Chapter 66: Big Deal

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 0745.

While waiting for Thomas Upton, Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup to wake up, Selicia had taken it upon herself to prepare breakfast for them. Smiley-face hashbrowns, bacon, scrambled eggs and sandwiches with orange juice to wash them down. She figured that they would make for a good reunion meal.

When Professor Utonium and the original Three were coming down the stairs together, the first sign of Selicia's presence had been the sound of kitchenware and cooking. Then it was the smell of something scrumptious. It'd enticed all four of them to investigate, only to find, to their surprise, that it was Mom. Selicia.

"Morning, dears," she greeted them just in time to set the table.

"Selicia!" Thomas uttered in surprise. "I thought you were-"

"Mom!" Buttercup cried and flew into her arms, hugging her possessively. Blossom and Bubbles, however, kept their distance warily.

"Aren't the two of you glad to see me? C'mere…" Selicia said to the Girls. Not wanting to contradict or disobey her in front of Dad, they floated over to her for a reluctant group hug.

"It's General Blackwater, Tom," Selicia finally explained to the professor. "He… just told me to leave. He didn't tell me why."

The professor knew what it meant.

"But- what about Bunny?" he asked. The previous day had been dreadful for him. Unproductive. Unbearable. He couldn't stop wondering what the general was making her do, what he was doing to her. And he knew that it was affecting the entire family, that surely, Bunny's elder sisters were concerned about her as well. What he did not know, however, was that he had retreated into himself, isolated himself, more than what he was aware of, and he was affecting his older adopted daughters just as much, if not much more so than Bunny when it came to Blossom and Buttercup.

Selicia shook her head. She was quiet at first, but she expected the worst. She was Bunny's assigned mother, and it wasn't just a professional position to her. She would like to believe that she wasn't just some dog handler. Despite her history, Bunny was growing on her. The general knew that too. What he was planning needed her out of the way.

"She's not worse off even if you put her next to our other Girls…" Selicia said though the pauses in her voice had betrayed her lacking confidence. "The general's actually taking good care of her. He knows that Bunny is an 'asset'."

It was all subjective, of course, as to what 'taking good care' of someone constituted. Selicia knew this, and so did the professor.

"Ugh, can we stop talking about Bunny now!?" Buttercup interrupted impatiently while eyeing both Mom and the breakfast she made, making it known with just her eyes that she needed both. Bubbles shot her an accusing look, but Blossom didn't.

"When is it our turn, Dad?" Blossom said cryptically, and though it had caught both her Dad and Mom's attention, neither of them knew what she meant. Neither did Professor Utonium had the time to wonder. Worried sick about Bunny, he marched over to his phone.

Selicia was there in the USDO headquarters to protect and nurture Bunny where he couldn't, and now even she was separated from her too. The professor knew he had to do something, anything, to ensure Bunny's safety.

Phone Recording 02271989-0754-TH

DOC: 27 FEB (Monday) 1989.

Extracted: 27 FEB 1989.

-TRANSCRIPT START-

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Uh-yyyello?

Professor Utonium: Wiggums, hey, I really need your help right now.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: It's been a while since I last heard from you. Anything you want - what is it?

Professor Utonium: Do you know about Bunny?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Only everything there is to know. Never underestimate the logistician! I know about the kind of hardware she's been loaded with, the kind of training she's been put through… all through the requests I've been handed.

Professor Utonium: Has she been… abused in any way, Wiggums?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Besides the technicality that child soldiers are illegal and any kind of military training pushed onto Bunny is illegal? Not really.

Professor Utonium: What do you mean 'not really'?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: It's only been a day, Upton. The serious stuff tends to happen much later, maybe later today, or tonight. It's just basically orientation for now. But…

Professor Utonium: Please, Wiggums, but what?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: I'm sure it's nothing - besides, General Blackwater seems to have taken a liking to Bunny, believe it or not, so I don't think he's going to do anything drastic.

Professor Utonium: You need to tell me! I'm her father!

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Alright, man. Calm down a little! Look, it might just be nothing, but General Blackwater ordered in the same things you did for your labs a while ago. That expensive Duranium table you commissioned a few weeks ago? He's got that too. That, and Duranium surgical tools. But I don't think that's the thing you should be worried about. I heard people talk, and my clearance is high enough for me to listen.

Professor Utonium: What is it?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: They're training her to be the perfect killer, prof. No qualms, no remorse, just shoot to kill. They're screwing with her mind to do it.

Professor Utonium: …

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Professor? Thomas?

