Chapter 67: Doing Harm
B-50 Training Report 02261989-A
DOC: 26 FEB (Sunday) 1989
Created by: General Blackwater
Title: B-50 Training Report 02261989-A
Below is a summary of B-50's progress in training.
Training Segment: Orientation
Time: 0600-0620
Description: B-50 is given primers on how to behave, what to expect and what is expected of her, and why she is training.
Results: Successful. B-50 has attached herself to me. She is now more compliant. I believe I will be able to exert limited control over her. This is possible in short notice due to her childish and naive nature.
Training Segment: Standard Equipment
Time: 0625-0700
Description: B-50 is introduced to and taught the use of standard-issue equipment as agreed upon through meetings 02151989B, 02221989F, and 02241989A.
Results: Successful. B-50 is familiar with the identity, function, and use of her standard equipment. Her photographic memory helped.
Training Segment: Firearms Training
Time: 0710-1100
Description: B-50 is trained in the use and maintenance of common and uncommon firearms, both military and civilian grade models.
Results: Successful. B-50 is now more proficient with firearms than even a fully-trained soldier. Being stronger than a bulldozer has made carrying and firing even a gun meant for stationary emplacement a non-issue.
Training Segment: Communications
Time: 1130-1245
Description: B-50 is taught military communications theory as well as the basics of language.
Results: Successful. B-50 has achieved greater confidence in the use of English. She has become a viable substitute for any communications officer in the USDO. Again, her photographic memory is a factor to the speed at which this is achieved.
Training Segment: Human Anatomy
Time: 1300-1400
Description: B-50 is given an introduction to the human body, its organs and how it works. She is also taught how to cripple any part of the human body, cause pain or fatality.
Results: Mixed Success. B-50 is even able to gain full marks on a questionnaire presenting different scenarios with different objectives ranging from killing to torture. However, Doctor Simmons might have compromised her willingness to complete missions by talking to her about Professor Utonium, who is a bad influence on her. Photographic memory helped.
Training Segment: Unarmed Combat
Time: 1400-1600
Description: B-50 is trained in the basic theory and practicals of unarmed combat, in systems including Karate, Jujitsu, Aikido, Judo, Taekwondo, Hapkido as well as selected techniques, subject to availability as provided by our in-house instructor, from styles found in other parts of the world.
Results: Successful. While there is only so much B-50 could absorb despite her photographic memory, fine motor skills and enhanced physique, what she is able to master are devastating when applied by her due to the multi-ton force she is able to apply. It takes many years of practice for a Karate black belt to be able to break a cinderblock. B-50's aptitude has reduced that process down to within minutes. Her enhanced strength, stamina, speed, and reflexes had made her second to none even before she was trained.
Training Segment: Close Quarters Combat (Melee)
Time: 1600-1830
Description: B50 is taught numerous systems dealing with the use of archaic weapons, which will be useful even with modern-day batons, truncheons and improvised weapons scrounged from the environment. The instructor is to inculcate an appreciation for the ways of Kendo, Kyudo, and Iaido as well as general Chinese kungfu. Local 'western' styles would have been implemented had there been an available and appropriate instructor, but with the best we can hope for being a re-enactor, that option has been delayed at best.
Results: Successful. B-50 will be ready if she is forced to resort to more brutal measures than a suppressed pistol in the field. Factors same as above.
Training Segment: Strategy and Tactics
Time: 1900-2100
Description: B-50's mind is molded for tactical flexibility and acumen.
Results: Beyond successful. She has also been successfully taught the value of sacrifice, even to the point of ignoring her own feelings. All factors have been covered and will not be mentioned again.
Training Segment: Rest & Recreation
Time: 2100-2200
Description: B-50 is allowed R&R as a reward for her good behavior. Had her performance been poor, R&R would have been replaced with a punishment regime. Sergeant Selicia Goodwin, B-50's assigned handler, has been ordered to provide educational value to the R&R.
