JMJ

Chapter Seven

Oppositions

Locating the boys was the easy part.

No.

Getting there in his little zippy hovercraft was even easier.

Actually, strangely enough, capturing the Rowdyruff Boys in the beam was the easiest of all with them just sitting there daring each other to eat asphalt or whatever they were doing. The only hard part for Mojo Jojo was ignoring the feeling of expecting an extra step and suddenly finding himself where he wanted to be already. Mojo was far too in the moment to stop because of this either way.

It was the flow of the river of his triumph. The beginning of the line of dominos. The synapse of his great and powerful mind with one purpose as dizzying as it was exact.

"Ah!" he said once in his lab with the containment beam lowering the living beings squabbling and whining as they descended to him not of their own will. "You thought you could escape the grasp of Mojo Jojo forever!?"

With arms thrown behind his back importantly, he chuckled with full mastermind finesse enough to make the boys quiet for a few seconds to stare blankly at their father.

"Boys!" Mojo went on finding it hard to hold back his giddiness. "It's been ages, hasn't it? The balance of three is but the balance of the universe. Three! There are three meals which all partake of regularly when not adding unnecessary additions to the customary breakfast, lunch and dinner. There are three wishes in the fairy tales that matter. Three strikes and you're out in all the best sports games! Three Powerpuff Girls fight crime in the City of Townsville! Three Rowdyruff—"

"Look who thinks he's a fortune cookie!" snapped Brick throwing his arms defiantly over his chest.

Butch laughed obnoxiously and as defiantly as his brother.

Mojo's eyes bulged. Then sad horrified confusion wreathed them in a puckered brow.

"One, two…."

Boomer… was not there.

Turning away, Mojo blinked miserably and bit his lip.

"CURSES!" snarled Mojo in an explosion of emotion.

"So what are you gunna do about it, you stupid hairball who can't even count to three?" Brick demanded impatiently.

Mojo swung back with a sweep of his phantom cape. "Silence your impertinent tongue in your impertinent mouth, for one thing!" snapped Mojo. "And you'll tell me where Boomer is for the next!"

"And you call yourself a super villain!? You can't even get your orders straight," scoffed Brick.

"What do you mean!? I said I'd silence you and you will tell me where—" Mojo stopped again realizing what Brick had meant.

The boys laughed, and red fury built up like a screeching tea kettle before he declared, "I'll find him myself!"

"Good luck!" mocked Brick. "But that boy's so dumb he can't even find himself much less a stupid monkey like you finds him!"

"But which one's stupider?" mocked Butch.

"They're both just as stupid!"

Now this was just beyond Mojo's tolerance. Pausing to show this with a very dark frown, he then lifted his finger and pushed a button on one of the many consuls at his disposal. Instantly, a circle opened in the floor. The containment field descended into it.

"Hey! You can't do this to us!" Brick snarled. "Your brain's a lame-o hairy gumball from a litter box! You dummy! You monkey butt! You let us go!"

Mojo knew Brick enough to understand that his talk was fake confidence. The boy was afraid. The best revenge was to show that his words meant nothing. So Mojo said nothing to any of the last insults as the boys disappeared into the dark voids beneath the floor. He crossed his arms with double the defiance the boys had showed.

It was a difficult thing to punish one's own offspring in such a fashion. They might have been a loving evil family once.

But alas, it was not the whim of the fates to bestow such warmth in the cold, dark void that was Mojo's life just like love was forever forbidden the cold, dark void that was Mojo's heart. He pondered over this irony as he stood cold and dark for a moment more. Then he swiftly turned away, his cape like the wing of a raven of omen— an ill omen for all those who opposed Mojo Jojo…

#

"How are we going to beat this, Professor?" Blossom pleaded.

"Yeah, we all know she's faking!" moaned Buttercup.

"I don't know, Buttercup," said Bubbles putting her little fingerless hands together mournfully. "You kicked her butt pretty hard."

"You're the one who gave her the black eye!" snapped Buttercup. "And she deserves it!"

Tears wavered in Bubbles' eyes.

