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Chapter Text

A/N: This here is the new prologue, and the previous one will be removed and placed in the second arc as the prologue there. However, I will leave this prologue at the bottom for a few days, and the old prologue above for the same amount of time for the sake of you guys, my readers. Cheers!

A/N: (5 JAN 2019) I've decided to give this prologue another fresh coat of edit, with some additional but minor details added. Surprisingly, no major additions are made so far, despite my pessimistic expectations. This prologue wasn't written and edited in the best of times.

"He who fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." - Friedrich Nietszche

Prologue: Shape of Things to Come

Townsville. Business District. Morbucks Industries Research Labs.

{String corrupted} DEC 1988 {String corrupted}

"Why are you still fighting, Blossom?" a voice questioned, the emotions surrounding its words a blank, though they were in danger of breaking through. It was a male voice; nasally, and if one was savvy enough when it came to the various cultures of the United States, one could place it in the New York region, Italian descent. "What reasons do you possibly have? To fight for those who hate you?"

Blossom, despite the state of her being, could hear the man's voice loud and clear, over her own loud panting, over her own heavy heartbeats. It wasn't that the man was wrong; it was just that neither was she.

She opened her eyes once more. For a wild second, she thought that she might find herself in bed, waking up from a crazy nightmare. Instead, she was still there, in the empty parking lot before the huge laboratory complex owned by Morbucks Industries, bleeding on the ground as she knelt on one knee, having been bested by her gangly opponent. She shuddered and whimpered as she could feel the cold winter air seep into her wounds, and her blood seeping out from the numerous cuts that had gone through her dark red SWAT helmet, vest, and uniform.

Before her was a curious man who looked nothing like the others on the street or those who had fought against her. The tall, lanky man wielded an equally strange curved sword with a handle long enough to be held with two hands, the sharp edge of its blade shimmering and reflecting the different spectrum of light one time or the other at random intervals. But that wasn't the weird part.

The weird part was his skin, which was green in hue, as if he had been afflicted with some sort of skin disease or another, but the only 'disease' he was afflicted with was a dose of Chemical W, which had enhanced every respect of his body's physical performance, and although his enhancements were no match for Blossom's, his experience had more than made up for it.

And he wasn't the only one of his kind, just as Blossom had two sisters. Behind this green-skinned man were four others of all shapes and sizes, kept back from piling on top of Blossom by the command of their gang boss, mentor, and oyabun - the tall, lanky man, known only as…

The street samurai, Ace. Towering over Blossom but not really muscular at all, his frame was nonetheless a facade to those who would underestimate him. In operations such as this one, he wore a combat vest over black cargo gear. His belt was for holding his sword and submachinegun, but he had drawn the former and thrown the latter to the ground when he initiated his duel with Blossom. His most defining feature, however, was his face. He wore a thin, immature mustache, which betrayed his young age, which would have been a surprise to many because of his occupation. Hiding his eyes, which were usually puffy and pink, was a pair of angular shades, which he wore whether it was day or night.

Blossom did not reply the man. Instead, she glared at him, before jumping up and flying towards him at breakneck speed, despite the blood she was losing. In a blink of an eye, she was next to Ace, throwing a multi-ton punch at him, but Ace had already dodged out of the way, a move that seemed effortless. She could feel the sharp blade of his sword slicing through her back after that, just as she was changing her course and delivering a roundhouse kick at him, which Ace, again, dodged simply by ducking slightly under and to the left. Blossom had followed it up seamlessly with a punch, but Ace was simply no longer there. Instead, she could see him at a corner of her eyes, swinging his sword at her; sticking her arm out, she blocked the swipe by intercepting the hand wielding the sword.

With her other hand, Blossom thrust a straight punch aimed at Ace's throat, a kill-shot, which Ace nullified by headbutting her fist. Talented and experienced though he was, he did not expect his counter-move to hurt too much, so he stumbled back, slightly stunned, just as Blossom retreated, clutching her fist, which she couldn't unfurl anymore because of the paralyzing pain.

Sensing an opportunity, Ace charged at Blossom, his sword, his deadly demigoddess-killer, not far behind. Afraid, Blossom stared at Ace's chest, and willed her eyes to heat up, and out came a twin beam of red, concentrated heat energy.

The beams were hard to dodge, considering that they travelled at the speed of light, but Ace had anticipated it, and before Blossom could do any damage beyond singing his Kevlar vest, he sidestepped the beams and was up close to her within a tick. The enhanced little girl had tried to turn her head to burn him with her beam, but he had gotten up behind her and seized her by the forehead and chest, such that she couldn't turn her head to adjust her aim. Her brilliant red beam of heat shot into the sky harmlessly and she struggled and fought against the man restraining her. Her arms were similarly trapped by Ace's grasp. It was an unpleasant sensation, being restrained by a sweaty criminal invading her personal space.

The moment she felt the street samurai's blade on her neck, she knew that all was lost, and she ceased the flow of her heat beam. She gasped tiredly, but also because she was mortally afraid of what might happen next.

"Stupid, naive little girl," Ace condescended, but he had other reasons for saying so. "You think they'd appreciate you for what you're doing? They'll toss you aside the moment they think you're useless."

"That's not true! You're lying!" Blossom shrieked. There were so many good people in the world, just as there were so many bad ones, and this Ace was one of them for saying such things, for working with the very same people who had hurt her sisters, Bubbles, and Buttercup. She knew he was lying, because among the 'normal' people of the world was her Daddy, Professor Utonium, her Mom, Agent Blake and his men, those good men. There was General Blake, Psychiatrist Alice, and so many other good people.

"Am I? Or are they?" Ace challenged her claim rhetorically.

Townsville. Business District. Morbucks Industries Research Labs.

{String corrupted} DEC 1988 {String corrupted}

Elsewhere at the Morbucks Industries Research Labs, Bubbles and Buttercup were racing into the building itself, where they could hear the rapid staccato of gunshots. Buttercup had heard it long before they came to the scene because of her enhanced sense of hearing. That was how they knew where to go before they had to leave Blossom.

They were armed and armored to the teeth like Blossom, though unlike Blossom, they hadn't tossed their weapons to the ground in the name of 'fairness' and 'honor', as Ace had put it. Dressed in full SWAT gear, with helmet, vest, guards on knees, elbows, shoulders, and thighs, they were practically ready for war. As they hadn't learned to project heat or do anything similar like Blossom, their USDO-issued weapons were far more important to them. Bubbles was armed with a stockless XM4 carbine while Buttercup had a Stoner LMG. They both had MP5s for backup and compact P226s as last resorts. But their personal armory was nothing compared to what they were created with - raw physical strength, speed, and agility, among other things - and who knew what else, as they were always discovering new abilities.

"Those poor people! We have to save them, Buttercup!" Bubbles exclaimed halfway to the building. As they were running, streaks of light were trailing behind them - Bubbles' was baby blue while Buttercup's was lime-green.

"Who cares!? I'm just here to kick some butt!" Buttercup replied, just before they busted through the entrance into the labs. When they did, they found themselves in some sort of huge and wide-open reception area. There was enough space to hold a party for hundreds, and a party was likely held during Christmas not too long ago, as streamers and Christmas trees and other Yuletide-themed decorations were still hanging. Before them was a reception area where a dozen or more receptionists could be working.

But there weren't any receptionists there to greet them, for they were either at home (fortunately) or forced to sit on the floor behind the desks at gunpoint by masked terrorists.

Bubbles and Buttercup weren't alone, and the Foundation wasn't going to make it easy for them. As soon as they were inside, eight or so men popped out of the reception desks. More had been patrolling the reception hall, and they sprinted into cover behind pillars and furniture. Snipers took up positions on the second floor overlooking the first. They were all a ragtag army of misfits, with no standard uniform, bringing in a wide range of equipment.

Bodies were scattered throughout the hall. They were mostly security guards employed by Morbucks Industries, but a few had been SWAT officers belonging to a rapid response force deployed by the USDO, the United States Defence Organization, the same organization who had employed Professor Utonium, who created Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, also known notoriously as 'The Three' by Townsville, under Project Powerpuff.

"Not so fast, you two!" one of the terrorists warned as he dragged one of the receptionists before the two subjects of Project Powerpuff. "One wrong move and this pretty lady here is dead! Just turn around and walk away, little lasses, and things won't get ugly!"

Buttercup smiled from ear to ear her sadistic smile, in anticipation of what was coming. It was men and women like the terrorists arrayed against them right now who made her suffer - she couldn't remember all of it, but from what Professor Utonium and Blossom said, she was actually killed at the Townsville Port, only to be brought back again. They were going to pay for how she was hurt and humiliated, and she was going to make sure they do so with interest. Bubbles, too, was mortally wounded and nearly killed by sniper fire, but Buttercup cared much less about that.

Without saying a word, Buttercup charged to the middle of the reception hall and jumped up high.

"Buttercup, no!" Bubbles screamed, but it was too late. The terrorist who warned them shot the receptionist he was holding in the head and let the corpse fall, the blood streaking in the air. He hadn't been bluffing at all, and both of the little girls knew it. Bubbles stared in horror when Buttercup's rashness and selfishness had caused another death.

The terrorists responded by doing what criminals do best - raining on their parade with a storm of lead, which Buttercup laughed off as the metal raindrops bounced off her skin when she did a double-jump to get to the second floor. Sure, they were painful and annoying from the way they pushed her around, but she had gotten used to it over the course of multiple battles, not that bad guys like them could ever aim straight.

"Buttercup, what about me!?" Bubbles screamed as she covered her face when the terrorists on the ground floor started shooting at her too, shredding away bits of her combat gear and uniform at the same time. Buttercup did not respond from the second floor, which was typical of her. Left to her own devices, Bubbles ran for cover behind a pillar, which the terrorists soon began peppering with bullets in earnest.

Buttercup could hear it - there were more terrorists deeper inside the complex, engaging in a firefight against the remainder of whatever Morbucks security forces were still present and loyal, backed only by a small cadre of USDO rapid response teams. Why they were here to shoot and kill, Buttercup did not know. Buttercup did not care. She was just here to shoot and kill, and shoot and kill she did: Having double-jumped to reach the second floor, she vaulted over the railing and unslung her huge Stoner light machinegun. As the terrorists were scrambling to rearrange their battle line in a vain attempt to respond adequately to Buttercup, the tomboy began firing freely, mowing down the most stubborn of them all - several men and women who had stood their ground and continued their sustained barrage of assault weapons firing.

On the ground floor, Bubbles peeked out of her cover - her weapons wasn't even drawn yet. But what she saw at the reception area had her reconsider her peaceful ways. A terrorist with a revolver was pointing his gun at one of a group of other hostages, all of whom were forced to kneel on the floor and put their hands on their heads - they were receptionists and all-nighter office workers mainly. Only one of the hostages was prepared to die, and he was a badly wounded USDO soldier who continued to insult and spat at the terrorists even from his helpless position. Another terrorist had to pistol-whip him into silence. The other hostages looked terrified; whimpering and begging, crying and wailing and trying to reason in broken gasps and barely intelligible words between sobs with their captors.

'BAM!' the moment the revolver terrorist shot one of them in the head, in cold blood, Bubbles could feel her blood chill, her bones frozen to the core. Almost nonchalantly, the executioner terrorist cocked his revolver and moved on to the next gibbering, pleading and helpless civilian in line. That was when Bubbles flew into action, literally, even though she hadn't quite mastered flight yet.

Bubbles' flight path was unsteady, but her aim was true. Slamming into the executioner, she sent herself and the evil, bad man flying halfway across the hall, tumbling the rest of the way. He was dashed upon a pillar, and Bubbles got to use him as a cushion. A sticky, bloody cushion. But she didn't have time to be mortified by her own actions. More terrorists were shooting at her on the ground floor, and some of them had shot her in the chest, which hurt more because of the wounds there, which were still mending from the Duranium shells that had tore through her days ago.

"Stop it!" Bubbles cried as she felt more bullets were pouring in from all sides, stinging her everywhere.

Back on the second floor, Buttercup had just run out of ammunition for her machine gun. Although she had a couple more boxes hanging on her vest, she had never cultivated a habit for reloading - it was just too much work in the middle of a hairy situation. Instead, she dropped her machinegun and closed in on the remaining terrorists she did not gun down.

They were still hiding behind pillars and walls, unlike her. Through this, Buttercup knew that the bad guys she was up against were afraid of her. They were cowards, and since she, Buttercup, had no need to hide, she was the opposite of that. Running towards a pillar and curving around to get a good view of the two terrorists taking cover there, she launched herself at them foot-first as they were desperately firing their weapons - a shotgun and a submachinegun. The first one ducked just in time, so Buttercup had ended up splattering the second man against the wall. The force of the impact was so strong that her foot had sunk all the way into the terrorist. She could feel organs and spine alike pulverizing against the wall, with blood getting squeezed out like juice out of an orange.

The terrorist she missed didn't last much longer. The outmatched woman had done the smart thing - running away. She just wasn't fast enough. Buttercup had caught up to her within a second, driving her fist through her back, completely destroying her heart, and before her body had hit the floor, Buttercup was already sprinting away, green trail in her wake, searching for other prey. She didn't have to look far, as more were taking cover behind Greek pillars, and she simply smashed through one to get at another terrorist.

Back below, Bubbles had taken refuge behind a pillar, panting as she was clutching her chest. It was hurting very badly from being aggravated by gunshots. In the middle of the reception area, the civilian she saved had taken to hiding behind the reception desks. The lone fighter among them, the USDO soldier, had resumed fighting by taking down the terrorist who had pistol-whipped him while he was distracted, looting his corpse and shooting back at the terrorists, only to attract too much attention and jeopardizing his life along with his fellow hostages'.

Bubbles was forced to act again, dashing to the columns where the ground floor terrorists were arrayed against the hostages and her. Not wanting to kill even if the situation warranted it, she gave the first Foundation agent a push, and when he was on the floor, punched the daylights out of him. When there were two, she would give the two of them a push before punching them hard enough to knock them out too, all the while getting shot at, the only good news being that they hadn't figured out her weakness in the chest yet.

Back above, Buttercup was finishing off the remainder of the second-floor terrorists. The remaining few were huddled against the railing as she had corralled them off against it. There was just the three of them left, and two of them had run out of ammo for their main armaments and were popping off shots at Buttercup with their pistols. The tomboy ran towards them, speeding into a sprint, before tackling the three of them, the sheer force of her attack destroying the railing behind them, breaking bone against metal, throwing the terrorists off the second floor. They plunged back to the ground floor, Buttercup and her victims screaming, the former with joy and ecstasy, the latter men with fear as they were either killed or were severely maimed by the fall.

There were no more gunshots after that. The reception hall was still. When Buttercup got up to dust herself off, shaking dented bullets off her vest and uniform, there was one more challenge she had to face: Bubbles.

"You left me behind, Buttercup!" Bubbles screeched as she marched up to her sister, one hand clutching her chest, the other pointing accusingly at Buttercup.

"Hey, you did fine, didn't you?" Buttercup countered, crossing her arms. "Looks like the first time you stood up for yourself. I'm surprised you survived, Bubbles."

"Survived? Survived!?" Bubbles came up to Buttercup, almost in a panic, seizing her by the vest. "They were killing me, Buttercup! They were hurting me really badly! And those poor people! Why, Buttercup!?"

"Bubbles! Get off me!" Buttercup yelled, pushing her sister off her, overdoing it, as she had pushed her to the ground, and she had exerted too much pressure on her chest.

Bubbles fell to the ground, clutching her chest with both her hands. "Ow!" she cried.

"Wha- I didn't even-" Buttercup said, unable to believe that Bubbles could react so severely to a push. "Stop being such a crybaby and get up, Bubs!"

"I'm telling Daddy after this!" Bubbles sobbed, tearful.

"But I was just-" Buttercup was genuinely shocked at the consequence of her actions. Had Blossom been here, she would have made sure the consequences were worse for Buttercup. But she wasn't here. Knowing her sisters, Buttercup knew that Bubbles would likely tell on her, if not with Blossom then with their Daddy, Professor Utonium. "I didn't even mean it!"

"Then say sorry and I won't tell," Bubbles offered both her proposal and a hand for Buttercup to right her wrong by pulling her up. "Please?" She still had a hand on her chest, because her 'old' wound still hurt.

Buttercup accepted the hand and pulled Bubbles to her feet, but she kept her mouth shut, and was anything but apologetic as she arched her eyebrows and frowned at Bubbles. As far as she was concerned, Bubbles was wrong for being so weak and vulnerable

But before either of them could say anything else, they could hear footsteps, numerous sets of them. More Foundation-affiliated terrorists were streaming in from deep within the complex. Bubbles gave a shivering sigh.

They began shooting, and one of them pointed an odd-looking weapon at them. A huge-calibre beast, crudely made with no magazine attached, the moment it was fired, the entire assembly of the weapon split apart in an explosion, and the shooter himself was injured by the chamber explosion. The strange shooter tumbled to the ground, unmoving. The bullet that was fired had hit Buttercup. For a moment, it felt like any other weapon, but when she looked down, she saw that there was a hole in her arm, and it was bleeding profusely, the blood already staining half her right sleeve. The sight scared her - it was the first time ever that she had been wounded by gunshot. She felt faint and sunk to the ground as she was moaning and crying in pain. It wasn't any ordinary bullet. It was made of Duranium, just like the ones that were fired upon Bubbles.

Bubbles knew better what to do - she'd been there before, and her wounds had been far worse. She pulled Buttercup into cover behind a pillar.

"This is Delta-Three, where's our reinforcement!? My squad is losing ground and civilians are dying! We need backup! Please! Over!" one of the USDO rapid response team soldier said over the radio. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup could hear it loud and clear, wherever they were.

The defensive operation was falling apart, despite the Girls' best efforts, despite the USDO's perfect execution and performance. It was at this critical moment, as Blossom was brought low once again, as Buttercup was unexpectedly injured and Bubbles had to cower with her, that all of 'The Three' could not help but to think back to the past, and reminisce about the simpler times, back when life was free of worry, free of pain. Sure, there were times when they were miserable, but Daddy and Mommy were always there to make things right. With her eidetic memory, she could remember those days, right up to the very second she had awakened for the first time…

Chapter Text

File 1: Project Powerpuff

DOC: 2 MAR 1967

Updated: 17 JUN 1987

Description: Project Powerpuff is an idea conceived by the Organization in 1967, during the Vietnam War, as a desperate measure proposed to the US government when the war was projected to be a defeat. The codename is derived from the nature of the chemical, and meant to throw off any potential agents investigating it as to what its intentions are.

Project Powerpuff has changed throughout the years, but some details remain consistent. One consistency is the utilization of Chemical X, named after the alphabetical character used to designate its position in a series of refinement trials and coincidentally, the alphabetical character used to redact the actual scientific and technical long-form used to refer to it (I.e Chemical XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX).

Chemical X was discovered in trace amounts in a classified location in Egypt, during an archaeological dig which had since been suspended and buried. The coordinates to its location has been broken down into parts and handed to key leadership personnel such that only a full subversion or subjugation of the Organization will stand a chance at unlocking it.

Originally, Project Powerpuff was meant to weaponize Chemical X by developing a method to intravenously infuse soldiers with it, using its properties to create super-soldiers (forgive the obsolete term) capable of destroying entire armies on their own. However, early trials were rushed haphazard projects that were underfunded and undermanned, resulting in the death of thirteen volunteers drawn from the US army and the mutilation and escape of subjects A14-A16 into the jungles of Vietnam. Their current whereabouts are unknown, but since their escape, there have been tales of vengeful ghosts or creatures roaming in the jungle, killing innocent villagers and soldiers on both sides. Reports had ceased shortly after the end of the war.

The slow progress of Project Powerpuff meant that it was too late when America backed out of the war. The final version of Chemical X had only been synthesized much later on, with only a small sample in the micro-grams produced in 1981. However, Project Powerpuff was allowed to continue due to the projection that the US government will likely become involved in yet more wars.

Human trials continued with early versions of the Chemicals, B through to W, with more stringent measures. With each incarnation of the Chemical, trials would begin first with plant trials, then animal trials, in order of similarity to Homo Sapient-Sapients, then to Human trials. Despite these measures, casualties continued to mount, as well as escapees. These failures were factors to the necessity of the Powerpuff Girls Media Complex (refer to File 33: The Powerpuff Girls Media Complex).

In 1985, trials involving Chemical X proves to be far more promising, right from the start. Plants infused with Chemical X would grow beyond maximum height and biological performance, and even some adaptations both in genotype and phenotype. Some had even gained motility and behavioral adaptations. Animal trials yielded the same positive results, resulting in no deaths in the fauna, and even the creation of Jojo, a Chimpanzee who gained limited sapience and is able to function as a lab assistant. Although a breach of protocols, 'Jojo' was not terminated on the insistence of agent Utonium (code-name in force). More details are available in their files.

Chemical X trials continued into 1987, when Human trials began, and this was where another hurdle presented itself. Despite earlier successes with flora and fauna, infusion of Chemical X into Humans of both sexes and ages from 13 - 71 resulted in a huge variation of results across the board, from no visible effects to varying degrees of mutations and even death.

It was not until a lab incident that a solution was found. Jojo, the aforementioned home-grown sapient lab Chimpanzee, was said to have 'freaked out' in an episode previously unobserved. Even agent Utonium, his designated handler, could not understand if he was warning him or goading him on. Previously, Utonium, the main researcher attached to Project Powerpuff at the time, was exploring the possibility of using other chemicals as stabilizing agents to Chemical X. Agent Utonium had been working on a cocktail consisting of Chemicals Sugar, Spice and Everything-Nice (code-named) and was unfinished, intending to add other stabilizing chemicals when Jojo accidentally knocked over a vial of Chemical X into the chemical cocktail.

With the half-prepared Chemical X cocktail ruined, Agent Utonium attempted to salvage the experiment by running some tests on it. Surprisingly, Chemical X appeared stable after its addition to the cocktail. From there, Project Powerpuff was launched to new heights, going into practical trials, with development shifting into internal affairs rather than foreign policy, due to concerns of crime and terrorism.

For more information on the latest batch of subjects for Project Powerpuff, refer to their files.

Chapter Text

Personnel File S0064

DOC: 1 JAN 1980

Updated: 1 JAN 2017

Personal Records

Name: Thomas Lewis Upton

DOB: 22 APR 1946

Age: 71 (As of 2017)

Sex: Male

Personal History:

- Born on 22 APR 1946 to typist mother Mary Upton and a USMC father Caleb Upton.

- In 8 JUL 1948, Thomas gains a brother, Eugene Upton.

- Disagreements reported to be common within family, but not to the point of rendering the family completely dysfunctional. Thomas Lewis Upton favours a more progressive and pacifistic stance while the parents are more traditionalist and military (they are a three-generational military family). This extends to all aspects of life, be it religion, politics or science.

- The father is reported to be very unhappy with Thomas Lewis Upton's decision to pursue the sciences, preferring him to continue the family tradition of joining the armed forces.

- Eugene Upton, the brother, continues the family tradition instead.

- Thomas maintains very little contact with his family since enrolling in MIT, and it is only in his later years as a professor that there was some semblance of communication between him and his family.

[FILE CORRUPTED MISSING STRINGS]

Personality

Thomas Lewis Upton, unlike the rest of his family, is introverted and shy even despite his educators 'breaking him out of his shell'. However, he is kind, a people person and 'moral' (which can be a liability) especially when he is in his element in the sciences. He is passionate about his field, and could be riled up if he felt his work or colleagues/peers are threatened.

History of Education:

- (1968, age 22) Thomas Lewis Upton graduated from MIT with a triple degree in Electronic Engineering, Biochemistry and Physics, with first class honours and distinction. He was second in his cohort and valedictorian.

- (1970, age 24) Thomas Lewis Upton attains his master's degree in Theoretical Physics at Oxford University, where he worked on theories on dimensions beyond the third and non-euclidean physics.

- (1975, age 29) Thomas Lewis Upton becomes professor of Theoretical Physics, and had remained prolific in his multi-disciplinary pursuits, attaining a master's degree in Biochemistry and Biology. He studied medicine part-time, but at this age, has yet to attain a doctor's license.

- (1978, age 32) Thomas Lewis Upton receives his doctor's license, as well as credit for numerous breakthroughs in his field of Theoretical Physics.

- (1979, age 33) Thomas Lewis Upton gains a degree in Mechanical Engineering and would have achieved a Master's Degree in it had it not been for the Organization's recruitment policy targeting him.

Organization Code-Name: Utonium

Rank: Head of Research

Clearance: Level 11

Organization Record:

- 1980: Recruited by Organization in expansion of science department as Head of Research. His performance is exemplary on induction, and he is well-liked by his peers and subordinates for his kindness, conflict management, mentorship and for getting his hands dirty in the research, surpassing his predecessor.

- 1981: He successfully synthesized a tiny amount of what will be known as Chemical X in small amounts, far ahead of schedule when earlier versions were still undergoing trials.

-1981: Let it be recorded that Thomas Lewis Upton has objected against some of the human trial experiments, on grounds of morality. Demotion or termination considered but ultimately not acted upon on the behest of then Director.

- 1981: He has since reformed the Organization's human trial process multiple times to minimize risk to subjects of the experiments, including the suspension of subject termination protocols. Casualties have decreased, but escapees have increased under his watch. He was reprimanded for his actions.

- 1984: Professor Utonium, as he was known in the Organization, has devised a method of manufacturing Chemical X in large quantities.

- 1985: He spearheads the Chemical X plant and animal trials. He resists the Organization's attempt at reversing his humanitarian reforms, even arguing against the termination of a potentially dangerous animal test subject, Jojo, who is a Chimpanzee that had gained limited sapience and under his watch, gains membership into his laboratory staff as assistant. The Directorate tolerates this due to his value and abilities.

- 1987: His work in Project Powerpuff continues, but his results in the human trials are limited. Demotion or termination considered but not acted upon on the behest of then Director.

-1987: Due to a lab accident, a surprising breakthrough in Project Powerpuff was made under his watch. While he was reprimanded for allowing his Chimpanzee assistant to run amok in his lab, his work is allowed to continue as it will ultimately prove beneficial to the Organization.

- 1988: Professor Utonium creates the first batch of successful subjects under Project Powerpuff, subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49, though many parameters are not met and they are deemed to be too cost-ineffective, and quite frankly, not worth the effort, even as prototypes. Termination of subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 considered. Professor Utonium vigorous and passionately protested against termination, and the Director agrees.

[FILE CORRUPTED MISSING STRINGS]

Chapter Text

File 9: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Genesis

DOC: 22 NOV 1988

Updated: 28 NOV 1988

Background: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 are made possible by a series of accidents (some details are available in File 1: Project Powerpuff). To reiterate, an unfinished cocktail of stabilizing chemicals had been accidentally mixed with Chemical X due to Jojo, Agent Utonium's sapient Chimpanzee assistant. The result proved to be surprisingly stable, and the compound was brought to Testing.

Preliminary testing involved flora, fauna and human stem cells at first, before moving on to the standard process. It is here when the incident that produced Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 happened.

The Incident: The incident involved the human stem cells samples that had been used to test for reaction with the Chemical X cocktail. The human stem cells were derived from 5-year-old patients from the [STRING MISSING] Women & Children's Hospital. The human stem cells were labeled 5YG-1847 through to 5YG-1849 and selected due to the patients' youth, health (the kindergarteners were there merely for a prophylactic check-up) and other factors. When the cells were immersed in the Chemical X cocktail in a sterile chamber, the result was through the roof.

There was a burst of activity under the microscope when examined, and the cells multiplied beyond biological and even physical limitations. According Professor Utonium (code-name in force), the cells multiplied in an alarming rate, with each binary fission process completed within 1 minutes and 5 seconds.

There was another disturbing discovery. The nutrient solution that the stem cells were immersed in could not have supported the cell divisions taking place, and were just enough to keep the human stem cells from dying during the testing process. At the time, even Professor Utonium struggled to find an explanation for the phenomenon.

Within an hour, the result of this uncontrolled, even cancerous cell division became visible to the naked eye. In a panic, one of Utonium's assistants called security to implement scorched earth policy, but Professor Utonium nullified the order and got security to stand down. He advocated patience.

Below is a partial note of the human stem cell colony's progress-

Time 1831, T-0: Taken to be the moment Professor Utonium noticed that samples 5YG-1847 to 5YG-1849 became visible.

Time 1959, T-1.5: Samples 5YG-1847 to 5YG-1849 formed what appeared to be a Week 6 embryonic fetus.

Time 2025, T-2: Embryonic fetus doubled in size, becoming the equivalent of Week 8 fetuses. At this point, Professor Utonium ordered that Gynocological equipment be brought into the lab. Due to the speed of the development, security (with an accompanying nurse) was ordered to fly to the nearest hospital by helicopter to directly purchase the required equipment second-hand from the officials there. (due to the irregularity and possibly illegal nature of the transaction, the funds spent on the Gynocological equipment was several times greater than the market price of first-hand equivalents)

Time 2100, T-2.5: Week 10 equivalent fetuses. The rapidly growing samples 5YG-1847 to 5YG-1849 were transferred to the medical wing where Professor Utonium and staff awaited the required equipment. It is unknown how the fetuses could survive outside a womb, but improvised scans of the fetuses by Utonium show them to be in a healthy state.

Time 2130, T-3: Week 12 equivalent fetuses. The security copter bearing the Gynocological equipment for samples 5YG-1847 to 5YG-1849 returned (it is worth noting that the security staff responsible for this is commendable for expediting this). The fetuses were incubated. The fetuses had began moving. A nurse was reported to have fainted whilst witnessing this - her hospitalization was expedited by their current location.

Time 2200, T-4: The samples developed into Week 16 fetuses.

Time 2222, T-4.5: Growth appeared to have accelerated. Week 20.

Time 2259, T-5: Week 24

Time 2330, T-5.5: Week 28.

Time 2358, T-6: Week 36.

Time 0030, T-6.5: Week 40. The former samples 5YG-1847 to 5YG-1849 became fully-formed babies, and were transferred to maternity cradles. They started crying soon after as observation notes were made. Sample 5YG-1847 shall henceforth be known as Subject B-47, 5YG-1848 as Subject B-48 and 5YG-1849 as Subject B-49. Subject B-47 was observed to possess reddish-brown hair, Subject B-48 was observed to possess black hair while Subject B-49 was observed to possess light blonde hair (Note: It was later realised that the subjects took after the children from which they were taken from). Professor Utonium made a call for volunteers to breastfeed Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49. Two volunteers, nurses, reluctantly stepped up. He had to order the next closest woman to volunteer when the response proved insufficient.

Time 0100, T-7: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 ceased feeding and seemed to have fallen asleep. Volunteers who fed them reported that they seemed to be growing heavier.

Time 0127, T-7.5: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 were quantitatively established to indeed be growing, gaining half an inch and pounds every few minutes. They were returned to the cradles and hooked up to machines for monitoring their life signs. Volunteers observed to be very relieved to be relieved of their emergency maternal duties.

Time 0259, T-8: Rapid growth continued, such that months of development were breezed by within minutes.

Time 0330, T-8.5: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 equivalent of 1-year-olds.

Time 0400, T-9: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 equivalent of 2-year-olds. They were transferred to hospital beds in the medical wing.

Time 0430, T-9.5: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 equivalent of 3-year-olds. Professor Utonium sanctions further observations to be made of them. Their eyes were examined for reactions, and they were normal. However, what was not normal were the eye colours (which were established to be different from the sources of the subjects, and were outside the phenotype limits of human gene expression). B-47 appeared to have bright pink eyes - albinism was ruled out as other symptoms of it were absent. B-48 appeared to have bright green eyes and B-49 appeared to have baby blue eyes. They could not be explained at the time.

Time 0500, T-10: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 equivalent of 4-year-olds.

Time 0524, T-10.5: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 equivalent of 5-year olds. Subjects stopped breathing soon afterwards. Heart rates had also flatlined. An odd observation was made: they seemed to have done this simultaneously. Emergency crew was scrambled to revive them, and Professor Utonium joined in the effort, having clearance in medicine. However, Defibrillation and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation appeared to be ineffective, and the equipment were reported to malfunction when this was tried multiple times (later reports point out that the defibrillators were damaged by the Subjects' bodies somehow)

Time 0534, T-10.6: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 pronounced medically dead after 10 minutes elapsed. Professor Utonium had tried beyond brain death to revive them to no avail. Professor Utonium appeared to be visibly distressed by the sight. However, after 12 minutes elapsed, pulse and breathing returned. Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 had apparently returned to life, but were, however, still unconscious. They were placed in a shared ICU.

Time 0600, T-11: Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 appeared stable and had entered REM sleep. Professor Utonium observed to be staying in ICU with them. He had to be ordered repeatedly to leave them and attend an emergency meeting precipitated by these recent developments.

A/N: (19 JUL 2018) Cheek cells replaced with stem cells. Red eyes amended to pink eyes. Binary fission process made faster.

Chapter Text

Emergency Meeting 11221987A Transcript

DOC: 22 NOV 1987

The following has been reconstructed from video and audio recordings.

START TRANSCRIPT

(The Location: Main Conference Room, Organization HQ.)

(Attending: All departmental heads along with their deputies and relevant personnel.)

(Time: 0621. The Main Conference Room was packed. All department heads were seated at the centre, around an oval conference table with the seal of the Organization in the middle. Organization Director [MISSING STRING] was at its head. Chief of Security [MISSING STRING] was on his right. Liaison Head [MISSING STRING] was on his left. Chief of Logistics [MISSING STRING] was further to the left. Medical Wing Director [MISSING STRING] was further to the right. The only person missing was the Head of Research, Utonium (code-name in force)

(More department personnel were seated around the oval table, talking, taking notes, looking nervous, looking excited, looking intimidated. The main entrance was flanked by security personnel, at the time looking little more like security guards, with batons and pistols on their belt.)

Organization Director: Where the hell is Upton?

Chief of Security: Let me check. (he grabbed the phone on the table, dialed an extension number and spoke) This is the Chief. Where's the Head of Research? I see. Uh-huh. Well, don't just stand there! Then go get him again! (hangs up the phone)

Organization Director: Well?

Chief of Security: He's still with Subjects B-47, 48 and 49. Got my man to get him. Upton's still with those freaks. I don't know what he sees in them, though I must say, I would have been a happy father if my children took just half a day to crawl out of my wife's womb.

Medical Wing Director: It was truly remarkable, that. What could have possibly allowed for such accelerated development! And outside a womb!

Organization DIrector: People, this is unprecedented. Project Powerpuff had been in the making for a long time, and this could be where it pays off.

Chief of Logistics: Heh. I doubt it, unless you think a trio of 5-year-old sleeping beauties are what you think the US needs to lower its crime index.

Organization Director: That is a concern, but we will wait for an official report from Upton.

(Minutes of idle chit-chat)

(Utonium enters the room, looking haggard and rather disturbed, but in a strange way.)

Organization Director: There you are! Sit down! What took you?

Head of Research Utonium: Sorry. I was just- I've been… Busy. It's been a rough day. I mean, not just for me. Not just for my team, or the medical wing.

Organization Director: I understand. You should have tomorrow, or rather, today off. Get yourself into bed or something. But for now-

Head of Research Utonium: Look, I don't need a day off. I think- I think I should stay with the girls- I mean, the urm… The subjects.

(pause in response)

Organization Director: We'll talk about that later. For now, I need a report. What's the condition of B-47 through to 49?

Head of Research Utonium: They're stable, and by that, I mean they are no longer aging rapidly, but they're healthy. They're asleep, based on my readings on the-

Chief of Security: Spare me the details, son. What's their threat level? Are four of my men enough?

Head of Research Utonium: Technically, it's three men and a woman, but they're soundly asleep, and theoretically, since they'd spent a lot of energy just growing for the past 11 hours, and they are physically and approximately 5-year-olds, I believe they should pose no threat.

Chief of Security: Believe? Believe! Believe ain't good enough, boy. You're a scientist, you should know that.

Head of Research Utonium: I… I… I.. Urm. They-

Organization Director: Look, professor. I like you. You've been on the forefront of the Organization's achievements for the past 8 years. Your contribution to Project Powerpuff is one-of-a-kind. Even your contributions to the other projects on the side has increased our fledgling agency's worth ten-fold. But ever since those… Things had started growing out of those petri dishes, you've been acting strangely. You're not yourself.

Medical Wing Director: Perhaps he's in shock? Can you tell me your symptoms, Upton? One of my nurses fainted just by looking at the subjects maturing from zygote to babies. It can be quite… Graphic for amateurs, I guess.

Head of Research Utonium: No, it's not that.

Chief of Logistics: Lots of emotions running in your voice, prof.

Head of Research Utonium: I'm fine. Just reminded me of my late wife and baby girl. That's… All.

Organization Director: My condolences again, Upton. But please. Professionalism! We're in the middle of a breakthrough! Can't believe your monkey's-

Head of Research Utonium: Chimpanzee. Pan Troglodyte-

Organization Director: Whatever! Can't believe your Chimpanzee was a God send. We have to embrace this chance now! Have you tested B-47 to 49 on their capabilities yet? Are they what we've been looking for? Are they our ticket back to Foreign Policy?

Head of Research Utonium: I haven't test their capabilities nor executed any of the standard stress tests yet.

Organization Director: That's understandable, given the time frame. When will the results be ready?

Head of Research Utonium: I haven't ordered any tests scheduled.

Organization DIrector: You what!? Why?

Head of Research Utonium: The girls are asleep, and after such a mess! They're 5-year-old, and they were literally born just yesterday!

Chief of Logistics: Urm… I'm no rocket scientists, but can't we just wake them up?

Chief of Security: That could be dangerous. I think four of my men just aren't enough. Remember what happened the last time? In fact, we need to expand MY department. A few dozen men is enough for a mall, but not an agency as important as ours!

Organization Director: Wake em' up, Upton. Get those tests done on those things!

Head of Research Utonium: Look! It doesn't matter how they're born, where they're born! They're little girls! With or without enhancements!

Organization DIrector: Haven't you learnt your lesson yet? Do you want your retirement package that soon?

Head of Research Utonium: You said it yourself, that this is unprecedented, that they're a chance, a God send. So treat those girls like the miracle they are! If I have to speak your language, then fine: We need to treat this situation as delicately as possible. They might be all we'll ever have! It's a possibility that we might never get something like this again! They're still sleeping, and there's our chance.

Chief of Security: To set up a parameter and kill zones in case they escape and destroy our already terrible reputation with the government again?

Head of Research Utonium: No! Okay, they're just born yesterday right? We don't know if they even possess the intellect to even participate in most of the tests. We're in unfamiliar territory here. Within hours, the established fundamentals in biology and physics- and chemistry had just been put into question. Do they wake up as 5-year-olds with the mind of 5-year-olds? Or 5-day-olds? I simply don't know. (appears enthusiastic) And I can't wait to find out!

Organization DIrector: Fine, you have my ear, Upton. What do you have in mind?

Head of Research Utonium: We move on to the next phase.

Organization Director: There is no 'next phase'.

Head of Research Utonium: So we expand our SOP! You said it yourself, this is unprecedented! I can't wait to see their eyes, those beautiful eyes open! (appears enthusiastic)

Organization Director: And let me guess, you're writing our new SOP?

Head of Research Utonium: I've always advocated the right thing to do. It's hard, I know, for all of us. But this time, it's even more important! And this time, it's going to work out perfectly, I just know it.

Chief of Security: That's what you always say. Tell that to my men, to all those pictures of the dearly departed in the barracks, Frankenstein.

Head of Research Utonium: I have a good feeling about this one. All we need is a house straight out of the American Dream, a stable, safe environment. If you want results, I can get them for you, but I'm not putting their lives in danger just to cut corners and do it hard and fast.

Organization Director: And who's going to take care of their every need? You? We're not running a childcare service here! If it's just three ordinary children, fine. You've got the Dinosaur Room at our HQ. But we're talking about children with enhanced abilities, likely!

Head of Research Utonium: I'll do it. They're born under my watch. They're my responsibility. (slips back into upset state) I can't just abandon them like that. I can't just abandon them. I can't just abandon her.

Organization Director: Fine. You've always had your way, Upton. Just don't make me regret this one. Logistics?

Chief of Logistics: We can get it done within a day, no, give us 12 hours. We'll get the house, the furniture, the car, anything.

Organization Director: Security?

Chief of Security: My pleasure, boss. I can deploy security en-masse, form a parameter. But, boss - expand my department or our facilities will be left largely defenseless.

Organization Director: You got it.

Chief of Security: Finally!

Head of Research Utonium: And make sure they're instructed to protect the girls, too!

Chief of Security: Fine, fine. Of course.

Organization Director: Liaisons?

Liaisons Head: Yes sir. I'll put the paperwork in order. Which city would it be?

Organization Director: That would be my decision. Let's make it happen, people.

END TRANSCRIPT

Chapter Text

The following is constructed out of logs, journals, video and audio records, newspaper and magazine articles, first and second hand accounts and interviews.

Chapter 0: White

The City of Townsville

23 NOV 1988, 0613

In the suburbs just outside the urban centre of the great and historic city of Townsville, there was the hustle and bustle of activity where there usually was peace and quiet. A convoy of trucks had moved in, stopping just outside of a house that stood out. It was a house inspired by futurist or post-modern architectural sense. An estate agent ran up to the 'For Sale' sign on its lawn and pulled it out.

Then the trucks opened the mouths on their back, and disgorged furnitures, and boxes full of little trinkets, and crates full of equipment. Men upon men worked like ants, throwing themselves into the house with belongings in tow, filling the house at a pace unmatched by the local moving companies and leaving just as quickly. They were far too disciplined and precise to be just any other movers.

Then the trucks made a U-turn and left just as fast as they had come. Residents of the surrounding house, not all of them awake, and not all of them concerned, could only stare with tired eyes and make dull-edged observations. Only the estate agent remained.

Just as soon as the moving trucks, all of which were unlabeled, left, a bigger, much larger fourteen-wheeler thundered towards the house and stopped just outside. A door on the cab opened, and out stepped a man in neat lab-wear, and just as neat haircut, if a little angular and square. He straightened himself. It had been a rough ride, and he hadn't slept ever since the evening of 21 NOV 1988, ever since IT happened.

Even after B-47, B-48 and B-49 were no longer in danger of a premature cessation of life, he had been beside them all this time, making the necessary preparations, preparing them for the move.

They were still asleep. 'Growing up physically into 5-year-olds in the span of 11 hours must have really been taxing, really taxing', the professor thought. In fact, they were so out of it that they could be moved in self-contained boxes which doubled as tiny mobile medical rooms, and they were still asleep. Utonium (code-name in force) was actually worried that they might actually be born into a coma, but he knew that he could only wait and see. His readings were inconclusive.

The three boxes containing the first 'successful' subjects of Project Powerpuff were disgorged from the back of the 14-wheeler just like how the furnitures were, and they were wheeled into the house from the garage, by people in lab coats. They were Professor Utonium's staff.

Professor Utonium himself came up to the house, breathing in the fresh smell of the lawn and the morning dew still forming. He stared at the house, and it seemed perfect. It looked almost like a space station to him, with each room like a module. The living room was the centre, the garage to his right and the kitchen/dining room to the left. The second floor consisted of sleeping quarters, and the biggest will be given to the subjects, who Utonium referred to as the Girls, even as everyone else just called them subjects, or things, or freaks. There were spare rooms that even the Chief of Logistics did not know what to do with, but Utonium promised himself that he will figure it out next time.

The basement was incredibly huge for the house. The last owner of the house, who didn't live there long, had been a doomsday prepper, and as such, he had expanded the basement to the boundaries of the property. It was perfect for the laboratory.

"Sign here," the estate agent, a suave man in a business suit, pushed a clipboard full of papers at the Professor. Utonium did just that, half distracted by the endless possibilities of this 'next phase' of Project Powerpuff that his signature had ended up misshapen. But it wasn't science he was thinking of, not this time.

As the girls were carried up to the second floor, the professor ran into the house and joined the people, his people, who were bringing it up.

"Careful now, careful. Don't drop them- Very delicate-" he would nag. His staff didn't mind. They knew what he was thinking, and feeling. Most of them had worked with him for years.

B-47, B-48 and B-49 were delivered to what would be their room, a giant bedroom with its own bathroom, painted all white with three cots pre-made with white bedsheets and white pillows and white pillowcases, filled with white tables and bookshelves and shelves in general. Professor Utonium entered it for the first time, and thought that it looked more like a lab than a room for girls. The Chief of Logistics hadn't thought this through, but then again, the cold man of hard numbers would have thought he did - the Chief of Logistics, like all the other heads, had thought of the Girls as little more than objects, objects that are of high rarity and value at most. In their words, they were things. Freaks. Working with them was going to be a difficult endeavour from now on, the Professor just knew it. With how things had changed and with how high the stakes were raised, it could only get much harder.

The Little-ICUs were brought into the room. The professor's science staff tapped on the keypads and opened them. The ventilation system inside shut down, having done their work. They were about to carry them out when the professor stopped them.

"May I do the honours?" he was almost pleading with them with eyes staring enthusiastically at them, like never before.

"Yeah, sure." "You're welcome." "Go ahead-" "All yours, prof." The staff agreed, cacophonous.

Professor Utonium reached into the Little-ICU of B-47 and pulled out a red-headed little girl in white hospital gown, who had been sleeping all on her side, but straight and headstrong. He cradled her in his arms and walked over to the centre cot, depositing her there, and pulling up the blanket over her.

He then went over to the next Little-ICU. B-48. Reaching in, he pulled out a black-haired little girl in white hospital gown, who had been sleeping on her back, with arms instinctively crossed, but otherwise peaceful. He brought her over to the cot on the left of B-47, and laid her there, pulling the blanket over her. She stirred, digging herself in. It was an encouraging side. 'This one must be the active one,' the Professor thought.

Then he went over to the last Little-ICU. B-49. Reaching in, he pulled out a blonde little girl in white hospital gown, who slept with her hands beneath her head, seemingly prepackaged with a smile. He took her over to the last remaining cot, and tucked her in there. Professor Utonium smiled at the sight.

Lastly, he hooked them up to ECGs and other machines, to monitor their life signs. Despite them being stable for the past 12 hours or so, he was still deathly worried that they might slip back into oblivion again.

"It's been great working with you, prof," one of the staff said.

"We'll really miss you," another said.

"I'll try to visit!" yet another promised.

There was no good without sacrifice. In volunteering to be the caretaker of B-47, B-48 and B-49, Professor Utonium had to relinquish his role as Head of Research, or Science Director. He was given the role of 'Field Researcher' instead, but he knew that the Organization Director was just being kind. But Utonium didn't care. He was going to make it right again, pay back for his mistakes. He had to make his late wife and daughter matter, save lives and make them better, and this would continue with B-47, B-48 and B-49.

Then before he knew it, they were gone; his former subordinates (though he prefer to call them friends or colleagues). And he was left all alone with the three girls.

Sitting down on a WHITE little kiddy stool with nothing but the steady beeps of the girls' strong hearts, he began to perspirate cold sweats, his smile replaced with trembling lips.

He had no idea what was going to happen next, nor how he could really take care of three potentially 'enhanced' 5-year-olds when he had only experience being a father to one ordinary girl… And he thought that he was a terrible father at that, after what had happened.

"Please make this work," he said to the WHITE room, to the sleeping girls, almost praying.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: Blue-Som

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

23 NOV 1988, 1048

Voices. Voices swirling in the dark. Voices telling him that everything was going to fall apart, that the girls would come out of this suffering, whether it was falling in a void of darkness forever in catatonia, or suffering from one horrific malady or another from being grown from chemical X. Then he saw his wife and daughter, both with horrified looks, their skin withering into dust, then the muscles and bones underneath.

Professor Utonium opened his eyes to discover that he had been sitting on the white carpeted floor of the girls' room, half his body, his head on the table. His entire body ached. He knew he had fallen asleep, for the last thing he recalled was him watching over the girls, getting lulled into unconsciousness from sheer exhaustion by the steady beep of their heartbeat monitors.

He could barely see. His vision was a blur. He tried blinking it away, thinking that he had seen something. But when his vision cleared, he realised that he wasn't wrong. B-47 was sitting up, watching with ever-curious pink eyes, her youthful lips curling into a smile.

'What?' was all Utonium could think when he saw her. Rising up from the table, he straightened himself, hearing multiple cracks rippling throughout his body. Stroking his chin, he realised that he hadn't shaved for the past three days. Taking steps towards B-47, the red-head, looking at her in wonder, he still could not believe his eyes. 'Am I still dreaming?'

"Are you real?" he found himself asking B-47. "Is that really you? Wait, do you even understand what I'm saying?"

All B-47 let out was laughter. Then, looking around him, Professor Utonium realised that the others, B-48, the black-haired girl and B-49, the blonde, were both awake and laughing with her.

"Do you understand me?" Professor Utonium tried again. Then other concerns began plaguing him, and they were of the plague-natured. He would have to begin taking readings again, to check on the girls' health. He placed a hand on B-47's forehead to check her temperature. It was the least he could do. It was normal. "B-47?"

This time, all the pink-eyed girl did was to take his arm and hug it, mute-like. Her own arms were strong, that he could say that shrugging them away would be difficult.

"Wait, I don't think I can keep calling you B-47 forever. It wouldn't be a nice name, would it?" the Professor said to the girl. "How about if I call you…" he racked his brains for names. It had been forever since he was creating a list of names for his new born baby girl - the one he lost. "Blossom! For opening up to me so quickly!"

The nightmares he had was long forgotten, and so were the aches running through his body. B-47, or Blossom, would not let go of his arm, her face a forever-smile, so he hugged her and carried her to B-49's white bed instead. It was a long, long time since he felt like a million dollars. Even his successes in the sciences did not give him that much joy, not since the accident.

Coming up to B-49, the blonde-haired girl with baby-blue eyes (those eyes!), he set Blossom down. B-49 gave out a giggle. She had been standing on her bed, and she looked like she couldn't wait for her turn with Utonium. The professor put his hand on 49's shoulder. It felt just right. No fever. He looked at her vital signs. No trouble. B-49 put a hand on her back and sucked on her thumb, obviously naturally shy. "Now aren't you bubbly, B-49? That's it! Bubbles! That's your name, Bubbles! Do you like it?"

Bubbles gave out another giggle and hugged the Professor. Blossom and Bubbles did not seem to mind the professor's smell. He was basically made up of sweat and dirt and the faint smell of lab alcohol, but the girls had never smelled enough to judge it as funky.

Bubbles would not let go, so Professor Utonium just carried the both of them to B-48's bed, who was positively jumping with joy at getting noticed, before falling on her bum. Apparently, words weren't the only things beyond them for the time being. Even standing or walking were things that they need to learn. It was awkward that they looked like 5-year-olds, but the Professor was too happy to care.

"And as for you… How about… Urm… Oh I don't know… Buttercup? Because it also starts with a B?" the Professor struggled. The tone did not go unnoticed, and B-48 stopped smiling, folded her arms and frowned a little. Sensing her unhappiness, the Professor combed his fingers through Buttercup's black hair, caressing her scalp. Being simple at the time, the green-eyed girl liked it and forgave the professor, hugging him by the neck.

"Ooof!" the professor verbalised as he felt the girls weighing down on him, as all three of them were hugging him. "This is good news indeed! I should probably inform the Organization! But first, let's get the three of you out of those drab hospital gowns."

The hospital gowns did not do the girls any justice. They were white, with openings at the back rather than the front. The girls had been fitted with diapers, which reminded the professor of the difficult tasks ahead. Seeing that they could not speak, walk or even stand properly, it was very much likely that they would need potty training as well.

Needless to say, he was very rusty in that area of child development.

Leaving the girls on the floor and pulling open a drawer of the white wardrobe, Professor Utonium was actually surprised to see colour, though the colours were of the usual pastel type, very light and soft looking, just like the rest of the house. But they simple dresses, probably bought because they were economical. 'I oughta have a word with the Chief of Logistics later!' the professor thought angrily as he pulled three dresses out.

Candidly, he held the dresses out to Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, wondering what their reaction would be. He thought there would be more giggles, or laughter, but all he was met with was a blank stare from the three of them. "You three probably don't even know what they are, do you? Lucky you."

Starting with Blossom, the professor pulled off the hospital gowns and slipped the dresses on. Blossom was put in a biege dress with a knot on the back, Bubbles had a light green short-skirted monstrosity while Buttercup was fitted in a sky-blue leotard with a frilled short skirt. As if it was instinct, Buttercup frowned and crossed her arms. They looked incredibly unfashionable, and ill-fitting. "Yeah, we'll work on that."

The rest of the day was spent on tests and education. It might sound unfun, but the professor had tried to make it as entertaining to the girls as possible- though it helped that Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were literally born yesterday. They were impressionable and simple. At this, the professor was surprised, but it fed into this working theory of his that the girls' mind were matured just as much as their body, just that they were empty and in need of filling.

Within a few hours, the professor had established that all the girls had no trouble with their five senses, hand-eye coordination and limbs. They were healthy, perfect little girls. But it was only a cursory examination.

The professor had no choice. The potty training started immediately, and thankfully, the Chief of Logistics had anticipated this, much to the scientist's surprise. The adjoining toilet to the girl's room had a little miniature porcelain throne, which was entirely operable and connected to the sewage.

So the diapers were ditched, and much time was spent on a rotating schedule on the potty, between play time with their adoptive father. The result: a horrific mess on the floor that could be smelled from the corridor outside. The girls knew the smell to be bad, and it motivated them further to get it right.

In less musky matters, the professor showed them the stand and the walk - and allowed the girls to imitate him. They would take turns standing on top of the professor's feet as he took them through the motions. Rome wasn't built in a day, but the professor couldn't help but to notice that they were learning far faster than what an infant could manage. Buttercup was the quickest learner, making a few metres before falling over, followed by Blossom, and although Bubbles could only manage the stand, it was progress fast enough, considering that babies who were just born would take months before they could even get upright.

Even as Professor Utonium laughed and played with his bundles of joy, he was making theories in his head. 'Is their learning enhanced, or are they just advantaged by their 5-year-old mind and body? Or could it be a combination of both?'

But there was a limit to how much he could download into their freshly-minted minds. Having had a hand in his late biological daughter's education, he knew that he had to go slow and not burden them, even if they had five years of learning to catch up with. Solid food, for example, was left literally off the table, and the professor settled on powdered milk formula for the day.

Yet, by the time the sun rolled downhill and out, and the moon rose to take its place, the professor had already proceeded to language.

"Blooo-ssooom," Professor Utonium enunciated as he was pointing at Blossom. He and the three girls were seated around the white kiddy table. "Blossom."

"Blue-som!" Blossom tried pronouncing her name for the fifth time, throwing her hands up in excitement. She had been coming very close to it for the past hour. The professor had let the girl take turns trying to learn their name. "Blue-som!" she screamed in joy again while pointing at herself.

By now, Utonium knew that Blossom was the smartest out of all of them, and unfortunately, that meant that there was a third-placer. Bubbles hadn't been able to speak at all the entire day, and whatever had come out of her mouth resembled nothing on the English dictionary, nothing remotely close to her name, only garbles and saliva literally bubbling out of the corner of her lips. It had her caretaker worried.

"Veeeeery good, Blossom," Professor Utonium encouraged, then picked up a clipboard and scribbled a few notes in. Even if it was something as mundane as child-raising, he couldn't help but to keep it official. The Organization might take a dim view of the girls and their first baby steps, but knowing them, they would want a progress report as soon as possible. "Now, do you remember…" he pointed at himself. "Daddy?"

"Dadda!" Blossom tried her best, and came very close again, leaving Buttercup in the dust, whose last attempt couldn't even hit a syllable right. The green-eyed girl folded her arms and stared angrily at her reddish-haired sister.

The professor noticed.

"Now, now, Buttercup… It's your turn anyway," he said. "Can you say… But-ter-cup?" The instant the professor laid eyes on her, she turned her frown into a smile.

"Bueur-up!" Buttercup spattered her words.

"No, no, dear," the Professor corrected her patiently. "It's But… Ter… Cup…"

"Butt…Ta… Cut?" Buttercup tried again, and nearly succeeded, spurred on by competition even before her second day was up.

"Close. Now your turn, Bubbles," he then turned to face Bubbles, the one that worried him. A million questions ran through his mind, all in the hopes of answering one question: 'Is Bubbles going to have difficulties? The kind that parents fear for their children?' "Can you say… Bubbles?"

All Bubbles did was to stare at him.

"Bubbles- Bar… Bles…" the Professor tried patiently again.

Then tears started to well up in her eyes, and all she had in hand for comfort was a weird tetrahydron-sided ball (which was white of course).

"There, there, it's alright," the Professor comforted her. At the same time, he looked at his watch. It was getting late, coming to ten in the night. "My, how time flies!" Scooting over to Bubbles, he gave her a hug, and it calmed her right down.

After tucking the Girls into bed and making sure they were asleep, and by that time it was almost eleven, the professor reluctantly got up to leave. But leaving the girls' white room was like leaving his soul behind. As soon as he was out of it and heading towards his lab, he could feel sheer exhaustion setting in again. And it made sense. He hadn't had any real sleep since 21 NOV 1988, and today, he hadn't even corrected that, and had merely passed out for 4 hours. He hadn't showered or brushed his teeth for two days, or changed into a fresh set of uniform in just as long. He'd eaten little, only whatever he could get out of the fridge in the little time he had while he was preparing the girls' milk powder.

But the girls took precedence. He still had a report to file to the Organization and a few calls to make, the time be damned. At least one of them was going to hear it from him.

Chapter Text

Phone Recording 11231988-2319-TH

DOC: 23 NOV 1988

EXTRACTED: 3 JAN 1989

TRANSCRIPT START

Chief of Logistics: (Yawns) Hello? Whoever's calling, it's a little late, don't you think? Is that you, chief?

Field Researcher Utonium: (Aggressive and seething with anger) It's me, Wiggums.

Chief of Logistics: Upton? What is up with you? I was having an early night, man! The numbers aren't going to crunch themselves, you know.