Results: Successful. Nothing additional to report.
Training Segment: Orientation 2
Time: 2200-0500(Next day)
Description: Disguised and doubling as bedtime, B-50 is taught in this lesson the value of alertness and awareness. The training segment is also aimed at making B-50 more compliant through capitalizing on B-50's need for connection in a way more beneficial than Professor Utonium's method.
Results: Successful. Nothing to report.
B-50 Training Report 02271989-A
DOC: 27 FEB (Monday) 1989
Created by: General Blackwater
Title: B-50 Training Report 02271989-A
Training Segment: Day 2 Revision
Time: 0500-0630
Description: The revision is meant to test B-50's retention of knowledge and skills. The content of this test is drawn at random from her previous lessons.
Results: Successful. However, B-50 was late for the revision as a side effect of the second orientation, through no fault of her own. Based on Professor Utonium's reports and experience with the prototypes B-47, B-48 and B-49, B-50's neurological make-up are that of a child's, and as such, will act like it, and be sensitive like one.
Training Segment: Vehicular Operations
Time: 0700-1000
Description: B-50 is taught, in this training session, how to drive a wide selection of vehicles. Though the fleet assembled for this use is not exhaustive, it will give her a general overview of the common control schemes found in all vehicles.
Results: Mostly successful. B-50 will be able to operate most vehicles confidently, though not without mistakes. Her carelessness can be remedied with more driving hours, and will eventually be eliminated with experience in the field. She seems to prefer the motorbike issued to her to everything else.
Training Segment: Stealth and Subterfuge
Time: 1030-1230
Description: B-50 is to be taught the art of stealth and field operations taking place behind enemy lines. She will be taught how to sneak, hide and infiltrate and apply it practically to pursue an objective in a simulation.
Results: Successful. B-50 apparently has a talent for sneaking around and tactically achieving the objective without undue expenditure in time and energy. Based on the analysis of the camera feed, she appears to be exhibiting the same developments that would lead to airborne capabilities, such as being able to produce brief spurts of thrusting force from parts of her body - this allowed her to land softly from a great height.
Training Segment: Psychological Warfare
Time: 1330-1430
Description: B-50 is given a quick overview of the human mind and how it responds to stimuli, with an emphasis on fear. She is then encouraged to brainstorm of ways to scare and destroy the morale of hypothetical enemies.
Results: Successful. B-50 was able to create multiple hypothetical scenarios that have been rated by a panel of five judges, which includes members of the security, social services, and psychiatric department, as suitably unnerving. Details will be available once cleared through the administrative department.
Training Segment: Human Anatomy 2
Time: 1430-1530
Description: Building off on the first anatomy lesson, B-50 is, this time, taught the best way to provide first-aid to it, rather than destroy it. The class is taught by combat medic Sergeant Joy.
Results: Successful. B-50 is now certified to provide first-aid.
Training Segment: Interrogation Resistance
Time: 1530-2130
Description: [REDACTED]
Results: Successful. [REDACTED]
Training Segment: Rest & Recreation 2
Time: 2130-0500
Description: [REDACTED]
Results: [REDACTED]
The City of Townsville. Downtown. USDO Headquarters.
27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 2218.
"You need to eat, Bunny," Wiggums tried to encourage the USDO's latest enhanced individual, but she wouldn't even face him. She was lying in her cot, resting on her side and facing the wall with the rabbit soft toy held tightly to her chest. She hadn't even showered and was still a singlet and short jogging pants, both of which smelled of sweat, though they had long dried out. Her left arm was in a sling. Blood had poked through the fabric. "I know what happened to you is terrible, but your father wouldn't want you to starve."
Bunny was silent. Balancing a bowl of soup, on one hand, Wiggums clutched her by the arm and tried to turn her.
