Author's Notes: Hi guys, and welcome to a new chapter of the fic! This story has been an odd one to write, as on the one hand the tone is one of intrigue and is mostly played straight, yet there's enough over-the-top mob cliches to keep the cartoony nature intact. So, I hope these two sides of the story blend okay. thank you for reading, and if you'd like to please review :)
Chapter 4
The Smiths
Femme Fatale knew if she was going to defeat the Powerpuff Girls once and for all then she was going to need weapons. Powerful weapons. Weapons that would make the likes of Mojo Jojo green with envy. With this in mind, Femme Fatale flipped through her Rolodex to see if there were any contacts that could aid her in her mission.
"Hm, let's see...Sedusa?" Femme Fatale read off, "No, she's with that pig Major Man. Hm...Maskara? No, she isn't really the total destruction type. More of a joke, really. Ah, here's someone that was paroled ten years ago. I bet she has some great connections now."
Femme Fatale then dialed the number, and was met with a lengthy hold menu.
Welcome to the Smith Family hotline. For legitimate business transactions with Smith Applied Chemicals press 1. For legitimate business transactions with the Smith Foundation for Family Welfare press 2. For the complaints department please hang up now. For sales press 3. For illegal activity press 4.
"Finally!" Femme Fatale growled as she pressed 4.
You have pressed 4. For drug trafficking press 1. For gun running press 2.
Femme Fatale pressed 2.
Hold please while we connect you to a representative. Please enjoy this soothing music while you wait.
Femme Fatale then had to endure 10 minutes of an easy listening version of The Macarena while she waited for someone to answer her call. This was a lot more annoying than she had originally thought, but hopefully she would finally be able to get in touch with-
"Hello, and thank you for calling the Smith Family weapons cache office," A perky sales rep on the other line said, "Are you looking to buy, sell, or trade?"
"Ugh! I'm trying to get in touch with Mary Ann Smith," Femme Fatale snapped irritably, "Do you have a number I could call to get in touch with her? I'm an old friend from prison."
"Well, I'll see what I can do," The rep replied uncertainly, "Do you have a name I can give her?"
"Yes, Femme Fatale," The titular villainess replied, "If she doesn't recognize that name, then...say Greta Blimpkin. Also, if I don't get in touch with her by phone, there will be repercussions in person," After that dark threat Femme Fatale jovially added, "Oh, and tell her I tried her lemon squares recipe and it was fantastic!"
"Will do," The rep replied, "Have a villainous day."
The rep then hung up, and Femme Fatale felt like she had wasted far too much time on that stupid phone. She just hoped it would be worth it. She just had to make sure to not mention her employer was Mr. Big, since the Saga Cartel and the Smith Family were bitter rivals. If Mary Ann found out Femme Fatale was working with that overfed ogre then she would probably be offed by one of the Smith's goons. Of course of Mr. Big found out the weapons came from the Smiths, then he would probably fly off into a rage and strangle her. This felt like a no win situation, yet Femme Fatale believed herself smarter than both parties and able to play them both to her advantage.
"I don't know about this, Buttercup," Bubbles said nervously.
"Trust me, Bubbles. You need this," Buttercup replied assuringly, "Butch and I come here all the time, and it's a great way to relieve stress. And if anyone was ever stressed! Ha!"
Bubbles didn't know why she was so nervous. An ice cream parlor wasn't that scary a place, but for some reason investigating the Saga Cartel made Bubbles more nervous than usual. She feared leaving the professor alone, and she worried they were being watched. She had just wanted to stay inside and make another baby turtle out of yarn, but Buttercup and Butch had insisted she come with them to their favorite restaurant in Townsville, Gloopy's Globs of Ice Cream.
"We're hoping to win enough prize money from next week's monster match to rent the back room of Gloopy's for a couple hours," Butch told Bubbles.
"You can do that?" Bubbles asked in surprise.
"The back room is where people can play an ice cream version of paint ball," Butch explained, "It's totally awesome!"
"Yeah! One time we went in with Brick and Boomer on the room, and they brought their girlfriends with them," Buttercup recounted, "We were all Bam! Pow! Sploosh! Zap!"
"The zap part is where all the ice cream melted because of stupid Brick's laser vision," Butch smirked, "Nothin' like pushing losers into a pool of melted ice cream. Hah!"
