A/N: Thank to the one who is referred to as Freak. I would have private messaged you, but you were using a guest profile. Oh well. I really appreciated your review, and hope that the rest of the story is at least equal, if not better, than that first chapter.

Two steps forward, three steps back

Without warning, heart attack

He fell asleep in the snow

Never woke up, died alone.

"I don't wanna be me" by Type O Negative

ThePowerpuffGirlsin:

Fierce Cup O Reality

ChaptertheSecond,

Chit-Chat

It was not long after exiting DirtierDancing, immediately after in fact, that Bubbles found herself confronting a most peculiar looking fellow. So peculiar did this man look that upon first glimpsing him she thought, "My my my, what a peculiar looking fellow." and indeed, this adjective was the most appropriate that could be used in describing this person. He wore a stunning, yet altogether outdated cape, that trailed down to his ankles, while the top part tapered out a bit from the neck. It seemed to be made from the darkest matter, so much so that it clashed with the pitch black night surrounding the two. The shadows, being what they were, hid the rest of the man's appearance, but still, the cape silently spoke of its own horror, the likes of which could not be replicated by any mere mortal, or even one of the lesser known fallen angels that fill up the bible in the same way preteens fill up coffee shops. "No! Azazel could not have conceived this manner of debauchery! Only the great betrayer, ol' Morningstar, himself could have flayed all of those nuns!" That was the sort of feeling rolling off the man's cape like skin off a nun.

Now, normally, most strippers are escorted to their cars or whatnot by means of the bouncers who work at the same club. Bubbles, however, never showed any signs of needing protection despite the fact that she was accosted on more than one occasion by many of her more obsessive fans. Most of the time they just vainly tried to get her to date with them, or sometimes they just wanted to bathe her in unending praise (which in most cases is more uncomfortable than being asked on a date). There was only one instance when a slightly more determined and much more demented fan tried to kidnap Bubbles. He brought ropes and chloroform and everything else one needs to kidnap a person of interest. He did seem to forget, perhaps due to his unscrupulous monomania or perhaps due to his overconfidence, that Bubbles wielded incredible super powers. So he was more than a little surprised when, after jumping on Bubbles' back and applying the knockout drug, he was easily thrown to the ground, and methodically, she (Bubbles) began dislocating all of his . . . everything. These more historic counts of back-alley encounters in no way factor into the telling of this more recent one.

The man began to speak, "There are not many who dare to tread upon the night's domain." as he spoke, Bubbles heard a familiar, yet altogether foreign quality in his voice, like he was just manifesting this unique accent the same moment the words purred forth from his gaping voice hole. It was almost as if his voice was supposed to sound normal, but through ineffectual effort, the person warped it so that it sounded something like how an overconfident old man sounds when hitting on a much younger woman.

Bubbles looked around to see if there was anyone else to whom this man could be speaking, "Are you talking to me?"

"All manner of creatures fear the night. It's chilling darkness can hide so many unseen secrets." he took a few steps closer as he spoke, yet he was still to far away for Bubbles to see through the shadows and adequately describe his features.

"The fact that they can't be seen is what makes them secrets, I guess." said Bubbles, playing along. She did so because there were so many harmless crazy people roaming the streets, and Bubbles did not want to have to "accidentally" put one of them in the hospital . . . again.

"But you fear not the dark. You are a child of the moon! A walker of the midnight dance!"

"Hey!" yelled the former hero suddenly in the most irate manner her mellifluously delicate voice could muster, "It may surprise you, but not all strippers are prostitutes, just most of them! And before you get your hopes up, I'm not one of them!"

Evident from his voice, which was now cracked with a rushing panic caused by his own unpreparedness, the man was obviously not expecting this reaction, and so he quickly tried to reconcile the menacing powerhouse before him, "No," Stuttered he, "when I said 'walker of the midnight dance' I didn't mean street walker! I meant Child of the night! One who serves a darker god than that which is worshiped by the common cattle before her!"

"Oh, that's fine then," the girl paused to check if what she had just said was truthfully true, and after a moments deliberation, she deemed that it was.

"I too, am a child of darkness. A predator of the night, who is privy to all of the secrets that are kept hidden from the sunlit world."

