Hey, guys!

Soooo, you guys were probably wondering where the update was during November. Because I was participating in this year's National Novel Writing Month, I was busy writing like mad for a non-fanfic story of mine, making sure that I finished writing 50k in thirty days. (In case you were wondering: I finished in time. WOOO!)

Anywho, that's why I didn't get to update last month. But no fear! This month, I plan on maybe posting 3 chapters instead of 2, to make up for my absence. We'll see, but I'm pretty sure I will! So yay!

So here's chapter eight! After all the seriousness and action of the last two chapters, this one's a bit of fun. Also, surprise POV's in this chapter! Haha. Enjoy!

Warning: Mild cursing in this chapter from some greens and one red.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, settings, or properties from The Powerpuff Girls, Craig McCracken owns them.

Sorry for errors!


Chapter Eight

-Buttercup's POV-

School the next day was…well. It was more intolerable than its' usual, normal amount of intolerableness.

That truly terrible Monday, probably the shittiest Monday in all of existence, started with everyone on the freaking campus staring at me as I walked to my first class of the day. Usually, my sisters and I got a little more attention from the people we went to school with, because of who we were and all that. But today, it was more than just that. It was like living our sophomore and junior years of high school all over again.

Judging stares. Whispers. Pointing. Smirking.

Only this time, it wasn't Princess Morbucks's fault because of some dinky little rumor she'd spread. Or the fault of emotional turmoil caused by the Rowdyruff boys back when we weren't together yet and they had gone through with their really stupid plan to keep us away. Oh no. It was none of those things this time.

This time, it was the media, Internet, and entire general public turning against us. All because of one stupid battle. All because of some stupid, self-destructing monsters that had made complete fools of us.

And in my first class of the day, I was treated to the ignoramuses in my class hounding me.

As soon as I sat in my usual seat—a chair at an empty table in the very back corner of the room, furthest from the professor—three dudes sitting nearby stared at me, whispering and laughing and pointing. I tried so hard to ignore it, folding my arms and staring ahead with a look that I hoped said 'do not even attempt talking to me or you will incur my wrath'.

Eventually, though, and predictably, they got out of their seats, coming over to me. "Hey," one of them said. "You're one of the Powerpuff girls, right? Buttercup?"

I flexed my jaw, contemplating for a second if I should humor them or not. I sighed, knowing I was going to seriously regret this. "Yes," I finally said flatly.

They traded nudges. "I told you she was in our class!" One of them said to the other two.

The third one turned to me. "Why do you and your sisters suck now?"

The other two chorused in laughs and 'ooh's. Some of our other classmates were watching us now with interest, obviously sensing that a conflict would happen soon. His words lit up a match inside of my chest, and I stiffened. With my eyes narrowed at the smartass third one who had dared to say that to me, I felt my face fall into a grimace. "What was that?"

The third guy looking less bold, probably because of the look on my face, he shrugged. "I mean, yeah. Obviously you guys were better at this superhero thing when you were little kids. Maybe you're getting too old for it, or something. Maybe you should retire."

Keeping my eyes trained on this asshole, I stood from my seat slowly, unfolding my arms and leaning over my table towards him threateningly. "You wanna say that again?"

He took a step back, defensive. "Hey, I'm not the only one who thinks it! The whole Internet is saying that about you guys. Your whole performance the other day was lousy."

"Performance?" I slammed my hands down on the table top. The wood splintered underneath my palms. "Did you think all that shit was for your entertainment? We were saving all of your asses. Would you like my job? Let me see you do any better with that jelly gut of yours, then."

The three of them were looking down at my desk with visible alarm. "H-hey, you'd better not break that," one stuttered nervously. "That's destruction of school property."

"Then maybe you and your little pals here better not piss me off," I said through my teeth. I was still staring them down, letting go of my cool exterior fully and letting my fury show. "Here's some advice. Turn around, go back to your desks, and never utter one syllable to me ever again."

"She's scary," one of them murmured to another. My eyes jolted sharply to him, and he dropped his gaze from me, looking at the floor and backing up a step.

Another one of our classmates, a girl sitting about seven feet away, stood up from her seat. "Hey," she barked at me.

I turned my glower to her, looking her up and down. She was small, even smaller than me, and I never heard her speak except for when she was correctly answering questions the professor asked. "What?" I said flatly.

Looking slightly uncomfortable now that I was looking at her, she cleared her throat but looked at me head on. "Aren't you supposed to be a super hero? Shouldn't you be making sure you're doing your job right instead of threatening your own classmates?"

