AUTHOR'S COMMENTS: Yeesh, been a while. Seriously, what the heck, right? This part had been finished for quite some time, but I had never posted it because we were working on advancing the story a bit further. The next one is done, so I'll post that in about a week. After that, I'll post the chapters as we feel they're ready, but it won't be *years* until they're posted. That's just ridiculous. Anyway, enjoy. :)
Part Seven - The Reunion Arena
The cry reached her, and her spine shivered and her chest quaked, all muscles going rigid. Eyes blank, mouth agape, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't think. She wanted to move. She wanted to think. Yet she could only see. Fresh paint on the wall. Time crawled.
The wrapping tore freely, and peeled away from the cover, revealing her present: a book. She clutched it tightly, smiling as she thanked him.
Winter had come to Townsville in all its white, ebullient glory. Blossom threw a snowball, and the Professor deflected it with his arm, and then threw one back. She ducked but it grazed her bow. He laughed, and she laughed.
The three of them lifted him into the air, soaring higher and higher. He laughed and hollered as they dove in one side of a cloud and out the other, sucking the cloud along their backs as they tore through it. He blinked his eyes clear and laughed harder. He hadn't said a word, but she knew he loved his Father's Day gift.
Hard reality came thudding into her mind. Blossom barely felt the paint roller slip from her grasp and spatter against the newspaper covering the floor.
She started, and could finally breathe, and it was as if strength were leaving her body in the effort of doing so; she fell to her knees, her hand lightly grasping the fallen roller. She finally turned to the open doorway on her left. Was it really him? Was he home?
After a moment, she began breathing deeply. She needed to calm down. It took forever, but she stood, and pressed her hand against the right side of the taped-up doorway, leaning over and peering into the living room.
Their eyes met.
Moments earlier, Professor stared back at Buttercup for another second before smiling awkwardly. "Buttercup." He had to search quickly for his next words. "You startled me." He chuckled nervously; she stared back, utterly astonished. He picked himself up from the grass and brushed off his lab coat with the backs of his hands. "When I heard you and Bubbles were back, I—well, I..." As he tried to find his words, he looked at her clothing. "You're... painting? The house?"
She glanced at the paint roller, and then back at him. "Yeah." She paused. "We... we patched up the cracks... and now we're... painting. The house." She looked down for just a moment, then back up. "Yeah."
He stared at her blankly, and then smiled wide. "This is wonderful! You're doing all your chores! Oh, my little girl is growing up." He got too close and hugged her tightly. Her arms were limp with surprise and her face was a mass of congested emotion pressed against his chest. He pulled back just enough to kiss her gently on her forehead and stepped past her, into the house.
She paused, blushing, and put her free hand to the place where his lips had touched.
The professor shut the door behind him, careful not to touch any of the white paint and stepped carefully over the newspapers lest he disturb them. He put a cupped hand to his face, and smiled as he said, "Bubbles! I'm home!"
After a moment of no response, he looked around, and found her, peeking out from behind one of the cupboards in the kitchen. "Bubbles!" He held out his hands and started walking to her, but stopped when he saw the look on her face.
"Don't..." she began, fear permeating her quivering voice. "D...don't look. P-please." She disappeared behind the corner. "Please d-don't look at-at me. Please."
Her plea forced a cold wave up his back and across the hairs on his head. He hesitated only a moment before walking into the kitchen, seeing her and then seeing the mass of metal tubes behind her. He quickly traced them back to their source, and his eyes went wide. "Bubbles! What—?" He knelt down and looked at the arms and the spot on her back where they met. He put a hand to her face. "Who—Why—You're not hurt, are you? Are—are you all right?" Her expression was ill, but she shook her head yes. "Who did this to you?"
She mewled and rolled her chin to her chest. "I..." She hesitated, and he waited patiently for her to speak. "The... robot... kn-knocked me out, and... I-I thought I was...was dreaming. But it.. hurt. W-when I woke up, I-I was like th-this. I'm s-sorry, Professor. I—" She felt herself being pulled forward, and her eyes went wide as she realized he was hugging her. She blinked, and cried, and hugged back.
"It's not your fault, Bubbles. It's not." He blinked away his tears. "Oh, I should have been there for you. I'm such a terrible father."
There was deep sadness in those cerulean eyes as he looked, but she said aloud, "You're a great father," and hugged him tighter.
They held one another for some time, and then the Professor set her back down, gently. He glanced at the metal tubes, giving them a cursory inspection. "Can you...?"