"That sounds like a terrible idea," Bubbles cringed, "I mean, a bunch of sticky ice cream all over my beautiful golden hair? No thanks!"
"Is it just a blonde thing?" Butch asked Buttercup, "You know Boomer cried after I pushed him. He's such a baby."
"You really should be nicer to your brother," Buttercup admonished him, "I mean, what if you need a kidney or something someday?"
"Do we even have kidneys?" Butch asked in confusion.
Before Buttercup could answer the door to the ice cream shop opened again, and while the green couple ignored it Bubbles took notice of the person that came through the door. It wasn't anyone Bubbles knew, just a nondescript citizen of Townsville. What Bubbles couldn't take her eyes off however was the sunglasses the man was wearing. They were pointed at the edges and pitch black...just like Ace's used to be.
While Buttercup and Butch continued to debate whether or not they had organs Bubbles was far away from the restaurant and them. Her mind was flying over the water of Townsville's coast as a hijacked bus careened off the edge of a cliff. She was swimming in the cold dark water searching for survivors. She was on her couch as the news came on and showed Ace's bloated blue body laid out on the beach. Her eyes stared straight ahead, and her mind tortured her once again.
"Bubbles? Hey Bubbles!" Buttercup called out for probably the fourth time, "Hey! Are you okay? Snap out of it!"
"What's wrong with her?" Butch asked derisively.
"I told you, she does this sometimes," Buttercup replied, "She'll snap out of it in a minute. I just hope she doesn't scream this time."
Bubbles then jolted as if awakening from a dream, and Buttercup went over to Bubbles' side of the booth and patted her back comfortingly.
"It's okay Bubbles," Buttercup said soothingly, "You're at Gloopy's, everything's fine, nobody's in danger. You're safe."
"Buttercup, I really want to go home now," Bubbles said in a soft miserable voice.
"What? But we haven't even ordered yet!" Butch whined.
"Shut up, Butch!" Buttercup snapped at her boyfriend, and then to Bubbles said, "You can fly home if you want to. Butch and I will stay here. Is that okay, or do you need me to fly you home?"
"No, I'm okay," Bubbles replied halfheartedly.
Bubbles then excused herself and left. Buttercup worried about her sister making it home alright, but at the same time she'd promised Butch they could have a fun time together while they were in Townsville. Bubbles said she was okay, so Buttercup decided to take her word for it.
As Bubbles flew into the clouds she tried to let the wind take her pain away. The problem was the wind felt the same as it did the day she failed her fateful mission. She wanted to live in the present moment, but her mind kept going back to when that bus fell in the water and when the Gangreen Gang drowned. How could she stop the Saga Cartel from hurting any more people when she couldn't even stop a bunch of small time hoods from joyriding a bus without collateral damage?
As Bubbles flew into the window of her house she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. She sat on the cold tile floor and just breathed in and out. For some reason cold things made her feel better, and after this episode she would probably look through some adorable baby animal videos to cheer herself up. She knew she would feel better soon enough, but she just needed some time alone.
Femme Fatale had waited two days for Mary Ann Smith to call her back with no results, so she decided she was sick of playing by the rules. She drove to Smith Applied Chemicals where she knew Mary Ann usually worked on weekdays. She was going to meet with that mob queen face to face and make Mary Ann sell her some Powerpuff pulverizing weapons.
As Femme Fatale stormed past the receptionist everyone looked at the villainess with the outdated wardrobe and large gun in her hand with confusion. It wasn't uncommon to see villains enter a Smith operation, but they normally weren't so blatant about it. It didn't take long for security to notice Femme Fatale and apprehend her.
"Let me go, you disgusting animals!" Femme Fatale roared at the guards who were holding her by either arm, "Do you know who I am?!"
"Lemme guess, Pamela Anderson?" One of the guards joked.
"Grr," Femme Fatale could do little more than growl as her gun was taken from her and the guards pushed her toward the exit.
Just as the guards and Femme Fatale were almost to the door, a well dressed woman with tan skin, a black business suit, and short greying blonde hair entered the building. She was looking down at her smartphone and her heels echoed on the tile floors in the cavernous lobby. When she got to the chaos that was Femme Fatale and the guards however, she stopped.
