As soon as she was out of Mr. Kellman's class, Bubbles rushed over to Robin's locker. She didn't exactly have time to talk to her this morning with Ciara pulling her away so suddenly, but they had caught up during lunch.
Both her sisters had after school commitments, which sucked, but it wasn't like she hadn't grown accustomed to being on her own. Luckily, with Robin back in town, she wouldn't have to spend another day by herself.
"Robin!"
The brunette beauty turns around, her large blues eyes aiding in recognition. "Bubbles. Hey! If you're looking for Blossom, you just missed her. She already left for work."
"Yeah. I figured. I was actually looking for you. How was your day? "
"It was good. None of my teachers are total monsters, so I'm confident I'll manage a solid B average this year. I might even get a few A's too!" Robin responds, closing her locker shut. She begins walking, and Bubbles follows after her.
"That's great!"
"How was your first day?"
"It's was okay. Kinda weird."
Robin stops walking in front of an open classroom."Weird? Oh? I wanna hear more about that."
"Ok, well, you won't believe who I have to sit—"
"Oh, Bubbles I really do want to hear more, but I meant later. I have to go." She says pointing to the open classroom behind her.
"What? Go where?"
"I signed up for the computer club!" Robin looks gleeful despite the fact that Bubbles feels like her heart just got crushed. "They meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, but don't worry I'll still be able to make it to all the football games—front row cheering you on! I still wanna hear more about that story though, but I have to go, the first meeting is mandatory, sorry honey. I'll catch you later, yeah?"
Bubbles stands outside the open classroom tugging on a pigtail, "Yeah. Don't worry. Computer club sounds like fun! I'll see you tomorrow." Robin waves her goodbye and enters the classroom. The door closing after her.
"I'll just go…home." Bubbles mumbles.
She heads outside and even though there's plenty of students outside it seems empty compared to this morning. She doesn't usually say or think this, but…this really sucks. Bubbles was hoping with Robin back in town things would be different, but it just looks like it's going to be another lonely day for her. This is starting to become depressing.
"Bubbles!"
It takes Bubbles a minute to realize her name is being called. She looks around confused. "Bubbles! Over here!" She spots a short blond girl standing near the bus stop, waving her over.
"Julie?"
"Hey, I thought I recognized you. You know I never got that phone call."
"What? Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was going to text you but—"
"But you got caught up with your cheerleading friends, right?"
"No, not really, well sort of in the morning, but that's not it. I've had sort of…an off day—again. But, anyway, I'm really sorry. I meant to get in touch. "
Julie hums, "This sounds like ice cream talk."
"It's not, really, but I mean…" I could go for ice cream? Bubbles thinks, then she thinks about the comments Kitty and the rest of the cheerleaders were making this morning and decides it's best if she lays off the sweet treats. It's not like she thinks she's fat, but she should probably start getting back into cheerleading shape. She's probably already behind everyone else on the squad. "Actually…I'm not in the mood right now. I'll just go home, see you later." Bubbles is already walking away when Julie calls after her.
"Wait!" Julie yells catching up to her. "I'll walk with you. We are neighbors after all."
"Right." Bubbles says, remembering that Julie lives just across the street from her. It's still hard to believe they spent their whole lives so close and this is the first time they've ever spoken. She wonders why that is? "Um? Weren't you waiting for the bus?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was. I was going to work, but I got a last minute call that I wouldn't be needed today. It's a good thing I missed the first bus, or else I'd have gone for nothing."
Bubbles hums, happily accepting her answer, not at all suspicious of Julie's nervous expression, never even noticing it. "That is lucky! I mean, I'm sure you didn't feel that way at first, but I'm glad you missed it—um, I mean, I'm happy you don't have work today. I was starting to think this was going to be another lonely evening."
"Lonely? What about the pom-pom squad? Or you know, your sisters? Isn't that who you normally hang out with?"
"Yeah, normally…everyone's just busy, that's all. And I don't really know what to do with myself when I'm alone."
"That's strange."
"What is?"
"Oh…I meant the whole being alone thing. I mean, I guess I'm biased. I'm usually always by myself. I prefer it that way."
"Really? But you're so nice."
Julie smiles, but it comes across like a grimace, "I'm glad you think that." Says Julie after some time. "So did you have a good day back?"
"It was…interesting."
"Yeah? My day was boring. What made yours so interesting?"
"Umm…I don't know…"
"Oh come on? What is it?" Julie asks, looking curious.
"Well,…you'll never believe who I'm stuck with as my lab partner."
"Who?"
"Boomer Mercer."
Julie stills for a second, her eyes growing large and fearful.
"Julie? You okay?" Bubbles asks with worry after noticing Julie has stopped walking.
"Um…yeah…just…oh my God…I can't…How was it?"
"I guess not as bad as I imaged, but we didn't have to interact today or anything, so he was quiet the whole time. It was still really scary though, and to make matters worse, he's in my art class too."
"Boomer? In art?"
"I know, I thought the same thing. I sure he's just taking the class for an easy A."
"Right…that must be it…" Julie says, her voice sounding distant.
"Julie are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, yeah…I'm just worried about you. You know what they say about the Mercers."
"Do I." Bubbles agrees. "I'm just going to try my hardest to ignore him and not get on his bad side."
They continue their walk sharing stories of their day. Bubbles found it odd that she didn't share a single class with Julie but Julie's taking AP class and honor courses while Bubbles is enrolled in the normal classes, so it makes sense that they don't see each other often. Bubbles asks if Julie is friends with Blossom since she takes AP classes too, but Julie says she's never spoken to her before. Makes sense, Blossom isn't great at making friends.
Julie is a lot more chatty than Bubbles expected from a self-identified loner, but Bubbles doesn't mind. She enjoys the conversation.
"He had a piece of broccoli stuck in his teeth the whole class, and I sort of felt bad that no one said anything."
"Why didn't you?" Bubbles asks laughing.
"No way. I'm sure if I said anything I'd get a detention." They both laugh.
"Well, this is me," Bubbles says, breaking the laughter and pointing to her house.
"And that's me," Julie says pointing across the street.
"It's so weird that we've lived so close to each other for all these years and yet this is the first time we've talked."
"I know! But no time like the present right? I wish we could keep talking." Julie says, eyeing Bubbles' house.
"So do I! We could go to the park or something if you want? Unless you're busy. I know the course work in AP classes is harder."
"Well I do have homework, but I can multitask that is if you don't mind me coming in." Julie nods to the Utonium house.
"Really?" Bubbles says excitedly, "
You wanna come in?"
Julie nods her head, "Oh, but first I have to ask you a very important question."
Bubbles tilts her head to the side in confusion, "What?"
"Do you have ice cream?"
"Yes! Of course!" Bubbles laughs.
"Excellent. After you." Julie gestures to the house.
The blondes enter the empty Utonium house laughing. Bubbles feeling ten times better. This is the second time Julie has managed to turn her frown upside down. Bubbles is so glad she met her. Even though they've just met, Bubbles knows they'll end up being the best of friends. She has a good feeling about it.
With nearly two months of working at the Kat's Cafe Blossom has become very familiar with the commute to work; therefore, once the bell rings she moves swiftly and efficiently, not thinking twice about her route to work. She's on the first bus headed downtown before the second bell has rung. Familiarity, routine, and efficiency are the key components of Blossom's life. Without those three key elements, which she strives so hard to achieve in her everyday life, her life would be chaos. Complete and utter chaos. Just the thought is enough to give her a cold sweat.
It's an overreaction, she knows, but Blossom can't help her heightened reaction. Most things make her nervous, well, anxious really. She hates it, but at least she has a better handle on it than let's say, Buttercup's anger or Bubbles' tendency to cry. She can keep a pleasant expression and calm demeanor even when she feels like she's about to throw up…well, most times she can.
At least her sisters aren't held back by their emotional distresses, they can perform in front of hundreds of people with no problem. Buttercup with her sports and Bubbles with her cheerleading. Blossom herself could never imagine doing such things. It's not that she's shy, per say, but there are just too many variables. The uncertainty of it is just so…unsettling. Something can go wrong at any moment, not to mention the fact that they're entirely reliant on the other people on their teams. It's just easier to do things herself, by herself, her way. She can guarantee the best outcome this way.
