Chapter 128: Families
The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.
17 MAR (Friday) 1989. 1135.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The Powerpuff Hotline, formerly known as the USDO hotline, rang, its red clown nose shining red in sync with the buzzing. Blossom hovered over to it, still depressed at heart, but healing enough that she could still smile at the thought of being able to float ethereally again.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The clown phone insisted. How everyone knew to seek their help exactly when the Powerpuff Girls had regained enough of their powers to be effective, Blossom couldn't figure out, but it was good that things were returning back to normal. Bunny and Mommy might be gone, but Dad had actually reversed course and begun paying them some attention again. Blossom had feared at first that he might thirst or starve to death, but he had started coming up again, and drinking and eating with them.
"Hello?" Blossom said into the phone. "Who is this?"
"15 Jump Street. 11:50 am. Don't be late," came a voice with no name, no introductions at all. Whoever it was on the other side hung up immediately after delivering the message.
Whatever it was, Blossom had a bad feeling about it.
The City of Townsville. 15 Jump Street.
17 MAR (Friday) 1989. 1156.
Despite pushing as hard as they could, Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup couldn't meet the timing given to them. However, they weren't stood up because of this; not too far away, there was a familiar black car, and a car door was flung open for them to enter.
Inside the familiar black car, they were met with a familiar face. Fedele Palladino. He was alone this time, as if unafraid of them as if he was in control.
The journey to the Lombardi mansion was mostly silent, at least until they were close to the end of it.
"Heard about Bunny's passing," Fedele said solemnly. Blossom made eye contact with him on the rearview mirror. He seemed sincere enough. There were no tears, but the way he looked seem to tell her a story of regret. "I'm sorry you have to suffer through that, I truly am."
"Wait a minute, how did you hear about Bunny?" Buttercup questioned the man mercilessly. She hadn't forgotten how harrowingly close she was to meeting death that day when she was put between an impossibly huge mob of crazed druggies and Duranium sniper fire from above, with most of her enhancements and powers gone.
"Through the TV, of course," Fedele said. Blossom had seen his face while he'd said this, but he had long looked away to concentrate on the road. "She's one-of-a-kind, that kid. Sad to see her go."
At the mansion, they went through the usual routine, walking through the massive mansion, enduring the gaze of the mobsters guarding the area and finally ending up at the door that would lead them to the Amoeba Boys. They were, again, asked to disarm and remove their armor, before undressing and slipping into their mob-approved black dresses.
They had been to the mansion for so many times that they were becoming familiar with the place, almost as if it was a second home, just like kindergarten, except they hadn't been to school for the entire week.
Blossom could recognize where they were going just by the door and corridor. It was the dining hall once again, and with her returning appetite, she welcomed it as it was lunchtime.
The door opened, and sure enough, Bossman, Slim, and Junior were sitting at the dining table, with Bossman at the head and his brothers on either side. As Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup hovered towards them with Fedele strolling confidently right behind them, Bossman smiled, giving them that paternal kind of look.
"Please, sit, sit," he waved a hand at the chairs next to Slim. "Make yourselves at home."
"Yeah, at home," Slim aped Bossman as he bent over his dish, slicing up his medium well-done beef steak.
"At home, indeed," Junior repeated his brother's words, adding his own spice to it. He had a bottle of pepper in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered some on his steak before returning it to the center of the table. He turned to Buttercup and flashed her a wicked smile before leaning back on his chair, waiting.
The Girls took their places. Even their chairs were color-coded so they knew exactly where to sit. It was all planned exceedingly well on the part of the Amoeba Boys. Before the Girls were beef but minced up to make chewing easier even if they didn't need the help. They began digging in. A waiter came by to pour them some wine, something they had been getting used to despite knowing that it was inappropriate for them to drink. Thankfully, the Girls' livers were too efficient for them to get drunk on regular wine.
"You know, we've all heard about Bunny's death," Bossman said in between slices of beef. "She's your sister, no?" Bossman had directed his question to Blossom - he always did. To him, it was a dialogue between leaders, between two exceptional figures.
