3/17/16 All chapters are being revised and edited. Expect new chapters by next week!
Careful Blues
Start of a Possible Victory
She reminded him of a queen from England in her pearls and slim dress. Blossom had the hour-glass figure to grace herself into any elegant silk. The glistening material of the dress draped over her shoulders held by skinny straps. It brushed her inviting hips, a part of her matured body that made Professor think twice about taking her out to dinner. Even with the rush of second thoughts, he couldn't take his admirable eyes off his daughter. There was no other woman as intelligent and independent as Blossom.
His forceful, brute daughter hadn't dressed for tonight's formal dinner appropriately. She instead leaned on her tacky style of sport shorts with a subtle dress shirt. Nothing with glitter, jewelry, or the dreadful color of pink. Her jet black hair grew long enough to be tied into a bun that for Professor, passed the test of formal he expected from Buttercup. For him, it succeeded in taking the attention away from her athletic shoes that sported more tears than style. And for Buttercup, this outfit hadn't bothered her one bit.
Then there was his loveable, growing daughter—literally. Her enlarging belly had reached its limit as they entered the last month. This dinner was reserved for a gift for his blonde baby, Bubbles. After the second month, he had forgiven himself for failing in protecting her innocence from thieves. Whoever stole the very thing she held dear, then leave him as a father to deal with himself for being incapable of tracking him down thus leaving him to run free, would surely be deep underground if Professor ever encountered the boy. He had left his gorgeous daughter to weep alone, grow alone, and bond alone. Attempting many times to encourage her to tell him the boy's name, Bubbles never spoke a syllable of a male name.
None of that mattered after he fell in love with a grandchild he still hadn't held. The child slept in her stomach under a shiny, gray dress. Her maternity figure was compellingly complimenting. Bubbles harbored her young features longer than her sisters. A button nose, a soft complexion, and gentle blonde strands, made a promise to preserve her youth well beyond her days. Professor, with a calling arm, allowed for Bubbles to snugly latch onto it with her own. He lead her out of the home followed by his other beauties.
That may have been the last memory he resurfaced to with a grin. As he turned a sharp corner to enter the hospital grounds, he let the happiness of the memory's air become shadowed with worry. His wrinkled forehead made it clear he now had an essential task at hand. Throwing open the vehicle door and caring not to slam it shut, he ran to confront the broken automatic doors of the hospital. Bent from top to bottom and littered with shattered glass, he carefully entered. His heel crushed the already fragile glass as he looked to both sides before searching for any sign of his blonde daughter.
Something twisting in his stomach told him she was taken. But recalling the earlier moments, he noted that he hadn't seen any sign of her when Butch and HIM appeared on grounds. Buttercup was thrown out of the window, possibly protecting her from the uncontrollable beast. His heart pounded with hope that she escaped whatever fight broke out in her room. Or from any sinister plan of HIM's. Nearing the end to the first hall without coming by Bubbles, he began to pant in rising panic.
He should have taken an elevator, or the stairs, to the top floor to begin his search there. But her worried she might have traveled to a different floor during the chaos. He would risk nothing at finding his loving Bubbles. He only prayed she would be in one piece and alive. By the tenth floor, he had dropped twice in frustrating, tragic sobs. His heart never ended the beating of his hope, and through both devastating cries, he picked himself back up. He would come out of the hospital with his daughter.
Then, reaching the final, highest floor, he faced a shocking scene. Bubbles, her back still and her body fallen, lay beside the wall of the corridor. Running like he's never ran before, he dropped to her side in a desperate try to wake her. Her flesh felt cold and wet with her lips chapped. He softly tapped her cheek only to realize she hadn't taken one breath since he arrived. Shouting for help, he rocked Bubbles' heavy body in his arms. The notion somehow made him believe it comforted her enough to wake her.