Some might consider it neurotic thinking, but it suits her just fine. It's this kind of thinking that allows her to sit in the much appreciated air-conditioned bus completely at ease. Despite the less than perfect morning, Blossom's day had gone well, just as she planned. She arrived early to each class which allowed her to pick the best seat, front center. She finished her summer reading list, which meant she was one of the very few not to fail the not-so-surprise pop quiz Ms. Kean handed out. She also had the lunch menu for the month printed out, so she knew to bring her own lunch and avoid the mystery meat sloppy Joe's being served in the cafeteria. All in all, a good day.
Besides work, she has some cleaning and homework she has to get done when she gets home, but none of those things bother her. Yes, she initially had reservations about working at the diner—with Darcy— but after getting used to the place, it wasn't so bad. Darcy was right—which is still hard to say—but the diner does attract a lot of customers. Not so much that she's running haggard all over the place, but enough to make some decent tips. She's also built a somewhat agreeable raptor with Darcy, although Blossom does go out of her way not to ask Darcy for anything. Not that waitressing takes all that much brain power. It's simple. You smile, greet, ask order, write down order, take order to cook, take food to hungry customer, and then smile again. Simple. Routine.
Blossom likes routine.
After getting off and switching to another bus, Blossom reaches her destination with five minutes to spare—just like always. Not like always; however, are the massive amounts of people inside. She's startled by the crowd at first, but not enough to panic. A bigger crowd just means bigger tips. But then she notices the red, the plaid, the blazer—oh no. She hurries to the back room, where the staff lockers are, quick to avoid the many patrons in the restaurant.
"Blossom, gee are you a sight for sore eyes." Darcy greets.
"Central Prep. Those are Central Prep students. Why are there Central Prep students here? Why?"
"Whoa, Darlin' calm down. They come here all the time. I mean Central Prep is only a short walk away."
"But why here? Why them? I mean, they're rich. Why would they want to eat here?"
"Right, well, I see you're still with the uppity attitude. If I didn't know you better, I'd of thought you were one of those rich snobs out there."
"Sorry…it's just…I didn't expect it."
"Don't worry, Darlin', they do this all year round. I mean we may be cheap, but we got great food. I also overheard once that they like coming here 'cuz the place is so quaint. I guess coming here is like taking a break from livin' large—getting a taste of what it's like on the other side. Look, the ones that come here are pretty okay, oblivious, but okay. Just don't let the snobby ones bother you."
"Snobby?" Blossom asks, her voice betraying her and revealing how worried she is. It's not only unexpected, which is something she hates, but she's not good with other people her age. Yes, there have been some young people that have visited the diner before, but none from her school and never this many. She knew running into Central Prep students was a possibility when she first took the job, but she didn't think it would be this many. They're rich! Why would they eat here? Okay, yes the food is pretty fantastic, but still. Can't they go out for sushi or gourmet food? Like other rich people.
"Darlin', you okay? You're taking this worse than, well, to be honest, I didn't even consider this to be an issue."
"I was…it just caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting this."
Darcy hums, " 'kay, well get your uniform on. Got a lot of work to do, and don't worry, you'll be fine. Chin up." Darcy exits the locker room, leaving Blossom alone to gather herself. Blossom puts on her uniform and then takes a minute to steady herself. She's being silly. The Central Prep kids won't even know who she is. She'll be just another face in the crowd, another poor freckled face, but an indistinguishable face nonetheless. It will be fine.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
She heads out and heads over to her usual table. "Hello, my name is Blossom, and I'll be your waiter. Are you ready to order?"
An hour into her shift and Blossom's calm mood has returned. Honestly, she feels a little silly for overreacting in the first place. Darcy was right—again, not easy to admit—the Central Prep kids are snobs, but that works in her favor as they just act as if she's not there. That works just fine for her.
"You are so right. This place is cute." She overhears someone say. Only the way they say cute is the way a parent might say cute when their child makes an adorable mistake. It's not genuine, just funny.
"More ironic." Another person from the same table says. "Right?"
"This reminds me of the old country. Like when I went to visit my grandparents."
"Your grandparents are Lords. I'm sure you didn't see anything except for the inside of their lavish mansion."
"They hand windows—and goats! I think, they looked tiny from my bedroom window."
Oh heavens, help her.
"That does seem quaint. You were practically living in the wild."
On second thought, help them.
DING
A group of three girls all from Central Prep walk in.
"Hi, welcome to the Kat's Cafe. We're a little crowded today, but we still have some seats available in back if you would follow me."
The tall redhead in front of her scans the place, completely ignoring her. Rude, but she's come to expect it from this crowd. Unless she's wearing designer clothes Blossom supposes she's pretty much invisible to these people.
"Ugh. This place is so tiny. He's not going to be here, Princess. " A girl from the group speaks up.
"Yeah, this place is completely beneath him." The third girl adds with her polished British accent.
"Would you two shut up! I'm looking! According to Twitter, he's here. Oh! There! In the back! I told you he'd be here." The monstrously tall girl with the twin red buns pushes past her and walks to the back.
"Uh…" Blossom almost stops them, but considering they're moving towards either A) someone they know or B) one of the empty tables in the back, Blossom supposes it isn't much of a big deal.
"More keep com in, eh?" Darcy says.
"Yeah, and they're all Central Prep students. We haven't had a regular customer all afternoon, is it normally like this?"
"Hmm, well, Central Prep kids do like to bug this little place from time to time, but, heck, this is a special occasion."
"First day back you mean?"
"No. I mean—"
"Hello! Would SOMEONE mind attending us!"
Both waitresses turn to the back where the tall curly-haired redhead is currently yelling for them.
"Your table, sorry Darlin'."
With a sigh Blossom heads to the back table where the lavishly dressed girls look out of place in the small plastic booths.
"Hi, my name is Blossom, and I'll be your waiter. What can—"
"God! Finally! Is service always this slow here?"
"Sorry, we have a lot of customers today."
"I bet." Snorts one of the girls, "This place has officially been put on the map."
"What do you—"
"Bristle, shut it." The redhead commands. She then snaps her muddy brown eyes to her, "Well? Aren't you going to take our order?"
"Yes, what would—"
"What's the most expensive thing on your menu?" The redhead asks, practically yelling. Loud enough to turn heads.
"Um, I beg your pardon?"
"They hire deafs here? Wonderful." The British girl says sarcastically.
"I said," The redhead bites out slowly. "What is the most expensive thing you have here." Again, practically yelling her question.
"Umm…I don't…the stake? I guess. I mean all our food is pretty affordable."
"Well, duh, of course, it is." The British girl says, causing the other brunette girl, Bristle, to laugh.
"Ugh, no way am I having a stake here. Who knows what that low-quality beef will do to me?"
"Although a stomach flu might help you lose those last five pesky pounds you're always complaining about." Bristle whispers to the redhead.
"Don't remind me." The redhead laments, smoothing down her stomach with her arm.
Five pounds? She's model thin already.
"You know this cheap but rather quaint place may be as close to a tea shop back home as we're ever gonna get. What do you say, Princess?"
Is Princess her nickname? Seems rather affectionate between friends.
"You know what…" The redhead, Princess, clears her throat before speaking up, even louder this time. "We'll have all the desserts on the menu. Three of everything and a constant supply of tea."
Blossom nods, "What tea—"
"Doesn't matter."
"Early Grey." The British girl requests.
Blossom nods once more before turning away and walking to the counter.
"Are you sure you got the order right?" The cook asks.
"Positive," Blossom responds.
The cook merely shrugs and takes her order stub.
"Boy, are they a piece of work."
Again, Darcy is very right.
"Hollerin' like that. You think she'd want everyone to know."
"I think she did. She came in looking for someone, someone in the back. I don't know why she didn't sit with them, but I'm guessing that's what all that was about."
"Hmm." Darcy hums with a hit of understanding in her voice as she stares at the back wall.
"What? Do you know her? Because the way she talked, I don't think she's ever stepped foot in here before."
"No not her, but I think I know who she's looking for; it's the same reason all these kids came in here today."
"What do you mean? Who?"