Field Researcher Utonium: Now you listen to me, 'man'. You've darn screwed up far enough. Is that how you decorate your children's room? That it?

Chief of Logistics: I'm not married, so I don't even have-

Field Researcher Utonium: Yeah, little wonder. You don't even have to be married to have a little common sense, Wiggums! The girls' room looks like a White Room Torture chamber in there! If it weren't for the girls, I would have gone insane myself!

Chief of Logistics: Look, I was just following protocols, man, honest. It's how we furnish most of our HQ, isn't that right?

Field Researcher Utonium: Well, The House isn't the HQ now, is it? Your sense of decoration could have a bad effect on the girls, do you know that?

Chief of Logistics: They're not girls, Utonium. They're… You saw how they just popped into existence out of nowhere, right? I mean, we created them ourselves, so-

Field Researcher Utonium: DO NOT say that to me again, Wiggums. And I created them, not you, not 'we'. So they popped into existence out of nowhere - that doesn't make them any less human. I've seen them awake. They can laugh and they can cry. They can love. They're HUMAN.

Chief of Logistics: Look, man, I'm not gonna debate with you on the philosophizing or whatever it is. What do you want from me?

Field Researcher Utonium: I want an overhaul of the girl's room.

Chief of Logistics: Fine, I'll do it tomorrow-

Field Researcher Utonium: And this time, I'll pick the looks, the furniture.

Chief of Logistics: You're cutting into my jurisdiction, Upton.

Field Researcher Utonium: And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep this quiet, or it's your career on the line.

Chief of Logistics: Fine. I'll send you the catalogue. You want it this way, it's going to be slower.

Field Researcher Utonium: I don't care, as long as the girls get what they deserve.

Chief of Logistics: And Upton?

Field Researcher Utonium: What?

Chief of Logistics: What's gotten into you, man? We used to do lunch together, talking about things like inseparable college pals. Now, you're just…

Field Researcher Utonium: And your selection of clothes for the girls is terrible, Wiggums. What the hell is wrong with you?

Chief of Logistics: I have a budget to follow, man! And like I said, they're not-

Field Researcher Utonium: I want the catalogue for the clothes too. I need additional funding for everything in a local bank account.

Chief of Logistics: Fine. If the chief comes screaming into my office, I'm pointing him to you.

Field Researcher Utonium: Do whatever you want.

Chief of Logistics: And Upton?

Field Researcher Utonium: What?

Chief of Logistics: We're not friends anymore.

(pause)

Chief of Logistics: Look, I-

Field Researcher Utonium: Fine. (Hangs up)

Chief of Logistics: (Hangs up)

TRANSCRIPT END

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Reality

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

24 NOV 1988 0028

After putting the girls to bed, Professor Utonium had very little time to himself. By the time he was done with Organization duties, it was already past midnight. For once, he was glad that he didn't have any side projects to do, no new thesis to write and theories to change or create. Struggling up from his chair, he ambled across his laboratory and up the stairs leading into the living room.

Picking up his pipe, he filled it with a carefully measured amount of tobacco and lit it up. It reminded him of the old days, when the only adversity he faced was his own biological family. But with adversity came camaraderie, and all the good things humanity was capable of. Eugene, his younger brother, had taught him how to use the pipe, surprisingly. His younger brother had developed that old-fashioned habit because of their father. Eugene had thought that it had fitted well with his army officer image, that 'old general' image that he was trying to fill.

Taking a puff, he blew the smoke out, and stood at the wide and tall window of the living room overlooking the street outside. It was getting cold, and the first snowflakes were just beginning to fall. It had a calming, if chilling, effect on him. Winter was coming, just as bad things could happen, but where there was winter, Spring would follow. The seasons would pass, and so would time, whether he liked it or not, just like how the bad and good times would. It was reality, for better or for worse.

Smoking itself was a bad sign, he knew. He hadn't smoked the pipe for months, and he knew exactly why. He felt like he was way over his head, and a little trapped - he had to be honest with himself. But images of the Girls would come flooding back every time he felt that things would fall apart.

'I'm their creator. Their father. Who will take care of them if not me?' it was his go-to statement for making it all a little better. In fact, if it was somebody else from the Organization, the Girls would probably be kept in cages, and trained immediately for what they were created to do: Fight.

When he was done, he snuffed out the tobacco and headed up the stairs. He had to wander around for a bit to find his room, as it was their first night here, and he wasn't even the one who did the renovating and decorating. The moment he reached the master bedroom, he fell into bed and passed out again.

24 NOV 1988 0613

We're not friends anymore

Fine

If the chief comes screaming into my office, I'm pointing him to you.

Fine

They're just things, Upton, THINGS!

Fine

Like your lab monkeys-

Chimpanzee. Pan Troglodyte-

They can be put to sleep anytime-

Fine

Professor Utonium opened his eyes. His body ached, and the only difference was that it ached a little less. He could barely remember his journey from living room to master bedroom, as if he had drowned himself with a keg of beer, only, that the keg of beer was exhaustion. Looking up at the alarm clock, he noticed that it was still just a little past six in the morning. Looking down at himself, he realized that he hadn't showered or changed into a fresh set of uniforms. Again.

Then the girls popped into his mind. "The girls!" he cried and scrambled out of bed quickly. Running out of his room and into the corridor, he was possessed by fear, chased by the disjointed nightmare he was having in his five hours of sleep (if it could even be called that). Coming up to the girls' room, he swiftly opened the door and peeked inside.

It took him time to search the room for them, with every fraction of second a searing pain, but then he saw them - still fast asleep in their respective cots. Blossom and Bubbles had a smile on their face, while Buttercup appeared more… Neutral, but otherwise at peace. Buttercup was snoring soundly, and under that gentle rhythm of snores, Professor Utonium could hear breathing from the others. The medical monitoring machines inside had already been switched off before he put the girls into bed, though he was beginning to wish that they were switched on.

'They're fine. They're fine, Upton. Don't you worry-' he thought to himself. Backing out of the room, he made his way back to his. Then he started hurrying his footsteps. The girls could be awake at any time, and they wouldn't know what they were doing when they do. Images of them screaming and hurting themselves with the Chief of Logistics' weird geometric toys were clear in his head.

But he knew he had to take care of himself at some point. He stank like a week-old fish in a wet market and felt like one too.

Back in his room, he unbuttoned his lab coat and finally removed it. Placing it in a basket, he then proceeded to undo his shirt, only to realize that he had forgotten about the pistol he was wearing. He had a pistol in a paddle holster under his lab coat, hanging on his belt. It was an idea of the Chief of Security. He had forgotten about it all this time.

'Here's a little something, son. Just in case those bug-eyed freaks of yours decided that you're not their daddy anymore,' he remembered the Chief of Security saying. He doubt he'd ever be using it. Unholstering the pistol, he threw it on his bed and just plain forgot about it.

Stripping quickly, he went into the shower and turned on the taps. The heated water streamed from the shower head to him. It felt heavenly. But not as heavenly as his time with the Girls.

The professor did not dawdle in the shower room for long. Within minutes, his fears overtook his need for creature comforts, and he made do with the bare necessities - a quick shower, a fresh set of uniforms and no breakfast - at least not yet. Then it was back to the girls' room

By the time he opened the door, he expected the girls to be bouncing around the room, risking all manners of injury. But his fear had been unfounded - the girls were literally just born yesterday (this time a little more figuratively), and they needed to recover. At least, that was the theory.

He longed to examine the girls in greater detail, but his work was limited to the progress the girls were making. Tissue analysis wouldn't happen until the girls had developed enough cognizance and pain tolerance, otherwise the procedure of extracting blood and other samples would just be a danger to all of them. They would need to understand, and allow the extraction - that meant awareness, ability to communicate and understanding abstract concepts. Professor Utonium estimated that it would be months, at least, before he could try something of that sort. The Organization wouldn't be pleased, but they knew that they had to hang onto his every word and judgement. That was his bargaining chip.

Crossing the room, Professor Utonium sat down on the same kiddy stool once more, and waited. He occupied his time by penning down his thoughts on a clipboard. He had a diary, a habit he had kept since his late childhood years - being different from the rest of his family, and having but a few close friends who couldn't be with him every day, he had resorted to the diary to express himself.

Once more, the sun crept up from the horizon, filling the room with blue, then red, then orange and finally, yellow light. One by one, the girls rose from their beds, instinctively rubbing their eyes, and the moment they noticed him, they smiled, and laughed with joy.

"Dadda! Dadda!" Blossom cried, and the others aped her as able as they could, with varying results - Buttercup almost matching Blossom with Bubbles left far behind.

It was time to put reality out the door for the time being.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Progression, Regression

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

24 NOV 1988. 0823

"Hungy! Hungy!" The girls were screaming at the professor, throwing the word they'd learn from him, at him, imperfect but effective. Well, the girls sans Bubbles. Bubbles was still mostly silent. Professor Utonium thought that this was an opportunity to introduce them to solid food, and he had to hold off on the feeding.

"Hungy! Hungy!" They would shout even as he carried them out of their room, after changing their diapers. The potty training would come again later. They would only stop to gaze at the wider world around them, which they had thought was only the size of their room. Breathing heavily, his body aches acting up, he descended down the steps, afraid that he might lose balance, what with Buttercup swinging on his neck and the others acting like pendulums on his arms. He had to carry them because they hadn't learnt how to walk beyond a few meters - Bubbles couldn't even manage the walk.

Later at the kitchen, he was able to find kiddy chairs, and they were white of course. It reminded Utonium of his conversation yesterday on the phone. He would have done some shopping too, had it not been for the girls' inability to take care of themselves.

Plopping the Girls down in the chairs, he began cooking up something simple. He could still remember the ingredients, and it was easy to do so because the girls seemed to be awed by their surrounding, by The House. But he knew that it wouldn't last for long, especially when they seem to be capable of learning at a rapid pace, like how they grew to be 5-year-olds within 11 hours.

Soon, the chorus of "Hungy! Hungy!" began again. Pushing three bowls of porridge into the oven, he turned it up, and flew back to Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.

"Food's almost ready- Patience-" he panted.

As with the results of yesterday's potty training, their first encounter with solid food was a mess. By the end of it, there was porridge everywhere. Slobbering on the girls' mouth, on the surface of the kiddy chairs, on the table, on Professor Utonium. But at least the chorus of "Hungy! Hungy!" was over.

Professor Utonium introduced them to the concept of bathing soon after - the kids were a mess. Yesterday, he'd washed them during potty training with a quick shower. They seemed to like it. The standard issue rubber ducky was an amazing sensation.

Time flew once more. Professor Utonium would go on to train them in standing and walking, and they were mastering the art increasingly fast. Even Bubbles was taking her first successful steps, and she would jump with joy over it, before falling over on her bum and crying. It served to ease Utonium's worries a little. Surely a child who could learn to walk within two days couldn't be suffering from any developmental problems, right? Buttercup could cross her room on her own, though she was still teetering worryingly on her heels on occasion.

Potty training remained a constant, and so did listening and speaking lessons. The professor could not wait for the day when they would be able to communicate with each other. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were exposed to more words. It helped that there were picture cards in the storeroom for their educational needs. They went through the basics: things that the girls would find at home. Their own bodies, and what the different parts were called. They went through toys, furnitures. They learnt what to actually call the activities they had been doing. While their pronunciation was always off, Professor Utonium knew that he was getting through to them. He'd discreetly tested them on their progress by playing a game of 'name the card', and the girls could remember most of the words they had learn, and connected those words to what they represent. Bubbles, as usual, had great difficulty in this. Bubbles' achievements for the day had remained largely confined to her own name, that whatever little confidence Utonium had gained that she had no issues was shattered.

25 NOV 1988. 0815

Snow had begun to fall. The girls continued to learn. They ate with increasing precision, though Professor Utonium was still doing the feeding, flying food aeroplanes into their mouths again and again. They moved with increasing agility. Buttercup could walk with alarming agility, and run almost just as well. Bubbles remained the third-placer, as she was still walking across the room with great difficulty. Potty accidents became minimal - even with Bubbles. Avoiding the 'icky' smell of human waste was still a great motivational factor.

They learned even more words, and brushed up on their pronunciations for words they had encountered before.

"Blossom! Blossom!" Blossom would shout her name with great confidence. "Blossom happy!" the red-haired girl would then laugh in a victory celebration. Buttercup was not far behind. Bubbles was trying to catch up with them, and had left the claustrophobic feeling that came with only knowing one's name. "Daddy! Daddy!"

26 NOV 1988. 0801

Snow fell in increasing volume. The girls continued to learn. They ate while spilling little. Professor Utonium had graduated them to scrambled eggs and bread for breakfast, and porridge enriched with tiny flakes of chicken for lunch and dinner.

The girls were allowed the first time to venture out of their room on their own power. Bubbles had to be watched very closely. The stairs became their arch-nemesis, to be conquered another day.

"Blossom love daddy! Blossom love daddy!" Blossom would proclaim today. Professor Utonium hugged the three girls upon hearing that.

"Bubbles love!" Bubbles imitated her more articulate sisters.

"Buttercup love!" Buttercup said the same.

"Blossom happy daddy!" Blossom would insist after they let go, and she loved the way it sounded. Rhyme and alliteration was lost on her, but she could instinctively appreciate the effect these literary phenomenons produce.

27 NOV 1988. 0840

It was winter proper. When the professor woke up this day, he could feel the weight of his debt incurred to bring his girls up to speed. He could barely get out of bed, and a paradoxical wave of both chill and heat swept over him the moment he was conscious. The alarm was blaring into his ears, and when he groped for it, he accidentally knocked it to the ground along with his useless pistol, which he had carelessly tossed onto the nightstand a few days before.

But something wasn't quite right. He could feel a lump by his leg. Pushing himself up with difficulty, he tried to make out what it was in the dark; he had to consciously focus his eyes to see.

One of the girls. Of all the girls, it was Bubbles. 'How did she get here?' he thought. He knew Bubbles, had seen her something like 18 hours of his life a day. She was reluctant to move any 'great' distance at all, and a 'great' distance to her was the boundaries of her room.

Seeing her gave him strength. Silently, he crawled out of bed and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Gingerly, he walked towards the girls' room and deposited her in her own cot, careful not to wake the girls.

After that, he returned to his room to get dressed and look over the catalogue that his former-friend, the Chief of Logistics, had sent him. It didn't take long for him to realize that the selection wasn't much better. Wiggums had been working with a company that specialized in minimalistic furniture and interior design that favoured either bachelor pads or the cold, sterile insides of a lab. The clothes catalogue was a little better - dresses of all sorts and colors crowded the pages. Predictably, the clothes that Wiggums did get belonged to the budget section of the catalogue. Before he made any choices, the Professor decided that the girls should take their pick. Tossing the catalogue aside, he dragged himself towards the kitchen.

It was the start of another long day.

28 NOV 1988. 1754

A loud, piercing scream suddenly filled the room as Professor Utonium was teaching Blossom how to draw shapes on a piece of paper. It'd busted his eardrums, nearly giving him a heart attack. He wasn't expecting it; the girl had been nothing but peaceful, passive creatures.

All of that was about to change.

The professor turned to look. Bubbles was lying sprawled on the floor, crying her heart out. Buttercup stood over her, an abstract WHITE toy train in her hand, with a rather mean look on her face. He knew, somewhat, what had happened, but he couldn't be sure - back when he still had his own family, he had only one child to look after, and sibling interaction was something he just wasn't experienced in.

Professor Utonium got up to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Bubbles, what's the matter?"

Needless to say, it took Bubbles a long time before she could even speak - even in normal circumstances, she would have difficulty on the verbal side of things.

"Butt-Ta-Cut mean! Butt-Ta-Cut mean!" Bubbles cried. "The train!"

The professor turned to Buttercup. "Now look at what you did, Buttercup. Apologize to your sister and give it back to her," he said in a genial sort of way, hoping that Buttercup would turn her frown upside-down like before. But it seemed that her mouth was frozen that way.

"Buttercup, there's toys everywhere around you - and you've been hoarding quite a few on your side," the professor tried to reason with her, pointing at all the toys to make sure she understood.

"My train! Train mine!" Buttercup protested, waving the train in her hand in an infantile manner. While the professor thought that her aptitude in speaking was admirable, the message was clear: selfishness, an end which she met with violence and selfishness. "My train!"

"Butt-Ta-Cut mean!" Bubbles repeated, still crying.

The professor found himself frustrated, irritable, more than he wanted to be. The past week hadn't been easy. There was no one he could speak to, to reveal the mental pain that he had been enduring. The line between his life and work was blurred. The girls were a blessing, and yet they reminded him of the bloody past, and how it could just repeat so easily again. He had been working more than a double shift essentially for the past week, sleeping and eating little, much less having any kind of free time to himself. He was a single parent, and he felt the worst of it. He had to face the possibility of Bubbles suffering developmental problems, and now Buttercup was coming up with a little issue of her own.

"Buttercup! Give the train back to Bubbles," he said sternly to the black-haired girl, who responded by shaking her head while crossing her arms. He found himself gritting his teeth. Grabbing the train by force, he yanked it away from Buttercup and deposited it on the ground next to Bubbles roughly.

Buttercup was stunned, and soon, too, did tears welled up in her eyes. And then she started crying in that raspy voice of hers. The professor himself was horrified at what he had done. "Come here," he said as he wrapped himself around her, hugging her. She resisted at first, and she was strong - for a second there, she could have actually thrown the professor off her, but she relented as it felt good. Her cries became sniffles, and soon just straggling tears. She smiled.

"Don't do that again, okay? My Butterbear?" the professor said.

"Yes, daddy," Buttercup promised. The professor had forgotten about the apology, and Buttercup was glad he did.

As soon as the professor left, she turned to Bubbles, who was playing with HER train, and glared at her, at the same time smiling maliciously. All the while, Blossom had been watching, and although she hadn't learnt all the words for the thought yet, she thought that her daddy was heroic for what he did. She thought that what he did was good, and she wanted to be just like him.

'What was I doing? What was I thinking?' the professor thought, worried about his lack of control earlier. He had nearly lost it. 'I'll do better… It's all going to be fine, Thomas, you just have to bear with it…'

Then a thought occurred to the professor. The sudden burst of strength from Buttercup. The girls' physical strength hadn't gone unnoticed. At first, he'd thought that it was his mind playing tricks on him, that it was just exhaustion building a circus for him. For days, he had thought that instant growth and accelerated mental development were the only traits provided by Chemical X, but that view had been proven wrong (and gladly). Now, it was only a matter of testing its limits, and he had already come up with several ways to measure the girls' physical strength safely - and it would keep the Organization off his back and give him more time to raise Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.

Chapter Text

B-47, B-48 and B-49 W1 Report

DOC: 29 NOV 1988

Created By: Agent Utonium

Title: First Week Development

Desc: On awakening, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup (I would like to request that the girls be officially named as such, even in Project Powerpuff) were able to emote themselves. While lacking any skills with the use of their limbs, they are perfectly healthy and is able to function as children do.

In general, the girls are learning at a rapid pace. By the end of this project week, they are able to use the toilet, wash themselves, eat and drink, walk, run, play with their toys, draw and speak. With just another week or two of familiarization, all of those things should become second nature to them. Their vocabulary consists of about 195 words now, which is amazing progress for 1-week-olds. However, progress between the three girls are not consistent.

Blossom appears to absorb lessons the fastest, and appears to be the most cooperative of the three.

Buttercup is physically more able, outshining Blossom in this respect, but falls behind in learning, and has mastered about 160 words thus far. There are words she is having difficulty with.

Bubbles concerns me the most, as she is falling behind in every respect. While she is able to walk and run confidently, she refuses to use those abilities freely. Her grasp of the English language remains the weakest. The last time I checked, she knows less than 50 words at heart, and her backlog is piling up.

For now, I would not recommend doing any sort of invasive or instructive tests and examinations. It is advisable that we let the girls develop their cognizance further first before we attempt anything of that sort. However, I will investigate the cause of both their shortcomings and strengths once they are mentally ready to handle them.

However, I have observed that they appear to possess superior strength compared even to a regular adult human being. I will proceed to set up simple tests to determine the extent of this enhancement. However, as I am not willing to endanger their lives and limbs in any way, I will not be exploring the upper limit of their physical strength just yet.

To remind all who are concerned, please remember that these girls are only ONE WEEK OLD. Whatever shortcomings they have, are only a matter of comparison between the three. Even Bubbles can be considered a prodigy, if measured up against a regular 1-week-old human being. While they may look like 5-year-olds, no one should expect to act like 5-year-olds, not yet. Much less the 'crime-fighting human platform' you guys want so much.

In fact, I believe the girls' greatest achievement is their ability to love, connect, and care. If nothing else, this is what I believe is the most important thing for the time being.

Agent Utonium

Field Researcher

B-47, B-48 and B-49 W1 Report Response

DOC 30 NOV 1988

Title: I Decide Things Here

Desc: Utonium, this has got to be the most unprofessional and poorly written report from you I have ever seen. I do not want to hear anything else about 'love' and 'connect' and 'care' and all that kind of jazz any longer. Remember what I told you the last time? Project Powerpuff is an initiative to create a system for reducing crime rate (after its scope was changed from warfare), not to create 'the perfect little girl'. We don't need children who'd just play house all day long. Please restrict your report to the relevant information.

Furthermore, your request to change their designation from B-47, B-48 and B-49 to Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup (is that the right order? I don't care) is denied. You appear to have forgotten that these subjects are lab-grown animals, just that they appear human this time. You shouldn't have named them, but since the damage has been done, you may call them what you will, but that will only be between the four of you.

Also, this is not a suggestion: Implement the tests next week. Since they appear to be able to speak and understand words, this shouldn't be a problem, now would it? Just teach them words related to the tests. In fact, you don't even have to. It is not a requirement that they understand what is going on. Do you really need me to tell you how to do your job? A test subject does not need to understand what a syringe is for blood to be drawn from her.

Lastly, keep me updated on subjects B-47 to 49's enhancements. The Organization is most interested in those areas. Keep us updated and don't stray again. Perhaps you've been too engrossed with your current work. Or perhaps you've been away from HQ for too long. But let me remind you that the Organization is a serious organization, and Project Powerpuff is an important initiative. We have a country, even a world, to make a better place of. Do not slow us down.

Agent Cliff

Organization Director

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Weight of It All

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

30 NOV 1988. 0754.

Lighting his pipe, Professor Utonium bit on it and inhaled. He was looking out at the driveway, the streets. It was snowing, and the front lawn was almost completely covered. His eyes wandered down the streets, at his neighbors' houses. He saw an unmarked van, innocuously WHITE with shaded windows. He didn't need to go up to the van and bang on the cab window to know who was inside. It was the Chief of Security's men, and they'd inched closer to The House, to the girls. Thinking back, he could recall seeing the van a few days ago. It was likely that they'd been there for just as long. He could only pray that the Chief of Security was there to protect the Girls, as promised, and not for anything else.

It was the start of the Girls' second week. Professor Utonium could only hope that their innocence would remain intact throughout. The way the Organization Chief was rushing him, it seemed as if he was bent on scarring the Girls as quickly as he could.

The Professor sighed, and headed up the stairs gingerly, as if he was in pain, and into the Girls' room. He was exhausted, as usual. He had pulled a late-night shift, preparing paperwork and forms for the test ahead; squeezing in his own research on the bizarre nature of Chemical X - with the little time he had. He went nowhere real. He couldn't even remember when he'd passed out, and the next thing he knew, he had woken up on his desk in cold sweat.

The day was spent learning as usual, but deep in his heart, he knew what the day was going to be far, at least as far as the Organization was concerned. The first test would be held today, and although he was excited to see the extent of his Girls' strength, he knew that it would be like opening Pandora's Box - it would be the first of many things he would be doing to the Girls, and the Organization would just demand more and more, until…

In the Girls' room, Blossom was drawing with Bubbles while Buttercup was left alone with her hoarded toys.

"Kitty… Kitty… Cute kitty," Bubbles was able to enunciate the few words she knew as she rendered a rather unconvincing cat with too long a body and legs that were too thick. It was all in black - thanks to Chief of Logistics Wiggums, who thought that black crayons was all they ever needed.

"Bubbles, look this!" Blossom said excitedly as she held up a picture she drew of the family: Professor Utonium and them. It attracted the attention of the professor, and he came to look as well. It consisted largely of stick figures, but the shape of the hair gave away who was who. Blossom was drawn with with a crayon, Bubbles had a white teddy bear while Buttercup had her toy train. The professor was the biggest stick figure, with his clipboard.

It reminded Utonium that someone was missing from the table. He turned around. "Buttercup, why don't you come here and draw with us?"

Buttercup was still frowning and seated on the floor, this time in a WHITE t-shirt and light green pants. She was wheeling an abstract WHITE toy truck left and right. She shook her head. She appeared a little upset… At something. 'Perhaps the incident before?' Professor Utonium thought. "Come on, Buttercup, be a sport," he then turned to Blossom and Bubbles. "You forgive her, right?" The two girls nodded vigorously, with excited eyes staring at Buttercup, who, despite it all, they recognized as their sister, one of them.

"Okay…" Buttercup relented, and walked over, depositing herself on an empty stool. All she would draw was her train and various other vehicles.

Later at night, an hour after dinner, Professor Utonium led the Girls down the stairs, this time without carrying them. Cautiously, as if the stairs would just collapse or swallow them up, the Girls formed a chain and descended step by step, in order of: Utonium, Blossom, Bubbles then Buttercup. Looking back at the Girls while going down the stairs, the Professor saw that Blossom appeared excited, Bubbles afraid while Buttercup determined. Eventually, they made it down, and it was a minor victory to underscore what was to come.

They had to go down another flight of stairs, this time leading down into the laboratory. Professor Utonium shepherded them to the lab door, which was essentially a small blast door, airtight with hydraulic seals behind, and opened it. There was a second door behind it, forming an airlock - the work of the doomsday prepper who came before them - which the Professor got them through as well. Then there was the stairs, another set of intimidating stairs!

Bubbles cried, begging to be held while Blossom and Buttercup moaned.

"Oh alright, come here, you poor thing," Professor Utonium said as he picked up Bubbles, feeling himself more poor than her, as his back erupted in pain after that. The blue-eyed girl wrapped her arms and legs around him as he took Blossom by a hand and led them down once more.

The hum of supercomputers became apparent. This was where the Chief of Logistics excelled at his job. He had given him a lab almost as well-equipped as a regular lab in an Organization outpost, if only a little smaller. It had everything he needed, including a wide, open space contained within bulletproof shock glass for tests to be conducted. That was where Utonium led the girls to next.

Putting down Bubbles, he got on one knee, getting to her level. "Girls, do you know why we're down here?"

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup looked at each other in puzzlement.

"To play?" Blossom guessed. Professor Utonium smiled.

"Oh, it can be fun, but listen," Professor Utonium said. "You Girls are special, you know that? You're all smart, and strong; perfect angels."

All the three girls did was to smile at him.

"We'll play a game to see how strong you three are!" The Professor proclaimed, changing his tactic mid-conversation. Building up excitement; it worked the last time.

"Yay!" the Girls cheered at the thought of playing another game, and it was all the more fun as it was in a different place, with different colours and shapes and other things. The supercomputers in the lab resembled giant toys to them - but before they could touch it, the Professor led them into the test area.

In the test area, the floor was white and the lighting very bright, making clear what sat in a row across the area. There was a series of cubes with handles on opposing sides, each one bigger than the last. They were ordered in yesterday. Labels denoted their weight, but the girls could not understand what they mean: 50lbs/22.68kg, 100lbs/45.36kg, 150lbs/68.04kg, 200lbs/90.72kg, 250lbs/113.40kg.

Looking at the weights he ordered himself, Professor Utonium did not expect any of the girls to be able to carry beyond 100lbs. He remembered the trials of earlier predecessors of Chemical X: most of the subjects of those trials did not have enhanced strength, and he had learned not to expect too much.

Chapter Text

Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Strength Test 1 Log

DOC: 30 NOV 1988

Subjects Involved:

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Equipment Used:

1x 50lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 100lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 150lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 200lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 250lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x Medical Kit

3x Strength Test forms

1x Clipboard

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Operating Procedure:

- As a control test, I will lift the weights first.

- The Girls are to take turns lifting each steel weights.

- Time before exhaustion sets in is to be recorded.

- The Girls are to be examined for physiological reactions.

- A rest period of ten minutes is designated between each consecutive weight levels.

- Safety is paramount. Test to stop if any difficulty whatsoever is encountered by the girls.

- Standard first aid procedures is a must.

Test Results:

50lbs Steel Weight

S0064 (Utonium): I managed to carry the weight with little difficulty. I can even shift it around.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no difficulty. 10 minutes elapsed with no change in condition.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty. 5 minutes before test ceased.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no difficulty. 3 minutes before test ceased.

Notes: Even at this stage, it is astounding how the Girls carried a 50lbs weight with no apparent difficulty or strain. They carried the weights while laughing and talking. They were each examined for any change in physiology. Their heart rate appears normal. No sweat, no increased blood circulation.

The Girls became increasingly restless and bored while carrying the weights, so I have decided to cut the tests early after Blossom's attempt. From now on, the time will not be recorded if the Girls show no sign of physiological and behavioral change.

100lbs Steel Weight

S0064 (Utonium): It was difficult for me. It was all I can do to lift it up.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no difficulty

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no difficulty

Notes: Same as before. No change in physiology or behaviour. It's the same as picking up a toy - Buttercup said so herself. Also, they can tell what is heavy and what isn't, despite their tolerance to heavier weights.

150lbs Steel Weight

S0064 (Utonium): I think this is my recommended limit, as I was sweating, shaking and panting so much. Even the Girls were worried about me.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no difficulty

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no difficulty

Notes: (scribbled with poor handwriting) This is approaching the average man's carry capacity. Same physiological and behavioral reaction in that there is none.

200lbs Steel Weight

S0064 (Utonium): Lifted the weight off the ground by about an inch, but I had to drop it within a few seconds. Serious pain and exhaustion experienced in hands and arms, heavy perspiration and breathing.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no difficulty

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Felt 'funny' in her fingers. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

Notes: (scribbled in even worse handwriting) This is far beyond my expectations. The girls are special, which is why I have insisted again and again that they are irreplaceable. They are just over 1-week-old, and they are capable of carrying more than an adult's capacity.

Bubbles was examined for physiological changes, and there was a slight increase in heart rate. Behavior includes shifting the weight. However, this could be the result of boredom or stress, rather than difficulty. Reluctantly, I went ahead with the next subsequent weight with Bubbles.

250lbs Steel Weight

S0064 (Utonium): N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Felt a 'tickle' in her hands. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty. When prompted, alleged that she felt nothing.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Explosive bowel evacuation while lifting weight. She did not wish to talk about the test after that.

Notes: While it may seem that Bubbles was having difficulty with the 250lbs weight, I insist that it was not so. Bubbles was merely experiencing stomach upset from dinner, which consisted of porridge with a little pepper, resulting in the aforementioned fecal incontinence. I was thinking of introducing them to the concept of spices. This is the first time she has ever suffered from diarrhoea, so it was unexpected for all involved. She also told me that she was nervous that she could not be like her sisters, so this has nothing to do with her physical ability and more to do with psychology.

Needless to say, I had to do damage control with Bubbles; Buttercup began laughing at her because of this while Blossom seemed a little horrified and Bubbles was very upset and inconsolable because of her 'accident'.

Conclusion: It is reasonable to assume that Chemical X has something to do with the Girls' strength. However, the reason behind this requires more investigation. The Girls have been established to be able to carry more than 5 times their weight, or the maximum carry capacity of 5-year-olds.

This implies a lot about the Girls' anatomy as well. For a 5-year-old to carry such a weight, they will need the ability to produce and channel the required amount of energy in their body. They will need the muscle and bone strength to match, as well as pain tolerances and mental fortitude to carry out the act.

Further Investigation: As it seems that weights up to 250lbs pose no difficulty whatsoever to the Girls, I will re-do the test in the near future with heavier weights and larger increments in difficulty. I am thinking 300lbs, 400lbs and 500lbs. I will also be introducing more advanced medical equipment to take readings of their vitals. Furthermore, adding pepper to their porridge before a test like this was a bad idea and won't be repeated.

I seriously doubt that the girls will be able to carry beyond 10 times their own weight. As their caretaker, I hesitate to push them too aggressively.

On a side note, I think I should do the test with Bubbles alone, in case something else might happen to her again that would shame her in front of Blossom and Buttercup. I don't want any of them to be traumatized and discouraged from these experiments. They should be free to discover their true selves and what they are capable of.

Once they are more mature, I will investigate the contents and structure of their tissue to determine the cause of this, but I have a few theories of my own. In short, it is possible that Chemical X, along with its stabilizing agents, could have enhanced their body in a number of ways, either changing their genes to express the right substances, fortifying their body, or to directly enhance their bodies. However, from a biochemical standpoint, it's beyond belief how any substance could accomplish any of these.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Jojo

Geographical Location Classified. Organization HQ.

17 JUN 1988. 1418. (5 months ago)

The HQ laboratory was a scene of cacophonous pandemonium. Jojo, Head Researcher Utonium's uplifted Chimpanzee assistant, was running wild, and it was sending the Organization's brightest minds running for their lives, huddling in corners.

"What the hell is it doing!?" one of them shouted. "Call security!" another screamed. Yet another ordered. "Call anyone!" one amongst them panicked. In its frenzy, Jojo had already injured a scientist, scratching him up and slamming his head against the wall. The doctor in biochemistry was lying on the ground, near a computer, and no one was sure if he was going to be alright.

Professor Utonium was still at his post. He had been preparing some chemicals to stabilize Chemical X, and when he turned around to see what was happening, he could not bring himself into action. Jojo had never acted that way before. "Jojo! Cut it out!" He ordered, but the Chimpanzee would not listen. By that time, it was already close, and after sweeping a full set of lab glass onto the ground, it barreled into Professor Utonium, sending it flying to the ground, arms wide as he tried in vain to catch hold of something, or find his balance. Pipettes and centrifuges and beakers were sent toppling into the ground.

But the worst damage of it all was the vial of Chemical X, which had toppled over and emptied itself into a conical flask filled with a half-finished stabilizing agent meant to augment Chemical X. The conical flask was knocked over, but it was thankfully trapped in a diagonal position, in between a timer and beaker, and had only spilled a fraction of its contents. After getting up, Professor Utonium could only stare in horror as his work was ruined - work that took weeks to draft, prepare for and execute.

"Jojo!" he screamed in literal agony, and would be dishonest to say he didn't wish ill on the Chimpanzee - that was, until he saw what had happened to him. At some point, the uplifted Simian lab worker had bashed its head in, and now it was leaning against the counter where the Chemical X stood. Anger turned to horror when Professor Utonium saw the damage he had done to himself, and what was worse was that Jojo had contaminated himself with Chemical X after launching itself at it. "Jojo!"

Just then, the entrance into the lab opened, and eight security officers came charging in, wearing vests and pointing their pistols and shotguns at the Chimpanzee.

"Wait! Stop! He's injured! He's no threat!" The Professor ordered, shielding Jojo from the guns. The security guards stood down. Among them was the Chief of Security, who came forward while holstering his pistol.

"I told you about that monkey, didn't I?" he reminded the professor, his rage barely contained. The Chief of Security was quite old, past retirement age and hardly looking it and he was still bigger than anyone in the lab, or even his security teams. He wouldn't have looked much worse even without the Organization's health benefits. The man had simply won the genetic lottery. Professor Utonium had seen his medical report. He looked like he was going to commit a second Simian fit, but, thankfully, the Chief of Security was also a highly intelligent man. "The moment I looked at him, I knew that he would get out of control sooner or later. Monkeys don't just become men overnight."

"You're right of course," the professor replied, a little intimidated by the Chief of Security himself. The hulking man was doing his job all too well. "But there's got to be a reason why Jojo did these things. He's hurt. We should call medical."

"No one's calling medical this time, Utonium," The Chief of Security warned as he pressed himself up closer to the professor. Utonium himself was taller than average, but the Chief was even taller, by more than a head. "That monkey is done, sonny. I'm taking him to the Termination Chamber."

The moment the Chief of Security said those two dreaded words, the professor could see his life flashing by - not his entire life, but his time with Jojo. The Chimpanzee was never a threat, not until today. Jojo was an exemplary lab assistant, working tirelessly for no gain but his friendship. It was a friend, and he swore that it could understand what he said and feel sometimes - he had the scientific data to prove it. Jojo's Cerebrum had grown after its exposure to Chemical W, the direct predecessor of Chemical X, and it was far more active than in normal Chimpanzees, than his family in animal storage. Whenever the Professor had a rough day at work, Jojo was there, doing tricks to make him feel better, or just giving him a simple pat in the back or making microwave food for him. They were little things, but it gave him hope. It was clear that Jojo saw him as a surrogate father, and Professor Utonium had treated him as a son.

"He is a Chimpanzee, you ape," the Professor corrected the Chief, anger seething inside of him. The only thing keeping him from punching the lights out of the Chief was his inability to win in a physical altercation and his professionalism. "There's a big difference. And you're not taking him to Termination. He and his kind here has sacrificed everything for us! Involuntarily! It's only fair that we take good care of them, and give them what we rightfully owe them! Now Jojo needs medical attention, and I'm giving it to him. He and his family was taken from the wild, and I'm sending them back eventually, whether you like it or not."

"Jojo, maybe. But not the rest of his family," the Chief of Security said with a grin. Professor Utonium did not miss it, and the implications tore him apart.

"Blackwater… What did you do?" the Professor questioned the big, insurmountable man.

"There was a budget cut. We couldn't afford to take care of all the animals," the Chief of Security explained. At least his grin had disappeared.

"What did you do?" the Professor repeated, shaking not with anger, but now with shock.

"Shot them in their cages. Cyanide darts," the Chief of Security confessed. The look on Professor Utonium's face couldn't be described. "Jeez, Utonium, what's with the look? It was quick and painless, doc. And we only took out half the monkeys - you still have the other half to work with."

"Why wasn't I told?" Professor Utonium said, his voice almost a whisper. He had to lean against his Chemical X counter for support. "No one ran it by me? I could have - I could have set them free instead - or, or, balance the finances and find some way to accommodate them - why wasn't I told?"

"Org-Chief knew you'd say something like that. We can't afford to fly them back to Mozambique and certainly not with what we've exposed them to… and we sure as hell can't afford to 'balance the finances'. We've let too many subjects die or escape, and we've produced too little results. The Senate and President - Professor?" Blackwater was in the middle of his explanation when the Professor just up and left. Scooping up Jojo from the ground, he, with little energy, carried the Chimpanzee to the Medical Wing.

Professor Utonium didn't say it, but he knew exactly why Jojo had gone berserk. After all, it was helping to distribute documents on the way to the lab, and Animal Holding was on its path. He couldn't put such a thing in the reports though. Only he would know and believe in the Chimpanzee, no one else.

The professor could only feel all the worse, when he discovered that Jojo had unknowingly helped to create a stabilized version of Chemical X - thus saving the Organization and everyone in it from early retirement, and giving birth to B-47, B-48 and B-49, otherwise known as Blossom, Buttercup and Bubbles.

"I'm sorry, Jojo."

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: The Rise

The County of Pokey Oaks. Organization Outpost Charlie-02.

30 NOV 1988. 2307.

"Hey Ernie, how's the preparations coming along?" George asked his friend over the radio. It had been a long night, and the only thing that was marginally meaningful was their order to execute a lab chimpanzee. He remembered the name of it: Jojo. He was there when the crazy monkey had wreaked havoc among a group of innocent, defenseless scientists.

"I just finished up, bud. Quit badgering me about it. I'm just going to get Lara and Bob from the lunch room so we can get it over with," Ernie said over the radio. George swinged his chair around to the monitors in front of him. Searching the screens, he finally found his friend, on the way to the lunch room, as promised. He checked another screen, and saw Lara and Bob talking over some midnight burgers. He was staring at Lara, and he couldn't help but to wonder how she managed to keep her shape despite her fast food diet, how - tearing his eyes away from Lara's boobs, he covered them. "Oh Jesus, what was I doing?" He swiveled his chair around to his desk to the side, and picked up a photo of his family. A plain but intelligent-looking wife (it was all in the eyes) and two kids - a boy and a girl. He gave a sigh. The job itself wasn't hard, but the isolation from his family was getting to him. He couldn't wait to get his leave.

He had missed his last one thanks to this 'Jojo', when he was selected to be part of the execution squad. The chimp was originally from HQ, and had been isolated and nursed back to health on the instructions of Professor Utonium. George couldn't say that he especially liked the professor, not when he had repeatedly put the Organization, and thus his job, at risk because of his insistence to follow an idealistic moral code. However, the security officer had to give the scientist credit - Professor Utonium was passionate as hell. If it wasn't his work, then he'd treat his colleagues as if they were walking piles of platinum. The professor had treated Jojo himself, and he had heard stories of the his friendship with the chimp, as well as some rather crude jokes about it, especially from the boys at security; telling and hearing jokes like that was like a staple of being part of the tribe.

From what he heard, due to the chimp's exposure to Chemical X, it couldn't be allowed to work as a lab assistant anymore. Moreover, it seemed to have lost all composure, though George had to wonder - how on Earth does a monkey become a lab assistant in the first place?

'Those scientists guys can be a bunch of real nutjobs,' he would consistently think.

Then he was transferred to Organization Outpost Charlie, along with the mutated chimp. From what he'd seen, Professor Utonium had created something big, something crazy. Well, actually not that big. He'd seen it for himself. Babies grown out of petri dishes! What would they think of next? George had guarded the little lab-grown girls himself, and it was little wonder that the Professor had become obsessed with them. The three kids, all girls, whom the Organization had so boringly dubbed B-47, B-48 and B-49, were quite cute, more so than his own kids - and the only reason why he'd call his own children the prettiest children on Earth was because he was their father.

Last he heard, Professor Utonium got himself willingly demoted to raise the lab-grown girls. He'd put in a request for Jojo to join them, but the Organization Chief had denied that request FIRMLY. He'd heard lots of things; it was all part of the job. And here's the kicker: the Organization Chief had also ordered Jojo's execution behind the professor's back. And that was the story of how George and his security pals wound up with the chimp for execution. The chimp was transferred to his outpost specifically for that, so that Utonium's friends on the inside wouldn't catch on so quickly.

For days, it rotted in its cell, and the one time George visited the simian and fed it peanuts, he actually felt sorry for it. It wouldn't eat the peanuts of course, as if it knew its time had come.

It likely did, at least that was what he thought.

He remembered how it looked like, right down to the wrinkles on its face. It wasn't a wonder why it was kept in isolation. Its brain had grown like ten times its original size, such that Professor Utonium had to design an artificial skull to protect it. The skull was a waste. Within an hour, the protection it provided wouldn't matter any longer.

"Hey Ernie, you guys at Jojo's cell yet?" George bothered his friend again over the radio. He looked over at the monitors, staring at the camera feed with the chimp's cell in it. There was a problem with the feed, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Yeah, just a sec. I told you not to badger me," Ernie said over the radio.

"Impatient as usual, George?" Lara said on the same channel. George couldn't help but giggle in a manly way.

"Yeah, well…" George could only say - he wasn't sure what else he could add. It was Lara over the radio, after all.

"Oh my God," Ernie suddenly cut in.

"Wha- What's the matter? You guys at Jojo's cell yet?" George questioned, getting worried.

"Can't you see what's happened on the camera, George? Monkey's not here!" Bob cut in.

"What!? But- The camera- It-" George blabbered, staring straight at the Jojo cell feed. The chimp was clearly still there, sleeping on the cold, hard floor, peanuts still near the bars. That was when it hit him. He looked at the time stamp. The seconds ticked by, and when it hit a new minute, the time would reset itself to the minute the video started on. Back to square one after a short frazzle of static. It was a video loop. Someone had sabotaged the camera feed.

"The monkey! It's not there all along! Someone hacked the system!" George blared into the radio in a panic.

"What do we do!?" Bob shouted into the radio, clearly afraid. He had seen the cell alright, how wide the gate had opened. They were all briefed on Jojo. In the last few months Professor Utonium had spent with the chimp, it had grown dramatically smarter. The scientist had encouraged it. It was even able to speak where it previously could not, and it had made its hatred of the Organization as clear as day and known as black as night.

"Don't panic, people," George calmed them; it was his job as the leader of the security detail. His rank was lieutenant, after all. He was there before, in the last trial when another subject escaped. He knew what to do… Right? "Get to the armoury. Break out the shotguns and wait for the others. I'll rally everyone- Order an evacuation- and call this in with HQ." It seemed too much. He wasn't expecting this.

Swiveling his office chair again, he reached for the phone and dialed the HQ's number. Putting the phone to his head, he waited for the beeps, then the voice. But there were no beeps, and certainly no voices. "What?"

There was only the sound of pattering in the room, in his command center. He swiveled his chair to face the door. The room was dark; he regretted not switching on the lights, but the darkness, coupled with the hum of the monitors had always been soothing for him, reminding him of TV night with his kids.

The light from the door was blocked, blocked by a shape. The shape of an over-sized brain encased in an artificial skull.

It bolted for him. George gave a terrified shout, reaching for his pistol, but the last thing he would see was the green, hairy face of a human-sized mutant chimpanzee as he felt himself being torn limb from limb.

"George? George?" Lara called into the radio, but there was no answer. She, Bob and Ernie had been waiting for almost ten minutes, keeping the armoury strong door open for the four other security officers on the premise.

"Hey George, you there?" Bob tried his turn, but the radio remained silent, with nothing but ghost and static speaking over it. "What the hell is going on?"

The sound of distant screams and gunshots answered their question almost succinctly.

"Shit," Lara swore as she trained her shotgun down a corridor, in the direction of the screams.

"All this, a chimp? I mean, even with a 'smart' one. How is this possible?" Bob wondered as he pointed his shotgun to the left, covering Lara. Ernie took the cue and covered right.

"I don't know, but best of luck to it. We've got a good spot," Lara said, trying to inject some manner of positiveness into the situation, where there was little. It sounded as if the entire outpost was gone except for them. After the screams and gunshot, there wasn't so much as a shift in the air.

"If only we have five times the men, like what the Chief promised us," Bob lamented.

"We'd have to wait a few weeks for that," Ernie explained.

Silence.

And just when they thought Jojo had given up on them, the ventilation grating above them fell open, the sound of screeching metal hinges compensating for their attacker's silence. Something fell on top of Bob, crunching and breaking bones, instantly killing the man. The thing then grabbed Ernie's shotgun, pushing it up against his chin and pulling the trigger. A shower of blood, bones, teeth, bits of skin and eyeballs. The resultant blast had made sure that even Ernie's wife would not be able to recognize him.

Lara turned around, ready to fire on whatever had surprised them, but the thing had already seized the barrel of her shotgun and pushed it out of the way. Lara let off an anti-climactic shot, still sure she could put a dozen pellets in the beast, but it was too late.

It was the chimp. Jojo. And it was bigger than she thought it would be.

Wrenching the shotgun out of her grasp, the chimp threw it aside, took her by an arm and leg and threw her against the wall. She gasped in agony. Lara could hear something snap inside of her, but she wasn't done yet. She wanted to make it out alive; she had someone she wanted to meet and go out with, confessions to make, things she wanted to do before she die. She reached for her holstered pistol and pulled it out, managing to get off a cowboy shot, perhaps even hitting the damned creature, but this chimp, named Jojo, was far from over. Seizing her by the arms, one of which was broken, it threw her across the corridor and into the opposing wall, next to the armoury's strong door. Lara's pistol fell out of reach, just into the armoury.

Breathing felt like a swim across the Atlantic. Her left arm was broken, and she couldn't move her legs, couldn't even feel it. But she wasn't out yet, didn't want to be out. With her one good arm, she reached for her pistol in the armoury, just beyond the strong door…

Only for Jojo to slam the strong door shut, shattering her wrist bones into a million pieces, into dust, like glass dropping on the floor.

Then footsteps in the distance.

Jojo picked up Bob's shotgun, examining it before cocking it. A remaining two more security officers, stragglers late to the scene, had come charging towards it. Jojo aimed and fired multiple shots, cocking in rapid succession. The men did not expect it. They fell one after the other, their bodies thumping on the floor.

But it wasn't over yet. Jojo could still hear breathing, laborious breathing. Wet breathing. He turned to the sound, and saw that Lara was still alive.

"P-please… Please don't… I h-have family-" the security officer begged.

"So did I," Jojo said rhetorically, before pointing the shotgun one-handed at her face, just inches away. Lara gave a terrified scream before the large chimp pulled the trigger.

"Ven-geance. Vengeance! VENGEANCE!" The chimp screamed in fury, followed by a most evil laughter.

Chapter Text

A/N: (2 JUL 2024) Fixed chapter summary. Damage is done by Jojo, not the Girls.

Organization Combat Report 11301988-C02

DOC: 1 DEC 1988

Updated: 2 DEC 1988

Battle of Charlie-02

Introduction: Professor Utonium's mutated chimpanzee, Jojo, escaped and went on to do damage to both facility and personnel.

Date/Time: 30 NOV 1988. 2200 (est) - 2330 (est).

Location: Pokey Oaks Country, Organization Outpost Charlie-02

|Belligerents|

Organization

- 8 Organization security officers (Lieutenant George Rousseau in command)

- 3 Scientists (attached to Project Powerpuff)

- 11 Technicians (attached to Project Powerpuff)

- 19 Support personnel

[8 combatants and 33 civilians total]

Project Powerpuff Subjects

- Jojo (mutated chimpanzee)

[1 combatant total]

|Casualties & Losses|

Organization

- 8 Organization security officers KIA

- 2 Scientists KIA, 1 MIA

- 11 Technicians KIA

- 18 Support personnel KIA, 1 severely wounded

[Total 8 combatants KIA, 31 civilians KIA, 1 MIA, 1 wounded]

Project Powerpuff Subjects

- Jojo (camera feeds suggest that it was at least wounded by pistol shot)

[Total 1 wounded]

Background

Investigative officers report that the security systems have been tampered with. Video and audio recordings, as well as stringent documentation suggests that it was an inside job. Forensic data suggests that Jojo was able to tamper with the camera system. The only possibility of it ever succeeding was that it had timed the guard rotations just right for it to be able to access a security panel to do this.

Supervisory reports of Organization Outpost Charlie-02 dating back to 28 NOV 1988 were less than optimistic, which points out that local security forces were under-strength by 50% of skeletal crew, unmotivated and had willfully made lapses in their duties. This is believed to have contributed to the defeat of on-site security officers in the hands of Jojo. Despite being armed with pistols and shotguns, the security officers were unable to incapacitate or kill the mutated chimp.

Order of Combat

- Jojo escapes cell under the cover of a tampered security system.

- He travels through ventilation into the security command centre, taking out security lieutenant George Rousseau.

- He travels through the ventilation system and into the barracks, killing most of the civilian personnel there. Resistance from civilians were minimal as most of them were asleep.

- Jojo had picked up maintenance tools at some point to augment his damage capability. Personnel were either killed by blunt force trauma from a sledgehammer or deep wounds from a crowbar.

- One off-duty security officer was killed in the barracks, the other was able to fire off a few shots, but missed. He was killed by a crowbar buried into the base of his skull. His body was mutilated by sledgehammer before Jojo dropped the sledgehammer. The sound of gunshots alerted the 3 security guards at the armoury.

- It once more uses the ventilation duct and dropped down on one security officer, killing him using the sheer mass of its body, turned another's shotgun on himself and savages the third security officer and eventually executing her with a shotgun fire to the face after gunning down two more officers responding to the sounds of the struggle with a scavenged shotgun.

Aftermath

Overwhelming victory for Jojo. Organization Outpost Charlie-02 was left completely bare of working personnel and thus non-functional. The armoury had been raided, as well as classified security gadgets. Most research materials and documents connected to Project Powerpuff and subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 were either destroyed by fire or stolen. The facility's power and inter-network grid was disabled.

By the time an investigative force of 20 security officers arrived on scene, Jojo was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Of Happiness & Pain

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

1 DEC 1988. 0713.

Professor Utonium woke up with a gasp. These days, he had the tendency to do that. Whether it was the phantoms of the past, or the fears of the present, or the ghosts of the future, he felt like he was under siege. This time, he was feeling feverish, and it was little wonder why. He had fallen asleep on the couch, and the fire had died down a little in the middle of winter. Getting up, he limped over to the fireplace and threw in another log, nudging at it with a fire poker to make sure it was in the right spot.

But the exhaustion wouldn't last, not in the face of what was planned for the day. It would be the first day the Girls would be coming out of the house. He knew it had to be soon - he was getting worried that Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup would develop a case of agoraphobia if they did not get out of the house.

And boy were they going to have a good time, because today was also the day that they would finally replace some of Chief of Logistics Wiggum's clinical furniture and toys. And probably get some real clothes too.

The morning, however, was all about play and learning as usual. After a breakfast consisting of porridge (without peppers, of course), the Professor led the Girls back to their rooms. They were growing accustomed to the stairs and the concept of vertical movement. 'Keep this up and they'd probably sprout some wings and fly,' the professor joked to himself as he was holding onto Blossom's hand, leading her up.

Bubbles was still upset about the diarrhoea incident of yesterday. As such, she would play with her white teddy bear all by herself in a corner of the room, with nothing but a tiny slice of the white wall and carpet to look at. When it was time to learn new words, she would speak them half-heartedly, absorbing even fewer words, being completely distracted. It broke the Professor a little that those baby-blue eyes of hers appeared so upset. He could only hope that her amazing ability to grow would extend to her emotional adaptability as well…

"Girls, we'll be going out today," the Professor announced with a smile. "I want all of you to be on your best behaviour."

"Yay! Explore!" Blossom erupted with the newest, hardest word she learned. "We get to see things!"

"Yeah! Fun!" Buttercup celebrated alongside her sister. "Run around!"

Even Bubbles had turned around. A smile slowly spread across her face. It was all she needed to communicate to the professor, for him to know that everything was fine with her.

"Now now, Girls. Best behaviour, remember?" Utonium repeated.

"Yes, daddy," the Girls chorused, with Bubbles joining in.

But just when they were about to leave, as Professor Utonium was staring out the window by the front door, he realised that the Organization security van he noticed just yesterday had crept even closer. Almost all pretenses were lifted, and it was right before the entrance of The House, on the opposite side of the road.

Turning around to the Girls, who were in the living room and just getting their first taste of TV with a puppet show, Professor Utonium said, "Stay there, Girls. There's something I have to do." With that, he marched right outside, ignoring the cold, even though he had only his lab coat on. Coming up to the van, he banged on the shaded cab door. Three loud bangs. Three angry bangs. The cab door window was wounded down.

Inside the cab were plain clothes Organization security. Suits with jackets for the winter. A shotgun was nestled in the centre of the cab, unapologetic about its presence. The driver looked on at Professor Utonium with a rather bored look. "Can I help you, agent Utonium?"

"Yeah. Would you mind explaining to me why you're invading our personal space?" the professor interrogated.

"Wasn't aware the street was your personal space," the bored security officer replied coolly. "We're here for your protection, agent - for the subjects' protection too of course."

"Are you? Those chimpanzees back in HQ would have disagreed," the professor said cynically. Just to look good for this moment, he resisted shivering in the wintry cold. "A lot of subjects you executed in the early days would have something to say about that."

"We're here on orders of the Chief, whether you like it or not," the head security officer said, ignoring the snark. "Something's going down, Utonium. You just don't know it yet."

"What's going down?" the professor questioned, his curiosity peaked. 'And surely, if they are here as it happened, then they must think it to be a threat to me and the Girls,' he thought.

"It's security business. We'll fill you in on a need-to-know basis. For now, I don't think you need to know anything - at least, that's the Chief's opinion. I'm just the muscle," the head security officer said, then his eyes, those cold steel eyes, shifted to look behind the Professor Utonium. "Looks like B-47 needs you. Don't keep it waiting," he said further, pointing behind the professor. The professor looked behind him to see Blossom pressing her face into the window glass, peering at him. The professor's mind began racing for an answer to explain everything.

Coming back into the house, he was still unsure of what to say.

"Who is he, daddy?" Blossom asked.

"Urm- Oh- He- A Neighbor? I was just saying hello," Professor Utonium lied without thinking things through. He was out of time. Blossom suspected nothing, fully and intrinsically trusting the professor. Then, to the rest of the Powerpuff subjects, feigning full excitement when Utonium was a little rattled inside: "Okay, Girls, it's time to go. Put those winter wear on and follow me to the car. It's time for you all to see the big, wide world!" He went over to the coffee table, picked up the remote and switched off the television before helping the Girls with their jackets and gloves and boots. Hats. Buttercup and Bubbles were dressed in white (we all know who to thank) while Blossom had a pastel blue version of the gear, which would have looked a lot better on Bubbles.

They drove towards the city of Townsville, proper. Throughout the entire journey, the Girls were never bored. Everything was new to them, from the houses of the suburbs to the snowy plains between suburbs and city, then to the bustling city itself. Even when there was a pre-Christmas traffic jam, the Girls were ecstatic, playing a game with identifying the colors of the cars around them. Blossom was in the lead, and Buttercup was just thrilled to finally see life-sized and fully-colored versions of her toys. Bubbles looked around her with a faint smile, feeling slightly intimidated by the change of pace, so she leaped from the back seat to the front - almost flying because of her speed. The professor looked at her with a smile, and secured a seat belt around her.

All the while, the professor had been keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror. The Chief of Security's goons had been tailing them. The van wasn't far away, even in the traffic jam - they might be able to fool the Girls, but they weren't fooling him. The only good news was that if they were plotting to kill his Girls, they wouldn't be able to find a quiet spot to do it in the middle of the shopping season in the mall.

Then there was an explosion. It was nowhere near them, but it was loud enough that it shocked everyone in the car. Off to their right, there had been a robbery in progress at a city gas station. A shootout between attendants and robbers must have set off one of the gas pumps, and it was clear who the winners were. A group of men clad fully in black was sprinting for a car. In the distance, sirens were sounding.

"Wha- What is happening, daddy?" Blossom asked, terror in her voice.