"Oh, please, don't let this be happening to me...," he rubbed his falling tears against her cheek, "I can't... Why didn't I... oh, baby..., no,"
A sudden voice echoed, "Put her down,"
Snapping his head into its direction, he froze at its identity. His desperation may have created an illusion of hope it in a twisted way. A man, possibly his dying daughter's age, stood masked with a dark expression a distance away. Professor stuttered on a reply, coming to point out the man's blonde, shaggy locks, loose, blue shirt, and fastened sneakers. He surely was no doctor or nurse. He began to raise a hand, fooling the Professor into feeling nothing of it from his distance.
But the rising hand only proved to break through limits as it charged a spark of lightening. Professor held Bubbles closer, picking her up along with him. The man's palm charged a wary ball of lightening, and with no choice but to run, the Professor took off with Bubbles. His occupied hands slowed his speed and the man made a clear throw of a strike of lightening to his running figure. Connecting like a tazer gun's pinch, the Professor jerked in sudden twitches before hitting the tiles.
"Even if I didn't need to hit you grandpa," the man's nearing voice had a small raspy touch, "I still would have done it to feel great,"
His body still twitched from the lightning's effects. Unable to protect Bubbles' limp figure, the man lifted her up from the fibers on her head. Uncaring to her already succumbing life, he made to touching her back with his charged palm. Gathering all his strength, the Professor coughed a single word that deterred the man from making his daughter suffer more than what he must have already done to her.
"If I don't kill her, she'll give birth to my mistake," he turned back to her back, "And she'll only keep plaguing my mind for the rest of my life. This will be the end to everything,"
Now wasn't the time to let the information cause Professor a stroke. Although he felt his heart racing at a critical pace, he could only beg through his coughs to tell him that she no longer held the child. Her limp body suddenly came to life as the bolt shot through her. Professor now shed tears of sorrow as he witnessed Bubbles' lips spread open to let out suffering screams. That same, regretful feeling stabbed at his heart. He was worthless for allowing the same thief to not only steal her innocence, but manage to get so far as to taking her own life along with it.
"You have grown to become powerful,"
Bubbles fell limp as the man jolted to face another unsuspecting voice.
"But with your level of stupidity, your powers are shamefully wasted, Boomer,"
He sprung up, dropping Bubbles by her handful of hair, "Father!"
"I am no longer your father, I have decided as I watched your pathetic display to detach myself from that title when it comes to you," the light voice was no guessing game, "Instead, I've decided to be the father to your son,"
Professor's shaking hand found itself on Bubbles' wrist. The two took no notice to the movement, and Professor thankfully shed a single tear as he felt a small beat from her stricken vein. She was alive, barely, but alive. The devil had somehow saved a life with his intrusion.
"You idiot, why else do you think your whore was weak? You missed the birth of your son and take out your anger on HIS' mother!"
"I want nothing to do with it! Kill it or I will!"
"You dare threaten my boy?" the devil cut Boomer's cheek with a swift strike of his claw, "I will have you killed if you dare to interfere with my plans,"
"I don't threaten, I kill,"
Taken by his response, HIM grinned, "It's too bad the whore is still alive,"
"I will kill her if you—"
Speaking with a lion's roar, HIM lashed out, "I am not here for you! You are headed straight for hell after your doom and in this life, I will not affiliate myself with a monkey's toilet creation!"
Bubbles faced her father with squinting eyes. They were open, hardly lifting fully, but she managed to comfort her beating father with forgiveness in her bright ocean. All the brutality she had just endured from Boomer's arrival, she still felt the greatest pain from the loss of her son. Perhaps a mother's bond, she could sense her son's despair. He belonged masked in his mother's scent and not around the fires of hell, in the arms of the devil himself.
HIM bent at the knee to whisper into Professor's ear, "I am here for the famous scientist,"
Boomer made to attack his father out of fury, but the devil surrounded himself and the Professor in his teleporting smoke. With the contact of her father's hand gone from her own, she hiccuped in torture. Her lifting ocean would soon spill from both the loss of her father and son. There was no sign of happiness anytime soon, especially under the glare of her mistaken lover. He had no one else to let his fury torture for release and he turned to finally end her life in one blow. Bubbles closed her eyes, knowing she wouldn't muster the might to reverse any damage he'd bring onto her. This was the last battle, the last tear, and the last tragedy she would ever have to face.