Darcy grabs her by the shoulder, bringing her in close. An act Blossom does not approve of.
"You see that boy over there. Sitting by himself?" Darcy whispers.
Blossom looks over the hordes of students and spots a redheaded boy sitting by himself in the back booth, a booth over from where the three rich girls sit.
Darcy voice lowers, "He's Brick Mercer."
Brick Mercer? Mercer…
Blossom gasps, "A Mercer? Here?"
"Shh. Quiet girl. Don't make it obvious."
Blossom doesn't know him, just his family. Mercer is synonyms with bad, deceitful, cheater, and, well, just plain evil. Bad deals, bad business practices, bad role models. There's also the rumors that can't be ignored. Violent and criminal rumors that normally Blossom wouldn't believe except for the fact that she heard these rumors from a reliable source. Her father.
"He's evil." Blossom spits out.
"Well, now he hasn't done anything. Hasn't even spoken to another person 'sides me. I think you're being a little harsh on him."
"He's a Mercer," Blossom argues as if that's all the proof she needs. Which it is.
"Order up!" The cook yells, breaking their whispering.
"That's me." Blossom grabs hold of as many plates as she can carry and takes them over to the snobby girls' table. "Here you go."
"Finally!" Princess, yells. "And where's our tea? You expect us to eat without anything to drink? What kind of service is this!"
"Sorry, Miss, I'll go get you those drinks."
"Well, then go! Stop flapping your mouth and get them!" Princess yells again, causing the other girls at her table to laugh. Blossom turns around and spots other snobbish and gleeful looking eyes staring at her. Blossom lowers her eyes and quickly shuffles over to the teapot. She can still feel their glares, like need points on her skin.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
She grabs the teapot and rushes back. With cups in her hands, she pours out the drinks and hands them over. She wisely chooses not to say anything, having learned nothing she says will appease the Princess of the table.
"Waitress!" A customer from another table calls her, and thank heavens; she needed a distraction. "Could you bring me some of those sweets please, sweets?" The blond boy winks at her, causing his buddies to laugh.
Oh no. Not thank heavens.
Thirty minutes later and it's as if Princess has magically been able to make her visible. She complained about being ignored before, but this type of attention is even worse. The crowd hasn't diminished in the slightest, and every few seconds she'll hear "Sweet Cheeks," "Waitress," "Red" and her personal favorite, "Peasant." They either want more food or to poke fun at her. It has her on edge. She's almost dropped plates she's shaking so much. Her shift doesn't end for another two hours, and she doesn't know how much more of this she can take.
"Peasant!" Princess yells out, still her least favorite customer. She's even worse than the leering boys. "Tea." She says simply, then turns back to her conversation.
"It's like so weird that he's still here, right?"
"I know. What is even the appeal of this place?" The British girl says, taking yet another bite of her third slice of chocolate cake.
Blossom begins pouring out the tea, slowly. Her hands are still shaking. All this unwanted and negative attention has given her a headache that has left her vision somewhat hazy. She can pretend that it's a migraine, but Blossom is keenly aware that she's very close to having a panic attack.
Cool. Calm. Collected.
"Whatever. Doesn't matter. As long as he stays in one place." Princess says, "I mean, God is he hot or what? Europe was too good to him."
"How would you even know? Your back is to him." Bristle points out.
"Because I saw him at school, duh. Besides, his back is to mine as well. It's a power play. So hot. He is very aware that I am here and when he's ready, it will be so on."
Oh heavens. This boy, this good for nothing boy is the reason her life is hell right now. What is even the attraction? Blossom sneaks a peek at the boy in question while the girls rattle on. She can't see much besides his dark red hair as he's faced way from them just as Princess described. He seems oblivious to the conversation—very loud conversation—happening in the booth right next to him. His attention solely on the book in front of him. What is he even reading? Blossom stretches out her neck, curious to see what he's reading, and catches a glimpse of the cover.
The Count of Monte Cristo. Interesting.
"Ow!" Princess cries out, jumping out of her seat. "You stupid girl! Look what you did!"
Blossom jumps back, lifting her teapot from where she accidentally dropped some on the angry redhead. "I am so sorry! It was an accident!" Blossom tries to explain.
"You did that on purpose!" Princess yells, enraged. She can feel everyone's attention on her. The diner having gone quiet. Oh, this was such a careless mistake. Stupid. Stupid. What does she do now? Oh no, she can feel it,—sweating palms, rapid heartbeat, erratic breathing—she's going to have a panic attack. No, no, no, no, no! Not here. Not now.
"I'm sorry!" Blossom manages to yell out between erratic pants, "I really am! Here let me—"
"Stay away from me! Ugh! You…you…BITCH!" The word stings, having never experienced that word directed at her before, but what stings more or should she say what will sting more is the slap that Princess intends to give her with that outstretched hand. Blossom flinches, but the blow never comes. She opens her eyes and finds the redheaded Mercer standing in front of her, his hand wrapped around Princess' small wrist.
"Oh!…Br…Brick…" Princess stammers with a bright pink flush over her pale face.
"How about we get out of here?" Brick asks, nodding his head toward the door. Princess swoons, no doubt thinking the gesture so romantic, but his voice just sounds so…bored and…forceful, like a demand rather than a romantic request.
"Oh, Brick." Princess swoons again. Brick walks ahead of her having dropped her arm like a rag doll. Princess follows after him as giddy and excited as a puppy given a new toy. Princess' friends follow after her, casting her nasty looks as they walk by. Blossom merely bows her head, avoiding their sharp gaze.
"I expect the meal is free then? Given the fact you poured scalding water on my friend."
Blossom says nothing and timidly nods her head.
The girls walk ahead, and when she hears the familiar ding of the door, she runs to the locker room as fast as she can. She locks the door behind her when she hears Darcy call her name.
Then she falls apart.
She cries, but not from embarrassment, although that may play a part. She cries because she feels horrible, unsteady and unreasonable—hysterical. She falls to the ground and pulls her knees up to her chest, trying to quiet her sobs and control her breathing.
Cool…Calm…Collected…
1…2…3…10…30…50
She counts, and she counts, and she counts, and she only stops when she hears the banging on the door. It's Darcy, yelling for her to open up. She's sure she was knocking on the door earlier, but only now that her heartbeat has slowed can she actually hear Darcy.
"Blossom! Open up!"
Blossom sighs. She really doesn't want to open, she still feels lightheaded and shaky and like she's about to throw up, but she has a job to do, and well, Blossom never slacks on her responsibilities. She opens the door timidly, Darcy's stocky frame hiding the view of the rest of the diner. Darcy pushes through, not waiting for her to open the door all the way.
"Darcy? What are you—"
"Blossom! Are you okay? Oh, Darlin', come here." Darcy engulfs her in a giant bear hung, hugging Blossom tight to her body. Blossom is too startled at first to reject the hug or even to squirm away from the older woman's touch, but when the shock wears off, Blossom is surprised to find that the hug is actually rather...enjoyable. Darcy is warm and soft—motherly. It's…sweet. Blossom tentatively returns the hug, but unlike Darcy's strong arms, Blossom's own hang limp around Darcy's middle.
Darcy pulls away from the hug all too quick. "Oh, I'm so sorry about what happened out there. Those nasty girls were completely out of line. Are you alright?"
"I am…I will be."
"Hmm, well, alright, but why don't you just go on home. I think you've done enough for today."
"But the crowds?" Blossom argues, "I can't leave you to all that work alone."
"Don't worry about it, most of them left already. As I said, they only came to see the Mercer boy. Now go on home and get some rest."
Blossom nods, "Thank you. I'll just change really quick."
Darcy smiles in return before exiting the locker room, "Oh, and Blossom,"
"Yeah?"
"These guys…those girls…they ain't worth it, so don't lose any sleep over it, 'kay."
Blossom smiles back, "Okay."
Darcy leaves. Blossom quickly dresses and goes home. Fortunately, as Darcy said, there aren't any students left in the diner, so Blossom is able to leave with some dignity and some peace of mind. Except as Blossom's mind tends to do, she thinks of the following days and the fear and dread that this might happen again makes her feel all that much worse. She tries to think of positive thoughts the whole ride home to distract her from today. As she thinks a sudden thought occurs to her.