"Go away!" Bunny yelped, before swiping her good arm at him, knocking the bowl of soup clean off his hand. "Leave me alone!" She glared at Wiggums childishly, her eyes completely bereft of the same kind of innocence found in her just hours before. One of them was ringed with bruising, as was one of her cheeks.
Wiggums sighed, before picking up the bowl. It wasn't the first bowl of soup that had spilled, and he wasn't the first person to try to coax Bunny into eating something. The drill sergeant in charge of Bunny had… encountered resistance when he tried to get her to shower and eat, as was prescribed by her training program. He didn't succeed and had to be put in the medical wing.
There was a knock on the door, but it opened even when no permission was given to open it. Bunny knew who it was, and she curled up into a fetal position when she heard, with her enhanced sense of hearing, footsteps and breathing consistent with the man who had ordered her ordeal materialized in a previous lesson.
"Wiggums, get the hell out," the voice boomed. Bunny shuddered at the baritone booming. "You're not even supposed to be here." Without a word, Wiggums mopped up the mess on the floor quickly with a piece of rag and left, brushing shoulders with the huge man replacing him.
There was silence after that. Bunny knew that the new presence in the room was watching her. She refused to give him the same respect she used to give. But it couldn't just be that - she was, after all, not even a week old. She was terrified. Angry, too, just like how he taught her, ironically.
"Bunny," the voice said, unconcerned with her fear and anger.
"Look at me," it compelled Bunny to turn and sit up, and she did - not because she truly wanted to, but because her past with the man meant something, and her relationship with the man still do. Despite what he had done to her, she still wanted it to mean something.
She was only able to lay her eyes on the man for a second before her eyes flitted away to the floor, where the remains of her supper were. She could still smell it in the air, and though it was sweet, she didn't have the appetite to recognize the appeal of the aroma.
"I said LOOK AT ME!" the voice strongly compelled her to do so, and this time, Bunny affixed her gaze, confused and upset as it was, on the man before her. It was General Blackwater. The general's massive paw found its way to a chair. The chair screeched as he pulled it towards her and set it down next to her cot. Sitting down, the chair creaking, he growled more calmly: "Tell me about what you're thinking and feeling. I won't yell at you as long as you don't disobey me again."
Bunny could barely keep her face from contorting into a mask of sadness. She took a deep breath and tried to bury her sadness, only for another feeling to take over. Anger.
"You hurt me, Mister Blackwater-" Bunny cried, glaring at the general. She never thought she could do that.
"Douglas Carver. Please call me that," the general corrected the enhanced girl. He looked like he was caught on the fence between wanting to smile and wanting to appeal to the strange bond between them.
"You put me in that- that metal table and you hurt me," Bunny said, her voice and body both shivering with anger born from betrayal. The general couldn't help but smile. Bunny had begun using pronouns, finally. It was a habit he thought she would adopt. The change was catalyzed by torture of all things. "I trusted you, Mister Carver, and you hurt me."
"Bunny, I-" the general wanted to explain things, but found that his words were stuck in his throat. The previous 'lesson' had been traumatic for him too. As cold and strict and severe as the general were, he was never really sadistic. His bloodlust was reserved exclusively for his enemies. "What I did… hurt me too." It was hard for him to admit any form of weakness, even understandable ones, all the same. Given the choice, he wouldn't want to admit that there was a chink in his armor.
"Then why did you hurt me!?" Bunny yelled, crying. She couldn't hold it back. It was impossible for her to understand the general - she'd thought he was harmless, even if loud and abrasive. The only person she liked more was dear old Dad. Yet, not only had he cut her with a scalpel, and shot her with a huge and scary-looking gun, he had pounded her with some kind of a mechanical arm device, something that loan the general greater strength. And he had humiliated her before then by tricking her into getting on the table before fastening her there. He'd torn her uniform away before that, to make her more accessible. She was naked for hours, vulnerable, and not just physically.
