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'm actually surprised that I even updated this as quickly as I did. I'd like to personally thank my English class for giving me access to Word and having nothing for me to do. ALSO, there WILL be a bit of every PPG/RRB in the near future hopefully~ *wink*

Anyways, as always 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.

Enjoy your read!

2 hours, an address, and the very specific instruction: 'do not fly'. Whoever answered my call was very prompt and did not offer me a chance to identify or introduce myself before handing over those bits of information and hanging up. I somehow convinced myself to carry on with the meeting despite the hasty rudeness of the person on the other line. Before I rushed to get dressed and do anything though, I decided it would be best to clear my younger sister's head which was most likely flooded with outlandish scenarios, a million worries, and too many apologies by now. I hadn't responded to her text for almost 2 days now, so I speed dialed her.

Bubbles had always been an early riser; she didn't want to miss one minute of the day. So despite it being 6:30 in the morning, her voice was lively when she answered her cellphone on the second ring with a relieved squeal of, "Buttercup!"

"Yeah… Listen Bubs, I'm sorry for not responding sooner. I got a little… caught up on things. But I-"

"No, I'm sorry, Buttercup!" she cut in, "I shouldn't have done that without asking how you felt about it. I know it was probably too soon for you but I just wanted to make things right."

I sighed and nodded, even though she couldn't see me. "I know, Bubbles. I know you didn't intend for things to turn out like they did. But let's just agree to disagree on this and take things one step at a time. Promise that you'll let me handle this on my own for now."

"Okay, I promise! If I could pinky swear through the phone, I would."

I grinned. Bubbles had this perplexing ability to somehow lighten even the darkest of my moods. In my momentary silence I spent musing to myself, she had launched into a tale about one of her classes and I didn't dare interrupt her. I liked to think of it as my apology for having her worry for so long.

Once she wrapped up her story, and after more reassuring and apology accepting, I ended my call with Bubbles. I sighed in exasperation and glanced at the time.

I only had an hour and a half left to get ready. Typically, I'd start getting ready when there were only 20 minutes to get to where I needed to be. Considering the fact that today I had to get there without flying, however, I decided to get ready and be on my way as soon as possible. Mostly this was to avoid letting my procrastination mode kick in like it always does.

I showered for fifteen minutes in my small, personalized bathroom, and stood in front of the steam covered mirror for five. Before I decided to get dressed only to change my mind later, I had to ask myself a few questions face-to-face.

Was I really going doing this? Yes.

Why? Because I'm curious.

About what? Why the Rowdyruffs are here, why I had no clue about them being here, and why they're seeking me out now and not destroying things.

Are you actually considering teaming up with them? Hell no. I'm not sadistic or suicidal.

And most importantly, how much do you plan to piss them off after you get the information you need? A hell of a lot.

I grinned at myself in the mirror, now feeling simultaneously anxious and excited. Anxious about the Rowdyruffs' reason behind asking me, of all people, to work with them. And excited about the impending opportunity to fight something or someone worthy after all this time. Some might think that fighting monsters for more than ten years of your life would get tiring, and they're right. But nothing compares to the boredom and frustration that comes with being deprived of a good fight for three years.

Since my short fight with Butch yesterday, and though I hate to admit this, my heart hasn't stopped racing. Something that old Buttercup buried somewhere deep within me has been reignited like a match to one of Bubbles's stuffed animals soaked in gasoline. I wanted more. I wanted to fight; I wanted to be fought with; I wanted to be challenged.

Okay so maybe I was a little sadistic. Apparently, everyone realized this long before I did. Blossom and Bubbles knew every time they had to physically restrain me from going 'too far' in a fight. The Professor knew every time I came home with another notice from school that said I had been suspended for unnecessary violence. Everyone in school knew when I would get detention for playing too roughly in gym class. Everyone knew it, but all the while I felt like I was only doing what was necessary.

My steamy grin turned into a clear grimace as the steam faded from the mirror.