"Greta?" Mary Ann Smith asked in recognition, "My goodness, this is unexpected. I didn't know you were up for release. Johnson, Meyers, please release my guest."
The guards did as instructed and Femme Fatale wiped aggressively at her costume where they had touched it, as if their manly germs would infect her.
"I'm going to my office to file some paperwork. Join me," Mary Ann ordered in a voice that left no room for argument.
One long and awkward elevator ride later Femme Fatale and Mary Ann Smith were in a grand office on the top floor of the skyscraper. Even the clouds seemed to be below the office, and Femme Fatale couldn't help but be impressed. Mary Ann of course treated this as just another meeting and barely even looked at her fellow villainess as she sat at her desk and flipped through some papers.
"Harold is out on the campaign trail," Mary Ann said offhandedly as Femme Fatale fidgeted in her seat across the desk, "This mayoral race has been loads of fun, and I must say seeing Harold vie for a position of leadership has done wonders for our marriage. So, how's life on the outside treating you so far, Greta?"
"I go by the name Femme Fatale," She corrected.
"Still?" Mary Ann asked in mock surprise, "You poor dear woman. I understand. Prison can lead to arrested development. I see it happen all the time to my employees. They return to duty and haven't changed at all. Of course that usually leads to them getting caught again. I mean just look at you, dear. A few more wrinkles but otherwise unchanged. You really should cut your hair. I think a pixie cut would look wonderful on you."
"I don't care about my looks," Femme Fatale stated, "Beauty culture is just another way that the patriarchy insists we conform to their standards of what a woman should be. Putting ourselves on display and submitting ourselves to what they want to look at."
"Greta, beauty isn't a set of shackles, it's a whip," Mary Ann replied deviously, "And what really matters is who's holding that whip. Beauty is the most accessible form of power we women have, and there's nothing wrong with capitalizing on it."
"I used to feel the same way," Femme Fatale admitted, "But when you're beautiful it just tells men that you're available."
"It also tells other women you're a threat," Mary Ann grinned, "Honey, take it from someone older and wiser: you don't get to be beautiful forever. Use it while you have it."
"For what? Catching a man like you did?" Femme Fatale replied contemptuously.
"If you want," Mary Ann replied indifferently, "Harold is a better catch than you'd think. He's malleable enough to listen to me, unassuming enough to fit into every part of society, and ambitious enough to push this family forward into the fortune that we currently enjoy today. Sure, I'm the real brains of our empire, but I couldn't do it without Harold. We're a team. Why wouldn't you want someone by your side that shares your goals and makes you stronger?"
"Stronger? Men make us weaker!" Femme Fatale countered, "For thousands of years men have told us how we are supposed to look, what we are supposed to feel, how we are supposed to express those feelings, and kept us enslaved to their pleasure and making babies! We don't need them!"
"Hahahaha," Mary Ann laughed, which only made Femme Fatale fume even more, "We don't need them? Oh, Greta! The human race would die without them, just as it would die without us. I agree that once a woman obtains power she should never let it go, but to eschew a family for the sake of a bitter grudge against half the population just seems self-destructive. Besides, I for one wouldn't trade the world for my children. Bud and Julie are both strong willed, intelligent, evil little angels. I suppose you just can't understand until you've had children of your own."
Femme Fatale was starting to remember why she hated being cellmates with Mary Ann Smith. Mary Ann was a smug and condescending woman even back then, and she insisted that only ugly women didn't get married and start families. Femme Fatale hated people that insisted family and domesticity was the answer to everything, and it was made even worse coming from the mouth of another woman.
"Now Greta, what was it you wanted exactly?" Mary Ann asked, finally ready to get down to business.
"Ah, yes. I want to procure-" But before Femme Fatale could finish her sentence there was a knock on the door.
"Who is it?" Mary Ann asked sweetly, ignoring Femme Fatale's annoyed glare.
"It's me, Mary Ann," A nasally male voice replied, "Can I come in?"
"Of course, Harold. I'm not doing anything," Mary Ann replied with a nonchalance that made Femme Fatale's blood boil.
An aging bald man with squared glasses and a big nose shambled into the room. He was wearing a brown business suit that seemed wrinkled with prolonged wear, and he was nervously scrunching up a hat in his hands.
"How's the campaign trail, dear?" Mary Ann asked her husband.