And that wasn't even the worst part. He'd said all sorts of things. 'Your family is hiding, Bunny', he'd said. 'I want you to kill them all,' he'd ordered her. 'I want you to plan, verbally, in great detail, how you will kill them,' Bunny would refuse, of course, which would usually be followed by pain, pain which she had never felt before. Pain of all sorts, as if they were different tastes or different kinds of smell.
"It was for your own good, Bunny," the general explained, his growl softer. He felt pain in his eyes, a kind of pain he hadn't felt in a long time. "I was teaching you some important lessons. You need to know how pain feels like… You need to know how betrayal feels like… and now you do. I was teaching you what your enemies would do to you if they have you - that is what they will do to you."
"I hate you!" Bunny cried uncontrollably.
"Good. Hate… is good, Bunny. I've always taught you the right things, haven't I?" the general continued when Bunny fell silent.
"Yes…" Bunny said, reluctantly, still crying.
"This is so it wouldn't hurt as bad when you're out there," the general, sensing that he was breaking ground, went on. "When you're out there, helping your sisters, you can't slow down because of pain, or when supposed friends turn against you. Even if your own sisters turn against you, you cannot stop!"
"But why would they turn against me?" Bunny asked, wiping away tears with her good arm.
"They won't always understand what you're doing, Bunny," the general explained. "They might think you're trying to hurt them when you're actually doing good. Do you understand?"
"I… Yes…" Bunny said, and she was sincere. The general's logic had clicked in her, though it was still hazy. It'd reminded her of Dad, how he would teach her how to walk. She would fall and she would cry, but dear old Dad would continue to push her to walk upright the next hour, the next day until she was more steady and no longer fell down. It'd hurt, but it was good.
It'd occurred to her then that pain wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
"This is important because even your elder sisters won't know that they are doing harm sometimes," the general went on. He took Bunny by the hand, which stiffened up. "But let me tell you what you are, Bunny. It was tough, what I did, but I can see now that you are a loyal, and determined, and strong little girl."
The City of Townsville. Little Tokyo Business Hub. The Tri-Chrysanthemum Twin Tower.
27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 1623.
"-You've continued to serve him well, and he smiles upon you…" a Japanese woman in a red hooded cloak said to a conference table full of Yakuza clan heads, speaking in Japanese. "He knows of your intentions, of your selfishness, but that is immaterial to his generosity - good service must be met with good reward…"
The red-cloaked woman was guarded by two men in similar attire, except better clothed where the woman wore nothing, not even a singlet, not even the shortest pants or underwear or shoes beneath her cloak hanging on her shoulders. How she could stand the temperature outside was beyond the powerful crime lords in the same room as her, but they didn't care; they were mesmerized both by what nakedness was showing in the opening of her cloak and the reward she was about to present them.
A fourth person in hellish red emerged through the portal leading into the conference room, bearing a black casing. He handed it over to the woman at the head of the red procession, who placed it down at her end of the conference table. Opening it, she revealed a collection of four katanas to the men. Taking one out, she unsheathed it, showing off the blade to them. It shimmered in one color then the next, seemingly at random and in mockery of physics. Duranium.
"These blades are forged by the very same hands guiding thousands of His faithful in this city," the Japanese woman said. "It will cut down even the traitorous Shadowkins they call 'The Powerpuff Girls', should they meddle in your affairs…"
"Your master's generosity is much appreciated," the head of the Yakuza, who sat appropriately at the head of the conference table, replied in Japanese. He was wearing a smart business suit of black and white, like half the men at the table. The others had the black swapped for some other dark color. "However, like the bonsai in my garden or my children, friendship and loyalty must be maintained and cultivated anew. I am sure your master has more in mind - the profits we've earned is reward enough. What does your lord desire we do?"
"You have been hard at work, distributing His gift to the many in this part of the city," the woman in red reflected. "He wants you to continue, but swiftly. The unbelievers and traitors in this city are beginning to take notice, and there might come a time in the near future when He will have a use for those who partook in his gift."
