Chapter 9

Fatal Attraction

Bubbles and Ms. Bellum sat around the former mayor's hospital bed while the old man slept. His injuries were treatable, and the doctors believed he would recover. At least there was some good news to come out of the chaos. Bubbles rubbed the bandage on her elbow and looked down at the sleeping form; a forlorn expression on her face.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come back for you, Bubbles," Ms. Bellum apologized.

"That's okay, Ms. Bellum," Bubbles replied distantly, "I'm used to getting knocked around. I was fighting psychos like Femme Fatale when I was only a few days old. I'm just glad Blossom and Buttercup managed to capture her. I guess I should have listened to Princess. Then none of this would have happened."

"Princess?" Ms. Bellum asked.

"You know, the girl who used to impersonate us," Bubbles explained.

"Oh, right. Her," Ms. Bellum said knowingly, "You girls lead crazy lives sometimes. I don't know what Townsville would have done without you."

Bubbles tried to smile, but it was just too hard. She sighed instead and looked down at the floor. Hospitals always looked clean, but Bubbles could tell with her super vision that the floor was covered in germs and grime of all kinds. She wondered if that's how she looked, where everyone else saw a squeaky clean Powerpuff Girl but her sisters and their super vision could see the truth about her.

"The mayor probably won't be awake for a few hours," Ms. Bellum pointed out, "If you want to get something to eat from the cafeteria you can."

"No, that's okay. I'm fine," Bubbles replied, this time managing to fake a smile, "I don't really have anywhere else to go. The house is too quiet, and I can't go see the professor. If I do, then the mob might track him down."

"The mob?" Ms. Bellum asked in shock, "Is the professor in trouble?"

"It's not just him. It's all of us," Bubbles explained, "There's this gang called The Saga Cartel led by a guy named Mr. Big. They broke into our house, stole our stuff, threatened us, and even sent back pieces of Octi through the window!"

"That's awful!" Ms. Bellum gasped, "Wait, Octi? What is that?"

"My stuffed animal from when I was a kid," Bubbles explained, "I stopped playing with him in second grade, but for some reason Mr. Big knew about it. Blossom and Buttercup are trying to find him, and I've tried to help too, but I feel like dead weight. Blossom is a smart detective type, and Buttercup is the strongest person I know. I don't offer anything to this investigation."

"Don't sell yourself short, Bubbles," Ms. Bellum countered, "It's true that your sisters have great talents, but that doesn't mean you have nothing to offer. Blossom is highly intelligent, and Buttercup is a determined fighter, but you have something neither of them have."

"Crippling anxiety?" Bubbles replied sarcastically.

"No," Ms. Bellum chuckled softly, "You have the ability to draw people to you. I've seen this for many years. You listen when people speak, you learn new languages to expand your group of friends, and everyone who meets you wants to know you better. You give people the benefit of the doubt, and have a sense of empathy that lets you know how people think."

"You really think so?" Bubbles asked hopefully.

"Of course I do," Ms. Bellum replied as she patted Bubbles' back comfortingly, "It takes more than power to make someone great. Just because your abilities aren't as obvious as your sisters doesn't mean you don't have value."

"Yeah, but how is that supposed to help me find Mr. Big?" Bubbles asked helplessly, "Being nice doesn't solve crimes or get dirtbags off the street."

"Empathy is more than just being nice," Ms. Bellum told her, "Think about everything you know about your opponent, and then try to find patterns that can help you. Try to get into his mind, metaphorically speaking. That's how I have to tackle a debate, especially when one of the other candidates is a silver-tongued criminal like Harold Smith."

"Hm…What do I know about Mr. Big? I know he hires strong people, because they took some heavy furniture," Bubbles pondered, "Um…I know Mr. Big is mean, because he took my Octi and tore him up. He would also have to know about our time being a superhero team, otherwise he wouldn't know I had a favorite stuffed animal. He likes to write notes…I don't think this is helping."

"Keep going," Ms. Bellum encouraged, "What else can you deduce?"

"Okay, deduce…" Bubbles took a deep breath and tried to think, "He wants to torment us because he leaves notes and takes our stuff. His crime organization is segmented specifically so most of his cronies don't know who he is, so Mr. Big values secrecy. He wants everything to be secret because he's a bad guy. A lot of super villains want to be noticed however, because they have big egos. So, we're looking for a sadistic yet pragmatic villain…hm…"

While Bubbles was trying to think, her smartphone rang. She looked at the number, and was surprised to see it was Dr. Needo's office.