'You're too much, Buttercup. Why must you always go so far? Where did I go wrong…'

I felt a pang of guilt colliding with hurt, regret, and fury in the pit of my gut. Shit. Now was not the time to start feeling like shit for something that happened years ago. It was time to move on, figuratively and literally. I'd been standing here naked and nostalgic for fifteen minutes, ten longer than I initially intended.

I only had forty five minutes to be at the address I was given and with how traffic would most likely be at 8 in the morning, I'd just barely make it if I left now.

After combing out my hair (and mentally reminding myself to cut it soon, as it had gotten way past my preferred shoulder length) I threw on something semi-professional – a white dress shirt, a pair of black slacks, and a dark green blazer. I haven't worn heels since that time I got forced to dress up for some shitty and pointless dance in 9th grade, and I haven't worn dress shoes since that one interview I had when I first moved to Citiesville and started looking for a job. Even if I knew where the dress shoes were, they probably still had splotches of blood on them from the interview's nose after I punched him in the face for touching my ass.

Therefore, I inevitably had to throw on my black and neon green sneakers. Whoever the boss was would have to get the fuck over it if he wanted my cooperation with anything.

I closed the door, locked every lock (can't ever be TOO safe in this place), and left.

Fuck the bus. Fuck public transportation in general. Fuck the fact that I couldn't fly to this place.

Since my car was still out of commission, I was forced to endure the glaring, the sneezing, the crying, the hacking, the gum popping, the snapping, the bad choice in music, and the smell of people who don't believe in showers on the city bus. Had I not been in such a rush, I would have definitely walked. I pushed my way through the last cluster of people that refused to make way for me, and stepped down from the bus. I could almost kiss the ground with relief.

No time for that, though. I was already five minutes late and, according to my phone's GPS, I still had a five minute walk to the place.

Citiesville and its constituents are grimy in every sense of the word. I kept my head down, my hands in my pocket, my fists tightly clenched, and my teeth gritted as I trekked down Market ave. Luckily, I had only managed to get whistled at twice, and asked for change three times before my GPS told me to turn the corner and that I had arrived at my destination. My phone conveniently died right its announcement. Between Bubbles's longwinded ability and the constant use of its GPS to this strange place, I guess my phone felt like it needed a break. I didn't blame it.

According to the address, my destination was an 8 story high, corporate building covered in tinted windows. It was on the deserted, dead-ended Badding Lane, sandwiched between two other buildings that appeared to be abandoned years ago. Automatically I guessed that the windows were tinted to make it seem as if this building had been abandoned too. I took a moment to narrow my eyes at the number of the building in annoyance.

666 Badding Lane. How much more cliché could you possibly get? I rolled my eyes, so hard I'm pretty sure they almost got stuck, and opened the unnecessarily heavy glass door.

Even with the heavily tinted glass windows, the lights were dim on the inside. In the middle of the lobby, there was only a huge, black reception desk. I only realized when I got close to it that no one was there. There were no brochures and no directory, only a small silver bell. I reached out to ring the bell, but before I could tap it, I felt someone materialize beside me. I gasped and jumped back, throwing my fists up to defend myself. Shit, I knew it was a trap!

"May I help you, Miss?" A short woman with jet black hair in an all-black business suit asked in a light, airy voice, similar to Bubbles's. She didn't look like she was going to attack, and she didn't even seem to register my fighting stance, so I relaxed before I made a fool of myself too early.

I eyed her warily for a moment before carefully responding, "Yeah, I guess. I was instructed to come to this address for… a consultation?"

She nodded and ducked her head, saying something so incredibly low I could hardly hear it into her earpiece. After a short moment she looked back up to me with a wide, courteous smile.

"Yes, Miss Utonium, please follow me."

I cringed slightly at the use of my long ignored last name, but followed her anyway. We walked a short distance to an elevator where she pushed the up button and the doors opened immediately.

The only issue was that there was no elevator there.

"What the hell…" I whispered.

"Please proceed to the 8th floor, Miss Utonium," the dark haired woman said. The quizzical look on my face must have spoken for me because she nodded and added, "By way of flying."