"Whoa, cool!" Buttercup squealed in delight as she looked on.

Bubbles cowered in her front seat. Thankfully, the traffic jam was clearing, and the professor stepped on it. "Bad things, Blossom honey," he simply said, then fell silent. A robbery in broad daylight. The instant he saw it, he knew that it wasn't exactly the safe and sleepy city he asked for. In fact, had it not been for security, as much as he hated to admit it, he and the Girls would have been robbed blind within the week. He would have to dig deeper into this the moment he got back, along with a million other things to do.

Before they could leave, however, they could see a man limping out of the store - thankfully, he was wearing a black rock band shirt, and his blood couldn't be seen - and falling flat on the pavement. Another man was running haphazardly, on fire. He eventually dropped and rolled, just like how the PSA videos taught.

"Are those men hurt, daddy?" Blossom asked again. Buttercup was smiling at the mayhem in the background.

"They'll be fine, sweetie," the professor simply said. They drove away after that, with Blossom looking on sadly at the scene, until it was out of sight, just as the black-and-white police cruisers reached the gas station.

At the mall, Blossom hadn't recovered from what she had seen at the gas station robbery. She was still putting on a rather upset look that worried even passers-by at the entrance of the mall. "Should we help them, daddy?" Blossom insisted. The professor got down on one knee, looking at her. A tear had escaped her eyes.

"I know it looked bad, Blossom. But we can't help them," the professor said, aware that he wasn't speaking the whole truth - he wasn't even speaking in full confidence. He had no idea what the Girls were capable of yet, not that he would ever approve of them ever coming anywhere close to a crime in progress. To him, they were little Girls, his Girls, and even in technological terms, they were prototypes, not meant for deployment. "Besides, if it would make you feel better, there are people out there who'd help them." Blossom's eyes lit up a little, though she still seemed visibly upset. "Heroes, Blossy-dear. Police officers and doctors. You've seen pictures of them right? Now be happy and smile, Blossom. It's okay."

Blossom tried her best to smile, and it came out alright - though not enough to fool anyone. Professor Utonium simply act fooled. "Now let's go and have a good time," he then narrowed his voice into a whisper. "And remember, don't use your super-strength."

They continued walking. "It was cool, Blossom. Wow!" Buttercup added, mostly unaware that she was adding salt to injury. The professor halted.

"Buttercup," he called her sternly. The Girls stopped.

"Yes, daddy?" she asked innocently.

"It isn't 'cool'," he said.

"But- but- the fire, and the…" Buttercup tried to explain herself, but lacked the words for it. In the end, she imitated the explosion by motioning with her hands the expansion of the smoke and 'fire'.

"Buttercup. It's not cool. People suffered because of it," the professor lectured her. "And the word you were looking for is 'explosion'."

"Ex-plo-sion?" Buttercup repeated, and liked the word. "Yes, daddy." And all she had taken out of it was the new word signifying her new obsession.

After the lecture was done and over with, they went on their way. All the while, Professor Utonium had been discreetly looking over his shoulder. The same men from the van were there, and there were more than two. He knew that the back of the van was likely occupied, he just didn't know how insecure the Chief of Security was. As it turned out, he was very insecure. There were five men and a woman in total; four had been crammed into the back of the van. They were all dressed to blend in, mostly looking like people on a business trip, armed with a pistol or two hidden somewhere.

At the kiddy clothes store, the Girls were attracting stares, and so was Professor Utonium, though for all the wrong reasons.

"Colored contact lenses at five years old! How disgraceful!" the professor heard a woman in her thirties say. "Oh my," the thirties-woman commented, equally shocked, if the hand on her mouth was any indication. The Girls had heard them too, but the meaning was lost on them. They didn't even know what contact lenses were. Nor disgraceful, yet.

"My, mister, what beautiful children you have!" a more positive lady with a stroller couldn't help but to praise. "Yeah, those eyes!" the man accompanying the stroller lady added.

"Uh- Thanks, I guess," the professor said. He then turned to the Girls. "I think we should be quick about it, Girls."

And they were really quick. It helped that they had to be together at all times, so Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup ended up choosing the same type of clothes. As it just so happened, they had come upon a shelf advertising a type of dress-and-sash that came in all kinds of colors, arranged from hot to cold colors, from dark red to dark purple, as if the shelves were made from rainbow. The professor helped with the selection, and together, they all came to a unanimous agreement that dresses of the same colour as the Girls' eyes looked best.

To go along with the dress-and-sashes, the professor picked out some high socks and black Mary Jane shoes that would fit with the shade of the black sashes.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were so in love with this new outfit that they wore them on the immediately to purchase. The shop assistants had to rush to cut the price tags out as they were leaving. They loved it so much that the professor had bought seven sets for the each of them.

Whatever underwear, winter wear and other clothes they bought had become mere after-thoughts.

"And now they're even more beautiful!" the same stroller lady who had praised them earlier, did an encore - she just so happened to be outside with her baby and older kid. "Yeah, those eyes - and dresses!" her man reiterated.

By the time Professor Utonium and the Girls were done shopping, they had already made multiple trips to their car. The car boot was filled with paper bags upon paper bags of clothes, soft toys and other things and the backseats was only a little less occupied. The Girls were wearing jackets of the same signature colors for the winter weather, except for Buttercup, who had her eyes on a black leather jacket.

But what was most important of all were the gifts he had wrapped up for them in secret, as well as a rainbow-colored short and wide package he was balancing on his lap while he was driving. Whenever the Girls would ask about the contents of the mystery boxes, the professor would just ask them to wait, or guess what was inside.

Back at home, the mystery boxes were laid out at the dining table. The gifts were basically color-coded, with pink belonging to Blossom, blue to Bubbles and green to Buttercup. The only box that wasn't color-coded was a flat but wide box, which had a rainbow pattern to it.

With the family gathered, Professor Utonium opened the rainbow box, to reveal a rainbow cake. "Wow!" the Girls stared in awe, in unison.

"You see, Girls, I owe all of you an apology," the professor explained as he removed three candles from their packaging. "More than a week ago, the three of you were born. It was something worth celebrating over, but I was just too busy. I just thought I should do it now." Sticking the candles into the cake, he lit them up with the provided matchstick.

"Happy birthday, Girls," he wished them. "Even if it's belated. Close your eyes, make a wish and blow out the candles - one for each of you."

"What's a wish?" Blossom asked.

"It's when you think of something you want, Blossy-dear," the professor said. So the Girls closed their eyes.

'Please don't let anyone else be hurt,' Blossom thought.

'Haha- Explosions!' Buttercup thought.

'I want everyone to be happy forever,' and so did Bubbles.

And they made their wish, blowing out their candles.

Chapter Text

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's W2 Speed Test 1 Log

DOC: 2 DEC 1988

Created by: Agent Utonium

Introduction: Earlier in the afternoon, I had decided to take the Girls out for a jog around the neighbourhood. Security was following of course. How could they not? I realized within minutes that they were incredibly fast for a trio of 5-year-old equivalents who were just born last week such that I could not catch up with them and had to call for them to slow down a little. The following experiment is conducted to investigate the speed at which Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup could run.

Subjects Involved:

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Equipment Used:

1x Standard Exercise Treadmill

1x Standard medical equipment for measuring heart rate and breathing.

1x Timer

1x Clipboard

1x Speed Test Forms

1x Medical Kit

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Operating Procedure:

- As a control test, I will attempt to run at increasing speeds to find my maximum speed, which is defined as the speed I can hold for a minute.

- Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup will each take turns on the treadmill to define their maximum speed.

- For each level of speed, they will attempt to hold for as long as possible. Test to stop if any of the Girls become winded.

- Safety is paramount. If any of the Girls are at risk of injury due to exhaustion, the test will be terminated.

- Standard first-aid procedures is a must.

Test Results:

Control (S0064 Utonium)

T-0min: 3mph/4.8kph (Warm-up)

T-5min: 5mph/8.0kph (Sustained)

T-10min: 7mph/11.3kph (Sustained, but at this point I was beginning to have difficulty keeping up with the treadmill)

T-13min: 8mph/12.9kph (Sustained, barely)

T-15min: 9mph/14.5kph (Maximum speed)

T-16min: 10mph/16.1kph (Unsustainable. Test cut for me)

Conclusion: I need to exercise more, but I don't see how that is possible with my responsibilities.

B-47 (Blossom)

T-0min: 3mph/4.8kph (Warm-up)

T-3min: 5mph/8.0kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing. Test fast-forwarded on insistence of Blossom)

T-6min: 8mph/12.9kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-9min: 10mph/16.1kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-11min: 13mph/20.9kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-13min: 15mph/24.1kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-15min: 20mph/32.2kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-17min: 25mph/40.2kph (Sustained with slight increase in heart rate and breathing. Test cut.)

Conclusion: Blossom was able to maintain a speed of 25mph/40.2kph for 5 minutes without any difficulties in breathing nor exhaustion setting in. The treadmill was on maximum setting, and was rapidly heating up, so the exercise had to be stopped. As it turns out, it is the treadmill that needs rest more than Blossom. This is astounding! At this rate, even the champions of the Olympic dash events will lose easily to her! Based on the graph I've been reading of her vitals, I can only estimate a top running speed of about 50mph/80.5kph to 75mph/120.7kph. However, I won't be surprised if she could run at an even higher speed than that, even if it is for short bursts.

B-49 (Bubbles)

T-0min: 3mph/4.8kph (Warm-up. Bubbles insisted on going before Buttercup. This is encouraging)

T-3min: 10mph/16.1kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing. Test fast-forwarded on Bubbles' insistence.)

T-6min: 15mph/24.1kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-9min: 20mph/32.2kph (Sustained with slight increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-11min: 25mph/40.2kph (Sustained with slight increase in heart rate and breathing.)

Conclusion: If nothing else, Bubbles is almost as good as Blossom in running at high speeds. Her vitals did increase faster than Blossom's however, implying a slightly lower stamina. However, there is something else that could be gathered from this data here. It seems that a faster acceleration is not an obstacle. In fact, it is possible that Bubbles' faster increase in heart rate and breathing was the result of higher acceleration, or, if we consider the W1 Strength Test, simply nervousness. Bubbles is the shy one, so that is a likely explanation.

B-48(Buttercup)

T-0min: 10mph/16.1kph (Does not believe in warm-ups, so she started the test running immediately. While I didn't agree with this, I decided to let her go ahead to see if I can make any other interesting observations about their physiology. Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-1min: 15mph/24.1kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-2min: 20mph/32.2kph (Sustained with negligible increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-3min: 25mph/40.2kph (Sustained with slight increase in heart rate and breathing.)

T-4min: 28mph/45.0kph (Without consulting me, Buttercup increased the speed of the treadmill even further. The treadmill broke down and came to an abrupt stop, causing Buttercup to launch forward and hit the dashboard head-first. Surprisingly, she was uninjured, unless her pride was counted. She cried on the spot perhaps due to the shock of the trauma and had to be soothed.)

Conclusion: While disastrous in that the treadmill was a smoking wreck and unusable by the end and Buttercup was upset, it did show me something I would not have otherwise seen. Rapid acceleration is no problem for Buttercup, and very possibly for the other Girls too. However, I have yet to test if instant acceleration over mere seconds would prove too much for them.

General Conclusion: All of the Girls are projected to be capable of average speeds beyond that of even Cheetahs, but with the ability of sustaining the speed for an extended period of time. Acceleration to top speed is possible within minutes, though further experiments would have to be done to determine maximum acceleration. It is just entirely possible that they could reach maximum speed within a minute, owing to the nature of the basic anatomy of the human body.

This is incredible. I am proud of the Girls! It appears that what Chemical X has done to their strength, it has also done the same with their running speed. It is possible that the root cause above Chemical X is the same - increased production and release of energy (origin of which I have yet to figure out - it simply couldn't be the porridge I fed them), superior musculature and skeletal structure.

Further Investigation: It is not possible to repeat the experiment and test for higher speed limits and acceleration - if nothing else, Buttercup had proven that. In order to test for high speed and acceleration limits, a complete overhaul of the experimental set-up must be done, which is impossible for now. Quite simply, I will need a a stadium to accomplish the next level of speed testing, which would be a security nightmare for the Chief of Security. I'll have to shelf this one.

Chapter Text

A/N: (2 JUL 2024) Fixed Blossom calling the Prof by his title. Should be 'dad' instead.

Chapter 8: Stained

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

3 DEC 1988. 1220.

"-And there. It looks nice, doesn't it?" Professor Utonium said as both him and Blossom were standing in front of the mirror. The Professor had been figuring out her hair with the girl. They had tried everything - pig tails and pony tail, buns and hornet's nest. None of them worked, until they came upon the simplest solution - Blossom's hair looked best all combed down and with a red bow to hold the front and back in place. The colour had matched her eyes and dress.

"It's beautiful! Thanks, daddy!" she said. The professor had done the same with Bubbles, whose hair was the same as Blossom's, reaching down to her waist, except that it was blonde. For now, the professor had given her pig tails with blue ribbons instead, though it seemed a little inconvenient as it would reach down to her sides and get in the way of things. As it wasn't rocket science, the professor had opted to give Bubbles time to adjust to it, or they could brainstorm together for a new solution to her hairdo. For some inexplicable reason, putting a hair bow on Bubbles didn't really work. Meanwhile, Buttercup had been the wild one, refusing anything beyond a comb-down with her hair reaching out in massive tangles spreading all the way down to her waist. She had gone downstairs to wait for lunch - it was supposed to be a very special lunch.

While waiting downstairs, Buttercup had grown restless. She had tried to investigate for herself what the special lunch was, but the kitchen was empty. Normally, the professor would have put their impending lunch on the stove or the oven, but there was none. Looking outside the window, however, something else caught her eye. Some small animal, walking up to the window, disappearing under it soon after she spotted it. Whether it was a cat, or a dog, or an elephant or lion, she couldn't be sure, so she ran up to the front door, put on her winter gear, and rushed out excitedly.

It was obvious against the white of snow what it was when Buttercup was outside. It was a cat, larger than she thought it would be, with fur the colour of Blossom's hair. It was standing on two legs and pawing the walls of the house in an attempt to reach the warmth that the window of The House provided. Buttercup snuck up to it in awe.

"Kitty, good kitty…" she whispered, her raspy voice shivering with both the cold and anticipation of good times. When she got close enough, the cat got down on all fours and turned around to regard Buttercup with its sharp eyes. Buttercup bent down, reaching out for it. "Nice kitty…"

Then the furball exploded in a snarling puffed-up fit of rage.

Buttercup kicked it, shocked… Sending the cat into the wall, head-first.

The sound of the skull cracking and blood splattering made it all the worse. Buttercup's mistake was very much a visible red against the frost-covered wall. The cat wasn't moving after that.

At this point, any normal girl would be shocked, frightened and guilty of what she had done. Perhaps Buttercup was a little of each, but she could not help but to be fascinated by what had happened. She had never seen blood before, and the explosion and resultant suffering she witnessed before was tamed by distance and the mostly soundproof shell of the professor's car - nothing compared to what she had done first-hand.

Going down to her knees, she poked at the creature, noticing that it still didn't move after that. It wasn't sleeping - sleepers would stir after being jabbed at. She had tried that with her sisters. Then there was the blood. Taking off her gloves, feeling the pinch of cold but not caring, Buttercup ran her fingers against the blood. For some reason, it made her smile. It reminded her of the paint the professor had bought her.

Back to the cat, Buttercup became curious. She had seen the inside of things - boxes and stuff. Was there anything inside the cat? Seizing a handful of fur and skin, Buttercup tore at it, revealing even more blood… and flesh. It was like being in the playroom to her - learning new things, doing new things. It made her smile for some reason.

"Buttercup! Where are you! Lunch should be here any minute!" the professor from inside suddenly shouted. Buttercup panicked, looking around for a way to hide her mistake. Then it hit her, the snow! Shoveling up large amounts, she buried the cat under them, then tried to erase the bloodstain on the wall with a snowball. There was only so much she could do. She rubbed her naked hand against the snow, making red-brownish smudges, then covered those as well. "Buttercup! Are you in the toilet?"

When the deed was done, she wore her glove again and hurried through the front door, faking the best smile she had ever tried to fake. "I'm here, daddy!" She slammed the door shut, and leaned her back against it as though she was trying to keep something out.

"There you are! What were you doing outside? Didn't I tell you to stay put in the living room?" the professor lectured. Blossom and Bubbles followed up behind him.

"Nothing, daddy- Just- Just playing with the snow, I guess," Buttercup tried her best to lie. It wasn't at all convincing, but what did work was the fact that the professor couldn't even begin to guess what she was hiding. Instead, he assumed that she was just guilty for disobeying him. The professor bent down to regard her on her eye level. "Buttercup, I really need you to listen to me, okay? It's dangerous outside."

"Yes, daddy…" Buttercup said.

"Daddy, something smells funny…" Bubbles innocently said. Buttercup shot at the blue-eyed girl with a quick stare. Then the professor began sniffing the air.

"What's that smell?" he asked. Buttercup began panicking again, sweating cold sweat that she didn't even know she was capable of pushing out.

"Er- Er… I- The-" Buttercup stammered, still trying to think of a reason, but her inexperience fought against her.

"Must be something in the ground, am I right?" the professor guessed. Buttercup felt like a grilled prisoner, only that she wouldn't know what that would be like, but the feeling was all the same. Still, she was determined not to tell the truth. The professor had taught them what it meant to be good girls - and respecting life (in simpler terms, of course) was one of them.

"I- I don't know," Buttercup eventually settled on the answer.

"You must have dug too deep and hit the soil," the professor guessed again. Some of the tension in Buttercup was lifted, though she was still afraid of being discovered. "Is that right, Buttercup?"

"Y-yes," she lied, her arms on her back, playing with her foot. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's alright, Buttercup. Listen to daddy next time, okay?" the professor said, and Buttercup agreed. "Now toss those dirty gloves into the basket and wash your hands. Lunch should be coming any minute now."

Buttercup raced to the washroom. "That's my girl!" the professor said after her. She didn't just wash her hands. She rinsed her gloves as well, and watched the faint blood from both swirling into the washing basin. She'd made sure to scrub her hands clean.

"Phew!" she said, crisis averted, as she deposited the gloves into the laundry basket on the way to the living room. Despite the social dangers she had put herself in, what had happened earlier with the cat had made an impression upon her. She couldn't help but to look upon it with fascination, still, and it felt like something that she would try again sometime. And then there was Bubbles - Buttercup just could not help but to dislike her for very nearly causing her to be caught red-handed.

Ten minutes later, the rarely used doorbell rang. Professor Utonium came up to the door and opened it. The Girls watched as this strange phenomenon took place. They could barely see who the alien at the door was - it was someone with a strange gadget on his head, connected by black wire to a device on his heap, with a brown hat with some sort of messy 'hairy' picture on it, a black shirt and jeans. The professor produced some green paper from his pocket and gave it to the man, who in turn handed a bag full of… Things to him.

"Thanks for the delivery. Keep the change," the professor uttered some strange language which the Girls could not decode. After closing the door, the professor turned around, revealing a paper bag.

"What is it, dad?" Blossom asked. Bubbles thought she could smell something, but it seemed unfamiliar. She opted to wait before saying anything.

"Is it something we can eat?" Buttercup guessed.

"I've yet to perfect the recipe for spaghetti and meatballs, so I decided to get someone else to do it instead…" the professor explained, going at length to describe how restaurants and delivery worked. The Girls hung onto his every word - for now, they wanted to learn everything, and wouldn't discover what was boring to them until later on.

Setting the paper bag down on the dining table, the professor took out plastic lunchboxes filled with the stuff. The set was complete with mushroom cream soup and soda. A whole new spectrum of food for the Girls to experience, and decide what they liked. With the soda, the professor had decided to make an exception and let them have it… For once.

Settling down to the meal, the professor showed them how the fork was operated, and how the spoon was used for soup. They discovered, together, the benefits of the straw, and all of this was made all the more palatable by the food. It was another magical moment for them, simple as it was - to the professor, it was necessary for what must come next, to sate the Organization's lust for data from their latest prototypes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Narrow Aversion

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

4 DEC 1988. 1419.

The new furniture for the Girl's room had finally come. Although the movers had offered to help them redecorate, Professor Utonium opted to just let them have the old furniture - Wiggum's monstrosities - and let them go. The professor thought that it would be a good time for the Girls and him to bond after a long morning of learning even more new words and ideas. And it wasn't just some redecorating they were going to do. He had also ordered in some paint, and he kept the color a surprise.

After moving out the toys and wall accessories and padding the Girls' room with newspaper, he showed the Girls the art of wall-painting. "Is it like drawing a picture?" Bubbles asked innocently.

"Nope, but it's easier and just as fun," the professor replied. "Now, we start by cleaning the wall."

And so they wiped the wall with water and cloth.

"And next…" the professor bent down to pick up a can of primer from a paper bag.

"But dad… Our room is white. Why are we painting it white again?" Blossom asked, misinterpreting the primer as white paint.

"Maybe it's a special kind of white?" Buttercup suggested.

"No, Buttercup. It's just the primer. It'll help the paint stick," the professor explained. He showed them the brushes to be used, and how to apply the primer. They had fun coating the walls, forgetting about what had happened yesterday. However, the professor still thought it necessary to make it up to them - and he had spent hours in the night, just thinking things through.

Last night had been terrible. After tucking the Girls in, after preparing his daily Organization reports and making late-night orders for the upcoming experiments, he had collapsed in the living room, on the sofa… And descended into a guilt-ridden spiral of no return. The Girls' crying continued to ring in his mind, as he stabbed and sliced at them with his instruments. No physical damage was done, but he knew that it had opened a rift between him and the Girls, no matter how small and unnoticeable at first. A hairline fracture was still a fracture, and knowing the demands placed on him, he knew that it could only get worse.

In the end, after smoking his pipe, his dosage of tobacco already twice as much as before, he fell asleep on the sofa and woke up feeling feverish once more - something that was becoming all too common. The morning fever took longer to dissipate, but he didn't let it show.

"Is it pink?" Blossom guessed at the new color of their room as she added the last patch of primer in broad, controlled strokes.

"Is it green? Please make it green!" Buttercup took her shot while she was practically splashing primer into a wide area on the wall.

"Is it blue?" Bubbles added timidly as she made small little brushstrokes on the wall, as if she was drawing.

The professor observed them as they made the final touches, nodding with approval. Even if the end result wasn't perfect, it would still be the Girls' room, done without complaint, done by their own hands. It was a victory regardless. "It'll be a surprise. How about we let the primer dry? It's tea time, and I have just the thing…"

The City of Townsville. Townsville Central Park.

4 DEC 1988. 1531.

Although it was snowing, there were still people in the park, building snowmen, throwing snowballs at each other and walking in the winter landscape. The cold scenery was oddly beautiful. Surprisingly, there was an ice cream man still operating, and a row of adults and children alike were lining up for their edible ice.

"Any preferences for the ice cream?" Professor Utonium asked the Girls.

"What's ice-cream?" Blossom, always the curious one, asked.

"It's a dessert, very sweet. I just thought you three deserved it," he said, not revealing the real reason why he was treating them to a late afternoon of ice cream.

"Is there spaghetti ice cream? I like spaghetti," Bubbles tried.

"Urm… No. How about I get you Girls what I think you like, and then we'll see?" Professor Utonium suggested. "In the meantime, why don't you three play with the snow nearby? Don't wander off now."

"Yes, daddy," Blossom said obediently.

"Haha, yeah! Now to make an explosion!" Buttercup exclaimed, which had the professor worried. He gestured for the girls to come closer.

"Remember the rules, Girls?" he whispered to them his worries.

"Yes. No super-strength…" Blossom recited the rule.

"And no super-speed?" Bubbles followed

"Yes, dear. And don't wander off, please. Especially you, Buttercup," the professor singled the green-jacketed girl out.

"Yeah, yeah…" Buttercup said with arms crossed. The professor was as straight-faced as he could be when Buttercup acted the way she did. The tougher of the three had been showing early signs of defiance. He'd have to keep a close eye on her.

In the end, the professor returned to them with three ice cream cones on a platform: green apple, red strawberry and blueberry. The Girls had been building a giant snowball-thing, and it was about their height by the time he came along. He couldn't decide if they were using their powers or not.

"Girls! Ice cream's ready!" The professor called. The Girls ran over to him, perhaps a little too fast for his liking. He looked around, looking like he had something to hide, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he thought that no one's watching. Well, except for their 'neighbors' from the van, who had followed them for their 'protection'. Two of them were sitting on a wooden bench, a man and a woman, pretending to be lovers - though they would make a rather cold and distant pair. Two of them were 'playing' with the snow. The rest were 'talking', but their eyes were always shifting to their general direction.

Naturally, the Girls picked the ice creams based on their favorite colors. Buttercup immediately plunged her teeth into her scoop of ice cream, and regretted it. "Dad! It's so cold!

Bubbles did the same thing, only more conservatively, but felt the chill through her teeth all the same. "Yeah, daddy - how do ice creams work?" she asked in broken English.

Behind them, however, Blossom had no problem chewing her ice cream. To her, it wasn't too off-putting to sink her teeth into it.

"Well… You have to lick it, like this!" the professor thus demonstrated the art of eating ice creams to them. They followed suit. By the time Blossom came around to it, however, she had already bitten off half her ice cream.

They had a snowball fight after that. Blossom and Buttercup versus Professor Utonium and Bubbles. Their laughter, for a time, intermingled with that of the other park goers. The Girls were, at first, terrible with their aim, having never thrown things beyond an arm's length before. Without knowing it, the professor was accidentally training them to throw objects, and they were learning fast.

"Quick, Bubbles!" the professor instructed Bubbles as they hid behind their snowy bulwark. "This is how you make a good snowball-" the professor scooped up some snow from the ground and rolled it into a spherical shape. Bubbles did the same, though she was getting carried away, and she had scooped up twice the required snow, and made a strange, ovular mess. "You'll get used to it."

Together, they got out of cover and launched their snow projectiles at Blossom and Buttercup, who didn't understand the concept of taking cover, but after Blossom was hit in the chest, they soon understood. They quickly dived for cover behind a half-buried log. Thus, the professor had accidentally gave them an introductory course in surviving a firefight, and the Girls learned fast, and without knowing it.

"Do you know how to win?" Buttercup asked Blossom as she scooped another lump of snow out of the ground.

"Winning? I'm just having fun!" Blossom cried with joy. "But how about lots of snowballs?"

"Haha, good idea!" Buttercup said with clear mischief in her voice. She began working, hyper-concentrated, excavating her material at a rapid, blurry pace. She was like an ice cream machine, and she had manufactured a dozen snowballs within a fraction of a minute.

Blossom jumped up to shoot a snowball, missing by a mile, and she dropped back into cover when the professor's superior marksmanship had put a snowball close to where her right arm was.

"This is fun!" Bubbles shouted gleefully as she continued heaving her giant snowballs at her sisters - some of them would disintegrate in mid-air, shooting small pellets of crushed snow at the other Girls, while some actually made it all the way to their target, exploding on contact - though Bubbles, too, couldn't hit the broadside of a barn. She and the professor continued suppressing Blossom and Buttercup with their remaining ammunition, which was when Buttercup snapped up and began unloading her many snowballs at them, two at a time, while she was shouting a war cry. She had prioritized quantity over quality, instinctively knowing that she had the aim of a newborn baby. Some flew nowhere near her targets, but a few did manage to land on the professor's bulwark. Bubbles was hit in the dome, and she fell backwards on her bum. The professor looked worriedly at her, but surprisingly, she wasn't crying, and was instead laughing uncontrollably with joy. The professor smiled. It was another one of those moments to remember, to punctuate the bad times.

This went on for a long time, and by the end of it, snowballs were screaming very closely to their targets, though the professor had thus far avoided getting hit. Bubbles, under his guidance, was never hit again, while Blossom and Buttercup were whiter than they normally were by the end, their hair speckled in icy dust. They had to shake off the frost to retain their colors.

"Okay, it's time to go!" the professor announced the truce from behind his 'fort'. "Come on, Bubbles. It's time to defrost and go back to putting colors in your room."

Together, the Girls and the Professor met in the centre of their battlefield. "Are you two alright? I guess I should have gone easier on the both of you, huh?" The professor said proudly. Buttercup had other ideas. Her hands were folded behind her back, but it wasn't good manners she was portraying. She had a snowball in hand.

Without warning, she winded up her throwing arm and launched her last snowball point-blank at Professor Utonium, right in the face.

The force of the blow had thrown the professor off his feet. For a moment, there was intense pain, then numbness as he fell to the floor, unmoving. He felt his vision blur, then nothing.

The Organization security officers watching them had taken notice of this. Upon realizing what had happened, their leader, a white man with graying hair and aviator sunglasses, gestured for the security officers to spread out and surround Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup in a semi-circular pattern - far and in the background. Wordlessly, the security officers who were feigning having fun obeyed and began moving into position. "Utonium appears to be down. Chance of B-47 through to 49 going rogue. Observe and report," the leader whispered into the mic he had buried inside his jacket.

"Hah! Take that, daddy!" Buttercup shouted in triumph as her sisters laughed. She looked at the professor, expecting him to get up and laugh with them. But the professor remained still. "Daddy?" Happiness turned to confusion, then to horror. "Dad!"

Buttercup ran up to the unmoving professor and turned him over, shaking him while she was doing so. His eyes were closed.

"Why did you do that, Buttercup!?" Blossom scolded. "You knew that daddy wasn't as strong as us!"

Bubbles had already started crying, and her tears were turning to ice right as they sprouted from her eyes.

"But- Bu- Hu- I- Te-" Buttercup babbled. Then she gave a shout and turned on Blossom. "You were laughing too, weren't you! You liked that as much as me! You would have done the same thing!"

"Nah-ah! I didn't do what you did! You threw the snowball, not me!" Blossom defended herself. Bubbles knelt beside the professor, trying to shake him awake, at the same time crying shards of ice down on him.

"Daddy, wake up!" Bubbles cried.

"You laughed! So why don't you shut up!" Buttercup shouted.

"No, you did it! You shut up!" Blossom countered.

The security officers were in place. "Sitrep? Over." one of them whispered.

"Utonium status unknown. Can't see breathing," another said.

"What are the subjects doing?" yet another asked.

"Fighting, apparently. One of them appears upset," yet another observed.

"Should we engage?" the first one asked.

"No, stand-by and observe," the leader ordered, and put both his hands in his jacket. He appeared to just be warming himself up, but he was actually reaching for his weapon. He had a saw-off shotgun tucked away in there.

"Look at how sad you made Bubbles!" Blossom scolded again.

"She's ALWAYS sad! So shut up!" Buttercup defended.

"No, you shut up!" Blossom repeated.

"Shut up!" Buttercup cried.

"You shut up!" Blossom countered again, until…

"They appear to be having a 'mature' discussion on the matter," one of the plain-clothes security officer said sarcastically.

"Makes me wonder if they planned this - Did they just assassinate Agent Utonium?" another security officer speculated. "If so, why are they assigning blame on each other?"

"Do we engage?" a particularly trigger-happy security guard asked again. He had put a hand in his coat, reaching for his pistol. "We don't have much time before they-"

"I said stand by!" the leader ordered again.

"Girls…" the professor said weakly. Clutching his head, he sat up - he could barely do it. His vision was still a blur.

"Dad!" Blossom and Buttercup shouted in unison before coming up to his side. Buttercup promptly buried her face in the professor's chest, putting her arm around him possessively.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" Buttercup apologized beyond profusely. "I didn't mean it! I thought- I didn't mean it! I'm sorry!" The professor hugged her back. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's fine. I'm okay, I'm okay," the professor's voice was a whisper, a dead give-away of a lie. He was anything but. He could still feel his skull ringing and he was seeing twice the number of Girls. His head felt like Bubbles' failed giant snowballs, disintegrating in mid-air. He clutched his head. It was the headache of the century. "Ow…" At this point, the only thing he could be glad about was the fact that he had an ample supply of ice to put on his head.

"False alarm, people," the leader said. "Now let's scatter before we attract any attention." But it was too late. The professor had already seen them. To him, it was a close call, and the love between him and the Girls had averted a disaster. Had there been no forgiveness, the security officers might have over-reacted and put an end to their family.

"Let's just go back home and paint the walls," Professor Utonium said weakly. He tried to get up, but slipped on the ice. "Do daddy a favor and help me up?" All three of them took him by the hands. With difficulty, he got to his feet. Putting his arms on Buttercup and Bubbles' shoulders, they worked their way back to the car.

The professor drove the car slowly, afraid that his slow reaction time from the double-vision, headache and still-blurry sight would result in another accident. As he piloted the family car, Bubbles sat beside him and applied Buttercup's glove on his forehead, which was full of snow. "Thanks, Bubbles," he said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Rift

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

4 DEC 1988. 1704.

Despite the massive headache Professor Utonium couldn't shake off, not even with Bubbles' glove ice pack, he wasted no time in sitting the Girls down for a talk. He had heard them arguing while he was coming out of his brief black-out. On the way home, Blossom and Buttercup had sat as far away from each other as possible, on opposite sides of the backseat.

Looking at the pile of furniture that was yet to be arranged, he couldn't bear the thought of having to spend the rest of the day painting and furnishing their room with two of his Girls treating each other like enemies.

Even after sitting them down, Blossom and Buttercup sat as far away from each other as possible, occupying either poles of a sofa facing the professor, with Bubbles in the middle. Before talking, the professor clutched his head, still feeling the super-dense snowball from Buttercup. His left eye had become black and blue at some point, as the internal bleeding finally stopped and the blood within congealed.

"Now that we're together as one family in The House, I want the three of you to talk. Please," the professor started awkwardly, unsure of how to begin the conversation. Blossom and Buttercup remained silent.

"I wish we could just love and forgive each other…" Bubbles contributed, after no one else would.

"You hear that, Blossom, Buttercup? Bubbles had little to do with the accident, but she was willing to speak," the professor added.

"Buttercup hurt you! There's nothing to talk about!" Blossom shouted, infuriated.

"It was an accident! I said I was sorry!" Buttercup retorted.

"Now, the two of you stop right there!" the professor found himself raising his voice, if only to get them to listen. It'd done the job, startling the Girls, even the innocent one. "I know you two are mad at each other, but that's when you need to listen to the other. Blossom, Buttercup said that it was an accident, and I believe her. So what's there to be mad about?"

"But… She threw the snowball so hard…" Blossom tried her best to explain, and the professor thought he understood. He turned to Buttercup, willing her to explain it all, while clutching his head again.

"I was excited; we've had so much fun. Daddy, please believe me; I don't know what came over me; I thought it would be more fun, what I did," Buttercup tried even harder to explain, using the few hundred words she had. The professor thought her effort to be admirable, considering that they weren't even 2 weeks old yet.

"You were overexcited, Buttercup. People tend to forget themselves when that happens," Professor Utonium explained to Buttercup, then turned to Blossom. "Blossom. Ever since you were born, I've noticed that you are the smart one. The reasonable one I'm asking you to be yourself and give your sister a chance, as I have."

'I do want to be like daddy…' Blossom thought. 'And he did teach us to forgive and forget.'

"Oh okay…" Blossom finally agreed, her voice dejected, quite the opposite of what the professor was hoping for.

"And what about you, Buttercup?" the professor turned to the green-eyed girl.

"What about me?" she asked, having found no reason to say anything further before.

"Don't you love your sister? Don't you forgive her?" the professor half-quizzed. In truth, he was still trying to understand fully the relationship between Blossom and Buttercup. Despite rarely being away from them both, he knew that there was enough of a blind spot for him to miss things out; the most recent being him falling unconscious after getting hit by Buttercup's ice cannonball.

"But she was being bossy and- and- She was mean- and she's always telling me what to do-" Buttercup struggled to put thoughts into words. Professor Utonium sighed, and came over to Buttercup. Picking her up, he sat down in between Bubbles and Blossom, putting her on his lap.

"She only wants the best for you. Right, Blossom?" the professor said.

"I- I guess. I just want things to go back to when no one was hurt. I want the best for you, Daddy," Blossom explained.

"See?" the professor said with a smile, glad that Blossom was able to affirm his position. From his own experiences, and current time with the Girls, he knew that kids were unpredictable - that Blossom knew exactly what was right, and what to say, was a God send.

Buttercup had felt almost nothing for her siblings at all. Sure, they were 'born' together, and they had been playmates since day one, but they had also been obstacles, competition. She couldn't forget how the professor had exhausted all the good names, giving her 'Buttercup' - had one of them not existed, she would have either been Blossom or Bubbles. In retrospect, after learning the language, she knew the difference. Her name had meant nothing in the onset. And now she couldn't let go of the fact that Blossom seemed to be closer to daddy now, and not her.

But what she did felt was an unbreakable connection with who she called 'Daddy', and if getting along with Blossom and Bubbles meant getting closer to him, then she knew that she would have to yield. Deep down, she hated losing, but she reasoned with herself that the game wasn't over yet.

When Buttercup took too long to think about things, Professor Utonium continued his lecture: "We're a family, Girls. I guess I've been trying to tell you this, but… The world out there-" It was his turn to struggle with putting thoughts into words. He had so much to consider: the Girls' mental simplicity and development, the complexity of the world and the secrets of the Organization he worked for. "Not everyone cares about you. People will even go on to dislike or hate you, sometimes for no reason." The professor said this knowing very well who he was talking about. "Friends will leave you and stop being friends. But a family will always be a family. Buttercup, Blossom and Bubbles will never stop being your sisters, and I will always be your father."

"Okay…" Buttercup relented once more, then turning to Blossom, said: "Maybe we could play house together later?" Buttercup had said this with less enthusiasm than usual, but Blossom and Bubbles were none the wiser, thinking that words could not lie. All the professor could hope for was that the cracks between the three Girls would heal in time.

"Now let's paint the room together, like a good family," Professor Utonium announced, before putting Buttercup down and heading up the stairs, all the while doing his best to hide the fact that his head was still pounding, and his vision was still a blur. 'Maybe a rest stop in the washroom first,' he thought. 'Wiggums had better put some good painkillers in there.'

It didn't take long for Buttercup to get mad once more, though she kept it all in this time, with much difficulty. When the professor unveiled the color of the paint they were using, Buttercup's face was basically twitching, and it did not look good on her youthful and beautiful face. The professor actually feared that she had somehow contracted a neurological disease from the way she was conceived.

"Are you okay, Buttercup?" Professor Utonium asked as he was uncapping the first tin full of paint.

"I'm… Fine," Buttercup lied with difficulty. It didn't come naturally to her, and that she could do it with a smile on her face, even if a pained one, was considered exceptional in a sub-2-weeks-old. "I just like the color so much," she continued lying.

The color that the professor chosen was pink. Blossom's favorite. 'Of course it had to be Blossom's favorite,' Buttercup thought enviously. Off to the side, Bubbles did not seem to mind pink, even if it wasn't her favorite. In truth, Bubbles liked many colors. She loved the general idea of colors in the world. Buttercup did not know the word then, but she thought Bubbles to be stupid.

"Of course you do, Buttercup!" Blossom said, cheerfully. "Pink is the best color in the world!"

"Yeah… Totally," Buttercup agreed insincerely, putting her all in the fake smile she was putting on. 'Of course Blossom is happy. It's her favorite color!' she thought hatefully even as she faced her own sister.

"Now isn't this lovely - the two of you making up!" the professor added, unaware that Buttercup was harboring more and more resentment.

At the end of the day, the Girls' room had become unusable as the first coat of paint was completed only hours into the evening. The Girls would have to sleep in with the professor in his room, something that they found to be exciting and delightful. It was technically their first sleepover, and the professor had even introduced them to the concept, talking about how he had done the same thing with his friends long ago, except that he actually went all the way to another house miles away to be with his friends.

"Wow Dad, you have such a huge bed! It's like it's made for the four of us!" Bubbles said excitedly on encountering the professor's bed. The Girls padded into his room, examining everything. Professor Utonium didn't mind, at least until Bubbles got to the pistol he had so carelessly tossed onto his nightstand. The professor practically sprinted over to her and snatched the gun away from her hands in full view of the other two Girls.

"I'm sorry I touched your toy," Bubbles apologized innocently, looking like she was about to cry again.

"Bubbles, hey…" the professor cooed at the blue-eyed girl as he pressed himself up close to her. "I was just concerned, that's all. This thing is not a toy. It's dangerous."

"Then why was it next to your bed, Daddy?" Blossom asked. 'Oh no, not again,' the professor thought. He didn't want the Girls to lose any of their innocence from the get-go. Not when they were so young.

"No reason. It was just there," the professor said. At least this time, he didn't have to lie. Looking around for a place to chuck it in, he decided on the top of the wardrobe and left it there.

"It looks cool," Buttercup added. "Why is it dangerous?"

"It could hurt you," the professor said.

"How?" Buttercup pursued.

"I'll tell you about it next time," Professor Utonium said, hoping at the same time that the 'next time' would be years away. "For now, bed."

"Can I sleep next to you?" Blossom pleaded, and she had beaten Buttercup and Bubbles to it, much to the former's chagrin, who went straight to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Sure," the professor agreed.

"Can I sleep next to you too?" Bubbles asked as well.

"No, unless you want to sleep on the floor," the professor joked and everyone in the room laughed. Everyone except for the only person absent - Buttercup. At the very least, she didn't have to sleep next to Blossom, for that night, Bubbles had placed herself between them.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: New Crime

5 DEC 1988. 1003.

The City of Townsville. It is all in the name. A topsy turvy world where up means down and down means up. I have been here all my life, rarely travelled unless you count time travelling the conventional way, half a century into the future from just before the world's second greatest slaughter began to after the world's culture got slaughtered. I had seen how clean it used to be, when the world was covered in so much blood and guts that cleaners today are still working on it. Oh, the irony. And I'd seen how dirty it could be, how dirty it is now. Let's just say this old dame of a city has seen better days.

Looking outside the window of my office in Townsville Police Department, I can hardly see the muck and scum. I know better. I know it all too well. I see it even more often than I see my wife - and I'm counting the days before the divorce. I see it in my sleep, and I see it everyday on the job. Thirty years of being in the blues can do that to you. I was never the tourist, unless you count the City. I have seen every inch of this lady, and I know her better than I know my ex-wife. I have seen the business districts, downtown. I have seen the suburbs. I have seen the dingy shithole slums and their alleyways, the ghettos.

But just when I thought things can't get any worse, that we'd hit the Marianas Trench of crime and vice, the City just have to prove me wrong. It had always proven me wrong. And when it'd ran out of the boring and mundane ol' blood and bullets and cocaine and dirty money, it'll bring out the topsy turvy.

I still remember the day the file on the 'Amoeba Boys' hit my desk. "This one's yours, Detective Mullens. It makes no bloody sense, and I got no one else in this department who cares," the Police Chief, a black man I had to try very hard to respect for the job he's pulling, had said carelessly. Story of my life.

The Amoeba Boys. Bossman, Junior and Skinny Slim, as they are known by. They'd outgrown their names, but they've stuck to them like flies on rotten haunch. Immigration has it that they are out-of-towners, not just from the City of Townsville, but the Pokey Oaks county. Their records are sketchy, but what isn't these days? That isn't what concerned me. Three stooges of Italian descent, they started out exactly the way any bottom-feeders start out. They did the small gigs: messaging, running, petty stealing or otherwise. Then they worked their way up the food chain, eating away at their own kind, eating the rear end of the bosses upstairs.

The fact that they had eaten their way to the top of a local gang within a couple years does not concern me either. It's all about how they do it. They like to get their hands dirty, something odd for three crooks looking to get into the Godfather routine. And when they get their hands dirty… That's when it becomes… Sketchy.

In their first murder crime scene, they'd cleaned out members of a rival gang in a hotel lobby. It was a regular job, something their boss ordered every Sunday with an extra topping of sacrilege. I would even call it sloppy, if I trust my fellow detectives enough (I don't). Collateral damage, lots of missed shots, non-core shots, a slow and delayed ticket to hell for their targets. But even this does not leave me concerned.

It was the bullets that hit them. Those leads either end up in the wall behind them, or somehow fell in beautiful, undamaged bits all around them. There was no blood, and only tiny bits of fabric caught in the heat of battle. Sloppy as the Amoeba Boys were, those they hit never stood a chance.

It became their MO. They riddle their marks with lead, and shrug off lead like raindrops. None of the detectives before me had figured out how they did it.

By the time their file landed on my desk, they're at war with another gang, and they have chopped off the head of the Snakes - their competitor in drugs, women and illegal firearms. Now… Now they're my problem.

And it isn't as simple as it sounds, like how it was back when they would get their hands dirty. Now, I'll have to visit the lair of the beast, ply the web of crime, coercing the small fries to get at the Amoeba Boys, starting with the hitman they hired to snuff out the Snake head.

And I plan to do more than that. I may be a tired old man just a few years away from retirement, but beneath that scum, beneath all that dirt I see as a detective everyday, I still dream of a Townsville that was, and will be. Divorced I may be, but I love my daughter, and she had taken after her dad and joined the TPD. We are so alike that she hates me for it, even before I filed my way to being a bachelor again. I want a Townsville when her risk of getting gunned down like a bitch in the streets is next to nil. And she's getting it.

I'm bringing the Amoeba Boys down. I'll discover their secret to an immortal life, and I'm going to pin every single crime they have committed onto their bullet-resistant bodies if that's the last thing I do.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: What Are Little Girls Made Of?

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

5 DEC 1988. 0621.

Daddy…

Shhh… Bloome, don't speak- Just- Just- Breathe-

Daddy, it hurts…

The pain will pass, honey, just..

Where is mommy?

Mommy? She's-

The professor woke up long before the sun did, his head still feeling like an over-pumped basketball. Looking around at the Girls, he saw that they were still sleeping soundly. Being young, they had no trouble sleeping even beyond eight, or even nine hours. Unlike him. He got out of bed silently, without ruffling the blankets too much, gently removing Blossom's hands from his arm. He didn't want to wake the Girls. Not in the state he was in. Looking at himself in the mirror, he saw that he was a mess - his left eye was still swollen and purple. He looked pale, like a ghost.

He went out of the room straight. Showering or even changing might wake the Girls up. Going down to the living room, he made a beeline for his pipe, and lit it up with shivering hands. Looking out the window, at the wintry neighborhood beyond, he couldn't decide if he had been inadequate as a father or too good as a parent. Either way, there were consequences. Either way, the Girls would suffer for his sins.

The scenery outside was different. The house on the opposite side of the road seemed less occupied than before. Somehow. The unmarked van that had been stalking them for the past two weeks wasn't the only ominous vehicle out there anymore. Accompanying it was what looked like a police bus, except without the reassuring badge and motto, and it was smaller. It had shaded windows, of course.

He had read the notes that the Chief of Security had so kindly sent him. Increased security, though not entirely to the Girls' benefit, he knew that - no matter what his security officers claimed. As if eight shady men with pistols and shotguns who would not hesitate to kill the little girls at a moment's notice wasn't enough, Blackwater had to add evil SWAT officers on top of that. He could only be amazed at how morally blind the Organization's committee was, that they would claim to do good for the U.S. (and the world, apparently), when they had been acting like psychos behind the back of three harmless little girls.

'But are they truly harmless?' a dissenting voice in Professor Utonium said. He shut the thought out immediately. They're his perfect little girls, and nothing would ever change his mind on that.

With the time still early, he went down to the lab to eke out whatever little research he could do. Even though the Organization had been expanding and doing a hundred times better financially (literally) than it used to be, owing to the same Girls they had been oppressing, they were falling behind when it came to the sciences. His voluntary demotion had something to do with that. From what he had heard from his friends at HQ, they had yet to find a real replacement for Head of Research, and his deputy, who had been filling in for him, was not a hands-on man. Without Professor Utonium's input, research on Chemical X had practically ground to a halt.

The professor surveyed his lab. It was packed with even more equipment. More tests were going to be done today, and some actual research, if he could manage it. Walking down the stairs to the lab, he felt his temples spike with pain. It was quite sudden that he nearly lost his balance. So, ambling to the first aid kit, he popped a couple of aspirins before going back to work.

But it had been almost a couple of weeks since he had participated in any active research. He had to go back to the basics again. Picking up a sample of crude Chemical X, he placed it under the gigantic electron microscope and viewed it in the visor.

Right from the beginning, the code-named and mysterious Chemicals A to X, as well as their source, had exhibited some incredibly strange properties, properties that couldn't be adequately explained by conventional science. For one thing, they exist naturally as a liquid, but had a freezing point so low that it could only be theoretically far below absolute zero. Its freezing point could only be reached by negative temperature. As for its boiling point… Even the sun would fail to boil Chemicals A through to X. This meant that Chemical X had bonds between its molecule so incredibly powerful that power plants' worth of energy could easily fit within a tiny amount. It also meant that it was incredibly tricky to form chemical reactions with it.

Looking at the Chemical X molecules, which were gigantic, under the electron microscope, he observed its behavior - and it was behaving as expected. Unpredictably. Even the laws of physics held no sway with Chemical X, seemingly. They would wiggle and move under their own power in three-dimensional space. The reason for this was currently unknown. Professor Utonium had still been etching away at the theory that Chemical X was converting energy from one form to another by some unknown phenomenon when the Girls were born, pulling him away from his research.

Switching on a recording device on the electron microscope, he let it make a video of Chemical X movements while he observed the wonder that was one of the Girls' 'ingredients'. He was still unable to make the connection between Chemical X's properties and the Girls' super-abilities.

He ran the numbers through his aching head. He was barely be able to. Buttercup's ice asteroid was still making an impact. 'First there's Chemical X', he thought, 'then the Chemical X cocktail'. Yes, the stabilizing agents, code-named 'Sugar', 'Spice' and 'Everything-Nice', had something to do with it. They were meant to serve as the middle-men between Chemical X and other other, more conventional, molecules, as well as taming the strange behavior of the Chemical X molecules.

Then there was the fact that he had planned to put even more ingredients in. He hadn't redone his calculations ever since the accident that made the Girls. He had to return to square one. Only, the pain in his head was obstructing his thought process, and he couldn't even begin to recite his own formulas, much less make changes to them. Frustrated, he swept his papers and books from the table. "Damn it!" he shouted. It wasn't just frustration. He felt that he had lost himself, and then there were the Girls - a failure to understand how they had come to be could be dangerous. Somewhere down the road, there could be some unknown consequence waiting for them as a result of Chemical X. For all he knew, they could be having an undetectable cancer at present, or the very Chemical X in their body could just become unstable enough to blow them up. Or they could simply just die in their sleep from exposure. With the way Chemical X defies all conventions, he simply didn't know.

Wheeling himself over to his computer, he booted it up, hoping for nothing to come up from the internetwork. For the first time in a long time, his mind was empty as he waited for his Pre-Market Windows 3.0 operating system to load. When it did, he went to his e-mail, only to be disappointed:

From: orgchief

To: .utonium

Date/Time Received: 4 DEC 1988, 2354

Title: General Meeting W2

Field Researcher Agent Utonium,

There will be a general meeting the day after tomorrow (6 DEC 1988) at Organization Outpost Charlie-01. Don't bother driving there. We will send a security vehicle to pick you and Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 up at 1700. Make sure you tell your petri dish kids that this is just part of your science work. Remember the protocols. Do not reveal the Organization to them, at least not yet.

Make sure you file your Week 2 report on 5 DEC 1988 so we all have something to look at. I expect interesting news tomorrow and the day after. Lots of interesting things are going to happening from here onwards. I've made sure of it.

Stay loyal and productive,

Agent Cliff

Organization Chief

The Organization: Guarding liberty and freedom no matter the cost.

The professor backed away from his computer, giving out a sigh after rubbing his head. In a way, he knew that it was coming. That was why he had prepared to rush through a few tests with the Girls today.

5 DEC 1988. 1250.

It was almost time for the day's experiments. The morning was spent on learning, playing and painting the Girl's room, but it was more than that. It was a way to psyche the Girls up, but it was just as much a necessity for him. They spent the noon on television after a lunch of chicken breast, corn and mashed potatoes - the Girls' first time, and they relished it. The professor had sensed that Bubbles would not take well to knowing that the meat was from an actual animal, so he didn't explain more than he should what meat was.

The kiddy channel was on, and the Girls were simply taken in by it - to them, the TV was a magical box that could show them visions of a dream. This time, it was broadcasting nursery rhymes.

"What are little girls made of? What are little girls made of?" the TV sung as a cartoon girl pranced across the screen. "Sugar and spice and everything nice. That's what little girls are made of!"

"Dad, is it really true that we're made of sugar?" Bubbles asked.

"And spice?" Buttercup participated.

"And everything nice?" Blossom added.

It was a surprisingly hard question to answer for Professor Utonium, because of what he knew. "Why yes, of course," he concurred with a convincing smile. "And that is why the three of you are such sweet little girls."

The moment Bubbles heard the professor's praise, she beamed widely at him, then giggled and returned to the television. Blossom laughed while Buttercup followed along… With difficulty. She never wanted to be the follower, just that she couldn't find the words or courage to tell the professor that.

The door bell rang after that.

"What are little boys made of? What are little boys made of?" the television sung some more, oblivious to the changing situation. A boy flew across the screen on a swing. "Snips and snails and puppy-dogs' tail! That's what little boys are made of!"

"How are little boys like, daddy?" Bubbles asked again, but Professor Utonium was already at the door. 'Who could be visiting at this time?' the professor thought to himself, but the question felt incomplete. 'Who would want to visit me at all?'

The door bell rang again. "Coming, I'm coming!" the professor shouted through the door. Whoever it was on the other side was impatient, a clear indication of Organization affiliation.

"Dad, how are little boys like?" Bubbles repeated herself, then turned to see why the professor hadn't answered her. The Girls had only heard the door bell once before - when the movers came for Wiggum's undesirable furniture - and it took them some time to put two and two together.

"Who's that, daddy?" Blossom asked as she got away from the television. Buttercup followed, running up to who she called her father. They, too, had no idea who was visiting; but their problem was distinct in that they had no concept of 'visitors'.

The professor opened the door… To reveal a somewhat thin figure standing in the doorway. It was Agent Wiggums, in his office wear with winter gear. He had presents wrapped in paper of various colors which did not necessarily matched that of the Girls. He was a stranger to Buttercup. As the Girls had rarely seen human beings other than themselves, seeing Wiggums before her was intimidating.

"Daddy? Who is this?" Buttercup mewled. Wiggums looked down on her with unexpectedly kind eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Cloaks and Daggers

The City of Townsville Suburbs. The House.

5 DEC 1988. 1255.

"Wiggums. What are you doing here?" the professor flat out interrogated the man standing at their doorstep.

"I was just passing through, and I thought I should just drop by and visit," Wiggums explained, though Professor Utonium wasn't convinced. Those presents he was holding didn't magically appear when the Chief of Logistics decided to pop down to their house on a whim. "Aren't you going to let me in? It's cold outside."

The professor stepped aside, and sensing Buttercup hugging his leg, he reached down and caressed her head reassuringly.

"Hi, little one," Wiggums acknowledged her, but the face Buttercup was giving him was anything but welcoming. "No need to be afraid of me, kid."

The professor led Wiggums to the centre of the living room, where Blossom and Bubbles were beaming and staring at Wiggums with anticipation. They did like the looks of those presents.

"Girls, this is my… Friend, Wiggums," the professor introduced his colleague to them, though it was difficult to say the word 'friend', and he thought he might have bungled it up. But the Girls were still naive at this stage, except perhaps Buttercup, and they didn't pick up on the clue. "Sit." Wiggums plopped himself down on a single-seater and set down his presents on the coffee table. The professor reached for the remote control and switched off the television. "Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup… Can the three of you go to my room, please? The adults need to have a conversation, privately."

Even the Girls could feel the tension building in the living room. Professor Utonium had become stern and unyielding all of a sudden. It was a side of him that the Girls weren't exposed to at all; even Buttercup hadn't truly seen how severe he could be. The professor didn't want to leave the Girls alone for too long, but this time, he had no choice. "And Girls, bring some toys with you so you won't feel bored."

The Girls complied. Blossom brought with her a drawing block and some colour pencils, Buttercup took a few model cars and Bubbles grabbed her new favorite by the tentacle: Octi - an octopus soft toy the professor had given her during their belated birthday celebration. Together, they went up the stairs, and soon disappeared from view. The professor had waited and watched them to make sure they were really out of earshot.

"What are you really up to, Wiggums?" Professor Utonium interrogated his colleague further.

Meanwhile, in Professor Utonium's room, Blossom was drawing on the professor's bedroom desk and Bubbles was attending to Octi in bed. Buttercup, however, did not quite have fun on her mind. Instead of playing with her model cars, she was at the door. More specifically, she had her ear on the door. It was a little something she learned while playing with the cabinet door in their room with her sisters, a week ago. She thought she could hear her daddy and Wiggums speaking.

"Buttercup, what are you doing?" Bubbles asked. She thought she found Buttercup's behavior odd.

"Shut up, Bubbles," Buttercup said without thought, too focused on her self-appointed task to worry about such a petty thing as manners. Upset, Bubbles returned to tucking Octi in, which was fast becoming her emotional crutch. Blossom turned to Buttercup and stared at the back of her head angrily. But knowing that there was nothing to be done, she returned to her drawing.

'-are you really up to, Wiggums?' Buttercup thought she could hear; it was as if her hearing range had increased when she willed it to. Even at this age, she knew that it was supposed to be an impossible feat, but she didn't care. The professor had always said that they were special little girls, so the green-eyed girl thought that her ears were special, too; more perceptive than her daddy could ever manage - who, for some reason, could not hear what was next to him sometimes.

"It's hard for me to say this, but…" Wiggums said, but could not finish his sentence. He played with his fingers instead, looking a little like a kid. Wiggums wasn't a big man; he was wiry and short, and had compensated poorly for this with his hair, which he kept long. It added to the look of youthful innocence about him. "I'm sorry for what I said on the phone like a week ago."