"Hello?" Bubbles answered.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Dr. Needo exclaimed in relief, "I've been trying to contact you using your primary number, but I couldn't get an answer."

"That's the professor's landline," Bubbles explained, "I haven't been home for a while. What's up?"

"Oh Bubbles, I don't know how to tell you this without sounding like the most neglectful doctor in the world," Dr. Needo wailed, "One of my clients stole your patient files while I was…um…in the toilet."

Bubbles giggled at the toilet part, but then realized this could actually be a problem. She knew it could be a PPG fan that just didn't have a sense of personal space, but she suspected…

"Was it Mr. Big?" Bubbles asked.

"Legally I'm not allowed to say," Dr. Needo replied, "However, I would call him a rather large fellow, if you understand my meaning."

"I understand, thank you," Bubbles replied pensively, "Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye, Bubbles."

Bubbles hung up, and her face started to feel hot. She wanted to cry, but not in front of Ms. Bellum. She clenched her fists to the point where her smartphone broke into pieces and scattered all over the floor. Unable to take it anymore, the tears started to flow.

"Bubbles!" Ms. Bellum rushed to hug the poor girl, "Bubbles, are you alright?"

"Mr. Big stole my files from my therapist!" Bubbles screamed as she cried into Ms. Bellum's shoulder, "How did he know!? Why is he stalking me? How are we supposed to find someone who might as well not even exist!?"

Ms. Bellum didn't reply, but just kept hugging Bubble and patting her back. She waited for the Powerpuff Girl to get everything out of her system, and when Bubbles was spent Ms. Bellum went back to sit in her chair. Bubbles wiped away the tears with her sleeve, and then grabbed a tissue to blow her nose. Everything was happening too fast, and Bubbles wasn't even in the comfort of her own home to deal with it.

It was one thing for the mob to go after the girls as superheroes, but this guy was taking things too far. Stealing their stuff, including her childhood toy, throwing bricks through their home, swiping her therapy session files-

"…It's me…" Bubbles suddenly realized.

"What's you?" Ms. Bellum asked in concern.

"That's what Mr. Big is after," Bubbles replied, "Octi, the furniture, my psyche profile. All of it. Mr. Big isn't just after the Powerpuff Girls as a concept. He's after me. Why? What did I ever do to him?"

"That might be a good question, actually," Ms. Bellum pondered, "Criminals don't always think like a normal person. If he's petty enough, then maybe he's after you over something small. Since he went after your childhood toy, maybe this has to do with something that happened when you were still working with the Powerpuff Girls. Can you think of anything that happened between you and a villain? Even a civilian encounter might be useful."

"Hm…no, I can't think of anything," Bubbles sighed in defeat, "Most of the stuff I did I did with my sisters. I rarely went off on my own, and when I did I didn't do anything too serious. Then again, sometimes we had to split up to fight crime. Technically we were working together, but I was by myself. I don't remember taking on a drug mob though. As far as Octi is concerned, Him once pretended to be Octi, but that doesn't have anything to do with cartels and gangsters. I can't think of anything, Ms. Bellum."

"This could still be the start of figuring out more about this creep, though," Ms. Bellum said encouragingly, "We know he's in the mob, we know he has a personal grudge, and we know he likes his privacy."

"I knew most of that already though," Bubbles sulked, "We need someone else who can give us some information. Who else would know about-"

Before Bubbles could finish her sentence, the former mayor stirred in his bed and barely opened his eyes. Both women were happy to see that he was conscious again, and hopefully this meant he would soon recover.

"Uh…Ms. Bellum, is that you?" He asked.

"Yes, Mayor. You had an accident," Ms. Bellum told him.

"Uh oh, then I better change my pants before the ribbon cutting ceremony," He replied sheepishly.

"Hee hee hee, not that kind of accident!" Bubbles giggled, "You fell down."

"Oh, I did? Silly me…" He replied nonchalantly, "Um, Ms. Bellum? I lost my bid for another term, didn't I?"

"Excuse me?" Ms. Bellum asked.

"I lost. I'm not the mayor right now," He replied lucidly, "I hope whoever replaces me keeps the office tidy. I still remember that one guy that turned it into a literal pig sty. What was his name again, Ms. Bellum?"

"Fuzzy Lumpkins," Ms. Bellum replied drolly.

