Disclaimer: I do not own any content form the Powerpuff Girls. Original characters, however, are mine and I recommend not using them against my permission. All rights to Craig McCracken and whoever he wants to credit specifically.

Author's Note: I promised myself I would update before I had to return back to the busy life and thankfully, I was able to keep that promise with only mere hours to spare. This chapter took some coercing to get it to cooperate. Also, if you guys actually bother reading this note, just know that I know that the cover art for this story isn't exactly befitting. If I wasn't so busy/lazy, I would draw one myself.

Anyways, thank you for the reviews! They are extremely motivating for such a procrastinator like me! I'm glad you guys are enjoying and I hope you enjoy and review this next chapter just as much, if not more. Authors need feedback to keep giving you guys the good stuff.

The years that the Rowdyruff Boys had been absent, probably twice as long as it's been since I first left home, did not change one thing about Butch, but they did enhance things in him. When he spoke, I could still detect the spark of insanity and eagerness in his words, although now he chose his words more carefully; the flicker of mischief in his eyes was as prominent as ever, but it was also shrouded by a sheer coat of mystery. Most importantly, he was still unpredictable, able to initiate utter unstoppable chaos in the blink of an eye, only this time, unlike every other time we had ever come face-to-face, he didn't. Well, at least not physically.

And that's what makes me feel utterly ridiculous going to meet him right now.

"Wassup, Buttercup?" Butch said.

Something unplugged in my brain for a moment. For a few seconds all I could do was stare, mouth agape, as questions ran unfiltered through my brain. But just as quickly as I was thrown off guard, I snapped back into focus, now doubly alert. If I remembered anything about the Rowdyruff boys it was their ruthlessness. If I didn't move the oncoming fight somewhere else, someone in this gym would get hurt. And as much as I can't stand these Citiesville pricks, years of being a hero must have instilled a 'sense of responsibility for the powerless' in me.

"Not here," I said to Butch curtly. I glanced around the room, gaging my distance from the door and how many people stood between me and it. He tilted his head and shrugged.

"What? No 'Hi, long time no see. You're looking fine as ever'? Buttercup, must you hurt my feelings like this," he said mockingly, grinning widely.

"Shut the hell up. If you want a fight, you got it. But not here." I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a response. I knew that just seeing him would trigger the old Buttercup to show up along with an influx of unwanted flashbacks. The last fight my sisters and I ever engaged in with the Rowdyruff boys had ended on a rather sour note. Both teams we're beaten and battered, teetering on the line of death, but there was still something bittersweet about their departure. Besides the devil himself, they were the only enemies we had to actually work hard to defeat, and I'm not sure about Blossom or Bubbles, but I always liked a challenge.

I shoved the memories to the furthest corner of my mind; they were the least of my concerns at the moment. I glanced over to where Devon stood behind the desk. He was unmistakably pissed off but by the look on his face, I could tell that he knew this was not a fight to involve himself in.

"Aww, c'mon," Butch droned, folding his arms across his chest, "Who says I wanna fight? Maybe I just wanted to catch up on old times."

I scoffed. I knew the bantering would end soon. And by his stance, I could tell that he was ready to chase me. The air around us was overflowing with tension, pungent with the smell of stale sweat and swarming with adrenaline pouring from all directions, and I knew at some point soon I would need to break out. People stood around like morons, looking between us instead of backing away like I was hoping they would while I bought them some time.

There was no more time to worry about them, though.

I gave one last reassuring glance to Devon as I sprang for the door, opening it and taking off for the sky. Behind me I could hear screaming then the sound of shattering glass. My first instinct was to fly to the roof of the gym, but something in the back of my mind told me that if I even chipped a brick on the building, the city would try to fine me despite me saving their asses. So instead, I flew through one of the windowless frames of the adjacent abandoned building, skidding to a stop in the charred remains of what looked to be someone's old living room, kicking up the accumulated dust and ash in the air. I'd be doing the city a favor by destroying this abandoned dump in a fight.

With Butch right on my heels, I knew trying to lose him was out of the question. Subconsciously, however, I think I was itching for a good fight. I turned to face him with my arms crossed over me, already braced for the impact of an oncoming attack. But when the attack never came, I took a cautious step back.

