I have to forewarn; there is a Ritz-Carlton in Chicago, but I didn't look at any pictures of it and went off of what I think it would look like. I've only been to Chicago... three times, two? So I don't know it very well and the next couple bits about might not be topographically correct.

The next morning, Bubbles was feeling introspective. Their father had called and spoken, rather quietly, to Sera, and they'd arranged the press conference for 5:30 pm next Friday in Chicago. Bubbles had wearily packed her bags (she didn't need much since they were heading to Chicago Wednesday and leaving Sunday), and, as she had, she'd told Fabio everything about her former life. He'd been so patient and a great listener. He had asked few questions, but otherwise he had listened attentively. And when he had left, he had shown no signs of being afraid or annoyed with her. Or so Bubbles hoped.

She glanced down at her packed black duffel bag as she went out into the corridor and down the hall to the bathroom. She only needed six hours of sleep to get by, and was wide awake as soon as she opened her eyes. Normally, she was up before the sun, but that was a good thing since she could use the shower for a good, long time if she wanted. That morning, her muscles were so bunched up and strained, it took forever to get relaxed, and she'd had to use a fair amount of the hot water to do so. She hurriedly washed her hair with her Tresemme shampoo, then used the last of her favorite strawberry body wash and face scrub. The shower took thirty minutes, one of her longer showers since she normally took only ten minutes.

As she wrapped the towel around herself, she looked down at the long white scar cut into her hip. She grimaced at the memory of the gushing waterfall of blood, Blossom's hands pressed over the wound, the frayed edges of blackened skin… She shivered, her skin tingling. Padding over to the mirror, she wiped away the white steam so she could see herself better. Her platinum blonde hair was in wet ropes around her pale, heart shaped face, her blue eyes secretive as always. She was, many remarked, pretty, but she didn't see it or care to. She sighed heavily, her narrow, elegant shoulders sagging.

Bubbles wandered into the corridor and back to her room, the whole way thinking of Fabio and their conversation the night before. He had been so considerate and kind, and he hadn't asked any questions about Sera (though Bubbles answered all of them before he could ask). She pushed her door open and dropped her towel, hastily dressing in dark wash skinny jeans, a white tee-shirt with the Mariner Bobcat stenciled on the front in dark blue, and a black sweater with no logo or symbol. She ran a brush through her damp hair a few times before heading downstairs for breakfast. The professor was already down there, and the TV was on. Bubbles hesitated, watching the TV from her unseen position on the steps.

It was channel 6's own Harold Brawn again, and he was drawling well known information about the Powerpuff Girl's again, but the story soon took a turn for the worst.

"Almost a week ago, ex-Mayor Charles Morelli of Chicago was murdered in his own home by an arch rival of the Powerpuff Girl's, known simply as 'Him'." An image of him appeared on the screen, but unlike the image given to Bubbles by Sera, this one showed only his feminine features, making him look rather unthreatening and lovely. "It is believed that Morelli's murder was a challenge from 'him' to the now retired Powerpuff Girls, whose current whereabouts are unknown."

Bubbles blood ran cold. Thank god the media didn't know where they lived.

The TV flicked off and, with a grunt, the professor got to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. Bubbles still couldn't believe he had caved and allowed the girls to go to Chicago for the press conference. But, she reflected silently, it would likely end in disaster.

***

That Wednesday night came around far too fast for Blossom and Bubbles, who were far from ready to board the plane with the professor. But Buttercup was anxious for them to be gone. She had to… well. That was for another time.

Bubbles hated air planes with so much passion it was shocking she would consent to getting on one at all. She despised confined places to the extreme and the turbulence that rocked the plane as they glided shakily through the thick stream of clouds hanging over Chicago made her grip Blossom's hand with a bone breaking strength. Blossom attempted to reassure her sister that everything would be fine, but it was taxing and Bubbles was too wound up in her own fear to acknowledge Blossom and the professor's existence as she kept her eyes glued to the window. She hated being unable to see, she hated being surrounded by wave after wave of stark white, she hated the bumps and rattles that made the plane groan, she hated when the plane started to tilt towards the air port. Everything about air planes was loathsome, and she was eager to get off the stupid metal death trap when they touched the ground with an unpleasant jolt. Blossom laughed when Bubbles shrieked, but the people around them seemed not to notice. Something was familiar about these two girls and their father, but what? They couldn't place it, and, thankfully, didn't realize that they had been breathing the same air as the forlorn Powerpuff Girls until long after they'd exited the plane.