"Uh-huh," the professor acknowledged, unimpressed. Wrong his Girls in any way, and he would be unlikely to forgive - that was how it was, and he had adapted in this fashion in the face of the Organization's antics such that even the professor himself was unaware of his crusader-like attitude in protecting the Girls. "Anything else?"

"Really, I am, dude. I tried to retract what I said - that we're not friends anymore, but-" WIggums continued, his eyes unable to meet Professor Utonium's. "Anyway, you're right. The subjects - I mean your kids - I've been thinking a lot about my attitude towards them, like how the others treat them. I had sleepless nights, man, swear."

"Your point?" the professor asked dismissively.

"I said I was sorry, and I'm sorry for calling the kids subjects and lab experiments, Upton," Wiggums confessed. "And I'm sorry I brought those furniture and toys in without sparing a thought. I feel awful about it."

"Took you long enough, did it?" the professor said, dispassionate as always in this state.

"Anyway, I just want you to know that if you need someone on the committee to speak for you, I'm your man," Wiggums offered. "You need all the help you can get. I won't lie to you, prof. You've got enemies there, and with the committee doubling in size, they're only going to multiply. You're not the Head of Research now, and without that power you had, I don't think you can hold them at bay for long."

"Oh, and a peace offering - just to show that I'm sincere," Wiggums waved a hand at the presents he brought.

"What's inside those boxes?" the professor interrogated.

"The kind of stuff that little girls should have. I hope I didn't screw up this time. The colors are a little off - I didn't know your kids have favorites so quickly. But I don't think colors would matter with the chocolate." Wiggums offered, hoping that his efforts would pay off. At this point, he looked a little like a dog looking to please his master - and the professor wasn't surprised. They had been friends for as long as they were both in the Organization, and Wiggums had few others.

The professor sighed and clutched his head. The headache was still there. He was never good at this 'grudge' and 'hatred' kind of thing. He knew he couldn't keep it up forever, not when his friendship with the Chief of Logistics had been sincere for so many years. It was at this point that Wiggums noticed how much his friend had changed physically. And it wasn't just the mysterious black eye he had.

"You don't look so good, Thomas. What's happening to you? You look like you've lost weight, and your face…" He tried to express his concern, but the professor brushed him off.

"Fine. I'll consider your offer," he said tersely. Wiggums' eyes lit up the moment he heard it. "Now, I've got to conduct a few tests with the Girls. I'm… Sorry you can't stay longer than this. You can always… come next time."

"No, it's fine. You do your thing and I'll do mine. Tell me whatever you need and I'm your man," Wiggums said before standing up. The professor escorted him to the door.

"Sure, sure. Have a safe trip," the professor bade him goodbye once he opened the door, though he wasn't entirely sincere. He was still deciding on that.

"One last thing, prof. You should be prepared for the next meeting. It's… Well, it's not going to be easy," Wiggums said before leaving.

"Tell me something I don't know," the professor said to himself, out of earshot. After closing the door, he returned to the coffee table, and opened the gift boxes himself. There were four. The cylindrical, royal blue one had a clown doll inside. The professor didn't think much of it. Then he opened a squarish, yellowish one. The professor thought the color scheme made his headache worse. Inside, there was a doll house with equally tiny furniture and figures within. He thought it seemed typical. In the third box, a purple, oblong box with red ribbons, was a large Bo Peep doll. 'At least it isn't completely white in color and devoid of features,' the professor thought.

Then there was the red, heart-shaped box. The professor opened it to find the chocolate that Wiggums had talked about earlier. He picked up a sample and sniffed it. Nothing funny inside, at least as far as his nose could tell him. But in the end, he couldn't help but to suspect the chocolate, thinking up a hundred possible malicious intents that the chocolate could serve. Besides, he thought that the Girls weren't ready for chocolate yet - the caffeine would not do them any good at night. He hadn't even introduced them to candies yet, and he thought that it would be a long time before he did that. In a fit of paranoia, he picked up the heart-shaped chocolate box, padded over to the kitchen and dumped it wholesale into the waste bin.

All the while, Buttercup had heard everything, including the waste bin opening and closing, each time with a metallic thud.

When all was said and done, Professor Utonium picked up the rest of Wiggum's gifts and brought them down to the lab for analysis; they could be laced with a nerve agent or rare, scentless poison for all he knew. He stowed them in a file cabinet, where he thought the Girls would never think to find them.

Meanwhile, Buttercup had returned to her toys, a little confused, but also with a great sense of unease. There were things that daddy didn't want her to hear, and they sounded like something bad. After wheeling her Ferrari for a bit, she soon lost her taste for playing and just sat down at the foot of the professor's bed, with her arms folded in the usual fashion, her green-rimmed eyes staring daggers at the door. 'How could daddy hide things from me?' she thought, but other things were surfacing, as they never had before, in the horizon of her mind. Her experience with the dead cat had taught her much. 'Is daddy lying to me about something?'

What disturbed Buttercup the most was the part about Wiggums calling them 'subjects' and 'lab experiments'. She knew what those words meant, and they weren't usually used to refer to little girls like them. But who were the others? And what did daddy throw away? And why?

"Buttercup, are you okay?" Bubbles had crept up to her without her knowing. "You look sad." There was more that Bubbles wanted to say, but she didn't know many words for emotions. There were some she had forgotten about, and had to think hard just to recall. She was the least intelligent and the weakest of her sisters, and she knew it; it was because of this that she was willing to put up with Buttercup's meanness, along with the undeniable love she felt for her as a sister.

Bubbles took Octi and snuggled it up next to Buttercup's cheek. She puppeteer the octopus soft toy to kiss the green-eyed girl on the cheek. "Octi loves you too. Don't be sad."

Buttercup threw Bubbles an angry look, feeling annoyed, but it didn't last for very long. Something had clicked inside of her, and she smiled back but said nothing more, a feeling she had less familiarity with than Blossom and Bubbles, but that, too, did not last.

"Come play with us, Buttercup," Bubbles said, speaking for Octi as well.

"I don't feel like it," the ravenette said, dispassionate.

"You can always draw with me," Blossom offered from the desk. "I'm trying to figure out this 'al-fa-bet' thing that daddy told us about this morning? They look weird, and I still don't understand how they can speak to us…"

"I don't think I can help. Daddy said that you're the smart one, so I'll just slow you down," Buttercup said, for the first time sarcastic. Blossom turned to look at her once more with an eyebrow raised, this time vaguely upset, offended and worried at the same time. Having just discovered sarcasm from Buttercup, she didn't know how to react to it.

"Buttercup..." Blossom said, but could not decide what to say. In her short life, she wasn't used to feeling so many things at once.

Then the door to their daddy's room opened, and Professor Utonium stood at the door. "Girls, it's time to go down to the lab," he said, still a little bit cross with Wiggums' visit, and his stiff mannerism and slight frown had shown it.

"Dad?" Buttercup said, while looking downcast with emptiness in her eyes.

"Yes, sweetie?" Professor Utonium asked.

"Is there something you want to say to me?" Buttercup asked. It was, to her, a last chance at hope.

"Why, no. Why would you ask, Butterbear?" the professor said, completely oblivious to what Buttercup knew.

"Oh, nothing, daddy," Buttercup lied.

"Now come on, I know you like exerting yourself a little bit. I've got just the thing for you in the lab," the professor was almost raving, trying to get the Girls to be excited for the tests ahead. He held out his hand for Buttercup, and she took it. With her eyes perpetually downwards, she followed him out. Blossom and Bubbles trailed behind them, with Blossom honestly excited and Bubbles nervous as usual.

"Be a sport, Buttercup. It's going to be fun!" the professor said some more when he noticed how sad she appeared. To him, it just seemed that she was afraid of more tests, after what had happened with the treadmill and the blood-collection-routine-turned-skin-hardness-test.

For the first time ever, Buttercup finally understood what the word 'alone' meant, despite being in full company of her entire family.

Chapter Text

12051988 W2 Series Tests

DOC: 5 DEC 1988

The following is a record of all the tests conducted on 5 DEC 1988, in preparation of the week 2 general meeting of 6 DEC 1988.

Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 DNA and cell samples collection, 12051988 W2 Report

Desc: The failure of my equipment in collecting blood samples from the Girls had given me pause when it comes to collecting any kind of tissue samples from the Girls. However, I had an idea a few days ago: should the biological processes of the Girls be analogous to that of a normal stock human being, then it is still possible to collect tissue samples via their body's natural processes.

To this end, I have prepared a standard kit for collecting cheek cell samples, as well as procedures for collecting dead skin cells.

Results: And it worked. The Girls' body naturally sheds tissue cells, and I was able to collect samples from each of the Girls. I will be keeping several sets for myself, for further study of the effects of Chemical X on their bodies and DNA. I will send several sets over to the Organization as well, to the folks in the Department of Science.

Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Strength Test 2 Log, 12051988 W2

Subjects Involved:

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Equipment Used:

1x 300lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 400lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 500lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x ECG Machine

1x Medical Kit

3x Strength Test forms

1x Clipboard

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Operating Procedure:

- As control has been established in Strength Test 1, I will abstain from lifting heavy weights.

- I have decided that Bubbles should do this test with the Girls. With good management, nothing should happen to her and her confidence will increase with the completion of this test.

- The Girls are to take turns lifting each steel weights.

- The Girls are to be examined for physiological reactions.

- If physiological and behavioral change is observed, time to exhaustion is recorded.

- A rest period of ten minutes is designated between each consecutive weight levels.

- Safety is paramount. Test to stop if any difficulty whatsoever is encountered by the girls.

- Standard first aid procedures is a must.

Test Results:

300lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Felt a 'tickle' in her hands. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no difficulty? Alleges that she felt nothing. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Felt 'funny' in her fingers. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

Notes: I made a comparison with my notes in Strength Test 1 Log, and found that the descriptions given by the Girls here is the same as when the Girls were tested with a 250lbs Steel Weight. Cross-referenced with the ECG ratings, it appears that their description is accurate. Except perhaps that of Buttercup - it is possible that she has been downplaying the sensations she felt.

400lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Felt a 'tickle' in her hands. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed. Alleges that she felt nothing. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Felt 'funny' in her fingers. ECG shows more increase in heart rate than B-47 and B-48. Perspiration. Increased breathing rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

Notes: In this test, I asked Buttercup to carry the 400lbs Steel Weight for a full 10 minutes based on my deductions of the inaccuracy of the descriptions of her sensations. She appears unhappy because of this, but did as I asked.

Bubbles appear to be having difficulty. When asked, she reports that she is feeling nervous. It is possible that the physiological change in her has psychological roots. Her ability to carry the 400lbs Steel Weight without struggle supports this.

500lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Felt 'pain' in her hands. Perspiration and increased breathing rate sets in. ECG shows higher increase in heart rate than before. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed. Alleges that she felt nothing. Perspiration and increased breathing rate sets in. ECG shows higher increase in heart rate than before. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Felt 'pain' in her hands, spreading to forearm. Heavier perspiration and breathing rate than the others. ECG shows exponential increase in heart rate than before. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

Notes: It appears that we are within reach of Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's weight threshold. Based on the readings of their physiological reactions, it is possible that their recommended carry capacity stands at 750lbs to a maximum of 1,000lbs. Their real maximum carry weight however, could be anywhere between 1,250lbs to 1,500lbs. Maybe even more. However - a bit of a conjecture here - it is highly possible that their carry capacity can be increased further with training. However, whether it is an increase in 1lbs or 100lbs after conditioning will depend on how Chemical X has adapted their bodies to such super-human rigors. For now, we have no data on this.

At this point, Buttercup is surely lying about what she felt without a shadow of a doubt. I will have to speak to her about this later. However, if there is anything at all to be gained from her insincerity, it is that she casts some light on the level of exertion or pain she is willing to endure, and by extension, what Blossom and Bubbles could potentially be willing to endure.

Bubbles, on the other hand, appears to be upset by her apparently worse performance. It helps her, though, when I told her that, at this point, she is already stronger than the strongest weightlifters in the Olympics.

Psychologically, however, there is consensus - Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup are not averse to lifting heavier weights. This is amazing! I never expected them to carry beyond 500 lbs, but they appear to be capable of more!

Conclusion: It appears that the Girls are capable of carrying over 10 times their weight, with very little physiological reaction at all. For comparison, this is a factor of 20 times the recommended carry weight of 5-year-olds, and beyond what even trained male adults are capable of. Strength, however, is only a part of the equation. They are capable of carrying weights for FAR longer than even Olympiad weightlifters. However, I will still be doing a full medical examination of their bodies as soon as I have the equipment. Hopefully, a full medical examination will also shed some light into the mechanisms of their body that allowed this impossible feat to happen.

I will be planning and preparing for a third test. Increment in weight will be the same, but I will go all the way from 600lbs to 1,000lbs, with the expectation that the Girls will not be able to carry the thousand-pounder for more than a few minutes. I'll have to be extra careful with the Girls in this third test though. The closer I come to their limitations, the more dangerous it becomes for them.

Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Hardness Test 2, 12051988 W2 Transcript

The following was transcribed from a video taken by Agent Utonium.

DOC: 5 DEC 1988

TRANSCRIPT STARTS

(The camera sits on a counter, before three surgical beds with B-47 (Blossom), B-49 (Bubbles) and B-48 (Buttercup) in nothing but patient gowns sitting on them from left to right. Beside each of the beds are tanks of general anaesthetic gas, ECG machines and surgical trays. B-47 and B-49 appears to be talking animatedly while B-48 appears dejected and withdrawn.)

B-47 (Blossom): -Chicken steak is the best! The way Daddy makes them with mash potatoes and onion rings…

B-49 (Bubbles): But scrambled eggs... Octi and I can never say no to that!

B-47 (Blossom): Bubbles… Scrambled eggs' for breakfast. We're talking about dinner.

B-49 (Bubbles): But why can't we have scrambled eggs for dinner?

B-47 (Blossom): Because we just can't? Right, Buttercup?

B-48 (Buttercup): (grunts her answer) Yeah yeah, of course.

(Professor Utonium, with his head poking outside the FOV of the camera, walks over to the camera while writing a few words on a clipboards and picks it up.)

Professor Utonium: (While looking at watch) The time now is 1630. Subjects involved in this test are Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, or B-47, B-49 and B-48 as you people call them-

B-49 (Bubbles): But I want scrambled eggs!

B-47 (Blossom): But scrambled eggs' for breakfast!

Professor Utonium: (Turns behind) Girls, can you keep it down? We'll have scrambled eggs and chicken steaks both later, but we gotta finish this test!

B-47 and B-49: (In unison) Yay!

B-48 (Buttercup): (in a low tone) Great.

Professor Utonium: (Turns back to face camera) The purpose of the test is to establish, with a degree of accuracy, the position of the Girls' skin on the Moh's scale. The last time I did it was without planning due to the chance discovery of the Girls' resilience, and that resulted in emotional trauma for the Girls. Thus, to avoid causing more pain to the Girls, I have decided that I should anaesthetize the Girls. Should I actually find a material that could cut them, general anaesthesia should also provide me with the opportunity to treat the Girls before they wake up.

(The professor walks over to B-47 (Blossom) and sets the camera down on the tray beside her bed. He picks up a face mask.)

B-47 (Blossom): But what if I can't sleep, Daddy?

Professor Utonium: You'll do fine, Blossom. When I put on the mask and switch on the gas, I want you to count from ten, alright? Do you remember the numbers I taught you?

B-47 (Blossom): Yes, Daddy. (She lies down on the surgical bed. Professor Utonium slips the anaesthetic mask over her face and turns a valve on the anaesthetic tank. He caresses her forehead.)

B-47 (Blossom): Ten… Nine… Eight… (Professor Utonium continues to turn up the valve) Seven… Six… Five… Four… Three… Two… One… Dad, I can't sleep when I'm counting.

Professor Utonium: Just a second, honey. You're tough. (He turns the valve some more, which meant that he had to pump a lot of gas into B-47 in order to knock her out) Can you start from ten again?

B-47 (Blossom): Ten… Nine… Eight… S- Seven… S- (Blossom appears to have been rendered unconscious)

Professor Utonium: Good girl. (The professor sweeps aside a lock from her face, then turns to the camera to pick it up.)

(Professor Utonium walks around the now-asleep B-47 (Blossom) and walks over to B-49 (Bubbles), who looks nervously between B-47 and the professor)

B-49 (Bubbles): Daddy, I'm scared.

Professor Utonium: (encouragingly) Don't be, Bubbles. You're one of the strongest girls I've ever met.

B-49 (Bubbles): But what if I don't wake up again? (She appears to know that the sleep Blossom had entered into was not natural)

Professor Utonium: Daddy's here, Bub. I'll make sure you're fine. I'm a doctor too, other than being a scientist. Now, don't you worry… (He gently presses a hand down on Bubble's shoulder to gesture for her to lie down. Slips an anaesthetic mask over Bubble's face. Bubbles reaches out for Professor Utonium's hand and the professor holds it as he turns the valve on the gas tank, this time more aggressively) Count from ten, honey.

B-49 (Bubbles): T-ten… Nine… Eight… I- I forgot the next- (She still appears to be frightened, and her fear might have caused her to forget her numbers)

Professor Utonium: Seven, darling. It's seven.

B-49 (Bubbles): (Did not reply. She appears to be incapacitated.)

Professor Utonium: You'll be fine, Bubbles. I'll protect you no matter what.

(With that, the professor turns around and picks up his camera. He walks around the now-unconscious Bubbles and sets the camera down next to B-48 (Buttercup)

B-48 (Buttercup): Dad, what's going to happen when I fall asleep? (Appears to be in a bad mood, with her body stiff. Her eyes were down and together with a frown apparent on her face.)

Professor Utonium: Buttercup, we've talked about this. I'm trying to see how strong you are.

B-48 (Buttercup): Really? (she crosses her arms again, Buttercup-style)

Professor Utonium: Yes, really. I will be sticking you different things (the professor drives a finger into Buttercup's side, tickling her) like that! (He then went on to tickle her with both hands on the sides of her torso)

(For a time, B-48 appears to be laughing uncontrollably as she struggles to push the professor's hands away, but the professor would always manage to tickle her some more. B-48 appears to enjoy this. Eventually, the professor stopped but with the both of them laughing together, still.)

Professor Utonium: There you go, Buttercup. Gosh, it's been a long time since I saw a smile on your face. What's gotten into you, lately?

B-48 (Buttercup): (while scratching her head) N-nothing, really. It was nothing. (Appears overwhelmed with emotions for some reason) I- I just… (Her lips tremble and tears well up in her eyes)

Professor Utonium: (Proceeds to hug B-48) Oh, you silly girl. We can always talk if something is wrong.

B-48 (Buttercup): (While sobbing) It's nothing! I-I just…

Professor Utonium: (Lets go of B-48 (Buttercup) and stares lovingly into her eyes, while wiping away her tears with his fingers) Everything's fine, Butterfly. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but just remember that I will always be your father and you will always be my daughter.

B-48 (Buttercup): Always? (Controlling her sobs)

Professor Utonium: Always. Now, enough of this sulking. Turn that frown upside down, because you'll be in lalaland and you won't feel a thing this time! (He takes the anaesthetic mask and holds it in front of B-48. B-48 (Buttercup) slips it on and lies down. Tears are still flowing down the sides of her face.) Now count from ten. (Begins aggressively spinning the valve on her gas tank)

B-48 (Buttercup): Ten… Nine… Eight… D-daddy?

Professor Utonium: Hmm?

B-48 (Buttercup): I love-

Professor Utonium: Buttercup?

B-48 (Buttercup): (Non-responsive, appears to have become unconscious)

Professor Utonium: *Sighs* (He picks up a pair of forceps with a ball of cotton on it and wipes away the tears on B-48's face) Note to whoever is watching. I don't think my videos are ever going to be straightforward as planned. Not that I'm complaining. The Girls are amazing, whether or not it has anything to do with their enhancements.

(The recording cuts and then resumes with Professor Utonium standing over Buttercup. The professor is now in surgical scrubs, with rubber gloves and a mask on. He walks over to the camera to adjust it, pointing it at a tray full of scalpels.)

Professor Utonium: The test will be conducted with a range of scalpels made of materials increasingly harder than high carbon stainless steel. From left to right, I have ordered scalpels edged with: Industrial high carbon steel, tungsten carbide, synthetic diamond, diamond, lonsdaleite, crude duranium and refined duranium. This should provide a mohs scale range from 8 to beyond 10. Crude and refined duranium had to be sourced from the Institute, and are the hardest known substances on Earth, among other things. Accompanying the scalpels are a full set of surgical tools made with the same materials, in case any of the materials do manage to defeat the Girls' skin.

(The camera's position is readjusted once more to focus on the sleeping form of Buttercup. He proceeds to pick up one of the scalpel and holds it over B-48)

Professor Utonium: I will now proceed to test the hardness of Buttercup's skin against industrial high carbon steel. (proceeds to slice Buttercup in the arm, but there is no cut) No effect. Testing other regions of the skin. (proceeds to slice Buttercup in the cheek, neck, chest, stomach and thigh, all to no effect) This concludes my suspicion. It appears that the hardness of Buttercup's skin is not secluded in one region of the skin, but is, as far as I know, universal.

(The professor continues with the test, going through tungsten carbide, synthetic diamond, diamond and lonsdaleite to no effect.)

Professor Utonium: It appears that Buttercup's skin has gone beyond the Mohs scale, joining the ranks of duranium. That said, that leaves duranium. (He picks up another scalpel.) Applying crude duranium to test the hardness of Buttercup's skin against crude duranium (proceeds to slice Buttercup's skin with crude duranium scalpel) I have no doubt that- Wait. (There appears to be a white line drawn by the scalpel on Buttercup's arm) Let me try that again. (slices Buttercup's skin in the exact same spot. The second time, the white line seems to deepen. This continues until the fifth time, when-). *Exhales in shock* (Blood seeps out of the white line, forming a thin, red line).

Professor Utonium: Crude duranium appears to be capable of breaching Buttercup's skin. I will now have to examine the wound, but on initial observation, crude duranium is only slightly harder than Buttercup's skin, as it took multiple strokes and some effort to cut it. (There isn't lots of blood, and the professor cleaned it with a cotton ball on forceps) The wound appears to be superficial. There is no need for stitching.

Professor Utonium: I hesitate to do this, but I must test refined duranium against Buttercup, if only to know how much damage it could do against my Girls… So that we can all avoid it in the future. (Picks up the last scalpel and places it against Buttercup's arm, just below the wound made by crude duranium) *Heavy breathing* (with one deft stroke, the professor sliced Buttercup's arm. It bleeds immediately, the blood voluminous and the wound deeper) Oh God- It appears that I- Refined duranium seems to be what steel is to normal human skin. (blood continues to pour, staining the bed. The professor, with shaky hands, cleans the wound with a cotton ball forceps) Examining wound. It seems that I have completely cut through the skin and even scraped at the muscle. I wonder… (Picks up diamond scalpel and scrapes against muscle tissue) Yes, just as I suspected. Buttercup's hardness goes beyond skin-deep. Now, to perform the first-ever duranium surgery. (picks up duranium surgical needle and puts a thread through it. He begins sewing up the wound caused by the refined duranium scalpel) *exhales* Calm down, Upton- You didn't mean to hurt your daughter-

Professor Utonium: Conclusion. It appears that Buttercup's skin has a hardness rating close to that of crude duranium but slightly lower, with refined duranium being the only reliable material known to man to be able to penetrate Buttercup's skin and flesh. I hate to do this, but I'll have to repeat this with Blossom and Bubbles, to see if this applies to all of them.

(The rest of the video is a repeat of the test on subjects B-47 and B-49)

(Professor Utonium is standing over Blossom, his pair of rubber gloves bloody. Blossom's arm is cut and stitched up the same way as Buttercup's.)

Professor Utonium: (Appears stressed) Final Conclusion. Nothing new. They're all the same. Even Bubbles. I think I'm done for today. Ice cream just won't cut it this time. They deserve much more for what I had to do. Another trip to the city? Perhaps the movies? With giant tubs of popcorn and bottomless cups of soda? Beats the hell out of me. I'll decide later. I just hope they won't be too affected by their very first injuries.

TRANSCRIPT END

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Of Plagues and Plagiarisms

6 DEC 1988. 0638.

Daddy…

Shhh… Bloome, don't speak- Just- Just- Breathe-

Daddy, it hurts…

The pain will pass, honey, just..

WHY DID YOU HURT ME DADDY

Professor Utonium practically jumped out of his sleep when the swirling, otherworldly visions of his past became all too surreal and violent. In it, his late biological daughter, Bloome Upton, was a mangled corpse, and she had turned into Buttercup when she accused him of the worse things a father could do.

Feeling his forehead, the professor felt like a flu was on the horizon. His headache was only slightly improved, and he felt shivers and weakness wrapped around his body. His forehead was burning like a forest fire. He had fallen asleep in the Girls' room, after he had dragged security into the house to help the Girls arrange the furniture of their room. It was all pink now. The only remaining vestige of Wiggums' mistake was the carpet, which was white in color. Their mountain of soft toys lay in a corner, and pink shelves filled with less safer toys and storybooks lined a corner. The only thing the room seemed to lack were windows.

The Girls were just right beside him. He had fallen asleep on a chair he bought for telling bedtime stories, and it was beside a bed seemingly made just for them - a queen sized bed with a pink frame and a red heart on the head board. The blanket divided the bed between the Girls; Blossom took the red centre, Bubbles the blue left and Buttercup the green right. They were all in color-matching night gowns. Bandages on their left arms reminded him of the terrible thing he had to do last night.

It was perhaps a blessing in disguise that the Girls had woken up from general anaesthesia groggy and very late into the night, only long enough for them to eat their dinner, drink gallons of water and then go right back to bed - in his bed. Based on this response, the professor had estimated that he had overshot the requirement for putting them under slightly. It was another discovery worthy of note. They had to inhale most of the anaesthetic in their gas tanks before they were knocked unconscious. A little less would have been enough. However, it showed that they were far more resistant to such gasses than even a normal adult human being - which could be a good and a bad thing.

They hadn't noticed what he had done to them yet. Minor wounds they might be, but to children who were born just two weeks ago under accelerated conditions, it could be a big deal. Especially to Buttercup - Professor Utonium was becoming increasingly worried about her. She had started testing the waters of his authority rather early. It hadn't gone unnoticed either that she was abrasive to her sisters, defiant, and it was what he didn't know that scared him. He had no idea what Buttercup was thinking, or suspecting, when she had started questioning him and his motives, as misled as she was. It almost seemed as though she was hiding something from him.

The Girls woke up not long after him, somewhat refreshed, earlier than usual. Thankfully, the very first thing they did when they did wasn't to question him about the bandage on their left arms, hiding an even worse truth, but to run straight to the washroom, with each of them occupying each of the three washrooms in the house. They had simply drunk too much last night to compensate for the dry feeling in their mouths when they woke up from their drug-induced coma.

It gave Professor Utonium enough time to think, about what to say and what to do when they realized what he had done - an hour simply wasn't enough - as he prepared their dresses and accessories of the day, all laid on their bed according to the color of their blankets. They hadn't even realized yet the surprise that their room was completed and they had been sleeping in their new bed.

Blossom was the first to return, having used the washroom just outside the door of her room. The professor had switched on the light while she was gone, and the moment she came through the door, her tired eyes became wide eyes. "Wow…" she ogled the room with gaping mouth.

"I got the neighbors to help," the professor confessed, and by neighbors, he meant the security teams stationed on the opposite side of the road from them. Admittedly, it was a little awkward to have nondescript men in business suits and SWAT gear pushing kiddy furniture around the house, but as long as it got the job done… "What do you think, Blossom?"

"It's beautiful," Blossom said with awe, and ran over to the professor to hug him. The professor bent down to receive her. "Oh, thank you, Daddy."

Bubbles and Buttercup were back soon after that. It sounded like they were using their super-speed ability, but the professor did not care to lecture them about superpowers in the house at this time.

The moment Bubbles saw the room, she looked like she was about to shed tears of joy. She went over to her daddy and kissed him in the cheek. Buttercup, however, maintained a lukewarm attitude.

"It's cool, I guess…" the ravenette said, her raspy voice reserved in tone. The color scheme didn't impress her. Where the others had repeatedly returned to their room while it was incomplete just to imagine how it would be like when it was done, Buttercup had steered clear of it just to avoid the thought of how Blossom-centric it was. And now it was official: The walls and ceiling were pink, the furniture were pink, and the pink bed frame had a mattress with pink bed sheets and a blanket with red down the middle, with Blossom taking centre stage as though she was the star among them.

"I'm glad you Girls like it," the professor said, knowing full well that at least one of them didn't. "Now it's time for your morning bath. Today is going to be a special day."

"How is it special, dad?" Blossom asked as they entered the bathroom. The professor plugged the bathtub and ran the hot water.

"We're going out today, and then, you get to see daddy go to work," he explained.

"But don't you work at home?" Buttercup, from behind Blossom, asked.

"I have to meet people sometimes," he claimed, this time without pause; he didn't have to lie this time, something that was refreshing.

The girls took off their nightgowns, but before they could jump into the bathtub, the professor put a hand out to stop them. "I'll have to remove the bandages first, Girls."

"What are they for?" Bubbles asked, curious. "They look nice." Blossom was silent. She thought she knew the answer, but it was at the tip of her tongue.

"It itches inside! What's in there?" Buttercup asked in a gruff manner. Reaching down, the professor loosened the surgical tape holding Bubbles' bandage in place and unrolled it. Soon, the two wounds he had cut into her showed themselves. The lower cut was stitched together, whiter than their skin. Bubbles screamed in her high-pitched voice when she saw it.

"Daddy, what happened!" she screamed.

"Now, now, dear, calm down!" Professor Utonium tried to say. Everything was soon unraveling before him, literally. Buttercup and Blossom copied the professor's action, throwing open their bandages before he could say otherwise. They both discovered the exact same wounds at the exact positions on their arms. They gasped collectively.

"Dad, did you do this to us?" Blossom asked, sounding obviously wounded, the way her voice was heavy with emotions, from the way she looked at the professor.

"You said you wouldn't hurt us!" Buttercup accused.

"Girls, just wait a minute…" the professor pleaded with them. His heart was racing just as much as his mind was racing for an answer. It wasn't easy, trying to condense the rationale behind medical experimentation for the betterment of their lot in the future into something 2-week-olds can understand. "It's… Just… Like a flu shot."

"What's a flu shot?" Blossom inquired, ever the inquisitive one. At least the lust to know distracted her a little. The professor smiled at his tiny success with Blossom, who took after him in almost every way, bar the enhanced abilities.

"It's an injection - painful and unpleasant - that you take so you won't get sick," the professor explained, only to get another torrent of questions from Bubbles and Buttercup. They had no idea what an injection was - their ordeal with a steel needle gave them little indication of what it was. Then there was the part about getting sick. The Girls hadn't truly experienced any form of plague yet, and Professor Utonium wasn't sure if they ever will. For all he knew, Chemical X could have given them an impervious immune system. But it was all working, taking their mind off their first wounds.

"So you see, Girls, I had to do it, even if it seems unpleasant," he concluded after explaining everything.

"It itches," Buttercup said, and reached for the wound to scratch it. The professor grabbed her hand before she could.

"Don't scratch it, and don't touch it. It'll get worse if you do," Professor Utonium warned. "I'll have to wash it carefully."

The Girls carefully dipped themselves in the hot water. The professor gave them a sponge bath instead, carefully padding the wounds and making sure to be gentle. The Girls would usually play in the tub, flinging water everywhere, building a thick layer of bubbles as they applied copious amounts of soap and shampoo, usually with Buttercup being an unwilling participant who prefers a hassle-free quick bath, but this time, it was a tamer affair.

After the relatively different bath, the Professor made breakfast for them. To make up for the dinner the Girls barely remembered, the professor made scrambled eggs, toast and bacon for them, something which delighted Bubbles immensely.

The morning was spent on the usual routine, and it was during this time that the professor knew it - he felt like he was reaching his breaking point. For two weeks, he had basically brought the three Girls up to speed to a mental state fast approaching that of 5-year-olds. For two weeks, he had almost never left their side, constantly caring for them. For two weeks, work and family life intertwined, becoming nearly one and the same. And for two weeks, he toiled in Organization labour late into the night, late into midnight, constantly plagued by fear and worry and anger. It would be an understatement to say that he hadn't been caring for himself adequately. The debt was accumulating. He felt his forehead, and he realized that his fever hadn't abated even after a few hours. The same went for his shivers and nerves. As the hours passed, the color drained from his face. Even the Girls, who had no experience with illnesses, especially in adults, were starting to take notice.

"Daddy, are you okay? You look shocked," Blossom, always being the nice one to her daddy, asked, eyebrows arched like a raised bridge as she scrutinized the professor's pale face.

"I'm fine, darling," the professor lied, even as he was wiping cold sweat from his forehead; he was feeling cold where he wasn't covered - namely his face and hands - and hot under his lab coat and office wear. Bubbles and Buttercup stared in silent agreement. "I really am. It's, urm, normal."

Reluctantly, the Girls desisted with their observations.

As time passed, Blossom, as usual, had gravitated towards the professor and he to her. Bubbles took the place of a satellite. It infuriated Buttercup as she was left alone again with her treasure trove of model cars and trucks. But then something clicked in her. An idea, half-worded but fully formed, based in what she observed of her sisters and her daddy.

Later in the morning, Buttercup approached the professor while Blossom and Bubbles were off drawing and coloring together.

"Dad, will I… Look prettier if I wear a bow and comb my hair straighter?" she asked him, while the professor was sitting on the floor, steeling himself for the long day ahead. For some reason that Professor Utonium couldn't find the energy to pursue, Buttercup had adopted a less gruffer attitude, one that was more reminiscent of Blossom or Bubbles'. One that he'd come to think wouldn't fit her.

"Sure, honey, why not? Do you need my help?" the professor offered.

"Yes, very much, dad," she said, all sweet like, even to a point beyond the mean of girls. She was fluttering her eyelids lovingly, putting her hands together in anticipation, playing with her feet.

Buttercup's hair was challenging to comb down. Hers was the kind that loved to stick up in blades, even when they were down to the waist. But eventually, the professor was able to straighten it enough such that it resembled Blossom's hefty locks. The professor got up and rummaged through the pink dressing table.

"Well, I don't have a green hair bow - I thought you hated that kind of accessories - but I did have a black one that Blossom didn't want," Professor Utonium said before slipping it onto Buttercup's scalp. "And for the finishing touches..." The professor added a black hair clip - another Blossom reject - to the back of Buttercup's hair, which was analogous to Blossom's pink heart hair clip. "I think your hair would look nicer if it's shorter. I'll cut it later, okay?" Although the professor was by no means a certified barber, he's had experience with his own biological daughter. The professor had always been able to excel in whatever he put his heart to, whether it was science-related or not.

"It's fine, daddy. I should learn how to take care of my hair better," Buttercup admitted girlishly, which stumped the professor again. The green-eyed girl had never liked her long hair, nor the prospects of maintaining it or taking a bath.

When the professor was done, Buttercup looked almost exactly like Blossom, except green and black, rather than pink and red. When Blossom came over to look, it felt like staring at a doppelganger, or a twin - though she hadn't learned the words for either. She couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow at Buttercup's change of appearance.

Bubbles giggled when she saw the similarities too. "You two look a lot like sisters!" she announced.

"But we are sisters," Blossom said.

"Maybe I should get my own hair bow too!" the blonde said innocently, unaware that Buttercup's moves were calculated.

Chapter Text

A Quick Note on the Girls' Hair

DOC: 6 DEC 1988

Background: In preparation for the Week 2 General Meeting, I just thought I should give the Girls a haircut. While I will never equal the grace and skill of a barber, I believe I can do a very good job just trimming their hair.

Desc: I experimented with Buttercup first, sitting her in a chair with a sheet wrapped around her. 'Is it going to hurt?' that poor innocent girl had asked, no doubt affected by all the experiments I have to do to her. I told her that it would not, because there are no nerves in hair. Anyway, moving on…

I tried using a normal pair of scissors. Small and made of stainless steel. Imagine my surprise when it wouldn't cut the Girls' hair! Sensing another opportunity to discover more about my amazing little Girls, I picked one single strand out to try to cut it with the small stainless steel scissors, but even a single strand was able to withstand steel!

I told Buttercup and her siblings to stay in the balcony, and I raced down to the lab to pick up my collection of harder-than-steel scalpels, the ones I used to test the Mohs rating of their skin. Anyway, to cut the long story short, even the Girls' hair are harder than diamonds. Only Crude Duranium and Refined Duranium can cut them.

Knowing that I will probably do badly as a barber with only scalpels for barbering, I've decided to postpone their haircut. I've placed an order for Duranium scissors and razors from the Institute in addition to surgical tools - Talk about the world's most expensive haircut!

But there's more to this. Yes. I tried fire. Don't ask me how I came up with the idea. I lit a matchstick and held it under Buttercup's hair. I only succeeded in burning my fingertips, not her hair. It appears that their hair, and perhaps by extension, the Girls themselves, are flame retardant. I will have to investigate this further, but it will make for a challenging experiment to plan and set up, especially if I want to know the sensation the Girls would feel while a fire is licking at them, even if they cannot be damaged by it.

Anyway, I think I've done more damage by exposing the Girls to fire. I will have to watch them more closely least they try to play with it and set The House on fire.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Cracked Mirror

The City of Townsville. Downtown. The Mall.

6 DEC 1988. 1345.

At the mall, Professor Utonium had spared no expense in making the Girls happy. He had taken the Girls to the same clothes store where they had picked out the their signature clothes. There, they revisited the same section that gave them their pink, green and blue dresses. The Professor had thought that other types of clothes of the same multi-colored choice was available, and he was right.

Since he was going to an Organization general meeting, and all the bigwigs were going to be there, he thought that dressing up Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup might make… some kind of an impression. He could only hope that his colleagues would see the Girls for who they were - as fellow human beings with thoughts and feelings, who could laugh and cry. It would have to start from the superficial.

Rainbow StreamsTM, whose logo consists of what appeared to be a cross between a rainbow and a river, had been responsible for the Girls' wardrobe, and they would be responsible for more. Next to the dress-and-sashes, there were formal versions of the same thing, with puffed-up skirts with white trims and a more elaborate color-matching ribbon around the back, complete with rounded collars. They were labeled as party dresses.

The professor bought them three sets each, and the Girls loved it, especially Bubbles. Buttercup was swooning over it excessively - even more so than Bubbles, who was supposed to be the most feminine of them all.

After piling on top of that additional accessories to complete the party look, the family had headed to the cineplex, where they bought tickets to Puppet Pals: The Movie. Walking towards their seats, they were constantly under the gaze of unwary citizens, who viewed them with wonder. 'Who are these beautiful girls with their strange, almost-glowing eye colors?' was a common thought. Some stared at the the Girls disapprovingly, either jealous, or thinking that they were wearing colored contact lenses. Others couldn't help but to keep looking, mesmerized, as if they knew what the Girls would become. A few others could not help but to fear them - the Girls' eyes were slightly larger than normal, and they thought it uncanny.

When they had reached their aisle, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup began clamoring for their Daddy once more.

"Can I sit next to you, daddy? Bubbles had been the first to ask him, followed by the others. Professor Utonium seemed to consider the others: Buttercup, who seemed to be making a redoubled effort to gain his attention, and Blossom, who had asked only once and waited patiently after that. Then his eyes slid back down to Bubbles.

"Oh okay, Bubbles, you can sit next to me," the professor agreed, thinking that he was only being fair to the blue-eyed girl. The Professor sat on the corner chair, followed by Bubbles next to him, then Blossom, and Buttercup, who was, again, furthest away from daddy.

As the cinema darkened and the first advertisement played, Blossom and Bubbles wowed at their first experience of the silver screen. Buttercup, however, had reverted to her old self, crossing her arms and glaring hatefully at the senseless advertisement playing before her. She had allowed herself to drop the girly act only because she couldn't be seen in the dark. It took conscious effort to behave 'feminine', and to Buttercup, it felt tiring.

Buttercup had thought that dressing up exactly like Blossom and acting exactly like Bubbles would cause daddy to pay her even more attention, but it wasn't working.

"Daddy, I need to go…" Bubbles suddenly said.

"You'll need to go to the ladies' then, but I can stand outside in case you need me," the professor offered. What he said gave Buttercup ideas.

"I need to go too!" Buttercup said, feigning urgency. Together, the three of them returned to the lobby, and Professor Utonium escorted them to the ladies, where he waited outside.

"Are you sure you'll be fine on your own?" the professor asked Bubbles; he knew that the weakest of the three was prone to depending on him.

"Don't worry, Daddy. I'll take care of my sister," Buttercup vouched sweetly with the biggest smile on her face, and took Bubbles by the hand, leading her into the ladies' room.

"Aw, you're so sweet, Buttercup," Bubbles said to her sister as they walked in.

Inside, the two of them figured out pretty quickly that they were supposed to use the stalls, as there was an absence of toilet bowls out in the open.

"Bubbles, I want to sit next to daddy," Buttercup demanded, talking to her sister from a stall next to hers'. Inside, the ravenette wasn't even using the toilet. She hadn't drunk much, and had no need 'to go'. She was just sitting on the lid, waiting.

"But I want to sit next to daddy too," Bubbles repulsed, but did it innocently, thinking that Buttercup was just asking. "Maybe you can sit next to him next time."

Bubbles' rejection made Buttercup all the more angrier. Staring around her stall, she noticed that the wall was white porcelain, clean enough such that she could see herself reflected on it, and she didn't like what she saw. She hated the Blossom-like bow and hairstyle she was wearing, and she didn't like that she had to put on a mannerism not of her own. She hated everything - it got her pissed to the point where she slammed her fist on the porcelain, and it cracked. Her reflection was now cracked, and her features twisted by anger and hatred that were supposed to be foreign on a five-year-old face.

"Are you okay, Buttercup?" Bubbles asked from her stall, and to Buttercup it sounded like she was badgering her. "Did you fall down?" Buttercup did not reply. Instead, she got up and stomped out of her bathroom stall. Coming over to Bubbles', she knocked on it.

"Buttercup, I'm not done yet. I just… Don't feel like peeing in such a strange place," came Bubbles' voice from inside her stall. The only reply she got was another round of rapping. "Okay, okay."

Bubbles got off the can and pulled her panties up. Confused, she opened the door to her stall, and before she knew what happened, Buttercup came charging in.

Picking Bubbles up by the collars, Buttercup slammed her sister against the porcelain wall, cracking a tile behind her head. "Bu-Bu-Bu-Butter-" was all Bubbles could manage before Buttercup had put a hand over her mouth. The blonde had never seen such anger and hatred on her sister's face before, the way those green-iris eyes were wide and eyebrows arched with fury, the way those teeth were gritted and ground together - and that was saying a lot, as Buttercup had always displayed some kind of negativity most of the time.

"I'm sitting beside Daddy, like it or not," Buttercup declared, her voice of a lower tone, beyond raspy and expressing a kind of hate that no 5-year-old equivalents should have. Her arms were shaking with fury, punctuating each of her words by shaking Bubbles. "You'll let me sit beside him. We'll switch places. Say yes." Buttercup removed her hand from Bubbles' mouth.

"B-But Butter-" Bubbles tried to reason, but before she could even finish a word, Buttercup's fist landed just beside her face, cracking another porcelain tile. "Yes, yes!"

"Is everything in there okay, Girls?" the professor shouted from the outside.

"Yes, Daddy! Bubbles just fell down in the toilet. It's fine, I helped her up!" Buttercup lied.

"That's my girl!" the professor replied, unaware of what was really going on.

Buttercup had wanted to say more, make more demands, but then something had beaten her to it. The drip of liquid on the bathroom floor. The green-eyed girl looked down… To see a yellowish substance pooling beneath Bubbles' feet. Looking further up, she saw that urine had stained Bubbles' knee-high socks yellow, and dirtied her Mary Jane shoes.

"You peed yourself, Bubbles darling, my dear sister," Buttercup mocked, a devilish smile spreading across her lips.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Bubbles whimpered miserably, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I could ask you the same question," Buttercup said, before turning around and running towards the bathroom's exit, leaving Bubbles standing awkwardly in her stall, her legs closed as she tried desperately to bring her bladder under control; it wasn't an easy feat, as her bladder had been full to begin with.

"Daddy! Daddy! Bubbles peed herself!" Buttercup shouted as she was exiting the ladies', her demented smile still plastered on her face, only to disappear completely as though it was never there to begin with when she was face-to-face with her creator. "What do I do?"

"Oh dear!" the professor said, but then unslung a bag that he had been carrying. "Well, thank goodness I've anticipated that. Here, give this bag to Bubbles. It contains a fresh set of clothes - she can take whatever she needs!"

Buttercup took the bag, and made to return to the ladies'

"And Buttercup," the professor added. Buttercup stopped to listen. "Be a good sister and help Bubbles out, okay? She's always had… difficulties, and we need to support her."

"Yes, Daddy! Of course, Daddy!" Buttercup replied as she raced back into the ladies' and back to Bubbles' stall. She was weeping silently, paralyzed by both her toilet accident and the contradictory idea that the sister she loved could hurt her so much.

"Stop crying, you baby," Buttercup said coldly, and threw the bag into Bubbles' hands, then stomped forward. Bubbles backed away, but couldn't even make much of a distance as her legs were stuck together in shame. "Don't tell Daddy what happened here, or I will hurt you again."

All Bubbles did was nod as tears were spilling out of her eyes.

It took Bubbles the majority of ten minutes to get her act together and clean herself up. When she was finally out of her stall (a different one from the one she had entered originally), she was met with a rather cross-looking Buttercup.

"Took you long enough," Buttercup said, the emotion she was putting in her voice precociously heavy. "You're still crying?" She came forward, and Bubbles shrank in fear as she did, expecting more violence. But then Buttercup placed a tender hand on her cheek, and wiped her tears away with the other.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you, my dear sister," Buttercup said tenderly. "I just want to be close to Daddy." Then, she hugged her sister. It served only to confuse Bubbles even further. For a moment there, Bubbles had thought that Buttercup hated her, and yet she behaved as if she loved her so dearly - or was it both? Or neither? It was an irreconcilable paradox to the naive girl. "Now stop looking so sad and put on a smile, because you've made your dear sister very happy."

As before, Buttercup took Bubbles by the hand and lead her out of the ladies', where Professor Utonium stood, looking worried. "There you are! I was just about to charge in there!"

"We're fine, Daddy! I took care of it. Right, Bubbles?" Buttercup lied. All Bubbles did was to smile, but it was obvious from her reddish eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks that she had been weeping.

"Bubbles… It's alright to have a little accident," the professor said, mistakenly thinking that Bubbles had been crying because of her bladder malfunction. In reality, it was a little bit of that, and much more. "You're only two weeks old, after all! Give yourself some time."

Bubbles' lips trembled as she looked up at the professor. Everything was locked just behind her lips, her teeth, and yet she just didn't dare to tattle on Buttercup. Buttercup had made a terrible impression on her, that it wasn't just the fear of reprisal that made her mute. The feeling was terrible - helplessness, when help was so close and yet so far.

Back at the cinema, as the last ads were playing, Bubbles did as she was told to and sat in what used to be Buttercup's seat while Buttercup took Bubbles', which was beside Professor Utonium.

"Buttercup, aren't you supposed to be nearer to the centre?" the professor asked, confused.

"Oh, Bubbles didn't want to sit here anymore," Buttercup lied. "She must be ashamed of peeing herself."

"Hush now, Buttercup. Don't be rude. But that makes sense. We should give her some space. Maybe the movie might cheer her up," the professor said unassumingly.

"Daddy, can I sit closer to you?" Buttercup requested.

"Sure, I'll just…" the professor said half-way as he pushed the armrest between them up. Buttercup moved up next to him immediately, and together, they cuddled just as two silly-looking puppets appeared on the silver screen. A most contented smile appeared on Buttercup's face as she watched the puppets pummel each other. She held onto her Daddy tightly, wishing that she would never have to let go again.

In the meantime, Bubbles couldn't help but to weep silently at her plight. Her sniffling attracted Blossom's attention. Blossom had overheard what had happened from the professor and Buttercup, even if it was a skewed version of events. Pushing up the armrest between her and Bubbles, she did the same with Bubbles what the professor and Buttercup were doing.

"Forget about it, Bubbles. Just enjoy the movie, it'll make the sadness go away," she tried to comfort her blue sister, but even her words was insufficient, for Bubbles knew that Blossom was ignorant of what had really happened.

Chapter Text

The following is written with an unsteady hand, as evidenced by the poor handwriting. Spelling mistakes were common, which is unlike Agent Utonium. It took multiple administrative officers hours to decipher the faxed version of this document. The following is an amended version of the document.

B-47, B-48 and B-49 W2 Report

DOC: 06 DEC 1988

Created By: Agent Utonium

Title: Second Week Development

Text: Blossom (B-47), Bubbles (B-49) and Buttercup (B-48) have been developing at an exponential rate since my last report. It is simply amazing what the Girls have already mastered. In general, the Girls are just as capable as any 'real' 5-year-olds in all basic tasks, including walking, running, speaking, emoting, relieving themselves, etc.

Linguistically, the Girls had made a paradigm shift in their understanding of the language. As I am a man of science and not of matters of the arts such as language, I am only able to provide them with the most basic of instruction - tenses, pronouns, sentence construction. Perhaps it has something to do with my refusal to 'baby-talk' them, and they've been absorbing lessons from whenever I speak, emulating me. They've now attained enough mastery of English to be able to string together conventional sentences, and this applies even to Bubbles, though poor Bub tends to speak in short sentences - she's just not as confident.

What is most important is that they are catching up with the average development level of a 5-year-old fast. I have taught them almost 900 words so far. Blossom was able to absorb about 880 of them, while Buttercup is fast catching up at 831. Bubbles, however, remains the problem, as her backlog is growing faster than her list of words. Her vocabulary is basic, at 342 words - while still prodigious by normal standards, I cannot ignore the possibility anymore that, compensating for the mysterious effects of Chemical X, Bubbles could be developmentally hampered by some factors.

Since Bubbles appears to be very happy with the familial support her sisters and I provide, and my instruction does not favor any one of them, then I'm afraid the reason could be genetic or pathological. When my medical equipment arrives next week, I'll run all the diagnostic tests possible to determine this, including neuro-imaging. I will also be placing an order with Administration to send me all medical data concerning the Girls' source - those hospital patients who had provided 5YG-1847, 5YG-1848 and 5YG-1849. I have also faxed the required forms to Administration and the Institute to provide the Girls' sources with free consultation and full-suite health screening, which includes the use of genetic testing techniques not yet available to the general population, so that the results could also be sent to me.

If nothing else, I think it'd be exciting to learn more about Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's genetic parentage. How are the girl patients (and by extension, the girl patients' parents) who gave me the Girls like? How similar are they, besides in terms of enhanced abilities? How different are they, besides the color of their eyes?

Beyond learning English verbally and aurally, I have started teaching the alphabets and numbers to the Girls. I think Blossom is getting it, but Buttercup and Bubbles still needs time. That said, I think it is necessary for me to give a brief report on each of the Girls.

BLOSSOM (B-47) - From what I can gather, she seems to like me far more than the others, if that's even possible. However, I don't know if that is what resulted in her markedly superior intellect in tackling whatever I teach her (the self-praise wasn't intended), or if she is naturally gifted with high intelligence, possibly due to the influence of Chemical X. She seems to understand what is right and wrong, good and bad almost instinctively - the earliest indication of this was when I first took her to the city, and she witnessed a robbery. Not only that, she actually tried to enforce what she view as right on her siblings on more than one occasion - and sometimes, what she thinks is right tends to be what I told her. This does not sit well with me, even though I feel tingling all over thinking about it. What if I were to make a mistake? And she'd emulate my mistake? And what if she's put in the outside world? From whom will she get her moral compass from? I can only hope that you would be more independent in the future.

By now, despite being behind a normal 5-year-old in terms of the size of her vocabulary and the breadth of her life's experience, she is already trying to understand the written word, and numbers.

BUBBLES (B-49) - She appears to be the most sensitive of the three. She is awfully sweet and kind. However, her intellectual development is worrying. Not only is she emotionally vulnerable, she is also behind her siblings in terms of her language ability and general knowledge. She usually has to be reminded of things she learned before, and I'm always wreaked with guilt and fear that I can't find a way to help her. She is still wetting herself, most recently in the movies today, which is a few hours before the next incoming general meeting. I can only hope that it isn't a symptom of something greater and worse.

BUTTERCUP (B-48) - Buttercup confuses me. For most of the two weeks, she was the 'tomboy' of the three, and is the most physically able of the three. She had learned how to walk and run the fastest, and she is prone to pushing herself beyond what the other Girls are willing to. This is recorded data in the tests as well. Where the Girls felt the need to express discomfort, Buttercup felt the need to tolerate them and put on a good show for me. This implies mental discipline, which is very precocious for someone her age - both physically and mentally. Furthermore, she appears to be growing independent, but for now, she obviously can't be - I hope I won't have to rein her back, because that could create friction between the two of us.

Then there's that sense I've been getting, like she knows things that she shouldn't and things that I didn't know about. She's been lying to me, that much I know. Either lying or hiding things from me. But it seems to me that she's only doing it in the tests I administer - and I'm sure she has the best of intentions: mostly trying to impress me. But what is most baffling of all is that she seems to have made a 180 degree change in personality today. She's now more like Blossom and Bubbles. While it's possible that the last 2 weeks had been a phase in the development of her personality, it's just as possible that she has just entered a temporary phase as well.

Besides these, to consolidate all my findings of the week: Investigation into the effects of Chemical X in the Girls have thus far shown that they are capable of carrying 500lbs loads with ease and for long periods of time, with a possible maximum load of at least thrice that. They are resistant to piercing and cutting by all but the rarest and hardest materials found on Earth, and they can run up to speeds of 25mph easily and for a lengthy period of time, with Buttercup achieving 28mph briefly before the treadmill she was on broke down. They can likely run up to thrice that speed. All my predictions are based on extrapolation using human models of performance in various fields, but there's a chance that even that won't apply at all.

While only briefly mentioned, they are likely bulletproof because of the nature of human tissue, but this needs further testing. What is confirmed, however, is that their hair is flame retardant, and anaesthetic gas is a factor of just under 100 times less effective when used on them.

Next week, I will be attempting to explore the upper limits of their speed and strength. I will also be devising tests for their senses, to see if they are enhanced in any way. In a way, however, their sense of touch has already been tested. They feel pain much the same way as we do, and even though steel knives can't cut them, they do feel some degree of pain from it. As to how much it is, I'm not certain, as there is no empirical standard for pain. It is just as likely that they are merely intolerant to even the slightest sensations, being just born and inexperienced. Somehow, their sense of touch is selective though, considering that they don't seem to suffer from carrying weights that would have crushed a grown man.

Other tests to look forward to in the future would be heat and pressure stress tests. I will have to devise a way to do it safely, otherwise I might have to abandon any thoughts on these.

Beyond these traits, I struggle to think how else the Girls could be enhanced. Intelligence tests will likely be months away, weeks at the earliest - I prefer to wait until they've developed far enough. I will have to wait and see what other surprises the Girls have for me.

I will likely have time to finally examine them on the medical and cellular level. I'm still struggling to even comprehend how Chemical X could give them these abilities, and if there are any side effects of it in the Girls - this is what I'm most worried about. There could be a time bomb in each of them waiting to go off and for now, we can't see it. I can't stop thinking about this, especially at night, when it is like trying to sleep with a knife at my throat.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Beautiful Things

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

6 DEC 1988. 1650.

"And… There. That should do it," Professor Utonium said as he tied a little butterfly knot on around the back of Buttercup's party dress. Buttercup was standing in front of a standing mirror with the professor kneeling beside her. The professor had added a green ribbon to Buttercup's hair, and now her hair was held in place by an so many head pieces - a Blossom-styled bow, a large hair clip around the back to bunch together her hair, and now… A ribbon.

"Urgh… I mean, I look beautiful, Daddy!" Buttercup swiftly corrected herself, and by now, the professor's awareness was too lacking for him to notice.

"Good, you sure are, Butterfly," the professor added before coughing. It was a dry cough, and the breath he expelled was even worse, as if there was a furnace jammed down his chest cavity, packed with burning coal. Blossom came up to him, worried. She was in her own party dress, frowning briefly at Buttercup when she saw that she looked almost exactly the same as her, except they wore different colors. But she had more important things to worry about.

"Daddy, are you okay?" Blossom asked, hugging the professor from behind. "You look woozy… kinda sick, like the picture you showed me with the green man."

"I'm fine, sweetie, long as I have you," Professor Utonium lied.

"Are you sure? You feel really hot," Blossom pressed on. The professor gently nudged her to let go, before coming to Bubbles, who sat in bed, looking into space. Blossom stared after him with a worried look on her face.

"Bubbles, are you ready?" the professor asked. She did not reply. Instead, she was staring at Buttercup, with a look that the professor thought was difficult to read. Worried? Nervous? Afraid even? But then again, it seemed as if Bubbles was holding back on her facial expression, as if afraid to give away what she felt. "Bubbles?"

Buttercup turned away from the mirror and looked over her shoulder at Bubbles, giving her the same look as she did back in the cinema ladies' washroom. Her eyebrows arched in fury, her teeth gritted and showing as if priming to bite. Her hands clenched into fists, as if ready to turn the room into an open-aired balcony. Bubbles shrank at this display. Blossom thought it strange, but when she traced her line of sight back to Buttercup, Buttercup simply turned back to the mirror and feigned self-absorption, practicing her cutesy poses.

"I'm ready, Daddy," Bubbles simply said, forcing a toothy smile, which ended up crooked. Blossom wasn't convinced, and thought something was afoot. Standing behind Buttercup, she glared at Buttercup's reflection on the mirror with her hands on her hips, since that was the only way she could make eye contact. The latter girl noticed, and stopped acting in front of the mirror. She simply smiled sweetly at Blossom, conveying false innocence and ignorance.