My super senses were already in hyper drive, my eyes darting back and forth, my ears perking up and drowning out every other sound except the area around me. Still, all I could see, taste, and smell was the leftover ashes and smoke of a fire that had long since burnt out. I felt a trickle of sweat beading on my forehead. I was absolutely positive that he was right behind me.

"I'm not here to play games, you-" Sensing the air suddenly shift behind me, I didn't bother to finish the sentence. I swung my fist as hard and as quickly as I could. Snapping my head around, I saw Butch behind me, swung back on his heels from dodging my fist, rubbing his jaw where my fist had just grazed.

"Still got a hell of an arm, I see," he chuckled. He cracked his knuckles and tilted his head, still grinning at me.

The banter was familiar. The setup was right. The crazy was still detectable in his eyes. But why the hell wasn't he attacking?!

"What the hell do you want?" I spat. Despite his relaxed stance, I felt myself tensing more. I wasn't currently at my best, I admit. Since leaving Townsville, my encounter with monsters and other superpowered things had dropped significantly. With less opportunities to fight (because I sure as hell wasn't going to volunteer to clean up Citiesville's mess) and no nearby training facilities specifically designed for superheroes, I had to resort to using the gym. So, Butch probably did have the advantage, but there was no way in hell he'd find out from me.

"Where's your backup?"

"None of your fucking business," I retorted. He clicked his tongue and smiled wickedly.

"Oh, but it is my fucking business. And it's why I'm here. To talk business, babe." I sneered at the 'babe'. "Wassup with the solo bit?" he continued.

"Who says I'm alone? Who says my sisters aren't on their way right now?" I could tell he already knew my sisters were none the wiser of what was going on; we both knew it was a lie. He shrugged anyway.

"So you finally admit that you would need their help taking me down, huh?" he cackled.

"Spare me the bull. We both know I could take you down on my own. I've done it before and I can do it again."

He turned around slowly in a full circle with his arms outstretched, his lips pulling into a snarling grin as he said, "Okay then, hit me with your best shot, bitch."

The taunt was meant to pull me in and force me to attack first; it worked.

Once the word 'bitch' left his mouth, I was already going full speed, charging into him, my self-control left in the spot where I once stood. The wall behind him instantly gave way the moment we went crashing into it, a cloud of dust exploding around us. I coughed and sputtered, squinting my eyes, peering through the dust.

Butch had disappeared only for a second, emerging from the dust cloud and kicking me awfully hard in the ribs. I winced, but used my bent position to plant the heel of my foot in his groin firmly. I got a small thrill seeing his eyes widen and him double over.

"Fuck. That was a low blow," he groaned. I straightened, grinning with my hand still pressed to my ribs. He had kicked me harder than I'd been hit in a while. It felt great.

I stepped forward cockily. "Now who's the bitch?" I scoffed. His responding maniacal laugh made me falter for a moment. It was enough to distract me from noticing his glowing eyes a fraction of a second earlier, allowing his laser eye beams to strike me directly in my stomach.

I went flying backwards, crashing into unidentified remains of furniture, holding my stomach. A searing pain went ripping through me. It was the first time I noticed that I was still clad in my gym clothes. Our scuffle had already taken a toll on my cheap clothes, my tank top shredded into a sports bra. My stomach was now bare and exposed, and his beams left my abdomen a stinging and angry red. I looked up, furious, my eyes already heating and ready to retaliate with laser beams of my own. I locked him in my sights and imagined burning his face off.

Instead of my laser beams burning his face off though, they rebounded from a green shield, coming straight for me, I had to duck quickly to avoid being hit full on, but they still grazed me in the shoulder. I gritted my teeth at the pain.

Butch stepped forward slowly, smirking triumphantly as he enclosed me in his shield. I stood up, frantic, pounding on the walls of the green bubble all around me. I'd forgotten he had this ability. "Let me out so I can finished beating your ass!" I hollered.

He only chuckled as he circled me, slowly drawing his hands closer together so that the shield would close in on me. "I'm pretty sure I was winning anyway," he said. "But since you're all nice and cozy now, you ready to talk?"

I leaned in, pressing both palms on the glasslike surface of the shield, widening my eyes as if I was ready to spill my innermost secrets. "Bite. Me."

