Disclaimer: I do not own any content from the Powerpuff Girls. Original characters, however, are mine so I recommend not using them against my permission. All rights to Craig McCracken and whoever else might matter in the grand scheme of things.

IMPORTANT NOTE: I had to reupload this chapter because someone caught the inconsistency at the end concerning BC's cellphone (thank you for that - I told you guys college is ruining my brain function). I meant to delete that part but completely forgot. Ending the story as it is now makes it much easier for me to jump into the start of rising action. Please reread if you must. Nothing has change other than me omitting Buttercup's part at the end!

Author's Note: Has it been a while or WHAT? The amount of time it's taken me to finish and publish this chapter is ridiculous and I completely understand if you forgot or even no longer care to read. But so much has happened in the last year and a half that I think gives me multiple excuses to work with. That includes school, family, working and so on. Also, I'm working on an actual book so my time writing has been divided and conquered. I'm sorry, but things are hectic and I'm so scatterbrained that my attention is never kept for too long. Especially this semester… 18 credits… possible study abroad… I'll be teaching next semester. Things are looking great and yet, so hopelessly chaotic. But enough about that. Again, let's just all accept that fact that I am a major procrastinator and life is too unpredictable for promises. I would like to propose something, however, but I'll wait until you're done reading this chapter to ask.

As always thank you for the reviews! I got some really inspiring ones this time around that just made me grin ear to ear! Some lovely (unearned) comparisons to other authors I love and admire! You guys are extremely motivating! Now if only I could find the motivation to stop putting stuff off… I'm glad you guys are enjoying and I hope you enjoy and review this next chapter even more!

Authors need feedback to keep giving you guys the good stuff. Who knows, more feedback might equal less time between chapters~

It was a windowless room. Only a door, an armoire, and a desk stood between me and a potential attacker. Literally. Once I had recovered from my little (stressing little) crisis, I'd pushed everything except the bed in front of the door, though I hardly suspected that it would stop a Rowdyruff on a rampage. At some point during the night, I'd realized that every piece of furniture was matte black. Probably easier to hide a crime scene that way. I was sure that if I shined a black light in here I'd be swimming in forensic evidence.

Whoever had lived in here before probably met a fate all too gruesome by way of fucking up. And though I had fucked up big time I didn't suspect that Brick would attempt to attack me, no matter how enraged he would be when he found out that I was here. No, in fact, I knew he wouldn't dare to because he knew I'd kill him or die trying. And that when my sisters found out, they'd kill him again. But I'd be damned if I didn't prepare myself for a sneak attack in the dead of the night.

It was that nagging possibility of a sneak attack that kept me from catching any semblance of sleep that night. After pacing the sole out of Harper's clunky heels, I'd changed out of her too-tight, too-short clothes and put on one of the few outfits I'd managed to scrounge from my ransacked apartment. A black tank-top, camo shorts, and black combat boots. The top and shorts weren't such a good call since it was cold as fucking anti-hell in the room. But the camo boots made for much easier pacing and waiting.

There were no clocks in the room, I didn't have a phone, and the lack of a window in here was really starting to irk me. With the gray paint on the walls and the flickering, yellow florescent light above my head I was starting to feel like I was in prison. Not a good vibe to have when working with enemies.

'What's my next move?' I'd asked myself that over and over again and all I could think was, 'Wait until Butch comes back... If Butch comes back.' It was a shit plan. Who the hell relies on someone like Butch?

Sighing, I pressed my forehead against the wall and almost gave into sleep-standing. As if on cue, my stomach let out an outrageous grumble reminding me that I hadn't eaten anything substantial in almost twenty four hours.

I did some half-assed calculations of how long I'd been pacing and figured it had to be at least an hour before sunrise give or take. It was early enough for anyone sane, even by Rowdyruff standards, to still be sleeping. I could make a run for the kitchen and be back in the room in no time.