They were dressed up again but not for a party. They wore three dresses that were colored like somber versions of their usual ones. Their hair was straight and professional. Their faces were long, heir moods in shadow, but at least the shadow was cast by the Professor, their father.

"Don't lose heart, girls," the Professor encouraged, though they were not fooled by his optimistic tone. "We'll beat this. Justice is on our side. Princess may be a spoiled brat, but the world does not revolve around her outside her mansion."

"But she has a whole team of lawyers, Professor," Blossom pointed out.

"And even though she's a bad actor, she has real authentic casts and stuff," said Buttercup.

"And she's not going to give up," said Bubbles peeking round the crack in the door where they could see their opponent.

Princess was with her army now, sniffling and choking as she sat like a broken doll in her wheelchair, but there were no real tears. In fact, Bubbles was positive that she could see some horrible tinge of satisfaction in them. Her chokes were more like choking down evil laughter than sobs. Bubbles could not imagine what she could be angry about since she was getting her way with this whole thing, but anger and frustration abounded in her too. Unless it was that she was angry that she felt she had to resort to this.

One small part of Bubbles almost regretted not letting Princess join them in the first place. Maybe she could never be a real Powerpuff Girl, but maybe she might have become a better person saving the day instead of a worse one.

"I want more water and ibuprofen!" shrieked Princess.

Bubble huffed. As if! She would have just tried to take the whole heroine team over for herself and made the three of them do all the dirty work while she took all the credit if she had had her way. There was not a selfless cell in her entire body.

Then Princess' eyes met hers.

in fright, Bubble felt like a flicker of electricity went up her spine, but she soon only frowned in defiance before she shut the door.

"Her eyes mean 'for real'," sighed Bubbles.

"Does she really think this is gunna make us let her in?" Buttercup demanded.

"Don't dwell on what she has," said the Professor, "but think about what she doesn't have."

"Superpowers?" quivered Bubbles.

"I think the Professor means justice," said Blossom half-heartedly.

"'Justice,'" said Buttercup. "That doesn't count for much without evidence, does it?"

"Have I ever told you about what happened to me when I didn't pick you up from school that one day shortly after you were born?" asked the Professor.

The girls' shuffled.

"You mean when Mojo tricked us the first time?" sighed Blossom.

The Professor smiled gently and put his hand on her shoulder. "Look, the court doesn't begin session for another half hour, how about I tell you, alright?"

"But that time didn't have Princess," whined Bubbles.

"No, it had all of Townsville against me," said the Professor gravely. "All of Townsville was furious, and not least furious was the Mayor himself, but I knew the judge at our pre-trial discussion believed in justice. He was at least willing to take that to heart, and that is what we must count on today."

"What if she pays the judge off?" Buttercup asked.

"What do you think a whole town of lawsuits would mean?" asked the Professor. "A whole city of people many of whom don't have criminal records like Princess? That's what I was up against then."

"Good point," groaned Buttercup.

"Then," said Bubbles with a slight sniffle as she looked up at the Professor with longing. "Are you going to tell us the story?"

"I think it will help," said the Professor.

The girls nodded in unison.

#

"Since this situation is so serious and so heinous and so pending, we're postponing everything else on schedule for what's left of this courtroom to have the trial against Pr. Utonium, and it's now in session!" shouted the Mayor with such passion that he was turning a strange color as he exploded off the ground in a frog's leap.

"Yes, uh, Mr. Mayor, we are not having an actual trial only a sort of interrogation set up like a trial at your request," remarked the Judge. "The Cross-Examiner is already in the middle of the examination. If you interrupt like that again… I'll have to use the gavel."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Judge," said the Mayor still as flustered as a feather duster. "I'm just so upset I don't know what I'm even doing anymore!"

Ms. Bellum sighed. "Well, at least you acknowledge your faults."

"Ahem!" the Judge coughed.

He turned to the Cross-Examiner, who was, in the old-fashioned British term, very cross indeed, though momentarily this irritation was directed more at the Mayor than the Professor.

"Okay," said the Cross-Examiner folding his long dexterous hands together with satisfaction after a sufficient silence. "So, where was I?"

"We were just asking Pr. Utonium how the 'little girls' were formed and how much he is to blame for this whole fiasco," said the Judge rubbing his temple.