He paused for a second, then barked out that maniacal laugh of his again. Suddenly, the walls of the shield were gone and I was falling forward into him. He snagged me by my wrists while I was falling and twisted so that I landed on the rough floor. I turned my wrists in his grip, palms up, and shot two energy blasts into his face that hovered mere inches above mine. He was still laughing.

"Isn't this fun? Don't you fucking miss this?" he laughed. He had me pinned on the dirty floor, seemingly unfazed by the energy blasts that I had just shot at him at close range. I was pretty sure that I could aim my knee and get another good groin shot in, but his words were still playing in my mind, temporarily taking over my thoughts. Yeah, I used to think this brawling was fun. And I DID miss this. But I decided against agreeing with him and just stared up at his face, twisted with mirth, incredulously. My mind slowly sputtering back into fight mode, I began counting off the seconds before I groin shot him again when suddenly his grip tightened and the laughter instantly fell from his voice and face.

"But we're adults now, ain't we?" He leveled his gaze with mine and narrowed his eyes, his jaw set and angular. "And I have a job to do." My heart began to race. I should've ended this when I had the chance.

"What job? For the last time, what the fuck do you want?!" I growled back. He let me go and got up, I jumped into a fighting stance, ready for him to attack again. Instead of attacking, he walked over to one of the boarded up windows, all the while, his gaze locked with mine.

"Meet me at Tom's Bar and Grill tonight. I've got something you might want to know about," he said. He finally broke eye contact, looking away with a fleeting and knowing smirk. Before I could ask the number of questions that bombarded my mind, he kicked the board from the window, stood on the ledge, and flew away. I ran to the window, ready to jump and follow him, but within mere seconds he had disappeared. Not a trace of him in the sky. Not a trace of him on the ground. No trace that he had reentered the building. The sharp whine of police sirens coming from in front of the gym assaulted my ears.

Adrenaline pumped violently through me.

And the adrenaline high still hasn't worn off.

I know it's a trap. I know the moment I step into this bar, he, and quite possibly his brothers as well, will attack me. You would think that a bar crowded with happy hour people wouldn't be the most opportune place to set up a trap to attack someone, but after years of fighting these three ass wipes I knew they would still get a kick out of innocent bystanders getting caught up in the mess.

'Why the hell are you going, then?!' one might ask. I have my reasons. For one, I know that if I don't go and see what they want now they'll just keep following and harassing me until I do. Two, if I leave them alone in that bar with all those people, I'll probably hear about it on the news tomorrow morning. And three, I'm curious about a lot of things and I want answers now.

I paused at the door to the bar and did a quick survey of my surroundings like I'd been doing the entire time that I made my way to the bar. I couldn't afford Brick or Boomer or both of them attempting a sneak attack. One Rowdyruff I could handle. Two? If I was lucky and having a good day. Three? I hate to admit it, but I wouldn't stand a chance. I'd tried it once in middle school and let's just say it wasn't one of my best fights. With an intake of breath and the clenching of my jaw, I opened the door.

The chaos level was normal – as stable as it gets at a bar in the center of Citiesville – but there was something static in the air. Following the shady looks people were casting over their shoulders, I located Butch sitting at the bar watching the small T.V screen on the wall that was playing the latest news updates. Someone else had been killed today, and Butch was smiling at the screen, obviously amused by the story. I knew why the people were keeping their distances. Luckily, there was a vacant barstool two seats down from him. The last thing I wanted to do was to sit right next to the lunatic – people might start associating me with him.

I kept my expression guarded and sat on the stool and glanced over at him. Smirking, he watched me from the corner of his eye until I sat down and turned to the bartender that was approaching me. I hoped he didn't think this was a victory for him, because whatever it is that he wanted, I would certainly make it impossible for him to get.

"I'll take a bottle of tequila," I mumbled to the bartender, a pretty woman who looked only a few years older than me.

"You meant a glass right?" she asked, an amused smirk on her face.

"No. I meant a bottle."

The smirk melted from her face and she hesitated, probably trying to decide whether or not to ask for my I.D. I guessed she decided against it, as she proceeded to get me my drink with a disgruntled grimace on her face. Before she could grab it, Butch reached out and snatched her wrist and pulled her to him. I shot up from the barstool ready to leap into action and then proceed chide myself for falling into the trap knowingly.

