Reply to Guest: Indeed. We'll see what happens, though it's not confirmed if Blossom has IED - it'll take more than a session that's been cut short to diagnose it.
Chapter 11: A Quiet Sunday
The City of Townsville. Uptown. Cathedral Basilica of The Most Pure.
5 FEB (Sunday) 1989. 1017.
"-And if you don your spiritual armor, you'll be able to stand against the forces of the Devil-" An old, venerated bishop preached on the pulpit of one of Townsville's grandest Catholic churches. His eyes would occasionally turn in the direction of this Sunday's most special guests: none other than what the citizens of Townsville had blasphemously taken to calling The Angels of Justice, and the apparent Adam and Eve who had spawned such… creatures. Said creatures were sitting near the front, a few pews removed from the first row, dressed finely in flowing dresses likely woven by Lilith herself, matching their infernal eyes. The parents – one of whom was in a sinfully sultry black flowing dress and another in a deceptively handsome suit - didn't seem to mind their otherworldly appearance.
The Catholic and Christian world had mixed views when it came to Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup. Some saw them as demons, as heralds of the apocalypse, the spawns of Satan himself. Others, still, believed them to be true angels, although either birthed from a human womb or created by human hands - the USDO had kept the world in the dark - were actually sent down by God in the same manner that Jesus was birthed through Mary. A small minority had more rational views. The Pope himself and the Vatican Council, however, were still hesitantly deliberating on the matter, far removed from Townsville. However, word had spread that they would soon be issuing an official statement within the next few days, all in the name of shepherding the flocks of God in one direction rather than seven or more.
In recent times, those who held the extreme belief that Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were God's angels sent down from heaven were excommunicated from the Catholic Church. In Townsville itself, more than a thousand were thrown out by the Pope himself for foolishly making such blasphemous statements without his divinely-ordained approval. Unknown yet to the Girls, the priest Bubbles had saved in Morbucks Industries Research Labs had been an archbishop, and now one of those who had turned heretic and gone on to form a Catholic cult known as The New Trinity. Their membership was growing rapidly, drawing members from both the orthodoxy of Catholicism and the less religious of Townsville citizens.
Selicia Goodwin had made sure to carefully navigate the Catholic world she had left behind years ago to find the right church to put Buttercup - and her sisters - in. She had called the Catholic churches in advance to propose their visit to the church, and after eliminating a few churches that had taken offense to the idea, she'd narrowed it down and chosen the best out of those that remained. The Cathedral Basilica of The Most Pure was one such church which was willing to tolerate the Girls, with the majority of the attendees and priests there under the belief that they were God's gifts. It was, in truth, a slim majority, and they had made sure to avoid excommunication by making no official proclamations.
Blossom was listening intently to the bishop, taking in his every word, finding it all fascinating, and the bishop's claims of a spiritual world bizarre, but not unbelievable, considering what they had already seen and experienced. Bubbles thought the bishop's stories to be funny and interesting at times if a little boring during other times. Buttercup was barely staying awake, much to Selicia's chagrin. She had hoped that putting Buttercup in a church would 'tame the Devil in her' and, in more modern terms, keep her psychopathy in check by instilling some Catholic morals, backed by her love, into the troubled and wayward child. Professor Utonium was scribbling on his lecture pad, pretending to be taking notes about the bishop's whimsical and colorful presentation on the spiritual, but he was actually working on his calculations and chemical theory for Anti-X, which he thought was the true solution to the Buttercup problem.
All around them, people were secretly peeking at them. Some were less subtle and were outright staring or even glaring at them. It'd only subsided to an extent as the day wore on for the Girls. What did not subside was the huge berth the congregation had given the Girls. Those that believed them to be the Devil's work or the blasphemous production of humanity's hubris and arrogance had made sure to sit far away from them. The more tolerant had made no exceptions to their sitting arrangements. Only a few had chosen to welcome them and sit closer to them so as to not ostracize the new sheep to the flock. A kindly old woman, a middle-aged couple who looked like they came out of American Gothic and a few others.