I pushed the furniture that was in front of the door back out of the way, opened the door, and peered into the hallway. I couldn't hear anything, no ticking clocks, no snoring, and no shuffling, so I assumed it was safe to make my move. That or the floor was abandoned. Somehow the latter was more nerve-wracking.

Inhaling deeply, I stepped out into the hall and closed the door softly behind me until I heard it click. I'd be back in five minutes, tops.

I crept along the walls, stopping at doors to check for noise, more specifically, the hum of a refrigerator, then moved on. I'd watched enough horror movies to know that creeping on hardwood floors was pretty much the same as setting off canons in the middle of the night, so I floated the whole way down until I reached another conjoined hallway.

Looking left, I got a sense of dejavu, like I was going in circles. So, I turned right and kept going until I reached the only pair of double doors I had seen so far.

'Please, please, please, please, PLEASE, let this be a Kitchen.'

Holding my breath, I cracked the doors open, flinching when the hinges squealed. Before I even opened them enough for me to squeeze through, the overhead automatic lights flicked on and I gasped.

It was a kitchen, alright. One hell of a kitchen. It was three times the size of the bedroom I was staying in. Smooth granite countertops, chrome finished stovetops, and an industrial sized, double door refrigerator to boot. It looked barely used. Even the black and white marble floor looked barely scuffed as if no one had ever set foot in here a day in their life.

No matter how epic the kitchen was though, I remembered to take caution. I cracked the door open a little wider. My shoulders tensed in anticipation of alarm. When none came, I relaxed a little and took a tentative step inside.

No booby-traps yet.

Finally convinced that I was in the clear, I made my way over to the chrome beaut and stared up at it. It had to be at least twice my size, just barely fitting into the room despite the tall ceilings. I pulled both doors apart and was hit with a cool blast of air.

And that was about it.

On the shelves sat a jar of pickle juice (not a single fucking pickle in it), a half-gallon of what could have been milk a few months ago but was now black, fuzzy sludge, and a bitten apple.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said, trying not to gag. I closed the doors, then opened them again to make sure my hunger plagued body and fatigued mind wasn't playing tricks on me. They weren't. This big, beautiful, refrigerator was actually the most barren, pitiful excuse for a refrigerator I had ever seen. I groaned, and my stomach echoed me.

"Of course they don't stock the fucking fridge," I muttered, "Why buy groceries when you can steal a hot pizza."

"You were expecting something different?"

Gasping, I slammed the refrigerator doors shut and spun around. Butch stood in the kitchen doorway clad in only dark green sweatpants with a giant bag of chips in his hand.

"I see your reflexes and senses have gone to shit," he said, stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth. He swept a hand down his bare chest to wipe off crumbs. I made it a point to keep my eyes locked on his face.

"And I see your common sense is still as nonexistent as it's always been," I said. "Who wastes space on a big, perfect kitchen like this and doesn't store or make food in it? The heck is up with that?"

"You answered it yourself," he said, grinning. "This shit is just for show. We don't make, babe, we take."

"Do you know how dumb you actually sound?" I sneered.

He scoffed, pouring more chips in his mouth and tilting his head towards me. "Do you know how dumb you actually look? Flying around the place like you don't know Brick could be anywhere? Like there aren't fucking cameras everywhere? You trying to get us both killed or what, bitch? " he asked, his mouth full, chips crumbling out with every word. Disgusting.

I crossed my arms, leaned against the refrigerator, and narrowed my eyes. "Between being snatched from my fucking apartment while I was practically naked, being forced to go on a lame ass mission with you of all people, getting back to find my shit ransacked and stolen, then being brought to this hell hole with you fuckers, tell me how I'm supposed to keep up my energy to defend myself around you evil pieces of shit if I don't get some fucking food in my stomach? And to be quite honest, I don't give a fuck where Brick is or who's watching. Come to think of it, I'm in on this whole business deal anyway, ain't I? I should be able to go wherever the hell I choose! Who gives a shit about what Brick thinks? As a matter of fact, you, Boomer, and Brick can kiss my—"

Butch's eyes suddenly went wide and he clenched his jaw, the chips in his mouth crunching once like a punctuation. I almost grinned triumphantly at that until I saw that he wasn't looking at me.