"Girls, we'll need to go. My colleagues are waiting for me," the professor said, trying to sound excited but falling flat towards the tail end of his sentence. The Girls crowded around him, following him out of the room, none the wiser about the wider world, or the darkness surrounding them. On the way out, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup took their synthetic fur coats with them, to put them on. The professor picked up his briefcase.

Downstairs, Professor Utonium could already see his transport, which was waiting for him on the suburban street. It was a nondescript white SUV with shaded windows (of course), most probably subtly upgraded with protective armor and equipped for war. Behind it was an Organization security squad car, just as squeaky white as the SUV. The unmarked white van that had been standing vigil over The House was just driving over to the front of the passenger SUV, taking the front.

"Why are there so many cars, Daddy?" Buttercup asked, all innocent-like. Perhaps she could get to the truth of it all this way…

"Oh, my colleagues are just worried about me, and us," the professor lied. Well, he wasn't exactly lying. It was more of a half-truth, a white lie as white as The House, as white as the snow and the unmarked cars outside. But he wasn't even trying as hard anymore. He couldn't, not just because he felt really sick, but also because he was really sick of having to lie to the Girls all the time.

"Why are they worried?" Blossom took her turn to ask.

"Well, you saw that explosion in the city. They didn't want that to happen to us," Professor Utonium half-lied again. As they got up to the door, the professor could feel a hand pulling at his lab coat. Looking down, he saw that it was Bubbles.

"Daddy, can you hold me?" Bubbles pleaded. There were no tears in her eyes, but she didn't need that to express… Something. For some reason, she had been somewhat distant lately. Before the cinema, Professor Utonium could see through her like glass, but now…

"Sure, Bubbles," the professor cooed, and picked her up. She was amazingly light, considering the kind of power she wielded - the kind of power she didn't know could be utilized for many things, good and bad. Despite being shaken by some shadow illness, the professor was able to carry her with one arm when she wrapped her petite little arms around his neck. He opened the door with his briefcase arm.

They got outside. It was even colder now, even in the late afternoon, with winter in full swing. The window of the unmarked van in front of the SUV rolled down, revealing the leader of the security squad attached to the House. The same grey-haired, aviator-sunglasses-wearing lunatic poked his head out.

"Get in the SUV, we'll take you there, one hour tops," was all the security lieutenant said, before disappearing into the darkness of his ride. As if on queue, the driver of the white SUV opened his door and came out to greet them. A stocky chap, dressed finely in a business suit and coat. Another person, a woman in just as formal a wear, with sunglasses, came out from the shotgun seat, peeking over the roof of the car at the Girls.

"... Professor Utonium. Please," the driver greeted the professor after a pause, as if every single word he said was carefully selected and weighed.

"Hi, mister friend!" Blossom greeted the driver, while waving her hand at him. The driver appeared to stiffen up, as if in anticipation of something, but then loosened himself up after the world did not end.

"Greetings," the driver said stiffly before turning his back to open the backseat door for them.

"Awfully kind of you, mister friend!" Buttercup followed up.

"Naturally," the driver acknowledged unnaturally, before returning to the driver's seat. The Girls came up to the car, but neither Blossom nor Buttercup wanted to get in first. They both wanted to sit next to Daddy.

"I'm scared. You first, sister," Buttercup said, feigning cowardice, offering the opening in the car for Blossom.

"Oh come on! You were next to Dad in the movies!" Blossom argued, more direct, pointing an accusing finger at her sister.

"But- But- But-" Buttercup struggled to keep up with her girlish-girl act. She eventually broke, her frown returning. "You were with Dad ALL the time! You're selfish!"

"No, you're being selfish!" Blossom tossed the heinous word back.

"No, you're selfish!" Buttercup returned.

"Do you need require assistance with this, professor?" the woman at the shotgun seat offered.

"N-no, it's fine. It's just the Girls being the Girls," the professor said, looking incredibly harried. In his mind, poisoned by sickness and exhaustion and the fear for the unknown, unabated by a forward-thinking scientific attitude, it seemed as if the world was falling apart. He had to keep this under control - there was no telling what the security officers might do. He'd seen how twitchy they were.

"Girls, please," the professor pleaded, feeling drained. "Just pile into the car."

"But Dad!" Blossom and Buttercup said in unison.

"Buttercup, get in the car," the professor chose the first of them to go in on his first instinct. Afraid to argue and ruin her act entirely, Buttercup climbed into the SUV, scooting over to her corner on the other side of the car. Blossom, with a smile on her face, sat in the middle. Gingerly, Professor Utonium plopped himself down heavily on the right-most side of the car, with Bubbles on his lap.

The journey was spent in silence. Professor Utonium leaned on the door with his eyes closed and Bubbles had fallen asleep, exhausted for some reason. The professor knew, but he could not explain Bubbles' sluggishness as of late. Buttercup started the journey with crocodile tears, but when no one cared, dropped her tactic and just stared out the window. Blossom leaned against her creator, who she knew to be her father, worried for him, worried for Bubbles, even worried for Buttercup too.

The suburbs gave way to the snowy plains, and then the city, and soon even that was passed, as they entered the forest reserves of Pokey Oaks. Within this space of time, the Girls were able to put past grievances behind them as they stared out of the windows in wonder: they had never seen a forest before. Once in a while, they were rewarded with the sight of the local wildlife, who were long used to these strange metal containers whizzing and screaming through the forest. Deers, mostly.

Before they knew it, the convoy slowed down, and before them were chain-link fences. Behind it was a compound, strangely devoid of security personnel despite the expansion of the Department of Security. The SUV followed the unmarked van in turning left, and they stopped beside what appeared to be a massive bunker.

"This is your stop, Professor Utonium," the driver said gravely without turning back, his eyes on the rear view mirror. The professor stirred, unable to bring himself to open his eyes.

"Daddy?" Blossom shook the professor worriedly.

"I'm fine, I just need a second…" Professor Utonium did not complete his sentence, but instead opened the door without another word. Bubbles felt heavier in his arm. Even the briefcase felt like a boulder. He couldn't believe he was back - back to an Organization establishment. Buttercup took the initiative and opened her door, getting out from the left. Blossom followed Daddy, realizing with a mix of fear and confusion that somehow, he no longer seemed like the invincible giant she thought him to be.

"Bubbles… Wake up. We're here," he said to the bundle of joy in his right arm, gently shaking her awake. She was roused, still silent as before, and the professor put her down.

Once again, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup crowded around the professor. Security officers in gray uniform came out of the entrance, four in all, and shepherded them through the blast doors of the Organization bunker.

Inside, the building seemed different. A little less ominous. But Professor Utonium knew that it was all a facade, just like how everything they did were a facade. There was a receptionist desk up front, a few uniforms around the edges of reception, along with something like a dozen other men in business suits. Officers in plainclothes, the professor knew. Now, he understood why the compound seemed like a ghost town. The walls outside were gray, but the walls inside were white, the furniture futurist.

"Utonium. Right this way," the friendly-looking receptionist in a cardigan waved to her left, flashing a smile that could only be hiding daggers. "We've converted the interro- urm- a room into a fun room!"

"Hello, girls. Do you like fun?" the receptionist rounded around her desk and approached the Girls, at the same time wary that she could be putting herself in danger, but she didn't show it. She'd read the reports - a single punch from one of them could land her in a hospital, eating through a straw and breathing through a tube.

Perhaps the receptionist had came on a bit strong, or perhaps the Girls were still recovering from the shock of their new stark environment, but they were anything but excitable. Blossom was still trying to figure out what 'interro-' was while Buttercup eyed her warily.

"Y-yes?" Blossom managed.

"Great! C'mon girls, let me show you the fun room," the receptionist added, pulling back on her failed attempt at being dynamic. She lead Professor Utonium and the Girls down a corridor, then turned right into a room. Even in his daze, the professor noticed the sign right by the door. 'Security Wing'. Behind the door was another desk, with another uniform behind it. A regular security officer.

"Afternoon, Jane. Afternoon, prof," the security officer greeted, standing up. He looked down at the Girls as they passed, with a half-smile on his face. Behind the officer had been a wall, and they had to turn another corner to see an open area with lockers and benches far behind. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup could make out four men sitting there on benches, dressed in strange clothes - a headgear that appeared hard, like the helmet motorcyclists in the city would wear, but different. Their clothes seemed very thick, as their body appeared far bulkier than anyone, with numerous pockets that were filled with… something and bulging. The Girls could only guess at what they were filled with. Lollipops? Baby Kangaroos? Their shoes appeared to enclose more than just their feet, and in thick material too. In their hands were... Long metal things, some longer than others, with odds and ends sticking out of them.

It was the first time the Girls had seen submachineguns and assault rifles, and they would never figure out what they were until much later.

The moment the Girls set their sights on the four Organization SWAT officers, the officers returned the look, still talking without tearing their eyes away from the Girls. They seemed tense. Bubbles decided to try to be friendly, and waved at them with a smile on her lips. They didn't wave back, neither did they even smile. Thankfully, she didn't have to stay in this area for long.

"Don't mind the magic glass, kids," the receptionist said, referring to the seemingly ordinary window overlooking the 'fun room'. The receptionist stood beside the door. The Girls crowded at the window, finally excited, wanting to see what was inside. They had to stand on tip-toes to see.

There was a ball pit inside, large enough to accommodate three, as well as a castle-bouncer. They didn't know it, but under the window was a shelf containing more conventional toys, as well as picture books.

"Woah," Buttercup said, impressed.

"Wow!" Blossom followed.

"That room's yours, until your father's done with his meeting!" the receptionist offered. Blossom and Buttercup took it without thought, running at high speeds into the room. Too excited to continue their rivalry, they both dived into the ball pit at the same time, sending plastic balls flying upwards, and out of the pit. Only Bubbles seemed less-than-enthused, and she walked in with her head down. She sat on a chair by the shelf, alone.

The professor poked his head in, looking around. To him, it wasn't the 'fun room'. He knew what it was converted from. It used to be an interrogation room, and it will be again once the Girls were gone. The Girls hadn't noticed, but the 'magic glass' was a one-way mirror. On the inside, it showed only a reflection of the room, but from the outside, they could be seen as clear as day.

"Girls," the professor said to gain their attention. Blossom and Buttercup emerged out of the sea of balls they were in.

"Yes, Daddy?" Blossom and Buttercup asked in unison. Bubbles turned to face him, still silent.

"Behave yourselves now. I'll return in a couple of hours," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy!" the Three replied in unison, with Bubbles murmuring. With that, he closed the door, and Blossom and Buttercup returned to swimming in the ball pit, pelting each other with plastic spheres with childish smiles on their faces, all hatred towards each other forgotten.

"Those sweet little girls," the receptionist said with a smile, which disappeared immediately. "But we all know what they really are, am I right?"

"I know 'what' they really are," the professor said cryptically, offended by the receptionist's disregard for the Girls' humanity.

"Meeting room. Opposite end of the building. Level B1. Just follow the signs. They're expecting you in 20 minutes, so take your time. There's a snack machine in the lobby. You look like you need it after 2 weeks with those… Things," the receptionist instructed before leaving the professor be, without waiting for a rebuttal.

But the professor didn't need a snack. He didn't want to leave the Girls. He stood at the one-way window, looking at his angels, putting a shivering hand on the glass. There was no telling what the Organization had in store for them; they were not known for their respect for human rights - much less for animal rights (as Jojo and his family found out the hard way), and even less for… 'Things' which they considered to have no rights. Not that the public knew about them. He feared for their lives, and the four newly-minted SWAT officers, who were now staring at him as if he was guilty of something, did not alleviate that concern.

"Such beautiful young things," a voice commented. A deep voice, gravelly. The professor turned to the source of it. Chief of Security Blackwater. And he was no longer in his gray uniform. Instead, he was dressed the same way as the SWAT officers, in black combat gear with gray trimmings, with a pistol on his thigh - Just no primary firearm and helmet. "All this trouble, over such pretty little things. It's hard to believe that so much power could be found in those creatures."

"Blackwater," Professor Utonium uttered his name with contempt. "Setting your sights on some new targets?"

"I do what is necessary, professor. 'Evil' things, if necessary," Blackwater elaborated, before turning his gaze on the Girls. "That said, that might not be necessary… for now, seeing that you've managed to pacified them… Against all expectations. My men at The House are actually beginning to slacken."

"What do you want?" Professor Utonium demanded. "I'm not supposed to see you until 20 minutes later."

"Just came here to look, prof," Blackwater said, turning to see the Girls in the 'fun room'. "One must know the enemy, as if they're one's friends and family."

"You know, they could be friends and family if you give them a chance," the professor said. He had no energy for hatred and hostilities, even if it was towards a genocidal maniac.

"So you say… So you say," the Chief of Security said, as if deep in thought. "It remains to be seen, but that said, I do only what is necessary. If these little rascals are of no threat to my men, then I will be of no threat to them."

Inside the interrogation room (aka fun room), Buttercup jumped out of the ball pit and came up to Bubbles. "Bubbles! You're missing all the fun!" Buttercup squealed in delight, having forgotten herself in the moment. Bubbles shrank away from Buttercup, but the ravenette took her by the hand and lead her into the ball pit.

"It's just like in the snow, Bubbles! Just… Ball-y!" Blossom shouted with glee from the pit. Bubbles jumped in, and slowly, warmed up to her sisters again, at first wading in the ball pit but then began to engage in the plastic ball fight, perhaps in remembrance of the snowball fight they had… At least the moments before Buttercup knocked Daddy out with a super-dense snowball.

Laughter filled the room, clearly visible through the speakers, fed by sensors in the room.

"I've seen lots of things in my long life, Agent Utonium," Blackwater revealed unexpected. "From the blasted graveyards of World War Two, to the slaughterhouse of the Korean War. I'd fought in the wet, fetid horror of the Vietnam War, seen the first Project Powerpuff subjects tear apart men like ragdolls. I've seen too many freaks tear apart too many of my men. I know freaks like I know the back of my hand."

"But I've also seen many beautiful things. My wife, my four kids. Two daughters and two sons. They're all older than you by now. But I remember how they were like when they were five," Blackwater seemed lost in his own thoughts, in his own past. His lips parted once more, but he sealed them again, preferring to remain quiet this time, with whatever was on his mind kept a secret. Then, he started up again, straightening himself with his hands behind his back as if he was standing at attention. "I'll see you in the meeting room in 15 minutes, Upton."

The Professor stared after the giant man as he left, wondering what all of that was about - he had never heard the man talk that way before.

15 minutes. He looked at the Girls one last time before deciding that it was time to go. Might as well get it over with. He ambled away from the fun room, dragging himself out of the security wing - with difficulty.

Chapter Text

General Meeting 12061988A Transcript

DOC: 06 DEC 1988

The following has been reconstructed from video and audio recordings.

START TRANSCRIPT

(The Location: Meeting Room, Organization Outpost Charlie-01.)

(Attending: All departmental heads and any relevant personnel.)

(Time: 1810. The meeting room of Organization Outpost Charlie-01 is packed almost to the point of congestion. As usual, all department heads are seated at the centre while lower-ranking personnel are forced to stand around the corners of the room. Security personnel are forced to guard the heads of the Organization from the outside.)

(Agent Utonium is last to come in through the double-doors leading into the meeting room. The room falls silent with whispers barely audible throughout. A seat at the foot of the centre oval table is reserved for him. He slumps into it, appearing exhausted, before pushing himself in.)

Organization Director Cliff: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what the hell happened to you, Upton?

Field Researcher Utonium: What do you mean?

Organization Director Cliff: You look like you've been to 'Nam and back.

Medical Director Simmons: I'd be a lousy doctor with a fake medical cert if I can't even recognize something is wrong. Pale complexion, shivering… Exhaustion and an apparent lost of weight. No sense in hiding it, Thomas. I'm worried about you, too.

Organization Director Cliff: Does it have anything to do with exposure to Chemical X, or… the subjects? Do you need some time in the medical wing?

Field Researcher Utonium: (rubbing his forehead) No, I'm just tired. It's nothing, really.

Chief of Logistics Wiggum: (raises a finger) I… Nevermind.

Organization Director Cliff: Fine. We'll tarry no more. Let's get right down to business. As you all may well know, the Organization has been expanding rapidly in the past two weeks. Some of you might recognize a few new faces among us. To smooth this transition, we'll make a round of introductions so we can all get acquainted with each other and work for the betterment of the United States. Bellum?

Liaisons Head Bellum: (Waving to a sharp-looking man with a slick, sweptback hairstyle) Due to the increasing complexity of our financial situation, with a hundred times more funds pouring in, and distribution of said funds to our growing agency, we have appointed Agent Silverslick (code-name in force) as our Chief Financial Officer. He was once a highly qualified stock market analyst sourced from Wall Street. He now serves this great country, as opposed to just one corporation. From now on, matters of funding will go through him.

CFO Silverslick: Glad to make your acquaintance!

Liaisons Head Bellum: (Waving to a another scientist in a lab coat with side-parted hair) Most of you may know him, but for the benefit of those who don't. Deputy Head of Research Vanum (code-named) is now acting Head of Research.

Acting Head of Research Vanum: Hi, Professor Utonium. We miss you!

Liaisons Head Bellum: (Waving to a woman with a ponytail, thin spectacles and casual blouse) Owing to the exponential increase in manpower as of late, Organization Director Cliff has generously authorized the formation of a Psychiatry and Social Services Department, formed from a sub-unit of the medical wing. Heading what should be our favorite department is Professor Alice. In keeping with that, we've promoted her from among our own ranks. (code-name in force) (Laughter fills the room)

Psychiatry and S-S Department Head Alice: Happy to serve, y'all!

(A few more newly recruited or newly elevated heads were introduced: a Chief Admin Manager, who is given a place on the oval table due to the increasingly critical information transactions happening in the Administration department. A new Facilities Manager is also found within their ranks, due to the numerous bases that are to pop up all over the country, and the increasing need for an unfailing infrastructure to support them. Then, as if to compete with the FBI and CIA, a new Chief Intelligence Officer is also added to the bigwig party. Due to the proliferation of increasing numbers of military-grade and experimental-grade weapons and technology, there is also a Chief Armory Officer working alongside the Chief of Security. Furthermore, because the Organization has been putting even more unmarked vehicles on the roads of Townsville and beyond, there is also a Central Motorpool Manager. It is no wonder that the meeting room is so crammed)

Organization Director Cliff: Very well, now that we are all acquainted, we'll move on to the first agenda. Security, how is the expansion coming along?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Very good, boss. Our head count stands at 539, more than a 50% increase from November. Our SWAT division and Powerpuff Task Force company are operational, and their numbers stand at (flicks through papers) 30 and 10 respectively.

Organization Director Cliff: And how are they deployed?

Chief of Security Blackwater: For the PTF, I've got 6 on B-47, B-48 and B-49, and 4 right here at Charlie-01. The 6 are for keeping an eye on B-47 to 49 of course, while the 4 is at Charlie-01 as reserve and training instructors. As for our SWAT, I've got 10 on the perimeter around The House in the Townsville Suburbs, 10 here and 10 on the city itself.

Organization DIrector Cliff: That's all well and good, but what are they armed with?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Only the best, sir. I've decided on the experimental XM4 Carbine as the mainstay of our SWAT officers and PTF soldiers. From what I gather, that puts us years ahead of the US military. I can also confirm that the Institute will be shipping to us their experimental anti-material sniper rifles within the week. But we'll still be using the tried-and-true MP5s and Mossberg 500s. I have an assortment of rocket launchers, grenade launchers and machineguns in our armories as well, but we won't be touching those until our forces are large enough.

Organization Director Cliff: Excellent. I knew I can count on you. What about the more conventional security officers? What's the progress on their training and deployment?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Excellent, boss, and I'm not just tooting my own horn. They're glad to be getting some new toys after what happened in Charlie-02. I've maintained a strength of 30 around B-47, B-48 and B-49, I have about 20 here and 50 on Townsville duty. The rest are either at HQ or scattered throughout the rest of our facilities around the country.

Organization Director Cliff: Keep scaling the numbers up as you recruit more men, Blackwater, but I need more in proportion on B-47, B-48 and B-49, as well as Townsville itself and our facilities in the vicinity. Our Facilities Manager will keep you apprised of his expansion plans, and the numbers he need for the new facilities. Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard, what about your operatives?

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: I have agents deployed in both local Townsville government and civil service, such as the TPD, as well as the criminal underground in Townsville. The… unlawful half of the City proves to be the harder nut to crack, however. One of my agents is already dead - the last time I checked in with him, he reported that our escaped subjects are gravitating towards Townsville, and that the crime rate there has been increasing over the years despite increased funding in the police and legal departments of the City. He was intercepted before he could transmit his data package via the internetwork.

Organization Director Cliff: Extrapolation?

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: The usual reports I received hints at an unusually well-organized crime, with some of our subjects involved, as well as Foundation agents. I have no numbers, however. There's also reports on a strange cult involved, but I think that's just background noise from one of my more… creative agents. That said, I have nothing on the cause of all this - why crime is better organised in Townsville, why the Foundation is interested in it, and certainly not on how a cult is involved.

Organization Director Cliff: Very well, keep me updated.

Field Researcher Utonium: I think I've had enough of this! (rises from his seat) Why have you situated the Girls and I in a… cesspool such as Townsville!? I've long suspected the city of high crime rates, but this is becoming ridiculous! Did you know (coughs) how many times (coughs again) I've brought the Girls to the city centre? Without being informed of all this? (slumps back into his chair) Why the interest in Townsville?

Organization Director Cliff: (looking crossed) Professor Utonium. I don't mean to pull rank on you, but do not forget that you are no longer the Head of Research, and you will not speak out of turn again. The only reason you're here is because of your hold over subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49, and your expertise in Chemical X, of course. Now, since you've interrupted me with your nagging about the 'Girls' safety, I might as well jump ahead on the agenda and enlighten you.

(Stands up) You see, I plan to put B-47, B-48 and B-49 in the field. I-

Field Researcher Utonium: You can't be serious!

Organization Director Cliff: Professor-

Field Researcher Utonium: They're just little girls! How could you do this!?

Organization Director Cliff: You're being-

Field Researcher Utonium: (ranting) They're only five, physically! Not to mention the fact that they haven't even learned how to count or spell confidently! They're children! Young children, just a step above toddlers!

Organization Director Cliff: (pointing finger at Agent Utonium) Professor, enough! My patience with you is running thin. Either sit your ass down, or you can spend the next few months doing that in a cell while I do whatever the FUCK I want with your 'girls'.

Field Researcher Utonium: (sits down promptly) But- They're just little girls… Even in technological terms, they're prototypes, nothing more.

Organization Director Cliff: Even prototypes have to be tested, Upton. Don't you know that? As a scientist and inventor?

FIeld Researcher Utonium: But please, not out there! Not in a place crawling with psychos! I- I can safely do it in the lab, just not out there!

Organization Director Cliff: What? You mean like this!? (grabs a pile of science reports on his side of the conference table) This shit is useless for the kind of money we're putting into those lab-grown dolls! (throws papers across the table in anger) You took 2 weeks to produce results that could have been gotten out of a single day, and you still have the gall to tell me what to do!?

(The room had become tense, to put it lightly. Only a few faces, that of the Chief of Logistics, the Acting Head of Research, the Head of Psychiatry and S-S and Medical Director Simmons were concerned and sympathetic to Agent Utonium.)

Field Researcher Utonium: The objective of Project Powerpuff is to enhance the capability of soldiers - soldiers who were born, raised and trained naturally and conventionally. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup does not fit into any of those words. Won't we be detracting from the mission?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Sir, I'll have to agree with Utonium here. The logistics of deploying three girls just isn't worth it. We'll be focusing our gigantic infrastructure down on the head of three Girls, when it is more suited to outfit an entire corps of soldiers. Not to mention the fact that those Girls wouldn't know what to do with what we're capable of giving them anyway.

Organization Director Cliff: I'm not convinced. Missions can drift in nature, objectives tailored to changing situations. I'm more acquainted with this than the two of you. Like you said, Utonium. Those three lab rats are all we've got. What's the ETA on our next viable product, Acting Head of Research?

Acting Head of Research Vanum: Never, sir. We're still sourcing for a viable replacement for Professor Utonium. Polymaths with the exact set of scientific background for Chemical X don't exactly grow on trees. I, myself, have a double doctorate in Organic Chemistry and Biomedical Sciences, and yet I can't even make heads and tails of Professor Utonium's research. From what I understand, Chemical X is like the culmination of all of humanity's understand in all of the sciences…

Organization Director Cliff: You hear that, Professor Utonium? Unless you want me to tear apart your little freaky family and put you back in HQ, I don't want to hear it. And if I recall, is this not what you asked for? To be given the chance to raise and study those bug-eyed freaks?

Field Researcher Utonium: (remains silent for a moment, slumped and downcast) They're not bug-eyed freaks. Their eyes are within the limits of the size of human eyes, albeit at the higher end.

Organization Director Cliff: (he smiles triumphantly, as if he has won a major victory) I'm taking it that you're settling for the status quo. Since we're on the subject of B-47 to 49, we'll need to talk about their deployment. Bellum?

Liaisons Head Bellum: Yes, sir. I've spoken with the Mayor of Townsville, but he's hesitant to deal with a, I quote, 'No good, secretive, traditions-defying agency that no one has ever heard of'. He is confident that the local police will be able to 'sort crime out' eventually, 'just as they have done time and again since Prohibition'.

Organization Director Cliff: You say that he's hesitant. Does that mean he's willing to talk?

Liaisons Head Bellum: Yes, sir, and I already did. He, I quote again, 'wants us honest and open about our affairs'. I must point out something else that is quite dire, however.

Organization Director Cliff: And what is that?

Liaisons Head Bellum: He does not believe that our solution even exists at all, and frankly, sir, I don't blame him. I wouldn't believe anyone who'd walk up to me and say that three five-year-olds are going to save a city of four million citizens from rampant crime and corruption.

Organization Director Cliff: (sighs) This is harder than I expected. Have you mentioned that the Townsville Police Department will gain the support of our security forces as well?

Liaisons Head Bellum: As a matter of course, but he thinks they're 'raisins next to a jar of pickles'.

Organization Director Cliff: What?

Liaisons Head Bellum: He's an eccentric old man. He loves his pickles, believing that it helps him think and cope. He meant that our security force is too small to add anything to his massive police force.

Organization Director Cliff: Even after our expansion phase concludes?

Liaisons Head Bellum: Even after.

Organization Director Cliff: Solutions from the floor?

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: I could have him replaced, it's only a matter of how and when: the hard way with a bullet to the brain, or the soft way, through a rigged election.

Liaisons Head Bellum: That could only raise suspicion. Mayor Walcott hasn't been defeated in an election for the past 20 years, and this isn't his first running streak. He's so popular that even the criminal underground can't get to him. News of our actions could even reach the Senate and Oval Office.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: Damn, that could blow our cover.

Organization Director Cliff: Any other bright ideas, people?

Field Researcher Utonium: (his eyes are initially closed, and he is leaning against the table, as if in sheer agony, but then he opens his eyes, and stands up as if with determination) What if we do exactly what this Mayor Walcott wants?

Organization Director Cliff: Now isn't that a breath of fresh air, The Professor Utonium going along with my plans for once. Well, out with it. What do you mean?

Field Researcher Utonium: (Hesitantly) We bring ourselves out into the open.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Have you finally gone insane, Frankenstein? That would leave us vulnerable!

Psychiatry and S-S Department Head Alice: Professor Utonium is very much sane, Blackwater.

Field Researcher Utonium: Trust, Director. We need to earn their trust. We should stop hiding in the shadows. We're growing, aren't we? The Organization is no longer a rat, is it? It doesn't sound like you, Blackwater, that you should be afraid of a little challenge.

Chief of Security Blackwater: (Angered) You! I'm not afraid!

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: I can see some benefits in this too. Logistics wouldn't be such a huge problem if we become a publicly known agency. We won't have to worry about hiding our shipments and activities, making it much faster and easier for us to operate than before.

Field Researcher Utonium: If you want to put Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup in danger, you do it my way. (smiles at Wiggums) Besides, it's hard to keep secret three Girls who can run like cars and lift them too, especially from the reporters.

(There is a great deal of murmuring in the room)

CFO Silverslick: As much as I don't see eye to eye with this Professor Utonium, I believe a public venture could profit us. We will stand to gain unlimited freedom by operating out in the open - expect the floodgates to open in terms of opportunities, data and even cold, hard cash. We'd be an instant hit on the Public Relations side of things - and we just have to work to maintain a good image. It's not so different from running a company.

Organization Director Cliff: (with great hesitation) Fine. (pauses) Fine. We'll go public then. Any suggestions for the name?

Chief of Security Blackwater: How about 'Defense Organization'?

Organization Director Cliff: The United States Defense Organization. USDO. I like it. I'll put it under review - we still have a deployment plan to talk to about. Chief Armory Officer, what are your thoughts on equipping B-47, B-48 and B-49?

Chief Armoury Officer: Sir. I've read Professor Utonium's reports, and for one thing, it looks to me like it'd be pointless to give them any sort of personal protection. It's like they're born with Kevlar helmets and plates already installed.

Field Researcher Utonium: It think you read my reports wrong. I didn't say that the Girls are bulletproof, they just could be. The fact is, I don't know.

Chief Armoury Officer: Wait, (Flipping through papers) didn't your report state that the hardness of their body is just below that of Duranium?

Field Researcher Utonium: Hardness isn't everything, and everything else hasn't been established yet.

Organization Director Cliff: Little wonder why. You shouldn't have gone soft on the testing, Upton.

Chief Armoury Officer: Kevlar helmets, goggles, vests and pads, then.

(Professor Utonium appears burdened with all sorts of emotions. He slumps in his chair again.)

Field Researcher Utonium: (Whose face appears paler than usual now) You're sending them in even if they could get gunned down?

Organization Director Cliff: If you won't test how bulletproof they are, then there's only one sure way to do it: out there where guns and bullets grow on criminals.

Field Researcher Utonium: (Appears to want to say something, but does not)

Organization Director Cliff: And what about weapons?

Chief Armory Officer: They are small, but they are strong. I can hand them some machineguns, and the kickback would be no problem. But… But their size warrants something smaller. MP5s perhaps?

Field Researcher Utonium: (Alarmed) I don't think handing guns out to the Girls is a good idea. I don't like it.

Organization Director Cliff: You don't have to like it, Utonium.

Chief of Security Blackwater: B-47, B-48 and B-49 don't need guns. That would mean training those kids in the use of firearms, kids! We'll get collateral damage, and there are already men who I don't trust with a gun in their hands. Professor Utonium's report stated that they have enough strength to carry cars. Does that mean that they can punch as hard, Upton?

Field Researcher Utonium: (reluctantly) You read it right. Yes, I suppose.

Organization Directo Cliffr: And what about uniforms?

Chief of Security Blackwater: I'm not going to put them in uniforms my men are wearing. I've seen the subjects. I think the professor has the right idea. He color-coded them. Makes it easy to identify them.

Field Researcher Utonium: I didn't color-code them. The Girls picked their favorite colors…

Organization Director Cliff: But what about camouflage and all that kind of combat stuff?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Camouflage is pointless at melee range, boss. (to Chief Armory Officer) make sure everything you give them is color-coded as well.

Chief Armory Officer: Sure thing.

CFO Silverslick: As long as they're well packaged for the general public.

Organization Director Cliff: Now that we've got equipment covered, what about deployment?

Liaisons Head Bellum: Sir, if I may. We could create a hotline linked between Townsville and us. The hotline can be used by all high-ranking members of their government and police force, such as the Mayor himself, the Police Chief and their immediate subordinates.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Those kiddos can be scrambled from their homes on a high-speed transport, and be within the crime scene within an hour. (to Central Motorpool Manager) Suggestions for the vehicle itself?

Central Motorpool Manager: We can get a sports car and armor it up. Their escorts can also be provided with the same high-speed cars. I'm thinking either Ferrari or Lamborghini.

Organization Director Cliff: Why not helicopters?

Central Motorpool Manager: We don't have the landing space for it in the Townsville Suburbs, and landing space isn't guaranteed at the crime scene.

Organization Director Cliff: Make it happen. Professor Utonium?

Field Researcher Utonium: (looks up from the table, sweating)

Organization Director Cliff: How far have you trained B-47, B-48 and B-49 in all the necessary skills for policing crime? I'm talking tactics, recognizing danger and weapons, things like that.

Field Researcher Utonium: I haven't done any of that.

Organization Director Cliff: (Seething) Have you even taught them what a gun is?

Field Researcher Utonium: No. They're just-

Organization Director Cliff: Yeah, yeah, I know. You better get started immediately. Either that, or the criminals of Townsville will do it for you. I'm not slowing my plans down just so you can stay on your moral high horse. (Flips pages on his papers) CFO Silverslick, you said you have a grading system for B-47, B-48 and B-49?

CFO Silverslick: (Opens a binder file) Yes, sir. Just a little inspiration from my time in Wall Street. Debt and credit confidence is measured using a credit rating system, and I think we can apply that to our current… Investments. Based on their performance, we can increase or reduce their grades accordingly, which will represent their ability to take the funding we have invested in them, and turn it into results. This should help streamline our decision-making process.

Organization Director Cliff: I like it. Can you give me a quick overview?

CFO Silverslick: I've simplified my version from the kind used by Fitch. The grades are: Triple A (AAA), Double A (AA), A, Triple B (BBB), Double B (BB), B, Triple C (CCC), Double C (CC), C and finally Triple D (DDD), Double D (DD), D.

Organization Director Cliff: What does it all mean?

CFO Silverslick: Triple A (AAA) represents full confidence while a single D means that the subject is deemed to be completely incapable of performing to our satisfaction, and will likely not do so again in the future. I've already graded B-47 to 49 based on the reports I've been skimming through. Wanna hear it?

Organization Director Cliff: Sure.

CFO Silverslick: B-47 - Buttercup, is it? The fiery red head?

Field Researcher Utonium: Blossom.

CFO Silverslick: Right. You should be proud of her. She's still on AAA.

Field Researcher Utonium: And how did you judge that?

CFO Silverslick: Well, I dropped her to AA after she's created as a 5-year-old, but her learning ability, strength, speed and resilience had more than pushed her all the way to the top. There's almost nothing I can see that will reduce my confidence in her. If there were more grades above Triple A (AAA), I would have given them to her. It's the same for B-48… urm… Bubbles, was it?

Field Researcher Utonium: Buttercup. What about Bubbles? I mean B-49.

CFO Silverslick: Yeah, that's the thing. My system is also comparative. Bubbles isn't doing so hot right now. She's only shown herself to be inferior in every way compared to our two other… Investments. She started at Double A (AA) at birth, dropped to A because of her 'learning difficulties', then Triple B (BBB) when she seem weaker than the others, Double B (BB) when she's seemingly more easily winded than the others, goes back up to Triple B (BBB) when she's shown to be as resilient as her sister products, but loses it again in her second strength test, going down to Double B (BB). In your latest report, you stated her to still be developmentally stunted compared to her… Sister Investments, as well as the most emotionally vulnerable. Also, she's still wetting herself. Now she's at Double C (CC).

Field Researcher Utonium: If that's how lowly you think of her, you're wrong. Your system still needs work, Silverslick. How does Buttercup get a Triple A (AAA) grading? She's been showing early signs of immoral behavior I've been trying to correct.

CFO Silverslick: I'm glad you asked, friend. You see, our… Investments are crime-fighting human platforms, right? Being a liar and knowing how to lie, or at least not reveal the truth, would be an asset to a crime-fighting product, and is good in my books.

Field Researcher Utonium: (shaking his head in disbelief) So tell me, 'friend'. What happens if Bubbles goes all the way down to D?

CFO Silverslick: In the case of companies getting that kind of credit rating, they will likely lose investors, default and go bankrupt. In the case of B-49, well… It's not my call what exactly happens, but I wouldn't want to put any more cash into a failed product. It's just business.

Field Researcher Utonium: (Agitated) What, you're going to kill her?

CFO Silverslick: I didn't say that, I just said that I wouldn't put any more cash into a failed product.

Organization Director Cliff: (To Professor Utonium) I'm sure it wouldn't come to that - as long as you do what is necessary for B-49's well-being. (To CFO Silverslick) You have my full endorsement to implement the grading system.

Field Researcher Utonium: (Shoots up from his chair suddenly and raises his voice feebly) You know, I think I'll take your advice, 'sir', and take some time to recuperate. Away from here. Do you need anything else before I leave?

Organization Director Cliff: No. You may go. And professor?

(Professor Utonium turns to face Organization Director Cliff sluggishly)

Organization Director Cliff: Don't take too long to rest, or your 'Girls' will have to forego your 'fatherly' advice for their maiden mission.

Field Researcher Utonium: I don't need your advice on how to be a father. (Leaves)

(The rest of the meeting is carried out without Field Researcher Utonium, mainly concerning alternative research options, agency restructuring and streamlining, as well as possible inter-agency cooperation)

END TRANSCRIPT

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Purpose

The City of Townsville. Tenement Area. Joe's Convenience Store.

6 DEC 1988. 2341.

When a strange figure in a trench coat entered his joint, Joe did not think to look twice at him. Instead, he returned to his fashion model magazine. Those half-naked girls on paper had been his sole obsession for the past hour. Then it struck him - the man in a trench coat looked weirder than normal. Sure, strange people were always patronizing his store, but whatever he saw just now, drifting through the doors, took the cake. He remembered a short figure, probably that of a regular Chinese fellow, but…

He remembered a paper bag where there should be a head. A paper bag for a head… Dropping his half-naked girls, he reached down for his shotgun, taking it by the handle, then cocked it, peering into the chamber. Loaded. Good. He was always prepared for the day - Townsville had become Crimesville over the course of two decades - he could only remember a clean Townsville from his dreamy childhood. He had been robbed multiple times, and each time prepared him for the next one, until today, when he kept a 12-gauge shotgun under his counter. The only reason why he hadn't skipped town to set up shop in another was because he knew no other home, did not have the cash to do so and… The Mayor. Mayor Walcott, despite being in office for as long as Townsville had entered its two decades long slump and rise of vice, had inspired him. He had seen Townsville through a golden age before that, and continued to be hard on crime after, never giving up, not even when he was all shrivelled up and far beyond retirement age.

"Hello?" he called out, cautiously exiting his place behind the cashing machine. "Anyone there?"

The only answer to his question was the crinkling of plastic. He followed it, crossing from aisle to aisle. When he was close to the aisle where his shop was being raided, he hid behind the head of the shelves with his shotgun at the ready. "Mister, are you shopping or shoplifting?"

No answer except the sound of metal bending under weight. Jumping out of his cover, he pointed his shotgun downrange, only to be met with thin air. Nothing. But something was definitely amiss - someone had taken quite a number of bags of chips and peanuts, and the shoplifter was nowhere to be found. "Where the hell?"

That was when Joe heard breathing - not far away as it should be, but somewhere near him. He looked up at the shelf he was next to just as the metal there had bent and creaked under heavy weight as well, just as Trench Coat Man appeared on top of it. "What da hell?"

It wasn't even a man. It would be more accurate to call him a monkey. A chimp. Except a little bigger than how it was supposed to be. Before he could swivel around and point his shotgun at the creature, the large chimp jumped on him, bashing him in the face. He crashed into a neighbouring shelf, and before he could even think to counter-attack, he was out cold.

Trench Coat Man turned out to be Jojo, in heavy disguise. Dropping from the top of the shelves, he approached the man he had just knocked unconscious. In one hand, he held a basket full of chips and nuts, and he shoved the other into the insides of his trench coat, unslipping a shotgun pilfered from the most hated Organization's armory.

Yet, the look of the man gave him pause. He seemed more innocent than the Bad Men in the Organization who wanted to kill him. His mannerism had advertised that. The shopkeeper had warned him beforehand, and Jojo could tell from his voice that he didn't wish to kill. Professor Utonium, the scientist he hailed as his father, popped into mind. His sagely words were as clear as day, even clearer so because of the photographic memory Chemical X had given him.

"Jojo must listen to Utonium. Jojo must follow his teachings, instructions and words," he mumbled to himself, repeating with numerous synonyms - a verbal tic he had gained from devouring the dictionary and thesaurus Professor Utonium had so generously provided him with while he was put into captivity after the accident that mutilated him.

In the end, Jojo returned his shotgun back into the darkness of his trenchcoat. Instead, he pulled some dollar bills and coins from a pocket and laid them down next to the shopkeeper. What he gave wasn't enough; the Chimpanzee had absorbed enough knowledge of currency to know, but he thought it was enough as an apology.

Without wasting anymore time, Jojo went back to taking what food he could. He chided himself for making an obvious error in his raid; taking the food that his impulse craved, rather than the food he needed. He was still trying to get used to his animal side, his resolve untested by the cold and unnatural environment of a cell, whether it was in the Organization HQ or Charlie-02. To this end, he took a second basket and filled it with as many instant-burgers, sandwiches, bananas and mineral water as he could cram into the plastic container.

Salvaging a roll of duct tape from the human repository, specifically the hardware corner, he taped together the two baskets he had filled with supplies, careful not to let anything spill, and made an improvised plastic crate, which would ease his return journey. Having been living on a scarcity-based subsistence existence as a semi-nomadic urban scavenger, he couldn't help but to grab what he could on his way out and stuff them inside his pocket, things that even his enhanced brain did not, could not process in his haste.

A male human in a winter coat who was just coming in gave a shout of surprise as he raced out into the open and down the street. He had been detected, and his estimates made the probability of an armed response very likely. Weaving through the tenement area on a pre-planned route, he had anticipated this.

Disappearing into an alleyway, he set his plastic crate down by a manhole and removed the cover. He jumped in after that. Pulling a mini-flashlight out of a breast pocket, he shone his way towards his hideout.

He had chosen the sewage system as his residence because of the heat. There was literally no other place that could shield him from the winter… Or at least, there was no other place that could give him warmth and safety both.

Despite the smell of human fecal matter, despite the dirty snow-water he was forced to drink and the trash that surrounded him, he preferred the sewers over the Organization facilities. For at least here, he could bide his time. He could rest.

The past week had been a struggle. He had spent days crossing the Pokey Oaks countryside, evading Organization hunting parties in the snow, fighting the cold more than the humans pursuing him while lugging his precious equipment and supplies - the trench coat he salvaged from one of the dead security officers' belongings was hardly enough. Thank Utonium for his improved physical strength and resilience. He couldn't have survived the pistol shot one of the human females had given him while he was fighting for his freedom and to avenging his fellow Chimpanzees if it weren't for it.

And then he'd ended up in what the humans called a 'city', where unnaturally thick trees of steel and concrete dominated the geometric forest. It was only in the cover of darkness that he dared approach it, and even then, the city's street lights and hordes of pedestrians and cars kept him from making a direct approach. He discovered very early on that even the alleys of the city were unsafe for him to make camp in. The buildings he infiltrated were crawling with even more humans, and so he settled for the sewers.

For days more, he scouted the underbelly of the city, sewers and tenement area both. In the sewers, he discovered little sign of human habitation, and above, too many. With his supplies long gone for a day and his stomach rumbling, he focused his entire being into identifying any human food storage facilities he could find - and found that they usually came with odd names like 'Abdul's Mini-Mart' or 'Walmart' or '7-11' instead of something like 'Supply Storage 3' or 'Organic Perishables B'. He began his raids on his second day of starvation, at midnight… And found his targets to be so much easier than disabling an Organization outpost. As a Chimpanzee enhanced with Chemical W, his understanding of the human world revolved only around the Organization, and with the accident that was Chemical X, his understanding had expanded, but still insufficiently, with only Professor Utonium as his source of information on the outside world.

His veritable father had told him that humans live in tribes of millions, and that they were guarded by thousands upon thousands of security officers. He had spoken of humanity with much optimism, focusing on the good in them - his fight with criminals in the very first alley he explored told him a different story. It seemed as if everything Professor Utonium had told him was proven false - but it didn't even dent his belief in the professor. 'Perhaps he was mistaken, misled, lied to?' was Jojo's consensus. 'Trapped and cornered as he was in the laboratory like me, Jojo.'

Thus, Jojo devised a routine for himself, a routine he found as natural as it could be to an animal (albeit an elevated one) in an artificial, human environment. Yet, there were other kinds of hunger and thirst that peanuts, mineral water and the heat, carried in by human fecal matter, could not satisfy.

Primarily, his lust for revenge. It felt incomplete with the destruction of Organization outpost Charlie-02. If he had his way, he wouldn't have stopped there. In a perfect world, he would have destroyed every Organization facility, killed every single one of their members, especially their security personnel. Perhaps all but one.

Professor Utonium. Secondarily but most important of all, Jojo wanted to reunite with his father or at least find out where he was, if reunification was impossible immediately. Ever since his escape, he could only dream of the worse fates possible for the father. In his nightmares, he saw the professor carried into an incineration chamber, burnt to cinders to be scattered to the wind, as if he never existed before. He would cry on waking up; only, Chimpanzees couldn't shed tears.

Yet, it felt like an impossible task. For resources, he had only enough food to last him a couple of days, three shotguns and a few boxes of shells, pistols he couldn't use - their bullets made starting a campfire easy, however - and a bunch of documents that spoke of where Professor Utonium could possibly be. Not only that, but those documents also spoke of how the professor had begotten more children now, which brought only sorrow to his heart.

Jojo had seen pictures of those children, read reports of them. It seemed as if the professor had forsaken him for them. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, as his father called the girls. But he wouldn't know for certain, dared not think the worse of him, not until he saw it for himself. Yet, a city and the Organization stood between him and his father, and the latter was guarding the professor and the Organizations' new prizes closely.

It would be much easier to just lie down, roll over and wait for death.

That was, until They visited him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: An Extra Ingredient

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

6 DEC 1988. 2012.

By the time they got home, it was already past dinner time. Despite his body crying out for sustenance, the message was lost before it reached Professor Utonium's mind, blocked by the sad state of affairs he had heard about in the week 2 general meeting.

He remained relatively silent even in the car, even when the Girls were practically bouncing around inside, talking about what they had done in Organization Charlie-01 (not that they knew what the place was called).

At least the Girls were in higher spirits, except for perhaps Buttercup. Something was going on with her again, but then again, something was always going on with her. When they got out of the SUV, Blossom and Bubbles were racing into the House. Buttercup had joined the professor again, with her frown for company.

"What's wrong, Buttercup?" the professor asked, then coughed. Another dry cough.

"Nothing, Daddy. I'm sorry. I'll try to look happier next time," Buttercup simply said. The truth had been more complicated than that.

"I want you to be yourself. You can tell me, you know. That's what fathers do. They listen," Professor Utonium coaxed.

"Dad, you're walking really slow. Are you okay?" Buttercup changed the subject.

"I'm… Fine," the professor lied. That made the two of them. By now, even Buttercup could tell that something was wrong, though she decided not to pursue it because she had taken it as fact that her father was invulnerable. "Can you come closer a little though? I think I need to lean on you a little."

"Gladly, Daddy-o," Buttercup opened up unexpectedly, and got up next to him. Although the girl was little more than forty inch tall, Profession Utonium was able to rest a hand on her shoulder, without the insanely powerful girl sagging even slightly. "You feel really hot…"

"Where did you learn that from?" the professor asked, his turn to change the subject. Buttercup had always been the headstrong, precocious one, where Blossom was the smart one, who excelled in whatever rail he'd put her on. Buttercup excelled instead in going off the rails.

"Oh, one of your friends taught me that," Buttercup said. "I think it sounds cool."

The professor didn't say it, but he resented it. After the meeting had ended back in Charlie-01, he had gone to find the Girls back in the security wing. Naturally, he had expected to find them in the 'fun room', either still swimming in the ball pit or bouncing in the air-filled castle.

He had basically flipped out when they were not there. When one of the security officers came up to him, he'd screamed at him and demanded to see his Girls immediately, at the same time accusing Security of abducting the Girls, slugging the officer who was trying to calm him down. He never knew he had that kind of strength in him, especially when he wasn't at his best.

It took three security officers and a SWAT officer to restrain him and bring him to the cafeteria, where a few undercover plainclothes were feeding them sandwiches from a vending machine. He still remembered what they were munching on. Blossom had chosen tuna, Bubbles egg mayo and lettuce and Buttercup took ham and cheese. They each had a cup of water beside them.

'You see, Agent Utonium? No need to resort to violence there,' one of the officers had said.

'Don't mistake the gesture for kindness though,' one of the undercover officers had told him out of earshot of the Girls. 'We were just preventing a Meltdown-3 event that could result in casualties. The subjects said they were hungry and we fed and watered them.'

He knew he had to check on the Girls later. There was no telling what the security officers had done to the Girls.

Buttercup had her own secrets to keep, skeletons in the closet that kept increasing in number. At the cafeteria, she had noticed the men in thick clothes and hard hats not too far away from her, shaking their heads as they spoke. Out of curiosity, she had extended her hearing range once more to eavesdrop.

She didn't have long to listen in, however, because one of the men, who introduced themselves as her Daddy's friends, had interrupted her, saying that she appeared to have 'zoned out'. But what she heard sounded bad. Something to do with them being 'bug-eyed freaks' and something about a 'meltdown event' - she didn't quite understand, but the tone of the men's voice wasn't good. She had heard the same words being said as when Wiggums had visited them. They were 'experiments' and 'subjects'. What does it all mean? Buttercup still had no idea, but it sounded ominous, and she couldn't just ask Daddy, because he knew and didn't tell her, which meant that somehow, he was involved.

Despite his guilt being largely established, Buttercup couldn't bring herself to hate him. After all, he had been selfless in taking care of her, and she knew the word for it too. He had been there ever since she thought the bedroom was the entire world, and even as her capacity to feel as her sisters do dwindled, he remained her only source of comfort.

Back at home, Blossom and Bubbles had taken the initiative and turned on the TV. By the time Professor Utonium and Buttercup was inside, they were already watching a cartoon about some fairy tale land with magical ponies. Buttercup joined them.

"Girls, I'll be making dinner. What would you like to have?" the professor asked.

"Anything, Daddy," Bubbles said distractedly.

"Yeah, anything, Daddy," Blossom repeated, equally mesmerized by the flying Pegasi in their little magic box. Even Buttercup had to concede that the cartoon was pretty amazing, and she was soon absorbed as her sisters were.

"I wish I can fly," Bubbles hoped.

"Don't be silly, Bubbles. If people can fly, we wouldn't need cars," Buttercup chided.

The professor didn't reply, and the Girls didn't seem to mind. As soon as he entered the House, dark thoughts had entered his mind, even darker still than what had been haunting him in the car. It felt as if the world was melting, after what was being said and done at Organization Outpost Charlie-01. It had all already been hard enough that the Organization was pushing him to conduct more and more tests on the Girls, and that he had to lie to them on a daily basis, keep them ignorant of what was really going on. And now, they were going to expose them to things that little girls shouldn't be exposed to.

They were going to sell Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup to a city that couldn't manage its own problems. They were going to put them in the same room with hardened criminals and psychopaths. They would go to places where only the wicked or the most heroic of adults would dare venture to. They would learn about things long before they should, things that could only darken their souls and steal the sparkle from their eyes.

And they were going to suffer, as no little girls should. In his mind, he saw the Girls getting gunned down on the streets, shrapnel and bullets tearing at them. His incomplete view of the Girls' resilience completed the picture; perhaps they were resistant to bullets, but even kevlar could fail easily to the tens of thousands of Newtons of force a bullet could put out. Bones could break under that kind of force even if the kevlar held. He remembered how Bloome, his late daughter, had suffered in an explosion caused by Foundation agents, how her body was torn apart and burnt by chemical fire, and how she suffered for days until she left the world for the great unknown.

It was all too much. He had been thinking about it ever since the day's meeting was over. The ghosts of Christmas past, present and future had been haunting him, following him ever since he boarded the SUV, even before that.

Professor Utonium was resolved not to let it happen again. But he knew that a small little nobody of a scientist wasn't able to do much. Lord knows he had tried, tried really hard to keep the Girls safe. In the meeting, he thought that getting the Organization to open up as a publicly-known agency would dissuade them from deploying the Girls in Townsville. He thought wrong... which meant that there was only one way for the Girls to avoid all that pain and suffering. He could feel himself shutting down from two weeks of overwork, exhaustion and sickness, but by God, he was going to push himself to do this one thing.

Going into the kitchen, he whipped up three bowls of porridge, putting them on the stove. While it was heating up, he went to the nearest washroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and took out an entire box of sleeping pills. As a doctor, he knew exactly how much would work - half a pill would put a 5-year-old to sleep really soundly, and there were thirty of them in the box.

Putting it by the stove, he waited for the porridge to be ready. A single tear drop dripped from his eyes, but he wasn't going to botch it up. Wiping it away, he reminded himself that it was all for the better, and no one was going to hurt them again.

"Dad, I'm still worried about you," Buttercup's voice came from in between the living room and kitchen, shocking the professor. Her eyes went down from his face to the box by the stove. She couldn't read yet, but she thought it seemed out of place. It didn't look like something edible.

"I'm fine, honey. Go back to your sisters. Dinner's almost ready," the professor said, putting on the most cheerful tone possible.

"Are you sure, Daddy?" Buttercup asked again.

"Yes, I'm very sure," he said, before forcing a smile.

"Oh, okay…" the ravenette said, before turning around and walking away.

Professor Utonium tried to make the best possible porridge for them: Eggs, bacon and everything nice. And then he added a little extra ingredients to the concoction: Sleeping pills. Ten of them to each bowl, making sure to ground them down first into fine powder before mixing them into the meals. This way, the taste of the bitter pills would be invisible, and the Girls wouldn't suspecting a thing, completing the illusion of the perfect family dinner.

"Dinner's ready," he said. The Girls were almost flying over to the kitchen when he said so.

"I'm starving!" Buttercup shouted in delight. "Wow, Dad! It looks good!"

"You're always doing the best for us," Blossom said. They sat down around the table. They had long since abandoned the baby chairs when they had gained full use of their bodies.

"I love you, Daddy," Bubbles added.

"I love you three too," he said, as he watched his Girls eating their final meals, holding back his tears desperately. The only reason he could do so was that he believed they were better off this way.

"Aren't you eating, Daddy-o?" Buttercup said in the middle of the meal.

"I'm not hungry," he said, becoming distant. 'So it all came down to this,' he thought. 'So much for a second chance at life. So much for love. The Organization screws everything up.'

It didn't take long for the Girls to finish their meal, with Buttercup finishing last, perhaps because she was putting on her best behavior out of a sense of competition, exaggerating her table manners.

It was only a matter of time now. Next, he considered how he could end it for himself. The pistol in his bedroom, on the roof of the wardrobe, came to mind.

The Girls yawned.

"I'm tired," Blossom said.

"Yeah," Buttercup echoed.

"Me too," Bubbles added.

"Must have been a long day," the professor lied - well, it was technically true. "You Girls had lots of fun, right?"

"Yes," they said in harmony.

"Come on, Girls, let's get into bed," he said before standing up. The Girls did the same, and he shepherded them up the stairs. They were yawning all the way to their room.

"But… What about a bath?" Bubbles asked, before yawning again.

"Maybe tomorrow," the professor said, in a low tone, looking really down. "You can take as long a bath as you want tomorrow."

"Shouldn't we change?" Blossom asked, but she had answered her own question as she yawned again.

They each hopped into bed, in their designated positions, with Blossom at the centre, Bubbles to the left and Buttercup to the right. The professor thought it fitting, that they should go to sleep looking their finest, in their party dresses.

The professor tucked them in, and gave Bubbles her favorite doll, Octi. He sat down on the story-reading chair, then decided that he should do something more. After all, it was the last time he'd be doing it. He went over to the storybook shelf, and retrieved a book, before returning to his seat beside them.

He knew that they hadn't fallen asleep yet. Blossom turned a little. They were still breathing.

"How about a bedtime story?" the professor said, unsure if he would even get a reply. There wasn't one immediately.

"Sure, Daddy," Buttercup said, her eyes shut and probably impossible to open.

"Thanks Dad. Love you," Bubbles said weakly.

And so Professor Utonium read them 'The Ugly Duckling'. But before the titular swan chick could turn into a swan, the Girls were no longer responding with weird, delirious questions. Tears were flowing down the professor's cheeks as he loomed over them. They were no longer moving, like logs that were dead. He didn't know how long he sat there. He didn't even look at the clock. He didn't dare, not for a while. But after some time, he glanced up at the Kitty-clock on the wall, and realized that he had sat there in catatonia for a couple of hours. It was coming to 11 in the night.

"Oh, my baby Girls," the professor cried as he knelt down beside Bubbles, taking her hand and pressing it against his face, wetting it with his tears. She was non-responsive. "I'm so sorry."

But he had to make sure. Of all the things he shouldn't mess up, he had to make sure that this wasn't it. Placing two fingers on Bubbles' neck, he tried to feel for a pulse. It was still strong. He then held his fingers over her nose. Still breathing.

The pills didn't work. With whatever little capacity he had left for science, he thought that it was the same case as with the anaesthetic he had pumped into the Girls when he tested them for the Mohs rating of their skin and flesh. It took almost a hundred times the amount to anaesthetize them. He had merely given them twenty times the dosage of sleeping pills that would put a 5-year-old child to sleep, effectively a fraction of a sleeping pill when compensating for their resistance. How they had fallen asleep over a fraction of a sleeping pill could only be put down to the time of day, their already-present exhaustion and perhaps a lack of resistance to the drug due to first-time usage.

Gingerly, he went out of the room and into his own. Tiptoeing, he groped for his pistol on the roof of the wardrobe. Eventually, he felt the grip of the pistol and pulled it out. He knew how to use the weapon. The Organization had a mandatory self-defence course for every of its member. Pulling the magazine out, he checked for rounds. It was full. 15 rounds. He reinserted the magazine and pulled the slide, turning the safety off.

Returning to the Girl's room, he once again stood looming over them. They were soundly asleep, with smiles on their faces. He trained his pistol first at Bubbles, his arms shaking wildly at the thought of splattering her brains against the very bed he bought them. It would be a messier way to go compared to the sleeping pills.

Then he saw the smiles again, and remembered the happiness they'd brought him, and the happiness they said he had brought them. Despite it all, there was light in the darkness.