She nodded, and one of the arms pulled itself out of the pile, and waved at him. He chuckled, and ruffled his daughter's hair. "Then... for now, we can call it a gift. Okay?"
She sniffled and nodded, though her smile trembled. After a moment, she looked up at him, and found that he was actually doing a more detailed examination of the grid on her back and the connectors of the arms. He was muttering to himself, making mental notes of how it worked.
"...this... design, some kind of polymer with a non-magnetic base? That's..."
And then he stopped, and his eyes turned to hers: uncomfortable and pensive. He cleared his throat and stood. "Never mind."
Buttercup and Bubbles were just staring at him, and he searched for something to say. Finally, he clapped his hands. "Well, it looks like you two are doing a fine job. Need a hand?"
Buttercup glanced at Bubbles, and they both glanced upstairs.
He followed their gaze. "I could start upstairs if you haven't already—" His eyes met with those that shouldn't have been, and she darted back into the room. It was—
It couldn't be. Not her. She was...
He hardly heard his own voice as the unused name came forth. "Blossom?"
Buttercup and Bubbles turned to one another with quiet shock. They hardly had time to react when he ran to the stairs, climbing them two at a time, and darted to the open door.
He's here! The Professor. He's here...
She clutched the head of the paint roller to her chest. She looked down. Now her hands were covered in pink paint. She cast the roller into the trough and wiped her hands on her coveralls quickly.
She heard a dozen thumps as the Professor ran up the stairs. She clutched her hands together tightly, and swung her hair forward, draping it over the fake right eye, and adjusted her posture so it wouldn't fall away. She jumped slightly as he came into the doorway, his hand thumping loudly against the frame. He stared down at her, his eyes like saucers, gaping at her. The sides of his hair were silver now, and his face had more lines.
"No, no, it—it can't. Bloss—Blossom—No—it's not her, she's dead. She was dead, I saw—But she...right here—what... how—can't be. She..."
He was breathing hard, and he jerked his hand up to his throat, checking his pulse. No doubt his heart was racing, she realized. He swallowed against the fingers at his throat and stared off to the side, focusing on the pulses.
He grabbed hold of some of the creasing skin on his face between his fingers and dug his nails into it. They both cringed.
Finally, he slapped his own face. Hard.
He turned his head, still breathing heavy.
They stared at one another for a long time.
"Blossom... is that... really you?"
She blinked and nodded.
He inhaled deeply. He seemed to barely keep his balance and leaned against the frame for support. Still he stared at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and wonder. She could only imagine what he was thinking. As they stood there staring at one another, Buttercup floated up behind him, and Blossom could see as she turn her head, looking at Bubbles awkwardly. Bubbles was... on the other side of the wall? She couldn't see her face. How was she reacting?
He gulped hard, still in shock. He turned his head to Buttercup and Bubbles, floating outside the door. Buttercup glanced at her and nodded to the Professor. He turned back, and opened his mouth again, hesitating. "Blossom?"
She blinked, and waited for him to speak.
He was peering at her strangely. "Is it... really you?"
She paused, staring back at him. "It's me," she nearly squeaked. "I—I'm home."
His held breath came out all at once, and he nearly staggered back out the doorway. He held on and finally asked her, "How is this possible? You were—the lava—your... your... bones...?"
It seemed like that was all he was capable of saying. She swallowed hard. "Remember Professor Hardly's knock-off Powerpuffs?"
"The knock-offs?" He rolled his head back and leaned against the door frame. "He's alive? He... he faked your death?"
"No, not him."
"...then...?"
"Mojo."
"M...Mojo? But he—" After a beat, he clapped his hand to his forehead. "Oh, my God." The hand slid from his forehead to his eyes. "It's... as evil as it is brilliant."
She paused. The way he reacted. It was... a typical Professor reaction. One she hadn't heard in so long, it made her want to laugh, made her want to cry, and it made her want to run to him and lock him in her arms. She looked down and nearly smiled.
"My God," he breathed. "You were gone forever. I was sure I had—" He shook his head. "Oh, Blossom, I'm so glad I could see you again. You don't know how much I've missed you." He tilted his head, taking a more steady look. "Blossom, you..." he began, his voice fraught with unsteady love, so obviously afraid that talking about it might make the dream end. "You've grown! You're beautiful, and tall... and thin. You're so pale."
She paused, and glanced up and down at his frame. "You're...older. When did your hair... and you seem more muscular."
The corners of his mouth turned up. "You noticed, huh?" He curled his bicep and put a hand over the muscle covered by his lab coat. "It's all the work I've been doing. Lots of heavy lifting."