The high-ranking members of the Yakuza were confused by what the woman had said. They exchanged looks and whispers for a while before their absolute leader called for silence.
"We'll do as you ask," he said. He stood up, and his underbosses did the same. He bowed, and they followed. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence."
That was when the explosion happened. As if something had detonated on the same floor as them, rocking the office the Yakuza called home. Then there were the shouts and screams and soon, gunshots.
"The Shadowkin traitors are here," the woman in red said, a grin forming on her face. "It seems that His gifts are urgently needed…" With that, she turned around and left the conference room, followed by her cultic attendants.
The City of Townsville. Little Tokyo Business Hub. The Tri-Chrysanthemum Twin Tower.
27 FEB (Monday) 1989. 1627.
Blossom had led Bubbles and Buttercup flying headlong towards the office said to belong to Townsville's very own infamous Yakuza organization. They'd smashed right through the ceiling-high windows, shattering glass, sending shrapnel flying in all directions.
Bossman had pointed out the Yakuza as one of the worst gangs in Townsville, responsible for blackmailing numerous businesses and people, earning huge profits from vices such as gambling and prostitution, usually of the illegal sort, assassinations and, yes, drug trafficking, including the trafficking of various kinds of His Secret. The legitimate businesses they owned were frequently leveraged as criminal fronts to hide their activities.
All hell broke loose the moment they got in. The Yakuza were far more alert than the Exposito crime family. As office workers scrambled to get away, some of whom were wounded by the glass shrapnel, Yakuza enforcers were coming forward to empty their pistols at them, shouting in Japanese.
"Protect the Kumicho!" Bubbles heard one of them bellowing. Taking cover behind a desk, she hovered up and fired her ion beam at several of them, sweeping the bright blue emanation across the office, causing men to scream and sizzle, and electronics to pop whenever they were hit, but the men she'd hit had only been incapacitated - with her ocular energy discharge, it was hard to kill, nor did she want to. Despite this shocking display of her power, a terrifying spectacle to behold, Yakuza enforcers were still charging her, pistols blazing, and when those ran out of ammo, they pulled their wakizashis out.
Feeling a little tired, Bubbles switched to firing with her stockless XM4 Carbine, but she was aiming at their legs, sending men who were caught out in the open tumbling to the floor, writhing, howling and moaning.
Blossom and Buttercup were less concerned with using lethal force, however. Blossom's thermal beam had joined Bubbles' ion beam, but it was searing at men, burning through them. Buttercup was cutting them up with her laser eye beam, if not severing arms and legs, or parts of the limbs, then lobbing heads off. Most of the vengeful sisters' attacks had killed, and Bubbles had seen it all. She couldn't recognize the look on Blossom's face.
And if this all wasn't enough, Buttercup unclipped a high explosive grenade, a gift from Bossman himself, primed it and threw it. As if propelled by a grenade launcher, the grenade killed a Yakuza on impact, and exploded, engulfing several of his associates in the fire, and rocking the floor to its foundations.
"Defend our oyabuns! Kill them all!" Bubbles heard one of the more senior Yakuzas ordering the men around him, despite the horrific casualties and mutilations Blossom and Buttercup had inflicted upon them.
"Bubbles, Buttercup, let's go!" Blossom herself ordered, before jumping out of cover. Feeling merciful, she'd burned an enforcer in the legs instead. Buttercup, however, was far less discriminate. She'd mowed down a group of Yakuzas brandishing swords, shotguns, and pistols with her Stoner light machinegun instead. Bubbles, despite the horror of it all, did not stop firing, whether it was through her eyes or the barrel of her gun, because she knew that she was more merciful - the only merciful being in the Yakuza office, in fact - and a man injured by her wouldn't be a man cut in half by Buttercup or singed to death by Blossom.