"Yes, she is…" Blossom said. She closed her as she held back her tears, not wanting to ruin this gathering between the Powerpuff Girls and the Amoeba Boys. "She was… good to me."
"I'm sorry, I really am," Bossman growled. His apology sounded too aggressive, something that even the relatively naive Blossom could make out. She stared at him, wondering what was going on. "Which is why I'm going to tell you the truth about Bunny."
"What truth?" Blossom asked, confused. What other truth could there be, besides everything she knew?
Instead of answering Blossom immediately, Bossman sliced himself another piece of beef. He took his time, chugging it down before slicing off another piece.
"Well, you see, Blossom, I helped kill Bunny," Bossman said nonchalantly and calmly, but Blossom jumped off her seat all the same, wide-eyed. Both Bubbles and Buttercup had stopped what they were doing the moment they heard it, both wide-eyed with shock too.
The Lombardi don simply laughed at their reaction.
"Not in any big way, of course, so don't thank me and don't mention it," he said as if he was having a pleasant afternoon conversation about the furniture, or the weather, or cats. "I provided the drugs, put some addicts in the crowds, and of course, helped that poor sod, Paul Feig, plan the attack. So like I said, Girls, ain't nothing much."
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU-" Blossom exploded, but Bossman simply put up a hand to interrupt her, and somehow, he was able to control her that way, something that baffled even Blossom. Why should she even be listening to him any further after what he'd just confessed?
There was just something about Bossman that scared Blossom, something uncanny and hidden in the dark about him, how his smile often hid guns and knives.
"Before you do anything you might regret, here's a little present from me," Bossman said. He pulled something out of his jacket, slapped it on the table and pushed it towards Blossom. A photo of a very familiar scene.
With her heart pounding, her hands shaking and tears spilling in anger, Blossom picked up the photo and stared at it. She was even zooming her vision twice or thrice at the photo.
It was taken back when she was 'sealing' her friendship with Bossman after he'd helped calmed the city down and lessen the crimes happening on the street through his influence alone. The photo was snapped right when she kissed Bossman's mob ring. She was kneeling down in front of him, and so was Bossman, so that Blossom could reach it.
"What is this about!?" Blossom yelled at Bossman, madder, still, than she was curious.
"Have you forgotten? We're eh, what do you lassies call it? BFFs now, yeah," Bossman sneered at Blossom. "Don't you remember?"
"Haha, yeah, BFFs," Slim repeated Bossman's words, at a time when Blossom had the least patience for it. She clenched her fist as she stared at the photo.
"You work for us now, and if you try anything, I'll let all your friends and family know about our… relationship," the don threatened.
Blossom felt vulnerable the moment Bossman dropped the bombshell on her. She had always known that it was wrong to work with the Amoeba Boys since they were criminals. She knew she had good intentions, but what do other people know? With those good intentions, she had killed many for the Amoeba Boys. Criminals, sure, but people nonetheless, some of whom were likely good people despite their backgrounds. Dad had said so.
Dad would be disappointed if he found out. No, scratch that. Dad would be devastated, destroyed. Blossom even thought that the news would even kill her Dad, with the state he was in.
No, that's not going to happen, not on her watch.
Charging up a quick infrared beam, Blossom burned the photo. The beam was strong enough that it had penetrated the photo and scorched the table underneath. When the deed was once, Blossom looked back up at Bossman, not with triumph in her eyes, but with a mix of residual anger and fear, expecting - no - hoping for him to give her that defeated look.
Instead, Bossman's smile did not fade. It grew wider instead. He reached into his jacket again and pulled out a stack of photos this time, slapping them down on the table roughly before pushing them brusquely towards Blossom.
Blossom was shocked. Bubbles had started sobbing. Buttercup sat where she was, hardly fazed if only because she had nothing to lose even if she was outed as an accomplice of the Lombardi.