I spun, following Butch's gaze, and was stunned to see Brick standing there, eyes fixed on me and his glare cold. He didn't even bother speaking. He just stood there, clad in nothing but red silky boxers, staring me down. 'Perhaps, my reflexes are going to shit.'

Fuck. Fuck, on so many levels.

"I, uh, I… How did you..." I stuttered. Brick held up a hand to stop me and shook his head, his long, rusty red hair swaying against his bare back and shoulders with the motion.

"Start over," Brick commanded as he crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes locked on mine. "Explain to me why the fuck you're here at five o'clock in the morning. Why you're rummaging through my fucking kitchen. And why you're making threats like I won't break you."

Unintimidated by his chilling tone, I matched his stance, staring defiantly back at him. "I think you heard me well enough," I hissed, "And I think it goes without saying that this – all of this bullshit going on right now – it's all Butch's fucking fault."

"W-what?! The fuck you mean it's my fault!?" Butch barked, indignant.

I spun back towards, Butch. "You snatched me from my damn apartment, you fucked us over on that mission by dicking around, and you fucking brought me here," I yelled, jabbing a finger at him.

"You fucking made me bring you here!"

"Had you let me get dressed and lock my damn door, maybe I would still have a fucking apartment!"

By now Butch was gritting his teeth together and I could tell that he was on the verge of tackling me and starting another brawl. My skin tingled and my heart raced at the thought. "And how is any of that my fucking fault, bitch?!" he spat.

I was itching for the chance to let off a little steam, so, against my better judgement, I goaded him a little further. "You dumb shit, I just told you it's because you –"

"ENOUGH." Butch and I turned back towards Brick whose voice echoed off the plain walls of the bare kitchen. "I asked for a damned explanation, not a fucking death match."

Butch and I shot glares at each other, then, with a respective grunt and sigh, let Brick in on the immense amount of bullshit that had occurred in the last 24 hours. By the end of our explanation Brick had had fist pressed to his temple and I could've swore I saw steam rising from his head. Good thing I left out the part about the dartboard. He might've erupted.

He took the seconds of silence to calm himself down. Every time he got ready to speak the muscles in his jaw would flex and his eyebrows would furrow a little deeper. I'd been wondering since our first reencounter where the Brick I used to scrap with, the Brick who would snap at the drop of a dime, had gone. Seems since becoming a boss, he managed to get that side of himself on a leash. A raggedy leash that threatened to snap from force at any second, but a leash all the same.

"Well," Brick finally said, exhaling deeply, "I'd tell you to go the fuck home, but being that your nosy bitch of a sister would no doubt smell your association with me on your clothes and come searching like a blood hound, it seems you have no choice but to stay for now."

I bit back a bitter retort, not wanting any of them to know about my stringent relationship with the Professor and my sister. That last thing I needed was to give them was more personal fodder. Instead I asked, "Why not just put me out on the street, hm? Hospitality doesn't seem like you."

"Don't' fucking push it," Brick said, narrowing his eyes. "And don't think I haven't considered it. The problem with that is that you know too much already. If I put you out on the streets, there's no guaranteeing that you won't run your mouth to the enemy by accident. Or intentionally, for that matter."

He had a point.

"Told you working with a Puff was a bad idea," Butch suddenly blurted out. "Even if it is with the butchest, bitterest one. She's been working with us officially for – what? A day? – and shit's already getting fucked up. I say—"

"Say one more fucking thing, Butch, and see if I don't put her in your room."

I almost smirked seeing Butch visibly wince at that. But then I thought about my own suffering and inwardly winced myself.

"What the hell is with all the yelling, man? I just got back to sleep! And put what in who's room?" said a groggy and confused Boomer who, clad in only blue striped boxer briefs, walked into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. When he focused his gazed on me, his heavily lidded eyes shot open and he froze.