Why did he help me?
They end up going to Bob's Burgers. Mitch and her. The sun is setting by the time they get there, and Buttercup knows they'll stay out way past sundown. Mitch doesn't ask outright, but she knows he questions her being out so late. Luckily, he's learned not to question her decisions after their last argument. Like she said, she doesn't need another mother hen clucking at her and telling her what to do. No matter how cute he is.
"Finally! Where the hell have you guys been?" Craig yells out, surrounded by everyone else at their usual table. There are wrappers and half-eaten food all around them. They've obviously been here a while.
"What the fuck, guys? You ate without us?" Buttercup complains.
"The fuck took you guys so long?"
"Work. Dick." Mitch answers, "My dad took advantage and worked us extra hard. I swear the guy is a tyrant."
"At least we waited for you." Adds Jennifer sounding annoyed. "We've been here for over an hour; I thought you guys were never gonna show."
"That's sweet," Buttercup says with a flat tone. "You buys us food too?"
"We did but, uh, we kind of ate it." " Answers Donnie, making everyone laugh.
"You mean you actually paid for something, Donnie?" Mitch asks, surprised.
"Wasn't my intention, morons here stole my wallet."
"Yeah, we did!" Lauren beams, waving Donnie's wallet in the air. Seemingly happy with herself that her planned work.
"Give me that!" Jennifer screams trying to snatch Donnie's wallet back only for Lauren to throw it at Buttercup. "Here! Dinner's on Donnie!"
Buttercup catches the wallet but doesn't know whether to listen to Lauren or not. It's one thing to joke around, but Donnie is still none too pleased with her, and well, he's a crazy asshole. She doesn't need someone like that getting pissed off at her—not any more than he already is at least. Luckily, she's saved by Mitch.
"Come on BC, let's get some food before Donnie decides to reclaim his trashy wallet."
"I heard that!" Donnie yells as the two walk over to the counter.
Not too long after that, they're all seated together eating burgers and talking about stupid stuff that doesn't really matter. They're loud, crass—annoying, according to some of the customers and the owner himself, Bob—but Buttercup doesn't really care. It's fun. Buttercup hasn't had much of that over the last week, and she welcomes the distraction. They stay there way past the time Mitch and Buttercup both finish their burgers. Everyone too full and tired from either work or having to get up early for school to do anything else.
"… And I ended up punching him right in the face, but like it turned out to be my mom's new boyfriend." Craig laughs, finishing a ridiculous story. "Man, was my mom pissed."
"The guy deserved it. Creeping around like that, what? Were you not suppose to hit him?" Donnie adds, causing everyone else to laugh some more.
This is…nice, which is usually an odd word to describe this group, but for once it's nice. No one is drunk; no one is making fun of her or making rude, snide comments. It's just a couple of friends hanging out and enjoying some burgers. It's so…normal. Normal enough to make Buttercup forget that her life has been anything but normal for the last five months.
"Oh my God, that reminds me!" Lauren exclaims, "Have I told you all the story of how Craig and I met?"
Multiple groans erupt around the table.
"I swear, you tell this story at least ten times a year," Jennifer complains. "And it wasn't even a good story to begin with."
"I haven't heard the story," Buttercup says, mostly to annoy Jennifer but also a little curious.
"Oh good! Ok, so it was back in first grade. I was seven and Craig was—"
"..a grown man." Mitch jokes.
"Fuck off; I was only held back once."
"Twice." Stevie quietly adds.
"Ha! Idiot!" Donnie laughs.
"Shut up! The fuck the two of you know anyway!"
"Anyway!" Lauren interjects, "As I was saying. It was in first grade…"
A buzzing in her back pocket distracts Buttercup. She pulls out her phone to see it's a phone call from Blossom. Buttercup is quick to end the call.
"… Obviously, I did not like him, and he didn't like me, but don't the best love stories start out that way?"
Another buzzing distracts Buttercup once more. This time a text. Where are you? When are you getting home? Buttercup frowns at her phone. She doesn't want to answer, and she usually doesn't, but she probably should. She's supposed to make everything appear like it's normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Blossom may think she's just being rebellious, but Bubbles is more suspicious. That same night that Buttercup went back to the Rot, Bubbles had gotten so…serious and started asking her all these questions. Where were you? How are you feeling? Do you want to talk about anything? Have you eaten? That last question was specially asked with some attitude, very unusual for her typically bubbly baby sister.
Now even her coach is asking questions. It's starting to get out of hand. So, even though she doesn't want to, Buttercup knows it's best to humor her older sister a bit. She turns away from everyone else to text back her reply; she doesn't want everyone questioning who she's texting. It's one thing to answer to a parent—guardian in her case— another thing to answer to your older sister. Talk about embarrassing.
As she finishes her text, a loud engine sound catches her attention. She looks up just in time to see a black car speeding through the intersection. She drops her phone, stunned. It's the car. THE CAR. The black vintage charger with no license plates. The one that ran over that man. What the fuck is it doing here? What the FUCK! Is it following her? Taunting her?
But it's not possible. No. No. No! That car should not be here. It can't! Mitch said…he said…
"That car is probably a pile of junk by now."
She thinks back to the night of the accident.
"What do you mean he's dead? He can't be dead. Call an ambulance. Call the cops! Call somebody!"
"Buttercup…Buttercup!" Mitch yells, grabbing her and pulling her away, "We have to get out of here."
"What? We can't leave!"
"He's already dead!"
"Then we have to call the cops!"
"We can't call the cops."
"What…why…" Buttercup in her shock and disoriented state was easily dragged away by Mitch. She feels panic all over but manages to stay quiet for the first twenty minutes. It's once they pass a familiar street, the halfway point between her home and the auto shop that she realizes that what she saw wasn't a pizza binge induced nightmare but an actually real-life murder.
"What…what the hell just happened? Did we…I mean…was that…"
"Buttercup," Mitch says grabbing her shoulders roughly and forcing her to face him, "Listen to me. We didn't see anything, okay? We didn't see anything; we don't know anything. We're just two lost kids, and we're going home, and everything is going to go on like normal, got it?"
"What…what the fuck Mitch!" She yells, pushing him off her, "We just saw someone get run over. He's…he's dead. We have to call someone!"
"Buttercup we can't do that. I know it may not seem obvious to you, but that wasn't an accident. If we go to the cops someone—someone very dangerous—will be able to trace it back to us and then we'll be just as dead."
"What? No…that…that's not true! It can't—"
"Buttercup, look at me! It's very true. We. cannot. go. to. the. cops. Understand?"
Buttercup pauses, staring at the dead serious and frightful look in his eyes. "But…can't…I mean…what…what if…what if we call anonymously? I saw the car! I know the make and model! Maybe the cops can trace it down and—"
"Buttercup, that car is probably a pile of junk by now. There's no way the police will ever find it. Just forget this ever happened. It's for the best."
Buttercup argues some more, ranting and raving and altogether being quite hysterical, but Mitch holds on to her, steadying her. It's not until she feels the harsh and painful grip of his hands on her shoulders that she eventually tires herself out and drops the issue.
"That car is probably a pile of junk by now." Mitch's words echo in her mind. It should be a pile of junk. There should be no evidence. What the fuck is going on? Did someone see her?
"…And we've been together ever since." Lauren sighs.
"Ai Dios Mio! Did that satisfy your curiosity, Buttercup? Because I swear, we are never hearing that fucking story again."
Silence.
"Um, Buttercup?"
"Yo, Buttercup?"
"God, She probably wasn't even listening—Buttercup!" Jennifer yells, her already loud voice amplified.
Buttercup jumps, startled by all the attention. "Shit. Uhh…what?"
"You okay?" Mitch asks, giving her a confused look.
"Um…yeah…just got…a little distracted."
"You didn't hear my story, did you?" Lauren pouts. "And it was cute too!"
"Hardly," Donnie mumbles.
"Ooh! I get to tell it again…okay, so we met in the first grade—"
"No!" The whole table groans before breaking into laughter, which makes Lauren pout even more.
"It's been fun guys, but, uh, I gotta go…don't want to get grounded again. See ya' later. " She picks up her her phone and walks away as fast as she can. No one says anything, and they hardly look bothered by her leaving.