All those times when Bossman had photographs taken had been preparation for this moment. There was another copy of a photo of Blossom's 'initiation' into the Lombardi family, as well as pictures of them dining together and talking. Of Blossom drinking wine.
"There's more where that came from, hundreds, my friends told me, just waiting eagerly," Bossman said. "You know, in case anything happens to me. I'm sure everyone would love to know how close we were getting, Blossom, how good of a friend you are to me." He reached for a large, brick-like phone on the table. "You know what? Nevermind that, I'll just get my friends to spread the good news!"
Blossom couldn't believe her eyes, misted as they were from the shock of the revelation. She couldn't believe her eyes when she heard the dial tones of the phone beeping as Bossman began mashing buttons on his phone.
"Wait! Please!" Blossom caved in to the pressure. "Don't!"
"And why shouldn't he? Don't you want your friends and family to know how amazing your acquaintances are?" Junior jibed at Blossom, smiling mischievously at Blossom.
"My Dad-" Blossom blurted out before stopping herself. Bossman stood up, rounding the dining table before coming around behind her.
"What about your Dad?" Bossman whispered into Blossom's ear as he placed his hands on her deceptively fragile-looking shoulders.
"He- he's not well. He'll be disappointed and angry with us and I don't know what's going to happen to him!" Blossom cried, breaking down in tears as she was unable to hold them back any longer. What had she gotten herself into? "Please don't tell!"
"Should've thought about that, missy," Slim said absentmindedly as he smiled calmly whilst putting another piece of beef into his mouth as if he was watching a soap opera unfolding on TV.
"You work for us now," Bossman repeated himself, his hand suddenly grabbing Blossom by the lower jaw while the other arm wrapped itself around Blossom's chest. "Say it! You work for me now!"
Blossom struggled against Bossman, only to discover that he was stronger than she thought. The Amoeba Boys' names were ironic, always had been. The same size as any other mobsters though they were, there was something else going on underneath their jackets.
Bubbles shot up from her seat, but when Slim and Junior did the same, she was dissuaded from trying anything. Buttercup simply continued eating, enjoying the minced beef, as if content with the fact that they had become members of the mafia.
"I- I work-" Blossom struggled to speak, unable to help but feel helpless, again.
"Louder!" Bossman interrupted.
"FINE! I WORK FOR YOU!" Blossom screamed, letting it all out quickly as if vomiting the words out and getting it over with.
"Good," the don said before letting go of Blossom. "And don't you forget that." He snapped his fingers after that, and Fedele came walking towards him, holding a small pack of syringes filled with black liquid. He handed it over to Blossom, gesturing for her to take it when she didn't get the hint. Reluctantly, Blossom took it.
"What do you-" Blossom was about to ask when she was interrupted anyway, for no reason except that it made Bossman felt good.
"Your first assignment. Fedele will drop you off, and you'll deliver it to the cop debriefing you," he said. Bubbles, who could only gawk at it so far, didn't like it one bit. She had been addicted to His Secret 2.0 before, and it felt wrong for her to deliver the same drugs she was once been addicted to, drugs that might cause addictions in others.
"But it's wrong to use drugs! We shouldn't give it away!" Bubbles cried, appalled by what they were being made to do.
"You know, you're in these photos too…" Bossman threatened Bubbles in turn, picking a photo and tossing it at her. It was snapped during one of their lunchtime engagements. Bubbles gasped when she saw it. "What would your father think of you?"
"Why are you doing this!?" she cried, feeling trapped.
Bossman straightened up, crossing his arms with a shark-like smile.
"I'm showing you what it means to be the law in this town," Bossman said. "And in this town, the law works for me. No, I am the law!"
"You're not the law!" Blossom slammed her fists against the table as she glared hatefully at the head of the Lombardi crime family "The law wouldn't go around hurting people!" The moment Blossom said it, however, her faith in her own words, and the law dwindled with every second.
Bossman's smile did not let up, and that had more or less made material what was going through Blossom's mind. All throughout her short life, the law, and its agents had been hurting people indeed - and that included herself, Bubbles, and certainly Buttercup, and even the late Bunny and Mom.