The Catholic mass was one tiring ritual after the next, and they were really far from done. Next, they had to go through the Procession of Faith, which Buttercup, again, found to be meaningless, but Blossom and Bubbles found to have some meaning as they renounced their sins. Baskets were passed around after that, and Selicia had given each of the Girls a generous sum of money to donate, which they did, but it was a gesture none of them understood.
A few Catholic hymns later, the bishop announced that a special prayer was to be conducted before the usual: "May Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup come forward, before God and his humble speaker?" the bishop had requested. Blossom was stunned when she heard it. Bubbles was surprisingly excited at the prospect of participating more in the mass. Buttercup had to be woken up.
When the Girls were stuck to their seats, Professor Utonium decided to act, not out of religious conviction (as his was in the negatives) but to make sure that they didn't have to suffer another social disaster and the fallout from the resultant shame of it all. Taking Blossom and Bubbles by the hands, he led them down the long, red-carpeted aisle and towards the front. After wiping Buttercup's drool away, Selicia picked her up and followed behind the professor. In the meantime, the bishop, who was an old man in his seventies, descended from the pulpit to the front to receive them.
The congregation watched in morbid silence and even more interest than during a regular mass. The Girls stood before the railing separating Chancel from Crossing. They thought the bishop to appear formidable in his priestly garb and tall hat. He seemed serious and his venerable age, which had carved at his flesh as nature would a statue, gave him natural authority. He gazed down on the Girls as though they were unworthy, studying them as if looking for signs of the Devil's work.
The professor returned the bishop's look with interest, with silent derision and cynicism. Selicia, for once, was at peace as she looked up to the bishop. Buttercup decided to let herself float from her Mom's arms at this moment with a dim burst of green light, managing to extract a few gasps from the normally stoic congregation. She landed next to Blossom. The bishop watched the wayward of The Three with supposedly divine-approved judgment in his eyes.
"Spawns of Satan from the pits of hell or Angels of God from the very gate of heaven, I do not know what you three are - my continued prayers to God may yet yield some answers. But for the time being, I have faith that this is all part of a great plan - God has brought you before me either way. Spawns of Satan or Angels of God, I will recite a prayer with you, and if you're the latter, you will be blessed with the gift of your creator's wisdom and morality-" the bishop said eloquently, almost poetically. The professor had almost barked at the bishop for his insanity - after all, he was the man who had created his Girls, even if it was by accident. "Now, kneel down and put your hands together in prayer." He gestured before him.
The Girls did as they were told and knelt before the bishop. There were special pillows put down there just for them and their comfort, so that they would be raised to the right height, too. Putting their elbows on the railings, however, they did not know what to do with their hands. One after the other, the bishop put their palms together in sacred prayer. The bishop then instructed them to close their eyes and they did as they were instructed, though each of them did take a peek when they thought the bishop wasn't looking, expecting something, only to shut their eyes once more, disappointed.
"I am going to teach you a most simple prayer," the bishop declared. "Repeat after me, as you see with your mind the splendor of God: Dear Lord."
"Dear lord," the Girls repeated.
"They're going to be well-behaved little cherubs, I can feel it already," Selicia whispered to Professor Utonium as they watched from a fair distance away.
"I awake and see Your light," the bishop recited.
"I awake and see your light," the Girls repeated.
"I don't know," the professor replied with serious doubt in his heart, and rightfully so. "I think the key to their salvation's in science and parenting. Not… this."
"For You have kept me through the night," the bishop recited.
"For you have kept me through the night," the Girls repeated, amazingly without a pause or mistake.
"Oh, Thomas," Selicia said lovingly as she put an arm around him. "Have a little faith, and even then, it doesn't hurt to try."
"To You I lift my hands and pray," the bishop recited.
"To you I lift my hands and pray," the Girls repeated, still following, each with their own reasons to do so.