Chemical X granted Buttercup the energy to remove herself from her uncomfortable living furniture. He still slumbered with his cuts and various incisions healed. All except his punctured limbs, which Buttercup had no plans of retrieving. She flew as far as she could from Butch, making sure he remained in sight. Her bruises still hadn't healed; their heart beats had disturbed her practice of different punches and kicks and left her to sit to recover fully.
She needed one more bruise before being able to train for another round. She pondered whether she should train with Butch as her doll. Finally realizing she hadn't had a good battle in a very long time, she spared him of his reckless usage. Being who she was, she appreciated a forceful battle that challenged her to push herself harder to do better. There were no more bullies to fight off in school, no more thieves to beat, and no more criminals to fight. Butch, to her knowledge, was the last opponent she had.
Lost in her thoughts, Buttercup returned to reality due to a large, metal arm swinging straight through the concrete walls and glass of the building. She hadn't thought when jumping to her feet to fly out of there and hadn't thought twice when taking Butch's body with her. The sound and escape had awoken Butch, the glass shards' punctures stinging as Buttercup ripped each one from his limbs in rapid pulls. Taking her unplanned rescue as an attack, he head butted her.
Had he not just woken up from a deep sleep, his head butt would have sure had the power to drop her to the ground. But his slightly weakened move had only given her a blazing head ache. A metal wall crashed into the ground as Buttercup and Butch flew into the wall's grab. Her blazing headache now became an intensified headache, with Butch preparing to connect his fists with her aching head. Buttercup caught Butch's fist in her hand, going against his force with her contradicting one. He felt renewed from his slumber and could smell the drive of blood filling every crevice of his body.
"Butch, lay a fist on her and I will make sure you feel double that with this!" If it weren't for the appearance of Mojo, the once robotic hand now assembled into a giant gun made of thousands of pistol nuzzles would have caught Butch's attention.
The grown ruff meet the primate's eyes with betrayal and confusion. His look made Mojo swallow a permitting nod as he glared down to his creation. Not once breaking or blinking, Mojo lowered the many pistols close to Butch's view. Threatening Butch was a daring call, as he took pride in his abilities to tear a part all threats, literally. Butch stared in shock until a smirk slapped it away. He hadn't confronted a battle with a synthetic challenger before. Now that his creator gave him an opportunity, he gladly, wickedly felt the need to take it all for it's worth.
Blasting out of Buttercup's hold, Butch's fist outstretched to punch a cracking blow to the robot's glass dome that enclosed the primate. Mojo's robot jerked from the brute force, surprised at the outcome of the traveling cracks throughout the glass. He had specifically designed this capsule to be bullet proof, and possibly damage proof of any attack that came its way. Butch was now its only attacker that the resilient glass could not handle.
"Stop this right now!"
Butch brought on his speedy, dealing fists down to the cracking glass. Just one more punch would send the cracks free and there would be no protective shield between Mojo and Butch. The older ruff acted upon a sugar rush of aggression and Mojo sensed he wouldn't spar him any injury. Buttercup speed toward Butch, knocking him away from the glass with a swift kick. He made a groan as he crashed into the street below.
She glared at Mojo, "What are you doing you stupid monkey!"
"I will not accept that name! You will call me—!"
Butch's hit came in a flash, Mojo having no time to register which attack he used. The ruff was that quick, strong, and ruthless. Both super adults fought back and forth in the skies, giving the other no pause to grip the upper hand. Buttercup kicked a leg up from in between his own but the ruff stopped the connection in a matter of seconds. He twisted her knee in his hand, causing an uncomfortable crack and a shriek from Buttercup. He found that he enjoyed her pain more than he enjoyed her rising anger.
Heaving over a hunched back, Brick had done all he could to prevent the blonde from launching his way into Townsville. If the blonde made it to Townsville, he would see it fit to join in on their battles, and Brick wanted no liability fighting on his side. But in this healing phase, Brick couldn't injury himself much more by trying. As he assumed, Boomer put up a difficult fight, seeing his call of victory as a chance to escape to Townsville.