"Hey! BC, wait up!" She hears Mitch yell behind her. She turns around to see Mitch jog up to her, the rest of the group staring their way with mild interest. "I'll walk with you."
"It's cool. I can go home by myself."
"I know." Mitch agrees, shrugging his shoulders, "I just wanna come with." He walks forwards, not allowing her to argue further. She huffs but follows him anyway. After a few minutes of silence, he finally asks, "So…you okay?"
Buttercup snorts, "Question of the year."
"Sorry," Mitch says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "but you sort of spazzed back there. What happened?"
He says it casually but Buttercup can still pick up on the tinge of fear and worry in his tone. He's been so serious and so frightful since this whole mess started, and honestly, she just wants the old Mitch back. She wants to go back to the old, carefree Mitch, to before the dead guy, before the Rot, when it was just the two of them. She wants to go back to before she knew horrible shit like this happens to ordinary people, to a time where her biggest worry was winning a game and making sure her father noticed her. But she can't go back, and unlike Mitch, she can't pretend that nothing happened. It's eating away at her.
She thinks of Blossom—of what she would do. She may be uptight, bossy, and neurotic but she also saved someone's life. Blossom risked her life trying to get help. Blossom—Buttercup reluctantly admits—did something really badass and instead of gloating about it, she tried to downplay the whole thing and keep it to herself. At the time, Buttercup thought her sister was just being annoyingly modest because it's what a good, proper, girl would do. Now, she realizes that she tried to keep it to herself not out of modesty but out of respect for her family. So that they wouldn't worry.
She looks up at Mitch, his large puppy-dog eyes looking down at her with so much concern—so much burden.
If her rigid older sister can do something as reckless—as brave– as save someone's life, then she sure as hell can do the same.
"I got a text from my sister that my aunt was coming over. She usually doesn't come over, but if she sees that I'm not there, then I'll really be grounded. That's why I panicked—kinda lame actually." She chuckles a little at the end, making her lie all that more convincing. Whether Mitch saw the car or not doesn't matter. It's not fair to him, to drag him down with her, to make him worry any more than he already is. If he wants to put this whole mess behind him then fine. She's a good liar; she can pretend that everything is alright.
"Yeah?" Mitch questions, uncertainty in his gaze and tone. "Nothing else?"
"Nope." Buttercup answers as innocently as she can.
"Ok… well, you should probably hurry home. I don't want to slow you down. I'll catch you at school."
"Yeah, see ya."
She runs off, leaving Mitch behind. Come tomorrow she'll do a complete 180, she'll be energetic, present, she'll laugh when she is supposed to, kick goals when she is supposed to, not fall asleep in class—she'll be the picture of normalcy.
But mark her words, she will catch whoever killed that man, and she will make them pay.
Venus Grey prided herself on being a woman and more importantly being a competent woman. This, Brick noticed, is evident in the way the statuesque blond woman carried and dressed herself. She dressed professionally, but not the way an ordinary office mouse would, plain and drab. No, Ms. Grey's attire was tailor made, every stitch custom made to fit her exact measurements. Tight enough that a slight influx of weight would pop one of the delicate stitches. Ms. Grey was also beautiful. Beautiful in the typical way tall, white, skinny blond women are beautiful. The make-up helped only to enhance her natural features. Her walk was also one of confidence, albeit a bit forceful as she angrily strutted down the hall.
To find both beauty and confidence in a woman is rare and Brick would have found the young Ms. Grey all the more appealing if it wasn't for the venomous glare she threw at anyone—correction—any MAN that dare look her way. Everything about her screamed "Look at me! Look how beautiful and womanly I am but I also take myself too seriously, and I am not a piece of meat! How dare you ogle me, you caveman!" This over the top feminist attitude is one Brick had become accustomed to in the few interactions he's had with his father's secretary.
"What are you looking at?" said Blond spits as she continues her strut to her desk.
"You're late." Brick replies nonchalantly.
"Yes, well, like every other pin-brained, egotistical, inconsiderate male boss in the world your father thinks it a great waste of my time to fetch him coffee." She huffs, slamming the tray of hot beverages on her desk. "Did you know that his drink of choice is a chai latte? So pretentious."
"That is your job as a secretary. Fetching coffee."
"Assistant." She corrects, "I'm his assistant, and my skills go beyond fetching coffee."
"Right. Like answering calls and making appointments? Face it, Venus, you're a glorified receptionist, and the only reason you've lasted this long is because you refuse to sleep with the boss."
Venus glares at him, her furrowed brow and clenched jaw verbalizing everything she can't actually say to his face. "I wouldn't sleep with a man even if he paid me a million dollars."
"That good. All things considered."
"Yes, well, all things considered, if the world were a just and fair place this company wouldn't be run by that morally deprived—not to mention sexist—man."
"If it were up to you this place would be run by an equally morally deprived woman. That doesn't exactly make for a fair and just place. Sigh. You know the answer is quite simple, Ms. Venus, if you hate this place so much why don't you just quit?"
She scowls at him, her hatred of him, his father, and all men present in her icy blue glare. She can get away with giving a dirty look here and there with looks like hers, and it's not as if she's important enough that either Brick or his father care. Perhaps that is what bothers Venus most of all, that even with all her rants she'll never be important enough to matter or change anything. Despite what Venus thinks, it has nothing to do with the fact that she's a woman. There's also the fact that despite her preaching she's just as lazy and greedy as everyone else. Why would she quit when her job is easy and high-paying? She wouldn't. She's not as revolutionary or enlightened as she claims, nor brave enough to want to change things, which is why she gets so upset every time Brick brings it up. He's calling her bluff, and it blows up in her face every time.
"May I inquire as to why you're here?" She asks sarcastically.
"I have a meeting."
"With your father."
"With your boss. Now, would you tell him I've arrived as that is your job. I'm in a hurry."
"Please, like your father would ever show up to work before me. So excuse me, but hurry or not, you'll just have to wait for him."
"Ooh, that's not a very nice way to address our guests, Ms. Grey. Especially when said guests bares my name." A teasing voice rings out.
"Mr. Mercer! Sir! I'm sorry, I was just—"
"Kindly informing me that you had yet to arrive, father." Brick answers, slightly bowing his head in both greeting and respect.
"I'm sure." Mr. Mercer hums as he enters his office. A curvy brunette woman walks beside him, and both Brick and Venus follow. The office is large and lavishly decorated, making it appear like a place of fun and relaxation rather than a place of business, which, despite his father's ruthless business persona, fits his personality perfectly.
Hannibal Isaiah Mercer is no Morebucks, a rich businessman born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Brick's father had to claw his way up to the lavish lifestyle he has now and in enjoying the fruits of his labor his father likes to party as hard as he works. Drugs, women, men, expensive…everything they're all emblematic of his father—of HIM. Entering his office is like entering his world, and very few can say they've had the privilege of stepping inside, let alone more than once. Of course, since this man is the one who raised Brick, HIM isn't as scary or impressive as he appears to other people. Doesn't stop HIM from trying to intimidate his sons, however. Even now in the casualty of his own office, Brick's father feels a need to strike a power pose; standing slouched but firm over his center desk with a curvaceous woman by his side. Arms open as if he's relaxed, but his dark eyes narrowed on his eldest son.
Hannibal is a tall man with a harsh, stern looking face and large calloused hands. He's intimidating as is but Brick's father aspired to be more than a mean-looking thug, and thus HIM was born. HIM is suave, inviting, charming; he wears expensive and colorful suits and a seductive smirk on his face and all of a sudden the once mean-looking thug is transformed to Forbes most successful man of the decade.
He's a snake in sheep skin.
Venus pushes past Brick to hand out the cups of coffee. "Mines black." Brick says. Venus hands him his cup, her face staying neutral but the tense, red grip she has on his cup displaying how angry she is with everyone in the room. Tsk, if only she would head his advice and quit.
"You may leave, Ms. Grey." His father announces. Ms. Venus Grey, a proud, beautiful, and stubborn woman is reduced to a meek office mouse as she quietly scurries out of the office. It's depressing to watch but also very interesting. The power his father holds to be able to deconstruct a person and reduce them to nothing is quite…marvelous.