"We haven't tried everything yet," the professor said, careful not to offend Selicia at this critical moment.
"Keep me from sin throughout this day," the bishop recited.
"Keep me from sin throughout this day," the Girls repeated.
"So we've got to start somewhere," Selicia said playfully.
"And if I die before it's done," the bishop recited.
"And if I die before it's done," the Girls repeated.
"Still, don't you think it's a little…" the professor attempted to find the right word for what he was about to say. "out of place for the our Girls - the result of cutting-edge science ahead of its time by decades, if not centuries - to turn to religion - the result of humanity's superstition that started almost two thousand years ago?"
"Save me through Jesus Christ, Your Son," the bishop recited.
"Save me through jesus christ, your son," the Girls repeated.
"I get what you mean," Selicia said, mildly amused. "bioweapons' and 'enhanced individuals' and all that. Still, I think we both can agree that they're little girls. Our little girls, right?"
"Right," the professor said.
"Amen," the bishop recited.
"Amen," the Girls repeated.
"And this was how I was raised," Selicia recalled. "And despite everything - my parents and the streets and the USDO, I didn't turn into a complete mess. I was a partial mess, I know, but at least it wasn't complete."
"Open your eyes, children," the bishop said. The Girls obeyed. "repeat this prayer every morning, and the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit will lead you down a path of righteousness."
"Why not thank Aunt Martha for that?" the professor suggested. "Or your friends in school?"
"Thanks, mister," Blossom said to the bishop.
"Yeah, that was fun," Bubbles added.
"Mom's going to be glad we did this," Buttercup added too.
"Well, I'm thanking the church too," Selicia countered her other half in a good-natured manner.
"Don't thank me. Thank God," the bishop said to the Girls, not rudely. In fact, he'd even cracked a faint smile.
"You have me there," Professor Utonium said. "Still… This is completely different."
"Should we get the Girls baptized?" Selicia asked.
"Absolutely not," the professor rejected. Selicia smiled, and although she had every reason to be, wasn't offended.
"Will the parents of these fair children come forward and receive the blessings of our God in heaven?" the bishop asked for them.
"We'll speak later," Selicia said as she came up to the bishop. The bishop turned to look at the professor, wondering why he wasn't with his 'wife'. The professor raised his hand and gave the bishop a 'no' gesture as Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were returning to him. Eyes were immediately set on the professor as if he had committed a grave crime or uttered a blasphemous remark most foul.
"Why aren't you meeting the priest, Dad?" Bubbles asked, somewhat elated. "It was nice when we did that prayer thing." The professor wasn't quite sure how to explain himself and make Bubbles understand at the same time. All he did was to scoop her up and carried her in his arms while he waited for Selicia to be done with her prayer.
The professor would later explain at home to the Girls that he didn't believe, and cautioned - behind Selicia's back - not to believe everything they were told. The only thing he mentioned in favor of Selicia's religious affiliation was that Catholic rituals and habits could bring comfort, hope, and contentment to some and that they were welcome to try them if it helped them.
However, before that, the Girls were given an audience with a priest at the confession booth. Blossom had gone in first. Thomas and Selicia had excused themselves as Blossom's sisters waited. There was still much to talk about, things that were swept aside when the professor had decided to take the family out to the mall to repair the damage the Morbucks had caused.
"We need to talk about Blossom, Selicia," Thomas said as they selected a pew that was isolated enough from the straggling members of the congregation.
"What about her?" Selicia said, trying her best not to sound defensive. Her eyes were on her dear Thomas', and it looked like he might not have noticed. "Is she okay?"
"You know about her meltdown yesterday, right?" the professor asked.
"Yeah, what was that about?" Selicia said, too well aware that she was ignorant of Blossom's state of mind. Too well aware that it would bite her in the ass.
"You tell me," Thomas returned the question to Selicia, though he was at his wit's end on how to execute this. Being a professor in multiple fields, he had no trouble navigating calculations and theories and huge oceans of knowledge. People were the greater mystery to him, though with social consequences being all too real, it could end up becoming trouble too. "Blossom mentioned you. Something about you saying that she 'can't let Buttercup get hurt'?"