I blinked, then shrugged, stepping into the elevator shaft and hovering just long enough to nod my thanks to the woman, then I flew up. Once I reached the top floor, signified by the only set of steel doors, I glanced around. No button to open the door. I sighed in frustration and moved to pry the doors open with force. The moment I touched them, they flew open. Again, I sucked in air, jumped back, and got into a defensive stance. Once I sensed that there was no incoming attack, I took my first real look at whoever opened the doors and I was greeted by familiar deep blue eyes, disheveled blond hair, and a boyish face with a goofy grin.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Buttercup," Boomer said. He glanced down at his ridiculously expensive watch then looked up at me again, "showing up 15 minutes late, as expected."

I sighed. I guess I was right about this being a Rowdyruff affair. Regardless of his lax stance and goofy grin, I still tensed up, preparing myself mentally for an attack.

"Hi Boomer," I said plainly. Boomer and I fought, like I had with the other Rowdyruffs, but he and I never really picked fights with each other. So I held only a little less animosity toward him than I did his equally obnoxious but much more instigative brothers. Still, he and I were enemies so I didn't let my defense waver. He stepped back to let me through the doors and into the foyer, which I did very guardedly.

"Boss's office is straight to the back. Don't make any other turns, don't open any other doors, and try not to touch anything. Everything here is most likely more valuable than your life," he said, grinning proudly.

"And stolen, I bet," I scoffed, crossing my arms.

"Yeah, it is. And?" he replied. He raised his eyebrows at me, waiting for a rebuttal. I only sneered and proceeded to make my way down the dimly lit hallway.

I counted 3 doors on either side of the hallway and, each of them almost blending in perfectly with the dark walls. As tempted as I was to tick the Rowdyruffs off and break something stolen and expensive, I kept my arms crossed.

In an 8 story building with no elevator, probably no stairs, all glass windows, most likely all three Rowdyruffs, and a bunch of their lackeys, I was in no position to get into a physical altercation.

Even though I so badly wanted to.

Eventually, I reached the other end of the hall where the big, lacquered wooden door that separated me and the next room displayed an enormous gold name plate. Before I even read the name, I knew there was only one person it could belong to.

Brick X., CEO

I snickered at the X. Who did Brick think he was kidding? He'd was and always would be known as the son of a bitch ass monkey named Mojo. Maybe not here in Citiesville, where he apparently had made a name for himself, but definitely in Townsville. And definitely to me. It was ammunition I would always recall in the case of a much needed verbal lashing.

I stood there for a moment, waiting for someone to materialize, swing the door open, or just scare the shit out of me like they'd been doing since I stepped foot into this building, but nothing happened. Finally, I knocked on the door.

"Come in," someone, mostly likely Brick, responded. I turned the knob and pushed the door open. The office was, like the rest of the building, dim, though the walls were a brilliant white. Everything in the room – the furniture, the moderate décor, and the pens – were all made of glass or chrome, with touches of red and black here and there. More importantly, everything looked beyond expensive.

Brick sat in a high-backed leather chair behind an oversized, glossy black, glass top desk. Butch sat on the edge of the desk. They both looked up as I entered the room.

"Speak of the devil," Butch said, grinning like he knew something that I didn't. I narrowed my eyes at him. It was all I could do to not punch him in the face.

"Shut up, Butch. Just pull up a seat for her and go back to watching camera 2. Cindy is still on probation, so I want you to watch her at all times," Brick said.

"Watch Cindy? Gladly. Pull up a chair for a Powerpuff?" He looked me up and down then turned back to Brick with a smirk, "I think she can handle it."

By this point I was biting my tongue. Despite this whole operation being run by the Rowdyruff Boys, it was still a professional setting, so I kept most to what I had to say to myself. I couldn't help but mutter, "Ass" as Butch walked by, though.

"I know. I've got a great one, don't I?" he responded.

'Don't kill him, Buttercup. Not now.' My conscious is smart sometimes, so I followed its advice and stood rigid until Butch left the room and closed the door. By the time I stopped biting the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out, I could taste blood.

