Fiendish Reunions
Summary: After years of unsuccessful fights with those three super-heroines, a group of villains are reacquainted and thus a new wave of evil has begun. A Bad Four centric story which takes place twelve years after the show.
Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own the Powerpuff Girls. They are the creation of Craig McCracken and also licensed to Cartoon Network.
Author Notes: This idea came to me from reading some posts in a Powerpuff Girls forum, where the Beat-Alls where mentioned getting back together. Coupled with the fact that there's nearly all RRB/PPG fics in first couple of pages (and beyond), it felt like a good idea. Having only seen glimpses of "Meet the Beat-Alls" and although liking the actual Beatles, I am not a super-fan of them and therefore the reason why this story won't be riddled with Beatles references, though I might slip some in now and again. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this despite the short prologue as it will get longer as I go on. Any criticism is welcomed and reviews would be nice. Anyway, enjoy the story.
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It was a quiet, peaceful night.
He looked upwards at the darkened sky, out his window, and to the stars. After being alone for a lot of time in his Observatory, Mojo Jojo was used to the silence and was actually very grateful for it. Without noise, his train of thought could be kept clear and consistent - with all of his ideas swimming around in his big brain, there had been some difficulty in pinpointing just one to focus on. But not on this night, in the secluded confines on top of the volcano.
Mojo Jojo didn't want to face the reality of it. For over a decade, he had been locked in the same routine going in and out of jail so many times that they seemed to blend in together in one hazy memory. Those girls, those blasted damned girls, were always the victorious ones whenever he battled against them and from what he heard over the news, lots of other villains seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Some, mostly small-time criminals such as the Amoeba Boys and the Gangreen Gang, weren't even bothering anymore, too lost in what had been and what could have been to do anything about it.
And amidst the nostalgia, the simian could only sum up one thought.
He was growing old.
Shaking his head as if to forget the years gone past, the evil genius loaded up his laser gun, that even worked after twelve years of battling and being destroyed and being recreated. In his opinion, it was fine weapon and had fared against the super-powered trio better than his other inventions. And, in a rare moment of sentimentalism, he remembered using this very gun on one of his first heists. Such a fitting weapon for the task at hand.
It was a perfect way to end his reign of terror and destruction.
... ... ...
Princess primped herself up, applying mascara to her eyes whilst a servant flitted through her enormous room doors. Despite being much younger than most of the villains here in Townsville, she could no longer keep up with battling the Powerpuff Girls and do her school-work. Yes, even a growing beauty-queen such as herself needed to learn new things - plus, it could help her scout out the girls whenever she needed someone or some people to whine to.
Because, even with all her money, she couldn't buy respect from her other classmates, the ones that she scoffed at and called names back in Kindergarten.
The redhead was suddenly finished with her make-over and strolled out of her room with ease, even though wearing high-heeled boots. She past the study hall where her private tutors would wait for her every single Friday with more formulas and equations to memorize. It was all a dreary and dull business for her, which was why her attendance to these classes was slipping. Not that she - or her father, for that matter - minded, as she already had an extensive knowledge of mathematics after being taken to meetings with Daddy Morbucks and his financial advisors.
After all, what else did you need to know once you have mastered the manipulative powers of money?
Right now, however, her mind was dead set on one thing and although it included seeing green, dollar bills were not exactly associated with what was about to happen next.
... ... ...
Sweet notes started to come from the old banjo in front of the monster as he played a simple tune.
In all of his life, Fuzzy Lumpkins never would have guessed this is where he would end up. Ever since the day his property became victim of desolation and age, he had been hiding out with another group of "criminals", though even to someone as simple as Fuzzy, he didn't think stealing fruit was really a crime. Anyways, he was just glad that he had a place to sleep and ponder over the greater things in life.
Such as destroying a certain three who were constantly getting on his nerves.
Despite being labeled as one of the "bigger" villains, he never felt he had actually been close to stopping them right in their tracks. In fact, the only time where he felt like that was...
The pink monster blinked as he tried to remember that time... but the only things he could recall where, for some strange reason, fluffy feather boas and shiny golden crowns. Shrugging, Fuzzy went back to playing his beloved banjo, at least in a way thankful that he managed to salvage that one piece of his past. His memory had always been a little bit... well, for the lack of a better word, fuzzy. Still, he knew there was one important thing he had to do before the sun rose above the sleepy city of Townsville.
And so, putting down his instrument, the monster walked on by his protista neighbours just as one of them mumbled in their sleep something to do with oranges and the next biggest crime.
... ... ...
An eerie red alarm clock buzzed once in the cavernous underground in Hell, echoing off the walls in a sinister manner.
The slumbering embodiment of evil muttered to himself, whilst the alarm rang throughout his home. Tossing and turning, Him tried to block out the annoying sound and get black to sleep but it was to no avail. After a few seconds of the continuous buzzing, he slammed his claw on the clock, shattering it to a million pieces. Yawning, the demon gracefully stretched his arms and hopped out of his bed.
Him got dressed in his usual outfit, with black lipstick and Santa-esque coat in check. Preparation was the key to doing such a defined art as evil and he knew this better than anybody else. Finishing up with a flourish, the demonic figure past his bedroom and bathroom, where old Mister Quakers sat faithfully, as if waiting until his master came back home. With a devious smirk on his face, he hummed a nameless song to himself and walked along until he found an elevator with messy writing and little symbols on the buttons. Him commanded the door to open and as he went into the lift, he pressed the button "Ground Floor".
A ping followed this and as the doors closed, he remembered what he had to do.
... ... ...
The clock struck exactly one-thirty in the morning when they had arrived.
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