"Thomas…" Selicia murmured her lover's name, sensing anger in him, and she was right on the money.
"I know you love Buttercup more than Blossom and Bubbles, Selicia," the professor said. It wasn't new information. It wasn't the first time they had talked about this, and the professor found the fact painful and hard to swallow. It felt like something he would have to deal with for the rest of his life - and he loved the Girls, all of them, and Selicia. "What did you say to Blossom, Selicia? What did you do to her?"
"Oh, Thomas…" Selicia murmured, making sure to exaggerate the pain and sadness in her voice. Instinctively, she wanted to escape this. The loving Thomas she knew had faded away, and someone else was in his place. He tended to get like this when he was truly angered - and the fastest way to enrage him was hurting his adopted daughters. The fact that he was holding back was miraculous enough. "I know it's wrong to play favorites - I swear I wasn't… You know what General Blackwater said…"
In the next instant, Selicia was able to string together a convincing narrative. It was a skill she had mastered a long time ago, back when she wasn't a teenager yet. It was all for a good cause, she thought - if she stayed in the family and remained on good terms with Thomas, she could do more good, even to Blossom and Bubbles.
"I was just afraid for Blossom…" Selicia lied. Her tears were half-real. "She's held responsible for everything - I just want her to succeed, and be a good sister to Buttercup. I'm sorry. I didn't think that…"
Thomas couldn't resist her convincing tears. Holding her, he gave her a hug, at once regretting his accusations and even wondering why he made them in the first place. After all, there were a lot of possibilities as to what had caused Blossom to blow up - and he now believed he had made the mistake of choosing the wrong one, the worst one that implicated his 'wife' and wife-to-be when he shouldn't have.
"I feel guilty every day knowing that- that- the Girls had to go out there every day," Selicia cried, and she was victorious.
"It's so difficult!" she sobbed. "I'm the one who had to train them and- and- knowing every second that I'm preparing them for something they shouldn't have to go through!" It was perfect - it was exactly what the professor would want to hear.
"I know… I'm sorry," Thomas said.
"And when Buttercup was shot…" she continued murmuring sadly, at the same time trying not to attract too much attention – the fewer people involved, the better. "I was really afraid and it really hurts and- and- I can't imagine how it'd be for Blossom…"
"I was just trying to teach her everything I know…" Selicia said, finally drying her tears – there was no more need for that. She had won. "So she won't make the same mistakes I did."
"You've always been looking out for my little babies," the Professor said, nodding, touched by Selicia's self-professed sacrifice and altruism, none the wiser that half or even most of it were lies selfishly told to cover her ass. "Thanks. I didn't realize how hard it's been for you, having to act like a villain for their own good. I can't imagine doing that with them. I'm sorry."
As Selicia hugged the professor, she smiled even as she was still tearing up - she had done it, and it seemed that a couple of months of conventional nuclear family life hadn't damaged her ability to plot and plan and deceive.
When it was Buttercup's turn in the confession booth, it didn't take long at all. There was a shout from the inside from a man and the door from the priest's side burst open. The younger member of the clergy responsible for the confessional sprinted away as if chased by the Devil himself, hysterically screaming incoherently all the way.
The bishop who was walking down the red carpet in the center of the cathedral stared disapprovingly as the frightened priest ran across the church and disappeared into a door leading into the Sacristy. "Paul, wait! What's the matter with you!?" the old bishop had asked aloud, confused when it happened. He then turned to Buttercup, who had just exited the booth, and she flashed a guilty smile back at him.
"What did you do, Buttercup?" Selicia asked as she and her 'husband' went up to her.
"Nothing! He asked for my deepest, darkest sins and thoughts, so I gave it to him," Buttercup said, though she made no mention of the fact that one of her deepest, darkest thought was the urge to break through the grilled window in the confessional booth and tear the priest apart. The colorful descriptions of her various massacres had been enough to put the priest on edge.