Bubbles practically sprinted off the plane. Since she had forfeited her powers and become accustomed to walking on solid earth, it was disconcerting to be off the ground. She doubted that, if she could ever fly again, she would like the whipping wind that blew bugs into her big eyes, or the wet air that pressed on her like a weight, or the lack of oxygen that made her light headed. She didn't know how she had come to love the sensation all those years ago, but she though the joyous feeling that had encompassed her so many times in her youth would ever appear again.

"Jeez, Bubbles, you acted like the plane was going to fall out of the sky at any moment." Blossom chided, rubbing her aching hand as they walked down to baggage claim. Bubbles hoisted her formless brown back pack higher on her shoulder, clutching her Sookie Stackhouse book like a Christian holds the bible. She hadn't gotten to read much on the flight because she'd been too nervous to take her eyes off the window. She moaned inwardly at the prospect of getting back on that thing on Sunday, but pushed aside those thoughts as they waited impatiently for their luggage.
"I hate flying, okay?" Bubbles replied stubbornly. Blossom eyed her curiously.

"You loved it years ago." She pointed out quietly.

"Yeah, that was a decade ago, Blossom. People change."
Blossom couldn't help but agree with how accurate that was, especially coming from Bubbles, who used to be air headed and oblivious and over all very blonde. But looking at her now and then… you wouldn't know it was the same person, not with those smoky purple rings under her huge eyes, or the ever present worry lines carved into her forehead, or the sad absence of laugh lines around her mouth. Bubbles glanced at her sister, disturbed by her intense scrutiny of her face.

"Is there something in my teeth?" Bubbles asked. Blossom stared at her in muffled shock, surprised to hear such a vain thing cross Bubbles lips. She laughed out loud, and Bubbles flushed bright red.

Finally, the luggage began to come out, and, rather quickly, the girls and their father had their bags and were heading for the Hertz bus. The ride to the car rental place was bumpy and kidney jarring, but the man who drove—Barney, his name tag said—was nice and offered agreeable conversation with the professor the whole way. Bubbles was silent (as usual), and Blossom texted furiously on her Razor, having multiple conversations with several friends of hers. Bubbles rarely used Quickfire suddenly beeped to alert her she had a text, and she pulled out her phone, surprised to see the message was from Buttercup. She was disappointed Fabio hadn't contacted her yet (nothing between them had changed, even after Bubbles confession), but she heartlessly tossed away that concern and read what Buttercup had to say.

B careful, sis. I just hrd on TV that HE was spotted in Chicago this morning.

Bubbles eyes widened.

R u serious???

Yah, unfortanately.