"That's nice."

"And I see that you are much like me, a being who shuns that harsh, condemning world of the light."

Meanwhile, Bubbles checked all her pockets to make sure she had not forgotten anything. After ascertaining that everything needed was in their proper pocketed place she said, "Well actually, it may be strange to hear considering all the late hours my job makes me keep, but I'm really more of a day person," that said, Bubbles began to float off, "It was nice chatting with you." She waved.

"Wait!" Bubbles stopped, "You haven't even hear my offer. The one that could forever . . . change your life!"

Bubbles resumed her motion, "No thanks, I'm really not interested."

"I have a mansion! If you come back with me I could show you around, offer you a bite and a drink! I could walk you down the path of true darkness! Show you all of the wonders secretly held within the night, and my paintings of old villages set ablaze! Doesn't that sound intriguing?"

By this point, Bubbles had flown far enough away that she had to shout slightly, though unenthusiastically, so her voice could be heard, "No." she then flew straight home.

Being left alone now, the man childishly kicked the ground with his foot like a first grader who had just been rejected by his very first crush, after which he slunked back off towards his dark home.

Bubbles, upon arriving home, went through the same ablutions she always did before laying herself to sleep. She showered so as to remove all of the man stink that inevitably stuck to her skin, and attempted to rid herself of most of the glitter that was sprinkled onto her body (for reasons that are ineffable to all but beings greater than man, glitter cannot be cleared from from the epidermis in a single bathing no matter how hard the soap or loofah is scrubbed against it). She brushed her teeth, then combed her hair. That done, she grabbed her stuffed octopus, whose hat and cane had fallen off due to years of snuggling abuse, and almost instantly she fell asleep (the instant before was filled with a three second period in which a yawn took place). For a moment the sleep was peaceful, but then, slowly, for these sorts of things always happen with the subtle steps of a ballet, the fabric of her mind started to fold over itself, creating an effect like the rippling of water across the tide of her brain. As these undulations began curling over themselves more and more, an intense and sudden creationism of the id took place. Then suddenly, as though it had been that way all along, Bubbles found herself standing juxtapose with her father.

"Dad?" The Professor didn't speak, instead he silently raised his arm heavenwards and pointed a finger. Bubbles followed it up to the sky, "What?" her father remained silent, but he insistently pointed, "What am I looking for?" The Professor's face began to crush itself into an angry scowl as he started to harshly jab his arm up and down, "I don't know what your trying to tell me? !" He gave up and let his arm fall to the side, as he did so huge chunks of the surrounding city were blown away by some unseen force, what wasn't obliterated was set ablaze ,creating a hellish inferno for whoever survived. The professor turned round and looked at the destruction and misery, then he looked back at his daughter. Bubbles would be able to recall every detail of that empty visage for years to come. How disappointed he seemed, like the thing that meant most to him, the thing he loved above all else, had just betrayed him in the most awful of ways. And what made that image stay with Bubbles as long as it had was the fact that she knew what the Professor cared for most, and that was herself and her sisters.

The Professor shrugged his shoulders then started to walk towards Townsville, "Dad, Wait!" cried the women who now felt more like a girl than ever before. Yet, as quickly as the devastation had come it was not near as fast as the familiar incomplete rainbow that began to race towards the city. Of course it was the Powerpuff girls! Only they were younger, no older than five or six. They flew into Townsville, undaunted by the blazing chaos before them, and began saving lives. Soon the fires were out and the day was saved! Then Bubbles woke up.

_,_,_,_

The clock said 8:33, while the sun said, "LIGHT!" and that is exactly what was hitting Bubbles square in the brain-pan. She sluggishly arose, letting all of the fabric around her to slide off like nectar off a honeycomb, then she began to get dressed.

The reason for such a sweet metaphorical reference to a description as unimportant as the one just given is to remind folks that every action taken by Bubbles, no matter how mundane or spontaneous, was a gesture seeped in joy, unless acted upon by some nefarious outside force. Even while fighting crime, or taking out monsters, she kept a jovial air about. And even though times were tough, Bubbles always kept a smile nearby.