I stiffened up again coldly. The room chorused in agreements then, people agreeing with her and turning distrusting, accusatory gazes my way. The shift in the dynamic of the room was instant.

"Yeah. Do you think you're better than us, or something?" Another girl, a blonde one who was always popping gum, said.

Another guy chimed in, "Just because you have super powers, that doesn't mean you can just push us around!"

Someone else said, "Being on TV all the time doesn't make you special. You're not all that."

"You, your sisters and those Rowdyruff brothers are just a bunch of fakes. Anyone could do what you do."

The different voices began talking over each other, blending into each other, getting louder and louder until everyone was just shouting in my direction, accusation after accusation after insult from each angry face. I had sat back down into my seat, gripping the edge of my table hard, watching my own knuckles turn white as more cracks formed in the wood of my desk. My whole face was flushed in my rage. Keeping my mouth clamped shut, I had begun to sweat, restraining and pushing down all of the violent defense mechanisms I was thinking of, not wanting to prove them right. Anything I did would just egg them on, and I knew that. But it was building and building inside of me. It had been years since I'd last erupted.

The moment I felt like I couldn't take anymore, and I was seriously considering turning to the window beside me and flying away out of it, from the front of the classroom, there was a loud BANG.

"All of you, quiet!" The professor of our College Algebra class had arrived and none of us had noticed. She'd thrown her books onto her desk, and it had startled everyone silent. Her voice rang louder than any of theirs had. "I cannot believe my ears. I will not tolerate this sort of animal-like behavior in my classroom, especially toward one of my students. If I hear one more unnecessary or inappropriate comment toward Ms. Utonium out of any of you, I will throw you out, and you will lose all of your participation points for this week. Am I clear?"

Everyone sat back in their seats, no one said a word of dissent, and I let out a quiet breath of relief. I didn't think I'd ever liked a teacher so much before that moment, but I also didn't think any of my teachers had ever stood up for me before, either.

The lesson started, and no one even glanced over at me. Slowly, I let go of my desk, and the tension left my back and shoulders as most of the anger melted away.

As soon as our professor dismissed the class, I got out of there as fast as I could.


-Bubbles' POV-

"Bubbles! Is it true that you and your sisters have given up crime fighting for good?"

"Is there any truth to the Internet rumor that you've sworn off a life of fighting monsters and have decided to move into the mountains and live without modern technology?"

"Bubbles! Bubbles! Any word on your recent loss in battle?"

All I did was leave my English Composition class and exit the building, and a swarm of reporters met me on the other side of the doors, surrounding me and shoving their microphones into my face. Their cameramen were right behind them, shoving each other around to get the best shot of me, or perhaps the most incriminating one.

I ducked my head down, my hair falling free from behind my ears and shielding some of my face from the cameras. "Excuse me, pardon me," I said to them, trying to make my way through the crowd. Some of the reporters were polite, letting me pass by, and others blocked my path. I could feel my face flushing with frustration and slight nervousness and I continued, "I can't answer these questions right now, I'm sorry. I really need to get to my next class now. Please let me through. Please. I'm gonna be late."

"So you don't plan on answering any questions? The public needs answers! Why are you and your sisters evading the media? What do you have to hide?"

"Bubbles! Are you hiding something?"

"Is Professor Utonium avoiding questions for a reason? Is he behind yesterday's monster attack on the city?"

I couldn't believe these questions. They were getting worse and worse. I pleaded, growing more frustrated, "Please, just let me through!" Tears pricked the backs of my eyes.

The questions grew louder, more frantic, the pushes getting more intense. I found myself in the middle of a rabid mob, and what was worse was the people I went to school with, just standing by and watching the situation unfold with a distant and amused interest. I eyed some of them, hoping they'd see that I needed help for once, but they didn't even budge—a few of them even rolled their eyes, seemingly annoyed. None of them were even going to try to help me.

Closing my eyes, I lifted into the air, breaking the dean's rule once again as I flew off into the sky, the questions echoing after me on the ground that I had left.

Speeding through the air to my sister's familiar dorm building, I landed directly in front of the door and burst through it, rushing to the stairs and full-on sprinting up all of them until I reached the sixth floor. Heading straight to the door of their dorm, I didn't even pause to knock, just took out the spare key that Blossom had copied for me and let myself in, swinging the door open.

As soon as I entered, I was greeted by the sight of Blossom snapping her eyes up to the door, surprised to see me. "Bubbles," she said. "Hey. Are you okay?"

