Part Two – Core
Buttercup stood over the decimated scraps of the robot. What was once smooth tendrils of carbon-steel now resembled baked calamari. It was twisted and scraped all over, and mud had caked on in the fight through the park, tarnishing its surface.
As she stood, the effect of her adrenaline wore off and she was reminded of the throbbing in her arm and the cuts on her face and burns on her body. Her hands by this time were calloused from years of fighting, and she felt the rough skin on her hand against her arm as she put some pressure on her muscles.
Her scars were tingling. The sensation from the blast felt like a sunburn all over her skin, but the scars were the worst. Torn and faded. She felt them under her clothing, pulsing, the mark on her left forearm, the bite on her right shoulder, the cut down her left eye. She winced.
It felt like she had broken some ribs, but at least she wasn't coughing up blood.
She pursed her lips and then wiped at a newly-formed cut.
As she stood staring at the robot, she felt an incredible anger.
"Where is she?" she demanded. She could only stand, and watch the sparks from the broken hull as it refused to respond. "ANSWER ME!"
She lashed out at the crumpled remains, ripping open the main body in the process, electricity flashing and making smoke like thick fog, making her blink reflexively. She approached the machine again, staring into the center of the body, and she stopped. Her eyes went wide, her jaw dropped, and her entire body trembled in shock and horror.
Inside, hooked up and linked to the complex circuitry of the metal monster was her sister.
The sister it couldn't be.
Blossom.
Oh my God... But... it couldn't... what—but . . . s h e . . .
Her body was thin, emaciated, as if she hadn't eaten properly in years.
She wasn't moving.
Buttercup simply stood, a numbness overtaking her, deep in her mind. She heard from a distance, "Get it!" A voice from her memory?
Did she just move?
She felt a slight impact on her hand and started. Had she just spaced out? She looked at her sister, strapped to the inside of this twisted robot, and a million thoughts raced through her mind. What was she doing here? She was dead! But... she was still alive, after all this time?
Wait! If she was inside the robot, that means that she was feeling every hit Buttercup was giving the robot! She stared at her sister's body. Pale. Unmoving.
She had killed her! No... no!
She hadn't been dead. She was alive, in the robot. And now, she had killed her! Shock turned to horror and made her mind turn over on itself, and her eyes swelled.
Buttercup couldn't remember the last time she had cried, but there, on the street, with nobody looking, she felt the tears well up in her eyes and let them go. She fell to her knees, sobbing at the sight of Blossom wrapped in this twisted circuitry...a metal tomb. She wept, salt water streaming down her cheeks, and held her sister's body in her arms. Cradling her softly, she hugged her, and wept. "You're dead!" She sobbed, barely recognizing what she said. "You're...you're dead."
First, she just knew that she knew. Having no control over her mind or body for so long, it was almost an entirely new feeling just to think. Her mind brought forth the barest traces of ideas, which overwhelmed her. They echoed through her mind like glass shattering in an steel room. Next, she felt pain, which at least meant that she was alive, for she knew that death was an absence of pain.
Still...everything hurt.
She couldn't close her eyes; she was almost too weak to do it, and they were incredibly dry. The pain pounded in her chest the most, as her increasing heartbeat threatened to burst at any moment.
And then she knew that it was still watching.
Her eyes, still open, darted back and forth around her prison. The hovering cylinder, the computer core, like an evil organ, still hummed with electricity... she wanted to destroy it, but was weak, and unable to move from her bonds. It was trying to assess the situation and reroute power to parts that were still functional. This touch-and-go situation was a matter of life and death to her. It wasn't long until it regained control over her. She would rather die than let that happen.
Then she heard the sound of metal being torn like thin cardboard. The metal scraped, and rang like a cymbal as it was torn open in front of her, with the blinding sparks of electricity against the darkness, quickly replaced by the blinding light of fading sunset. Unable to close her eyes as of yet, she looked up at the figure before her. Her eyes adjusted to the light, and she saw a green dress and the familiar figure of her sister.
Buttercup? Is it really you? If her eyes weren't so dry, she might have been crying.
She started to speak but stopped. Was this even real? After all the images in her mind forcing thought from her head, she couldn't be sure that what she was seeing was now.
Blossom concentrated, her body shaking almost unnoticeably as her eyes twitched back and forth between Buttercup and the computer core. "Get it," she rasped out, her voice almost alien, even to her. "It's... it can still see. Get it." Her voice was ragged and raw, but it was still her voice and she put as much force into it as she could.
Buttercup didn't respond, but it seemed as though she understood, as if in a hypnotic daze, acting on its own...but from what? Was it that her pleas sounded so desperate that she had to obey them? Or was it instinct? It was possible. Blossom would always be the leader.
Buttercup, eyes hollow, backhanded the core, shattering its circuits. Blossom felt its power over her die instantly. She relaxed, but still her sister remained in a daze.
Blossom watched Buttercup just stare at her with empty, soulless eyes for another minute or two, and then she seemed to snap back to reality, as if the last few moments hadn't registered to her.
Inside the robot, she could hear nothing for a few moments, as Buttercup stared. Then, suddenly, she became aware of someone crying in the distance. She glanced around and didn't see anybody other than the brunette before her.
Bubbles? Is that Bubbles? Is she here?
And then Buttercup was beside her, hugging her, a little too strongly. Her sister's crying was not the same as the crying she'd heard in the distance; it was fierce and wet and startlingly real.
She gasped, almost choked from the intensity of the embrace. She realized how weak she felt and was about to say something, when Buttercup spoke.
"You're dead!" Her sister cried through her hiccups. "You're...you're dead."
"I was."
"You're dead... you were dead... I didn't—"
"Buttercup."
It took Buttercup a moment to even register what was being said to her, but when she did, she slowly rose up, staring at her sister's face quizzically.
Blossom blinked, and Buttercup's eyes went wide. "Blossom! You're—" Without realizing it, she was hugging Blossom again.
"Ow," she heard Blossom say. "Stop. It hurts."
"Oh," she pulled back. "Sorry." She searched for something to say.
She was hungry, and tired, and thirsty, and sore all over from the fight, and the words wouldn't come out.
But she had to say something!
"Are you all right?"
She kind of regretted asking such a careless question, but Blossom didn't seem bothered by it.
Blossom hazarded an attempt of her muscles, and the dissatisfaction showed on her face. "I can barely move."
"I've gotta get you out of here." With a little effort, she severed the wires securing her sister's arms and legs, then gently pulled her frail body out of its prison. She flew up a little too quickly, and Blossom yelped in pain.
"Sorry," she slowed down. Blossom's wheezing increased in the air, and she seemed to have trouble breathing, so she landed softly. Smiling wanly, with just the slightest bit of sardonic humor, "I guess we're hoofing it. Can you walk?"
Blossom hesitantly put her feet on the ground. She pushed off with her legs but found herself back in her sister's arms, almost sprawling on the pavement in the attempt. "Guess not," she wheezed.
"Come on," Buttercup pulled her sister back into her arms.
From a distance, where there was nothing before, she appeared. And saw the sisters in the dust by the broken robot.
Alive, she thought to herself. They're alive. She's alive? SHE'S ALIVE. How...? Tears of joy welled up in her eyes. And then suddenly, a great pain. A darkness welled up in the base of her spine, an ice that chilled her enthusiasm.
But they're going to die.
A voice, not her own. Her sadness came back, mixed with the knowledge that it was true. She knew that was so because as long as she had heard this voice, as long as it was with her, that voice had never once been wrong.
Now it wanted to kill.
She hated it. It was going to make her kill.