She smiled wanly. "Mojo's Secret Underground Health Spa didn't even have free weights. I'm a bit jealous."
He returned her smile, but then the moment passed, and her face grew pained.
"Professor. There's something else."
"Something... else?" he repeated.
If he had already seen Bubbles, then...
She steeled herself. "I don't know if you're ready to see this..."
He regarded her cautiously. "Is something wrong?"
She put her hand to the hair covering her eye, hesitated, and pulled it away.
His eyes went wide, his mouth agape. He was by her side in an instant. "Blossom! Your eye! What—"
She looked away, hesitating, the look on her face sad and dour, mixed with the pain of the memory. "It was... a bad experiment... he made it to... to replace the... the one that...that..."
He cut her off, pulling her close, clutching her head to his chest. She blinked and realized that she was crying. "Please," he begged her, his own bitter feelings causing his tone to go rigid. "No more. Blossom. No. You're here now. You're here, and... I'm still here, too. I can still be your father."
She hugged him tighter and wept.
Bubbles watched the two of them, misty-eyed, tears streaming down her own cheeks at the overpowering feeling of love she felt from them. She sniffed hard as she felt a spark of bitterness, and consequently felt self-loathing at what she thought was her own regret at eavesdropping on such an intimate moment. Then she turned her head, and saw Buttercup watching them, her eyes sharp and dazzlingly green through a film of tears she failed to hide.
The rest of the day, the girls worked on the house. The girls insisted that the Professor relax; he surely needed it after learning of Blossom's revival, even though he told them he could help. They finished painting the walls, and needed to wait for them to dry before they started on the door frames. Buttercup finished her share and started helping Blossom, much to her surprise.
The Professor poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down on the sofa, and watched the girls.
Sisters united.
He took a sip of his coffee.
Finally, every wall was pristine and shiny with wet paint. Buttercup flew from room to room gathering up the scattered newspapers. Bubbles relaxed all three sets of arms and slumped to the floor, exhausted; she looked ready to crash. Blossom helped her to the sofa, and then took the other side, next to Professor. He set down his cup and wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close.
Buttercup disposed of the trash in the can outside, and when she came back in, she stopped, seeing the three of them cuddling on the sofa. She slowly hovered to the floor, scratching her head, looking away.
"So hey, uh..." she paused, looking around. She happened to glance at the clock. It was getting late. "...what's for dinner?"
Blossom looked up at her, then at the Professor.
Professor looked at Buttercup, then down at Blossom.
Bubbles was already asleep.
"Come to think of it," Blossom said with a weak grin, "I haven't had anything since breakfast."
"Well, that's no good," he said, half-admonishingly. Blossom was already too thin. "Let's go out for—"
Bubbles squeaked in fright, suddenly awake, her eyes wide.
They all turned to her. She stared up at Professor pleadingly.
Professor pursed his lips. "Hmm." After a moment, he gently separated himself from the girls and rolled up his sleeves, heading to the kitchen. "Sit tight, girls. I'll just be a minute."
They watched him as he opened up cabinets and drawers rapidly, looking for the things he needed, and to re-familiarize himself. He seemed to be having a very hard time.
The three stared at one another, very worried.
Finally they ate. Buttercup had not made her trip to the store with the idea of cooking any food more complicated than breakfast in mind, so she had only gotten things she could eat by themselves or with a little bit of stewing. Beef, chicken, pork, tomatoes, carrots, and a couple packs of frozen vegetables... but the Professor made due. The kabobs were grilled to perfection. Professor still knew how to cook after all these years. The Professor poured himself another cup of coffee, and they all sat at the kitchen table with Blossom in the center seat. He smiled at them, watching them eat, as he dug in to his share. He lifted a kabob off his plate and bit into it. He savored the flavor and tang. He watched Buttercup bite onto a hunk of meat and slide it off the skewer with her teeth before shoving it into her mouth with her left hand.
He grinned uneasily, but kept eating. Tomorrow, he would go to the market and buy enough for a feast. He began making a list in his head.
A week passed. During that time, Professor tried to spend as much time as possible with his girls, and did his best to help them if need be.
Afternoon of the second day, he stopped Buttercup in the hall. "Buttercup, is Townsville all right? Shouldn't you be... well, fighting crime, or something?"
She blinked at him, and rolled her head to the side, staring into nothing. "If the hotline rings, that means we're needed. It hasn't rung since we got back."
