CEO of Goody Goody Gumdrop Corp. Bubbles didn't exactly like Princess, but she was glad for once to have another set of eyes and ears on the case. With the girls pooling their resources searching for Mr. Big, learning more about Femme Fatale would stretch their resources too thin.
"Then again, maybe we could assign Butch to the case," Bubbles mused, "At least then he'll stop torturing potential witnesses. Tee hee hee!"
Femme Fatale drove as fast as she could without being conspicuous. She was calculating in her head where she would take the car. There was no way she could drive all the way to her penthouse in this thing. Then Mr. Big would know where she lived, and given his unpredictable nature she would prefer to keep her residence a secret for the moment.
The drive had been mostly quiet, with Mr. Big just looking at the scenery the whole way there. Femme Fatale was grateful she didn't have to talk to him, but she knew he was up to something. She just had to figure out what. She knew he needed an assassin, but she also got the feeling he had another plan besides that. She wouldn't let her guard down around him though. Whatever he had planned, she would be ready. Just as she was convincing herself she was ready for anything however, Mr. Big surprised her again...by taking a stuffed purple octopus out of his coat pocket and playing with it.
"Aren't you too old for stuffed animals?" Femme Fatale remarked critically.
"It's Bubbles' toy," Mr. Big explained, "Mr. Big took it from the Powerpuff house."
"You broke into their house, and only stole a stuffed animal?" Femme Fatale asked flatly.
"No, we also stole the fridge and the couch," Mr. Big replied, unperturbed, "Mr. Big wanted this especially though. Bubbles loves this toy. Mr. Big is gonna send it back one tentacle at a time."
"You're destroying a stuffed animal to psychologically torment a Powerpuff Girl," Femme Fatale repeated disdainfully, "You do realize the girls are adults now? I may be out of the loop but even I know a grown woman isn't going to care if you rip up her stuffed animal. She can just fix it."
"It sends a message," Mr. Big replied, a dark edge to his formerly genial voice, "Mr. Big wants the Powerpuff Girls dead, but not right away. First we attack their favorite items, then we go after their friends, and then finally we take their daddy. The girls will beg for death by the time you get to them. It's already started."
"It's almost a shame to kill them," Femme Fatale said wistfully, "There aren't enough competent women out there challenging the system that has kept us down for so long. It's just a shame their career is in opposition to mine, otherwise I'd let them go. Mr. Big, up until now I assumed you just wanted the girls gone so you could take over Townsville, but nobody acts like this unless they have a vendetta against someone. Tell me, why do the girls mean so much to you?"
"Mr. Big can't sleep."
"Um, I don't follow," Femme Fatale replied.
"You don't have to follow. You're driving," Mr. Big said with a grin.
Femme Fatale didn't understand the metaphor the oversized gangster was going for. Did he mean she was the assassin and she shouldn't ask questions? Was it a threat? A warning? A compliment? Femme Fatale had trouble reading this guy's emotions when he spoke in that slow halting voice, and it was almost spooky how calm he stayed no matter what he was talking about.
She decided to go to a parking garage that was three blocks from her penthouse. Femme Fatale pulled into a parking space and got out of the car, allowing Mr. Big to get out and get in the driver's seat. She thought he was looking at her, but with that fedora covering his eyes she couldn't tell.
"Mr. Big had a great time," The titular gangster said contentedly, "Do you like this car?"
"Ugh, here we go! Trying to impress me with a set of wheels," Femme Fatale ranted, "Like I've never seen this before. It's practically page one in the rich pervert's handbook. Listen Big, I'll do my job, and I'll do it as well as any man ever could, but I will not use my body to get ahead in your little organization. Do you understand me?"
"No," Mr. Big replied.
"No?" Femme Fatale repeated incredulously, "Well then understand this, no shiny car is going to make me like you!"
"So you do like the car?" Mr. Big asked for clarification.
"Oh my god, what do you want from me, you chauvinistic pig!?" Femme Fatale screamed.
"To give you the car," Mr. Big replied in a much more stoic tone than Femme Fatale.
"You want to give me the car?" Femme Fatale asked in disbelief, and Mr. Big nodded, "Why?"
"Like I said, no member of the Saga Cartel takes the bus," Mr. Big replied with another one of those wide unreadable smiles.
Mr. Big then took her hand and placed the keys in her palm. He then walked off, and only then did Femme Fatale realize they had been followed in a red Mazzarati by Moose. Mr. Big got in Moose's car and they drove away, leaving Femme Fatale with a new Lambourghini and a lot of questions.