So of course, I felt pretty stupid when I noticed the girl was smiling, Butch whispering something in her ear. She gave a little nod and he winked, watching her back, or perhaps maybe her ass, as she continued to the other end of the bar. I mentally gagged and sat down again, not sure whether to continue with the self-chiding, or reward myself for not letting down my guard.

"What? You don't trust me?" Butch asked swinging his leg up onto the two barstools between us, like he was right at home.

"Hell no, I don't trust you. Just like I didn't trust you to leave me alone if I didn't show up," I replied.

"It's about time you caught on," he said, grinning. I crossed my arms and sneered.

"Whatever. Just tell me why I'm here," I said. I turned in the direction of the bartender and slammed my fist against the bar. "And where the hell is my tequila?!" I growled. I was getting sick of this chase for information and at any second, if I didn't start getting answers, heads would start rolling.

In a swift movement, in the barstool next to me where Butch's foot previously rested unwarrantedly, Butch sat uncomfortably close. "How would you feel about working with the other side?"

To my dismay, I flinched. I recovered just as quickly, but I'm certain Butch noticed. "What do you mean 'work' and what do you mean 'other side'?"

"The work part is classified… until you say yes. The other side should be pretty damn obvious though," he said as he tapped his finger against his cheek, seeming to wait for me to continue for him. When I only huffed, raising an eyebrow impatiently, he continued, now irritated, "One of the 'bad guys'. Y'know, since you no longer seem to take orders from that sister of yours. That red headed bitch—"

He didn't get the chance to finish before my fist connected with his jaw. Blossom and I might not see eye to eye, but I wasn't going to let some bastard Rowdyruff call her a bitch. Fortunately, most people that frequented this place most likely knew their fair share of violence, so after a small pause, they carried on with what they were doing. Butch, however, grinned.

"You really don't like that word, do you?"

"It's about time you caught on," I mocked. He massaged his jaw, doing nothing to hide his insane amusement. It was then that I promised myself that if he kept laughing when I hit him, I would knock his teeth out.

"So I take it you'll think about it?"

I scoffed and stood up from my seat, hoisting myself up onto and sliding easily over the bar. Staring the bartender in the eye, I slid a bottle of tequila from the shelf, popped it open, and took a swig. She gulped visibly and turned her head.

"I told her not to bring it to you 'til after you hit me at least twice," Butch said. I snapped my head in his direction and raised the bottle as if to bash it into his skull.

"Oh yeah? Well, I only count once. How bout we even it out?" I snarled, bringing the bottle down with force, sparing a few centimeters between the bottom of it and his skull. When he didn't flinch, I lifted the bottle to my lips again in an attempt to hide my disappointment.

Though I wasn't particularly fond of it, I could see why he chose to meet me in a bar. People were smart enough to mind their own business or were too drunk to even know their own business. Of course there were a few glances in my direction, even a cat call or two, but everyone else had their own commotion to partake in. I was just another crazy drunk bitch to them. Yet, apparently, I was the most amusing bitch on earth to Butch.

I didn't bother to sit back down at the other side of the bar, I indented to piss the bartender off in the same way she pissed me off. Besides, anyone taking orders from a Rowdyruff deserves to be disrespected. Also, from behind the counter I had an all access view of the place. I did I quick scour of every corner, looking for a flash of a red cap, a passing of blond hair; when I was certain that neither Brick nor Boomer were anywhere in the immediate area, I leaned across the counter and narrowed my eyes at Butch. "I'm not sure what kind of game you're playing, Butch," I whispered, "But if you think that just because I haven't been at my most heroic lately, that I'll ever join you and your brothers for whatever sort of disorganized debauchery you've got going on, you're even crazier than I thought. The answer is no. Fuck no."

"Not even if I show you this?" He pulled a picture from his pocket.

"No, I don't give a f–" I started. He waved the picture closer to my face and I stopped.

It was a picture of a dartboard with my face as the bull's-eye.

I snatched it from him, stared at it for a few seconds, then finally, it was my turn to laugh. "Yeah. Another ass, much like yourself, that wants the hero dead. This is brand new," I drawled sarcastically.