He turned his head to the hotline. It sat there on the stool, covered in a thick layer of dust.
He paused, hesitating, and finally said, "Have you tried... calling her?"
She looked up at him quizzically. "What for?"
He stared down at her blankly. "To see if she's all right?"
She scoffed, and made to walk past him. "She'll call if she needs me."
She was about to go upstairs when she felt herself being pulled back, heard the phone lift off the cradle and then heard the buzz of the ringer at her ear. Professor had one hand on her shoulder and was holding the phone to her ear with the other, giving her a stern look. "See if she's all right." It wasn't a request.
She acquiesced and grabbed the phone. He stood, watching her. She blinked at him, then concentrated on the phone. She perked up when she heard a response. "H-hey, Miss Bellum, it's Buttercup."
A slinky-smooth voice came through on the receiver. "Oh, n-nothing," Buttercup replied, "I was just—I-I just wanted to see how you were doing. Anything... new?"
Buttercup grinned weakly at Professor, and he smiled back.
Bubbles' new arms were a concern of his. He had finally gotten up the courage to talk about them. "Bubbles, can I talk to you?"
She was holding the easel in one real hand and brushes in two of her metal hands. She was sitting on a stool about four feet away from the easel, which was sitting between her and the doorway. She looked up at him as he came into the room. "Okay," she said simply, and continued painting, glancing at him as she did.
He watched the motion of the arm as it drifted up and down, paint brushes in tow. They moved almost imperceptibly with the fake appendages, weaving in and out seamlessly, never touching. He realized he hadn't said anything in a while, and she was still painting and glancing up at him regularly, almost as if she were waiting for him to speak.
He cleared his throat. "You, uh... figured out how they work, then?"
"S-sure," she said, and bit her lip as the arm moved ever so gently to the left, and pulled back. "Look," she exclaimed proudly, and turned the canvas around with a third metal arm, still holding the paint brushes.
He looked, finally. It was him. How long had she been painting it? Had she just started? Was she always this good? Did the arms help her focus? It was incredible! Was it a side effect or an inherent ability? Could she—
He blinked, and looked at her. She looked happy. He smiled at her. "It's amazing." It was all he could think of saying.
The smile fell away from her face. "There's more. You're right. They do help me focus... But... not just on me."
He paused, and tilted his head.
She nodded, and her voice quavered, "Yes, but... I have to t-try hard."
"Hm." He frowned.
Her free metal arm landed on his shoulder, clutching his shirt. She looked desperate to keep calm. "You're... you're not as—as f-fast as Blossom, but... you are more c-careful."
He looked at her with such determination and resolution that she relaxed, and began to smile. Her eyes were watery, but she didn't cry. Not this time. The last arm slid purposefully away from his shoulder.
"Bubbles. The dream you had, when the robot captured you. Tell me all you remember."
He turned the corner and walked into the room. Bubbles and Buttercup were sitting on the sofa, and Blossom was seated between them, staring at a chess board. She moved the white bishop from e6 to d5, paused, and then moved the black knight from f7 down twice and to the right. She tsk'd, removed the pawn, and stared at the board, hard.
Professor blankly stared at her, glanced at the chessboard, and blinked. "What's going on?"
Bubbles looked up at him. "She's playing chess."
He blinked. "With herself?"
Blossom blinked and turned to him. "Oh! No. I'm—" she hesitated, but pointed to the eye. The fake one. She told him, "I'm... trying to beat the computer."
"It's so weird," Buttercup chuckled, "but it's pretty cool, too." She kept watching as Blossom moved the queen to fork the knight and a rook.
Professor took a seat next to Bubbles and stared at Blossom's fake eye. "Fascinating," he muttered.
After several moves, Blossom finally threw her arms up in defeat. "Augh! He got me!"
Bubbles looked sympathetic but Buttercup called her out on it. "Oooh!" She reeled back and pointed at Blossom. "You got schooled by a computer!"
The professor watched intently, nodding with understanding. Then he blinked in confusion. "'He?'"
Dinner. The seventh night. Professor had pulled out all the stops. Mashed potatoes with home-made turkey gravy and chives; grilled barbeque steak with sautéed onions; succulent vegetables; he even had a bottle of sparkling grape juice.
After he called them down, they stared at the feast one after another, eyes watering with their mouths. It wasn't just the food; they hadn't had a home-cooked meal this good in ages. Now, more than ever, it was like nothing had changed; that they were all there, in the dining room, together again: Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, and their father, Professor Utonium.