"Oh, right. Fuzzy Lumpkins," The former mayor nodded, "That guy was so annoying. I hope he doesn't run for mayor again."

"Don't worry, he isn't," Ms. Bellum replied patiently, "You should get some rest, Mortimer. The nurse will probably come back soon to take your blood pressure."

"Oh, I hate that conflabbit thing!" The former mayor grumbled, "It makes me feel like there's a snake on my arm. Uh, could I get a glass of water, Ms. Bellum?"

"Right away, Mortimer," Ms. Bellum agreed.

Ms. Bellum went to get his glass of water, and Bubbles followed her out to the hallway.

"His real name is Mortimer?" Bubbles asked in disbelief.

"You didn't know?" Ms. Bellum asked.

"No, I've just always heard him called Mayor," Bubbles chuckled.

"That never crossed my mind, that you wouldn't know his name," Ms. Bellum smiled, "I guess when you get to be my age you just take certain things for granted. Listen, I can handle things here. You really should go get something to eat. You need to take care of yourself."

"Well…I guess," Bubbles relented, "You will call me if something happens, right?"

"I can't," Ms. Bellum said wryly, "You broke your phone."

Bubbles looked back at the room where she left the remains of her smartphone, and blushed guiltily.

"Um…maybe I should clean up before leaving…"

Femme Fatale was invited to Mr. Big's mansion again. It was only the day before that she saved his life, but she doubted he forgot about her involvement with the hit in the first place. She was also reluctant to go back given her lack of progress on dealing with the Powerpuff Girls, but she needed to keep that big ape happy so she could get paid the rest of her money.

When she knocked on the door the goon that answered was yet another man she'd never seen before. This one was tall, lanky, and had shaggy blonde hair. Since he wore a dark blue tailored suit, his scruffiness seemed even more out of place. Of course, given that Mr. Big was known to associate with party animals…

"Where's Mr. Big?" Femme Fatale asked curtly, "He's expecting me."

"Oh yeah?" The man asked, his voice sounding like a stereotypical surfer dude, "Well then by all means, my fair heartbreaker. You must be Femme Fatale."

"I am," Femme Fatale replied, barely containing her impatience, "Do you know what Mr. Big wants?"

"No one knows 'till he tells us," The man said vaguely, "You must be really important if he wants to meet with you in person. Well, either that or he needs to feed his snake again. I think the longest a rat ever stayed alive in that container with his snake was 3 days. Poor sap begged until he was hoarse."

Femme Fatale only then realized the rat in the story was not literal. All this gangster talk was starting to give her a headache. She would be glad to be finished with this Powerpuff Girls job so she could get away from The Sopranos over here and back to her life. Then again, given how deep she was in with the Saga Cartel and The Smith Family, who knew if returning to her life was even possible anymore.

Femme Fatale was led to a room that was sparsely furnished, with only two black cushioned benches facing each other and an arch shaped window that let in the gray light from the cloudy day. The floor was black tile, which made too much noise when Femme Fatale and her escort walked in. This seemed like a bad sign. This room felt cold and lifeless, and could be cleaned up easily in case of blood stains. What was Mr. Big planning?

"Hey, Boss," The man greeted the large gangster when he approached the room.

Femme Fatale turned around quickly, surprised that Mr. Big could sneak up on them like that. Normally every step he made announced his presence. Then Femme Fatale realized…the walls were soft. Sound proofing. Oh no…

"Thank you for letting my guest in, Lucky," Mr. Big said graciously, "We won't be long. Order some pizzas for the boys."

"Sure thing, Boss," Lucky replied eagerly, "You won't be disturbed."

"Good," Mr. Big nodded.

With that Mr. Big closed the door, and Femme Fatale backed up to the other side of the room. She felt claustrophobic having that man so close to her in a room this small and sepulcral. She just knew this was about her part in the hit. Guys like Big didn't leave loose ends. Oh why did she take this stupid job?

"Moose is dead," Mr. Big announced without preamble, "I had him whacked yesterday."

"Oh?" Femme Fatale's mind was racing. Why was he telling her this? Was he grateful she told him, or angry she almost killed him?

"Mr. Big has been thinking about how things work around here," Mr. Big said neutrally, "Mr. Big has been thinking about you, too."

"I said I would get you those Powerpuff Girls, and I still will," Femme Fatale said almost challengingly, not allowing her fear to make her sound weak, "I just need more time."

"Tell me something," Mr. Big said without acknowledging her last statement, "What do you want?"