Bubbles would normally reprimand Buttercup for her awful spelling, but she was too chilled at what her sister had told her to. She flipped her phone shut after a moment, looking forlornly out the window at the passing, bustling city. The giant, chrome and metal sky scrapers kissed the cloudy, grey sky, the sun's groping rays blocked by a huge wall of swirling, sickly clouds. She saw people of all kinds on the streets; homeless people, business men and women, hippies, gang bangers, skaters, emos, joggers, cheerleaders… all of them talking, laughing, cursing, joking, or begging as they went about their lives, oblivious to Bubbles and Blossom's existence in the bus. That had always unnerved Bubbles, the sheer realization that millions upon millions of people didn't know you existed and didn't care one way or another if you died. This had made her cynical and jaded, but it also kept her grounded. She knew, by simply watching the average people on the side walks, that the world did not revolve around her. She wished sometimes that her sisters' understood that, but alas, Blossom didn't seem to care and Buttercup was too wrapped up in her badassism. They were, Bubbles reflected mournfully, a bit self-absorbed and clueless. But Bubbles couldn't berate them for that; she had been ten times more narcissistic when she was younger, and the only reason she'd changed was because of a very grievous occurrence. She could never wish the same upon Blossom or Buttercup, even if it would change them. Then again, though, was Bubbles' change a good thing or a bad thing?
Bubbles sighed. Now who seemed egocentric? She shook her head and dug her long finger nails into the cloth of the back pack, which sat in her lap like a rock. She had brought with a very large amount of books, since she was a fast and comprehensive reader. Though Bubbles was unaware of it, she had come to surpass Blossom—Smart Alec Blossom!—in intelligence and academics. Blossom was intensely aware of her sister's smarts, and she tried not to be competitive with her, but it was hard to simply sit back and let Bubbles out do her. It was also hard not to blame Bubbles for losing their powers, something that Blossom secretly hated her sister for doing. Buttercup didn't feel the same at all; she was such a hard ass, it hadn't made that much of a difference for her. But for Blossom, the change from being powerful to powerless had been hard. She hoped that, one day, she could somehow get her powers back, but that seemed a distant and despondent idea that Blossom should've been too smart to foster. All of the same, that intense longing and desire lingered in her veins. It felt like, the day she'd drank the liquid Z, a very large part of her heart—a part she hadn't know existed—had died and, ever since, she'd been covering it up by becoming popular and being a show off and teacher's pet. Blossom hated herself some days for that, but others she felt totally okay with herself. Today was one of those good-days; she felt wanted, texting her friends and such. She laughed at something Allison had said, and at just that moment, the bus lurched to a halt and they get off the heavy vehicle. What seemed like eternity later, they had a minivan, and were heading to their swanky hotel in the heart of the city.

The hotel was called The Ritz-Carlton, and Bubbles mouth fell open when she saw it. It looked like one of those hotels you saw in movies about rich people, complete with a valet and bellboy who took their minimal things to their rooms. The people in the richly decorated lobby were distinctly snobby, with fancy, designer clothes and bad attitudes. They moved around the room, eyeing Bubbles, Blossom, and their father suspiciously. Obviously, the family didn't look like the ritzy type, and the rich people were very curious and very apprehensive as to why a middle-class family would dare enter their hotel. Bubbles clenched her jaw nervously as they moved across the opulent room to the long, gold desk that took up an entire, long wall. There were boxes for keys behind it, and the clerk was as snooty as the guests.

It was a very gorgeous, tan Asian woman with very thick, luxurious black hair that shone beautifully in the soft gold light that illuminated the room. She wore a lovely draped grey dress, and was quite slim. She eyed them with her disconcerting, almond shaped brown eyes, seeming quite reluctant to check them in on the fancy computer.

But, they were in the system; not only that, ex-Mayor Charles Morelli's wife, Matilda Morelli, had paid for the whole thing and had given them infinite funds for room service. Bubbles was shocked and dismayed. Matilda shouldn't be paying so much money on them! But, they couldn't object without seeming rude, and soon they were up in there reserved room on the top floor.

The room was large, with big, clear windows that displayed to them the entire patchwork of metal that was Chicago. The room itself was quite large and luxurious, with two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The bedroom Bubbles and Blossom were to stay in was painted a pristine blue, with a king size bed that had the finest, silkiest sheets Bubbles had ever seen or felt. There were tranquil black and white images of forests and oceans, and a huge plasma screen TV sitting on a glass cabinet filled with DVDs. The windows took up most of the walls, but Bubbles pulled the curtains shut since the image of the wan sky frightened her. She checked out the bathroom, which was large and had a huge Jacuzzi with soaps and shampoos and bubbles, even a place for champagne or other drinks imbedded into the rim. It was immaculate and extremely clean.

Bubbles and Blossom joined their father in the living room of their suite (it was airy, with a large TV and comfortable blue couches with a book shelf in the corner).

"What do we do until the press conference on Friday?" Bubbles inquired as they sat down and flicked on the TV, flipping through the channels to become acquainted with the system.

"Anything we want." Their father smiled encouragingly. "We could go to the museums and the aquarium and the planetarium, not to mention the restaurants and the sky scrapers."

"That would be fun," Bubbles agreed earnestly, but Blossom looked stumped, if that was the right word.

"I kinda wanted to check out the shopping district." Blossom suggested weakly. The professor looked at her in surprise. "I've been saving up my allowance. I have… $150."