I grabbed a chrome finished chair, placed it in front of Brick's gaudy desk, and sat down. Brick sat back while he watched my exchange with Butch with interest. Now that Butch was gone, he leaned forward, and though he was steel-faced, I could easily see the glint of amusement in his eyes. "You're late," he said.

I let out an unexpected burst of laughter. "How ironic. You ask your idiot brother to stalk me, fight me, and try to convince me to work with you guys, and you're more worried about how late I show up instead of whether or not I came here to kill you? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. That's very smart of you, Mr. Jojo."

Without missing a beat, Brick responded, "No. I only asked my moronic brother to seek you out and let you know the current situation that, for some reason, involves you. The stalking is an exaggeration, and the fight had nothing to do with me. This is a professional business; how late you are decides how seriously I should take you. You won't try to fight and or kill me because you're largely outnumbered and overpowered. And yes, I am still the smart one, Ms. Utonium."

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes. "Okay, so get to it then. What exactly is it that you do and how illegal is it? And what exactly is this 'current situation' shit?"

His lips twitched, hinting at a smirk. A smug smirk. "You probably don't know this, but a lot of the richer people in Citiesville don't agree with this 'anti-superpower' campaign that the city is sticking with, so they pay us to guard their possessions," he answered.

I raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "And you expect me to believe you guys actually help people other than yourselves?"

Brick's business-like demeanor didn't falter. He only sat back and tilted his head slightly. "After we've taken what we want, of course we help. For the right amount, that is."

"What do you mean after you've taken what you want?" I asked. I was growing more and more uncomfortable about the situation.

"We break in and take a few pieces of value without getting caught. They cry to the police about the burglary, but the police find no evidence. Then they come crying to us, hoping that our superpowers will somehow give us the ability to locate their possessions. All of them are idiots, mind you. Anyway, once we receive our non-refundable payment, we return most of the shitty goods, but keep the most expensive things for ourselves. We tell them that all the expensive shit must've already been pawned or smelted. They're happy that they got most of their things back, we get our cash and we get our hands on some pretty awesome and expensive stuff; it's a win-win situation, in which we win slightly more than they do."

By this point, my jaw had dropped slightly. I wasn't sure if it was because I was horrified or impressed. I regained my composure and pressed my lips into a thin line and finally asked, "So you're business class villains now. What's all this got to do with me? If you're so successful why do you need my help now? And what if I alert the authorities about these little heists?"

Brick slightly shifted in his seat – the first sign of agitation I noticed from him since I'd been here.

"Firstly, I don't care for your threats of telling anyone about this. And I can almost guarantee that if you snitch on us, you'll get arrested too. Like I mentioned, Citiesville doesn't like any of our kind too much. Secondly, we are still successful. However, the last few people and accounts we've dealt with didn't go over so well. My moronic brother got caught on camera flying around the perimeter of the house only a few minutes before the burglary took place," he said. I knew that when he said 'moronic' he was referring to Butch, because 'idiotic' seemed to be reserved for Boomer. He would probably use 'dumb asses' to refer to them both. I scoffed as if to say "That's what you get," and I knew Brick interpreted this from the way he narrowed his eyes at me. It was a warning; one I personally did not give a shit about. He begrudgingly carried on when it became obvious to him that I wasn't going to soften my expression.

"We had to lay low for a few weeks. When we got back to business, the next few houses we hit happened to be where we found the dartboards and the pictures that Butch showed you." He slid a manila folder over the desk towards me. I flipped it open without being prompted to do so and leafed through the pages. There were photocopies of the pictures Butch had shown me last night attached to bird's-eye-view pictures of the houses that each picture was found in. There were also more dartboard pictures with a bunch of unfamiliar faces. Besides my own and the Rowdyruffs, I only recognized one other face and that was the woman that had greeted me in the lobby. None of the houses stood out to me either – all of them seemed to located in the sectioned-off wealthy area on the outskirts of Citiesville, a place I am not, nor will I ever be welcomed.