I swung the door shut behind me, locking it again, and then turned to her, letting the tears come out of my eyes now. "No." I felt my lower lip tremble.

Sympathy melted over my sister's face. "The reporters found you too, huh?" She scooted over on her bed spread, patting the space next to her.

Not even bothering to walk, I floated over to her bed and dropped down next to her, curling my knees into my chest, wrapping my arms around them and leaning against her shoulder. "They're crazy, Blossom. They were eating me alive out there."

My sister's arm curled around my shoulders, hugging me to her. "I know. They have no shame at all. I've managed to avoid the reporters for the most part, but my classmates haven't been much better." I looked up at her just in time to see her cringe.

"Your classmates? Really?" I stared at her, alarmed. "Nobody said a word to me in any of my classes so far." Then I paused, remembering the indifference I had faced from my campus mates just minutes ago. "Although, I noticed that no one else really eager to back me up, either." I frowned.

Blossom sighed. "Yeah, that too. But you're lucky you haven't been hounded in class," she said. "With the way they were grilling me, you would think I took classes with a bunch of interns at the Townsville Times."

This time I cringed. "I'm sorry, Bloss." I sighed, too. "Today sucks."

"Yup," she said. We were silent for a minute or two, sulking. The past two days had been a disaster.

I broke the brief quiet. "When will this die down?" I asked her. "It has to eventually, right? I can't spend the rest of the semester scared of leaving my dorm because of reporters. This is madness."

She shook her head. "Don't worry. They'll get over it soon. They always do. They'll find something more juicy and important to report on, and they'll forget all about us. We'll be just the boring superheroes again soon enough."

Sighing once more, and nodding, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and checked the time on the screen. "Well, it's my lunch break. I don't want to go back out there, though, so I guess I'll just starve until dinner."

Blossom chuckled, lightening up the morose atmosphere of the room a little. "Oh, come on. Don't be ridiculous. We'll order delivery." She took out her laptop. "What do you want? Korean food? Pizza? That Mexican restaurant delivers now, too."

I knew coming here had been the right choice. I had only been here a few minutes, and most of the stress had left my body. The thought of ordering out put a big smile on my face. I said, "They all sound good, but we should call Buttercup first. You know she'll be mad at us if we order food without asking her if she wants anything." Blossom laughed.

After ordering our food, and Buttercup joined us and vented about her awful first class of the day, we ate our delivery, enjoying the last relaxed minutes we had before going out into the hurricane of questions once more.


-Brick's POV-

I sighed. I checked my watch. Half of the class was left still, and half had been completely wasted. I sighed again, letting my wrist fall back down onto the desk top. I dragged a hand down my face slowly. This had been the longest day in history.

It had been enough that I was still trying to make sense of what had happened yesterday. I'd thought the previous night had been the worst. But as it turned out, I was wrong. This day of classes was currently the worst in my recent memory.

I was in the midst of watching an ongoing, heated debate between my classmates.

Despite being in an economics class, the debate itself wasn't about economics at all, or even about today's topic of discussion written on the whiteboard at the front of the class.

The debate was about me. Me, my brothers, my girlfriend, and her sisters.

Today had been a whirlwind of criticisms and accusations and rude questions being barraged at me from left and right, and by now, I had stopped feeling upset by it. Now it was just plain boring and irritating. Even my professor had stopped trying to teach the class today's lesson; instead she had pulled up a chair to observe animatedly and throw in some comments here and there.

She definitely encouraged a debate-club like atmosphere in her classroom at all times, and getting us to debate in any way about anything was exciting for her, even if it wasn't about the lesson. And I guess even if it was at my expense.

"Townsville would clearly be better off with an organized military system in place, like other large cities in this country," said one girl who usually sat near the front of the classroom and corrected anyone who ever answered a question wrong. "We're the only large city left in the country with this superhero system, along with our awful police force, and look what it's left us with. Some ex-child-star-like college students with super powers who are clearly past their prime."

My mouth twitched. Couldn't say I hadn't been expecting to hear that. Ouch, though. I coolly fidgeted with my pen, which I'd taken out of my backpack at the beginning of class to take notes but was now completely useless.

A dude who usually sat in the back and would barely participate in class discussions piped in, "Listen, the media has portrayed it all wrong. They're completely censoring and twisting what really happened. Read eyewitness's accounts online about how it actually went down."

'Yes,' I thought. 'Finally, someone who knows what they're saying.' A slight grin appeared on my face, I began to nod, and I took a breath to agree with him, relieved to finally hear some sense come from one of my classmates.