"Um, what the hell is she doing here? At five in the morning? Is this… is this some kind of threesome or…?"

Before I had the chance to slam my fist into his face, Brick had slammed his fist so hard into the back of Boomer's head I could've sworn that I heard his skull crack.

"Say something like that again and see if you don't eat dog food for a week… again," Brick hissed.

Boomer, rubbing furiously at the spot Brick had assaulted, cried out, "Well, shit man! How was I supposed to know? You didn't have to hit me that hard!" Ignoring the death glare from Brick and the sneering smirk from Butch, he continued, "And if she isn't standing in the kitchen with you guys while you're both half naked for… that… then what is she here for? Does this have something to do with—"

Again, Brick hit him. This time in his mouth. I tensed and narrowed my eyes, suddenly aware that I was surrounded by three barely-clothed Rowdyruff boys and simultaneously alarmed at Boomer's interrupted sentence. 'Something to do with what?'

"Learn when to talk, Boomer. Now's not the fucking time," Brick spat. Butch sniggered until Brick shot him a look that made him go pale. Shit. I needed to master that look.

But more than that, I needed to know what was going on. Suspicious and unnerved by the bare-chested boneheads, I open my mouth to question Brick but was cut off by him.

"Now that were all here, let's establish some ground rules."

Boomer and Butch glanced at each other then back to Brick, all traces of annoyance and amusement wiped from their faces. I figured that was the cue for business-talk time, so I followed suit.

Brick turned to me and said, "As of now, Buttercup, you'll will be staying in HQ. You will be under constant surveillance. If I catch you snooping through anything I list as off limits, if you break any of my shit, if you speak a word of our operation to anyone uninvolved, this won't end well for you. Got it?"

I scoffed, but nodded, sensing, by the thick tension in the air, that now was not the fucking time.

"Good," he said. "Butch. Boomer. Do nothing and say nothing unless I've cleared it. The say nothing part goes especially for you, Boomer. Shit. Why do I even tell you things? As for you Butch, from what I understand she has two more free hits on you."

Butch threw his hands in the air, managing to scream out, "What the f—" before Brick shot him another one of those masterful looks and he shut up.

"The deal still stands. Don't give her a reason to use them and you'll be fine. But once she uses those up," and he glanced back at me when he said this, "then you have permission to go at it. If this can keep you two from fucking dismantling one another until the operation is complete, then so be it. Is everyone clear?"

"Yes, boss," Boomer and Butch said in unison. Brick grunted at their acknowledgement, then looked at me.

I grunted, sneering at him and twitching my head in a small nod. "I guess."

"Unacceptable. I need clear affirmation. And you'll address me as boss."

I snorted. Like hell I was going to do that. "Fuck. Off." I spat.

Behind Brick I saw Boomer's eyes widen as he shook his head vigorously before I was overshadowed by the red eyed leader.

"Let's get one thing straight, Utonium. You work for me for now. I will not tolerate insubordination at any level. You follow my rules or there'll be hell to pay for you and your fucking family. Do. You. Understand?"

See, here's the thing. Even if you're as prideful a person as I am (and I used to be worse, believe it or not), when you're standing in the kitchen with three bare-chested Rowdyruffs exuding all types of toxic testosterone, and you're about to start living in a building that was crawling with super powered villains, and the leader of said villains threatens you and your dysfunctional-but-you-still-care-for-them family, you adapt pretty quick, no matter how much you hate yourself for doing it. "Yes, boss," I hissed through clenched teeth.

The words tasted like poison.

Brick's lip twitched in what could almost be mistaken for a smirk if it lasted longer. "Good. Welcome aboard." He turned around and started walking towards Boomer and kitchen's the other entrance (that I wish I would have noticed earlier), opposite the one I had entered through, then he paused.

"Oh, and before I forget," he said, looking back at me, "if you feel so strongly about my empty kitchen, why don't you buy some groceries and make some shit. And that's not a suggestion, that's an order."