"What am I doing?" Professor Utonium said, dismayed at his own actions, lowering his gun. "What have I done?"

"What kind of a father am I?" the professor lamented, regretting the thoughts he'd have of killing his own Girls, his attempt on their lives for their supposed benefit. "I've lost myself. I've become exactly the kind of person the Organization wants me to be." Tears flowed freely form his eyes. He sobbed uncontrollably as he left the room.

Sick to the core, he left the room, and travelled for a time, in shock and daze, down to his lab. There, he sat on his desk, sick of himself such that he preferred it that he stayed as far away from Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup as possible.

"What have I become?" he questioned himself again as he sat there, dazed. At that time, all his fears, all his misdeeds and lies and dark things were swirling in his mind. He then coughed non-stop, and nearly vomited. Everything seemed to be coming to a head, and when he tried to stand up, he felt a wave of numbness spreading over him, his vision blurring. Breathing felt impossible, and the extra heat in his body unbearable. He fell over on the lab floor instead, unconscious. His gun clattered on the ground.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Naga

The City of Townsville. Tenement Area. Sewers.

7 DEC 1988. 0240.

Tossing and turning, pulling at his trench coat, which he had to use as a blanket, Jojo had tried his best to sleep. He had managed only about two hours before the nightmares came once more, jolting him awake. Used to it, he had tried to go back to sleep, but drowsiness was slow to come. Yelping angrily in frustration, he got up, and leaned against the filthy wall of his hideout - a small corner of the sewers, largely untouched by water or human waste, or at least in more recent days.

That was when he heard footsteps in the darkness. He knew what it meant. It was either an Organization hunting party, or retribution from the city. He snatched up one of his shotgun with blinding speed, pumping it to load a shell. His nostrils flared with anticipation for blood and violence as he breathed in and out heavily, psyching himself up for a battle, summoning the primal aggression of his close ancestors.

"Alert. Testy. Battle-hardened. I like that," a female voice said from the dark. The silhouette of a figure stood just beyond Jojo's visible range. There wasn't much light from the above that could penetrate into the sewers, and the mutated chimp's enhanced night vision could only do so much. It wasn't an ability he identify with.

Jojo did not entertain the voice. But he was curious - thus far, he had established that very few humans would want to go down to the sewers with their excrement, unless they were desperate like he was. Yet, this one did. Coming closer, the silhouette revealed herself more and more, until a woman in a trench coat and trilby could be seen. White, brunette, amber eyes - Jojo ran through the ways a human would identify another.

"You can put your gun down. Jojo," the woman said. That she had called him by his name did not go unnoticed. When she was in the light, Jojo had plenty of time to try to identify her. But she wasn't anyone he had met before, not in the Organization HQ, and certainly not in Charlie-02.

"And why should I do that? What reason do I have to listen to you and therefore do what you ask?" Jojo questioned the stranger, leaving her advice unheeded. "How did you know my name? Where have you heard of my name? Speak up! I wish to know where you have gathered the intelligence to utter my name!"

"Why, how rude of me. Of course," the woman obliged. Stepping closer to the mutated chimp, as if unafraid of the shotgun and the chimp behind the gun, she made herself clearly visible. "I am Naga. I represent the Foundation, and we know many things. We have our sources, especially when it comes to you who is important to us. I come to you with nothing but friendship and gifts, both of which you will never get from the Organization."

"And how do I know that you are not lying to me? Which is to say, deceiving me, pulling my leg and backstabbing me?" Jojo interrogated the woman further, still keeping his shotgun up. "How do I know that you are not part of the Organization, those bad men, sent here to kill me, to terminate me as they call It?"

"Because I could have killed you now, and I didn't," the woman claimed, her eyes, piercing and amber, staring into his, conveying both threat and respect. Yet, it seemed like a fairy tale to the chimpanzee. The woman seemed so passive, so vulnerable, the way she stood there, facing the nozzle of his shotgun, with her arms folded behind her back.

"That is rich, bombastic, utterly ridiculous! I am the one with the gun, I hold the power over you, I am in control!" Jojo said, his words stretching far, shaking his pilfered shotgun at the woman.

"You endanger yourself with your own overconfidence," Naga countered, then ordered vaguely: "Lights!"

Immediately upon her command, beams of laser light, ominously red, were immediately switched on, painting little red dots on Jojo's trench coat, far more honest than their source. The chimpanzee counted about eight beams in all. They were coming from behind Naga, from the darkness of the sewers behind, hardly swaying at all thanks to disciplined hands.

"I could have killed you in your sleep, Jojo," Naga declared. Taking off her Trilby, she revealed a tight bun beneath it. Next, she began unbuttoning her trench coat. "But I didn't. Because we're the same."

"If you intend to use your human feminine wiles to seduce me and put me under your spell, you will fail miserably, utterly and completely," Jojo said, his shotgun still up. "I am not attracted or enticed even remotely to your kind and species."

"Don't flatter yourself, Jojo," Naga said, undoing the last buttons of her trench coat and shrugging it off. A lantern lit up behind her, revealing what she had underneath: four arms on shoulders close to each other, and four swords on her belt. Four pistols in four holsters decorated her stomach and solar plexus area. She was wearing some kind of form-fitting skin suit, which looked like it could provide a degree of protection. Behind her, a group of not eight soldiers, but twelve, stood behind her, equipped and clothed without any semblance of uniformity. They were armed with an assortment of rifles and submachineguns, with the only similarity being the laser aiming device. "I told you. We're the same."

"What- Who are you?" Jojo uttered, completely taken by surprise. He finally lowered his shotgun, overwhelmed like never before by a whirlpool of emotions he never felt before that he could hardly make any sense of it. Awe and fear. Familiarity and aversion of the unknown.

"Years ago, they took me from a federal prison. They experimented on me, all in the name of the greater good. They twisted me into something I am not, then they called me a freak, an unhinged psychopath who they should never have used. They tried to kill me… They failed," the woman told her story. If there were any emotions behind it, it was long gone, buried by piles of rotting corpses. "Does any of that sound familiar to you?"

Jojo would be lying if he said he couldn't relate. On the surface, their stories were one and the same.

"You offer me friendship and gifts, and by that, an alliance and material goods, I assume. But tell me," Jojo negotiated, still not entirely at ease. The soldiers behind her were still fidgety, giving him the look. "What do you wish of me? I know enough of humanity to know that nothing is ever given freely, at no charge, but is merely currency, a trade, for something of equal, or similar, value."

"You sure have a way with words, do you?" Naga said, before stretching all four of her arms out as a sign of welcome. "But you're misunderstanding us. We are nothing like the Organization. I simply ask that we band together under a common cause, nothing more."

"And what would that be?" Jojo asked, still cautious of being betrayed.

"Why, the destruction of the Organization, of course!" Naga said as she raised her top two arms with much relishing, as though she could already envision the day when that would happen. "And the guarantee that the rest of humanity will never harm us again! For that, there is much that needs to be done…"

Jojo placed a hand on his nearly non-existent chin, seemingly to think about it. He rolled his eyes around, sideways, up, then back again, doing calculations in his head, estimations, considering all possible scenarios.

"You make a very tempting offer, an enticing one at that," Jojo commented, before sticking out a hand. "But no! At least, not yet, for there is something else that needs tending to, that I must do, for I must complete it before I will ever have the peace of mind to pursue any higher goals, such as the destruction and complete annihilation of the Organization."

"Why, of course, my monkey friend-" Naga agreed, but was interrupted by Jojo.

"Chimpanzee. Pan Troglodyte. There's a big difference," Jojo corrected her.

"Yes, slip of a tongue. For that, I apologize," the four-armed woman said, waving her two right hands. "But I will not dictate the terms of our friendship so strictly. You may go do as you wish. I'm simply asking that you consider my offer seriously. In fact, I can even help you with whatever task you have to do. Whatever you need, I can provide."

"I need to see my father. My sire. My parent," Jojo said, his eyes suddenly distant.

"The Utonium, is it? Yes, a great man. A merciful, soft-hearted man. A stupid man despite his genius, whose naivety will be the death of him," Naga said, and the moment she said it, Jojo's primate face had changed expression. The mutated chimp could not help but to bare his fangs.

"You are not to harm him!" Jojo burst out screaming quite suddenly. Lunging forward in primal rage, but Naga did not back away or so much as flinch, not even for an inch. "You are not to hurt, injure him! Not even a hair on his scalp! If you were to assist me, to help me, you will do it my way and my way absolutely!"

"As you wish… Friend," Naga complied, a patronizing smile spreading on her face. She held out one of her right hands.

"I will call you a friend, a comrade, an ally, after I see my father… And after you demonstrate your honesty, that is to say, your trustworthiness," Jojo said, but took Naga's hand anyway, shaking it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Absence

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 0744.

Soon after the sun's ray crept up on the Girls, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup woke up one after the other, in close succession. Whether they knew it or not, they had the tendency to synchronize their actions at times. Blossom stretched her arms out, yawning once more, just as she did last night after taking ten sleeping pills unknowingly. Buttercup cracked her back, and yawned as well. Bubbles stared out the window, feeling that something was off.

"What a sleep…" Blossom said. Despite lacking an awareness of how time was measured, she could feel its passage. Her hands went up to her hair, but she felt that it was still in good shape.

"Yeah, I feel really good," Buttercup said as she jumped out of bed. "The porridge must have been really good."

"But we slept really long…" Bubbles commented.

"Yeah. We usually play after dinner, but we slept instead…" Blossom reasoned, but thought nothing more of it; her vast intellectual potential remained untapped, and so couldn't be brought to bear on the suspicious.

According to their routine, they had to wait for Daddy to come in, and he would help them with their morning rituals - brushing their teeth, taking a bath. So they waited… And waited. They began playing with their toys, Bubbles with Octi and her company of soft toys, Buttercup with her vehicles, and Blossom with her building blocks.

For 15 minutes they waited, then it became half an hour. Soon, it was an hour, and the Girls grew increasingly worried. And hungry. And thirsty. And 12 hours of sleep had already taken its toll, even if it did refresh them.

"Where's Daddy?" Blossom asked her sisters, as if they knew the answer, even though she knew vaguely that they did not. Her concentration had lapsed from bodily neglect and her tower had fallen; to her, it was a bad sign, even though her tower had always fallen. Perhaps it was the fact that they had fallen faster repeatedly, even though she gave her best.

"I don't know…" Bubbles stated the obvious. The blonde had lost interest in her dolls, such that she'd left them to their own devices at the tea table. Her worry and bodily needs were overwhelming her want to play. "I'm scared."

Buttercup, growing impatient, swept her cars and trucks off the pink kiddy table she was sitting at in a fit of anger. Bubbles jumped at her impulse. Blossom observed Buttercup with some contempt, as well as worry. Her green-eyed sister wasn't anything like herself and Bubbles at all, and she remembered that it hadn't always been that way. "My stomach hurts! Where's Daddy!"

"We have to look for him," Blossom declared, standing up and walking away from her building blocks, towards Bubbles and her tea party.

"Yeah… I'm all icky and smelly," Bubbles said, then looked down at herself. "And we're still wearing yesterday's dress."

"Oh. I forgot about that," Buttercup added. As if needing clarification, she pulled at the hem of her dress. Yep. It was yesterday's party dress - and her senses weren't deceiving her.

"Maybe he's still asleep?" Blossom aired her theory.

"But… He's always here when we wake up," Bubbles countered.

"Can we just go look for him? I'm starving!" Buttercup pushed them.

"Alright. Follow me," Blossom said as she took the initiative and went for the door. Bubbles followed behind her timidly, and Buttercup brought up the rear reluctantly - she never liked Blossom for the way she loved to boss her around, but there was no time to show her exactly how she felt this time.

Reaching up, Blossom twisted the door knob and opened the door. Looking out into the corridor, the thought of going out unsupervised still scared her. Her siblings felt the same too. It wasn't that they were incapable of walking around on their own. It was just that Daddy was always there, just in case. Daddy's presence had always felt good. It felt good to be loved, and cared for. But he wasn't here anymore.

Together, they formed a line and made their way to Professor Utonium's room. As usual, Blossom twisted the door knob and pushed the door open. Inside, they'd expected to find their father in bed, snoring or tossing and turning as he slept. Or talking in his sleep, always feverishly so, and intensely so.

But the bed was bare. The sight of the empty bed drove Bubbles to tears. Daddy had never been this far before. "W-where's Daddy!?" she cried as she crumpled to the ground. "Where is he!?"

"Bubbles! Quit crying! We haven't searched the whole house yet!" Buttercup chided.

"Girls, please, we have to keep moving," Blossom said, starting to sound a little like Daddy when the parental void needed filling. She pulled Bubbles up on her feet, and took Buttercup by the hand, egging them on to keep searching. Buttercup wormed her hand out of Blossom's.

"I know what to do, Bloss," Buttercup said, offended.

They searched the upper floor, including the washroom and spare rooms. They turned up nothing. No clues at all, and certainly no Daddy.

"He must be downstairs," Blossom surmised.

"It's not like him to leave us alone like this," Bubbles cried in despair, wayward tears still dripping.

Buttercup said nothing more. In her mind, she was thinking dark thoughts, things that no little girls should have to think about. Conspiracies played out in her mind, even though she didn't even know the word for it. She'd heard things on two occasions now. They were experiments. Subjects. As if they belonged in the lab. True realization was far away, still, but she understood the negative connotations.

Going down the stairs, they canvassed the living room. Then Blossom had an epiphany.

"Bubbles, Buttercup. What if we… I don't know, break up? Go our own way? We'll find Daddy faster that way," she proposed. It was based on a game they had played before with the professor. Hide and seek, it was called. Only, they had played it in their own room. Now, they had to apply it to a much larger area.

"Good idea…" Buttercup hated to admit it, but she did. Bubbles merely nodded.

"Bubbles, you go down to the lab," Blossom ordered. "Buttercup-"

"I'm taking the kitchen," Buttercup volunteered rather than be bossed around again.

"And the office, Buttercup. I'll go to the laundry room and backyard," Blossom finished up, but when she did, the three Girls simply stared at each other. "Well? Go!"

And they were off. Owing to the emergency (as well as the gnawing sensation of hunger and thirst), they each decided on their own to break their father's speed limit rule, running at super-speed to expedite the search. Blossom disappeared into the laundry room, Bubbles blinked to the front of the lab blast door, but had difficulty opening it because she hadn't done it before, while Buttercup sped into the kitchen.

But something else was on Buttercup's mind. Professor Utonium had discarded something the night before yesterday, and she would have investigated it had it not been for the professor's tests and yesterday's early bedtime. It was something that Wiggums had given away, she remembered clearly from what she heard. Going to the waste bin, Buttercup stepped on the pedal and opened it up. There was a heart-shaped box, dirtied by yesterday's trash. Picking it up and sweeping off the waste from yesterday's cooking off the surface of the box, she opened the lid.

Inside, there were rows of chocolate. They had avoided melting because of the generally colder temperatures of the winter, and they had avoided contamination because they were sealed. They were still fresh. Buttercup didn't mind the fact that it was taken out of the trash, even though she knew what her sisters and Daddy would say. Her stomach rumbled, and so Buttercup picked up a lump of chocolate and put it into her mouth.

Sweetness exploded inside. She chewed heartily. Then ate another. And another. 'Why did Daddy throw these away?' she thought as she kept eating. She couldn't stop herself at all. 'Why didn't Daddy let me enjoy these… Things?' She didn't have the word for chocolate. They hadn't been introduced to it yet, and Buttercup was the first to discover it.

The chocolate didn't just feed Buttercup through the stomach. It fed her mind, fuelled the conspiracies she'd been thinking of.

While Buttercup was in the middle of gorging on the chocolate, Bubbles was able to let herself into the labs, and Blossom had gone into the backyard, searching desperately any nook and cranny she could find. Buttercup took her time, opening every cabinet and drawers in search of Daddy. But he was nowhere to be found in the kitchen. He certainly couldn't fit in the drawers. She took her time, because the chocolate was so good… And the beginnings of dislike for her Daddy were stirring. Before, she had nothing but good thoughts and feelings for him no matter what perceived wrong he had committed against her, but now, the conspiracies were beginning to weigh heavily on their relationship. That Daddy would deny her chocolate, which was so good for her now especially when she was starving, was troubling her. The treat was ecstatic, and the thought of betrayal bitter.

Then came a blood curdling scream from below. Bubbles' scream.

Despite the urgency of it all, Buttercup took a little time to stuff more chocolate into her mouth before dumping the heart box back into the trash bin. Then, as she chewed with difficulty, having bit off more than she could chew, she raced through the airlock and down the stairs. Blossom was already there, naturally.

But so was Daddy. And he was on the floor.

"Dad!" Buttercup cried as she flew down the stairs (not literally, not yet). "Wha- But- He- W-what happened!"

Bubbles had found him near his desk, lying down not far from his chair, as if he'd tried to get up but had fallen over. A tile or two away from his hand was the 'gun' that he said was dangerous. He had planted his face on the floor, and despite this, hadn't moved since. Blossom turned him over to a more comfortable position while Bubbles cried over him, wailing for him to wake up.

"What do we do!" Buttercup cried, her own tears dripping. Again, being caught off-guard by something concerning her Daddy, she couldn't help but get emotional.

Blossom was holding back tears, trying to figure out what to do. Daddy had always said that she was the smart one. And now, her sisters certainly weren't the ones doing the thinking, being busy panicking or crying their hearts out. She felt the professor's forehead. It was burning hot. He seemed like he was in huge trouble.

All this while, Professor Utonium had been hiding the fact that he was sick, letting his illness fester. Blossom's waterworks was finally out of control – the fever must have been torturing him for days, and yet all her Dad could think about was her siblings and her.

There was only one thing that she could do. She was hesitant about breaking her Daddy's rules again, but there was no other way. She had always prided herself in being obedient, in being the good girl that Daddy was proud of… But now, in order to be good, she had to be bad. In this moment of crisis, she was beginning to see that the world wasn't all black and white.

"Girls, I'm going out!" Blossom told her sisters after wiping away the last of her tears.

"But… To where? Daddy's here!" Bubbles cried – she had a far more ample supply of tears. She was afraid of losing anymore family members now.

"You can't! It's- it's dangerous, and not just because Dad says so!" Buttercup warned, finally confessing to someone what she knew, albeit in a way that wouldn't truly expose her. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get the neighbors," Blossom said, then looked to Buttercup, who was more in control of herself than Bubbles, even if she was equally clueless as her on what to do. "Buttercup, stay with Daddy and Bubbles. I'll come back as fast as I can."

"Blossom, no! At least let me come with you!" Buttercup objected.

"Don't leave Daddy and Bubbles alone, Buttercup!" Blossom mandated before running to the stairs and up, at breakneck speed.

Chapter Text

A/N: Refer to glossary below for the definition of the radio commands used by the PTF.

Chapter 21: Meltdown

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 0905.

Unlike Bubbles, Buttercup was in control of herself. Soon after Blossom was gone, she was able to calm down, even turn off her emotions when she realized that panicking wasn't going to accomplish anything.

The ravenette would have done something for Daddy if she knew how. Instead, her eyes wandered in the lab as she waited on her sister. Then her eyes caught something black on the floor. The pistol that the professor was holding before he fell unconscious.

'Didn't Dad say that this thing is dangerous?' Buttercup thought as she padded over to the pistol and picked it up. The handle fit pretty well with her hand, as though it was made for her. Thankfully, her finger wasn't on the trigger, as the safety was off, had been since Professor Utonium had decided that he should shoot Bubbles in the forehead to end her suffering before it began.

The knowledge that she was holding onto something dangerous made Buttercup feel powerful, somehow. It felt like she was on the treadmill, running at 28 miles per hour - better than her sisters - or carrying 500 pounds of steel when her father could only manage 150 at the most, barely. The power felt ecstatic.

But Blossom would be back. Buttercup knew what she was going to do if she saw her with the pistol. Racing up the stairs and out of the lab, emerging into the living room within seconds, and then up to the second floor and into her room within another few seconds, Buttercup wondered where she could hide the gun. The wardrobe? The mirror drawers? It seemed as if there were no place private enough for such a prize. Eventually, when she knew that time was of the essence, she threw it below the bed, on the side she slept on. With that, she rushed back down to the lab, at twice the speed she clocked in the speed test without knowing it.

Meanwhile, Blossom ran out of the front door, slowing down on the lawn as she was unwilling to break yet another of her father's rules: No super-speed outside The House. She ran towards the 'neighbors' place, consisting of the unmarked van and the small bus behind it, waving her arms at the windows. "Help! Help! Please!" she shouted.

On the driver's seat of the unmarked van was Agent Blake (code-name in force), enjoying a cup of hot coffee while reading a guns magazine, unaware that one of the subjects he was supposed to guard was running towards him. With Professor Utonium on the job, it was something that never happened. He remained ignorant until his partner grabbed him by the arm.

"Sir, it's B-47! Three o'clock!" he shouted. Agent Blake turned his head so fast that some of his coffee spilled.

"Shit. Shit!" Agent Blake shouted, before setting aside his cup of coffee so roughly that more had spilled. Pulling the shotgun beside him out, he cocked it.

"The hell is it doing!?" his partner shouted.

Blossom had run all the way up to the unmarked van. "Help! Please!" she repeated, and was now banging on the door, perhaps a little too hard. Agent Blake could not hear her cries of help, but he could feel his van shaking and creaking slightly.

"All PTF units, all PTF units, scramble!" Agent Blake ordered. Being the lieutenant on duty, he wasn't going to let the subjects go rogue on his watch.

"We have Bravo-four-seven on the loose! I say again, Bravo-four-seven is on the loose!" his partner shouted into his radio.

This was it. To leave his vehicle now would be like rolling a dice. He could have sworn that his life was playing like a movie right before his eyes. But he'd lived a pretty good life. Being in his late forties, he was at the height of his career. He had lived a full life in the armed forces and the Organization. He had no children, a few flings, but he felt like he'd lacked for nothing. The things he'd seen, history unfolding, would last him beyond a lifetime. But he would be seeing plenty more, little did he know.

Opening the door, he climbed out. His partner did the same. He'd decided not to go out with his gun blazing, as he'd read the reports. B-47, B-48 and B-49 were largely pacified. Compared to earlier subjects, they were incredibly passive, considering that they hadn't killed anyone in the last two weeks.

"Erm-" Agent Blake stumbled as he faced down Blossom, who was only just realizing that she had ran out of The House without her jacket, and was freezing in the open. However, it wasn't as bad as her Daddy had claimed, for some reason. "Hey, forty-seven - I mean - kid, what's going on?"

In the meantime, the back of the van had opened, and out poured six other plainclothes officers.

"Please, it's my Dad!" Blossom pleaded with Agent Blake, tears falling once more. Turns out, she did have an ample supply of it after all. Just the mere thought of the way her father was lying in the lab, unresponsive, was enough to set her off again. She did love him so dearly. "He's, he's-"

Despite being hard as nails as the Vietnam War, despite being a hardened veteran of the Organization required, her tears had moved him unexpectedly. It was just the way she looked – seemingly helpless and lost, clearly and very upset. He knelt down to bring his sunglasses-covered eyes down to her level. He removed his aviator sun-glasses and stuffed it into his pocket. "What happened to your Dad?"

At the same time, he was very well aware of the possibility that B-47 could be tricking them, leading them into a false sense of security, to try to ambush and kill them. It'd happened before with some of the older subjects in the previous iterations of Chemical X. His training and experience had beaten that brand of paranoia deep into his mind, and it was reinforced time and again.

"H-he's lying on the floor, and- and- He's not moving-" Blossom struggled to explain, fighting too many things at once to do a good job of it – her own emotions, the slight cold, the fact that she was speaking to strangers… But then again, she didn't need to do that well a job. "H-h-he's s-sick and I just- I don't know what to do!"

The SWAT bus had opened its doors, and out came six PTF soldiers. Like their SWAT counterparts, they were armored from head to toe in tactical black but with no gray trimmings, armed to the teeth. One of them even had a K-9 dog, a German Shepherd, with him. Four of them had XM4 Carbines, another was armed with an MP5 and the last, a Mossberg 500 shotgun. All of them knew that this 'Blossom' could easily kill them if she wanted to. They spread out, tense and gripping their weapons tightly.

Blossom, feeling miserable and afraid, alone and cold, lunged at Agent Blake for a hug. The agent gasped, thinking that Blossom was attacking him. It'd looked the same to his fellow officers and the PTF soldiers on site. The soldiers raised their weapons, getting ready to fire-

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!" Blake's partner shouted while waving for them to stand down, his own pistol out.

"It's horrible!" Blossom cried into Agent Blake's jacket, melting in his arms. The security officer remained stiff, unsure of what to do. He had never really dealt with children before, much less one who was grown in a lab with superpowers to boot. But natural instinct took over, and Blake hugged her back. It wasn't that he was completely clueless. It's just that he had to reach all the way back to his childhood to remember how kids should be treated, and in the moment, he couldn't help but to think of B-47 as a kid.

"We'll take a look at your Dad," Agent Blake said. She was still wrapping herself tightly around him. And she was strong. Very strong. "K-kid… You can let go now. It's alright."

Blossom sniffled a little. "Okay... I'm sorry I cried on you."

"It's fine," Agent Blake said before straightening up. He then turned to his partner. "Fields, update Charlie-01." then to the mic on his jacket: "All PTF forces, prepare to breach The House. Go up to threat level Meltdown-1."

Agent Fields, his partner, went over to the unmarked van and picked up the radio there. "This is PTF-01 at The House. We are at Meltdown-1, over." radio chatter came from the other end. "Agent Utonium is described by Bravo-four-seven to be down. We are moving in to investigate and secure Utonium, over." more radio chatter came as a reply. "We will update you on the move, over and out."

The PTF soldiers ran into position, taking cover on either side of the main door. The plainclothes officers, more lightly armed with only pistols and the odd shotgun, fell in behind them.

Agent Blake knelt down again, putting a hand on Blossom's shoulder. "I think it's best that I carry you. Besides, you're not wearing anything but a dress…"

"Thank you… Mister…" Blossom said, and only realized that she didn't know her neighbor's name.

"You can call me Blake," the Agent introduced himself.

"Thank you, Mr. Blake. Please help my Daddy…" Blossom said, then held her arms out. Agent Blake slung his shotgun on his shoulder, then took her by the armpits and heaved her off the ground.

But it wasn't out of concern that Agent Blake had held her in his arms. He didn't want her to see exactly what was going on. And Blossom did not know it, but he had removed his backup pistol from its holster on his ankle while he was bending down, and he was wielding it even as he carried her towards The House. It was insurance to him; if B-47 and her sister subjects were trying anything funny, he could just empty his pistol into the one he had in his arms. Blossom was a hostage without knowing it.

"All Bravo-Papa units, we are at Meltdown-1. Stay on alert and await further instructions, over and out," Blake ordered into his jacket microphone as he walked closer to the house, towards the left side of the door.

"PTFs in position, sir," one of the soldiers reported into the radio, to Blake through his security earphone. Blake picked up his steps, jogging over to one half of the team getting ready to storm The House.

"Agent Blake to all PTF and Bravo-Papa units, sitrep is unknown. Status of Bravo-four-eight and Bravo-four-nine unknown. Bravo-four-seven is in custody and not in Meltdown-2," Agent Blake briefed all the men in his area. Blossom, in his arms, was too upset to even try to decipher what he said, assuming that it was just adults talking. "PTFs-" Agent Blake was about to give the order to breach when he stopped. Things could go sideways easily, and it would depend on him to keep casualty at zero. He looked at Blossom, who buried her face in his shoulder so innocently, so far a non-threat, and decided that force wasn't a solution… At least not yet.

"PTFs, Set A Good Example. No property damage, no force unless Bravo-four-eight and Bravo-four-nine are in Tantrum-2," Agent Blake ordered. "Move!"

"PTF-1, going in," the PTF soldier taking point echoed as he opened the front door from the side and pointed his XM4 Carbine rifle into the living room, scouting for any hostiles. "Clear! Move!"

"Secure the living room and await further orders," Blake ordered. The men streamed into The House, taking loose positions all over the living room. As ordered, they tried their best not to touch anything, leaving the living room pristine. Agent Blake strolled in, his backup pistol still clutched tightly in a hand, with Blossom none the wiser.

"You have a name, right, kid?" Agent Blake asked. He had read the reports, of what Professor Utonium had named them, but he just couldn't remember the names at all, and it was partly because he hadn't really tried.

"It's Blossom," the girl said, her voice slightly muffled by his jacket.

"Okay, Blossom. Well met. Where's your father?" Agent Blake asked.

"H-he's in the lab," Blossom said after a sniffle.

It was a tough call. The laboratory was in the basement, accessible only by one entrance, a stairwell that would act like a speed bump. Then there was the rest of The House. Blossom had claimed that her father had just fallen ill, but he wasn't about to take any chances. For all he knew, there could be Foundation agents or escapee subjects working with B-47, B-48 and B-49 to secure their extraction, or even Organization dissenters looking to sabotage their greatest project yet.

"PTFs, secure the lab. Watch for Bravo-four-eight, Bravo-four-nine and Utonium. I say again, do not Play unless Bravo-four-eight and Bravo-four-nine are in Tantrum-2 and Meltdown-2. Standby for instructions in case of a Run Away. All security officers, do a room-by-room search of the Play Area," Agent Blake ordered.

The Powerpuff Task Force soldiers, like a well-oiled machine, got into position on either sides of the lab airlock doors. Blake, with Blossom, got behind one of the soldiers. There were six in all, and Blake thought that the odds weren't good. However, looking at Blossom, he was starting to believe that, perhaps, there was no need for odds to begin with.

"Go!" Blake ordered. The leading soldier pulled open the door, scanned the airlock, before leading the pack in. He then opened the second airlock door, and started descending the stairs.

"Kitchen clear," one of Blake's officers reported.

"Office clear," another of Blake's officers reported.

The PTF soldiers descended the stairs in a slightly staggered formation, close to one another, so that they could all get their guns to bear on the front.

It was like descending into the underworld. The lights for the stairwell was neither bright nor dim, functional. All the men and one woman was afraid, but they kept it all to themselves. Still, they stuck to their guns, even if their confidence in it were diminished by reports that the Girls could be bulletproof, in addition to the fact that they could run them down like trucks.

There was light below. They were close. Emerging out into the open, they heard a sort of high-pitched crying. "I've got visual on the Bravos," the point-man said. Bubbles was still wailing over Professor Utonium while Buttercup was on his chair. She jumped to her feet in alarm when the 'neighbors' turned out to be something she didn't expect; looking exactly like the men in thick, hard clothes, hats, goggles and shoes who she saw in Organization Outpost Charlie-01, who she had grown to dislike over what she had heard when she eavesdropped.

Still, Buttercup had a strange fascination with them. Their clothes and 'toys' appealed to her in a way that couldn't be described. The closest she could come to was that they looked 'cool'.

The PTF soldiers fanned out, forming a flat V-shape around the other two Girls, their weapons trained on them. Agent Blake walked past them, less afraid, and put down Blossom so that she could join the others.

"Girls, I've brought the neighbors!" Blossom said to her sisters.

"Please help Daddy, he's - he's-" Bubbles could barely express herself through her tears, which were still freely flowing. She couldn't finish her sentence before going back to crying her eyes out again.

It didn't look like a trap. B-47, B-48 and B-49 were all present and accounted for, which meant that none of them were laying in ambush. The subjects had not fallen into any kind of formation to speak of, nor used any opening tactics to start a battle, or to throw a 'Tantrum-2' event, as they had coded it as.

"Backyard clear. No Hotels so far," another of the plainclothes officers from above reported.

"Level 1 bathrooms clear of Hotels," yet another reported. "Proceeding to level 2."

"Sir..? Instructions?" One of the PTF soldiers inquired. It was almost a Mexican stand-off, except that the subjects were staring at them with no weapons in their hands (they were the weapons, in fact), and no intention to start a fight.

Agent Blake was already sweating. In his mind, which was trained for operations and combat and subterfuge, it seemed as if it was all too easy, all too uneventful. His eyes darted between the three subjects of Project Powerpuff. Had he made a mistake by releasing Blossom?

"Stand down. Corporal Zach, examine Utonium. Sergeant Cromwell, your radio pack," Agent Blake ordered. One of the Powerpuff Task Force soldiers came up to him and reached behind his shoulder to pull out a phone-like device attached to his backpack, which contained a communications device. He handed it over to the commanding officer.

Corporal Zach, the designated medic of the squad, unstrapped a kit with a red cross printed over it and set it down beside Professor Utonium, who was still unresponsive. Bubbles was still lying on top of the professor, so the medic motioned for one of his escorts to carry her off.

"This is Agent Blake, calling Outpost Charlie-01, over," Agent Blake said into the comms device. Radio chatter answered back, nearly inaudible to everyone else. "We have secured Utonium and Bravo-four-seven to nine, over,"

"No, we are dropping off from Meltdown-1 and there is no Tantrum event, over," Agent Blake said cryptically. More radio chatter replied him.

"Eyaaaaah!" it was as though a wild scream had tried to prove him wrong. Turning around to the source of it, he saw that it was B-49, known as… Buttercup, was it? No, it was Bubbles. The blue one. One of the soldiers had tried to pick her up. She flailed around like a mad girl for a while before pushing him back. The soldier stumbled a few feet before regaining his balance. "I want to stay with Daddy!"

Weapons were raised at Bubbles, but she seemed ignorant of it all as she returned to her father.

"Forty-niner, you are hindering my work!" the medic shouted at the blonde girl. "Back the hell off!"

"Corporal Zach!" Agent Blake shouted, jogging over to the unmoving Utonium, afraid that there would violence when everything had seemed promising in the beginning. "Bubbles, you need to give… erm… my friend some space to help your father." Bubbles remained where she was. Then Blake had an idea. "Blossom, be a good pal and take your sisters up to the living room."

Although now was not the time, Blossom was thrilled to hear the word 'pal'. She had never made any friends before, something which Daddy said should be common for children like them. Coming up to Bubbles, Blossom tugged her by an arm. "C'mon, Bubbles. I brought the neighbors to help. There's nothing more we can do now."

"Listen to your 'sister' or your daddy's gonna die because of you," Corporal Zach the grim medic added. He'd only made Bubbles cry even harder.

"Zach!" Agent Blake chided. Bubbles relented, letting Blossom lead her to the stairs. Blake could see the look on her face, and it was the face of utter misery if there was one. Despite never having children nor the time to see any of his nieces and nephews at all, the look of it broke his heart slightly.

"Buttercup, come on," Blossom said to Buttercup, who had stubbornly refused to budge from where she was standing. As the thought of being alone with seven strangely dressed adults was unappealing, Buttercup decided to do as Blossom dictated… For now. Together, the three sisters held hands, with Blossom in the middle, and ascended the stairs.

GLOSSARY OF ORGANIZATION RADIO TERMS (Extract from Organization Security Handbook)

Bravo-four-seven: Refers to B-47, also named Blossom by Agent Utonium.

Bravo-four-eight: Refers to B-48, also named Buttercup by Agent Utonium.

Bravo-four-nine: Refers to B-49, also named Bubbles by Agent Utonium.

Bravo-Papa Units: Border Patrol Units. Squads of security officers around the borders surrounding The House.

PTF: Powerpuff Task Force. Referring to an elite company designated to protect, subdue or terminate B-47, B-48 and B-49.

Meltdown-1: Refers to any situation in which any or all of B-47, B-48 and B-49 are somewhat emotionally distraught or expressing desire to do restricted activities.

Meltdown-2: Refers to a situation in which B-47, B-48 and B-49 are very emotionally distraught and rebellious

Meltdown-3: Refers to a situation in which B-47, B-48 and B-49 are inconsolable and cannot be placated.

Tantrum-1: Refers to a situation which might cause B-47, B-48 and B-49 to utilized their enhanced abilities to cause harm and/or damage. Also refers to situation in which B-47, B-48 and B-49 are using their enhanced abilities for innocuous reasons.

Tantrum-2: Refers to when B-47, B-48 and B-49 are using their enhanced abilities to cause harm and/or damage.

Tantrum-3: Refers to when B-47, B-48 and B-49 are unrestricted in their use of enhanced abilities to cause harm/damage.

Run Away: Refers to a situation in which any or all of B-47, B-48 and B-49 have escaped or gone AWOL and/or gone rogue.

Show A Good Example: A general order given to all units operating around B-47, B-48 and B-49 not to use force unless provoked with deadly force by the subjects.

Play: A general order given to all units operating around B-47, B-48 and B-49 to use standard armaments to combat or subdue subjects.

Show A Bad Example: A general order given to all units operating around B-47, B-48 and B-49 to use any and all means to terminate or subdue the subjects.

Play Area: Combat Zone / Fire Zone / Contact Zone

Chapter Text

A/N: (17 JUL 2018) Hi guys! First of all, thanks for reading! As this is becoming a massive project that is more 'series' than novel, it would be great if I can get some reviews and feedback concerning... Anything really. The direction, overall tone and motif, character, etc. Let me know how this fanfic is doing, and if you have any suggestions, tell me about it.

Chapter 22: Governor

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 0924.

"You may speak freely. We've secured this line against outside intrusion."

"Yes sir, Utonium is severely compromised," Agent Blake said into the phone of the comms device, which the communications officer of the PTF had loaned to him.

"How bad?" the voice on the other end asked. A gravelly voice that wouldn't be out of place in a mass grave.

"The medic had a look at him. High fever, possibly caused by severe dehydration, weight loss, possibly caused by malnutrition. He appears to be having the beginnings of some sort of flu. The medic reported liquid congestion in his airway. The high fever could also be the result of some disease." Agent Blake reported.

"Can you be more specific with the diagnosis?" the disembodied voice asked.

"No, sir. Our medic's good for only first aid. We need a real doctor," Agent Blake said. "And the only one in The House is the patient."

"I'll send someone over. Has your medic done anything to treat Agent Utonium?" the voice on the other end inquired. "He's a critical asset even if he's stubborn and too idealistic for his own good."

The airlock doors of the lab had just opened the moment the man on the other end of the line had asked that question. Corporal Zach and another PTF soldier was just carrying Professor Utonium by the arms over their shoulders. They were shuttling him out of the airlock, then across the living room. He was half-naked and completely wet. He was also completely out of it, mumbling incoherently in his time in the void.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were seated on the sofa, guarded by most of the security force mustered at The House. Three PTF soldiers, ominously black with their bodies crowded with equipment, deadly or accessories to murder, stood guard in front of them. The two single-seaters on either side of the Girls' sofa was occupied by suits, one of them with a shotgun. The rest of the plainclothes were in the kitchen. Only the K-9 handler and one security officer was outside, guarding the main entrance to the house.

The Girls were gazing at the professor with great sadness and worry in their eyes. Bubbles, for want of comfort, lied down in Blossom's lap, and Blossom held her. Buttercup folded her arms, seemingly stoic, frowning at the adults in black standing before her. Agent Blake studied them with interest, noting that they each had grown and developed their own personalities remarkably quickly.

"Yes sir, the medic has given Utonium a shower at the decontamination shower in the lab to bring his temperature down. He's going to hook him up on IV to rehydrate him that way," Agent Blake reported, while still keeping an eye on the Girls. He had kept his voice down - he wasn't sure how much they could understand his chatter, and he didn't want to agitate them any further.

"Good. I'll keep you posted on the 'real doctor', but I'll likely send over a full medical team to assist," the gravelly voice on the other end promised. Agent Blake listened but continued to observe the Girls. 'Are they wearing the same dress as yesterday?' he realized, and managed to put two and two together. With the professor incapacitated, B-47, B-48 and B-49 will no longer have a dedicated caretaker to cater to their every need. To his security-trained mind, it meant that there would no longer be someone there to pacify them, which meant that they might go out of control, possibly resulting in a Meltdown and thus Tantrum event, resulting in a Run Away and casualties, likely catastrophic. "Is there anything else?"

"Sir," Agent Blake's mind raced as he tried to figure out how to phrase his concern. His voice took on an alarmed tone that he could not help. It was like standing in front of a nuclear bomb counting down from a few minutes. "I insist that you send in a replacement for Agent Utonium immediately. They look like they've been neglected since yesterday, and if this goes on long enough, there could be consequences."

"Oh," the voice on the other end sounded just as concerned. "Well, we hadn't thought of a replacement for him. I'll escalate this to the Head of Psychiatry and Social Services, Alice. She'll know what to do. Knowing how things go, it'd be a few days before we can send someone down. She's always meticulous about matters concerning welfare."

"That's good to hear, but sir," Agent Blake said. His throat had become dry. "What about now? What about the few days while we wait on the ETA of the new caretaker?"

"I'm afraid you're it, officer," the gravelly voice on the other end said gravely. Then, nothing more. It was like getting hit by a truck.

Agent Blake turned his head to regard B-47, B-48 and B-49 once more. Blossom had taken to staring at him blankly with Bubbles in her lap, who had gone back to crying. Buttercup looked like an outright brat at this point, but she wasn't just any brat – she's one with thousands of pounds of firepower at her fingertips – and she looked like she was in a terrible mood, probably because she had nothing to eat or drink for two hours ever since waking up. She gave him a scowl with her arms folded when their eyes met. Agent Blake broke eye contact right away.

"Sir, I'm begging you. Send someone immediately, please!" Agent Blake pleaded. "You can't do this to me!"

"Actually, I can. Says here on my vest that I'm the Chief of Security. Sorry, Agent Blake," the voice said dispassionately. "You have your orders. Just hold out for a few days until we sort this out. Keep your fingers crossed for Agent Utonium. Maybe he'd be all better in a couple of days. Maybe."

"Sir, I'm a soldier and a security officer. I'm trained to deal with enemy combatants and criminals and-" Agent Blake was on full-on panic mode. "Look, I'm not qualified to deal with children, especially… Them."

"What, you can't beat a geek?" his contact, who was actually Chief of Security Blackwater, mocked. "Just do as you're told, Agent Blake. You've got two squads of personnel with you where Agent Utonium was alone. Over and out."

"Sir, wait! Please!" Agent Blake tried to get his contact back, but he was already gone. "Shit." There was a lot of thumping on the stairs to the second floor. They had just managed to get the professor up to the second floor and into his bedroom.

He turned to look at his new responsibilities - Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, as they were named. He tried smiling at them, but they didn't smile back - probably because they were utterly miserable. Failing that, Agent Blake did not even know where to start. Walking up to them, he sat down on the coffee table, in front of them. They stared at each other silently for a few seconds. The soldiers and officers around him stiffened up, always ready, always worried that the shit would hit the fan.

"So, how are the three of you doing?" Blake opened up, but immediately regretted his opening line.

"I'm worried, really worried, Mr. Blake. What if Daddy dies?" Blossom said grimly, immediately calling to attention her grasp of concepts that a five-year-old should know… Except that she was little more than a two-week-old.

"I don't want to do anything until Daddy gets better," Bubbles, who was still lying on Blossom's lap, sulked.

"Are you going to do something to Dad?" Buttercup said. Agent Blake couldn't decide if it was an accusation or a simple question as to how they were going to help.

"Your father will be fine. He's in the care of Corporal Zach-" Agent Blake explained, but was cut off by Bubbles.

"I don't like him," she had said. To Agent Blake, it was a red flag, like a worm infestation ready to burst out of a gangrenous wound. He had to fix it, but how? How does one speak to a child without getting her all worked up? He had literally zero experience with such things.

"He may be gruff, but his heart is in the right place," Agent Blake explained, then decided that they might not understand. "He cares, just that he doesn't show it. Like you, Buttercup."

Buttercup's brows were arched, her arms still crossed.

"Hmph! No I'm not! I'm nothing like Zach! I just want Daddy!" Buttercup said, proving his point thoroughly. The raven-haired, green-eyed girl's mannerisms was always putting the entire room on edge. 'Need to pacify them…' Agent Blake was always thinking. However, in the back of his mind, something else was motivating him. Before, he had always told himself that these three 'girls' were merely soul-less creatures. Now, they seemed so alive, so full of spirit. So human. So much like three little girls.

"What if I promise you that you'll get your father back? It's just going to take some time," Agent Blake offered.

"Promise?" Blossom said, not quite convinced.

"Promise," Agent Blake reaffirmed his vow.

"But how long will it take?" Bubbles and Buttercup said in unison, but Buttercup stared at her emotional sister after that, hating the idea of being lumped together with the weakling.

"Oh I don't know… A few days, maybe?" Agent Blake guessed honestly. He'd come to regret his decision on it again.

"But… what are we going to do?" Bubbles cried, tears spilling out again. "I can't wait a few days…"

"The three of you will have to keep going without him in the meantime," Agent Blake told them, unsure what the effects of his words would be. He simply had no clue - having very little experience with children. "Wouldn't that be what he wants?"

"But… Daddy helps us with everything… H-he teaches us something everyday, helps us with brushing our teeth and bathing and… everything…" Blossom said, sadness clearly seeping into her words from an unending source.

"Well, I've got some news," Agent Blake said, unsure if what he was going to say next would make things better or worse. When it came to matters of security, he could always predict with a reasonable margin of error what was going to happen next. But with this… "I'm going to have to take care of the three of you in the meantime. I'm your-" Agent Blake brainstormed for the right word. He was about to say that he was their new Dad, but thought better of it. Babysitter? No, that would be too demeaning for himself and them. Caretaker? No, that might blow his cover. "erm… governor now."

"Gover-what?" Buttercup exclaimed, confused. It was clearly a word they had never encountered before.

"Go-Ver-Nor," Agent Blake explained, at the same time wondering if he had made a mistake with his word choice, but he didn't let it show. "I'm now your governor. It means that I'll be taking care of you until your father's strong enough to go back to being your father."

Behind Agent Blake, his subordinates were all exchanging either confused or amused looks. He knew how it sounded. It was just a few letters short of calling himself a 'governess', and he didn't quite staying true to the definition of the word, but it would have to do.

"But…" Bubbles wanted to object, but kept quiet in the end. Things had taken a turn for the unexpected such that it managed to get her off Blossom's lap.

"Okay…" Blossom relented. "What do we do now?"

"First thing's first…" Agent Blake raked his brain for answers, unsure of the exact needs and wants of a child. He inevitably went back to his training as a soldier and security officer, and found the answers there. The basic needs of a soldier were essentially the same. Soldiers march on their stomachs, as Napoleon would say. Similarly, they would need water, lots of it, especially on the march and in the modern age, on complex operations. So… water and rations. "Have the three of you had your rations- I mean, breakfast?"

"No…" Blossom answered shyly.

"We've been starving since forever because Dad was sick!" Buttercup complained impatiently.

"Okay, great! I mean, then we'll solve that problem right away, and-" Agent Blake said excitedly, thinking that he had made progress, only to feel a roadblock not even a yard before him. The problem was… He hardly knew how to cook for himself, much less cater to the demanding taste buds of children. Again, he fell back to his military and security theory for answers. In the event of an emergency, an unsolvable crisis, what should one do? Consult command. Assign the right specialists to the right tasks. "Say, when was the last time the three of you took a bath?"

"Oh… Yesterday?" Bubbles answered, sounding as if she was answering a trick question.

"Yesterday afternoon…" Blossom corrected. "We stink."

"Who cares about a bath anyway?" Buttercup countered, and received only stares from both Blossom and Bubbles as though she was crazy.

"Then that's settled," Agent Blake the governor said, a triumphant smile on his face. The puzzle pieces were all clicking in the right place. "How about the three of you go to your room and pick up some fresh underwear and dresses? I'll be up with you in a minute - I just need to speak to my… friends."

"But what about breakfast!?" Buttercup complained again.

"After a bath, Buttercup," Agent Blake insisted firmly, at the same time with his heart racing. He knew that there was risk involved whenever he tried to put his foot firmly down.

"Yes, Mr. Blake," Blossom said obediently before hopping off the sofa, if still very much down. Bubbles followed, then Buttercup, once she realised again that she would be alone with a large group of strangers around her.

When they were out of earshot, Agent Blake called for a briefing in the living room, with all six PTF soldiers and seven of his officers attending.

"Sir, what's with this 'governor' business?" one of the soldiers asked.

"Chief of Security Blackwater has appointed me to take care of the girls temporarily," Agent Blake explained. "Look, we don't have time to waste. We need to decide on things immediately. What's the status of Agent Utonium?"

"He's still out of it, and I don't think anything's going to change for a while even with the meds I've been giving him. His fever needs to go down more before we can talk about lucidity," Corporal Zach reported.

"ETA on his recovery?" Agent Blake asked, hoping.

"Hard to say. Could be a couple of days or more, but if it's something to do with Chemical X, then I wouldn't know. Maybe even never," the medic said. It wasn't what Agent Blake wanted to hear. "We'll need a doctor to be sure."

"Fine. We'll need to change our operational parameters. I'm going to be stuck in The House, taking care of the girls-" Agent Blake went on, but was interrupted.

"Why are you calling them 'girls' all of a sudden?" one of the PTF soldiers asked.

"They just are, alright? I don't have time to discuss semantics with you. Now, operational parameters. I can't do this alone, so I might need a couple of you around. That means a few of us in the house. That, too, means we're going to be exposed. We'll need backup in the Play Area to guard us. I'm thinking we should all just shift our operations into The House entirely," Agent Blake said. "Objections?"

Silence.

"Good. We'll use the living room as our command centre and camp site. First order of business… Breakfast for the girls. Who here knows how to cook? And I don't mean shit like microwave food that's probably going to get us all killed if the girls hate it too much. I'm talking proper breakfasts. Well, anyone?"

Silence.

"Are you serious, sir?" his partner, Agent Fields, questioned.

"Yes, I'm God-damn serious. Pancakes or waffles or whatever - anyone?" Agent Blake was almost pleading. If no one knew how to turn a freaking pancake on a pan, he swore he was going to have a fit.

"Yeah… I'll do it," one of the PTF soldiers put up his free hand, volunteering. For some reason, Agent Blake thought the soldier looked ridiculous, the way he did it - a grown man, a big man in black tactical gear, putting up his hand shyly like a grade school kid. "Used to help in my pop's diner. I cooked lots of breakfast in my time."

"Any idea what you're going to make?" Agent Blake asked.

"This is ridiculous," another of the agents commented.

"Shut the fuck up! The breakfast could be a matter of life and death!" Agent Blake reprimanded the officer, then turned back to the PTF soldier volunteering to be chef. "Well?"

"I'm a little rusty, but If I got the right stuff, I can make eggs benedict," the soldier said.

"ETA?" Agent Blake asked.

"Give me 20 minutes and I'll figure it out," the soldier estimated.

"Alright, get right on it, finish it ASAP!" Agent Blake ordered. The PTF soldier scrambled into the kitchen. Then, he turned to the only female officer around. "And you, I'm going to need you to come with me."

"What for, sir?" the female officer inquired, genuinely concerned and confused. And afraid. They had never operated this closely with B-47, B-48 and B-49 before, and neither had they ever been required to stay in close proximity to them for days on end. "Why me?"

"The kids are taking a bath, I thought it'd be proper to have a lady accompany the girls instead of… You know, a guy like me," Agent Blake explained.

"Why not? Professor Utonium did. They're just lab rats, and even if they were girls, you're not a pedophile, right?" the female officer argued.

"Of course not!" Agent Blake retorted before sighing. This was all so much harder than conducting a security patrol or staking out, or guarding a place. Or fighting in the jungles of Vietnam - at least back then, it all felt natural to him, and he had fought on instincts first and training second. Here, he felt like he was floundering at sea, struggling just to keep from drowning. "Look, it's just- The fact is- I'm just saying- God damn it! Fine! You'll accompany me as escort, along with you, you and you." He picked out two other PTF soldiers and another plainclothes officer.

Agent Blake then started towards the stairs, along with his escorts. But before he ascended the stairs, he remembered that he had forgotten to give the rest of them orders. The whole thing was confounding him, totally. "And the rest of you… Help Sergeant Holliday with breakfast or just… guard the place."

'This is hell,' Agent Blake thought, as he went up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23: The Angels

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 0939.

"Mister Blake?" Blossom said to her new 'governor' as she and her siblings had just entered the washroom to start their daily routine.

"Yes, Blossom?" Agent Blake answered with a smile on his lips, a smile that was hiding some impatience, some frustration.

"I don't think I can do this…" Blossom said.

"Yeah…" Bubbles agreed.

"Why not?" Agent Blake asked ignorantly.

"It just feels weird when there's so many of you in the washroom with us," Blossom explained, pointing to the two PTF soldiers with assault rifles standing guard on either side of the washing basin and the female officer leaning against the wall, by the toilet. Agent Blake had left only one officer standing guard outside.

"Yeah, we hardly even have the space to move around!" Buttercup clamored.

Meanwhile, Bubbles had just dipped a hand into the water, and immediately retracted it as though the bathtub was filled with acid. "And the water's cold!" she shrieked in that high-pitched voice of hers.

"Blossom, Bubbles… er… Buttercup, right? Just- Just pretend they don't exist, alright?" Agent Blake tried to get his way.

"But, they're still there," Blossom said.

"And the water's still cold," Bubbles complained further.

Agent Blake sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Fine. Everyone out!" he ordered. But one of the PTF soldiers leaned close to his ear.

"Sir, do you think this is a trap?" the soldier suggested.

"No, I'll be fine," Agent Blake whispered back. "I'll scream if there's trouble."

"You sure?" the soldier asked again.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Just go before they suspect something," Agent Blake said quietly. The soldier did as he asked and left.

"Anna, wait, not you," Agent Blake said before pulling the other plainclothes in the washroom back. He puts an arm around her shoulders like a pal, as though introducing his co-worker to his new charges. "Say, Girls, would you prefer my dear friend, Anna, to help you out in here? She's a girl, like the three of you!" The female officer rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms.

"But… I've never met her before," Blossom said. The others were silent, but looking at him, with Buttercup giving him the 'let's just get this over with' look.

"Looks like you're it, sir," Anna the security officer said candidly before wriggling out from under his arm to leave the bathroom, echoing what Blackwater had said in the radio unknowingly. Blake stared after her, feeling a vague sense of betrayal.

Reluctantly, Agent Blake got to work, first removing his outer jacket, then replacing the cold water with something hotter on the insistence of Bubbles. With his face blushing like never before, even in the heat of battle, he helped the Girls out of their party dresses, perhaps a bit too roughly as he was weirded out by something so wrong - strangers, after all, weren't expected to take care of children they hardly knew with an activity so intimate.

With eyes closed, he lifted them into their baths, feeling the instinct to run away as fast as he could, and this time not because he considered them a threat due to their enhanced strength or speed, or resistance to disease, knives and bullets. He had only the flight response, because, this time, guns and combat tactics were useless against the wrongness he felt, made all the clearer, stinging, by the touch of their naked skin against his hands.

"I've got to make a call," Agent Blake uttered, anaemic from shock, as he backed away from the bath, knocking over a stool, making for the door.

"Mister Blake, can I have Ducky?" Bubbles requested before he could leave.

'Shit,' he thought. He searched the room for it, at the same time shielding his eyes from their naked bodies. "Where the he- Where is it?"

"It's on the shelf," Blossom helped. Agent Blake spotted the yellow rubber duck immediately, then feverishly made a grab for it before throwing it like a football.

"Catch!" he shouted, not even thinking. Buttercup managed to intercept it with both hands. All three of them giggled in delight at what they thought was Agent Blake's way of playing and showing affection.

"Now, just let me make that call," he said, face pale, as he made for the door once more.

"But you're supposed to shampoo our hair!" Blossom requested next. Agent Blake raised a finger at them, speechless asking them to wait, before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Is everything alright, sir?" one of the PTF soldiers, who had taken to standing guard in the hallway, asked, truly concerned. They had never seen their fearless lieutenant this way before, looking like he had served a sentence in a communist gulag.

"Just peachy," Agent Blake said, not revealing much. He still had an image to maintain, and can only be thankful that his hair was already gray before it could turn white from shock. "Sergeant Holliday, what's the status of the breakfast?"

"Coming along just right sir. I've laid the foundations for the toast. I am now working on the payoff that is the egg," his man on the other end reported. "Say, I found some milk and cereal in the fridge. Wouldn't it be easier if-"

"No, absolutely not. These are extraordinary circumstances. Cereal and milk might not be effective," Agent Blake decided.

"What about the morning beverage? Should we just water them like mules?" Sergeant Holliday asked over the clinking of dishes and utensils. Agent Blake couldn't get the image of a soldier in full gear putting on an apron and doing house work.

"No! No, no, no!" the security leader almost hollered, still aware that the Girls might hear him. He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on. "You're killing me, man. Haven't you been paying attention? What have you got, other than milk? Orange juice? Give me something with the best payload," He could hear the stomping of boots on wooden floor, then the fridge door opening.

"Let's see... milk, orange juice. There's coffee powder in here. Say, I think there's a coffee machine if payload's what you want-" Sergeant Holliday suggested again.

"Orange juice. Just go with the orange juice," Agent Blake ordered.

"10-4, sir, over and-" Sergeant Holliday, the designated chef, was about to leave the radio when Blake interrupted him.

"Wait! Tell Corporal Zach to prepare some painkillers for me. I have a feeling that I'm going to need it later," Agent Blake said.

"Yes sir, over and out."

Going back into the bathroom, Agent Blake took a deep breath and approached the Girls, who had been playing in the water, even Buttercup. He willed himself to open his eyes, telling himself that there was nothing wrong here, that it was all just part of his duty - meeting the needs of three lab rats so that everything wouldn't spontaneously combust. There would be no shame, no awkwardness in that.

Picking up a bottle of shampoo and folding up his sleeves, he began foaming them up. The Girls remained still throughout the operation, even Buttercup, who had put on a different facade than before. 'Professor Utonium has trained them well,' he thought as the bubbles began multiplying. But when the soap came next, he simply instructed the Girls to do it themselves. There was only so much he could take.

"Thanks, Mister Blake," Blossom said as the security officer was drying them off with a towel. At least with that, there was a layer of cloth between him and them.