"I made sure the windows stay in one piece! That the streets aren't overflowing with blood! I bring moderation to the basest of human darkness, made sure nothing - and no one - goes too far," Bossman boasted. "And that those who control their darkest desires are rewarded. That will include the three of you from now on. I'm here to show the three of you the good life, a life worth living. Besides, don't you remember, Blossom?"
"Remember what?" Blossom mewled, sick to the stomach, now that the fact that she had fallen under the thumb of a crime lord had sunk in.
"You're part of the family now…" Bossman said, putting his hands back on Blossom's shoulders. "Daughter."
The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.
17 MAR (Friday) 1989. 1948.
Buttercup returned to the living room from the outside, shivering despite the towel wrapped around her neck. For hours since pulling 'the job' for Bossman, Buttercup had been fantasizing about killing and torturing people for hours, spending most of her mental adventures in the walk-in closet like some creature. She was sure that the Amoeba Boys would probably involve them in some kind of a hit, but Buttercup's need was immediate and remained unmet no matter how much she daydreamed about it.
When that became boring, she went out into the lawn after dinner to dig out the dead cat again. It hadn't rotted much, and the process of decomposition had only just begun due to the rapidly rising spring temperatures. She tried talking to it, only for it to be still and dead - as it should be - so she was content with examining the dead cat and witnessing the necrosis setting in to satisfy her morbid curiosity. By the end of it, she was smiling, if messy and covered in mud.
Professor Utonium, who had been sitting by the fireplace, noticed Buttercup when she came in. Like some tired machinery in need of oiling, he stood up, looming over Buttercup as she was coming closer - but not really approaching him. Instead, Buttercup was merely walking by him, completely ignoring his presence.
"Buttercup, come here for a second," the professor said. Buttercup paused for a second at the foot of the stairs leading up, as if deep in thought, or emotions. Eventually, however, she relented, kicked in the mind by something even she could not understand. Some kind of connection with Dad? Love? Or just muscle memory from an irrelevant time when Dad meant something to her?
She turned around, hovering up to Dad, but remembering quickly why she opted to walk. Getting disempowered by Anti-X twice in a short span of time had taken its toll, and she had yet to recover fully from it. Tired, she stood on the arm of Dad's single-seater couch.
"Look at you, mud all over your face and arms. What have you been doing?" the professor wiped some mud away with his hands lovingly, if sluggishly. Buttercup averted her gaze when the professor tried to look her in the eyes.
"Nothing you should care about," Buttercup mumbled at the professor, crossing her arms. The professor's tired smile turned into a frustrated frown.
"What is wrong with you?" he said. "You're still blaming me for your mother's death?"
"You shot her!" Buttercup screamed. "You killed her!"
"She was trying to kill you!" Dad yelled back. "I'm your father! I'm supposed to protect you!"
"Yeah, right," Buttercup snapped dismissively, crossing her arms and turning away from him.
"What do you mean by that?" the professor said, alarmed by what she said, the lack of clarity of it. Was Buttercup disagreeing with him or… disavowing him as her father? "Buttercup, what are you saying?"
Buttercup remained silent, purposefully averting her eyes and crossing her arms, sulking like the little girl she was.
"You think it was easy? Shooting your mother?" Professor Utonium cried. "Selicia and I... We were supposed to be married. Does happily-ever-after mean anything to you? Imagine having that taken away!"
"Hmph," Buttercup simply grunted dismissively. "Can I go now?"
But Buttercup couldn't go, for the professor had noticed the towel wrapped around her neck like a scarf.
"What's this?" he said, not that Buttercup cared, and by the time he ripped it off her neck, it was too late. The professor knew what the towel represented the moment he saw the logo. USDO security. It could only belong to one person. A person he'd loved, who he'd come to hate for how she tried to take everything away.
"Dad!" Buttercup screamed when she turned to look and saw the professor ripping the towel in two. "GIVE IT BACK!"