Butch, fully recovered from business mode, did a spit take… without water. "Her? Cooking? In our Kitchen? This I GOTTA see!"

"Glad you're so hyped for it, Butch," Brick added. He completely turned towards us and this time there was a full smirk on his face. "Because your next mission is to accompany her to the supermarket. Make sure she gets what we like."

"You're not serious right?" Butch's eye twitched. "You can't be fucking serious."

"Oh, I am one hundred percent serious."

"Make Boomer do it! You know I'm your snatch and steal guy! I'm not no domestic dumb ass like him!"

"Hey!" Boomer said.

"Boomer already has a mission."

Butch open his mouth to speak.

"And, no, you can't switch with him. Say another word and I'll give her another free hit," Brick said.

Butch clamped his mouth shut.

In the midst of the chaos I hadn't even tried to get a word in. Too much was happening at once and, to be honest, I didn't mind food shopping if it meant I could finally eat. I already knew there was no debating this, but there was one thing I needed to know.

I cleared my throat and they all turned towards me. "So, um, who exactly is paying for these groceries?"

They all looked at each other. Then, they burst out into holler-laughter. Welp, now I had my answer.

"You really don't get how this works do you?" Brick said. "We don't make, we take."

"Enough with the corny one-liner, please," I pleaded.

Wiping tears from his eyes, Boomer let his last bits of laughter die down then said, "We have a system here, toots (Did he just fucking call me toots?). And if you break the system, you buy the groceries… or TVs… or clothes… or–"

"OKAY. I get it! First, don't ever call me toots again. Second, I'm not buying or stealing shit for you pricks. Either your bulldog does the dirty work or I'm walking."

I expected an argument, but Boomer and Brick just looked at Butch, and he shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Well, that settles that." Brick said. Honestly, why did I expect anything else? "Anything else we need to settle here?"

No one said a word.

"Good. Now I'm going back to bed and I swear if there's any more shit from any of you in the next twenty four hours, I'll start taking it personally. Boomer, remember your schedule. Butch, think before you speak."

Boomer nodded at Brick, shot me an oddly familiar grin, and then left with Brick.

Once the door swung shut behind them, it was just me and the asshole. He shook his empty bag of chips at me and smirked. "Want the crumbs?"

Bubbles

There were five more minutes of Psychology 101. Bubbles had never been much of a note-taker, but over the years she had developed quite the knack for filling up pages upon pages in her notebook with doodles of ice cream, cookies, kittens, and the like. She'd managed to fill up her fifth page just in time for Professor Mooch to change the slide on the projector.

She turned her page over and poised her pencil to draw another set of hearts in the margins when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Knowing that it was her friend Lianne, she simply raised her eyebrow in question.

"Did you see him?" Lianne whispered urgently.

"Who?" Bubbles asked, erasing the awkwardly puckered lips from her heart drawing.

"The cute new guy!"

At this, Bubbles lifted her pencil from the page and finally looked over to Lianne. "New guy? We're halfway through the semester, how is there a new guy?"

Lianne shrugged, her grin only stretching wider. "I don't know, and I don't care. All I want to know is how I can get his number."

Lianne had a boyfriend to whom she claimed to be utterly, unfathomably, loyal. If she was trying to get this guy's number, he must've been extremely cute. Drop-dead gorgeous, even.

"Where is he? And don't be obvious like last time!" Bubbles whispered.

Lianne placed her pencil between her fingers like a cigarette, pointed it left over Bubbles' shoulder, and said, "At the opposite side, in the row below ours."

The lecture hall was humongous. Among the three hundred filled seats, Bubbles sat right next to the middle aisle near the back of the room. She could get to the art studio faster that way. Also, she had a good scope of the room. She knew the back of everyone's head and side profiles too. She could tell them apart by the sound of their voices, and, in most students' cases, the sound of their snores. So when Lianne pointed out the boy who she assumed had simply gone unnoticed before, she knew Lianne had been right.

He was new to the lecture hall. And he was killer cute.