"Don't thank me," he said as he rubbed his forehead between Bubbles and Buttercup's turn. "Just doing what I'm supposed to. Didn't your father teach you to shower on your own?" He had asked this, knowing full well that they were actually just over two weeks old. It was already a bloody miracle that they could even speak to him and comprehend his speech.

"Yeah, but we're still not good at it. Especially Buttercup. Daddy was so much better at it," Blossom explained. "And you're pretty good at it too. I like how you wanted us to learn fast. For our own good."

"Y-yeah," Blake agreed, knowing full well what his intentions were. If they'd just do it themselves, he wouldn't have to do it, and kill himself with the shame and awkwardness he'd tried and failed to distance himself from, in the name of duty.

Then Bubbles began tearing again. Just when he thought he'd distracted her from her father's fall.

"What's the matter?" Agent Blake asked.

"Nothing, it's just…" Bubbles explained all but poorly. "We were sad, but you made us smile and laugh. Daddy said that the outside world is horrible, but… You're not." Agent Blake thought he understood. He'd defied expectations, show her how kindness was, despite having no intention at all of doing so.

He couldn't help but smile at that, very much aware that his own opinions on the Girls was changing. They were definitely several marks, no, a million marks above the kind of monsters he had to deal with before, the kind created by Chemical A to W.

"Alright, enough with the mushy stuff," he said, but gently with his smile still not diminished at all, his whole attitude changed. "Let's hustle up. Can you three put on your own clothes? Your rations- I mean breakfast should be on the table now."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1003.

At the dinner table, the Girls sat down around the table, and Sergeant Holliday, the PTF soldier turned designated chef, set down their plates of eggs benedict before them. Each of them had two, which the ex-cook-turned-soldier had deemed to be more than enough for 5-year-olds. The Girls stared at their unfamiliar dish as if they were strange creatures. Buttercup went a step further and actually sniffed at the thing.

As Sergeant Holliday served the orange juice from a tray like a waiter in SWAT gear, Agent Blake sat down at the head of the table, feeling nervous, his palm and forehead clammy for some reason. The soldier-cook backed away as well, leaning against a nearby wall, his gun drawn once more, afraid that his cooking wasn't good enough that he'd start something - a fear put in him very well by Agent Blake. His helmet, goggles and ski mask had long been removed in the middle of his culinary mission, revealing a pale-looking and slightly gaunt man with black hair. He was normally unsmiling, but for some reason, cooking like this had changed that for him now.

"What is it?" Blossom asked, poking at the toast with egg on top with a fork, as if the thing could be alive. "Daddy didn't cook like this. He'd make us pancakes and waffles and stuff."

"Eat up, Girls," Agent Blake said, waving a hand at the chef responsible for it. "My friend here worked hard on it."

Buttercup was the first to try it, being famished and lacking the manners to hide it well. She chopped at one of the eggs benedict with a fork, splitting it in half, letting the yolk spill like the blood of some animal. Cutting it up further, she lifted a large piece into her mouth roughly.

And she froze after that, her mouth slightly ajar. Sergeant Holliday straightened up, his gun trembling. Agent Blake looked at her as if she might explode the next instant. Outside the kitchen, three other PTF soldiers and most of the security officers watched with anticipation, afraid that this could be it.

Then Buttercup smiled, and chewed, and chewed. "Dish- Ish- Awshome!" she said as she was still chewing, her mouth full, but she couldn't help it. Blossom and Bubbles followed suit, cutting up their own eggs benedict in a hurry so that they could satisfy their curiosity as to what had gained such high praise from the normally morose Buttercup.

Agent Blake smiled at this. Couldn't help it. Someone from the soldier-and-officer crowd laughed, then stopped himself, aware that sympathy of the subjects was frowned upon. Still, Sergeant Holliday's slight smile became a toothy beam, as he seemed pleased with himself. After all, it had been ages since he last cooked in his pops' diner. For the moment, he'd even forgotten that he was supposed to be a grunt working for a shady secret government agency.

"I'm glad the three of you liked it," Agent Blake said, pleased. Then, Bubbles appeared down once more. "Is something wrong with yours, Bubbles?"

"No, it's just… I miss having Daddy at the table," Bubbles lamented. "Can we see him later?"

"I'm afraid not. You'd have to let Corporal Zach work on him," Agent Blake said. "But he's fine. There's going to be some people coming over later to take a look at him. They'll make him all better with med'cine, you know, pills and such. I promise."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1045.

After breakfast, the Girls were dismissed to their room. Agent Blake, however, did not follow them. Instead, he'd crashed on the sofa, waiting for the double dose of aspirin he'd taken to kick in. In his place, he'd sent two PTF soldiers and Anna (as a form of revenge) up. While he had told them that they were there to guard the Girls, he'd told the Girls a different story. They had asked him to play with them and teach them about the ways of the world in their Daddy's stead. He promised instead to send them some playmates until his headache was gone.

When Anna got to the door, she knocked on it. "Come in!" Blossom from inside said. Anna went in, her pistol out. Only Buttercup realized what she was doing with her gun. The others were none the wiser.

"Oh, you brought your toys with you!" Bubbles squealed, referring to Anna's pistol and the PTF soldiers' rifles, delighted at the company. She giggled after that, much to the confusion of the three adults entering the room. Anna simply gestured for the PTF soldiers to take up their posts at different corners of the room.

"Didn't Daddy say that those toys are dangerous?" Buttercup inquired.

"Hey, yeah!" Blossom added, noticing the pistol too. She had been too miserable before to notice such things.

"Yeah, about that" Anna struggled to explain herself. Since the Girls knew, it meant their element of surprise was gone. She holstered her weapon, hiding it in her jacket as she fumbled for an explanation. "Every adult has a gun. We know how to make it safe," she lied, though it was partly true.

"Oh okay," Blossom accepted it without a challenge and went back to her building blocks. Buttercup didn't look convinced, but went back to her soft toys - this time, she'd decided to act like a 'normal' girl, even if she wasn't having fun. She thought that it might bring her… Something, even if Daddy wasn't around as a reward.

With that, Anna quietly went over to Professor Utonium's storytelling chair and sat down. The Girls continued to watch her, as though expecting her to suddenly just up and perform magic tricks.

"What?" Anna asked, noticing that they were looking at her as if she was made of chocolate.

"We're building a tower," Blossom said. She was sitting beside a tall thing made of blocks of different shapes. Bubbles was beside her, holding onto a circular block that was bound to cause another catastrophic failure in the half-finished skyscraper.

"Yeah, so?" Anna shot back, making it a point to temper her voice in case she started something she was looking to avoid.

"Mister Blake said that you came up here to play with us," Blossom explained.

Realization dawned on her in the most horrific fashion possible. "That Blake!" Anna whispered, the way she did far from enough to release the seething anger in her. It meant being in close proximity to the Girls. One wrong move, and one of them could be holding her beating heart out in the open while she screamed her dying breath, bleeding on the floor. At least, that was what she imagined.

"Hold on for a minute," Anna bade them to wait as she stood up and marched outside the door. Blossom and Bubbles didn't quite understand her fully, so they held each other instead, giggling all the way.

"Blake, come in," Anna tuned into her mic the moment she was out the door. "Come in, damn it!"

She could hear a groan coming from the other end of the line. It was Blake, probably still trying to recover from his headache. "Yeah, what is it? It better be good."

"Blake, you son-of-a-bitch!" she screeched into the mic, though she made sure to keep further away from the Girls' room. "I'm totally fine with standing guard, but to 'play' with those lab rats!? What the actual fuck!"

"Relax, Anna. They're not that bad. You certainly didn't mind leaving me with them in the bathroom, did you?" Agent Blake said. Anna could positively feel his smugness right through her earphone, even if he had taken ill from a headache. "Anyway, it won't be long. Just give me half an hour, and I'll join you for a tea party. Over and out and see ya!"

"Blake!" Anna shouted hoarsely into her mic, keeping it down, but she knew it was no use. "Damn it!"

Returning into the room, she resigned herself to sitting next to Blossom and Bubbles, keeping her pistol holstered. From what she read on the reports, her pistol might well be useless against them anyway.

"What about me?" Buttercup with her soft toys said from the other end of the room. Anna thought she could feel her own headache coming on, and she wasn't about to take on the lab rats on her own.

"Sergeant Rutherland, play with Buttercup," Anna ordered one of the Powerpuff Task Force soldiers. Even behind his ski mask, goggles and helmet, she could easily see that he was surprised and confused.

"What? Ma'am, I don't know how," the soldier said.

"Do I have to get you knocked down to recruit? I'm third in command of this detail and I can do that, you know," Anna threatened, her mood already foul from the indignation of this kindergarten bullshit, just simply unable to brook anymore delays to the problem.

"Yes, ma'am," the PTF soldier said. He slung his XM4 carbine on his back, and sat down next to Buttercup. Admittedly, it felt good to rest his legs, even if it was to sit Indian-like on the floor - but at what cost? "So… What do you want to do?" he asked Buttercup. The Girls listened to this exchange with curiosity, and couldn't understand most of it. They just thought, in their own ways, that it was how adults spoke to each other.

"You look funny in all that stuff," Buttercup said, smiling. By that, she meant 'different', but she didn't know the exact way to express that. "I can't see your face. Can you take off all that stuff on your face? Pretty please? I wanna see how you look like."

To the soldier, it seemed as if B-48 wanted to expose him for the kill. He looked at Anna, and when the officer noticed, returned the gaze. She made a 'just do it' face to him, and the soldier, still fearing for his rank and career, complied. Reaching up to his chin, he unclasped the straps of his helmet, removed it, then slipped off his goggles and pulled away his ski mask, revealing his face.

He was a bald man. Black and dark-skinned. Thick nose. Slight wrinkles, aging from many battles of yesteryears. And now, he had to face another battle: to play with a monster in the guise of a kindergartner without getting killed. "How do I look?"

"You look cool," Buttercup seemed taken in by his appearance. She thought he was different. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a bald man. But he looked strong, like her.

"Do you wanna play with cars? I like cars, and explosions," Buttercup asked, again dropping her 'girlish-girl' act, as she believed that she had gained something from her performance.

"Sure, sure," Sergeant Rutherland complied, alarmed at B-48's admission to liking destruction, just more worried about keeping the supposedly dangerous lab experiment placated, so as to keep himself alive. "Whatever you want, girl."

Chapter Text

Chapter 24: Heaven

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1115.

It had been half an hour since Agent Anna had called in to check with her lieutenant, Agent Blake, to see if he was ever going to come up. In the meantime, she had been stealthily reducing her responsibilities since.

Instead of playing with both Blossom and Bubbles, she had called for a change in activity. Blossom had decided on figuring out the alphabet and numbers again, having never quite caught on since she first started, while Bubbles wanted to draw. Anna decided to help with Blossom, while Sergeant Rutherland had switched over to Bubbles' side, once again on his superior's orders, leaving Buttercup with the second PTF soldier, who was just as confused and nervous about the prospect of abandoning the familiarity of guard duty for the dark unknown of play-time with the Chemical X subjects.

Sergeant Rutherland had decided to grab himself a piece of drawing block and color pencils to draw himself, so that Bubbles wouldn't be alone in the endeavor or be micro-managed by his adult sensibilities - 'Let girls be girls, kids be kids', he thought. In his mere half an hour with the Girls, he had thought better of them, just like Agent Blake. Due to distance and a lack of contact, he had thought of them before as the monsters the Organization made them out to be. However, being a new member of the Organization, recruited because of his combat experience in the Vietnam War and police vocation since, he had little preconceived notions of 'B-47, B-48 and B-49' as they were called. It was easy for him to change his mind.

Bubbles sat on her kiddy stool, hunched over her drawing. She had been trying to stay positive for the past hour, following Mister Blake's encouragements, and this time, she had dedicated her drawing to that effort, rendering from her memories the day when she'd woken up for the first time, like a newly-hatched chick, to find Daddy at the foot of her cot. She drew the cots with the three of them in them. It was far from an accurate drawing, with the beds far too big, as if each of them were given king-sized beds by Wiggums in the beginning. Her sisters and she were scribbles of the appropriate colors. Her Daddy was black and white, drawn a little boxy based on his strong, manly features.

Her drawing buddy had other ideas. He couldn't help but to recall his time in Vietnam. In fact, there wasn't a day when he didn't. He drew trees and trenches, men crawling in the thickets. Only, those weren't his men. They were the Viet Cong. He drew rough shapes of men on the floor, their rifles scattered around them. Men were dead on both sides. He drew tears, unrealistically large, and blood, downplayed because the soil and grass and bushes and trees would suck on that blood greedily, he remembered. A helicopter thundered above the treeline, firing its miniguns at the enemy lines. He was down there, killing men he had never seen before, who he knew had lives, families and friends, who were killing men he knew on his side, who he knew had lives, families and friends too.

He didn't want to fire his rifle, but he had to, and when the hated M16 jammed because of the terrible, fetid jungles of Vietnam, he tossed it aside and fired rounds from his M1911A1 that he didn't want to fire, but had to, because men who didn't really want to kill him were firing at him anyway.

"What are you drawing, Mister Ruthy?" Bubbles interrupted his unwelcome reminiscence, thankfully. She had nicknamed him Mister Ruthy because she found it hard to pronounce his last name.

"Something really bad that happened long ago," Sergeant Rutherland said, his voice a near-whisper, his eyes a still distant, as though he was still in Vietnam, watching innocent men, friends and enemies alike take their final fall under the leadership of their supposed superiors.

"Who are these people?" Bubbles asked innocently, pointing at the figures lying on the ground. Despite being developmentally behind her sisters, she was still able to grasp the concept of death. At first, she thought that Mister Ruthy had drawn people who were sleeping after a picnic in a garden, but it dawned on her that they might not be asleep, after all.

"Friends I haven't seen for almost twenty years, who I'll never see again," Sergeant Rutherland said. "And those guys on the other side… They're people I'll never get to say 'I'm sorry' to."

"What happened?" Bubbles asked, her hands went up to her mouth in shock. She never liked it when she was upset, so she didn't like that Mister Ruthy looked beyond miserable too.

"People had arguments, and they got really mad at each other, so we fought and hurt each other…" Sergeant Rutherland answered in as simple a way as possible, not really confident at all that Bubbles would understand, but then again, he wouldn't want her to understand the whole truth anyway. It was just something that no little girls should have to understand. His mind wandered to the many little girls he had seen suffering in that far-away land.

"My Daddy said that there's always time to talk," Bubbles said, putting on her best smile for her new friend. "He read a story to me once, about a great big place in the sky where people go when they die." She picked up a light-blue colored pencil and drew angel-like wings on the dead bodies in Sergeant Rutherland's depiction of a Vietnam War two-sided massacre. "Maybe they're all up there now, and you'll see them again? And when you see them, you can say 'hi' and apologize to them?" She drew a cloud with a trees and flowers above a battlefield, just above the attack chopper firing down on the Vietnamese jungle. There, she drew stick figures giving each other flowers. "Now isn't that nice? I think I'm getting better at drawing."

Sergeant Rutherland had heard her, stared at the changes she made to his drawings. Slowly but surely, it eroded at his tough front, and eventually he couldn't help but to scrunch up his face as he felt a wave of comfort, a wave of sadness released like he never did before. Tears started to crawl out from one of his eyes.

"Excuse me," he whispered to Bubbles before shooting up. "Permission to be dismissed," he mumbled to Agent Anna before hurriedly going for the door, without waiting for a response or permission, or even caring if she'd heard him.

"Mister Ruthy?" Bubbles called out to him, worried that she'd said something wrong.

"Sergeant Rutherland, your rifle!" Agent Anna warned him, but he had already opened the door and slipped out, leaving his XM4 rifle behind, leaning against the pink kiddy table. Anna could only wonder what had actually happened, as she was absorbed in her task of explaining the alphabets. Blossom and Buttercup were also wondering what had happened.

"Bubbles, what did you say to him?" Blossom asked, though she honestly didn't think she had done any wrong.

"I don't know, I just told him that he'd get to meet his friends again…" Bubbles said, too ignorant to know what she had done for Sergeant Rutherland that no psychiatrist, family member or social worker was capable of. Anna stared at her, fearing the worst, as though she could smite her dead at a moment's notice. To her, what Bubbles said seemed ominous. It sounded like a veiled threat, even.

Outside, Agent Blake was just walking towards the Girls' room when Sergeant Rutherland hurried past him, a hand obscuring his face for some reason. Was that sobbing he though he heard? Coming from one of the toughest soldiers in the new Powerpuff Task Force? He stared at the soldier as he was almost running into the washroom, sans headgear. Sans weapon. He had known the PTF soldier for a few days now, and he was supposed to be one of the best, undeniably. That he had left behind his rifle was a huge red flag. Something had changed, and he could only wonder what was going on. As he came close to the door leading into the Girls' room, Agent Anna opened the door and poked her head out.

"Blake, did you see Rutherland?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think he went into the can. Had to go, I suppose," Agent Blake guessed rather poorly; he didn't have the time to process what had happened. Anna pulled the door even wider and pushed Rutherland's XM4 Carbine into his hands.

"Here, he forgot this," Anna said, before coming out the door entirely. "I think one of the Girls, Bubbles, was it? Yeah, Bubbles, did something to him. Do you think they are psionically active? Like a few of those cases we had before?"

"Not that I know of. It's not in the files," Agent Blake said, trying to recall, but coming up with nothing.

"I have a theory, Blake. I think I know what's going on," Anna claimed, then with a hand, pulled Blake further away from the room. "I think they're capable of screwing with our minds. If not psionically, then conventionally."

"What the hell are you talking about, Anne?" Blake said. It seemed ridiculous. Mind control? Even with the previous cases, it was obvious whenever the subjects they were guarding had tampered with their agents' minds. Agents who survived mind control, or more accurately, mind tampering and mood alterations, could feel changes in their own brains, had described it as something they could resist or fail to resist. He'd felt nothing so far.

"I'm calling this in, Blake," Agent Anna said, before brushing past him. "Oh, and by the way, it's your turn. I'm done."

Before Agent Blake could say anything, tell her that she was wrong, that she was wasting her time, the female officer was already gone.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1211.

When the medical team had arrived at the front door of the 'Utonium Residence', Agent Blake was relieved. It meant that the Chief of Security had meant what he said, kept his word, instead of using 'scorched earth policy'. He wasn't above it, but for now, it only meant that he had decided against it. He wouldn't claim to know the inner workings of the deep sixty-plus-something old-world warrior, but he knew that total destruction was always a consideration at every turn under the man.

The medical team was led by none other than Medical Wing Director Simmons himself. It was no accident that Simmons was the medical director. The man was a prodigy, a miracle worker armed with next-generation medical technology and techniques that only the Organization (and the Institute) had. He was also a close co-worker of Professor Utonium, and knew about the effects of Chemical X on the human body almost as much as him.

It could mean only good things from here onwards.

The medical team consisted of Simmons himself, another doctor and two nurses. The Chief of Security wasn't kidding when he said that he was still a valued asset.

"So what's the prognosis, doc?" Agent Blake questioned Medical Director Simmons the moment he stepped out of Professor Utonium's room. "Does it have anything to do with Chemical X? Is the prof going to die from exposure to it?"

"One thing at a time," Medical Director Simmons said. "First, your medic did a pretty good job, perhaps, in wresting Utonium from the jaws of death itself." The doctor said dramatically. He had a flare for that, and he thought that it might be something to do with his age and a gentleman's demeanor from a bygone era. The old man was over seventy, but still looked like he was sixty because of experimental, but effective, medical treatment. "A few more hours, and we'd have lost our century's Da Vinci, or even worse, turn him into something less… mentally developed than his adopted daughters. I don't mean that as an insult to your… new responsibilities, of course." He'd ended that off with a chuckle. "The Human brain is both a wondrous yet fragile thing."

"Anyway, your medic was able to bring his temperature down and rehydrate the man. I've added some nutrition and drugs to his IV to further stabilize his condition. I won't get too technical with you - anti-inflammations, a standard cocktail of drugs for fever and cold treatment, antibiotics."

"Does it have anything to do with Chemical X?" Agent Blake asked again.

"Hmm- The short answer is, no. The long answer is… I don't know. Chemical X is still an enigmatic substance, my security friend. Even Professor Utonium struggles to understand it, much less a humble man like me. What I do know is that it cannot interact well with a biological system in its raw form, requiring stabilizing agents and primers and and such for the task. Whether he could somehow be contaminated with a 'stable' form of Chemical X from the… Girls, is another matter however. I won't pursue that matter, however," the doctor explained at length.

"Why not?"

"Because of my lack of qualification for Chemical X. I'm afraid I might misdiagnose Professor Utonium. At this point, even Professor Utonium can't diagnose himself with any Chemical X-related symptoms and disease. However, I will say this: What he's suffering now is as I've suspected during the meeting he attended yesterday, and it's conventional even if it's serious. Overwork, stress, sleep deprivation, nutritional deficiency, he's contracted some form of a simple flu and cold, and while I'm no psychiatrist - that's Alice's territory - he's got a chip on his shoulder. I know the man, as I'm sure you do, and I know why he's so protective of the Girls."

"His wife and kid?"

"Yes. That must have driven him to the edge, to say nothing about the Organization's harsh measures against its test subjects and members. Anyway, I'll be sticking around close by to make sure he makes a full recovery. I've already instructed a nurse to keep tabs on his prescription, and I'll probably make a full recommendation to the Organization committee to introduce someone else into the Girls' lives."

"You mean replacing Utonium as the caretaker?"

"No, I mean assisting him in raising the Girls. Being a single parent is a tough job, especially when he'd have to care for three kids who started out like slates as blank as infants, and then juggle that with a demanding around-the-clock job that all but invades his new 'private' life right from the beginning…"

"I didn't realize how bad it was…"

"Perks of being a fellow committee member and sitting close to Professor Utonium, I suppose."

"How long before he's on his feet again?" Agent Blake asked the magic question.

"He should be conscious again in… Give or take, four to eighteen hours. I'd be worried if it's more than that. But to make a full recovery? That's going to take more than the two or three days your medic predicted. Sure, he'd be able to walk around after two or three days, but I'm also prescribing two weeks of reduced workload for him - after he's up and about. If my recommendation for a second parent for the Girls is heeded by the committee, he'd have a reduced workload practically forever, anyway."

Medical Director Simmons had all but given Agent Blake nothing but good news. Packaging it into something the Girls would understand however, would be a challenge, but it was something the ex-soldier was willing to confront head-on. And what better way than to do it over a good meal at the table? Looking at his watch, he realized it was nearing lunch time.

'Lunch time. Shit,' Agent Blake thought as he remembered that he no longer had only himself to think of anymore. The Girls would need lunch too. As Simmons returned to Professor Utonium's room, presumably to pack up, he radioed in on The House's designated chef.

"Sierra-Lima to PTF-3, over," he spoke into his mic.

"PTF-3 present and accounted for, sir. What can I do you for? Over," Sergeant Holliday returned his call.

"I'm afraid I have another mission for you in the kitchen, over," Agent Blake said.

"If it's urgent, I would recommend a takeout, over," Sergeant Holliday replied. Agent Blake glanced at his watch, made estimations. There were no restaurants in this area of Townsville. No, a takeout would probably take as much time as a homemade bomb of a meal, if not more.

"Takeout is a no-go. Culinary preparation must be done on-site," Agent Blake said. "What can you cook up in… Thirty minutes? Over."

"I've taken the initiative and inventoried the kitchen, sir," Sergeant Holliday on the other end reported. Agent Blake could hear plastic hitting the wooden floor. The PTF soldier was probably setting down his rifle again, which had proven to be a less useful weapon than Eggs Benedict. "What would you say to Cordon Bleu? Did I mention that my dad's diner was classier than the usual? It's still alive and well, over."

"That'll do. It's now T minus thirty, I need you to double-time with lunch. As for the rest of us, get someone to order in some pizza, and make sure to get some for the medical team too. Make it a full spread of flavors. Maybe that'd get some of you to lighten up. Over and out."

Chapter Text

Chapter 25: Sleeping Beauties

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

7 DEC 1988. 1324.

While Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were in their room, playing together with Sergeant Rutherland and Agent Blake, there was a knock on the door. "Come in!" Agent Blake said. The door opened, revealing none other than Medical Director Simmons. He stared at the sight of Chemical X mutant children and a pair of hardened soldiers playing together, and couldn't help but to chuckle. They were building a city together, using whatever they had on hand - building blocks, Jenga blocks, model cars, boxes and containers. Another PTF soldier, Private Jessup, was busy rooting through the closet for even more 'building materials', and he'd just came out with a few shoe boxes.

Agent Blake, feeling blood rushing to his cheeks, stood up and straightened himself out, dusting his jacket. "Doctor Simmons, er, I don't think you've met the Girls?"

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup looked up from their half-constructed model Townsville and pinned their eyes on Doctor Simmons in anticipation. 'He looks important! Does he have more good news?' Blossom hoped. 'Are we getting more playmates?' Bubbles guessed. 'Am I getting more model cars?' Buttercup thought greedily.

"No, I don't believe I have the pleasure," Doctor Simmons said, each of his words properly pronounced. He seemed more formal than usual, which was how he would behave in front of new acquaintances who were important.

"Girls, this is Doctor Simmons. He's been taking good care of your father for a couple hours now," Agent Blake introduced the man, standing beside him and giving him a pat on the back. The Girls stood up, beaming at him, glad that he was here - since it meant their Daddy would be saved. "Doctor Simmons, this is Blossom," he waved his hand at the pink-eyed girl in a red bow and pink dress, "Bubbles," his hand shifted to the blue-eyed girl with incredibly long pigtails that were just begging to be cut, "and Buttercup." Attention in the room shifted to a green-eyed girl who had modeled herself exactly after Blossom in appearance, copying her bow and hairstyle. She struck a cutesy pose more girly than Bubbles', who didn't even know that Buttercup was competing with her.

"It's nice to finally meet the three of you. I've heard only good things about you angels," Doctor Simmons stuck out a hand, shaking the Girls' one after the other. It was a ritual they had just learned from the security officers and PTF soldiers, since they hadn't met anyone other than Professor Utonium until they came. He then turned to their temporary caretaker. "Eh- May I speak to them alone, please?"

"Sure," Agent Blake agreed, before turning to the PTF soldiers. "Let's move out, people."

The room was soon vacated, leaving just the doctor and the three subjects of Project Powerpuff.

"Please, don't stand on ceremony. I'm not your father, you know. Sit," Doctor Simmons said graciously, waving a hand at their kiddy stools. The doctor himself looked around for a place to sit down, a place more conducive for his old bones, and he found the Girls' tri-colored bed. The Girls followed his instructions, taking places around their pink kid's tea table, their eyes still expectantly fixed on him.

The Girls were beautiful, and Doctor Simmons had to wonder if Chemical X had a part to play with that as well.

Blossom and her aristocratic features: upturned Grecian nose, high cheek bones, large eyes with pink, slightly glowing irises, her flaming red hair, combed into a flowing, cascading waterfall of fire down to her waist, tamed by a red bow and red pink-heart hair clip. She looked at him with intent, her eyes reading his, intelligent beyond her age of a mere two weeks and two days.

Bubbles, with her button nose, those soft cheeks, large eyes with light blue, slightly glowing irises, golden-blonde hair that fell on either side of her owing to the blue matching ribbons she wore, almost down to the waist, which, even without a trim, worked well like sun beams or golden curtains. She looked at him with the most innocent, lovable eyes that could probably disarm some of the most ruthless men in Townsville.

And finally, Buttercup, who looked similar except for her slightly sharp and straight nose and strong features, those arched eyebrows and green-irised, glowing glare that promised strength. Somehow, he felt that her Blossom-esque hairstyle did not quite fit her, even though he hadn't seen the other forms her mane could take. Her raven hair, however, was wilder than her aristocratic sister's, with the ends sticking up sideways like blades at the end.

Realizing that he was getting distracted with his admiration of the Girls, he went on: "As you have probably heard, your father is going to make a full recovery-"

"Can we see him?" Blossom asked impatiently, excitedly.

"Pretty please?" Bubbles completed her sentence for her.

"Yeah, I can't wait to be with him again!" Buttercup added.

"I suppose you could, but I don't think he's woken up yet," the doctor said.

"But… Why is he asleep for so long? Does he hate us now?" Buttercup asked, was almost interrogative, afraid that somehow her Daddy had found out about her deepest, darkest secrets somehow and decided not to tend to her again.

"Oh no, no, no. You can't think that way, young lady," the doctor corrected her swiftly. He wouldn't want such an innocent girl like Buttercup to suffer the wrong ideas (not that he knew how she'd murdered a cat, assaulted and blackmailed her sister and invaded her father's privacy, and of course, stolen a gun). "You see, when people got really sick, really hurt, what they'll do is fall asleep, sometimes for a long time."

"He was sick for a long time, I knew it," Blossom said. A teardrop fell from one of her large eyes. "I should have done something."

"Sweet little girl, there was nothing you could have done. I've known your father for eight years. I know how stubborn he can be. If he was hiding his illnesses from you, he would have done it all the way," Medical Director Simmons explained. He pulled a handkerchief out from a pocket, came up to Blossom, kneeling down with a difficult grunt, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "There you go, isn't that better? Be a strong girl for your father now. After all, you're strong as an ox from what I heard."

The doctor glanced down at Blossom, studying her. She was an interesting specimen of humanity – from her ethereal eyes, which seemed otherworldly, the way it glowed slightly, to her body – somehow managing to look like a normal 5-year-old, despite the enhancements it received. Then he noticed something else. Stitches. Stitches on her upper arm. Upton's stitches, he knew from the times the professor had to double as a doctor in an emergency.

"What is this?" he held up Blossoms arm, examining his colleagues handiwork.

"Did your father do this?" Simmons asked, even though he knew the answer to his question. Young as they were, the Girls could detect an accusatory tone from their time with the professor. After all, there were many minor wrongs they had committed.

"He made us sleep to test how strong we were…" Blossom try red to explain, but Simmons already knew what it was for. The problem was… there was no longer a cut under the stitches, not so much even a faint scar. The stitches, in fact, looked as if it had been half-bitten off by the girl's flesh as it recovered, with some of the surgical thread practically disappeared while the rest were loose and drooping. Simmons checked both Bubbles and Buttercup's arms, and he saw the same thing.

It had only been two days. It would have taken a week or two normally, and even longer for any scars to disappear, if the scar could even disappear entirely. It could have taken even be less than two days, since there was no report of the Girls' rapid healing factor. "Extraordinary!" he couldn't help but to utter.

"What?" the Girls asked in unison.

"It means you three are one-of-a-kind, amazing!" the doctor said. "But I'll need to help the three of you get those stitches off. Once we're done with that, I'll take you kids to see your father."

His promise, however, would do little, as Professor Utonium was still out of it, hooked to an IV drip and monitored by ECGs and heart rate machines. The Girls and their keeper had switched places. They would spend hours in the room, allowed to do so on the promise that they wouldn't cause a ruckus or destroy the machines keeping him safe. Bubbles drew a picture of them as a family, while Blossom, with the help of an idling nurse, had written her first get-well-soon card for the professor. Buttercup got into bed with the unconscious professor, wrapping his arm around her. The nurse had objected, but her words fell on deaf ears and Simmons eventually got her to let it be. "Wake up soon, Daddy," Buttercup told the professor before napping beside him.

Dinner was eaten in silence, as their father continued to lie in bed, unresponsive. Night fell, and then bedtime came, as if uncaring that the Girls were dejected at the seeming lack of progress in their Daddy's recovery, despite all the hopeful things Medical Director Simmons had heaped on them.

Bedtime was presided by Agent Blake himself, who had found himself liking the prospect of taking care of the Girls more and more, that it was beginning to scare even him. Over the course of a single day, his outlook on life had changed. Before, he was a hardened ex-soldier, career man at the peak of his performance, and now… Even his disposition towards his own men had become, as Corporal Zach had described, 'almost motherly'. It was an exaggeration of course, but then again, he couldn't remember the last time he'd just let his men be, instead of whipping them into shape constantly, micromanaging them, and then allow them to order in every flavor of pizza possible, decadent with all the sides and drinks the nearest pizzeria had to offer.

By the end of the day, the living room had become more of a rec room than command centre for the PTF soldiers and security officers, with the television always on. With the Girls proven to be a non-threat, the tension in the House had lifted for most of the personnel present, with their focus shifting towards protecting the Girls from any outside threat, rather than the maddening duality of having to oppress the very same children they had to defend. Only Anna and a handful others remained adamant that the Girls need to be treated as things that were dangerous.

Without batting an eye, Agent Blake helped the Girls into their night gown, one after the other, like an assembly line of love. He'd noticed a change in them. Where their mood in the afternoon had swung towards sunny, their mood at night had darkened dramatically.

"What if Dad doesn't wake up again?" Blossom despaired once again.

"What if he dies!?" Bubbles feared the worse.

"What if he doesn't wake up because he hates us!" Buttercup speculated, insecure. "I've been trying my best to be the perfect little girl!"

They were already tucked into bed, according to the colors of the bed sheet, but were far from being in the mood for some sleep.

"I'm sure it's none of that," Agent Blake promised. "Good things come with time, even if it takes a while sometimes." He padded over to the bookshelf, and began rooting through the selection. He remembered a story that his mother used to tell him. Though it had little significance to him beyond a measure of entertainment value, he thought that it was pertinent to the current situation. Yet, after flipping past a dozen storybooks, he couldn't find it.

"I don't think I want a bedtime story. I just want Dad!" Bubbles began crying. 'Oh no, better hurry' Agent Blake thought as he went through the selection faster. Just when he thought he'd hit the end of the shelf with nothing to show for it, he finally found it - Thank God for Utonium's meticulousness! The man had practically purchased all of the classic fairy tales.

He turned around and held up a book to them. The cover showed a picture of a princess sleeping on a stone slab.

"What does that have anything to do with Dad?" Buttercup said cynically, crossing her arms.

"It has everything to do with your Dad," Agent Blake claimed. "This masterpiece will change your life." Perhaps he'd oversold it a little, but he would be lying to himself if he claimed that it wasn't intentional.

And so Agent Blake told them the story of Sleeping Beauty, and how it took a hundred years for her to waken and live happily ever after. The moral of the story? All good things took time to manifest, and with their Daddy, at least it would likely take less than a hundred years for him to wake up and smell the roses.

Even if it didn't put the Girls entirely at ease, it'd stopped them from melting down any further, and motivated them to sleep so that the next day could come faster.

"I guess I'll leave you lot to it then," Agent Blake finally said, actually proud and feeling fulfilled at a mission accomplished, even if said mission had nothing to do with combat. "Good night."

"Mister Blake, wait," Bubbles said, urgency in her voice.

"Something wrong, Bubbles?" Agent Blake asked.

"May I have Octi?" she said. "He's the octopus." Agent Blake looked around the room, but he couldn't pick out the eight-tentacled soft toy anywhere. "He's with his friends."

"Right, of course he is," Agent Blake commented before walking over to the giant pile of soft toys and pulling Octi out of it, depositing it into the blonde's arms.

"Thank you, Mister Blake," Bubbles said. "NIghty-night, Mister Blake."

"Right, night." Agent Blake said before leaving the room and moving to close the door behind him. Before he could fully close it though, he could hear Bubbles whimpering in fear. He came back in again.

"What's the matter?" He asked again.

"Please keep the door open?" Bubbles requested.

"Bubbles, there are six soldiers and seven guards in this house, and you've got superpowers. What's there to be afraid of?" Agent Blake tried to reason with her.

"But the darkness is everywhere!" Bubbles cried.

"Mister Blake, I'm kinda afraid of the dark too…" Blossom added, if only in support of Bubbles.

"Alright, alright," Agent Blake struggled with the illogical and irrational of the Girls, but he relented. "I'll keep the hall lights shining." And with that, he left the Girls to slumber, hopefully towards a better tomorrow.

And the Girls tried. They honestly did, but there was one other thing that was bugging them.

"I can't sleep…" Bubbles squeaked.

"Yeah, even though I'm pooped," Buttercup added.

"Erm… Mister Ruthy, Mister Jessup…" Blossom said to the two dark figures in the room with them. They were camouflaged against the darkness by their black tactical gear. They were on either corners of the room, opposite of their queen-sized bed. "I can't sleep with the two of you staring at us…"

"Oh. Sorry," Sergeant Rutherland apologized. Removing a hand from the grip of his XM4 Carbine rifle, he searched the night vision device he was wearing for a switch before turning it off and resting it against his forehead. "Force of habit, I suppose. It was our turn to guard you three." He made a move towards the door. "C'mon, Private Jessup. We'll be right outside the door. Holler if you see any boogie-men, or need anything else."

Chapter Text

A/N: I've decided to put the quote below in the prologue, as it seems to be the overwhelmingly prevailing theme in this story:

"He who fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." - Friedrich Nietszche

Chapter 26: Broken

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

8 DEC 1988. 1019.

"How is his vitals?" Medical Director Simmons asked, while he was scribbling on a clipboard. He had been sitting by the door of Professor Utonium's room for the past couple of hours. He was getting worried that his beleaguered colleague might never wake up again. The professor hadn't woken up in the time period he estimated, and he was usually accurate with his educated guesses.

"Vital signs are normal. 51 bpm, ECG 140 to about 155. Body temperature's at… 100.2 Fahrenheit. Nothing's changed," the nurse, a female blonde who was a little overweight, reported.

"Have you changed his IV?" Simmons inquired again, scribbling more notes in cursive handwriting that was almost a secret code, since only his own medical staff could read it. The nurse did not reply for some reason. "Nurse, have you changed his IV?"

"D-doctor!" the nurse shouted, alarmed.

"What is it? Did you do something wrong?" the doctor accused - there was no such thing as a patient he could afford to screw up with, not in his book. He rushed over to his patient, swallowing whatever speculations he had boiling in his brain.

"No, his eyes! He opened his eyes!" the nurse said. "He's awake!"

Doctor Simmons had to see it for himself, and it was true. Professor Utonium was finally awake. But he looked barely conscious, and clearly confused, as expected from someone who had jump forward in time and space for almost two days from his perspective.

"Thomas? Can you hear me?" the doctor said, snapping his fingers before the professor's eyes. He then shone a pen-light into his eyes, testing their reactions. Normal dilation. No sign of brain damage thus far. The previous day, he'd even taken advantage of the medical imaging equipment the Professor himself had brought in for examining Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, and ran him through a brain scan, MRI. Nothing would have indicated otherwise. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Professor Utonium did not reply. Instead, he turned over, facing away from the doctor.

"Thomas, we have to do some basic tests. It's for your own good. You're a doctor too, you should know that," Simmons told him, perhaps confused by his colleague's behavior. From what he knew, Professor Utonium was in love with his Girls. Shouldn't he be jumping up to see them the second he was conscious?

"Leave me alone," Professor Utonium simply muttered, weak from being bedridden for a couple of days.

"Professor, at least tell me what the problem is?" Simmons asked, now deeply concerned.

"You should have euthanized me. That's the problem," the professor lamented cryptically, his voice vacant of emotions, as if he'd ran out of it.

"May I at least keep you in observation and on the drip?" Simmons requested. Silence was his only reply. 'What the hell is going on?' the doctor wondered. He made a move out of the room, equally confused as to what to do.

"I'll keep an eye on him," the nurse said.

"You do that. Good show, missus," the doctor praised her emptily. His mind was on something else. When he was out of the room, it didn't take him long to reach the corridor overlooking the living room. The Girls were there, watching cartoons with half the security force present. As much as the situation with the Girls was stable for now, it couldn't go on like this. The Girls were ignorant, but they were under what was little more than a provisional military governorship. Soldiers make good guardians or protectors. They wouldn't be any good as parents and educators. He's had a talk with Agent Blake, and he knew that the Girls had advanced very little in their education and understanding of the world, or their understanding of themselves in the day the security lieutenant was responsible for them, compared to the huge strides Professor Utonium made, based on his reports, based on what he saw.

Should he even inform the Girls? He had to. They were his family, at least the ones he cared for, anyway. But even that was thrown into question by his acute nihilistic streak, made apparent by his behavior on waking up. No, he needed to. Perhaps the Girls might make the professor come around.

Descending down the stairs, Medical Director Simmons approached the Girls. It was as if they sensed his coming, as they immediately turned away from the television to him without him saying a word. "Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup. I need to speak with the three of you."

Together, the old doctor and the three Girls sat on the steps of the stairs, but for a moment, there were no words exchanged as the doctor struggled to think of a way to persecute the matter.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Buttercup muttered, her spirit low, fearing the worse when she misinterpreted the doctor's silence for grave news.

"No, he's not," the doctor said immediately.

"So he's alive?" Bubbles surmised.

"Of course he is, bobble-head!" Buttercup chided, sick of what she perceived as stupidity on the part of her blue sister. At this point, sadness was bubbling just under the surface of Bubble's skin, under the surface of all the Girls' skin, that the blonde couldn't pretend not to be upset to save her life.

"Buttercup!" Blossom hushed her tomboy sister up, then turned to the doctor. "Then what's the matter? Is something happening to him?"

"He seems… really upset. Did something happen between you three and your father?" Medical Director Simmons inquired. "Did something happen the night before you three found him in the lab?"

Bubbles seemed really upset with his statement, even though it wasn't even an accusation. She had already started sniffling and tearing. The doctor took out his handkerchief once more to wipe her eyes and cheeks.

"I don't know," Bubbles sobbed.

"He was really quiet on the way back home," Blossom recalled.

"You mean on the way back from the meeting?" the doctor checked.

"Yes… He was having trouble walking back into the house. He was really hot," Buttercup continued the story.

"Must be the fever," the doctor confirmed.

"He felt hot a long time before that," Blossom added.

"He made us dinner, but he didn't make himself dinner," Bubbles reminisced while she was still trying to control her tears. "It was really good. I didn't like it that he wouldn't eat."

"We went to bed straight after that," Blossom said.

"Straight after? Like, immediately after?" the doctor questioned.

"Yeah, I was tired after dinner all of a sudden," Buttercup recalled.

"We didn't even take a bath or change before going into bed," Blossom then added.

"We slept in our party dresses," Bubbles added even further. "I felt all icky and sticky but I was too sleepy…"

Doctor Simmons could only suspect the worse. He got the Girls to stay at the stairs while he went over to the kitchen He searched the counter, the cabinets, but there was nothing. He checked the waste bin last, and found what he was looking for. A box of sleeping pills. He picked it out of the inner recesses of the bin, and opened the package. Empty except for the plastic and aluminium.

'Did Professor Utonium do what I think he did?' Doctor Simmons thought. 'No, it can't be. He wouldn't - he could have been taking the pills himself, or prescribed some to the Girls when he knew that he was becoming incapacitated.' Still, the possibility of it was disquieting.

"Girls, I'm taking you up to see your father," Doctor Simmons decided after a while. If there was one thing that could re-energize Professor Utonium, it was his adopted daughters. He led them up, holding Blossom's hand while the rest formed a chain again, just like how they used to when they thought that the stairs was the scariest thing in the world. "Just… Be gentle with him. He's still very ill."

But the Girls were anything but gentle. They'd burst into their Daddy's room like a rampaging horde of raiders, excited to be able to see him again. "Dad!" the Girls squealed almost in unison, with Buttercup jumping into his bed and Blossom coming up beside him. Bubbles was almost flying up to his lap, sitting on it. Professor Utonium hardly had the time to lift his head from his pillow to see them coming. But he didn't need to. Their laughter was a dead giveaway.

Yet even they could immediately tell that something was wrong. Even when he was fatigued, the professor would normally be very excited to be with them, but now, he simply closed his eyes as if in contemplation.

"Dad, what's wrong?" Buttercup asked sadly, when she noticed that he wouldn't even look at her. "Why won't you look at me anymore? Did I do something wrong?" All her fears were coming back to haunt her.

"Go away, Buttercup," the professor simply said weakly. "Bubbles, get off my legs." Bubbles did as she was told, in vain hope that maybe, just maybe, it would make all the sadness go away. But she knew right after that it wouldn't mean much.

The words cut deep, even deeper than what a Duranium scalpel could do. Buttercup's hands went up to her mouth, her face, when she felt something of an intensity she had never felt before. A mix of utter misery, abandonment and even disappointment and betrayal. Anger, intense anger.

Bubbles had felt the same, but her sensitivity made it worse. "Daddy, why are you saying such things?"

"I'm not your daddy anymore. You don't deserve a father like me," Professor Utonium said, his face a rock. The lack of tears made speculation for the worst easy. Blossom took him by the hand, afraid to let go.

"Dad, don't talk like that, please!" Blossom said desperately, her own eyes wet. "You said that you'll always be my father, and I'll always be your daughter!"

"I thought you're the smart one, Blossom. Didn't you hear what I said?" the professor said coldly, before tearing his arm away from her and rolling to his side to face away from her. But Buttercup was on the other side, so he pushed Buttercup away. The ravenette did not expect him to do that, so she fell down on her bum in bed. "Get lost!"

Bubbles, unable to take it anymore, ran out of the room in tears, her hands covering her eyes. The door was slammed so hard that the wood cracked, and the entire Powerpuff Task Force on site was sent up the second floor to check what had happened.

"Dad, please…" Blossom repeated herself, placing a hand on his shoulder. Professor Utonium simply shrugged away from her. Buttercup got off the bed and stomped away, completing the damage Bubbles had done to Professor Utonium's door. Blossom simply sunk onto the floor, wailing.

"I- I think visiting hours are over," the nurse said, sympathetic even though she had hardly met the Girls, before picking her up. "Come on, let's go. I'll make you hot chocolate if you do..."

"Noooo! No! Daddy, please!" Blossom cried and pushed her away. She continued crying on the floor, pounding her hands on the bed. "DAD!" Four soldiers had to carry her out, and even then, it was only because she wasn't angry enough to punch them across the room; that would be Buttercup's territory. "DAAAAAAAAAAAAD!"

Meanwhile, Doctor Simmons had come in a little too late, unable to do anything. "What the hell is going on here?" he asked the room impotently. By this time, there was only the nurse and Professor Utonium left, neither of whom were very inclined to speak.

"Jeez, Blossom, calm down a bit," Corporal Zach, one of the soldiers carrying Blossom to her room, said as he struggled with her. "It's just some daddy issues!"

"You're a real charmer, you know that?" Sergeant Rutherland said sarcastically. "Just shut up and do your job."

Agent Blake was already up, and he had seen enough to know what had happened. "This is Sierra-Lima, we're at Meltdown-1, over. Tantrum-1 as well. All personnel, Show a Good Example, I repeat, Show a Good Example." He went into the Girls' room, where four of his soldiers had just deposited Blossom in. The poor girl continued to cry on the floor. The other two were unaccounted for.

"Sir! Sir! It's Bravo-Four-Eight! She's gone out the door!" Agent Fields, his second-in-command, reported.

"Then talk to her and bring her back inside!" Agent Blake ordered through his mic.

"I can't, I tried chasing her down, but she was too fast! Like 50 miles an hour or something!" Agent Fields replied through the radio. Blake couldn't help but to feel a pang of guilt, that giant boulder in him that was present when he'd gotten people killed in the Vietnam War, in the operations since. He'd done it again. He hadn't gotten people killed yet, but he'd allowed the possibility by going soft – he didn't regret getting close to the Girls, but he'd regretted letting it got to his head. He had never felt such… parenthood before, even if it was temporary, and it was like candy, like drugs.

"Damn it! All units, we have a Run Away. I repeat, we have a Run Away! Inform Bravo-Papa units to conduct search pattern Spiral-Delta!" Agent Blake ordered, falling back to his old self.

"Bravo-Papa units, this is PTF-6. We have a Run Away event. Requesting a Spiral-Delta, over," it was the K-9 soldiers voice.

"This is Bravo-Papa-5, which Bravo is Running Away, over?" one of the border patrol officers asked.

"Bravo-Four-Eight is Running Away, over," K-9 Soldier said.

In the meantime, Agent Blake was working on damage control in The House. Blossom was accounted for, but Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. Leaving behind two soldiers with Blossom, he took the other two with him in search of her on the second floor. "All Sierras in Play Area, do a room-by-room search for Bravo-Four-Nine, level one and B-one."

"10-4, sir," third-in-command Anna sounded out from below.

Back in the room, Medical Director Simmons was glaring at Professor Utonium. He kind of knew what had gone down, and it must had been something to do with him. "What did you say to them?" he asked. The professor remained stubbornly silent. Only the heart-rate monitor told him something resembling the truth. The professors heart rate was elevated.

"Nurse, would you excuse us for a moment?" the doctor said. The nurse obliged, taking off quite readily. When he heard the door slamming and creaking from severe damage, he continued: "They were devastated. Heartbroken, Upton."

"So I heard," the professor finally said something, his voice hoarse, coming from a tunnel as parched as a desert.

"Jesus Christ, Thomas. What's going on with you?" Simmons asked, wondering. He pulled up a chair and sat down next to the professor. "I thought you loved those kids, adored them since the day they were born, and it's not like they're born twenty years ago."

Silence. Except for the hear rate monitor.

"I… I do. Still. So, so much," Professor Utonium confessed.

"Then why did I have to be the one to wipe Bubbles' tears away?" Doctor Simmons said. "What did you do yesterday?"

"I tried to kill them yesterday," Professor Utonium confessed. Tears welled up in his eyes. The feeling that came with it felt worse than the fever, felt worse than the two weeks of neglect he'd put himself through.

"That was two days ago, Upton. You were gone two days. The Girls missed you terribly," Doctor Simmons said.

"I meant what I said, Jacob. They don't deserve a father like me. They deserved better. Maybe it's a good idea that I drive them away now, make them hate me," the professor finally opened up. "I've failed them over and over. I couldn't protect them from the Organization, I couldn't protect them from anyone. And then I slipped them the pills, and when that didn't work, I almost shot them-" He broke up into tears, unable to speak any further.

"I understand, Upton," Doctor Simmons said.

"H-How could you? You're a part of the Organization," the professor said, almost with fury, but his illness had blunted it nearly beyond recognition. It got through to the doctor, however. The doctor rearranged himself on his seat. 'It's going to be a long day,' he thought.

"I'm only part of the Organization as much as you. Don't forget that you're not alone, son. You have friends, you know. Wiggums, Alice, your science staff. We're with you," the doctor said. "And you're now just stomping on our friendship. Let us help, Upton."

Silence.

"5 June 1940. Does that date mean anything to you?" the doctor asked, the question more rhetorical than answerable. Professor Utonium wasn't even born then. Predictably, he didn't answer the question. "The Nazis invaded the French before that. I was a young doctor like you once. Yes, even me. I was a Red Cross volunteer then. It wasn't the French POWs and their hopelessness that got to me. Do you know what did? It was the Jew concentration camps. Somehow, I had access to one of them. 'It's a waste of time,' one of the SS officers there said in German. 'They're all going to die anyway'. Still, I gave the kids there as much help as one doctor could give. There were hundreds of them, Upton, looking like little skeletons. The day before they were due to be shipped to the extermination camps, I despaired and overdosed as many as I could.

"I killed 63 of them myself, before the Germans could pack them like cattle into the death trains. They found out and threw me out. The Red Cross threw me out of the organization after that too. Next thing I heard, one of those trains were intercepted by the French Resistance. Their method was crude - they knocked off the train tracks and let the death train derail, but they saved whoever survived. It made me wonder - would any of the 63 children I killed survive had I not taken that chance away from them? I was stuck with that question for years, and even as World War II ended, the war inside me did not. I wandered for many years until the Organization found me."

"Why are you telling me this?" Professor Utonium asked, but Doctor Simmons smiled. At least he'd gotten his attention.

"You're where I was before. My 63 children are no longer here, but your three children are, and I think their chances are greater than those poor Jews. Return to them, before it's too late," Doctor Simmons reasoned with the man.

"But how? I tried to kill them. I can't ever forget that. I can't forget the lies I've told them. How can I ever smile at them again? I'm broken. And now I've hurt their feelings, and I know they're going to be hurt more, and it won't be just their feelings in the future," Professor Utonium lamented. His tears were flowing down his cheeks, but the doctor wiped them away, mingling them with Bubbles' tears.

"Time will heal all wounds. You're lying down in a room with a mass murderer, and I'm no psychopath. I've made many mistakes even after the 5th of June, 1940, but I can smile time and again. It wasn't an ideal decision I've made for those Jewish children, and that's an understatement, but… It's not my fault. It took years for me to see that; it was the Nazis' fault. Just as it isn't your fault that you tried to kill Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. You were just compelled to do so by forces beyond you. But you can fight back in your own way. Don't let them win, Upton," the doctor said further. The professor simply closed his eyes, saying nothing further. Medical Director Simmons thought that he was tired. He got up to leave. "Think about what I said."

Outside The House, Buttercup had crossed the snowy lawn within a second, coming through a hole in the fence and trespassing into the neighbors' lawn. She hid behind some tall bushes, and then followed it into the neighbors' backyard. Hearing with her enhanced senses that a car was coming, she hid inside a bush, shivering. She had only realized then that she had foregone her winter wear when she decided to run.

The car was far away, and the hum of the engine soon faded even further, at least a mile away, still. She lied down in the frozen soil, curling into a fetal position. "Dad hates me. He hates me! But- But- It can't be- He said he'd always be my father… He can't hate me…" she cried. She couldn't help but to leak a few tears, which turned to crystals quickly. "Stupid eyes! Why do you keep doing this!?"

Then came barks from the house. She could hear paws padding on wood, then snow. The barks became louder. The barks irritated her. Annoyed her. Here she was, having the worse crisis ever known to girldom, and a dog was barking at her. She crawled out of the bushes and into the snow, and she was met with a golden retriever, which backed away, but continued barking. "Stupid dog! Go away!" She'd finally learned the word 'stupid' from one of the soldiers.

But it did not listen, and instead kept scolding it in its own language. Buttercup became fuming mad, shaking with fury at the dog's discourtesy, as her hands went up to her head, as if trying to contain her brain, stopping it from exploding. Then something gave in her mind, and a demented smile soon spread across her face. She stared at the dog with hungry, lusty eyes. There was… a way the dog could make up for its disrespect.

"Here, doggy, doggy," Buttercup bent down, sticking a hand out, coaxing the dog to come closer. When it did not, she took steps towards the golden retriever. The dog continued barking, then stopped for a while. She picked up a stick that was sticking out of the ground. "Do you want this?"

The dog stuck its tongue out, then came closer. And closer. Its ears peaked. "Good doggy."

Then the dog lunged at her, biting her hand. Although its teeth couldn't sink much into her flesh, it still felt a little painful.

Buttercup stuck the stick into its eye, pushing half of it through the socket with ease, then delivered a punch across its skull as hard as she could. There was a sickening crunch and a yelp, the bony version of a vase breaking. The dog's neck snapped before its body was sent sprawling across the neighbors' snowy plain. "Bad doggy."

She'd totally meant it. Whether the dog attacked her or not, she would have done it. Buttercup couldn't help but to spread her smile wider, made it a toothy scream of a smile. She approached the instant dog carcass, then brought her foot down on the torso over and over, as if she was stomping on a bug. She heard ribs shattering, and delighted in it as the bones sang to her. She laughed and giggled uncontrollably. It helped her to forget, warding away the bad words that Daddy had spoken.

Then, with a single hand, she pulled the carcass into the bushes, like some predator looking to chow down on some hunted meat. Ever-curious about what was inside the body of a 'real' thing unlike dolls, she tore at the skin, exposing flesh and bones. Pebbles of shattered bones rained from the carcass. It reminded her of a Pinata she'd seen on television - would Dad ever give her one now? - and then she dug even further, spilling more blood. She took care not to let any get on her dress, as the last time she got some on her gloves, she was almost caught. She ripped out the intestines, then the stomach. But there seemed like there was a never-ending supply of blood, and, placated for now by her unconventional play-time, she decided that it was time to head inside.

Digging a quick grave behind the bushes, she deposited the mutilated dog corpse in it, and after washing her hands with the snow, buried the evidence with even more snow.

Then, leaping out of her hiding spot, she made a beeline towards the House, and let herself be caught by a group of PTF soldiers who were just done searching the House for her, and was fanning out to expand the search beyond. Agent Blake was with them.

"Where were you!?" Blake scolded. "You gave us quite a heart attack, young lady! Don't do it again, okay?"

"I'm sorry… I was just… Upset," Buttercup half-lied, shedding tears by thinking of her father. She was getting good at this. She didn't need to fake her shivers, however. Agent Blake picked her up, and Buttercup hugged him for warmth.

"It's alright," Agent Blake said. "C'mon, let's get you inside and warmed up."

"What's that smell?" one of the soldiers wondered.

"Probably just the dirt she was getting mixed up in," another soldier answered, and that was the end of that.

"This is Sierra-Lima of the PTF to Bravo-Papa, cancel Spiral-Delta. We've found her, over and out," the K-9 soldier with them, who also had a radio pack, reported to the border patrols.

Chapter Text

Townsville Tribune Extract 8 DEC 1988

The following are newspaper articles clandestinely supported by the Organization, which are preceded by days of preparations. They are boosted in the local news media to herald the entrance of the Organization as the United States Defence Organization into the public consciousness, especially in Townsville.

TOWNSVILLE KNOWN AS CRIMESVILLE, USA

Townsville, despite its name, is home to six million and a hundred and fifteen thousand denizens, not counting the transient population. Some would think that there are more criminals than people. In a Times article published just a month ago, Townsville is named the city with the worst crime rates in the United States, and one of the worst in the world. Townsville is ranked highest in all categories of crime, aggravated or not, for the past 15 years.

What is worst of all is that there is no sign of it ever going away. The city has also joined the top 10 list of the most corrupt city in the USA, with the police 'dirty rate' estimated to be at 40%, and that is based on a UN task force's assessment, which was forced to pull out half a year ago due to assassination attempts, unsuccessful and otherwise. Top officials, at least some of them, believe it to be as high as 59% to 65%. Some experts, including clinical psychiatrist Dr. Tony Leland, believes it to be lower, at 21% to 33%, citing the fact that some cops and city officials are forced to blend in.