Brick's mind labored at making sense to Boomer's outbreak. When he revealed the leader of the puffs causing his damage, Boomer had no trouble with the information. Then, when Brick spit out the life of a new addition, Boomer became insane. To Brick, the reaction made so logical sense. He would expect an insane breakage of rage from Boomer from the very beginning of hearing the girls' names. He had been the one to run from them after a shameful loss, suggesting they train in the forest where the girls' would care not to search for them.
Brick had agreed after much thought. Training would possibly give them enough time to claim a victory. There was also the possibility of becoming stronger and much powerful than the girls'. If they had no mighty Rowdyruffs to battle for so long, they would surely assume they had disappeared entirely, and once they returned they would be defeated from their sheer battle strength. He now realized their escape at training hadn't given either an upper hand. Blossom still proved to be just as wise, strategical, and powerful.
He loathed the final analysis of Blossom during his healing. She must have seen their absence as a way to train for a new, even mightier enemy. She was thinking on his level just in a different sense, a sense that showed her an opportunity just as worthy as his. Rising through his coughing, Brick set forth to his hunting of the puff leader. He was certain that any sign of pink from the skies would ignite his revenge in milliseconds. She would have no time to retreat.
The smell of her blood attracted his lips to hers. Boomer savored the taste of spiked bitterness and warm fear. Its texture landed into the pit of his stomach to settle the nauseating boiling that began since the very first sight he saw of her. His memories, the final memories, haunted him with visions of her body. She panted, sweated, and gave in beneath him, allowing him for a victory of an unsettling kind. To Boomer's sick mind, Bubbles' current beaten, bloody body never failed in attracting him.
Her lip quivered as he captured its touch once more. She felt him kiss her roughly, although in reality it was a mere brushing connection. Bubbles had been left with such pain that even a light touch felt like a heavy punch. He continued to kiss her neck, collar bone, shoulders, and made his way down one arm. His tongue moistly cleaned her arms and shoulders, coming to her neck to ravish its many veins. This wicked affection was an attack on its own that presented greater pain.
To know that she once begged for this affection in her nightly dreams, she sobbed in his hold. He had given her enough grief. He had taken her with no remorse, abandoned her with a bastard child, and now took advantage of her damaged body. He had been given enough, more than what Bubbles ever wished to give him. She used any strength left to push a palm upon his rough chest. He stopped his unwanted affectionate tongue to look at her, taking in her pleading, silent objection. He stared at her for so long, Bubbles' body washed over with relief.
Boomer grabbed her wrist, yanking it above her head along with the other. He dug under her knees with his own to lift her legs up, their position burning her injured thighs. She yelped unable to free herself from his control. This victory, this sinister portrait of victory, was his new-found addiction. Only this control and power gave him a victory from his counterpart, and he was attracted to it more than beating her to a crumbling state. He tore her robe into pieces, running his hands all over a body that claimed defeat once. For the second time, he would see it ache in defeat once more.
Feeling his mouth, fingers and breath on every inch of her body made her chest rise in rapid huffs. His clothing against her bare skin added to the defining objection to his actions. He gripped her bottom tightly, finding her enlarged breasts the most earning of his hot saliva. She now closed her eyes, her sobs long gone. Her objection deepened and became an anger that rose in the heat she felt from his wicked touches. His lengthy attraction rubbing through his pants and brushing her inner thigh had been the last of his touches before Bubbles burst with a scream.
Impacting the side of his face with an unseen blow, Boomer was thrown off her rejecting body and into the wall. He steamed in the tight hold of the wall, setting his eyes on a risen Bubbles. Her limbs rushed with a might she familiar viciousness. Whether she would collapse from her sudden use of short energy by continuing on, or if she would be vulnerable in her nudity, she gave no wanting sign of returning to her position beneath Boomer. She was prepared to murder, prepared to do all it took to keep all that he stole.
Mojo pressed on various buttons to activate what resembled a large canon out of the robot's hand. Aiming it at the unaware enemies, he shot a giant ball of goo to their figures. Buttercup faced the ejection of the goo and knowing Butch faced opposite, she brought on a barrage of fists that he couldn't dodge. A final fist gave her an escape just in time to avoid the enclosing goo that wrapped around Butch. Having caught an object in its sticky grip, it hovered in the air with a raging Butch punching his way out. Mojo made to punching in more buttons, a code that pulled the goo back into the canon.