"Brick, to what do I owe the pleasure."
There's that familiar snake smirk. "I came to check in. I was hoping to report back last night, but you never showed up."
"Yes, well," His father starts, eyeing the beautiful woman at his side, " I don't visit the manor often."
"Boomer said as much."
"By the way. I'd like to introduce you to someone. Brick, this is Ima. She's a very very good friend of mine."
"I'm sure. Charmed."
"Likewise." Ima greets her voice as soft as silk. Her plump red lips curve into a smile. " You're the adopted son, right?"
"Right." Brick answers.
"So generous of Hannibal. But you know it's so funny, you guys look so much alike. You could pass as actual father and son." Ima states, a hint of teasing in her voice.
HIM laughs, a deep bellied laugh. "Considering I took him in as a baby, I don't see how that makes me any less his father. Biological or not." The two share a laugh, ignoring the very peeved redhead in the room. It's nothing he's never heard before, his uncanny resemblance to his adoptive father. So uncanny that he must be Hannibal Mercer's real son, right? They have the same dark eyes and stern face and now that's he's older they're practically the same height, but Brick doesn't think it's conclusive. Not enough to make the leap from adoptive to definitely blood-related. Yet, as he watches his father and new mistress share a laugh at an obvious inside joke, Brick can't help but wonder just how long this Ima lady has had her hooks in her father and just how much she actually knows.
"Funny. I was about to say you remind me of someone as well."
"Oh? Is it Angelina Jolie? I get that all the time." She gushes.
"No. Betty Santos."
The smirk falls right off his father's face. "Brick…"
"Who the hell is Betty Santos?"
"She's a stripper—was a stripper. I think she's a crack addict now, but she was quite beautiful before. Exotic looking too; tan, dark-curly hair, green eyes—darker than yours — but besides the obvious skin difference you look just like her. Enough to pass as siblings. My father was also generous enough to take in that poor woman's child. Maybe if Butch ever shows his face around here again, people will say you two look like actual mother and son."
Ima's half-lidded eyes narrow in fury. "I'm not old enough to pass as anyone's mother let alone a teenager. Or a crack whore."
"Of course not, baby." His father whispers into her ear, "Listen, Brick and I have to talk. Why don't you get out of here? I'll see you later."
Ima looks like she wants to argue but quickly decides against it. Smart. You don't stick around a man like HIM and expect to be heard or respected. Not when you look like she does. "Alright." She says, voice soft as silk once more. "I'll be at the penthouse." She struts out of the room and quietly closes the door after her. Another vivacious woman destroyed by his father.
"Sit." His father demands.
Brick does as he's told but not out of fear or respect, but out of appearance. After all, Brick is the oldest and most loyal son. Favored and groomed to eventually take over his father's company, so Brick has to make sure he plays his part well.
HIM sits across from Brick, trying to seem relaxed and unbothered by what he said. It's not like his father cares about Ima's feelings, but he doesn't like it when people bring up his past. "That's quite a first impression." HIM says.
"You're the one that always told me that a bad impression is better than leaving no impression at all."
"I did, didn't I. And it seems like you've already left quite an impression on your first day back."
"You mean Morebucks?" Brick groans.
His father laughs a giddy laugh, one he specifically reserves for the misery of others. "Yes. I had dinner with Mr. Morebucks last night, and it seems his Princess is already planning your wedding."
"Ughh," Birck scoffs. "Delusion."
"Now, Brick, I wouldn't be so quick to dismiss her. She can be pretty at times, but besides that think of the power and wealth you'd amass. The Morebucks are old money and being married into a family like that can guarantee you powerful connections."
"Yes, well, I only went out with her on accident. I was doing as you requested."
"Hmm, yes, and did you learn anything?" His father says, causally taking a sip of his coffee.
Brick stares at him, trying not to let his confusion show. "Honestly, father, I can't say I quite understand what your fascination is with this Blossom Utonium. All I gathered yesterday is that she's a normal girl—unremarkable, really. Also, rather poor if she has to work as a waitress, which last I checked the poor weren't of your concern."
"Poor no, but the Utoniums have always been a concern of mine. Besides, it's only been one day. I don't expect you to learn everything about the girl in one day."
"That might be true, father, but it would help if you told me what exactly it is you're looking for."
His father just stares while taking sips of his coffee. If the scene were taken out of context it would almost seem like an innocent meeting between father and son; just a father catching up with his son whose been away at boarding school for the last six years. But it's not. It's a test. A test of loyalty and Brick is the test taker. Clearly, his father doesn't trust him, not enough to tell him what's going on or why he wants this Blossom girl followed. Worst of all, Brick isn't even sure if this whole thing is real. His father could be sending him on a fool's errand just to prove a point. Waiting to see if Brick is the loyal son he appears to be.
"Did you hear about the Utonium death? The father, I mean."
"Yes, I've heard."
"Then you know that his eldest, Blossom—as well as his other daughters I imagine—are in mourning. Such a sad state to be in when one is so young. She'll need a friend, someone she can lean on, someone she can trust. I want you to be that friend, Brick."
Why? Why? Why! Why must he waste his time on this girl? Why is she important? Is she really important? All these questions and more spring to Brick's mind, but the test had already started, and his father won't like him asking for help. Therefore, Brick does as is expected of him. "Yes. Of course father. I'll be the best friend that girl ever had."
HIM's snake-like smirk returns, seemingly pleased with himself he relaxes back in his seat. "Good. Remember, if she says anything interesting or worth repeating, you tell me. Got it?"
"Crystal." Brick checks his watch, "I should go. School starts soon." He gets up to leave when his father interrupts him.
"Oh, and Brick, one more thing."
"Yes, sir?" Brick answers, playing his part of doting, loyal son perfectly.
HIM's snake smile stretches farther, pleased with his son's actions. "Remember, I did say friend. So, don't go falling for the girl. I've heard she's quite the beauty but if you want to sleep with her, you'll just have to restrain yourself."
Brick snorts, "Beauty? More like nervous train wreck. As I said, she's unremarkable."
His father merely cocks an eyebrow and remains silent. With nothing left to say Brick leaves, ignoring Ms. Grey's hateful eyes as he does.
Morgan Joseph Joel Jones stares up at the large imposing building with a sense of dread and nervousness.
"Curses…" He mutters. "What is taking him so long?"
In truth, Morgan did not want to be here, no he'd rather be anywhere but here. Preferably a lab, although that dream too went out the window quite a while ago. Instead, he must wait here, like a good lapdog, for his charge to return. The futility of it all was utterly annoying as it was depressing.
The sunlight reflects off the large gold letters on the HIM building, blinding him for a second. "Curses." He mutters again, referring not to the glare but to the man who lives up there in his ivory tower. The man who has made his life a living hell and relegated him— Morgan Joseph Joel Jones a brilliant scientist and mathematician— to nothing more than a glorified babysitter. Morgan rues the day he ever met HIM. Though Morgan is reluctant to admit it in his furious state, he does admit that it is ultimately his own fault that he's stuck in this dead-end job. After all, it was Morgan who sought HIM out in the first place. Of course back then HIM held so much promise. HIM seemed like he was going to change the game, make things different, and Morgan just fresh out of college had so many ideas, all he needed was financial backing. However, instead of the notoriety and riches that Morgan envisioned for himself, he received mockery and disrespect. Now, nearly two decades later, nothing has changed.
Between all his sulking a tall redheaded boy rushes out of the building, clearly in bad spirits, rushes past the patiently waiting Morgan and into the parked black car. Morgan rushes to the other side of the car before the driver takes off without him, knowing full well his young charge would not hesitate to do such a thing, especially when he's in a bad mood. He gets in just as the driver pulls away.
"Cruses." He mutters as the car jolts him a bit. He puts his seatbelt on, settling him some.
"Hurry. I don't want to be late." Brick orders his driver, his usually emotionless voice replaced with an angry whine so typically of children his age.
"I take it the meeting didn't go well." Morgan dares to say.
Brick scoffs, "Do you also have a Ph.D. in pointing out the obvious, Morgan?"