They were able to fight their way through with ease. Although the ruthless Japanese killers would hurl themselves at them with no thoughts of self-preservation, inflicting pain with bullets and blades, they were merely speed bumps hindering them from their goals - as Bossman said, killing the leaders of the evil organization will put an end to their foul deeds.
Before Bubbles knew it, they were crashing through the doors leading into the conference room, where the Yakuza high-rankers were. The moment they did, men came at them fiercely with swords and guns and screams - Bubbles was sure they were more afraid than brave.
That was when Bubbles saw it - flashes of… something. Strange colors were coming off some of the blades the Yakuzas were using, brighter than ever before.
Tired from blasting at the bad guys with her Infrared beam, and with her guns out, Blossom seized the closest man by the blade of his katana and gave it a twist, yanking the sword out of his grasp before giving him a punch in the face, sending him flying backwards into his associates, who had to push him aside and continue charging at her. Buttercup followed suit, not because she was out of bullets - and she'd rather kill herself than admit that she was feeling tired - but because she wanted to feel flesh while she pounded on the bad guys.
One of the blades that was shining oddly, of different colors at any one time, was coming really close, and the wielder, some Yakuza underboss with graying hair, was swinging it - and, occupied with twisting the elbow of another underboss, Blossom wasn't aware.
"Look out!" Bubbles shouted, but it was too late - Blossom was struck. It'd all happened in an instant - it was amazing how even normal human beings could be so fast and so strong. There was a spray of blood from Blossom's shoulder before the leader of The Three could reach up for it. "Blossom!"
"They're using those funny-looking metals!" Bubbles warned her other sister.
"I'll show them funny!" Buttercup growled while she was striking down one of the Yakuzas with an overhead drop-kick. Behind her latest victim was another, one who Buttercup could just barely make out was carrying the same kind of sword dangerous to them. Despite feeling tired, she unleashed another burst of laser beam, cutting through the body of the second Yakuza, but not before he was able to get a slash in, cutting through Buttercup's vest and making an ugly, bloody gash down her chest. She screamed as she fell to the floor.
Bubbles had wanted to tend to her sisters' wounds, but there were still numerous Yakuza leaders in the room, so she flew in the thick of it, shielding Blossom, who was the most severely wounded. After launching a rapid flurry of paralyzing punches, Bubbles elbowed one out of the way, and his face was smashed into the wall. Another replaced him, this time while bringing down another Duranium sword on her. All Bubbles could do was block it with her arms, but just when she thought she knew for sure that she was going to lose them, a bright blue energy bubble blocked the blade - the Yakuza's arms were too weak to force it through. It'd sent the man recoiling backward instead.
Taking a peep at Blossom behind her, Bubbles saw that she was leaning against the wall, her strength sapped by the injury she suffered. She thought she could see her wound. It wasn't just the skin that had split. The flesh, too, was rent in two.
Gritting her teeth, Bubbles let out a high-pitched scream before charging into another group of Yakuzas in front of her. It helped that there was only one more criminal with a Duranium blade left, and he was nowhere close to her, nor Buttercup either.
"No one hurts my sister!" Kneeing one in the stomach, Bubbles could hear bone snapping when she did. She punched another in the face next, and the ill-fated man's normal steel katana had done nothing to her except stoke her anger with pain. She was too fast for the third man in her last group, who sustained a kick to the side of his face, fissures breaking out in his skull from the sheer force, loud enough for everyone - or at least whoever was left - in the room to hear.
The last Yakuza to defend his Kumicho had backed away just in time to avoid Bubbles' second kick, and as Bubbles stared him down, he backed away some more, clearly intimidated by the number of bodies in the room that used to be his associates. His shaking sword and arms had given his terror away. Buttercup, in the meantime, had finished off the last Yakuzas on her side too, making it worse for the lone, remaining underboss, as it meant that the only person on his side left was the head of the entire Yakuza organization and clans in Townsville - and he wouldn't be budging until he was alone.