Bubbles was naturally the first one to sniffle and shed her tears.
It didn't take much time for Blossom to join her.
Finally, as if suddenly realizing and immediately trying to hide it, Buttercup.
Professor's eyes darted between all three of them in fright. "Girls! What's wrong? What's wrong?!"
Blossom opened her eyes first. "Nothing, Professor," she said emotionally. "We're all just glad we're together."
They ate. And it was good. So incredibly good. They ate slowly, glanced at one another, glanced at the Professor, and chewed their food almost silently, eyes budding with tears all the while. They each thanked the Professor in turn, and finished their plates. They were finished, and getting ready to clean up when Professor stopped them.
"Uh, hold on a minute. Blossom," he said, as she returned to her seat. She sat, watching him, as he stared at her seriously. "I was hoping you'd tell me about... your eye. If you could. Please."
To his surprise, she looked like she had been waiting for him to ask her.
She took a deep breath, held it a moment, and sighed it out. "Sure."
After the explanation—which had taken well over a half an hour—Professor Utonium was silent, thinking deeply. The silence in the room was only measurable by the tick-tock of the cat clock on the wall, its eyes shifting left and right with each click. The girls kept quiet too, at least after Blossom had finished speaking. When Professor was trying to think, it was best to stay silent. They all knew that. But the silence really was terrible. Blossom found herself counting each tick and tock.
"Well..."
When the Professor spoke, the three of them immediately snapped to attention in their chairs.
He didn't notice. "...it's... really a tough situation. I mean, Buttercup's the only one who can really go outside without causing a commotion."
They looked down, and nodded.
"There's a chance people would overlook Bubbles' arms after a while, but it sure as heck wouldn't be right away."
They nodded again.
"The fact that so many people saw... er... your skeleton," he finally said, tentatively, glancing up at Blossom, who once again bobbed her head in affirmative, "means it would be impossible for you just to waltz back into existence without a wave of angry townsfolk demanding to know where you went."
They all looked away from one another, sighing pensively. He was right, after all. It was a major problem.
"The thing is," he continued, "you're not exactly a superhero anymore, Blossom."
All lightheartedness that might have remained was effectively crushed.
"You're not indestructible... you can't fly or lift cars or anything... setting aside the eye, you're a normal little girl now."
She blinked and stared up at him expressionlessly.
"After all this time, we've just found out you're alive..." Professor slowly clenched his eyes shut. "...and I can't ask you to—"
Bubbles' eyes went wide as Blossom's reply came sharply:
"Can't ask what? For me to put myself in danger?"
He looked crestfallen, but nodded.
She kept going. "Professor, please. It can't get worse for you. Not anymore. You know exactly what is at stake. If you're still afraid that something is going to happen, then I can tell you that you're right. Things will happen. Things already have. I'm not a normal little girl. I never have been. Why should I bother starting? No. No, I'm going to be with my sisters. Because we're the Powerpuff Girls, and I won't let that name die now that we've got another chance for it to be truly alive again."
She looked at the Professor hard.
"I won't let it die from fear."
She looked out at nothing.
"I won't let it die from despair."
Bubbles blinked, and looked down.
"I won't let it die from anger."
Buttercup stared at Blossom in shock mostly, but creeping across her face was a renewed sense of respect.
"I won't let it die. Not as long as I am actually alive."
Buttercup turned her head, looking at the professor curiously.
Professor stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on Blossom. She returned his gaze without a word.
Finally, he sighed, folding his hands at the table. "You really want to make this decision?"
"It was made by you, nine years ago. Don't you see, Professor?" She put a hand to her chest. "I could have died at any time even with my powers. If you didn't think we could die, then what were you thinking? We were never indestructible, we were just strong."
He winced.
"But... your powers..."
"I've still got some left."
She tapped her head.
"I'm still a Powerpuff Girl."
Professor was agape, the words sinking in slowly, and soon the expression was replaced with a smile. "Were you always a force of will, Blossom? Unfair that you grew up behind my back."
She blushed, and sat back into her seat. She looked away, then angled her head down and looked up at him. "I had a strong opponent," she told him.
"Mojo Jojo..." He grimaced, and there was a heavy pause as he inhaled. "Blossom, I'm sorry."
"I got away. It's alright."
"No, not..." He held his forehead. "I... was being selfish. Still," he added, "you are my daughter, and I think I ought to be a little protective, don't you?"
Buttercup crossed her arms. "You're a little too protective, if you ask me."
"No, you're just reckless," Blossom told her.