Another girl talked before I could. "You know those accounts are hoaxes, right? Completely fabricated. Anybody could write one of those and say it was the truth. There's never any proof."

"No, there were pictures that they took from the scene on their cellphone." The guy from before insisted. "You can see Blossom and Bubbles flying around in them, and they aren't doctored. It's legit!"

She looked at him skeptically. "Did all of the accounts have pictures or video with them?"

He stopped, hesitantly conceding. "Well, no, but—"

"So those ones could've easily been fake. None of us really know what actually happened there," she concluded, looking out at the rest of the class as they nodded at her in agreement. The guy she'd been arguing with sat back down, defeated. I blinked at him dryly, tight lipped, disappointed at him giving up so easily.

Adjusting my red beanie on my head in tired frustration, I lifted a finger into the air before anyone else could say anything. "Uh, I was there," I pointed out. "I could tell all of you exactly what happened."

Everyone turned their gazes to me, startled looks on their faces as if just remembering that I was even in that class.

Another girl, one I'd never talked to before, said, "But wait. If you do tell us what happened, how would we know whether you're lying or not? You did used to be a supervillain when you were a kid. Don't think we forgot all about that." The class loudly chorused in agreement, turning cold glares and sneers at me.

Giving up, I leaned back in my seat, calmly folding my hands. "Fair enough," I said tiredly. I waved a hand in the air. "Continue with your discussion about me, then."

I'd meant it facetiously, but that was exactly what they did. They launched back into debate mode full force.

"What about the past two years, though? Besides the past week or so, crime here has almost been down to nothing. They even got rid of Mojo Jojo!" Someone plugged in for our benefit, which I appreciated.

"Who gives a crap about that? As if Mojo was that big of a deal to begin with. He was a lousy villain. Another monkey could've gotten rid of him," someone else said. My eyebrows shot up. "Besides, having no crime doesn't matter that much if we're going to have monster armies attack the city every month, and they couldn't even handle that. The one big crime-fighting job they've had in years and they made fools of themselves."

I scoffed. Well, shit. That was bold. "Real nice," I said under my breath.

The same smart guy from before stood up once again and shouted, "They did not! Watch footage online, seriously. They were kicking ass. They got rid of most of those monsters themselves. They were doing their jobs quite well. And the rest of those monsters died from seemingly natural causes, or maybe from fright, that's all. The media has turned against them for some reason, that's the only reason they're making them out to be failures."

Another point for smart dude. I nodded approvingly, clapping. "This guy knows what he's talking about," I said to no one in particular.

A girl standing near me turned to glare at me. "Shut up, no one asked you."

I stopped clapping, frowning, then I folded my arms. "Unnecessary," I muttered, looking away.

One more guy responded to the smart guy's rebuttal, "Ugh, 'the media', 'the media', 'the media'. Is that all you can talk about? You think there's some conspiracy going on here, but guess what? Sometimes the evil media that you hate so much is right about things. And they're right about this. These superheroes suck."

"Don't hold back," I said, loud enough for the whole class to hear.

I received a nasty chorus of 'shut up's, 'be quiet's, and just plain shushing. I pressed my lips together, shutting up. Egging them on wasn't fun anymore. For the rest of class I just listened silently to their spirited yammerings, bored and annoyed and exasperated.


-Boomer's POV-

As soon as Butch and I had left our dorm building, we were surrounded by a ravenous mob. Of reporters. Once again.

"Rowdyruff Boys! Rowdyruff Boys!"

"Hey, Butch! Over here!"

"Boomer! We have some questions!"

Rowdy reporters, shoving each other to get to us and shoving cameras and microphones in our faces. I had run into them once this morning, but I hadn't thought I would have to deal with them again. This whole situation was beginning to get ridiculous.

"For the love of God," Butch complained. He looked over at me, scowling in disbelief. "I can't escape these roaches."

"Neither can I," I said, sighing heavily.

Turning toward them again, Butch began shoving his way through. "Move it, you swines," he demanded. He crudely pushed reporters left and right, plowing a path that I followed him through with apprehension, keeping my hands to myself.

Reporters at his side still tried to keep up with him. A man reporter pushed his microphone into his face. "Butch, how long do you plan on not explaining to the public what happened on Sunday?"

Butch pushed his hand over the mic and shoved it away. "That's not my job, get the hell out of my face."

Another one shouted, getting defensive, "Butch, why don't you just answer our questions? Then we'll leave you alone."

"Why don't you just go away instead?" he responded, grumbling. He turned quickly to the right, probably hoping to throw them off and break through an opening. It was unsuccessful. Two cameramen blocked his path.