Morgan merely rolls his eyes at the pathetic quip. Brick usually comes across as cold, calculating, and pretentious, which to an extant he is, but since Morgan is his caretaker and therefore knows Brick better than anyone else, he knows that the young boy is really no different than any other privileged teenager. Brick can be arrogant, hot-headed, whiny, and overly sensitive at times.
"What isn't so obvious—to me that is—is what your father told you. Now would be an apt time to share."
"HIM," Brick corrects, turning is angry dark glare from the road to the small man at his side, "You mean what HIM told me."
"Right, of course."
Brick sighs, "He didn't tell me anything. Not anything useful at least. To be honest, I think he's just stringing me along. Keeping me busy with this…Blossom girl, keeping an eye on me. I don't even know what he plans to do with me. I could have already lost his trust."
"Patience. He doesn't know what your…um…episode was about." Morgan says hesitantly, referring to the incident that got Brick kicked out of boarding school. "He could just think you need better discipline or his version of parental control."
Brick scoffs, "Right. If that were the case, then the meeting would have gone over very differently. The wall would have been painted red."
"You're not Butch." Morgan reassures, "More importantly, you're his legacy. His expectations for you are different."
Brick looks back at the short man, confusion written all over his face. "Why are you defending him? You hate HIM as much as I do."
"Because you're angry and young, which usually leads to impulsiveness and recklessness. Like I said, patience. You will have your revenge, but you can't expect to take down a powerful enemy like your fath—like HIM overnight. For now, all you can do is play the part of the perfect son. Do as he says, don't question, be respectful, be loyal. Once you have proven yourself and once his guard is down that's when you strike."
"I'm familiar with the plan." Brick answers arrogantly, "Perhaps you're right. I am being too impatient, but after what that man did to me…I can't wait until he gets what he deserves."
"Believe me, neither can I." And he really couldn't. Morgan has been dreaming of HIM's downfall since the second HIM dared to laugh in his face and give him his horrible, demeaning nickname, Jojo. Of course, all his dreaming was exactly that—dreams, horrid fantasies he indulged in over the years as he was kept away from science to look after a bratty boy. A boy that wasn't even his to begin with. But now after the great injustice that was done to the young Mercer it looked like his plans were finally going to come to fruition. The best part was that it wasn't even Morgan who initially had the idea for revenge.
Brick in the midst of the emotional turmoil his father had caused had come up with the revenge plot. Morgan guided a bit and definitely jumped on board to help. After all, it was he who convinced HIM that bringing Brick home to Townsville was what was best for the "troubled" teen. Morgan suspects HIM knew of what brought on Brick's sudden episode, which is why it was crucial for Brick to build up his trust and reputation with his father. HIM may be playing games with his oldest right now but due time HIM will forget and forgive, and he'll let his favored son back into his good graces again. Like he told Brick, they just had to be patient.
"Turn right here." Brick orders the driver.
Morgan looks around confused, "Where are we going? I thought you didn't want to be late for school?"
"A necessary detour." Brick answers, his voice emotionless once more, " You're right. We have to be patient, but we can't let HIM have the upper hand while we twirl our thumbs and do nothing. Stop here." The car stops in front of a giant old-looking building.
"Where are we?" Morgan questions.
"The library. I want you to dig up any dirt that you can find on HIM. It might prove useful in the future."
"Me? Why don't you do it?"
"Because I'm busy. I have classes to pass and a girl to stalk. Now get out. You're making me late."
Morgan reluctantly exits the car, muttering the whole time. He looks up at the library feeling at a loss. "Where do I even start?" He yells.
Brick rolls down his window, "Start with Utonium."
"Why—"
Morgan is cut off as Brick rolls his window up and the car speeds away. Morgan turns back around and looks up at the building, the sunlight reflecting off the windows and causing a glare.
"Cruses…"
Buttercup should be an actress—no, that's lame— she should be a detective or an undercover cop. Yeah, that's way more badass. She feels sort of like a badass right now. Paranoid and stressed, but a badass none-the-less.
It's been a few days since the night at Bob's Burgers. Everyone thought she was bugging a little bit, but over the last few days, she's been able to convince everyone, including Mitch and her sisters, that she is A-okay. Even her coach thinks she's back to normal. Like she said, she should be an actress. Because despite what everyone thinks, she is not at all okay.
She's is stressed the fuck out.
God, she feels like Blossom. Is this what Blossom feels on the daily? She's starting to understand why her sister is such a pain in the butt.
Buttercup has been out almost every night looking for that damn car. It's been hard. Between soccer, work, Mitch, and her sisters, finding a time to sneak out and go looking has not been easy. It would have been so much easier if she could go the police. She considered it at first, now that she knew the car was still in one piece, but well, with no body and no idea about the identity of the dead man she wasn't sure what more the police could do. Would they even be able to tie the car to the murder? Maybe, but she's sure she'd have to reveal her identity and testify in court for that to happen.
And she wasn't going to do that.
It's been two months since the incident with Blossom and the gangsters and had the police found them? No. Two months and Blossom hadn't heard a thing. Buttercup isn't blind. She sees what the not knowing is doing to her sister. She's even more anxious than normal. Luckily, Blossom works well under pressure. Buttercup, on the other hand, does not. She can't wait around, hoping that the cops may or may not get the bastards that did this. She's worried sick thinking about it now. She can't take feeling that way for the months—years— it could take the police to solve the case.
So that's why Buttercup is going at it alone. It's why she's out in the Rot by herself looking for the fucking car. She figures if she can find the car, she can find the people responsible. Maybe she can even find out the name of the person they ran over. She'll document everything on her phone. Send it to the police anonymously and boom—no more sleepless nights. No more bad guys. Justice is served.
It's foolproof.
Unfortunately, she hasn't had any luck finding the damn car yet. It doesn't help that it's pitch dark out when she goes looking nor that the car is black and makes it darn near invisible under cover of night. That's why today, Buttercup decided to change her strategy. She needs to search in the daylight. Of course with school that wouldn't be possible, unless, she was able to stay home from school for let's say…being sick.
So yeah, it's the oldest trick in the book, but it's a classic for a reason. It works. The hardest part really would be tricking Blossom into believing she was actually sick. Buttercup decided that faking a cold would be perfect; she could fake being sick for a few days and continue her daytime search. But in order to fake a cold, she would need to have a fever and chills. She'd need to be warm and cold at the same time. Yeah, that should be easy.
What she ended up doing was taking a few hand warmers and tying them around her head. Then she woke up before everyone else—which was extremely difficult, she has no idea how Blossom does that everyday—and took an icy cold shower. It was so cold she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. The fan was running in her room to make sure she kept shivering for the next 30 minutes. To top it all off, Buttercup even ate half a strawberry. She's not exactly allergic to strawberries, but they make her throat itch. A necessary evil if she was going to pull this whole being sick thing off.
"Buttercup! Let's go we're going to be late!" And there it was, Blossom's 5-minute warning for Buttercup to get up. If she yelled back, her sister would leave her alone, but if she stayed quiet…
SLAM
"Buttercup? Are you up?" Her older sister asks, barging into her room as usual. Buttercup should really invest in a lock.
"Uggghhhh…" Buttercup fake moans, "I don't feel so good."
Her sister sighs irritably, which was to be expected, "Buttercup if this is some stunt to get out of going to school…"
"Uggghhhh…no, I wanna go. I have practice. I just don't feel…good."
"Right. Like I believe that." Blossom reaches out a hand and places it on Buttercup's head, "I'm sure you're fine—oh, you do feel a little warm, and your face is flushed. How do you feel?"
"I'm cold. And my throat itches." Buttercup answers, her voice coming out raspier than usual.
"You're shaking." Blossom points out as if just noticing. "Maybe we should take you to see the doctor."
"What? No!" Buttercup yells, startling her sister. "I mean. That's a waste of time. It's probably just a cold. I'll be fine if I sleep it off and there's cold medicine in the medicine cabinet."
"Hmmm…I don't know. I still think we should take you to the hospital."
"But…but…um…you'll be missing school, and I don't want you to miss school on a count of me. Think of your perfect attendance."
"Well…" Oh! Her sister is so going to cave. "I don't know. Are you sure you'll be fine?"
"Positive. I just need some rest is all."