Bubbles giggled, and Buttercup scowled at her. But her expression softened and she looked away. "Whatever."
The other three chucked. Then Blossom started again. "So... what do you think we should do, Professor?"
His eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I have an idea."
Mid-morning sun dried the grass and signaled the ants and bees to start their labor. All things proceeded as usual with one exception: The Utonium household.
In a car parked down the road, Mr. Hobbes sat in the driver seat with the binoculars in one hand and a meatball sub in the other. It was his shift; the next one was in four hours. Mr. Calvin would replace him. Until then, he sat, and took a large bite of his sub.
Quite some time had passed before he noticed some motion at the house. He re-wrapped the sub quickly and set it down, grabbing the tape recorder, and putting the binoculars to his eyes. He removed them briefly to look at his watch, and then put them back on, lifting the recorder to his chin. The button clicked. "Ten-forty-two, Professor John Utonium has exited through the front, and is getting into his car. He appears to be pulling out of his driveway, and is going—wait, now he's turning around and backing in. And now the garage is opening. His car is halfway inside. He's gone into the garage now." He waited a moment before finishing the report. "No further sign of movement." He clicked off the tape.
He set the recorder down and picked up the sub again, taking another bite, setting it down, and picking the recorder back up. He didn't have to wait long for more movement. He clicked on the tape and checked his watch. "Ten-forty-five. Buttercup and John are getting into the car. Looks like he's starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. The garage door is closing behind them... I see Bubbles in the back window... she looks nervous." He blinked. "...Aaand it looks like she saw me. Eh, looks like they're heading towards Townsville." He paused. "No further sign of movement." He clicked it off, and dropped it into the seat, next to his sub. He looked at it for a moment, then sat back and pulled out his cell phone.
"Miss Bellum, this is John Utonium. Fine, and you?"
Blossom uncovered herself a little ways from the house and looked up at Bubbles. Bubbles glanced down at her, and then out the window, nervously looking back and forth around the street. She looked positively ill to Blossom's eyes. Obviously, Bubbles was too worried about being seen, even though they had taken the time to hide her arms with a number of thick blankets and sheets. Bubbles glanced over her shoulder at the Professor for just a moment before returning her gaze to Blossom.
"Don't worry, Bubbles," Blossom whispered. "He knows what he's doing."
Bubbles just stared at her with her already-wide blue eyes. "There was someone watching us leave."
Her eyebrows shot up. "What?"
"Well, not much," Professor was saying into the phone. "I'm back in Townsville and I have something urgent to discuss with you. Can we talk? ...No, not over the phone. In person. It's very important. ...I'm afraid you'll have to see for yourself. Yes... Yes. Uh-huh. Great. Can you open up the lot out back for me? Wonderful. I'll see you in ten minutes. Goodbye." He hung up the phone. "Just hang on, girls, we'll be there in no time. Miss Bellum will know how to handle this."
The three of them were silent for some time. And then Buttercup spoke. "Is this, like, one of the perks of working for the government or something?"
He opened his mouth to speak, faltered, looked at her, and then back to the road. "I guess you could say that."
As they approached the lot, Blossom pulled the sheets back down over her body. Professor greeted the guard and drove past the gate to a large elevator. It carried them to the garage, and he quickly found a parking space close to the main elevator. It would bring them right outside Miss Bellum's office.
Professor dialed the number and put it to his ear. "Miss Bellum," he said into it as she answered, "we're here."
Bubbles peeked out the window. The garage was empty.
Utonium glanced at her. "Is everything ready?"
The speaker above the elevator door came to life with Miss Bellum's voice. There were other speakers scattered around the garage, but this one was the only one that sounded. "I don't know what's so important that you need all these special precautions, but if you need to get up here without being seen, I'll do what I can to help."
The four of them grinned to one another, and Professor spoke into his phone. "I'll have Buttercup run point. Tell her what to do. We need to go quickly."
"It's not going to be easy. Why can't you be seen?"
"I can't tell you yet. You have to trust me on this."
There was a brief moment of silence. "All right. Let's get you up here."
John grinned. "We're counting on you."
Buttercup shot backwards, the way they came, and they carefully exited the car, Bubbles' robotic limbs making a veil shape around Blossom as they moved to the elevator. The jeans Blossom borrowed from Buttercup were a little too baggy and she found she had to hold on to them as she walked; Bubbles' sweatshirt was getting in the way of the arms, and Blossom had to adjust it for her.
In a moment, they heard their green sister's familiar lilt on the speaker, "Okay, now what?"