"You're still IDOLIZING HER despite EVERYTHING!?" Dad yelled madly, traumatic memories coming back to shred his mind apart in turn. "She TRIED to KILL your SISTERS!"
"I don't care!" Buttercup yelled back unthinkingly, just barely holding back from pummelling her own Dad. "Give it back!"
"Then you need to start caring, because this is the only family you'll ever have," the professor said, his voice strangled by both sadness and disappointment. Buttercup's admittance that she cared nothing for her sisters had done a number to him if his mind wasn't broken enough. "And it's shrinking, but Mom is someone you need to forget about!"
With that, the professor tossed the torn halves of the towel into the fireplace, along with a bucket full of photos and Selicia's personal effects. Buttercup dived for it, tossing herself into the fire, and the professor did not expect it.
"BUTTERCUP!"
Immune to fire, Buttercup was nonetheless not immune to the fire obscuring her vision, and the debris complicating the retrieval. She searched and she searched, even as her clothes burned. For a second, she thought she'd found it, but it turned out to be Mom's wedding veil. Before she could finish searching, the professor had reached in with his hands and pulled her out, leaving her crying on the floor. Wasting no time, the professor grabbed a nearby blanket to put out the fire engulfing Buttercup and spreading on the carpet below, and when it was done, he let go of the blanket as the pain had caught up with him.
His hands were still burning, despite the lack of fire. He examined them while gasping in pain as he tried to move his fingers. The skin was raw and red, but the fact that he could still feel pain was actually a good sign. First degree burns, completely reversible… unlike Bunny's death.
The professor's attention turned to Buttercup immediately after that.
She was still crying on the floor, her dress charred and smoking.
"Buttercup, are you alright?" the professor reached for her shoulder, only to be pushed away. Buttercup flew to the second floor like a bullet.
"I HATE YOU!" she screamed at the top of her lungs before disappearing, and the professor sank to the floor, sitting on it, tears welling in his eyes once more as he stared at the black spot where Buttercup was lying.
The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.
17 MAR (Friday) 1989. 2149.
Dad was supposed to tuck Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup into bed, but he hadn't even made it up to the room, at least, that was from Blossom and Bubbles' perspective. Buttercup was already fast asleep, caring little about being tucked in; she was already snoring and drooling in her sleep.
Blossom and Bubbles, however, were concerned. Dad had changed his ways quickly since the morning, being his old self once more, if a little tired and jaded. And depressed. With a dash of spacing out sometimes. Or looking at things that did not exist.
He should have been up in their room to tuck them in, read them a story, kiss them goodnight, and leave the rest to time. Despite their inexperience, Blossom and Bubbles knew that something was wrong, and in the back of their mind, they were afraid that their little criminal secret might have gotten loose.
They went back out of the room in their pajamas in search of Dad. They had searched the corridors and his room before going down to the first floor. It didn't take long for them to notice him as the kitchen lights were on.
Dad was on the floor, leaning against the fridge with a beer can forgotten in his hand. More beer cans were lying by his side.
Blossom and Bubbles flew up to him before landing by his side. He hadn't seen them. His eyes were closed. He was out cold, and judging by the cans on the ground, drunk.
"What do we do?" Bubbles asked as she checked Dad for his pulse and breathing rate. Slow, but steady, as expected from someone who was out cold.
"He's been taking care of us all this time…" Blossom said, kneeling down beside Dad. His hair hadn't been cut for months - a person in his position wouldn't have the time and inclination - and it was covering his right eye. Blossom swept the fringe of hair out of the way, grooming his hair briefly before kissing him in the forehead. "I think it's our turn to take care of him."
"Yeah, let's," Bubbles agreed. "Poor Dad, he must be feeling really sad and tired to just fall asleep in the kitchen like this."
They flew him up the stairs and into his room. After removing his lab coat and shoes, they put him in bed, covered him with his blanket and, reluctantly, left him in his room to sleep off the alcohol in his system.