Butch fought through the goo, his lungs becoming tight. Buttercup watched as Butch's fists grew tired and his brows less emphasized. Unconscious and pulled into the canon, Mojo dropped the sticky ruff into the capsule. Buttercup caught the ginger hair of Blossom, speeding down to make it into the capsule. She flew in just in the crook of time as the glass sealed tight. Glaring over at Mojo, she closed her fists over his working hands, interrupting his input of buttons. He sucked in a breath at her grip.
She lowered her voice, "What do you think you're doing?"
The same question, now rearranged and demanding, squeaked an answer from Mojo, "Yor-your—the Professor!"
She loosened her grip, taking in his reply before crushing his knuckles, "What did you do to him?"
He shook his head, "I—help—HIM!"
"You're working for HIM?"
"Please!"
Blossom's cracked vocals became audible, "Buttercup..., let him go...,"
"Are you crazy? Look what he did to you!"
She gave a small shake of her head, "Leh—let him go...,"
Following Blossom's struggling orders, Buttercup released Mojo's near broken knuckles. He breathed out loudly, feeling his fingers stiff and unable to bend or move. He pressed a final button with his elbow to set the robot in motion. Buttercup glanced back to Blossom quickly, seeing a gentle nod from her sister.
She sought out details, "What is all this about, monkey?"
Mojo glared as he rubbed his knuckles against his fur, "Your father has asked me to do the impossible,"
"Why would the Professor ask anything of you? Why would you even do it?"
He kept his eyes to the skies, away from Buttercup's attention, "The last question is unknown even to me, the first is because we're all in a dire situation, unless I respect the Professor's beliefs in his plan,"
Buttercup raised a confused brow, "Plan?"
"While you two brutes were focused on killing each other, the city of Townsville went into a lock down mode. I was watching the news as they showed all the citizens taking cover in their homes, warning the listeners to remain indoors. That's when your father called, begging me to help him in protecting you,"
"He wouldn't beg to you!"
"But he did, brat, his ridiculous care of your cursed existence brought him to stupidly ask of my protection!"
"Then why is Blossom beaten and Butch in the same air as us if you're doing as our father says to 'protect' us!"
He suddenly smirked, "I found Blossom in that state, and Butch is important to your father's plan,"
Buttercup took a step forward, "How?"
"Actually, I do have an answer to your prior question," Mojo's orbs squinted at the flash of a red streak, "Without the tension between you brats, HIM won't stand a chance, and eliminating him from killing us all will be almost too easy,"
Buttercup held onto the handles of Mojo's seat as he set the robot's jet engines into place. As the robot shot up, she finally understood the plans of her father. Turning to Blossom, she gave a repeat of her gentle nod. Glancing to Butch, Buttercup sank into the minor details of the Professor's plans. They were impossible; she felt uncomfortable in Butch's hold, and knowing she would need to create a team with Butch, she knew well it would be worse than his warmth.
Tied by his wrists and ankles, the Professor was left with his mouth unchained. The devil bounced his grandson in his arms, his newborn face hidden from Professor's wandering eyes. The scientist was looking on at any chance to see his grandson's gentle, resting face. His cheeks were chubby and his body seemed to maintain much baby fat. The Professor wondered how the moments leading to his creation occurred if the father was set on murdering Bubbles.
"I see you want to view the child?"
The Professor snapped up to the painted lips of the devil. He nodded once, a cautious nod that planted a mischievous grin on the devil's face.
"Wish granted," he lowered his arms to let the Professor lay eyes on a calm infant.
He could see his daughter's features on his face, his button nose small and barely defined. The devil smiled, "Now that I've obliged to you, you must obey me,"
The Professor came inches away from HIM's hot breath, "You will study this child and tell me all I need to know to destroy your plan of saving Townsville by turning those boys against me, and if you dare lie to me on any collected information, I will kill you."