Blossom kept quiet, but nudged Bubbles, and pointed up, then at the Professor.
"Oh! Professor, the elevators are on the second and third floors, heading to the first floor!"
"Okay, got it.
Professor looked down at Bubbles as she spoke, blinked and gave them an awkward smile that Bubbles immediately mirrored. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that." He pushed the elevator button.
Miss Bellum spoke to him through the phone. "Get used to what?"
"Er... nothing, Miss Bellum. I'm just... a bit overwhelmed seeing Blossom—I mean, Bubbles' powers in action again after so long."
"I... suppose? John..." She paused. "You still think about Blossom, even now?"
He looked down at his crimson haired daughter mindfully. "It's as if she never left me," he said with a hint of pride in his voice. They smiled at one another, tears forming in the corners of Blossom's eyes.
Sara didn't quite understand, but she acknowledged. "Whatever helps you sleep," she told him.
Buttercup threw open the door to the stairwell, and an office-worker bounced off of it and fell to the floor, groaning in pain. As she saw him, her eyes widened a little. "Ooh! Sorry! I—" She hesitated. "I'll help you later!" She bolted away from the injured Mr. Andrew Anderson, who looked over at the slowly-closing doorway, and slumped to the floor where he was, moaning like a beached whale.
As she approached, someone was already waiting for the elevator to arrive to take him to his destination. He looked at her as she approached. "Oh, hello, Buttercup. What—"
"Sorry, Pops, I've been sent to tell everyone that the elevator is undergoing repairs. It'll be broke until further notice." She shrugged, gesturing the way she came. "You'll have to take the stairs."
"What?" He looked at the lights centered above the doors. "But it's working just fine."
She grabbed him by the collar and heaved in the direction of the stairwell. "Sorry! Exercise is good for ya! So long!"
He screamed like a frightened chimpanzee as he flew through the air and landed with a rolling thud thirty feet away. He looked up with fear in his eyes, and crawled his way out of sight.
Buttercup ignored him and turned to the elevator. She glared at the elevator buttons. "Crap... how do I stop it?"
She shot out the window and back into Bellum's office.
"The elevator. I need to clear it."
"Press and hold both buttons for three seconds."
She was gone and at the elevator again. She did as told, counting out in her head. One... two... three. There was a small beep, and when she pulled her hands away, both lights were extinguished. She stared at them with some interest. "Wow. Didn't know that."
They got into the elevator.
Quiet music played, something poppy and only a few months old. Bubbles started humming it, clearly to distract herself. The music cut off, and Bubbles jumped.
Bellum's voice came through. "Okay, I still have a speaker in here."
"Oh! Good, good. That means Buttercup can hear us, right?"
Blossom's eyes rolled at the elevator lights. Bubbles blinked.
Bellum: "You didn't have to throw him like that."
Buttercup: "Sorry, I panicked. Is it clear?"
Bubbles squeaked. "Wait!"
Bellum: "What is it?"
"There's someone at the elevator on the next floor!"
"...How...?"
The Professor interrupted. "It's the X-ray vision. Right, Bubbles?"
Bellum's sounded skeptical. "Maybe..."
After her apology to the office worker she had thrown, there was relative silence now but for the hustle and bustle of the office behind her. She adjusted the shoulder straps of her green dress and smoothed out the wrinkles around her midriff. She looked up at the lights. They were holding on B2, where the others were, and hadn't moved yet. "Come on, guys. Hurry up."
Soon enough, the elevator went up to B1. She looked down with her X-ray vision, and saw the elevator, but not its occupants. It was too thick to look through. Then she saw it. A Janitor on the B1.
"Oh, sh—"
It was time to move. She bolted to the stairwell, threw open the door, and shot down the steps.
The Professor stood uselessly in front of Bubbles and Blossom, and the doors slowly opened...
And Buttercup tackled the poor Janitor at roughly Mach 1.
"DOH-FU-HUAA!?"
"Sorry!" Buttercup's voice echoed into the distance.
The elevator party winced, but they quietly passed the first floor.
Buttercup sat the Janitor down, thinking wildly.
"Uh! Threat. Bad! Oh no! Better talk to your boss. Gonna get worse!"
She shot up the stairwell, and out the window, and was suddenly next to an exasperated Miss Bellum.
"Buttercup, please, let's just—"
"Uh... Bubbles. I need... a—"
"We're headed past the first floor," she could hear the Professor saying.
"Buttercup?" Bubbles' voice peeped over the tinny speaker system.
