Chapter 129: Corruption

The City of Townsville. Sewers. Unknown District.

18 MAR (Saturday) 1989. 1805.

Screams echoed in the deep, dark underbelly of the City of Townsville, heard only by rats and cockroaches and vagrants at most. A woman with raven hair half as long as she was tall knelt over a pool of still water, watching herself as her hair curled and flexed as if possessing a life of its own. Beside her was a young man, a former soldier and now a naked corpse, rendered as such by a means embarrassing should it ever be known - the creature that had seduced him had literally fucked him to death, though to be fair, it was the asphyxiation that eventually killed him.

The creature focused on its appendage-like hair, and slowly, she was even able to control it, if briefly. It was like learning how to walk. In time, she believed that she would be able to use them as if they were extra sets of arms. However, her memories would not let her be.

"Thomas…" she cried. No, she would not take her time. She needed to return to her lover's side as quickly as she could. To seize him as her own, as it should be! However, another set of memories, returning just in time, reminded her why she couldn't just waltz into The House.

"Powerpuff Girls!" the creature screeched madly in the dark as she glared at herself, at the set of eyes which glowed hellish red as she grew madder and madder. "Blossom… Bubbles… Buttercup… You'll pay for what you've done!"

The City of Townsville. Outskirts. Precinct 67.

18 MAR (Saturday) 1989. 1806.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup took off at the entrance of the police station they visited. They had to make another delivery, this time in the form of a small parcel containing thousands in laundered money, meant to pay corrupt cops to turn the other cheek.

The Girls were miserable, with the exception of Buttercup, who didn't care how deep her team had sunk into corruption. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing to corrupt in the first place. Everything was a lie, and everything that was ever fun for her was taken away.

When they were back at home, they had to be evasive about their activities outside. But with Professor Utonium dealing with demons of his own, he asked little about their adventures, merely 'how did it go?'. Hiding illicit activities from him was elementary.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

19 MAR (Sunday) 1989. 0950.

Blossom opened her eyes. She had been miserable when she went to sleep the previous day, but it was different when she woke up. Her dream had been pleasant, where previous nights were hosts to nightmares born from Bunny's death.

Last night, she ran and took flight to catch up with a retreating Bunny.

"Bunny! Wait! Stop!" Blossom had screamed in that dream. "Please, I'm sorry! There's so much I want to say to you!"

For a while, it seemed as if it was just another fruitless pursuit of her dead sister, through what appeared to be a black hole of no return, until the surrounding vortex lit up, bright as dawn, the faint smell of various flowers filling the air, if there was any there. Bunny had stopped running away altogether, and Blossom was able to catch up, landing next to her.

It was unreal, but since it was a dream, it was supposed to be. Bunny had her back turned.

"Bunny?" Blossom cried, unable to believe that she was finally right beside her youngest sister, the sister she had wronged most utterly. She was just feet away from her.

Blossom came closer, and when she did, Bunny turned around. She was just as she remembered. Eyes glowing purple, brown hair tied in a ponytail. Every curve and crevice on her face was committed to memory, reinforced by the mistakes Blossom had made.

Bunny was looking at her as though afraid and wary of her.

"I'm sorry," Blossom cried, coming closer with her arms outstretched. "I'm sorry for everything!"

"So am I," Bunny replied before accepting Blossom's hug. For a good, long moment, they hugged. "I'm sorry, too…"

"For what?" Blossom said as she pressed her face into Bunny's chest. All she had was her uniform on, so it was soft, and warm, and fuzzy.

"For leaving you…" Bunny said, and before Blossom knew it, she was staring at the ceiling of her room, left behind by the ghost in her dreams with that warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart.

Breakfast was a subdued affair. Dad and Buttercup weren't on talking terms, and Blossom and Bubbles did not know why. Sure, they knew about what she had done in the past, but shouldn't all that be ancient history by now?

Blossom and Bubbles had hardly spoken to Dad as well - he didn't appear to be in a talkative mood. His smiles did not come easy and he would avoid making eye contact at all times as if he had something to hide from them. Was it shame? Defeat?

But at the very least, he was taking care of them once more. He had begun cleaning up The House, and Blossom, Bubbles, and even Buttercup (with some persuasion from her sisters) helped. When the day's chores were done, and The House was more hospitable, the professor got them to play in the lab instead while he worked on his backlog, filing reports that were owed to the USDO.

Lunchtime went by, but the day would have been uneventful had it not been for another call from the Powerpuff Hotline. Before it even reached The House, Blossom already knew that she would be summoned, and sure enough, it was the same voice, giving them another time, another address. Blossom and her sisters would be driven to the Lombardi mansion once more, where the usual rituals were followed through.