"Yeah that's what we thought, too. We were hoping whoever did this would either wind up on the news as the killer of a Powerpuff, or at least turn up dead so we could claim the rights." He smirked, shrugging nonchalantly, and dug into his pocket again, this time pulling out three more photos. "That's before we found these."

He placed the pictures on the bar; pictures of Brick, Boomer, and Butch, each taking turns being the bull's-eye of a dartboard.

"The best part is that each of these pics were taken in different locations; different houses," he added.

"I guess it's safe to assume that you weren't exactly invited into these houses?"

He shrugged and plastered a boyish half-grin on his face. I rolled my eyes.

I blinked down at the pictures, then took another look at the one in my hand; the one with my face on the board. Yes, it was unsettling. But, "It's not enough to make me work with you pricks. I can handle myself."

Butch placed his elbows on the counter and clasped his hands together; it was the most serious I'd seen him all night.

"Don't get us confused. We don't particularly give a fuck what happens to a puff as long as it means you ain't getting in our way. But whoever this is obviously doesn't care too much for superpowered anything in Citiesville."

I nodded in agreement. Strangely, his revelation that he and his brothers didn't care if I got killed was comforting; it meant that he was at least being honest. For the moment.

"But, like I said," he continued, snatching my half empty bottle of tequila from me, "Until you agree to work with us, the rest is classified."

I reached over to snatch my bottle back from him, but he was quicker to pull it to his lips and drain it to the last drop. As much as I felt the urge to throttle him, I knew there was no use in battling over something so irritatingly small when a situation that was bigger and definitely more irritating had just been presented to me. So I settled for shooting him a heated glare and crossing my arms. The old Buttercup was raring her head sporadically and at the moment Butch was the trigger. "Why are you telling me this if you're so indifferent to me being dead? Why not just worry about yourself if you're so 'competent'?"

"Competent, yes – In many ways." This time, his smirk was more suggestive than menacing. I'm not sure which was more disturbing. My thoughts must have been apparent on my face because his smirk only widened before he continued, "But the only reason I'm telling you personally is because, to be honest, what fun would it be if you were to be taken out by some knock off vigilante. I want to at least be there to see you get smacked around by something powerful. Something like us."

Something like us.

This didn't shock me more than it made me sick. Butch never kept it a secret that he thought he was above the rest of society. He always would rant, whenever my sisters and I would fight him and his brothers, about how much he didn't give a shit who got in the way. If they couldn't defend themselves, they weren't worth defending, he'd say. The part that made me sick was some small, twisted part deep within me agreed with him.

And it was the part of me I was still having issues with.

"These dartboard guys of yours don't even seem like a threat. No way am falling into this dumb trap – getting me to do some of your bidding while these so called vigilantes are just some of your lackeys. What do you think I am? Stupid?"

Butch snorted. "If the shoe fits, babe."

I tightened my fist and clenched my jaw; it was all I could do to stop myself from jumping over the bar and killing him. Perhaps sensing my aura, Butch leaned back from the bar and twisted out of my reach.

"Listen, nobody's pressuring you to do nothing. Walk away if you want," he said. He put his arm out to stop a drunk girl passing by, grabbing her by her waist. She batted her eyelashes at him in confusion, but the longer she held his gaze while he dug casually in her small purse, the darker and larger her pupils grew. Either she didn't care that he was rifling through her purse, or she was too distracted to notice. Personally, I was nauseated. He licked his lips and mouthed a thanks as he let her go, but she never tore her eyes away, stumbling backwards, and to my delight, falling on her ass.

Turning back to me, Butch revealed the eyeliner stick he'd just stolen with a coy grin. Wow. This new Buttercup didn't even give a shit about a villain pickpocketing right in front of her eyes. I was starting to respect her.

He grabbed a nearby napkin that I'm not entirely sure was completely clean, and started to scrawl a number on it with the thick eyeliner. When he finished, he held it out to me. "You get any second thoughts, just call."

I snatched the napkin and crumbled it into my jacket pocket, mentally setting up a reminder to toss it into the next fire I came across and watch it burn. "Don't count on it. And thanks for this little update, but it'd be best for you to stay away from me."