Awake and ready, Bubbles dressed herself in a very casual outfit, this being her day off from her erotic occupation, and merrily made her way down the steps, heading towards the kitchen for breakfast. Her quest for food was interrupted halfway, though, for upon reaching the nadir of the steps and entering the living room which bridged stairs to kitchen, Bubbles found herself starting at her sister, Buttercup, who was sitting on the couch blanketed with the wrappers and contents of many a potato chip bag. Why every bag of the salty treat was open, yet none empty, Bubbles could not say. Buttercup looked as though she was watching television, but looks could be deceiving. For the green Powerpuff's eyes wandered about in the most unfocused of ways. They would settle in on a spot somewhere in front of her, stay put for a moment, as though a great unseen mystery had momentarily captured her attention, then, slowly, her eyes would drift again to look at something new. She had even looked over Bubbles a few times in this manner before registering that there was indeed another presence in the room.

"Hey," said Buttercup with a lazy voice after she had finally noticed her sister. Then she took a bite from her delicious blanket.

"How long have you been sitting there?" Questioned the blue Puff.

"I don't know. What time is it?"

"Almost nine o'clock."

"Oh," Buttercup looked at her hands as if she needed their assistance with counting, "I guess I've been here about . . . six hours." she then occupied her hands by filling them with more chips.

"Aren't you tired?"

Buttercup nodded her head, "Yeah."

"Don't you think you should go to bed then?" offered Bubbles.

Buttercup repeated the motions she had just gone through, and even concluded it by saying, "Yeah," again, but she did not move from her spot on the couch. Bubbles continued onward, soon making it to the refrigerator where she began pulling out all of the necessary ingredients to make crepes, a dish that is as delightful to eat as it is easy to make. She began frying up the thin pastry when, after a few brief moments of solitude, Bubbles was joined by her sister, who walked with slow thundering steps that seemed tired but carefully thought out, almost as if walking was no longer a subconscious function for her. It was here that Bubbles was able to look well on her sister. She noticed that Buttercup's outfit was made up of the same clothes she had worn the day before, except it was in a much less presentable condition. Her face seemed a bit swollen, especially around the eyes, and those very same eyes were sanguine in color, due to the inflamed number of veins running through them. All of this could be attributed to her simply staying up the entire length of the night, but it was the fact that Buttercup's pupils, those black caves amongst a emerald mountain, were still dilated, despite the bright power being pushed out by the sixty watt bulbs lighting the room.

"Are you high right now?" Bubbles asked.

Buttercup chuckled a bit, a hollow sound, then said, "No."

It was then that Bubbles noticed a small white cylinder resting at the top of her sister's ear where it met with the skull, "Is that a joint?" Bubbles asked, pointing towards the questionable tube.

Buttercup stood completely still for a moment while the meaning of Bubbles' words sunk in, then, in a sudden outburst, she (Buttercup) raised both her hands to cover her ear, "What?! No! You can't prove it!" To which Bubbles let out a hardy sigh, before returning to her the making of her breakfast.

Bubbles aligned herself so that she was easily able to see the television, for Buttercup had left the machine on, and what was currently being shown was a news broadcast detailing a gruesome attack that had taken place just the night before in an area not very far away from DirtierDancing.Bubbles quickly moved back to the living room so she could better watch the program.

"Where just last night, witnesses claim a mysterious man in a cape appeared out of no where, and then attacked and killed a woman," said the generic looking news lady, "Here with me now is one of the woman's friends who saw the whole thing happen," The camera then panned over to show a middle aged man wearing a green shirt, along side him was a massive brown Great Dane who looked almost as aged as fellow next to him. Both were shaking like druggies trying to kick their addictions, "Tell us what you saw."

"Like, zoinks, man! That shit was crazy, man! At first it was just me and my friends walkin' along, trying to figure out the real identity of the Haunted Haberdasher, when we decided to take a shortcut down this dark alleyway, 'No way!' I said, 'I am not going in there! Too spooky!'

"But then my buddy, Fred pulled me aside and told me, 'If you don't stop being such a little bitch, I'm going to kick your ass all the way back to rehab!'"