Professor Utonium: Please, Wiggums. I need someone there, anyone there to help my Bunny. I'm asking you for help because I know General Blackwater. He'd expect someone from the research department or the medical wing to hinder him.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: What do you want me to do, Thomas? I don't think there's anything we can do. It's the general we're talking about here.

Professor Utonium: Whatever it takes. Please. I'm supposed to be responsible for her - I wish I could be there for her, and now Selicia's no longer there-

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: She's gone? I don't even know-

Professor Utonium: Yes, she is. General Blackwater kicked her out.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Look, Tom. We've been friends for a long time, but as much as I wanted to help, I can't. And for Bunny's own sake and yours, don't cross the general. It could only end one way.

Professor Utonium: You're a worm, you know that? A cowardly worm who's afraid of the light! And that's an insult to worms because you're an even lower order of life form! I thought I can trust you!

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: So trust me. Don't do anything stupid, and I won't. I gotta go, got papers to fill and all that. Don't be rash. (Hangs up)

Professor Utonium: Don't- Wiggums! Damn it… (Hangs up)

The City of Townsville. Pokey Oaks North. Pokey Oaks Kindergarten Complex.

27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 1124.

As usual, during Townsville's renewed crime wave, Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup had to attend school in their uniforms and gear.

"Stop touching my flashbang!" Blossom pushed Mac away for the umpteenth time again while she was trying to solve the math question Miss Keane had written on the blackboard. Mac, undeterred, like a moth attracted to a light bulb, came up to her again in an attempt to pull Blossom's flashbang off her vest while she tried to resume her mental exercise. His finger had come close to remove the safety pin this time. Frustrated, Blossom seized Mac by the arm and gave it a twist one-handed, restraining Mac.

"Ow! Bloss! Miss Keane! Blossom's hurting me!" Mac cried out in pain.

"Mac's been trying to set off my flashbang!" Blossom defended herself. "I don't like flashbangs when they blow up in my face!" It'd happened before, after all, so Blossom was speaking from experience. Miss Keane, who'd been writing more math questions on the blackboard with her chalk, turned around, seemingly nonchalant but a little exasperated. She knew right away who was at fault from the beginning:

"Mac, you know you're not supposed to touch things that don't belong to you," Miss Keane lectured the boy, moving forward while she did after putting down her chalk. "Or detonate someone else's flashbang for that matter!"

"But-" Mac tried to say, only for Miss Keane to interrupt him.

"Sit behind the table next to me, Mac," the school teacher ordered. Knowing better than to go against an authority figure, Mac did as she was told. "Now, does anyone know the answer to five plus seven?"

The USDO hotline rang before Blossom could volunteer her answer, much to her frustration. Things hadn't been going well at all for her, ever since Mom came back. Bunny was all her Dad could talk about when she did, not that he was involved in the trio's activities since the younger enhanced girl's departure.

Blossom flew to the phone and picked it up before its horrid buzzing could annoy her any further, her grenades, guns, and gear clattering as she did.

To add to the list of things going wrong ever since Bunny was that she had to attend to a crime in the middle of class - for the millionth time. The last time she had one good, uninterrupted class at school felt like a lifetime ago, and it probably was, as she had only just celebrated her third month's birthday - it was a pain to the enhanced little girl that even Bubbles, her sweetest sister, couldn't fully understand. Buttercup, on the other hand, couldn't care less about class, and Blossom knew exactly what she wanted.

The reason for the call had made things worse, drilled into Blossom's head that she was cursed the moment she was no longer the apple in her Daddy's eyes, though such expressive language was still lost on her. There was a school shootout in a high school downtown, and the Powerpuff Girls were needed to break the siege that ensued. A teenage boy was the perpetrator, and by the time they had gotten to him, he had already killed several students and a staff member. Multiple times the number were wounded. As he was armed with assault weapons, explosives, and hostages, the police needed an alternate solution to sending in vulnerable police officers and SWAT team, and risk the school blowing up in their faces.

The teenager was young and suicidal, so emotionally affected that he'd given away the fact that he had rigged multiple tiers of doors to explode. Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup had crashed through the window. They couldn't talk him out of it. Buttercup had asked several times to kill him, but Blossom was able to knock him out. The teenage boy had actually fired upon them, perhaps hoping to commit suicide by Powerpuff Girls. When Blossom asked him why he'd killed after handcuffing him, he mumbled that it was because no one cared about him, even when he'd suffered neglect and bullying for years.

It'd hit Blossom really hard.

But the world didn't stop for her even then. The police had directed her to another situation that required the Three's intervention. Detective Mullens, Olivia and Stanley Talker were nowhere to be seen. Even Detective Wednesday was out there, somewhere, but not with her.