"What?" Femme Fatale asked; caught off guard.

"What do you want?" Mr. Big repeated, "You make a lot of money here, but what good is it? You told Mr. Big yesterday that you wanted power. So, what does that mean to you?"

"Money is power," Femme Fatale growled resolutely.

"Yeah?" Mr. Big asked intently, "And what do you do with the power when you have it?"

"You really wanna know?" Femme Fatale asked roughly, taking a step closer to him to assert herself, "Fine. I know what's really going on, so I might as well use these final moments to be honest. I want to start my own criminal empire. If I had succeeded, I would've been bigger than you and The Smiths combined. You wouldn't have been able to handle the competition, if you even lived to see it. If it weren't for that stupid Moose I would have been able to get everything I wanted."

"Moose is dead," Mr. Big reminded her.

"I know that!" Femme Fatale snapped, "But his stupid plan is why I'm here!"

"Yes, it is," Mr. Big confirmed, "So, for you a gang is power?"

"It's more than that," Femme Fatale declared, "Flunkies are just one part of it. There are contacts, heists, crooked cops, and more. I know what it takes to rule Townsville."

"I know you do," Mr. Big replied almost fondly, "So…you want the Saga Cartel?"

At first Femme Fatale didn't know if she heard that right. Even once she processed the words, she still didn't know if she understood them. Mr. Big had a strangely slow droning way of speaking that could make it hard to read his intentions. Was he challenging her for the cartel? Taunting her with what she could never hope to achieve? Accusing her of trying to take his place? Offering the mob family to her? What was this guy's angle?

"Do I want…your cartel?" Femme Fatale asked carefully.

"Yeah," Mr. Big said blandly, "You're smart, and you're strong. Mr. Big thinks you can handle real power. Mr. Big can give you that power. The money, the mob, everything. Mr. Big just wants one thing back."

"The Powerpuff Girls?" Femme Fatale asked wryly.

"No. That's just your job," Mr. Big dismissed, "Power is more than just a job. It's a way of life."

"So let me get this straight," Femme Fatale said sternly, "You're offering to give me all of your money, and the right to lead your cartel. So you wouldn't be rich, you wouldn't be powerful, and you wouldn't be the boss. What would that make you, exactly?"

Mr. Big, rather than answer right away, started digging around in his pants pocket. At first Femme Fatale thought he was just scratching his butt, but then he pulled out a black velvet box with the biggest diamond ring she had ever seen.

"…Happy," Mr. Big finally answered.

"Are you serious?" Femme Fatale said flatly as she looked at the mobster and his ostentatious display.

"Femme Fatale, will you marry Mr. Big?" Mr. Big asked, not moving from the spot.

Femme Fatale couldn't help but smile slightly, not from his gesture but from the thought of him trying to get down on one knee and getting stuck. Once the humor wore off though, she realized what he actually said. Femme Fatale, spend her life with Mr. Big? That was…that was…

"No!" Femme Fatale blurted out, "Are you insane? Why would I ever want to touch or even share the same living space with someone like you? I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth!"

"Why not?" Mr. Big simply asked.

"Why not? Are you kidding? Do you not own a mirror?" Femme Fatale screamed at him, "You're gross, you're ugly, and you're fat! Even looking at you for too long makes me wanna barf!"

"So it's my looks," Mr. Big repeated for clarification.

"Of course it's your looks, not that your personality makes up for your physical ugliness in any way," Femme Fatale berated, "You have nothing to offer a woman, especially someone with eyes, a nose, and a brain."

Femme Fatale worried that she'd crossed a line with the gangster, but she didn't have the willpower to stop herself. Mr. Big really was that repulsive to her, and she couldn't even pretend to like him for the sake of money. Mr. Big, for his part, didn't get angry at her, but rather sat on one of the benches and sulked.

"So, you're not going to kill me for what I just said?" Femme Fatale pressed, unable to get out of the room due to Mr. Big's bulk blocking the exit.

"What good would it do?" Mr. Big asked morosely.

Femme Fatale didn't want to be in this awkward uncomfortable situation anymore, but she couldn't exactly leave. Why did she have to be right about Mr. Big's amorous intentions? Why was it always the ones that looked like bloated corpses that tried to have their way with her?

"You once told Mr. Big that women are judged on their looks too much," Mr. Big recalled.

"They are," Femme Fatale replied defensively, "It's not the same though. Women have been objectified by men for most of human history. We're seen by the patriarchy as nothing more than baby makers and sex objects!"