At this point in the story, another man forced himself on the screen. He was bigger than the first, with blond hair and sporting a dashing neckerchief. When he appeared, the first man cringed as though he was expecting a mighty blow to come from the blond. Instead, all that came from him was, "I would just like to clarify that I did not threaten anyone. And that if I ever did threaten someone for being a coward, you can damn well be sure that I would beat that person into a coma if he ever told anyone about it!" this said, the man known as Fred looked at both the dirty man in the green shirt, and the dog, with an intensity reserved for homicidal street performers and the monkeys owned by them. He exited camera right.

"Please, Sir, continue." said the news lady.

Still afraid of the lingering threat just made, the man said, "Shit man!" in a whisper, then took a moment before he continued on with his story, "So we where all groovin' along when all of a sudden this red-headed dude pops up out of no where and invites us all to some, 'Midnight masquerade!' And I was all like, 'No way, man! Last time I went to one of those I woke up the next day with vomit in my pockets, and Russian String Quartet album in my hand!' Then the dude goes all 'Teeth'n Demons on us, and damn near bites Velma's head off!

"I was out of there lickity-split, after that, Man! Like faster than a republican at a gay pride parade!" The green shirted man was winded as a result of his substantial and heated monologue.

"So, you just left your friend behind?" questioned the news lady.

"Zoinks! You don't understand! This dude was chewing heads off like they were cheap cigars!"

"But you outnumbered your attacker?"

"Woman, there were beheadings afoot!" came the cry of Fred from off screen.

The news lady turned back towards the camera that connected her to the rest of the world, "Well, that's the story, a red-headed man in a cape is at large, and biting people's heads off. Back to you, Guy."

The shot of the woman became smaller and moved to the upper corner of the screen, as it did so the image of a dapper looking man sitting behind a desk came into view, "Thanks for that gripping story, Stacey. Why, I haven't heard of a woman getting assaulted that badly since my wife overcooked our steak! Our hearts go out to the victim's family."

"Oh my God," whispered Bubbles.

"I know, Guy Manhard has got to be the most sexist news anchor on the planet!" answered Buttercup, though no question was asked.

"No, not that!" exclaimed the blonde, "What that other man said about his friend being attacked. I think I saw the same person last night. I couldn't see what he looked like, but he was definitely wearing a cape, and he said I was invited to some kind of all night rave. I think he called it, 'Walker of the midnight dance,' or something like that."

"'Walker of the midnight dance?' . . . Is that anything like being a street walker?" asked the girl with green eyes.

"No, I thought so too at first," Bubbles stopped. She was obviously burdened with a heavy thought, "I knew something was odd about him. I should have tried to figure out what he was up to, maybe then I could have been there, and saved that lady."

Buttercup released a sort of condescending chuckle, "Your right. Or maybe the guy killed that woman first, and you could have avenged her? Or maybe that guy could have killed you too?" she laughed again.

"Your not helping."

"Not trying to," Bubbles still looked unsettled and out of character, "Look," Buttercup went on to say, "what's done is done. There's no point beating yourself up over it! Why regret the past when it can't be changed? Live in the moment!"

Bubbles tried to ponder over her sister's words, but found little comfort in doing so. Despite her new proclivities in life, Bubbles still thought herself something of a hero. Not like she used to be, definitely not, but she didn't consider herself necessarily retired, either. In her eyes, it was more like a brief hiatus from the superhero business. Or maybe she thought she was on a sort of reserve list for superheros, just waiting for some monumental catastrophe that called for her unique talents. She remained this way for a short time, until she heard.

"You know, I've heard about this before." It was Buttercup, and the words she spoke, cut through her sister's thoughts like a squid cuts through water.

"What?" responded Bubbles. She looked to Buttercup, who was pointing back towards the news, which was now airing a report an a meteor that would be passing by the earth in a few days time.

"That meteor, Jorden Søvn it's called, means Earth's Sleep. I think it's Dutch or Norwegian. From one of those places, you know? Anyway, they have this old legend about it, some prophet envisioned years n'years ago. Let me see if I can remember how it goes," Buttercup closed her eyes, and looked up, a movement reserved for those spelunking down into the deepest crannies of their mind, "'No grand feast awaits, no love shall be born eternal. For when Jorden Søvn comes next, all will wither, all will die.' I'm not sure if that's exactly how it went, but that's about the jist of it."