The girls didn't work, since there weren't many places to work in Mariner for fifteen year olds, and instead made anywhere from five to seven dollars a week in chores. The fact that Blossom had saved up that much money was suspicious, to say the least.

"Alright, we can go shopping, too, at some point." The professor leaned back into the couch, but they could see the ghost of disapproval in his tired features. "Tonight, I think we should stay in."
"Yeah," Bubbles looked to Blossom, but her opinion wouldn't have mattered much to her. Blossom's face fell again, but she didn't object, merely shrugging in a neutral gesture that didn't match her disappointed face.

"I think I'll take a bath." Blossom decided, getting to her feet and disappearing from the room. The professor and Bubbles stared after her in confusion.

"Well—" The professor began, but Bubbles cell phone ringing cut him off. Bubbles held up a finger in a 'wait' signal. She opened her phone, just a little surprised to find Buttercup was calling her.

"Buttercup, why—?"

"Bubbles, I'm in trouble."
"Huh?"
"Me and Mitch's thugs did some bad shit, and now, we're at the police station." Buttercup explained swiftly and silently. Bubbles eyebrows shot up on her pale forehead.

"What exactly did you do?" Bubbles whispered, getting to her feet and wandering into the hall so the professor wouldn't hear the conversation.

"We were caught doing some graffiti on a stopped train, and the police caught us." Buttercup told her anxiously. "You have to help me out!"
"I can't. What do you think I can do? We're a million miles away in Chicago." Bubbles pointed out wryly, but concern for her sister made her stomach twist and her skin prickle.

"Talk to the police, convince them not to keep me here until dad gets back!" Buttercup exclaimed desperately.

"Buttercup, you might be better off staying at the police station or something until we do get back. We shouldn't have let you stay home by yourself in the first place." Bubbles hissed angrily.

"What? Are you serious, girl?" Buttercup cried.

"Is that why you decided to stay home? Because you and Mitch's friends were going to tear the place up?" Bubbles sneered, suddenly feeling an intense fury rip through her body like wild fire.

"No!" Buttercup objected fiercely, but Bubbles' silence bespoke of her doubt. "Okay, yeah, Mitch, me, and his buds were gonna tear the town up old school, ya know? Have some fun and shit, but we didn't expect to get caught."

"I thought you hated Mitch!" Bubbles accused.
"I do! But he challenged me and I couldn't turn that bitch boy down!" Buttercup exclaimed, enraged at Bubbles inability to understand her situation.
"You can't rise to that kind of bait, Buttercup!" Bubbles reprimanded irately.

"Mitch pisses me off! Don't blame me, blame him!"

"Why the hell would you stay home to help Mitch rip the town up?"

"He'd have made fun of me forever if I hadn't done this with him!"
"Now you have a criminal record!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
That made Bubbles fall silent, wrath making it difficult to speak. Buttercup had risen to Mitch's wretched bait and now she was in jail.

"I can't help you." Bubbles pointed out, her voice eerily calm as she struggled to suppress her mounting ire.

"Get Blossom then! She'll convince him." Buttercup commanded harshly.

"No, Buttercup. You need this. You need to understand that with bad actions come bad consequences." Bubbles intoned wisely.
"What, are you some kind of Confucius fortune cookie now?" Buttercup jeered spitefully, her tone seething.
"It's true." Bubbles snapped irritably. "Clichés are there for a reason. They're true and real and you need to understand cause and effect better!"
"Isn't that crap from science?"
Bubbles smacked her forehead with her palm, greatly incensed.

"Dear sweet holy Jesus!" She shrieked quietly into the phone. "Get some brains in that empty head of yours! I won't tell dad because we're sisters, but you have to get these consequences."
"You bitch!" Buttercup snarled. "As soon as you come back, I swear, I'm gonna kick you're a—"

Bubbles hung up before she could finish.

She returned to the room, seething with rage at her sister's insolence. The professor eyed her skeptically.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired distrustfully. Bubbles glued a fake, face splitting smile on her face and shook her blonde head.

"No, Buttercup just couldn't find her keys." Bubbles lied smoothly.

"So why did she call you?"
"I knew where they were." Bubbles shrugged. "I think I'm going to go and read."
With that, Bubbles disappeared into the suite, pulling out her cell phone once more and dialing Fabio's number.