By now, Blossom had no doubt that these rituals - when they would give up their weapons and armor and change into the clothes they want them to wear - was meant to inconvenience them. What she couldn't know, then, was that there was a power struggle even when she didn't know it, and she was losing. She had been imposed upon, after being impressed into the Don Ricci's service, and being forced to dress the way he wanted it was a secret source of pleasure for the don - the almighty Powerpuff Girls, doing everything he told them to! Right down to the clothes they wear!

The mood in the air had changed when Blossom, flanked by her sisters, entered the library where the Amoeba Boys were nestled in, like distant creatures of myth. They sat behind their long table, each reading their preferred literature as they waited for the Powerpuff Girls. Bossman was skimming through a book on Italian history, while Slim was powering through a technical manual on gun maintenance. Junior was reading a comic book. He'd put it down before any of the Girls could see what superhero he was following.

Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup did not budge after they were pushed through the door. Neither did Bossman say anything when he saw how hesitant and cowed they were. Instead, he smiled over his book and gestured by wiggling his finger for them to come to him, like good little children or servants.

And they obeyed. Even Buttercup wasn't happy about this arrangement. She preferred to be in control - and without understanding it totally, to be the one in power.

"Be just as slow the next time, and there will be punishments," Bossman growled. The Girls mewled apologies and promises that it wouldn't happen again. "I have a task for you rascals, but first…" He snapped his fingers. A servant came up to him with a tray holding two glasses of wine. "That's for Bubbles and Buttercup." The servant had even chosen the glasses of wine for them.

When Blossom didn't get one, she didn't mind. She didn't want anything from the don. All along, he'd always wanted something in return, far more than what he had given.

The Don Ricci picked up his own glass of wine and raised it.

"To our new relationship," he said with a smile. "Let's hope it blossoms into something fruitful. I say we drink to it." Blossom's heart sunk even further when she heard how her new 'godfather' had played with her name.

Bubbles and Buttercup hesitated once more, only to tip their glasses over their mouths when the Amoeba Boys glared at them collectively.

Bubbles gasped. There was something wrong with the wine she drank. It had that spicy taste, that overly-warm and overly-refreshing aftertaste. Staring at the glass, it wasn't what was contained in it that shocked her.

It was the fact that her eyes had glowed red once more.

"No!" Bubbles screamed as she dropped the glass and fell to her knees, covering her eyes in shock. Buttercup was puzzled. She had seen what had happened to Bubbles but she couldn't feel a thing after drinking the wine. Looking at her own wine glass, she saw green, glowing eyes staring back. It hadn't happened to her. Her wine wasn't spiked with His Secret 2.0.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" Bossman said. "I thought you wouldn't mind a little extra ingredient? It was your favorite, from what I was told." He laughed. Blossom immediately rushed to Bubbles, hugging her as she stared hatefully at Bossman.

"Why did you do that!? She didn't do anything to you!" she yelled at Bossman, while smile did not disappear, indicating no fear nor concern.

"I'm fine…" Bubbles said. "I- I can control myself. It's not a lot…" What she didn't say was that it had brought her addiction back - a month of hard work in kicking the habit was gone with just a glass of spiked wine.

"Why are you doing this!?" Blossom screeched at Bossman, whose smile was still maintained.

"It's the fruit of your labor. Don't you just love it, Bubbles dear?" he said while standing up and looking closer at Bubbles, whose face was riddled with struggle and trying not to let the light euphoria and desire for more take over. Without warning, he went around the table, coming towards Blossom, who stiffened up and shrank away from him as he grabbed her by the collar.

"You're MEAN!" Blossom screamed.

"Oh no, no, no. This would not do," Bossman said cryptically as he pulled Blossom towards the door. Blossom was too afraid to resist, and like an unwilling dog, stumbled along as Bossman tugged her by the collar. "Shouting at me disrespectfully in front of my associates simply does not fly. I'm afraid I'm just going to have to teach you the hard way."

"Blossom!" Bubbles screamed, turning on her knees to watch her leader sister getting dragged through the door. Buttercup watched with mild interest, before sipping the rest of her wine.

"Hey, er, Buttercup, wanna learn a card game?" Slim offered, pulling out a stack of cards, with a king of clubs on top.

"Sure," Buttercup smiled as she abandoned Bubbles to her inner struggles while Slim shuffled his deck.

The City of Townsville. Outskirts. Lombardi Mansion.

19 MAR (Sunday) 1989. 1353.

Bossman had dragged Blossom all the way to a bedroom of some kind. Tossing Blossom to the center of the room, the mob boss went to the wardrobe to get something. Blossom took a look around the room. There was a huge king-sized bed in the middle of it. The furniture was comparable to those outside - ornate, rich, and intricate, like something that could be found in an old plantation manor.