"Why are all prophesies so depressing? Why couldn't anyone have predicted that the future will be filled with good times?" asked azure eyed Bubbles.

"Hey, despair is a hot commodity, it sells better than bread, and faster than Ipods," answered Buttercup, "And if your looking for uplifting news I would never go to the Netherlands. Its never been home to a cheery group of characters."

Bubbles almost laughed at her sister's last comment, but was rather rudely interrupted by the front door of their home being opened by a rough and demeaning force. That force was Blossom. The former leader of the former Powerpuff girls went through the entrance way much like a tornado warning goes through a sleepy little village. Quickly, and prone to cause panic. Still, she was greeted mostly cheerily.

"Good morning, Blossom!"

"Why do you look so pissed?"

Blossom did not respond to either of them. She instead sat herself in one of the many chairs surrounding the kitchen table. There, she put her head in her hands and let out an exaggerated groan.

"What's the matter?" asked Bubbles, placing a comforting hand on Blossom's shoulder as she did so.

Blossom shrugged the hand off, then raised her head up to shout, "The cops came by and made us break up our protest! We weren't hurting anybody! Light one trash can on fire and all of a sudden everyonethinks you're starting a riot!" it then fell back into her hands.

"What were you protesting this time?" inquired Bubbles.

Without raising her head this time, Blossom said, "The new building Mojo is putting up."

"Man, you protest everything! Didn't you protest the church once? !" interjected the artificially mirthful Buttercup.

Blossom looked at her sister in the same way she looked at her most hated enemies, "Churches do more harm than good!"

"A church is a building, Blossom. And buildings are neutral." commented Buttercup with hearts all alive.

"You know what I mean, you intellectual invalid!" Yelled Blossom, then she went on and speculated, "I bet Mojo paid the police to come and get rid of us!"

"It's okay," soothed Bubbles, "Everyone in Townsville knows that Mojo is a bad guy. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he gets forced to move his building to some other city."

Blossom's voice became incredibly disparaged, "It doesn't seem that way."

Buttercup took that as a cue to come up to her sister and attempt to lift her spirits. She approached Blossom like a unemployed talent scout, gripped her shoulders in a massage-like position and said jovially, "I know what the real problem is," Blossom turned to make eye contact, "Your just upset because nobody's put any beef in your taco lately."

As soon as the words were freed upon the world, Blossom's entire composure changed. She stood upright with such a force that the chair she was sitting on, and the table she was at flew away from her body. Both Buttercup and Bubbles felt this same tremendous power, but only Bubbles was knocked back by it. Buttercup had expected this sort of reaction, so she had internally braced herself, and now stood facing her belligerent sister with a smile. Blossom moved towards Buttercup, closing the distance between the two so that they were only a few inches apart. This way they stood for a few cacophonous moments before Blossom finally spoke, "Why don't you ever know when to keep your dirty cock-hole shut, you half-baked druggie!"

To most, words spoken in this manner with this level of hostility in them would cause fits of fear. To Buttercup, however, this riotous outburst simply invoked her to laugh, and laugh hard. Then she did the most uncharacteristic thing her sisters had ever seen her do. She began to sing, turning and walking away as she did so, "Iamalasswhoalaslovesalad whoalashasalassinCanterbury!" She then quited the room leaving the other two puffs in her wake of confusion. Though, a moment after she had disappeared, Bubbles heard her voice reverberate through the walls, "Live in the moment, Bubbles! Things can only get you down if you letthem get you down!"

Bubbles picked herself off of the floor, "Are you okay?" she asked Blossom for the second time.

Blossom huffed like a teenagerwho didn't get invited to prom, then turned to address her sister once more, "Your crepes are burning." then she left, taking her bitterness with her.

Bubbles, with eyes so blue and equally innocent, rushed over to her flaming food yelling, "Holy crape!" as she did so.

A/N: I hope you, whoever may be reading this, enjoyed it. Leave a review if you feel like it, or don't if you don't. There will be another chapter next week.