By the time Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had reached their second assignment, there was nothing to be done. They were directed to the outskirts of the city, the edge of the wilderness where their experiences had almost always been bad. That had remained true, still.

There were reports of cultist activities of the hardcore, illegal kind. By the time they got there, all they found was a ritual circle drawn in the dirt, marked by candles and blood. A little girl, five years old, was sacrificed in the center of it, a knife to the heart. The cultists did not know decency - only the idol of their worship - and the girl's corpse was left naked and splayed out in the middle of the circle, with what appeared to be a symbol resembling a devil's head carved into her forehead.

The cultists were never eradicated despite their best efforts. If anything, they were emboldened.

That had struck Blossom really hard, too.

It was no coincidence that the sacrificed child resembled her, even if superficially. She had a similar hair color, about the same length of hair, perhaps shorter by a couple of inches. Freckles were forming, and would, now, never form. She was intelligent-looking, with an air of so much potential - but no longer.

Bubbles was reduced to a hunched, blubbering and crying mess kneeling on the floor after seeing it. But it wasn't just because of the brutality of the cultist's deed that struck her down. It'd reminded her of her own shameful deeds.

Buttercup, though, remained Buttercup. She tried her best to appear uncaring, even disgusted and nonplussed, but the scene fascinated her that she dropped the act the moment she thought her sisters weren't looking. She remembered the cultist who sacrificed himself for her depraved pleasure back in the Silver Age Cinema, and she wondered again, as she did many nights, if she would be offered the same sacrifice again someday.

The day, however, was far from over. Shortly after discovering the ritualistic cult murder and reporting what they experienced (anticlimactic as it was) to the police, Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup were called up on the way home, and they hadn't even eaten lunch yet.

"This is the chief of Precinct 77. Same arrangement as before, except on Umbridge Street around the Apartments," the caller went right to business without warning and without pause. He didn't even try to be friendly. "The black car will be there by the alley between 55 and 56 at thirty past three. Keep a low profile and don't be late."

As quickly as the 'chief of Precinct 77' called, he hung up. Blossom wasn't even able to say a word to him.

"What is it, Blossom?" Bubbles asked.

"It's the Amoeba Boys," Blossom said, and although she didn't know about it, it'd made Bubbles nervous. "The man on the tele said it'd be the same as before."

"At least we'll get some action this way!" Buttercup was practically whooping with joy.

At Umbridge Street, they stood in the alley, waiting. The man did say to keep a low profile, a term Blossom understood from her months of law enforcement. Bubbles mewled with nervous anticipation while Buttercup was excited, doing air punches as if warming up for another slugfest.

When the time came, a black car pulled over in front of them. Though the car was black, it was of a different make and brand as the previous one. The shotgun seat door opened, and the slim gangster popped out from behind the door.

"Hey, Powerpuff Girls, your chariot awaits. Hop in!" the thin man said. The Girls exchanged looks before piling into the backseat, which was more spacious than the previous one.

"Welcome back, Miss Blossom, Miss Bubbles and Miss Buttercup," the driver, the thickset man who was still wearing his dark blue suit, said as he began driving them towards… somewhere (Blossom knew they would be visiting the Lombardi Mansion). They were both wearing shades, but all three Girls knew that they were the same people who picked them up as before. The voice was the same, and so was the mannerism. Still, Blossom knew that they had deliberately hidden their features just enough to be both anonymous and innocuous at the same time, in equal measure.

The car ride was silent for a time, and they crossed a couple of junctions without a word spoken.

"The name's Fedele Palladino, by the way," the big man introduced himself belatedly, out of the blue. The slim gangster didn't. "I'm not sure if you noticed, but I'm the three dons'… what shall I call it? I'm their executor, you understand, no?"

"It's nice to know your name, Mister Fedele Palladino," Blossom tried to defuse the tense atmosphere by saying. "It's a really pretty name."

"What's an executor?" Bubbles asked before Blossom could, for once.

"I thought you like fairy tales, Bubbles?" Buttercup interceded before anyone else could speak. "He kills people, duh!"

What Buttercup said managed to coax raucous, broken laughter from both of the men in the car, as though she was some stand-up comedian who'd just performed a routine.

"What?" she asked brashly and aggressively, confused as to why she had attracted their ridicule. "What did I say wrong?"

"I'm an executor, not an executioner, capiche? You know, like the man who presses the button men. People don't die around me. Well, not usually. That's the kind of business other men around me attend to, see," Palladino explained, as though he was talking to a bunch of new blood joining the family.

"It's good that you don't kill, Mister Fedele Palladino," Blossom added.

"Look, kid, it's really awkward for you to call me by my full name all the time," the executor said. "Just call me Palladino, Mister Palladino will do."