Blossom still doesn't look happy with the whole situation. "Ok, if you're sure. But call me if you need anything or if you start to feel worse. Also, make sure you actually get some sleep. I don't want you playing video games all day. Oh, and read the directions on the cold medicine before taking it. I don't want you accidentally taking too much."
"Got it. I will. Now get out of here before you or Bubbles are late."
Blossom bites her lip in worry before reluctantly leaving her room.
"One last thing." Blossom calls out, "There's leftover food in the fridge, but I'll bring you some hot chicken soup from the diner tonight."
"Ok. Thanks!"
Blossom finally leaves, closing the door after her. Buttercup waits to hear the slam of the front door closing before standing up. She rushes to her window to see her sisters leaving for school. She waits in her room for another fifteen minutes for fear that either of her sisters might come back. Either Blossom to check if she's really sick (doubtful since it would maker her late for school) or Bubbles because she forgot something (happens too often for a girl at her age).
She leaves soon after that, and that's how she finds herself here in the middle of the Rot in broad daylight. Is it weird that she feels more scared being out here in the day than at night? On the one hand she can see better, which is great for finding mysterious murder cars and spotting people that may want to hurt her (also for taking pictures of said murder cars) but on the other hand, it's easier for other people to see her and that's really unsettling.
She's been cautious though. Making sure she sticks to shaded areas and that she avoids walking by windows or other people. She's not sure if Mitch is still stalking the area and doesn't want him to find out she's still coming out here by herself. She's also avoided going back to the scene of the crime at all costs for fear that someone might recognize her. Not that going back would do her any good; there's no evidence left.
If she's honest, she doesn't really have a plan for finding the car. It's mostly been her wandering around looking for abandoned cars and car lots. She figures that if the people who ran over that man still have the car, then they'd store it in some type of garage. The only problem is that these garages would be well hidden and probably filled with these murderous bad guys. So…
How the fuck was she going to find this car?
God, she's only been out here for a few hours, but she's already starting to feel hopeless. The heat wasn't helping either. It was so damn hot! It wasn't even noon yet. Why is it hotter in the Rot? Is the portal to hell located here? And where the fuck is the car! Ugh! Frustrated by the heat and lack of progress Buttercup kicks over a nearby trashcan. As the plastic bin falls to the floor a pair of spiders fall, out crawling around widely over the pile of trash on the floor. Buttercup screams bloody murder and backs away as far she can before her back hits a parked car. Unfortunately, her yell has gathered the attention of some people.
"Yo, you heard dat?"
"Yeah…what you think it is?''
"Think someone is getting jacked?"
"Dog, I don't know but let's check it out."
Buttercup hears the group approaching, and she crouches down and hides behind the car. She can see a group of feet walking past her.
"I thought I heard it come from over here."
"Nah, there's nothing here. It must be over there."
The feet keep walking past her until they round a corner and are eventually gone. Buttercup sighs in relief and leans back against the car. That's when she notices the car at her side is a total junk of a car—rusted paint job, broken windows, flat tires— probably still functional to someone if it hasn't been reduced to a pile of spare parts by now.
Shame. Buttercup thinks. It's a vintage Volkswagen. Those parts are rare to find.
And like a light bulb turning on, something clicks. Vintage parts. Vintage parts are hard to find. Duh! It's so obvious. The car she's looking for is vintage therefore it needs vintage car parts, and there's only one place in town you're guaranteed to find vintage spare parts. Well, it's really the only place you can find vintage spare parts for free, so it's a long shot, but for the first time, she actually has some clue about where those bastards could be hiding, and she's going for it.
She gets up with renewed energy, running towards her destination. It takes her longer to get there than she expected, having gotten lost wandering around the Rot. Finally, she reaches the entrance of Mulligans, an old car dealership from the 60's. It wasn't a successful business, and it was doomed to fail due to its location. It's a little hidden, and it cradles the line between the Rot and Downtown. When the dealership eventually closed down a lot of abandoned cars were left on its lot, and it eventually became a junkyard. The junkyard too eventually closed down due to its small size and a larger one was opened up in another part of the Rot.
At Mitchelson's Garage and Spare Parts they usually get their spare parts from the abandoned cars around the garage or from the large junkyard in the Rot. Buttercup, however, prefers Mulligans, not only because it's closer to the garage but because it's a treasure trove of rare parts.
She walks in pass the gate, which has been left unlocked. Odd. Buttercup usually has to squeeze through the gate because it's locked at all hours. That means someone picked the lock and if her hunch is correct that someone could be the bastards she's looking for. She walks around the scraps of metal on the floor, careful to not make a sound. It's hard as there are car parts on literally every inch of this place. As she walks through the junkyard looking for the murder car she spots a patch of dirty entirely clear of any metal. As she walks closer she notices that it's two identical patches of dirty that look exactly like…
"Tire marks." She whispers. She follows the path until just a few feet away from her she spots the car. The CAR. The murder car. "Holy shit!" She found it; she can't believe she actually found it. Oh, my God. This is amazing! This is also fucking scaring! She should so be a detective! "Get a grip." She mutters to herself before taking a deep breath of air. She takes out her phone and starts taking pictures of the car parked in front of her. Then she stills, pausing to see if someone with a gun is going to come out of the dark and shoot her for knowing too much. After a minute of that not happening, Buttercup thinks it safe to further investigate.
"Damn." She whistles. She normally doesn't associate beauty with cars, but that's exactly what this car is—a beauty. It's a 1970's black Dodge Charger. The paint could use a few touch ups, and the rims are a bit outdated but other than that it really is an impressive car. As she gets closer, taking pictures all the while, she notices the license plate which reads BRZERKR.
"Brzerkr? Berserk?" Strange, and she doesn't mean the odd vanity plate, she means the fact that the car didn't have any license plates before. Bravely, she peers inside the car through the darkened windows, but can't make out anything inside. She steps away and goes to the front of the car to inspect it. As expected there isn't a single dent or scrape on the hood of the car. No evidence to point to a hit and run. She takes a picture regardless. She then looks under the car, hoping to find something. She doesn't see anything but takes a picture anyway. Because it's dark under the car the flash goes off and that's when she sees it, it's small and easy to miss, but she's sure she knows what it is.
"Hair…"
"What the fuck are you doing?" A booming voice startles her causing her to bang her head on the underside of the car and fall flat on her ass. She looks up, temporally blinded by the sun to see a shadow of a tall, hulking man standing over her. She clears her vision as fast she can, all the while slowly dragging herself backward and away from this behemoth. Just as her vision clears, she looks up to see that it's not a man staring down at her but a boy, a mammoth of a boy, but a boy nonetheless. He leans forward, close enough that Buttercup can see the green of his eyes and holy fuck does he look pissed.
"I said what the fuck do you think you're doing?" He growls.
Shit.
She is so dead.
Author's Note!
I was suppose to post this on Sunday…darn am I bad at deadlines. Anyway, yeah! I had so much fun writing this chapter especially Brick's parts. He's going to be an interesting character to write. Anyway, not much to say other than I hope you guys like the chapter. Now we're really getting this plot going! I'm just as excited for the next chapter as you guys are!
Also, there was an increase in favorites and follows since last chapter! I'm so excited people are liking the story. So I want to say BIG THANK YOU to these people who either favorited or followed the story (or both!): N. Risa, V-up, DaringDinkyDo, RedRiderBreaker, STFUSAM, sirenmergirl.
Reviewer Acknowledgments
Guest: Haha! Thank you! I glad to see some one as excited for this story as I am. And yes, I do plan on writing a shit more chapters. It's going to be a long story. I hope I wrote this chapter fast enough!
STFUSAM: Thank you! Is it bad that I agree with you? I don't want to be greedy. Just knowing that people are reading my story is a huge honor. Although I would like more people to tell if the story is any good…anyways! Thanks again!
sirenmergirl: Thank you! The plot will get a little busy with such a large cast of characters but I'm glad you're enjoying it so far!
I also wanna give a SUPER GIAGANITC THANK YOU to Carriedreamer for adding my story to the awesome community PowerPuff Girls Anonymous. I am so honored to be a part of a community amongst my most favorite PPG fiction! Thanks again!
Alright guys! See ya next time! Mucho Love!