"So you think there's a connection between you guys getting rightfully busted and these dartboard guys targeting you? It would make a hell of a lot of sense, to be honest," I said haughtily.

He grunted. "That's what I thought initially. That's until I found the pictures of you and every other super powered person I know on the dartboards too. That's one of the main reasons I called you in. Most of the other supes I know work for me so I thought maybe they were targeting my business until we found your picture. The real question is, have you done anything to piss someone in Citiesville off recently?"

I wanted to say no, but that would've been a lie. I piss people off every day just by existing and because I'm goaded to by their ignorance. But I also didn't want to say yes and liken myself to him in any way either. So I just shrugged.

"Figures," he replied to my shrug. "Once a Powderpuff, always a damn Powderpuff. Never knowing when to mind their own damn business and thinking everything they do is right. Pissing the world off one destroyed city at a time."

"Get to the fucking point," I said heatedly. I was pretty sure he could feel my rage pouring off of me in his direction, but he didn't react.

He straightened fully in his chair and scrutinized me for a moment before saying, "The point is, even though I really hate to have a self-righteous puff on my team, I'm offering you a job. We need an inside view of the situation from you specifically because you're the only one we know that's unconnected to everyone else aside from you having super powers. This isn't a 9 to 5 kind of job either. You'll get calls when I need you to do a job, and they won't always be the same types of job. You won't have to do the stealing, Butch will take care of that. But you will have to participate in backup combat practice. As for your payment, you'll get 5% of the pay from every job you work with a commission of an additional 5% of any new, relevant information you discover. Mind you, these rich idiots pay more than you would ever expect them to. Most importantly, you snitch, you die. It's as simple as that. Do we have a deal?"

My head was reeling from all this information, but I was still able to pick out the important parts and string them together in my mind. Money. Crime. Action.

Two out of three of them sounded more appealing to me than I ever thought they would. But the line had to be drawn somewhere, no matter how broke, jobless, and action-deprived you actually were.

I took a deep breath and replied.

Blossom

Many people often failed to realize that being a leader comes with as many setbacks as it does perks. Blossom knew this all too well. First and foremost, there was the responsibility of taking care of your team members.

Though she hadn't utterly failed at this, she didn't feel as if she'd successfully completed this task either.

Buttercup's stubbornness had finally outdone her own insistence, resulting in the famous trio losing a valued sister and having to cope with fighting crime as the famous duo – Blossom and Bubbles. What she had failed to do with Buttercup, she made up for by being doubly responsible for and protective of Bubbles. As a leader, it was her responsibility to give up her dream of attending an Ivy League college, all of which she had applied and been accepted to, to stay in Townsville with Bubbles and help her fight crime.

Although she couldn't often communicate with Buttercup interpersonally, she did check in on her every once in a while during her bi-weekly visits to Citiesville's City Hall to discuss an internship with the mayor of the town. An internship she had applied for simply for the sake of keeping her eyes on Buttercup.

It was not that Buttercup wasn't capable of taking care of herself, or even that she couldn't manage to fight her own battles, but rather it was that Buttercup's impulsiveness and ability to be easily manipulated has, could, and would get her in a heap of trouble. Especially since Blossom could no longer hold her back, since the 'toughest fighter' of the Powerpuff trio had separated herself from the family home.

Every other week, before stopping at Citiesville's City Hall, she would fly past all of the places Buttercup frequented; the Gym, the Bar, the Piercing Parlor she worked at, and her unnecessarily grungy apartment. Personally, Blossom wasn't too fond of her lifestyle, choice of friends, or job, but she promised herself that she wouldn't intervene unless Buttercup was putting herself danger. So far, she had done well. But if she knew anything about her sister, it was that she was like a time bomb. It would only be a matter of time before she self-destructed. She could only hope that years of fighting alongside herself, the team leader, had taught Buttercup to look before leaping every now and then. Especially in a place like this.