But, pushed by his loyalty to his oyabun, the last underboss lunged forward, sword swinging overhead - only for the blade to be seized by Bubbles, who then swiped at him with a screech, her fingernails cutting his face, causing blood to spurt in great amounts. A bloodcurdling scream escaped his lips before he crumpled to the floor to join his fellow fallen Yakuzas, his sword still clutched in Bubbles' hand.
Blossom, having recovered somewhat from her wound, flew to the edge of the conference table and stood there before the Yakuza boss, still clutching her shoulder.
"We win, Mister Yamo- Yamae-" Blossom struggled to pronounce the Yakuza Kumicho's name.
"It's Yamamoto, you insolent child," the crime boss corrected the leader of the Powerpuff Girls in heavily accented English. He was still clutching the sword the woman in red had given him tightly. It was sheathed, but all three of the Powerpuff Girls knew that it was still dangerous.
"Put down your sword, Mister Yamamoto, and I won't hurt you," Blossom offered the Yakuza. Bubbles had been speaking to her for days now, about how she had changed and how she should still be merciful and kind even to the bad guys - as Dad would tell them to be. She knew how it was like to hide certain facts from Dad and Mom, and she made sure to mention that to Blossom as well, telling her that it was something she should avoid. It simply didn't feel good and wouldn't end well.
"And dishonor my clan? Never!" Mister Yamamoto snarled stubbornly. "If you have any shred of honor at all, you will tell me who ordered this! I should have known about this long before it happened!"
"Don Ricci told me about you," Blossom explained, thinking that perhaps something coming from the Yakuza clan leader's mouth might persuade her to let the man live. "You're a bad man, Mister Yamamoto. You've hurt a lot of people, stolen their things and force them to do stuff. You're a big bully." To be fair, Blossom still couldn't understand what half the things Bossman told her were about. Credit card fraud? What was that even? And what on earth was match-fixing? And prostitution? Or pornography? What Blossom knew, however, was that the Kumicho Yamamoto was also a cold-hearted killer and torturer.
"So, he's finally done it," Bubbles heard the Yakuza boss say in Japanese. There was no surprise in his tone at all. Just resignation.
"I don't understand," Blossom said.
"He said 'he's finally done it'," Bubbles repeated what the boss had said, wondering why Blossom couldn't understand. But Blossom didn't care to understand the criminal.
"Put down the sword, Mister Yamamoto," Blossom repeated her demand again. The man, however, wasn't listening. With his eyes affixed to the floor in a death glare, he gritted her teeth as he held his sword tightly, shivering with fury.
"NEVER!" he shouted, before sprinting towards Blossom, removing the sword from the scabbard and slicing at her with one fluid motion. Blossom flew forward with a punch ready. It had all caught Bubbles and Buttercup off-guard.
The two leaders clashed, then crossed each other. Bubbles saw Blossom's punch connect. The Yakuza's blade had slid across Blossom's neck but… Did he miss?
The singular exchange of blows was over very soon after it started, and it'd ended with Mister Yamamoto convulsing on the ground, having collapsed chest-first, his sword clattering a distance away.
His neck was broken, and his head was hanging loosely on exposed windpipe and gullet in an awkward position, having been punched with such force that the skin in his neck was torn open and the muscles separated. Blood was pooling beneath his neck. He didn't have long to live.
Blossom's hand went up to her neck, feeling something there.
"Blossom? Are you okay?" Bubbles asked, afraid for her sister. Blossom, however, did not reply. She simply turned to look at her… with blood spurting out of her neck, on free-flow and gushing between her fingers. There was a cascade of blood down her neck as well, sprinting down as if in a mad rush to claim her uniform, vest and body as their territory. "Blossom!"
The leader of the Three fell, but Bubbles was able to hold her just in time.
"Y-You're-" the Yakuza patriarch somehow managed to say, despite barely having a neck left. "You're not justice- not goddess- b-bleed like… the rest of…"
And then he was silent.