"Yeah, uh... What should I tell people?"
There was a pause.
"There's... uh... a bug! A mutant bug. And... It's too tiny. You can see it! Super vision. It's everywhere! Oh no—Ow! Don't poke me."
The Professor quickly coughed. "Uh, sorry, Bubbles!"
Buttercup was already gone, out the window and back in going to the second floor.
She landed in front of the elevator, just before several important looking businesspersons were about to press the button.
"Buttercup?" One woman boggled at her.
"Uh. Mutant... monster bug! Too tiny! It could destroy you! A-booga-booga-booga!"
They stared at her blankly.
"I guess we'll go home, then?"
Buttercup exhaled hard. "Yeah. Or don't. Whatever. Just take the stairs."
The elevator passed silently, and the trio of suits shrugged and moved to the stairs. Buttercup darted past them, flying up to the third and final floor, peering through the pane of glass out into the room. She saw the doors leading to the Mayor's office at the far end. And then she looked around and cringed. No other rooms for her to herd people into. Just desks, and people going back and forth, discussing details with coworkers and then back to their own desks.
What to do? She had to think quickly. She flipped on her X-ray vision, and could see the elevator rising.
She shot down to the floor below, opened a window, and flew out of the building, quickly floating up, just at a slight angle to the window closest to Miss Bellum's office. She pulled back just slightly and then shot forward, smashing right through the window with a spray of glass, hitting the floor and bouncing up to hit a desk, sending splinters everywhere. "AUGH!" she cried as she hit the window, and after she hit the desk, she twisted on the floor like she were break-dancing, rolling to her feet and clutching her head, whipping her body around randomly.
The lady whose desk she just destroyed stood up from her chair and tried to make sense of what happened. She had bits of glass stuck in her hair, and the eyes behind her Coke-bottle frames were wide. "Buttercup, what's wrong?"
"STAY BACK!" She bellowed, "RRRAUGH!" Her eyes shot open, and the red lasers shot out, making a deep black streaks in the ceiling tile, raining dust from the overhead. People had already started getting up from their desks and backing away, but that wasn't enough. She had to get them all to leave.
She kept stumbling around clutching her head, and then she charged the green energy to her hand. "AUGH—NO!" She shouted out as her right hand detached from her head and with deadly accuracy, it shot out and blew up a desk lamp, and then she kept rolling on her heels awkwardly, clutching her head and grunting furiously. People were already at the elevator, mashing the "down" button rapidly in panic. She whipped her eyebeams around, slashing deep grooves into the wall and ceiling by several office workers, many of whom took the opportunity to dart into the stairwell instead.
"MUTANT DEATH BUG! MICROSCOPIC!" she shouted frantically. "GET OUT! SAVE YOURSELVES! GET OUT NOW! AUGH!"
The entire floor of people made a mad dash for the stairs while Buttercup threw another blast of green at a chair, only missing one of the secretaries by about a foot. Just under the screams and thundering sound of footsteps, the elevator let out a ding, ignored by everyone else, and as the doors opened, the last office worker ran into the open stairwell, out of sight. Inside the elevator, the two girls and one Professor stared into the nearly-vacant room, watching Buttercup twist like a freak of nature, eyes clamped shut, letting out a fierce growl, showing no sign that she had heard the ding of the elevator.
They just stared at her. She finally glanced over her shoulder, bolting straight up at the sight of everyone staring at her. She blushed furiously and looked away.
The elevator door slowly closed.
She waited a second, but the door did not open.
Miss Bellum yelled from her office. "Buttercup, the elevator is going down! Someone pressed the button to floor number two!"
"Oh, crap!" She bolted to the stairwell, and raced back to the second floor.
Finally, the three of them stepped out to the third floor. "What was all that about?" Blossom asked her incredulously.
"Well, I—I was trying to get them to leave. I didn't really know how. I just... improvised."
She sighed. "Well it worked, but it sure looked goofy."
"I admit," Professor began, "when Bubbles said you were break-dancing up here, I really didn't know what to make of it. But," he added, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, "it got us here unseen. Mission accomplished, as they say."
Blossom glared at him. "You're not encouraging her, are you?"
He sighed. "The point is, we got here without being seen. We can worry about it later. All right?"
Finally, they arrived. Professor pushed the doors open, and the girls followed, Blossom barely hidden behind Professor's legs.
Miss Sara Bellum had her head in her hand as the doors opened. "Buttercup," she began, "why would you destroy—"
She looked up, and her eyes went wide.