In her spare minutes before she had to be at City Hall, she had done her routine check as she always did. When her search turned up empty after her second round however, Blossom felt the pit of her stomach hollow out and fill with apprehension. Since moving out here, Buttercup was to be always found at one of the places she checked. She checked every other bar, pub, gym, and place that Buttercup would seem most likely to go, and still her search came up empty.

Maybe she got sidetracked.

Perhaps she finally decided to go back to Townsville for a day visit.

She might have decided to take a day off and relax at the park.

Or maybe a bad decision led her to being powerless, bound, and gagged in the trunk of someone's car.

The second most important thing about being leader was to always be logical and certain of every situation.

Blossom whipped out her cellphone and dialed in Buttercup's number. Because of many occasions during which she had planned, dialed, then decided against calling her sister, dialing the 10 digits was as easy as breathing ice to her.

"Excuse me?"

"No," I repeated, this time more forcefully. "I appreciate the offer and all of the information, and I even appreciate the fact that we could have this little discussion without killing each other, but there's no way in hell I'd ever work for you jackasses."

Brick's jaw tensed and he drummed his fingers on his desk, staring intently at me. I wasn't intimidated as he probably hoped I would be, but I wasn't exactly comfortable either. His offer was amazing, to be completely honest. Not only would I have a well-paying job, I would also be somewhat back in the fighting business. And I'd have the chance to prove my own worth, not by just being a Powerpuff girl and saving ungrateful assholes like before, but by being a woman that could solve cases and whatnot while being stalked and targeted! Technically, I'd be like fucking Batman!

Only this time, I'd be working for the other side. The side without the rainbows and candy and praise of the townspeople. The side that encouraged me to act on my immoral impulses. The side that stole and conned the wealthy – even though they probably deserved to be conned and stolen from. It's not that I could even currently consider myself a great superhero (really, I wasn't doing such a stellar job at that), but my Blossom-installed morals simply would not allow me to team up with an enemy, no matter what.

Finally, Brick cocked an eyebrow at me and dropped his gaze to mine, folding his hands before him on the desk. "So what you're telling me is, instead of working with a private corporation that allows you access to the finest technology and luxuries you'd probably ever get to lay your hands on, all while making decent money, you'd rather do vigilante work in that dank ass apartment of yours, which will most likely get you killed?"

I knew his argument made sense, but I didn't want it to. So I used my selective hearing to avoid his question. "Wait… how the hell do you know where I live?! You fuckers have been stalking me, haven't you?!" I yelled.

Brick scoffed and said, "You're not the most low profile person around here, in case you haven't noticed." He shook his head and grimaced. "I don't even know why I asked. Working with someone like you would be impossible. You're still that same bitch with the daddy issues. You're still the same fucking Buttercup."

I felt my muscles flex like I was a wild cat ready to pounce and go in for the kill. Instead of attacking though, I went still. I didn't twitch, budge, or even breathe.

He was right. Brick was fucking right.

All this time I had spent trying to become my own woman hadn't done shit for me. I was still the same Buttercup. I still abided by the same basic rules that had been set up for me my whole life; the rules that constrained me and eventually forced me to leave Townsville. The rules I used to always break as a teenager, but the same rules I used to govern my daily life as an adult.

I was still being old Buttercup that expected someone to always hold her back. The only thing that was different was that I was the one holding myself back.

It was time to let old Buttercup go and take a risk.

I leaned in, folding my hands in my lap, mocking Brick's movements. I knew he noticed the instant reconfiguration of my mind because I could see the glimmer of surprise in his eyes. I smirked and said, "Fuck it. If you've got something sweeter than money to offer, then you've got yourself a deal."

Brick looked impressed and irritated at the same time. Probably he hadn't been expecting a proposition. He sat in thought for a few moments before finally grinning.

"I'll let you get three free hits on Butch. No counterattacks, no fighting back, and you can cause as much damage as you want," he said.

I grinned. "When do I start?"

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P.S: If it get the feedback I'm hoping for, I'll give you guys an extra special greens scene in the next chapter.