"Brick, when did you dye your hair?" One confused reporter asked.

He let out an impatient growl. "I'm not Brick. I'm Butch. I'm warning you, move out of my way." His eyes were dangerous and he was beginning to shout, which told me he wasn't far away from exploding. This wouldn't be good.

"Butch…" I said quietly in warning, hoping to calm him down.

One last reporter interrupted me. "Butch, what will you and your brothers do after the recent failed—"

"ALL OF YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE," Butch bellowed, and the flow of questions immediately stopped, turning into total, terrified silence. Pushing past the last of the reporters, Butch took off into the air, flying away with such a thunderous force that it caused the reporters nearest him to go tumbling to the ground.

I rushed over to help up one of the female reporters that had fallen on the ground, gently pulling her up after offering her a hand. "I'm so sorry," I apologized, pausing to help a man up as well. "I'm sorry. He's in a bad mood today. He didn't mean to knock you over. It was just an accident." I knew he had meant to knock them over so he could escape, but explaining my brother's crude tendencies to them wouldn't have helped, so I apologized again instead. I picked up a cameraman's camera that had fallen onto the ground as well, brushing some dirt off of the lens and then handing it to him. "Sorry."

"Thank you," said the lady reporter I had helped up. She continued, smiling up at me hopefully, "Boomer, will you please answer some questions for us? It'll only take a few moments."

I shook my head at her regretfully. "Sorry, I can't answer any questions right now. I have my next class to get to, and I have to leave now, or I'll be late. So if you'll excuse me, I need to go." I smiled at them politely. "Also, if you could please stop disrupting the school day for our classmates just because of us, that would be great."

The reporters collectively got disappointed looks on all their faces, traded looks with each other, then looked at me again. I offered them another slight smile and began to walk away.

After I'd walked a few feet, from over my shoulder, I suddenly heard, "Boomer, why can't you answer any questions? Are you, your brothers, and the Powerpuff girls hiding something from the public?"

Startled, I glanced behind me, and when I did I realized that the small crowd of reporters were following me to class. Their cameras and mics were stretched out to me once again.

"Boomer, do you know where your brother Brick is? Will he answer any of our questions?"

"Why did your brother Butch respond so violently?"

"Do you think that all of you might retire from crime fighting within the year?"

Sighing miserably, dejected, I turned back around, letting them follow me like a pod of annoying, loud ducklings as I made my way through the campus to my sculpting class.


-Blossom's POV-

A whole two days of classes passed, and things seemed to calm down slightly.

Reporters had finally stopped stalking us everywhere we went. It seemed that after getting no answers, they had finally given up. Also, campus security had been alerted of them, and they were all banned from entering our schools now. Perhaps now they could go back to interviewing their psychologists and cryptozoologists to milk for some extra ratings.

On early Tuesday evening, no one hounded me as I sat in the school library, reading a book. I was done with all of my homework currently, and some teachers hadn't even assigned us homework. It had been the last day I'd had class for the week. Thanksgiving break started for the whole campus tomorrow, and my sisters and I were going to stay home for a few days over the holiday break.

Professor had been busy at work in his laboratory since Sunday night. He hadn't answered any of our calls, or emails, or texts—though he wasn't very good at texting to begin with. The texts had been a last resort, really, but we hadn't known what else to do. He never took this long to get back to us when we tried to contact him. Ever.

We knew he was busy though, so we tried not to pester him too much. Whatever breakthrough he was working on in that laboratory of his, it would be important. It would offer us the answers we needed. The answers the whole world wanted.

That night, my sisters and I flew back to our childhood home.

We settled into the quiet house, and Professor came up from the basement once, greeting us with rushed hugs and a dinner he'd popped into the oven, and then he disappeared down into the lab again.

I went to sleep that night in my old bedroom after spending some time staring at the ceiling, concentrating and listening very closely to hear movements in the basement. It was far away, but when I held my breath, I heard him moving, scribbling notes on paper, moving some more. Some exasperated sighs here and there.

I rolled over in my old bed and closed my eyes, comfortable but also somehow not that comfortable at all.


Hmm, intrigue!

I'm sorry about not being able to fit Butch's POV into this chapter, but don't worry, his point of view will make an appearance sometime later in the story! Writing from the boy's POV is something I wasn't able to do often for the first story, so I want to fit a bit more of that into this one.

Hope you guys enjoyed, the wait for chapter nine won't be too long!

Don't forget to leave a review! Thanks for your support, guys.

-MsButterFingers