"Oh, um, it's fine Mary Ann," Harold stammered, "Um, I was just speaking with our associate Rex Hancock, and he, um, mentioned, uh...well..."
"Spit it out, Harold!" Mary Ann suddenly screamed at him.
"Yah! HeSaidTheSagaCartelStoleAnotherShipment!" Harold quickly replied.
"Could you repeat that, sweetheart?" Mary Ann replied with forced calm.
"Well, he said our shipment of...um, am I free to speak with this woman in the room?" Harold suddenly asked.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Femme Fatale asked crossly.
"It's fine, Harold. She's an old friend," Mary Ann dismissed his concerns, "Now, shipment of what?"
"Cocaine," Harold said timidly, "The Saga Cartel found out about our latest boat load of cocaine, and they stole it."
"Covertly or upfront?" Mary Ann asked.
"One of their members pretended to be me and signed for the shipment, and then drove away with it in several trucks," Harold explained, "We don't know exactly what the trucks look like, but according to the security footage the man in charge of the operation was the one they call 'Moose'."
Femme Fatale covered her mouth so the couple wouldn't see her smirk. As much as she disliked Moose and the Saga Cartel, she had to admit to herself that it was satisfying seeing someone get the best of the Smiths.
"Ah yes, Moose," Mary Ann commented wryly, "I've seen him around. We tried bribing him to join our side, but he felt Mr. Big gives him more freedom to be...creative, in his work. His words. Any word on locating Mr. Big?"
"Nothing," Harold replied, "If I didn't know any better, I would say Mr. Big doesn't even exist. He's never at their crime scenes, and every goon we've captured has been too afraid to talk. The closest to a physical description we have is that he's big and ugly, which frankly even I could have guessed."
As the Smiths talked about the situation, Femme Fatale got an idea. She knew how she could get all the money she'd ever need to start her own criminal empire, get rid of the Powerpuff Girls, and get rid of both major crime families in Townsville. She just had to stay two steps ahead of her competition.
"You want Mr. Big, huh?" Femme Fatale suddenly said, interrupting their conversation, "What if I told you I knew where he lived and what he looks like?"
"I would say you're lying," Mary Ann replied with that patronizing smile she was so good at, "You've only been out of prison for a few weeks at best. Do you know how long it takes to get in good with the Saga Cartel? One of our boys tried it, and by the time he made it up in the ranks to meet Moose they figured out he was a double agent and killed him."
"I know where he is," Femme Fatale replied firmly, "And I'll help you take him down for good, if you help me in return."
"Really?" Mary Ann asked, unconvinced.
"Really," Femme Fatale smiled wickedly, "You know how I feel about male dominated syndicates. At least you and Harold share equal power. We girls gotta stick together, right?"
"Very well then, tell us where he is," Mary Ann ordered.
"Not so fast," Femme Fatale held up a hand, "I know my information is valuable, and I'm not about to give it away for free."
"What do you want?" Mary Ann asked, finally dropping the sweet act and scowling at Femme Fatale.
"A million dollars electronically transferred to my PayMe account, and the most powerful weapons you've got," Femme Fatale replied, "I plan to take out the Powerpuff Girls, and I need something that even those brats can't stand up against."
"Is that all?" Mary Ann asked lightheartedly, "Why, I'd pay that just for taking out one of the Powerpuff Girls! To get rid of them and Mr. Big, why that price is a steal."
"Then you'll understand that I want the weapons first," Femme Fatale negotiated, "I want to make sure you actually give me your best, and the only way to know that is to test them out. If the weapons work, then you give me the money in exchange for everything I know about Mr. Big and his cartel."
"That sounds fair," Mary Ann nodded, "Of course if you double cross me I'll kill you."
"Of course. Standard villain contract," Femme Fatale replied dismissively.
Mary Ann then pulled out a paper for Femme Fatale to sign, and ordered Harold to prepare their finest laser weapons and plasma cannons for their new informant. This was working out even better than Femme Fatale had hoped. She would bleed the Smiths dry of their best weapons, defeat the Powerpuff Girls, get the Smiths to kill the Saga Cartel, and then use the weapons to destroy the Smiths. With all the money and power at her command, Femme Fatale was going to be the most powerful villain Townsville had ever seen!