With that, I hoisted myself onto and over the bar again and looked over my shoulder at the bartender. She hesitated, as if she was about to remind me to pay, but I just smiled and nodded towards Butch and said, "He's paying."

"Hey!" Butch called after me. I bit back a laugh and kept walking, shoving my hands in my pockets, turning the napkin with the number on it over in one hand and pinching the edges of the picture in the other. This entire situation had turned out… different than I expected; I wasn't sure if it was better or worse. Every move that I had counted on Butch making, he didn't. And though he hid it well under his smirking and grinning, I could tell that something was unnerving him.

Still, I wasn't going to fall into a contract with them over some overzealous dartboard losers. Taking them seriously would only encourage them. Being lumped into the same category as the Rowdyruff didn't exactly make me excited either.

And at the end of the day, I was back at square one, this time with even more questions than before.

I glanced at the digital clock over the door that read 10pm. I'd wasted an hour on this bullshit when I should have been job searching. With a groan I pushed the door open and left without glancing back.

My past was hell-bent on catching up with me lately so I had to run faster.

Butch

His eyes were glued to her back until she was completely out of sight, disappearing behind the illuminated, dingy door of the bar. She may be a pain in the ass, he thought, but she sure did have a great ass.

If he weren't on the job, and had things not… changed over the years, he'd definitely be on a mission to get a closer look. It was too bad the current mission called specifically for him neither to fuck things up, nor to fuck with the future employee.

Butch turned his attention back to the bar, catching the attention of the bartender again. He waited until she came over so he could discreetly slide her a $20 bill and shoot her a wink, knowing his charm would no doubt make up for the few missing bills. The bottle the green Puff had swiped was one of the more expensive ones. Just as he expected, she shuddered a little and nodded understandingly. He chuckled to himself, thinking of the aggressive superpowered girl that had just left the bar a moment ago, ditching the bill for him to pay. He didn't give her too much slack about it. The more debt she owed him, the bigger his cash-in.

He whipped out his cellphone and speed dialed a number; it was answered on the first ring.

"Yo, it's done… Yeah, I handled it… Expect a call no later than tomorrow morning… Got it, I'm out."

He ended the called, stuffing the phone back in his pocket and standing up from the barstool. His job was done for now and until the next call, he'd have a little fun.

Now… where was that little blond he had stolen the eyeliner from?

I hit the wall with a thud, desperately trying to stay on my feet. The room was spinning and if it didn't stop soon my stomach was threatening to empty its contents right here with no regards to the situation. I could taste metal in my mouth, the result of my deeply cut lip. I was surrounded and pissed off enough to take out an entire army. Unfortunately, I must've screwed up somewhere between laughing with my friends and not caring, because my powers were gone and of no use to me now.

Karma seemed to track and tack me wherever I went, even during my little day trip to Citiesville. Still, I didn't think skipping history class for a quick round with friends would warrant such a bitchy reaction.

I had already taken down three of the masked morons, but I didn't have the opportunity to get their identities. Four more stood in a semi-circle around me, my back was pressed hard against the cold, brick wall of the alley. Who would've thought that stepping out for an 'experimental' smoke would result in an ambush?

"Are you gonna finish this or what?" I spat.

"Shut your face and get the hell out of our city, stupid, freakish slut," the tallest of the masked figures spat back.

"If you think drugging me will stop me from kicking your ass, then I've got a surprise for you," I scoffed. I was confident that my fighting skills, even without the help of my powers, would get me out of here in one piece. Really, these guys weren't much of a threat on their own. All I had to do was stall until there was a chance for me to attack two of them at once.

"You shouldn't have come here in the first place," the lanky one cut in again. "We've got enough freaks in our city. We don't need you fucking things up with your so called powers."

"Yeah, whatever. I don't give a fuck what happens to your city. I've got my own problems, shit face, so back off and let me get back to them," I responded. My anger was reaching its boiling point. I was trying to no avail to think like Blossom and deal the situation logically. The only possible scenario that played through my mind, however, was knocking out a few teeth and keeping them as souvenirs.

Blossom was going to scream my ears off for years about this. Skipping class AND letting down my guard, somehow losing my powers in a place as shady as a bar in Citiesville? 'Absolutely reckless and illogical'. Not to mention that if she decided to be responsible and tell the Professor, I'd be on lockdown for who knows how long.