Granted she could only see the back of his head and part of his face, his blond locks that curled just past his strong jawline and his long, fair eyelashes that fluttered over his subtle cheekbones as he napped were enough to go by.

Even his soft snoring was cute.

Bubbles gave the boy one last once over, noticing his blue t-shirt and fresh stubble at his chin (dying a little of joy inside), then turned back to Lianne with widened eyes and a coy smirk.

"Sorry, Lianne. But this one's mine."

Lianne opened her lips to retort, then closed it, pouted and sighed. "I guess you do deserve this one. You know, considering Mark was such an ass to you. And I guess Joe wouldn't appreciate me calling dibs on another guy after we just reached third base."

Bubbles had only been joking, well half-joking anyways. But when Lianne shot down the opportunity, something bloomed in her chest. Hope? Desire? Ambition?

"You mean it, LiLi?" she asked, leaning into her sandy-haired friend whose 'third base' comment hadn't gone unnoted. She'd pester her about that later.

Lianne, nodded. "Go for it, Bubs."

"Yes!" Bubbles hissed, shooting her fist into the air.

"Go for it, Miss Utonium."

Bubbles gasped and looked up to Professor Mooch who was now standing alarmingly close to her seat. Why did he love walking up and down the aisles so much? She responded with a dumbfounded, "Huh?"

"Is the science of positive psychology descriptive or prescriptive? You raised your hand, you said 'yes,' so I'm assuming you know the answer," he said, his voice monotone and unamused.

"Um... it's… descriptive because... we're not telling people which choices they should make… but merely informing them about what is known about the consequences of their choices…?" she answered, piecing together what little she managed to overhear with the picture of a cute little brain holding a caution sign she had drawn earlier.

Professor Mooch mumbled a disgruntled, 'correct,' and walked back to the front of the lecture hall, dismissing class and scratching his graying hair on his way down.

Bubbles grinned at Lianne, shoving her notebook and pencil into her bag. Lianne shot her an all-encompassing wink, and Bubbles was off to the art studio.

She'd be on the search for mister cute face later.

Bubbles

Bubbles found herself at the easel nearest the window in the art studio. Just outside of the window was a circle of trees with a grand tree in the middle, towering above the more recently planted trees. All of the smaller trees had already lost every last one of their leaves in preparation for winter, the campus groundskeeper raking away the evidence that they had ever been alive the moment their leaves fell. But the grand tree was still lit with leaves the colors of pumpkins, red delicious apples, and fields of maize. It had been her intention to capture the tree at this perfect moment with vivid acrylics and small tipped brushes.

And she had. Except, without realizing it, she'd made her own addition.

Resting with his back against the grand tree in her picture, his knees drawn to his chest and his chin resting on them, his blond hair covering his face to reveal only what she had seen of it, was the boy Lianne had spotted in her Psych class.

When Bubbles realized what she'd done, she was shocked, but not necessarily in a bad way. Guys never had this effect on her. Though she wore her heart on her sleeve and loved wholeheartedly, after having her heart broken by one too many boys in freshman year, she was cautious when approaching college boys now. Especially the cute ones. She'd watch them for a while, get their numbers, talk them up, and depending on how well that went, then she'd try and get a relationship going.

But something was different about this boy. Even with what little she had observed of him, she felt a strange pull… a connection to him. Something was oddly familiar about him and the word 'soulmate' had started frolicking around in her mind since seeing him. This could be what all the main characters in her favorite romance novels were talking about. That something that was off, that tug of the heart, could lead to so much more.

Bubbles smiled at her painting, at the boy under the tree. Maybe.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the art studio door being slammed open.

There was a pause in chatter and, as Bubbles' super hearing picked up, breathing, and she thought to herself that she'd never heard the studio so silent before. From where Bubbles was sitting she could just barely see over her own easel, let alone anyone else's. But the blue shirt and the cute mop of blond hair gave it away instantly.

It was him.