"Why aren't there any snacks here, Mister Palladino?" Buttercup demanded after digging through the pouches behind the front seats and finding nothing to chew on. She'd had potato chips the last time and wanted more. "I'm hungry! And you're supposed to put snacks in here for us to eat!"

"Not after you made a mess the last time, girlie!" Fedele accused the tomboy. With his eyes still on the road, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out something in a package. With a softer tone, he continued: "Here's something less crunchy and crumbly - I heard girls like this sort of thing."

The high-ranking gangster stuck the package behind him, and Buttercup took it. It turned out to be a packaged box of chocolate, something she would love to have. It reminded her of that time more than two months ago when Wiggums, her Dad's friend, visited with chocolates only for her Dad to throw the confectionery away. Buttercup had to pick them out of the trash and eat them at midnight because of it. Thankfully, Buttercup was rendered immune to disease by her Chemical X enhancements, or she might have risked food poisoning there and then.

The City of Townsville. Outskirts. Lombardi Family Estate.

27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 1418.

When Fedele Palladino parked the black car within the compound of the Lombardi Mansion, it was business as usual. The big man scolded Buttercup for creating a mess in the back seat. He and the thin man would then escort the Powerpuff Girls through the mansion towards the Amoeba Boys, except somewhere along the journey, Mister Palladino would take the Girls down a different path, veering towards the back of the mansion on the second floor, rather than rising to the top.

Doors after doors were opened, crossing room after room until they reached another set of open doors, which they knew would reveal the Amoeba Boys when opened. They knew it because they were stripped of their armor and weapons again.

True enough, when Palladino and his partner opened the doors, Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup could see the trio of Lombardi dons sitting around one small end of a grand dining table, with white napkins tucked into their collars. A huge array of food was piled up close to them.

The Girls, now in just their field uniforms, exchanged looks before looking behind. Blossom was hoping for the now more familiar Palladino to tell them what to do next, but the big man had merely disappeared behind the double doors after glancing at them for just a moment. In unison, the Girls went back to staring at the Amoeba Boys, unsure of what was going on, confused by what they should do.

"Ah, if it isn't the Powerpuff Girls!" Bossman exclaimed in seeming jubilation from across the room. His voice had carried really well across the massive dining hall. "Please, come, join us!"

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup looked at each other again before Blossom floated towards them at a slow speed, hoping that showing some manners and etiquette would lead to a more peaceful discussion compared to the last time. Bubbles and Buttercup followed her lead, hovering at the same speed and height as her.

"We've been waiting, haha," Junior, the smallest of the three, said with his usual impish demeanor.

After landing closer to the Amoeba Boys, the Girls padded towards them, rounding a corner of the grand dining table, but stood where they were when they got close. Blossom studied them while Bubbles' gaze had drifted, as it always did, to the floor while Buttercup's went upwards, to the table full of food that looked fit for royalty.

"Miss Blossom, Miss Bubbles, and Miss Buttercup, please," Bossman greeted the Girls once more, before waving his beefy hand at some empty seats before him. "Have the three of you had lunch?"

"We were going to, but we had a call," Blossom explained as she took her seat - which just so happened to be the one next to Bossman, who was sitting at the head of the table. Bubbles was too shy to sit so close to the biggest don of the Lombardi, while Buttercup wanted a spot close to most of the food. "We were asked to come down here, and I was thinking of eating my field rations." She pulled a silver packet out of her thigh pocket and showed it to Bossman. "It's… not very nice."

"Good thing we're celebrating then," Bossman said, smiling at the buffet laid out before them, before remembering about his enhanced guests. He waved his hand again, this time at the food. "Why not have lunch with us… and celebrate?"

"I don't mind," Buttercup said. She didn't wait for anyone to start. The chocolate she ate earlier hadn't hit the bottom - instead, it'd done exactly the opposite and made her crave for more. She began piling food on her plate, and the first thing he did was to chomp down on a steak, splattering brown sauce all over her face and table.

"But why are we celebrating?" Blossom asked, more hungry for information than food. For her, the few pieces of chocolate she ate would have to do until she'd find out what she wanted to know. Bubbles, on the other hand, had only taken small amounts of baked potatoes and venison as a form of courtesy, nibbling on them nervously as she watched and listened while Blossom and Bossman had their conversation.

"Why, only a few things, of course," Bossman said, jubilant - which didn't suit his voice and demeanor. "My, uh, path to redemption, yeah. And… our partnership."

"Partnership?" Blossom said, confused. She barely knew the word, much less what it was supposed to mean in this context.