Returning her eyes to Bossman, she was just in time to catch sight of some kind of a dress thrown her way. Catching it, she saw that it was a kind of dress she had never worn before, not even with Selicia deciding chunks of her wardrobe. It looked like it would be undersized for her, with the skirt rather short and no shoulders to speak of, with just thin strips of fragile-looking fabric to hug her shoulders. The material was almost translucent as it was thin as if a single touch could tear it. Once again, it was black in color.

"Put the pajamas on," Bossman ordered her. Blossom looked down at the dress, or what amounted to a roll of fabric that could barely pass as one. She shook her head. Something was off, even dangerous, she could feel it. "I said put it on. I've warned you, Blossy, and now you're making things worse."

Pushed to a corner, Blossom got up and made for the adjoining washroom reluctantly, back hunched and head low.

"Where do you think you're going?" the don boomed. Blossom turned around almost mechanically, her will sapped.

"You told me to change…" Blossom said, afraid to look at her new 'godfather' lest he showed her how mad he was.

"Yes, but I didn't tell you to do it in the washroom," he said, before finding a seat by a dresser, crossing his legs and leaning against it. "Do it here. You're not getting out of my sight."

"But Dad said I'm not supposed to-"

"I'm your new dad now," the don said. "You're hesitating again. Looks like you have a lot to learn, Blossy." Blossom froze. "No? You, get one of her sisters up here!" There was a servant in the room, who Blossom did not notice at first.

"Which one?"

"The blue one. Yeah. Bubbles. and make it-"

"Wait! Don't!" Blossom interjected quickly, before hesitantly undoing the pink sash on her waist.

"Do you know why I'm doing this, Blossy?" Bossman growled as he stared at Blossom while she let her sash slip down to the ground and began pulling up her skirt. She shook her head in the meantime, feeling shame - that kind of shame - for the first time. Bossman laughed. "Don't worry, I don't have a thing for little girls. I like em' much older. It's nothin' to do with that."

"It's about respect," Bossman continued growling. Blossom had pulled off her dress - which wasn't hers either - completely off, but her 'godfather' frowned instead. He gestured for the rest of it to be removed. "The boys and gals here. They listen to me. Completely and without doubt. Without hesitating even if I ask them to jump off a cliff." He frowned again as Blossom had paused once more. "Something which you're not doing." She knew what he meant, and off came her undergarments.

"But there's one other thing you need to learn, Blossy," the don said as Blossom began putting on her skimpy black tissue-thin 'pajamas'. "We're family now, and you're going to have to act like one. Ain't nothing wrong with a baby daughter changing in front of his father - hell, I'd help you if I weren't teaching you some facts of life."

Blossom stood awkwardly in front of him, legs closed and hugging herself. The paper-thin dress didn't feel comfortable. In fact, she could barely feel any fabric or weight on her skin at all, which was very unlike the PJs she had at home. She couldn't help but glare at the Don Ricci for everything he was putting her through.

"But you're still looking at me that damn way like I shat in your cheerios," Bossman quipped with a vague, dangerous smirk. He snapped his fingers, and the only other person in the room - a servant - brought him another glass of wine. "Which is why I'm grounding you." He held out the glass of wine to Blossom. "Drink this."

"B-but I don't want to-"

"DRINK!" Bossman boomed, making Blossom jump. Reluctantly, the leader of The Three took the glass of brackish wine in both hands, and after another moment of ill-decided hesitation, tipped it over her mouth. Afraid of more consequences, she began swallowing the whole thing like a sink would drain wastewater. Midway, she retched at the taste, but she was able to down it quickly.

She felt lightheaded and dizzy almost immediately.

"It's a special brew I made for you - or rather, for people like us. See, we 'enhanced individuals' as you USDOs called us, are one-of-a-kind. We have the stomach for drinking games and binging contests, but it sure took the fun out of it," Bossman said as Blossom swayed on her feet. "It's high percentage alcohol, with a dozen pills powdered and thrown in for good measure, just so we get to feel normal."

Blossom didn't catch all of it. She could barely even see anymore, and hearing was a problem. But she could make out the shape of Bossman expanding, feel something big closing around her hand and leading her like a dog towards the bed. She felt herself being lifted off her feet, before being put in bed. Somehow, despite her apprehensions, the soft mattress and bedsheet underneath felt good and comfy.

The last thing she saw were flashes of light, and even in her dazed state, she knew she was being photographed.

"N-nooo…" Blossom mumbled as she couldn't help but fall asleep.