"Yes."

"Well, uh…" the Professor began, trying hard not to be impatient.

He was a scientist, and he had learned from first-hand painful experience what happens when a person gets impatient. Perhaps in the event they had all come to speak about, he might have been a little too impatient to begin his final experiment for the perfect little girls. Maybe… just maybe… he might have at least waited until the next morning with a clearer head.

At the moment, he cleared his throat anyway.

"Well, uh…" he paused. "Let's see there was sugar…"

"Sugar," repeated the Cross-Examiner.

"There was spice."

"Spice," repeated the Cross Examiner.

The Judge lifted his bushy brows. "You were making cookies?" he asked.

"Well, no, I—!"

"The only people-like creatures you would have created would have been gingerbread people," sniffed the Cross-examiner. "If indeed creatures at all and not just edible pieces of artwork."

"Yes," muttered the Mayor who for lack of a gherkin was even at that moment biting off the head of a person-shaped cookie with tension. "Gingerbread people."

"Let him finish," said the Judge.

"Yes," the Professor said folding his hands together solemnly, "there was sugar, spice and— and everything nice."

He gave a weak but sincere little smile.

"Define 'everything nice'," said the Cross-Examiner.

"Good grief!" said the Judge, "It sounds more like an out-dated nursery rhyme than a scientific endeavor or even a baking competition."

"Please, your honor," said the Cross-Examiner becoming darker by the minute.

"Everything nice," the Professor said with a gulp as he took note in the ticking of the clock.

He tried to not wring his hands or bite his lip, but every tick was a second that those poor girls that owed their life to him and he owed all love to them were without him. Everything nice? Oh, how could such little creatures made with and for everything nice handle being without a loving parent? They could be anywhere.

They could be crying, the Professor thought with a choke. Hungry. He gulped. They could be… He threw his head in his arms crossed over the table like an exhausted student just told he had gotten an "F" despite his greatest efforts, but inside he felt so much more anguish than that.

"Professor," said the Cross-Examiner.

The Professor sat up and nodded.

"Well…"

The thing was, that there were so many things that constituted as "everything nice" that even he was not one hundred percent certain he recalled everything he had put in, but he would, true to duty, try to explain it as best he could under oath.

"There were sprinkles and glitter and stuffed animals and… uh, photos of rainbows and shooting stars— oh, how I waited to capture the best photo of a shooting star, and this was right before I gathered some star dust from its tail. There are bouncy balls and jacks. I think I put in some little rubies, but I'm not sure. But there was—"

"Are you kidding me?" asked the Judge.

"What do you mean?" the Professor asked.

"That would just make a mess," admitted Ms. Bellum under her breath, but the Professor heard it.

At that moment, he recalled someone else had once told him that same thing. He had not gotten all of his ingredients alone. He vaguely remembered back to that time that felt so long ago before the girls, but it was really not so long ago. He had been taking care of his nephew Wes for his good older brother, and he had helped gather things like a treasure hunt with him. It had been fun until… well, until the Professor had revealed what these items had been for. Wes had almost convinced him as a young, clear-headed teen could only do.

"But Uncle Professor," he had said trying his best to be charitable but he was too candid. "That would just make a mess…"

The Professor quickly forgot about the past and anything to do with it again with the slamming fists of the Mayor.

"Maybe he's just insane, your honor!"

The Judge pounded the gavel as warned, and the Mayor huffed back into his seat.

"Anything else?" demanded the Cross-Examiner whose eyes had not left the Professor's, and it was a gripping gaze like a strong hand gripping a child's wrist into place.

"Well, I thought we already established the use of Chemical X," the Professor shrugged.

"Oh, so this is a different substance from the one you were just describing?" said the Cross-Examiner.

"Yes, I thought that was already clear. I—"

The Judge pounded the gavel. "We don't have time for circular discussions. Please answer the question."

"Well, no. Those ingredients are not what Chemical X is made out of," the Professor said.

"Then just what is it made out of?" demanded the Cross-Examiner.

"Well, see… that's a difficult question because… well, I didn't invent it. I discovered it."

There was a general gasp from all around.