Bubbles bit her lip and waited in silence with the rest of the class. She thought to stand up and pretend to fix the hem of her skirt just to catch a full glimpse of his profile finally, but the air in the room was so tense she could barely stand to fidget in her seat.

"Okay, so…" he started, his voice strung with innocent confusion. She could just imagine his cute, puzzled expression! "I'm guessing this isn't the chemistry lab?

The studio assistant stood up from his desk at the front and shook his head slowly. "No. Not the chemistry lab. That's down the hall."

"I know somewhere else he can find some chemistry," the usually meek girl next to her murmured. Bubbles' breath hitched in her throat, a thrum of urgency running through her.

The boy (luckily) didn't catch any of the flirty remarks floating around the room, simply said, "Oh, okay. Thanks," and left.

Bubbles waited a few seconds, trying to focus on her canvas again. Except the boy she had unwittingly drawn sitting under the tree in her painting was all she could focus on. The same boy who had just walked back out the door.

'Aw to heck with it,' she thought, dropping her paintbrush and running to the door.

"I'll be back, Kit," she said to the student assistant at the front. Without giving him time to respond she bolted out the door and into the hallway. She looked in the direction of the chemistry lab and saw him walking down the hallway, his arms behind his head.

'This is it Bubs. This is your time to shine.'

She cleared her throat, plastered her brightest, flirtiest grin on her face, and stated walking towards him. Just as she was about to call out, another girl coming from the opposite direction stopped to talk to him. Bubbles felt her heart stutter.

She veered off to the side and put her back against the wall. Had she been too late? Was the other girl flirting? Would he fall for her? Bubble's flirty grin had melted into a pout. She knew she could be jumping the gun, but honesty, who wouldn't fall for a cutie like that. And from what she had seen, the other girl was pretty cute, too. 'And he looked so promising,' she thought.

Sighing, she peeled herself from the wall and was about to turn back towards the Art Studio when she heard the girl call out, "Okay! See you in class, then!"

"You, too, I guess," he replied. He sounded uninterested, but Bubbles could tell by the shift in his voice that he had turned around to (probably) watch her leave. The girl walked by her with a love-struck look on her face, completely oblivious to Bubbles' presence.

'Now's my chance,' she thought, ignoring the small twinge of jealousy that had tugged at her. Reestablishing her winning smile on her face she peeled away from the wall and stepped back into the hallway. He was still turned around, his hand in the air as if he was still waving goodbye at the girl. Finally, she took a look at his face.

And all the air was knocked out of her. His eyes widened when he noticed her. Her eyes widened when she recognized him.

Bubbles took a tentative step back, her fight or flight sense kicking into overdrive and sending her mind into a frenzy. His brothers could be anywhere. He could be a diversion. There was no way he was here right now unless something bad was happening or about to happen. She needed to find Blossom. She needed to call Buttercup!

Things began to move in slow motion. Bubbles could feel the muscles in her legs tighten, noticing that Boomer had inhaled sharply. He was going to say something. Would he call for backup? Would he signal something to one of his brothers in waiting? She couldn't take the chance, especially since she was by herself. So when he opened his mouth to speak, she bolted past him, knocking him down. She pushed through the exit behind him and took to the skies at full speed. She noticed that he hadn't followed her out, but still everything in her was on alert.

She could not believe that the new hottie she was fawning over had been Boomer. Of all luck.

Now was not the time to worry about that, though. Now, she had to alert her sisters. Still flying as fast as she could away from the city in case of pursuit, Bubble whipped out her phone and pressed speed dial.

So yeah, here it is! Please be sure to leave a review! And at the end of it, I need your input on this proposition.

Would you like to keep getting longer chapters like this, or shorter chapters that would (most likely) be updated more quickly?

Leave an answer at the bottom of the review and I'll consider the outcome for next chapter! I don't know how long I want this to go so I need you guys to help me gauge it. Thanks again for reading and I hope you enjoyed. If we're lucky, maybe I'll get in a chapter before the end of 2016~

Maybe.