That was that very last thing I needed. So my only option was to get out of here and get back to Townsville without them knowing and to act NOW.

I noticed a small opening between two of the goons, and barreled into them, shoving my fists deep into their stomachs. They doubled over, winded. I moved to double kick them in their heads to finish them off, but the other two had caught up to me already. One was behind me restraining my wrists while the other came around and slugged me in my jaw.

I spit on him, smirking when he roared and let down his guard. I swung the skinny guy behind me who was restraining my wrists over my shoulder, throwing him into the guy in front of me. I may have dislocated my shoulder in doing so, but had also successfully taken down two more guys. Now all I had to do was finish off–

I gasped. One guys was still doubled over on the ground, but the other had gotten up. Before I could do a full scan of the alley, I was pushed hard, face-first into the brick wall. Both of my hands were pinned and there was a knee pressing into my back.

"Not so strong without your powers, huh?" the guy grunted. His ski mask muffled his voice, yet I could tell he was struggling to speak and regain his breath after I'd winded him. I took major pride in that.

"I may not be able to burn your face off right now, but as you can see, I can still whoop ass. I'm warning you, let me go."

The guy grunted and dug his knee deeper into my back and I suppressed a painful groan, resorting to gritting my teeth. "When we're done with you, your powers will always be as useless to you as they are n—"

Just as he was about to finish his little speech, his weight was lifted off of me. I had no time to question why, nor did I particularly care. I just turned to finish him only to find him slumped against the opposite brick wall with a dark, shadowy figure standing over him. Counting the bodies that littered the ground, I came up with seven, each of them wearing ski masks. This guy, the one without the mask, couldn't be one of them. I took tentative step towards him. Jet black hair, tall stature, built. He wasn't one of the friends I had come here with either.

I took a more surefooted step on one of the fallen ski mask idiots, causing him to groan painfully. The tall figure snapped his head around, but most of his face was still hidden in the shadows of the building.

All I could register were piercing green eyes and part of a grimace.

"Leave. Now."

Usually, I don't listen to complete strangers. Usually, I punch the lights out of anyone who tried to tell me what to do. My gut however, was practically begging me to take this guy's advice and get the hell out of here immediately. I didn't bother to unmask any of the guys on the ground, or to ask the stranger any questions. I just ran.

I don't remember exactly when or how I'd gotten back to Townsville, but I do know school was far past over and that I had some serious explaining and negotiating to do.

But my mind only kept bringing back images of those menacing green eyes.

I pushed myself from my bed, feverish and drenched in sweat. I ran my fingers through my hair and inhaled, hoping the familiar scent of my room would calm me down.

I never had a dream about that situation before. It was the same night that the Professor and I had gotten into our big fight. When I did dream, it was always about my fight with the Professor, not the fight that happened before it.

What did it mean?

My body convulsed. The feeling of helplessness was just as real in the dream as it was in real life. The old Buttercup would have just brushed it off as adrenaline. I agreed with her, but I also had the sense to know and admit what fueled that adrenaline. Fear.

I reached over to my nightstand, grabbing my jacket. I hadn't bothered to empty my pockets or undress more than my jacket and sneakers once I got home. My fight with Butch had me aching in muscles that I forgot existed and my bed was offering me instant solace, so I embraced it.

Now, I was frantically ransacking my pockets, emptying their contents in my lap. I pulled out a couple of gum wrappers, some spare change, a crumbled napkin, my phone, and the picture I snagged from Butch. I looked at the picture by the light of my phone. Nothing was different from the first time I looked at it in the bar, but the picture held new meaning to me. My gut was giving me that same feeling it did all those years ago, and I knew I had to listen to it without question again.

I tapped the screen on my phone and swiped away my drafted apology message to Bubbles. I would call her later and explain. Something more pressing than an upset sister was happening and I didn't like it one bit.

Now happy I hadn't incinerated the crumbled napkin like I originally planned, I opened it and dialed the smudged, yet legible numbers into my phone and pressed call. It was 6 in the morning, but I didn't really care if I was imposing on sleep. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it on my own terms.

Someone answered on the first ring.

Spare thoughts, opinions, and/or ratings?