"Must be nice," Mr. Big shrugged sadly, "What you can get for free, Mr. Big can't buy for a whole drug empire. Mr. Big could've given you everything you ever wanted."

"Which is probably a mistake on your part," Femme Fatale replied unashamed, "I mean what if I had said yes? That just means I could have poisoned you and taken everything you had."

"Mr. Big always assumed you liked shooting people more," Mr. Big commented, "It's faster and easier."

"It would still mean I kill you," Femme Fatale pointed out, "So your marriage idea was stupid from the beginning."

"Would that have made you say yes though?" Mr. Big asked intently, "If you got to poison me?"

"Huh?" Femme Fatale grunted, taken aback.

"Your job is almost done, right?" Mr. Big continued, "You kill The Powerpuff Girls, and then we get married. When it's all over, when there are no more Powerpuff Girls to bother Mr. Big, then none of it will matter. The only thing missing will be you."

"You really are crazy," Femme Fatale muttered incredulously, "Why would you marry me today just for me to kill you tomorrow? Especially if you know it's coming?"

Mr. Big's black-gloved fist clenched at that statement, and before Femme Fatale realized anything had changed he bolted from his seat and rounded toward her.

"There is no tomorrow!" Mr. Big suddenly shouted, scaring Femme Fatale with his sudden shift in mood, "Tomorrow is a fake concept invented so that red-headed orphans can have hope that things'll get better! Well there ain't no tomorrow! Mr. Big lives for today, and today Mr. Big is alive and ready to kill those bug-eyed freaks! And when they're dead and fed to Fluffy, Mr. Big will finally get a good night's sleep for the first time in years! You want an empire? Mr. Big will give you an empire, and anything else you want. Just…when you can't take it no more, don't let Mr. Big see it coming…"

Mr. Big's melancholy returned as quickly as it had left, and Femme Fatale didn't know what to do. This was the closest thing to unfiltered human emotion she'd ever seen from this guy, and it was frightening. Still, the Saga Cartel under her control, millions of dollars, and the respect of every criminal in Townsville…

"So basically, you'll let me have everything you own, and kill you, just for a few moments of my time?" Femme Fatale asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Mr. Big nodded, his lifeless monotone returning.

"You have to understand how strange that sounds," Femme Fatale remarked.

"Not if it works," Mr. Big feebly argued, "Not if it gets you to marry someone you think is fat and ugly and stupid."

"I never said you were stupid," Femme Fatale corrected.

"Really?" Mr. Big asked hopefully.

"No," She confirmed, "I mean, I don't know if you're smart or not. It could be your lackies' plans, it could be dumb luck, or you could be a genius. I don't know. Frankly I can't read you, Big. I don't understand how your mind works at all. Everything you say sounds so…soulless. It always feels like there's a piece of you that's just missing. Between your grotesque appearance and your weird mannerisms it's like talking to a zombie."

"So your answer is still no?" Mr. Big inquired.

"Well…I don't know!" Femme Fatale snapped in frustration, "I mean, I guess…give me some time to think about it. I mean a marriage plus a murder/suicide pact is kind of a big deal. Just let me weigh my options before I give you an answer, okay?"

"Okay," Mr. Big replied, a ghost of a smile on his face.

"Oh, and um, Big?" Femme Fatale added, "Can I borrow that ring for a while?"

"Why?" Mr. Big asked.

"I know Mary Ann Smith," Femme Fatale admitted, "I wanna mess with her by wearing that thing."

Mr. Big paused for a moment, weighing what she just said about being acquainted with one of his biggest syndicate rivals. He looked down at the ring he held, and then back up at Femme Fatale.

"We're gonna need a bigger diamond," Mr. Big said mischievously.

Mr. Big and Femme Fatale laughed together, an evil laugh shared by evil villains. Femme Fatale didn't know how she was going to respond to Big's proposal, but in the end her answer would mostly depend on whether or not she could stomach killing him…or living with him.

Author's Notes: Hey guys, I started a Pa-tre-on for my fanfics in an effort to support my fiction writing addiction. Right now I just have a one dollar tier for support and credits at the bottom of my upcoming new fic chapters. I was too shy to ask for anything higher, but if I can conquer my nerves I might start offering higher tiers that allow Patrons to request chapters for their favorite fics. I'm not sure yet. If you want to support my work though, my username on there is Madness Jones :)