"Oh, my sweet pie," Selicia said, slightly exasperated but with a smile on her face. She then laughed.
Out in the corner, the bishop was frowning at them, fuming mad.
The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.
5 FEB (Sunday) 1989. 1543.
Despite the little mishap at the church with Buttercup and the priest, the day had been great. They had gone to lunch after that, then shopping, mainly for larger-sized clothes and more toys in anticipation of the Girls growing bigger, and finally home. He liked it whenever the Girls were smiling and laughing innocently once more. It meant that he had done his job, and made them forget their worries at least for the day. As much as he hated to admit it, the time they spent at the Catholic church had done as much good in making them forget. It was the only thing that mattered.
As he was undoing his tie while on the way to his master bedroom, the phone – the regular one – rang. The professor picked it up.
"Hello?" he answered it dispassionately.
"Mister Utonium. Morbucks here," a deep male voice on the phone said. The professor hung it up immediately and walked away, but before he could retreat into his bedroom, the phone rang once more.
"Mister Utonium, please, you have to listen to me," the billionaire on the phone begged. The professor hung up on him again. He couldn't be bothered with the bastard who ruined his daughters' Friday. Neither did he want him to ruin his Sunday. There was only one way he would listen to the man – he'd have to be begging on all fours before he'd even be willing to listen. Selicia would call it 'grilling' or 'sweating' the suspect. Speaking of Selicia, she was waiting for him, no doubt in the shower with most of her clothes gone and her hair, which she had grown to shoulder length, flowing down her-
The phone rang again. The professor let it ring for ten seconds out of spite, then twenty, before picking it up with a near-sadistic smile on his face. He knew that Morbucks' time was worth more in financial terms than his, and he enjoyed the idea of pissing it down the drain.
"Professor Utonium, please!" Mister Morbucks was practically begging desperately on the other hand.
"What do you want, Morbucks?" the professor made sure to sound as insultingly bored and dispassionate as possible. "My Girls aren't available. How about you ring up the city circus for your next party? I'm sure they won't cost you and your cronies an estimated $54 million."
"It's my daughter, professor, please!" Mister Morbucks was nearly driven to tears.
"And since when is your daughter my responsibility?" Professor Utonium said coldly. "I'm sure a rich man like you could find her some other friends, am I right? Just toss some money in the direction of the city and stop bothering me!"
"You're a doctor too, aren't you?" the businessman said. "You can't leave my daughter to die like this!"
"Isn't that being a little melodramatic?" the professor barked into the phone – oh, how some people would say anything to get their way!
"It's not! My precious Elodie- She- ever since that day, she wouldn't eat… she wouldn't sleep… She- she wouldn't stop crying," if Mister Morbucks wasn't grilled enough then, he was now. He was practically weeping and barely able to string a sentence together. "I had to call in the family doctor to sedate her and put her on an IV drip but- he- he warned that with Elodie's health already unstable as it is, she- she might even have a relapse like this! She needs the Girls! They're the only people who could save her!"
What Mister Morbucks said had given the professor pause. But on remembering what he did to the Girls, he could only do one thing.
"I'll think about it," the professor said without meaning it, making sure to pump as much venom into his voice as he could. "I'll get back to you in three business days - is that how a big shot CEO like you talk?"
"Don't you dare hang up on me!" Mister Morbucks screamed into the phone when he realized what the professor was about to do. "Please, help my daughter! Help her! PLEEEEASE!"
"JUST LIKE HOW YOU HELPED THEM!?" The professor screamed madly into the phone and hung up. And when the phone wouldn't stop ringing, he unplugged it and knocked the phone off its pedestal, and when the ringing wouldn't stop in the other parts of the house, he started unplugging every regular phone in The House too. He'd even expected the USDO hotline to start buzzing, but it didn't.
All was quiet once more. As a Sunday should be.