"Isn't that what we shared? Me, the Head Don Ricci, and you, Blossom Utonium," he explained, leaning towards her. Despite the fact that they were no longer fighting one another, Blossom still had to fight the urge to lean away from the mob boss. He placed his massive arm around her tiny shoulders. "Together, we cleaned up the slums! Chased out the rats plaguing it!"

"But…" Blossom said, and couldn't finish her sentence at first. The day had weighed heavily on her shoulders, much more so than Bossman's arm around her. It was so bad that she could no longer cringe on being touched by the leader of the Amoeba Boys. "Is it over? It didn't feel like it. It was horrible today…"

Slim and Junior couldn't help but throw their heads back in laughter. Bossman threw a glare at them when they did this. On getting the message, they tried to stifle their laughter and ended up giggling quietly. Finding this acceptable enough, the Head Don returned to Blossom.

"I'm a man with strings of… considerable length, Miss Blossom," Bossman said, in what seemed to be an attempt at comforting a little girl. His growling voice had, somehow, become more tame to Blossom's ears though it hadn't changed. "I wouldn't want my partner to be so troubled. I'll talk to my pals, see if I could put an end to all those inconveniences in town. I'm sure I can with their help."

Blossom was close to tears. The cultic sacrifice of the little girl who looked like her was still fresh on her mind. Bossman patted her on the back before withdrawing his arm away from her.

"You will?" Blossom said, surprised at the lengths her former enemy would go to make things better for her.

"Yeah, of course!" he said, before shifting his eyes to his wine glass. He stared at his own reflection. "But… As powerful as I am… There are many things I don't control. I would be lying if punching Don Exposito's card is the end to all our problems."

"There are more like him?" Blossom asked though she knew what the answer would be, and that answer scared her. She hated killing, even if it was killing someone as heinous as Bossman said he was. She glanced at her sisters briefly. Buttercup was busy stripping a chicken drumstick down to the bone, while Bubbles looked absolutely lifeless.

"Many, many more…" Bossman said. He signaled for a servant to come over without even looking at him. That servant had a wine bottle with him, and he proceeded to pour Bossman a glass of the wine. The liquid was almost black - but it might as well be. As if rehearsed, the waiter wordlessly poured Blossom a glass as well. That was when the head of the Lombardi noticed what was going into Blossom's glass. "What the hell is that?"

"Only the finest from the cellar, boss," the servant said. "Just like what you ordered."

"Jeez, you trying to get the kid drunk?" Bossman reprimanded the servant. "I thought I corrected myself and ordered sparkling grape juice instead?"

"Sorry, boss, I must have forgotten," the servant apologized, then reached for Blossom's glass to get rid of it. Bossman grabbed his arm.

"Just- leave it. No point wasting good wine - never waste, that's what I'd say," Bossman lectured the servant. "Just go. I'll deal with you later." Afraid, the servant turned around and left quickly, walking briskly for the doors, almost breaking into a jog. The Bossman turned to Blossom, who had been watching with mild interest, still upset over how the day went.

"Tell you what, Blossom Utonium," Bossman continued. "I scratch your back, and you'll scratch mine. How 'bout that?"

"Huh?" Blossom enunciated, unclear about what Bossman meant - expressions were still a relatively new thing to her. Plus, being upset wasn't doing any favors for her cognitive ability.

"It's hard to hear that there's a hundred Don Expositos out there, I get it," Bossman said. "But if we work together… We'll clean up the city in no time - as partners." He picked up his wine glass, in a style befitting an aristocrat, holding it in front of him but not drinking it. "I'll work to stop all the small-timers from starting their schoolyard fights and petty tit-for-tats, and you'll help me help those evil crime bosses check out. Do we have an understanding… Partner?"

"I guess…" Blossom agreed reluctantly - numerous thoughts were going through her head, faster than the speed of light. It had been hard enough to kill one - a figurative hundred as a mere thought felt like death to her soul. Then there was still the fact that she was working with an enemy. She felt unease because of it despite all the reassurances she got that it was fine, that she was doing the right thing. Something was wrong - but she couldn't understand what. There were contradictions everywhere that she could feel but not rationalize with any clarity.

"Then pick up your glass, Blossom," Bossman said to her. Bossom did as she was told, pinching the glass' stem instead. The don held his glass of wine towards her. The gesture confused Blossom, and so Bossman had to instruct her: "Clink your glass against mine, Blossom. We'll drink to this deal and seal it."

Blossom did as she was told, before drinking the wine. The taste was horrible, but not entirely so. There was some sweetness to it, mixed in with bitterness. But it felt like something she could get used to. Thankfully, her liver, enhanced with Chemical X, had ensured that it would take many times the amount and concentration of alcohol to inebriate her.