Some will even describe Townsville as a sinking ship, with an endless number of holes to patch up. The more daring ones will even cite that Mayor Wilford, who have served the city in numerous capacities for sixty years, to be one of them.

"No disrespect to the man - he's one of the few politicians I actually trust - but he's old-fashioned, and his mind is going. Expanding the police force just isn't enough - you're just increasing the number of corrupt cops that way. Why, just a month ago, he was talking about bringing back Prohibition and applying it to anything vice or resembling vice - if that's a sign that he's becoming senile and in need of impeachment, then I don't know what is," one of Mayor Wilford's detractors, Professor McQuinn, pHD in Political Sciences, of Townsville University, comments.

When asked for his opinion on the 'many holes' of USS Townsville, Police Commissioner Davis, who was cleared of corruption charges 3 years ago, listed these factors like they are written off the back of his hand:

Gangland Tradition - Townsville has been the home of dozens of gangs, some of whom have roots going back as far as a two hundred years, not all of whom are homegrown. While there are often power struggles and shifts in the status quo, citizens are always downtrodden because of this - it only means paying a different man for 'protection', and each change means different rules and an increased 'protection fee' because of the gang wars. Most recently, the mysterious 'Amoeba Boys' have emerged and brought the Lombardi family to the top of the game.

Corruption - With the history of Townsville crime stretching back centuries, the legal system in Townsville has only weakened with bribery an everyday routine, favors being bought and sold like stocks and candy, and a significant minority of the police force moonlighting as enforcers. Government officials are similarly compromised.

Paralysis - So bad is the corruption, in fact, that court cases for even the most basic of crimes could drag on for weeks and months, and even those criminals who are convicted are given much lighter sentences compared to criminals of other US cities and regions. The Townsville Police Department is regarded as inefficient than most other similar organizations, and is only tolerated because the honest cops the city produced are also said to be forged by blood and steel, and are among the best in the country.

Poverty - Townsville is host to a significant slum and tenement wealth gap has only exacerbated the situation. This has led to the creation of numerous breeding zones for criminals, and there is even an informal career ladder for those deciding to get into crime. Common thugs grow on the streets, who will either form their own gangs or join one after committing a feat of crime. They may rise through the ranks to become a Godfather-type figure or die trying.

Vice - Townsville had put up no barrier to vices such as gambling and prostitution since the end of Prohibition. With the exception of the business and government districts, as well as the suburbs, the city is crawling with casinos, gambling dens, brothels, bars, strip clubs and other less savory places that have multiplied over the last two decades. With crime and corruption at an all-time high, these places often serve as criminal headquarters and outposts, and doubles as fronts, drug dens, warehouses or negotiation places. They are also an important part of the criminal underground's income.

Untaxed Wealth - Peculiarly, Townsville remains rich even as it approaches its second decade of a spiraling descend into becoming an absolute crime haven. Despite numerous seizures of illegal goods and monies by the police amounting to millions a year, the criminal underground remains incredibly profitable and well-funded, on par with the police and even surpassing them, as it is hard to estimate money that is laundered and hidden. There has also been seizures of minerals and gold and other precious metals that couldn't be traced inside or outside of Townsville. There is nothing but rumors that the several cults operating in Townsville, themselves occasionally involved in crime, have something to do with this.

'Super-Crime': Compounding the problem is the rise of what Commissioner Davis termed 'Super-Crime', which involves the 'Amoeba Boys' as well. Criminals are said to have made the jump to a next level, with even the most heroic and die-hard cops being unable to capture them. The mysterious 'Naga' is another such example, with the cops unable to make heads or tails of the crime scene she leaves behind. Apparently, she is so skilled with firearms and hand-to-hand weapons that it seems as if she has four arms, according to forensic investigators, basing their claim on evidences such as shell casings and wounds sustained by her victims.

Despite this, the citizens of Townsville had maintained a kind of hard-boiled, weathered hope for a brighter future. Despite the toxic level of crime and corruption, the population growth here has only seen a positive trend, as business and work remains abundant, still, having been entrenched in the city ever since what is known as the Golden Age of Townsville, a period from 1930 to 1960 when the city quadrupled in size and by even greater factors in wealth and affluence, outgrowing its name. Despite having to pay corrupt cops and criminal gangs alike for protection, the middle and high class remain marginally wealthier than their neighbors in the surrounding regions, and the poor remain mostly fed, clothed and sheltered, even if still very much poor. Even with the dead piling up and victims increasing, the unscathed will always remain confident that they won't be next - at least until they join the affected.

Most of the local folks still remember the days when crime and corruption were mostly under control, with the criminal underground being terrified of the police and government and not the other way around. Townsville had seen reversals in the eternal battle against crime before, twice, both in the 19th century and during and after Prohibition, and some believe that there will be a third, and hopefully, final time.

HOPE IN THE HORIZON?

THE USDO DOES THE UNEXPECTED

In a city like Townsville where the World War equivalent of a desperate struggle against crime is fought everyday on the streets, where nothing has changed for the past two decades that the locals are becoming used to stepping over dead bodies and turning the other cheek to drugs, something new is good news indeed.

In a series of events that took Townsville by shock and surprise, and even the entire nation, a new federal agency has just revealed itself to the media across the world. Known vaguely as the United States Defence Organization, or USDO for short, it has introduced itself by offering a nugget of information concerning itself as a gesture of goodwill: it was once a secret organization that had existed since just after World War II, and has been working in secret to develop new technologies for use in defence and more recently, law enforcement. They are an organization with about two hundred men and women already present in the city.

Now, they have set their sights on Townsville, and will be in negotiations with the local government, represented by Mayor Wilford, to assist the beleaguered city in ridding it of crime and corruption.

A heavily protected convoy of USDO officials in military-styled Humvees was seen at 9:15pm, 7 DEC 1988 (yesterday), unmarked and heavenly-white, pulling up at the City Hall, unafraid of travelling the dark streets of the city. The City Hall itself is guarded by multiple squad cars and SWAT units. Men and women in business suits alighted from these vehicles, surrounded by security officers in gray uniforms and what appear to be soldiers in black gear. Sources say that they are comprised of key USDO leadership and negotiators.

Speculations abound as to how the USDO will assist in reducing crime and corruption rates in our fair city. While it is not out of the question that USDO federal manpower will be directly assisting the local police, there is also the possibility that aid might come in the form of advanced technology as well. Only time will reveal the method to this new kid around the block.

Will this spell the end of crime and corruption in the city? Or is this merely an escalation in the war against crime, a new stage in a never-ending struggle? Analyst believes that this is a positive step towards a safer, cleaner Townsville, but there is no telling what will happen next and a regression into a worse state is possible, considering the inexperience and small size of the newly-minted USDO. No matter what happens, it will be a long and hard-fought battle against the shadier elements of the embattled city.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: On the Mend

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

8 DEC 1988. 1145.

"I'm so sorry, Girls," a familiar voice said. Buttercup could hear it on the way out of the second floor bathroom. She had been sitting in the bathtub, immersed in hot water for the past hour with Agent Blake for company, who sat beside her with a guns magazine, no longer as freaked out at the idea of tending to the Girls' hygiene needs.

She followed the voice to Professor Utonium's room. Four plainclothes officers were guarding the ruined door to the room. One of them glanced in her direction, but he treated her like it was business as usual.

"I'm sorry too," she heard Blossom said.

"Me three," and Bubbles too.

"Please, don't be. It's all my fault, all mine," she heard the familiar voice said again. It was Professor Utonium's voice. She took a peek into the room, and saw her sisters in Daddy's arms. For some reason, she felt betrayed, again; while she was warming up in the bathtub, they had reunited without her, as if… They could do without her.

Professor Utonium's eyes shifted from her sisters to catching her in the hallway. "Buttercup!" he cried in joy. Buttercup stopped hiding and stepped into the doorway, padding towards Daddy's bed. She couldn't help but to frown at the man. "Buttercup, Daddy's sorry. I'm sorry for all the things I've said."

Buttercup came closer, her face still contorted with anger. She folded her arms, seriously unhappy. "You said some mean things, Daddy."

"I know, I just- It's complicated. And I'm sorry. Please, come here," the professor apologized. Buttercup stared at him with intent, calculating in her own way, even though she knew nothing about numbers.

"Am I still your daughter? Should I still call you Daddy now?" Buttercup asked, her words cutting as deep as his, a kind of tit-for-tat that was more than what normal little girls were capable of.

"Yes. I was wrong, and I have lots of explaining to do…" the professor said. Reluctantly, Buttercup came up to him, climbed up to his lap, shifted to straddling on his stomach, and then hugged him. The moment she felt him, she smiled, and hugged him even tighter.

"I've said before that the three of you are special," the professor said, his voice a tired whisper. "But not just because you're all my little girls."

The Girls let go. Buttercup sat on his lap, Bubbles next to him in bed and Blossom stood beside him.

"What do you mean?" Blossom asked, always the curious one who needed to know. Professor Utonium was at a lost for words. 'Should I tell them everything?' he thought. He thought long and hard.

"What do you mean, Daddy?" Blossom repeated her question again. 'No,' the professor thought better of it. He hated lying to the Girls. Hell, it was one of those things that nearly got all of them killed in the first place. But to reveal everything would be like jumping into the rabbit hole. He was well aware that one of those lies was the fact that he wasn't quite their father. Sure, he'd created them in a lab, but even that wasn't the whole truth. The Organization had set things up for them to be created, some twenty years in the making. Jojo, his lab assistant, heck, the entire science department of the Organization had a part to play. He couldn't explain all of that to the Girls for now; they wouldn't understand.

No, they weren't ready for the whole truth, at least not yet. He himself felt unready for it.

"Dad?" Bubbles prompted him again.

"You see… I'm sure the three of you have noticed how strong and fast you are, and there's no one else like you," the professor meandered in his attempts to whitewash the truth, simplify it for three little girls. Already, he had told them another lie. No, there were others who were somewhat like them, all failed experiments who were either unfit for military or law enforcement service to begin with, or were rendered unfit for military or law enforcement service by the Chemical X precursor trials.

"Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup…" the professor could feel his heart thumping hard in his chest. Thank God that the heart rate monitor was removed. "You're all meant to be heroines, to fight crime."

"What do you mean?" Bubbles, ever the innocent one, asked.

"Crime is when people do bad things, really bad things. Remember when I first brought the three of you out to shopping? And people were hurting each other, and there was an explosion?" the professor explained.

"We're supposed to stop people from doing bad things?" Blossom asked - the professor couldn't remember the last time she had asked a rhetorical question.

"But why would you say that you're not our father because of that?" Buttercup questioned, direct and to the point. "Fighting sounds like fun."

"Buttercup, it's not. You see, remember when I said that the world outside is dangerous? That people will hate you, sometimes for all the wrong reasons? For no reason at all?" Professor Utonium tried to make them recall.

"Yes…" Blossom said, remembering it all. It would be hard not to. Buttercup echoed her sentiment.

"I got scared, Girls," the professor confessed, trying to keep his tears from spilling. His voice wavered instead. "I was afraid that you three would get hurt outside, and really badly too. I was afraid that your feelings would be hurt and…" 'Should I even try to explain how I tried to kill them two days ago?' he thought. 'Is it even possible to?' It was all so difficult, and he felt like he was reaching another tipping point.

"Dad, it's okay," Blossom tried to calm him down. He didn't realize it, but his lips were trembling. He bit on them to make it stop. Blossom moved to hug his arm. Bubbles hugged his other arm and Buttercup dug at his side, snuggling with him.

"And I don't want the three of you to do something like that, especially when you don't want to," the professor said, hugging them back.

"But I want to, Dad," Blossom said. "I wished I could have done something that day. If I'm meant to fight crime and be a heroine, I want to."

"Yeah, it'd be fun. Right, Bubbles?" Buttercup said, almost trembling with excitement.

"I don't know, I think so…" Bubbles agreed halfheartedly, meekly, unsure of what she was getting into. The truth was, none of them knew what they were getting into. In Blossom's mind, she thought that it meant speaking to people and getting them to be nice to each other. To Bubbles, it was to smile at them and play with them so that they'd be too busy to be mean. It'd worked on Buttercup before, which meant that it was a validated tactic. Buttercup was the only one of the three to think of violence as an option first. Because explosions were fun, and fighting sounded cool, too. The green-eyed girl certainly knew how to make something stop - after all, her punches and kicks had silenced a cat and a dog thus far, making sure that they wouldn't be mean to her again.

The Girls' admission to their enthusiasm for crime-fighting did not dampen Professor Utonium's fears and concerns one bit. Rightly, he thought that they had no idea how it was like. A wave of lethargy overcame him, and he sighed in exhaustion. There was so much to think about…

"I think your father needs some rest, younglings," the nurse said as she was coming in.

"But can we stay with him?" Bubbles asked.

"I'll be fine," the professor said. "Girls, you can't stay in here all day."

Agent Blake had been watching them since the middle of their conversation. He didn't want to intrude on their privacy, but it was hard to. The professor's door had fallen off its hinges, and it would be a day before Wiggums' contractors could arrive to fix it. He leaned against the frame of the ruined doorway, admiring the family. When the Girls refused to budge, and the nurse could do nothing about it, he padded into the room, right up to the professor and the GIrls.

"I'll take care of them," Agent Blake promised. "Girls, you need to let your father rest, or he'll get sicker…" When he lifted Buttercup off Professor Utonium's lap, she didn't resist, knowing full well even with her 2-week-old mind that it was true. He did the same with Bubbles, then led Blossom away from her creator by the hand. Before the security lieutenant could leave, however, Professor Utonium took him by the arm, his grip surprisingly tight, almost hurting him.

"If you so much as touch a hair on their head…" the professor threatened, keeping it down so that the Girls, who were at the doorway, couldn't hear.

"Professor Utonium, when you were out, I had every opportunity to 'touch a hair on their head' for the past two days and I didn't. You know why?" Agent Blake said, his face soft, no longer as psychopathic as the professor remembered. Even at this point, in his drug-addled mind, the professor could see that something had changed in him.

"Because you're a dog on a leash?" the professor tried. He wasn't a man of faith. He had to see before he'd know.

"Because I finally understand why you love the Girls so much," Agent Blake admitted. "You have my word that I'll keep them safe while you work on getting back on your feet."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. Water Tower 5B.

8 DEC 1988. 1200.

It was the perfect vantage point, far enough from Organization lines and yet close enough for Jojo's stolen computerized binoculars to work. And they had been watching all this time. Dressed and heavily disguised as city plumbing maintenance workers, Jojo and Naga had been spying on The House and the Organization movement there for hours. The block where Professor Utonium was held in was heavily guarded, patrolled, like a priceless art piece or gold in Fort Knox, and Organization presence had only been reinforced day after day around the area.

"So, tell me again how you intend to speak to your 'father' with all that security?" Naga questioned Jojo. It was the third time on the tower. She found Jojo's manner of speech entertaining, but she had also found it fascinating how his mind worked - how much it resembled a fusion between an organic brain and a calculating computer colder than the current winter. Besides, if there was a way to motivate someone to do as she wished, it was to keep bringing up the topic over and over - twist the knife in their gut, so to speak.

"If I were to divulge my plans, strategies and grand scheme to you, will you keep quiet and absolutely mum while I concentrate and focus on the calculations, matrices and scheming in my mind?" Jojo asked, pissed at her interruption once more. It wasn't frequent, and it did almost nothing to his power of attention, but it was an annoyance. However, Naga did ensure that he didn't need to spend all his time scavenging for sustenance or materials any longer. She'd moved him to a Foundation safehouse too, which was a mark up in terms of facilities and hygiene compared to the sewers.

"Yes..?" Naga agreed, though it meant little as she had done so each time she'd asked him for his grand scheme.

"I have established, which is to say, mapped and drawn out the Organization's patrol routes, concentration of forces and resources, as well as guard rotations and did I mention patrol routes? Yes. I have been making minor adjustments to my calculations, mathematical formulas, as well as possible and projected changes in their patrol routes, concentration of forces and resources, and I know the exact time I will be going in, and I will be able to head in with very little resources involved," Jojo explained. His plans had changed slightly, included more variables. Naga would be lying if she could do the same as he did.

"And when exactly will you be heading in?" Naga asked again.

"In the cover of darkness, which is night or midnight. I have narrowed it down to 11:15pm or 12:15am, but not today," Jojo said.

"Not today!?" Naga raised her voice. She had hoped that she could get Jojo's agenda out of the way in order to officially recruit him, but… "Then when!?"

"Patience! Have a little perseverance and restraint!" Jojo scolded, annoyed once more. "This day is not ideal or perfect, nor this night. The House, as the Organization, or the United States Defence Organization, calls it, is now occupied." He patted on a radio beside him. "Intercepting their radio signals was easy, elementary, simple, for a Chimpanzee of my stature, mojo, intelligence. I know what had happened to have caused this, and I know what will happen to undo the increased, escalated, higher presence of the security force in The House. Patience is all I need now, perseverance!"

"I still don't understand why you won't leverage our firepower to your bidding. We could punch right through their security patrols now, and take your father away by force," Naga said. "But we have to do it now, as their numbers will only keep growing!"

"No! It is not what my father, my sire, would have wanted!" Jojo rejected, his nostrils flaring once more, his breath puffing visibly from his mouth rapidly.

"You destroyed an entire outpost, Jojo," Naga reminded the Chimpanzee. "Yes, we know about that as well. We have our sources."

"That was out of necessity, as my hand was forced. They plotted and planned to kill me and I was forced into a cell like an animal, a feral thing, a non-person!" Jojo said. "But now, now I am free, liberated, I have conquered my right to do as I wish! So now, I will stay calm and collected, and do as my father have taught me."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

8 DEC 1988. 1237.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had been left largely alone in their rooms, which was a luxury ever since the 'neighbors' had taken over The House to help them. But it wasn't something that would last. Agent Blake had seen to it that the time taken to rotate the guards was only stretched out by ten minutes, to provide the Girls with the 'privacy' and 'quiet time' they needed. Even then, the PTF soldiers and security officers wouldn't be far away, with four of the latter being posted outside Professor Utonium's.

"Buttercup, come join us! Whitey and Bunny are having a great time!" Blossom invited. Blossom and Bubbles had taken this time to do a tea party with the vacated table and stools.

"Yeah, and Octi is here, too!" Bubbles added, hoping that Octi's presence would make it more enticing for Buttercup. She had vastly overvalued her favorite soft toy's ability to attract her sister, for Buttercup had something more interesting to play with.

Buttercup had pulled the pistol she had found from underneath the bed. Hiding out of view from her siblings, she started fiddling around with it.

"Buttercup!" Blossom called to her sister again. "We have tea! It's tasty!" And the Girls weren't pretending in that area. The PTF soldiers had procured for them tea bags and boiled water for their activity before leaving.

"I'm not interested!" Buttercup called from the bed, not even distracted at all from her new toy. To her, the pistol was like a puzzle box, and there were buttons and moving parts, too. For now, she was preoccupied with a tube down the middle of the gun. She pointed the gun at her own eye as she stared into the barrel, wondering what could be inside. But there was nothing. Without knowing it, she had even used her eyes as a torchlight to see into the gun better. But it was just a tube, with nothing inside - no candy, no ice cream, and certainly no chocolate like the waste bin. But it had to contain something!

She started playing around with it again, and managed to pull the slide. It felt as thought something had clicked inside. But what? A present? Hugging the gun with the barrel pointed at her chest, she started pulling and pushing and even trying to open different parts of the thing, wondering if she had gone on to the 'next level' of the puzzle.

That was when her fingers had caught the trigger and pulled it.

BANG!

The gunshot could be heard throughout the entire House. Professor Utonium had practically jumped into a sitting-up position and it'd had the four guards outside pull their pistols out in an instant. The PTF soldiers below were sent running up the stairs.

But it was Professor Utonium who was the first to get to the room, and on his approach, he could hear crying from all the Girls. 'Oh no,' he thought. 'No, no, no, no, no, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!' He thought he might have verbalized some of that. With a few security officers behind him and coming up fast, he threw open the door and ran in.

"Girls! What happened!" the professor yelled, looking all over the room. Blossom and Bubbles were hugging each other, terrified of the gunshot that had torn past the House. It didn't take long for him to hear the moaning and sniffling and weeping coming from behind the bed. "BUTTERCUP! NO!"

He rounded the bed and saw Buttercup lying on the floor, clutching her chest with both hands. The expression on her face was one of wretched pain as she gritted her teeth with eyes forced shut in utter agony. The pistol she had shot herself with was lying not far from her, still smoking. It was HIS pistol, HIS responsibility. Taking it and putting it on safety, putting it out of reach, he reached out to Buttercup. Security officers poured into the room, guns drawn, shouting cryptic combat codes.

"Put down your guns!" Professor Utonium shouted at them. "I don't need anymore accidents!"

Professor Utonium pulled at Buttercup's hands, trying to see the damage done, but Buttercup would not budge, her hands still cupping the unseen wound on her chest, her face still screwed up in pain.

"Let me- Let me see!" the professor said as he tried to get Buttercup to let go. "Buttercup! Please!"

It took a while before Buttercup dared let go, but when she did, Professor Utonium saw no blood, not even a hole in her chest. The only sign that she had been shot was a bullet-shaped hole in her dress, some scorch marks and the bullet itself, which had deformed itself against Buttercup's body, resembling a raindrop in mid-collision.

"It hurts! Daddy, it hurts!" Buttercup cried. She was still on the floor, somehow paralyzed by the gunshot despite there being no damage. The professor pinched the bullet with his thumb and index and lifted it. There was not even a blister, sore or bruise underneath it.

"Buttercup, you're fine," Professor Utonium said, a relieved smile, a little delayed, soon spread across his lips. "Buttercup, you're okay!" He laughed, and picked up Buttercup to hug her.

"I- I am?" Buttercup said. "But it was so loud!" But the fact that the pain was fading quickly from her chest made it clear that she was made of stronger stuff. Buttercup let go of her Daddy, before examining herself, seeing the hole in her dress. The professor showed her the bullet.

But the professor's relief had lasted only just as long as Buttercup's pain. "How did you get that gun?" he asked, stern all of a sudden that he was scaring even the super-powered girl.

"I found it," Buttercup said, still wincing at the non-existent gunshot wound. She volunteered no more information than that. It'd brought the professor back to a time before he fainted. Buttercup was fast becoming a compulsive liar, and he didn't like it one bit.

"You found it while I was in the lab, did you?" the professor pressed the girl.

"Y-yes," Buttercup gave in, now looking at her feet.

"Don't do that again, you understand?" Professor Utonium warned, perhaps appearing stricter than he wanted to, on account of his health. "This is how the world outside is going to be like. You're going to find dangerous things out there, Buttercup, and you can't just touch everything like that."

"But I'm fine, Dad," Buttercup countered.

"You might not be one day if you keep trifling with things you don't know. And I'm not just talking about things you can pick up," the professor said.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she apologized.

"I'm sorry, too," the professor said, tried to defuse the situation by planting a kiss on her forehead. He was sure now; he wasn't going to try to leave them again. They needed him, now more than ever. While the accident with Buttercup and the pistol had proven that they couldn't be gunned down the moment they stepped into a crime-in-progress, they were still entirely vulnerable. Not every threat would come as honest and direct as bullets. No, there were more insidious things out there that could do far more damage than a bullet ever could, and if the Girls had any weaknesses, it was that they could feel emotions as much as anyone, and their minds were as human as the next little girl's. Any day now, and they would be out in the streets. Running away from that fact was wrong, and now he was going to put things right once more.

Chapter Text

Joint Townsville-USGO Project Powerpuff Deployment Talks Transcript 12081988

DOC: 08 DEC 1988.

The following has been reconstructed from video and audio recordings.

START TRANSCRIPT

(The Location: Townsville City Hall)

(Townsville Attendants: Mayor Wilford and staff. Police Commissioner Davis and direct subordinates, including multiple Police Chiefs. The District Attorney and his assistants are present. Key municipal officials are also present.)

(USGO Attendants: Organization Chief Cliff and staff. Chief of Security Blackwater and staff. Liaisons Head Bellum.)

(Time: 1314. The talk is in the main hall, which is emptier than usual due to the exclusiveness of the talk. Representatives of Townsville and USGO are seated on opposite sides of the city hall.) The entrance is guarded by USGO SWAT officers.)

Organization Chief Cliff: I would like to thank you all, representatives of Townsville, Mayor Wilford especially, for making this possible.

Mayor Wilford: Why, it's my pleasure, Cliff. I'm happy to oblige since you've cleaned up your act on my request. I've dealt with many federal agencies in my time, and they didn't budge like you did.

Organization Chief Cliff: And I'm sure we won't regret it. Bellum?

Liaisons Head Bellum: As all who are present may be concerned, we are here today to discuss the deployment of our crime-fighting solution, the result of Project Powerpuff. The agenda of the day is to decide on the manner of which They may be deployed to serve the City of Townsville. But first, for the benefit of those who aren't here yesterday, of which there's an abundance of, due to the top secret nature of these proceedings, we will have a quick recap of yesterday's session.

(Bellum opens a file and flips through it)

Yesterday, we've settled on a general agreement that USGO manpower, including security forces and support personnel, will assist in directly policing the city. With corruption at an all-time high, the USGO will serve as a neutral third-party force. The USGO will build up its forces from the current 200 up to a strength of 2,000 in the city. As our numbers are small, we will focus our efforts on high-profile missions; the protection of VIPs, major investigations, major raids on the criminal elements, and the deployment of Project Powerpuff. You will find that we are much more potent than our small size will indicate. Unlike the TPD, we are allowed to completely militarize our forces, multiplying our effectiveness. If the results of Project Powerpuff is positive, we can expect our three subjects to serve as they are intended, with each of them the equivalent of an entire army.

(Flips through file again)

Moving on, to assist with the integration of the USGO into the local law enforcement scene, we will be allowed to take over several public buildings to serve as our headquarters and outposts, and USGO members will be given full jurisdiction over the entire city and county, in addition to their federal-level powers. USGO members will also be given limited authority over the TPD. We have also agreed that the City of Townsville will pay a token 20% of the costs of USGO operations in the city, as well as 25% of the operational costs incurred by Project Powerpuff, if we can agree on the terms of their deployment.

(There are murmurs of disagreements or agreements. Mayor Wilford appears still, staring with his one good monocled eye at Liaisons Head Bellum, perhaps seeing something in her. Both his hands were balanced on a cane as he sits at the head of the Townsville representatives.)

(Liaisons Head Bellum whispers something into the mic on her blouse. The projector screen at the front of the hall lights up, playing footage showing the subjects of Project Powerpuff)

We, again, apologize for not coming forward with evidences of our claims on our first meeting, and it is with great pride that we show these footage of our Project Powerpuff subjects.

(Footage 1, a video from 'Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Strength Test 1 Log' shows Agent Utonium carrying, or failing to carry, a 200lbs steel weight. Then B-47 (Blossom) taking over and picking it up with no apparent difficulty. B-48 (Buttercup) and B-49 (Bubbles) follows suit)

(Footage 2 shows a video from 'Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's W2 Speed Test 1 Log', with Agent Utonium almost tripping on a treadmill at 10mph, then with B-47 (Blossom) taking over and easily managing 25mph. B-49 (Bubbles) follows suit, followed by B-48 (Buttercup) doing the same thing, except dialing up the speed to 28mph. The machine breaks down, launching B-48 (buttercup) into the machine's dashboard head-first. It attracts yelps and cries from the Townsville audience. B-48 cries in front of the camera, and Agent Utonium proceeds to hug and coo her. B-48 smiles, her face clearly unharmed from the accident.)

(Footage 3 shows clips from '12051988 W2 Series Tests', showing B-47, B-48 and B-49 to be capable of much higher carry capacity. It ends with Professor Utonium's explanation and demonstration of the subjects' ability to resist puncturing and cutting forces from objects less harder than crude duranium.)

Police Commissioner Davis: One minor question. Don't you think that it is a huge problem if we start sending kids out into the field? Ain't no one's going to accept that. Not my boys, not the public. Where the 'ell you even get them from, anyway?

Chief of Security Blackwater: We grew them in the labs. They may look like children, but they are not quite. The videos we showed you should be evidence of that. So, don't think of them as children. Think of them instead as… organic weapon platforms for crime-fighting.

(Blackwater attracts a lot of murmurs from the Townsville side of the hall.)

Police Commissioner Davis: Sure, call them what you want, but most of the folks in this city won't take well to this.

District Attorney: Say we deploy these… Erm… Three kids of the 'Project Powerpuff', it's going to start something, and I don't just mean the fireworks. It's going to call a lot of laws into question. I'm referring to child labor laws, and that's just the start. When were they born? Have they been granted US citizenship?

Organization Chief Cliff: As my colleague has said, these… things are not children. They were created exactly 17 days ago. They are property of the USGO, not citizens.

(Louder murmurs resulted this time)

Police Chief Jonas: So we aren't sending kids into the streets, we're putting babies out there instead.

(A round of laughter resulted from the Townsville representatives. Mayor Wilford, Police Commissioner Davis and District Attorney remains stoic)

Chief of Security Blackwater: They are fully-formed and estimated to be physically 5 years old. As of this date, they are already capable of most things 5-year-olds could do.

Police Commissioner Davis: 'Capable of most things 5-year-olds could do'?

Organization Chief Cliff: (holds up a piece of paper) As of my earliest report, they have a vocabulary approaching a thousand words, they speak English with few grammatical errors, and they can understand it just as easily. Their motor functions have approached that of 5-year-olds.

Police Chief Jonas: Sounds like my kids could do better. They sound like they belong in kindergarten, Cliff.

Organization Chief Cliff: Can your kids learn a thousand words within three weeks of birth? I'm saying that there's no telling how smart they'll get within another three weeks. For all we know, they could graduate from college within three months.

Police Commissioner Davis: I'll believe it when I see it. Kids, you know, they learn fast when they're young, but you know what they say: as they get older…

Mayor Wilford: (leans on his cane and stands up. He clears his throat. Everyone falls silent.) Assuming that we are in favor of the deployment of this… 'Project Powerpuff', how do you propose we use them? It's a major pickle, from the looks of it, to even get them to where they need to be, or to get them to do what my professionals do.

Liaisons Head Bellum: Mayor, if you will, sir. We wish to set up a dedicated hotline between your government and Project Powerpuff. The Girls are surrounded by some of our very best, and they will handle them for you. The hotline will be available to you and your highest ranking officials and officers. They'll be brought to whatever locations you need them to be in the fastest sports cars on the planet.

Mayor Wilford: That's a start. (looks like he is going to say something more, but lowers himself into his seat with the help of his cane instead.)

Police Commissioner Davis: And how will they be equipped?

Chief of Security Blackwater: We have just received a call from one of our agents in the… House where the subjects are kept. They are now at least naturally Type II-A or Type III.

Mayor Wilford: What does that mean?

Police Commissioner Davis: It means they're bulletproof, Mayor.

Chief of Security Blackwater: But we're not taking any chances. They'll come equipped in the best possible personal protection we can give them, and seeing that they can carry hundreds of pounds of steel without breaking a sweat, weight is not a problem.

Police Commissioner Davis: And I suppose you'll be handing out guns to children now?

Chief of Security Blackwater: No.

Police Chief Jonas: Great, now we're sending babies to fight crime barehanded? This is a circus!

(Raucous laughter results. Mayor Wilford, Police Commissioner Davis and District Attorney remains unimpressed.)

Chief of Security Blackwater: (stares at Police Chief Jonas with great intensity) Perhaps I wasn't clear about the capabilities of these… 'babies', and the footage we've brought are abridged, so let me break it down to you what they're capable of. Kate?

Security Captain Kate: (holds up a piece of document) Bulletproof level Type II-A to Type III, possibly more. Our field researcher estimates at least 1,500 pounds maximum carry capacity and 75 miles an hour top speed on foot. Their hair was observed to be flame retardant, so it is a good bet that it applies to their entire body. They are also highly resistant to anaesthetics, sleeping pills and God knows what other chemicals anyone can throw at them.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Thank you, Kate. Imagine one of those kids running up to you at 75 miles an hour with a punch that could send a car rolling down a street. They'll laugh off knife cuts and blunt force trauma, and you can't shoot them dead or torch them with molotovs. They can't be assassinated or kidnapped. Do you think they still need guns?

Police Commissioner Davis: Hold up, didn't your doctor say that they'd get cut by… What do you call it again?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Exactly. If you've never heard of it, then I doubt those scum on the other side have. It's the only thing that might kill the girls, but it's so hard to produce and so expensive that it's rare and exclusive to only one agency we know of.

Police Commissioner Davis: And what agency is that?

Chief of Security Blackwater: One that no one knows about. The identity of both the metal and agency will remain inaccessible and nothing's going to change that.

Police Commissioner Davis: I'm not so sure about that. You don't know Townsville like I do. If they want something, they'll get it.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Not this time. Not with us around.

(Silence on the floor)

District Attorney: Wait a second here, we still haven't talked about the legal side of things! That's what separates us from them. Now, about the laws that apply to children…

Organization Chief Cliff: We've already spoken to the governor of this state, the Senate and the White House. They are already in talks to make an exclusion clause just for them, to any laws applying to children. Their eyes are open. Are yours?

District Attorney: I guess we could fall in line and apply those laws to our city…

Police Commissioner Davis: Still wouldn't change public perception, I bet.

Organization Chief Cliff: We'll handle that. We're augmenting our media team for conventional operations even as we speak. There is one other thing - we will need to agree on what to deploy the three subjects for, initially. We will need to test them first, before we fully utilize them on a bigger scale.

Police Commissioner Davis: Now that - that's a tough question ain't it? What can I do with a bunch of illiterate 5-year-olds with superhuman strength? I can't have them issue parking tickets. They're not police officers, so I can't have them walk the beat. They're not smart enough for undercover duties even though they'd look great for some of those human trafficking rings and deviant brothels. I'm not even sure if they can handle a radio.

Organization Chief Cliff: And they won't have to. Give us something straight-forward, and we'll handle our subjects the best we can. Something that would just require B-47, B-48 and B-49 to crush something head-on.

Police Commissioner Davis: 'Haps I can use those peewee human tanks to break up some of them sieges we've been having. Bank robberies, high-rise criminal strongholds we've been busting. It'd give you time to mobilize 'em, too.

Chief of Security: I like the sound of that. We can have that.

Organization Chief Cliff: Agreed.

Mayor Wilford: (stands up once more. The crowd goes silent) Very well. But before anything moves in my city, I would like to meet them. Speak with them, perhaps understand them a little. See if they should even put themselves out there.

(The hall bursts into chatters)

Chief of Security Blackwater: Mayor, that is not necessary. It will not do. It will entail too much security preparations, not to mention a risk to the classified phase of our current plans. You'll be delaying the deployment of Project Powerpuff! Besides, like I said-

Mayor Wilford: (stares at Blackwater with his one good monocled eye with some intensity. He leans against the banister and points his cane at Blackwater) Don't tell me what to do in my city, boy. If some girls are going to risk their pretty necks for the city, I would like to see them first. And as far as I'm concerned, they're little girls - not because of some debatable philosophical truth or subjective opinion, but because, by God, I'm a decent man who've pinned medals on dogs before. Right, Davis?

Police Commissioner Davis: Right! (murmurs of agreement sounds throughout the hall from the Townsville side)

Mayor Wilford: Girls or not, I'll treat anything or anyone real nice if she, or it, or she, I don't care, is going to make Townsville a better place.

Organization Chief Cliff: Fine. We'll make the arrangements.

Mayor Wilford: And one more thing, Cliff.

Organization Chief Cliff: How can I assist?

Mayor Wilford: Do they have names? It would be awkward for me to call them subjects or numbers in front of them. Manners, Cliff. That's how I was raised, and that's how I'll be until I'm buried under my city.

Organization Chief Cliff: (he flips through his notes, going through multiple pages, sifting through them) Er… The pink one is Blossom, the blue one is Bubbles and the Green one is Buttercup. Our field researcher named them as such.

Police Commissioner Davis: And does their unit have a name? I assume that they're working as a team, am I right?

Organization Chief Cliff: No, we've never thought of that, but they're attached to the Powerpuff Task Force, also known as the PTF.

(Silence returned to the hall as there are no further questions)

Mayor Wilford: Well, I guess it's time for a recess. All this politicking has made me hungry! I'm going to need a pickle or two in my sandwich.

TRANSCRIPT END

Chapter Text

Chapter 28: Quiet

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

8 DEC 1988. 1720.

"Sir, we have eyes on target. B-47 and B-48 have Run Away," Sergeant Rutherland reported to his superior, Agent Blake, who was right next to him. They were hiding behind a tree together.

"Yeah, I see them. All units, B-47 and B-48 have retreated into a fortified position, over," Agent Blake spoke into his mic as he leaned out of a tree, and had just spotted the corners of a red and green dress just flitting out of sight. Things had gotten serious, such that he was wearing his own helmet, goggles and kevlar vest.

"This is Sierra-Lima-2, received. Orders to proceed?" Agent Fields asked. Geared up the same way as Blake, he wasn't hiding very far from his lieutenant, just out of sight, out of mind, behind a low wall of snow. Private Jessup, another PTF soldier, was next to him.

"Affirmative, get into position, one left, one right, but wait for reinforcement. We're going to get them," Agent Blake ordered.

Not far away, a convoy of three white humvees, unmarked, pulled up in front of The House. The middle humvee was the first to open up, and out stepped Chief of Security Blackwater, as well as a captain and two black and gray-trimmed SWAT officers. A mix of four security officers in gray uniforms, armed with Mossberg 500 shotguns and MP5 submachineguns exited from the two humvees front and back of Blackwater's, along with two other SWAT officers, both armed with XM4 carbines.

As Blackwater was walking up to the front door of The House, the officers and SWATs flanked him, guns up.

"Reinforcements are in position, should we recon in force? Over," Agent Fields asked over the radio.

"That's a positive. Proceed with caution. They are definitely in Meltdown and Tantrum, over and out," Agent Blake gave the go-ahead. Agent Fields sat up, peeking over his snowy low wall, seeing nothing - no red, no green. He signaled for Private Jessup to get up, and together, they went either way of their barrier, crossing the play area. From the backdoor of The House, two more security officers joined them.

All hell broke loose after that.

Chief of Security Blackwater was peeved at what he found the moment he stepped out of his vehicle. At the front door of The House stood a PTF soldier and a plainclothes security officer. Anna, he remembered. He also remembered that the PTF soldier on guard duty was also supposed to be the local unit's K-9 handler, but his dog wasn't with him.

No, B-49, or the blue one Professor Utonium had named Bubbles, had somehow subverted it for her use. The German Shepherd, which was fully-trained by a police unit before being brought over to the Organization, was hanging its tongue out and panting like an undisciplined mutt as Bubbles was petting it. Bubbles was kneeling down on a knee, giggling and muttering to it as if the dog could understand her. The K-9 dog then licked her face and Bubbles giggled some more. She then picked up a stick and threw it across the other lawn. The K-9 dog promptly went after it.

Blackwater stomped up the path towards the front door. Bubbles had only just noticed him. Imposing as he was, she stared at him in awe, this huge, gorilla-like man with hair, silver like a crown. Blackwater ignored her, leaving his men to watch her instead as he marched up to the K-9 handler.

"What the hell happened to your dog?" Blackwater interrogated, then glanced down at the PTF soldier's nametag. "Corporal Miller?" The PTF soldier stood at attention.

"Bubbles - I mean B-49 - is playing with it, sir," the soldier reported. "She is a natural dog whisperer, sir."

"Your dog is not a plaything!" Blackwater bellowed at the soldier, who, despite being one of the best in the USGO, jolted when he did. Anna wasn't kidding when she discreetly reported that unit morale has plummeted ever since Agent Blake was forced to take charge of the Project Powerpuff subjects. "I gave you that dog to guard them! Not to turn the lawn into a petting zoo, got that!?"

"Yes sir, clearly sir," the soldier said.

"Now take back control of your dog," Blackwater ordered.

"It wouldn't listen to my commands anymore, sir," the soldier said. Blackwater could not bear to listen any longer. Instead, he turned around and pointed at bubbles.

"You, girl, get inside, now!" the Chief of Security ordered her instead. "And return my man his dog! It's not your damned toy!"

Bubbles gasped at the bad word he had used, but felt compelled to listen to the big, scary man. It wasn't just fear and obedience. He looked like her new playmates, so she thought that he was a friend of her friends. A little gruff perhaps, but then again, so were her playmates on their first day. 'Maybe if we drew some pictures together, he'll be friendlier!' she thought.

When the K-9 dog returned to her with the stick, she bent down and whispered something into its ear. Blackwater watched her with fascination, thinking that there was something to Corporal Miller's claim after all. The dog padded back to its original master after that, and plopped itself down at his feet.

"Sierra-Lima-1! We're pinned down, over!" Agent Fields reported. He'd dropped down to the ground, along with Private Jessup and his reinforcement.

"Affirmative, return fire!" Agent Blake ordered. He took a peek out from his tree, and saw that his men were in huge trouble, prone in the middle of the play area. "Hold on, keep 'em pinned down. I'm flanking, over." He tapped Sergeant Rutherland and gently nudged him to move on. They followed the fences, keeping their profile low, discreetly avoiding detection.

Meanwhile, Agent Fields and his men began 'returning fire' with what little ammunition they had. Snowballs, and they didn't manufacture many. Blossom and Buttercup were fast, popping out of their snow fort and launching their snowballs before flitting out of view. They returned the favor in kind, but could only chip away at their walls. The Girls had the home field advantage, the benefit of a fortification where they could build their supply of snowballs.

"Argh!" one of his men shouted, having been hit. The grown man, a plainclothes officer, raised his hand to signal his status to the Girls while laughing as he retreated behind their snow wall on their side of the backyard.

"Sir, we have one man down! Be quick about it!" Agent Fields shouted into his radio.

Chief of Security Blackwater entered The House, expecting the worst. His men had already gone ahead of him, securing the living room. There was only one security officer and a PTF soldier in the supposed 'command centre' of Agent Blake's unit. They were watching television, but the moment they saw who had arrived, they shot up from the sofa and stood at attention. "Sir," one of them greeted. Blackwater frowned at them.

But television was the least of the irregularities in The House, as he could hear the clinking of porcelain, of pots and pans. He went over to the kitchen to investigate, his boots thumping the ground.

And he was greeted by the most disgusting, shocking and unexpected of sights. Another of his PTF soldier was busy at the stove, cooking. The soldier had removed his headgear, leaned his weapon on the wall, and put an apron over his kevlar vest.

"You there!" Blackwater bellowed. The soldier turned around, surprised by the all-too-familiar voice. The moment he saw that it was his CO, he stood at attention, like the others.

"Yes sir?" Sergeant Holliday echoed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Blackwater questioned.

"I'm preparing dinner for the Girls, sir," the soldier said. "It's spaghetti with tomato sauce and beef balls sir, with a side of-"

"I don't want to know what you're cooking!" Blackwater interrupted the soldier. "I want you to stop what you're doing and assemble with the rest of your detail in the backyard. I think I've seen enough. Where in the flying fuck is Agent Blake?"

"He's… erm… playing with Blossom and Buttercup, sir," Sergeant Holliday said.

"B-47 and B-48, you mean. And what about the rest of your detail?" Blackwater interrogated the man further, barely holding it together, barely resisting the idea of throwing Sergeant Holliday across the kitchen.

"He's got five others with him," the soldier-chef said.

"Let me guess, playing with the subjects, too?" Blackwater chided, his voice rising like a coming storm as his patience waned rapidly.

"Yes. Yes sir," Sergeant Holliday divulged, feeling weirded out all of a sudden, with his more serious colleagues from HQ looking at him like he had gone mad. "And the other two are upstairs, on guard duty."

Agent Blake was able to flank Blossom and Buttercup easily. They were just too into throwing snowballs at his frontal assault team in the middle of the play area, but it wasn't without casualties. One had withdrawn earlier, and another was just hit as he got behind their lines.

The Girls were caught so unaware, in fact, that they were able to slip all the way behind the enhanced little girls and tackle them.

"Gotcha!" Agent Blake shouted in triumph as he pinned Blossom to the ground, straddling her as if he was preparing to beat the lights out of a wanted felon. He pulled off his helmet and goggles - there was no need for those any other. Blossom was shocked at first, but on seeing who it was, started laughing. Buttercup had done the same with Sergeant Rutherland, though the PTF soldier had already gotten off her and rolled away to sit down beside the ravenette. "You're under arrest for the crime of being too cute a girl, and I sentence you to tickling!"

"Oh please, no sir, anything but-" Blossom pleaded candidly for a less severe sentence, but it was too late. The security officer had left her no time to think, and immediately thrust his fingers into her sides, forcing more laughter out of her. "-Hahahaha!"

"Hahahaha-! Sto- Hehehe- stop! Stop! Hahahahaha," Blossom laughed uncontrollably, who in truth, didn't want it to end. That was when he heard someone clearing his throat loudly. It was only then did the security lieutenant stop, as he turned to the sound, only to realize that his Chief of Security, Blackwater, had been watching all the while. He got off Blossom immediately, wiping snow off his jacket and pants.

"Evening sir. I didn't know you were visiting," Agent Blake greeted Blackwater as calmly as he could, but he knew he'd done it. He'd let himself go when he'd tasted the ecstasy of being a parent, or at least something of a surrogate parent-nanny type, and he'd paid for it with a risk to his career.

Blossom was still on her back and she got up to her elbows, adjusting her hair bow, when the huge man in black had appeared at her backyard, wondering what was going on, and who the man who could fill her entire front door was.

"Save it, Blake," Blackwater shut him up, and ordered the rest of Blake's security detail out into the backyard. "Guns on the ground! Line up!"

"What's going on?" Agent Blake asked, now truly afraid of the repercussions. The Organization had become a publicly known federal agency, but it sure hadn't lost its teeth. Now, he began to fear that he would be the last of those who would pay the ultimate price.

"I said weapons on the ground!" Blackwater simply ordered again. The Chief of Security's own squad formed a line and raised their weapons at Blake and his men. Agent Blake had no choice but to do as he was told. He pulled his pistol and saw-off shotgun out of his jacket, and then reached down to his ankle to remove his concealed backup pistol and knife, throwing it down in the snow, still wondering if his blood would soon be painting the snow as well. Blake's own men reluctantly followed, throwing down their weapons in a pile, then lining up in the backyard. "Hands on your head! Now!"

They did as they were told.

"You and you, take B-47 and B-48 into The House with B-49 and Utonium," Blackwater ordered again. Two SWAT officers took Blossom and Buttercup by the arm, leading them in, surprisingly gentle only because they believed it would cost them their lives otherwise.

"What are you going to do? Are you going to shoot us dead just because we played games and made pancakes for the Girls?" Agent Blake said.

"Depends on what this baby says," Chief of Security Blackwater said, tapping on a scanner-type device hanging on his belt. The device itself looked a little like something from Ghostbusters, with a rectangular screen and a handle below it.

Inside The House, Blossom and Buttercup joined Bubbles, Professor Utonium and Medical Director Simmons in the living room.

"What's happening, Dad?" Blossom asked, afraid. She looked out the sliding doors leading into the backyard. It was hard to see past the strangers, but then something strange happened when she tried really hard, because she was already starting to miss Blake. It was as if her vision had zoomed in like a pair of binoculars, and she could just about see Blake's face, as afraid as hers. She saw her friends being lined up like prisoners, and she thought she could see through the strangers. She shook her head, forcing her eyes shut, thinking that something had gone wrong with her eyes.

"Are they here to hurt us?" Buttercup assumed the worst. At the same time, she was using her eavesdropping ability to listen in on Blackwater outside.

"Just friends having a little argument, that's all," Professor Utonium explained, making sure that his every word was clear.

"I hate it when people fight…" Bubbles cried as she leaned on her Daddy. "Why can't everyone just smile and be happy…"

"It's fine, honey," Professor Utonium cooed. "Nothing's going to happen."

"You're threatening to shoot us for doing what you told me to do?" Agent Blake argued.

"I told you to take care of them, and by that, I mean providing for their physical needs, nothing more. Not to befriend them, much less to play with them and let your guard down!" Blackwater said, with a tone of finality. He unhooked the device on his belt and switched it on. It started humming and beeping the moment he did. After turning a knob and pressing a few buttons, he waved it in front of Agent Blake like a handheld metal-detecting wand.

"Hell is that Scientology shit supposed to do?" Agent Blake sassed the Chief.

"It's latest tech. I'm checking you for psionic tampering," the Chief of Security said. His men around him were starting to shift their footing and their hands on their weapons nervously as Blackwater began scanning Blake. "You better hope it doesn't start screaming or you'd be screaming next."

"Amazing, Anna," Agent Blake said sarcastically to his third-in-command, who was just a few persons down the row. "You really did call it in, did you? You paranoid bitch."

"I was doing my job, Blake," Anna countered. "Were you doing yours?"

"Seeing that we're still here, yes," Blake defended.

"Yeah, and 'Buttercup' nearly wasn't yesterday," Anna said.

"She returned home, Anna! Because there was an actual home with friendlies to return to!" Blake yelled at his third-in-command. Betrayal was something he could never get used to, not when he thought it was something that belong in the past.

"Both of you shut your mouths!" the Chief bellowed as he adjusted his instrument further. After another quiet moment of scanning, Blackwater lowered the instrument, glaring at Blake as though he'd murdered someone. "You're clean. Move him over to the left." One of Blackwater's own SWAT officer led Blackwater away from the rest.

The scanning continued as he moved on to the next man. He wasn't going to leave anything to chance. The psionic scanner was working faster after Blake, as it had been primed after him. All he had to do was to wave it a few times over each men to accurately assess their brainwave patterns. He knew exactly what to look for; he'd done it several times in the past, when several subjects with psionic abilities were able to access minds and twist them to inflict varying degrees of mental trauma or control.

But it wasn't here this time, not on any of the men, though he wasn't sure if he should be smiling this time. It meant one less thing that B-47 to 49 could do, when they were the most stable of all the subjects they had to work with.

"You knuckleheads seem to have forgotten what those kids in The House are!" Chief of Security Blackwater reprimanded the entire PTF unit after he was done. "They may look like cute little girls, but they are dangerous! They are living weapons. Creatures. They're things! Not human! They might seem all nice and friendly now, but you don't know what's going to happen next, and it's stunningly stupid that the lot of you have exposed yourselves this way."

All the while, Blackwater did not know that he was being listened to by Buttercup, who could hear him loud and clear even through the double-layered soundproof sliding glass doors. Buttercup gasped silently at the way Blackwater described her, and she remembered the other words used to describe her clearly. She was an experiment, a subject, a lab rat. Perhaps they were connected?

"I'm bringing you boys back to our new headquarters. I'm going to have to ask a lot of questions," Blackwater said. "In fact, I'm not even sure if I can even deploy you and your detail anywhere, any longer, Blake."

Agent Blake and his officers and soldiers were led back into the living room, guarded by their armed colleagues. A couple of their captors were left behind to bag their weapons. The Girls could only watch as they streamed towards the door.

But Blossom didn't want to just watch. It'd been a fun three days, and Mister Blake, as she knew him, had been there for her when her Daddy could not. She'd known no other friends.

"Mister Blake!" Blossom called out to him as she ran up to the disgraced security lieutenant. The guards around him stiffened up.

"It's been great, Blossom," Agent Blake said as he felt the enhanced little girl hugging him around a leg. "I'll not forget you, and I'll not forget this."

"Please don't go," Blossom begged, hugging his leg even tighter.

"Perhaps we'll see each other again," Blake said. "But I have to go now."

Professor Utonium had to intervene to get Blossom to release Agent Blake, who could only repeat her request knowing fully well what would happen next. He knew he had to do it, because it was either him or the goons who came with the Chief of Security. He led Blossom back to the sofa, and when he sat down, he hoisted Blossom onto his lap.

The Girls waved goodbye to their friends. It was all they could do. And before long, the House was quiet again, quiet except for the fast-fading bubbling of the clam chowder Sergeant Holliday had prepared, and the muffled sound of the humvees and prisoner transports outside starting up and driving away.

Chapter Text

Chapter 29: Family Dynamics

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

9 DEC 1988. 0745.

"Thomas, come with us, please," Eileen pleaded with her husband, even as Thomas Lewis Upton, otherwise known as Agent Utonium in the Organization, closed the door to their Organization security cruiser. "Just take our family car, please. We can go as a family."

"Eileen, honey, I can't. There are things I must do - and it'd help us in the long run," Thomas said, holding her hand with both of his. He hated doing this - but he was a man married just as much to his work as he was to his wife, and if he could work hard enough, long enough, they could be a normal family again, one who didn't have to be afraid all their life.

"Daddy, why aren't you getting into the car with us?" Bloome, from the backseat window, said, a tinge of sadness in her voice. She had brown eyes, and she was wearing a brown synthetic fur coat in the middle of this horrid winter. Thomas thought himself lucky to have her; she was intelligent and wise beyond her years, just like dear old dad. Beautiful too, with her high cheeks, button nose that was slightly upturned and waist-length hair, which she groomed and kept in place with a brown hairband that had a bow on it.

Thomas bent down and regarded her with loving, but equally sad, and longing eyes. Bloome was only five, and she had suffered his absence for far too long, far too frequently.

"Honey, I can't. I'm working on something that'd make the bad things go away. But one day, Bloome, one day, we'd live happily ever after." Thomas promised, at the same time caressing her cheek, pushing her fringe out of the way of her eyes. He smiled, and she did the same, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Goodbye, Daddy…" Bloome bade farewell sadly, as she waved at him while their transport started moving. She then held up her doll, which she named Sir Squido, and waved one of its tentacles at him too. Thomas stared after them, breathing a sigh of relief when he knew that they would be safe from now on, so that he could continue his work on the Chemicals R and S, though something tells him they were far from the final form of the mysterious substance.

That was when it happened - He didn't know why, and he didn't know how. They had departed at an unknown time, date and location after all, and no one could have found out.

After travelling a fair distance, Eileen and Bloome's car had exploded, and the vibrations and shock wave could be felt even from where he stood.

Professor Utonium woke up with a gasp, sweat pouring down his forehead. His nightmare had been more vivid, and he knew it had something to do with his retreating fever, with everything that had happened recently - his own attempts on his adopted daughters' lives, the fact that they had to live under another man's temporary governorship, and their impending deployment as weapons against crime. He wiped his sweat away, only to realize that he had been crying in his sleep.

"Awake now, are we?" a voice in the dark said, snarky. The professor looked down at the foot of his bed, but he could not quite see who it was there - a dark silhouette, just outside the morning light coming from his window. Professor Utonium gave a shout, thinking that the Foundation had put an operative in The House to finish the job. His mind raced madly - after all, he had just recalled in his nightmare how the Foundation had killed his family.

"W-who are you!? What do you want!?" he practically screamed as he sat up, feeling a wet towel tumbling down his forehead. He pulled his blanket closer to himself, like a scared little boy.

The figure stepped into the light, revealing black SWAT gear with gray trimmings, the uniform of the USDO's security branch, SWAT division. He, or she, had a duffel bag in one hand. The other was resting on an XM4 Carbine rifle that was slung on his, or her, shoulder. The face of the stranger was revealed by the light last. And she was a lady underneath her helmet and ballistic glasses.

"Je-sus, man, I didn't mean to scare you that much," the stranger said as she threw down her duffel bag on the floor. It thumped heavily. She removed her helmet, revealing a bob cut underneath, raven locks that framed her face. She took off her sunglasses, showing natural green eyes. "I'm Sergeant Goodwin. Selicia Goodwin. And I assume you're Professor Utonium? You look different from how you used to be."

"We've met before?" the professor asked, still apprehensive about the woman who'd just appeared in his room, who had possibly been watching him sleeping. Scratch that, cry and mumble in his sleep. He didn't dare ask about that.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten about me? I was one of the security officers who guarded the Girls in their ICU after they were born? Remember?" Sergeant Goodwin said. "I was the girl who kept badgering you to attend that damned emergency meeting, ring a bell?"

The SWAT officer gave a rather rough, tomboy-ish laugh, which didn't fit the SWAT gear she was wearing, then went on to recall further. "You wouldn't leave those gals alone, right from the beginning. I kept hearing about you at the lunch room. I was the one who promised to take care of the Girls while you went for the meeting, does that work for you now?"

Recognition set in belatedly, but he was too tired, despite sleeping for ten hours, to be surprised, or to act the part of a good company. He simply sunk back down into his pillow. "Oh, it's you," he said. "Still doesn't explain why you're here."

"Here's the beef, prof. The committee was concerned about everything - you, the Girls, and how you looked like you're in the next life after only two weeks. It didn't help that an entire security team was somehow completely demoralized when their leader was ordered to substitute you when you're out of action," Sergeant Goodwin explained and then laughed, when she recalled something else. "Ho boy, the look on Chief Blackwater's face. You should have seen it!"

"I believe I have," Professor Utonium said.

"Anyway, long story short, I've been assigned by the committee as the Girls' second caretaker. My orders are to help pacify the Girls as their mother," the SWAT officer finally said. It'd came out hard and fast, no holds barred. The professor didn't need the energy to react to that.

"C-come again?" he simply said, unsure if he heard it right.

"I've been transferred to you as backup. I'm the Girls' mother now," Selicia explained again, this time simplifying things, as if the professor was a boy. She sat down on his bed, next to him. She was deceptively light, despite the SWAT gear on.

"What! For how long? Three days? Because I think I'm fine right now," Professor Utonium said in disbelief as he sat up once more. Selicia pushed him back down and removed a glove.

"You're as stubborn as they say," She commented as she felt his forehead. Still hot despite the wet towel. "Still hot, too. The doc said your fever's gone down, but not completely out for the count. If you go on like this, they'd probably have to send someone else in your place, if you know what I mean."

"Anyway, I'll be here as long as the Girls are. It's a permanent transfer, unless I botch the job so badly that Alice from Social Services start going after my neck, and believe me, she'd treat even Pol Pot real nice if she's given the chance," Selicia said. "You know, we're going to need a cover story."

"A cover story? What do you mean?" Utonium said weakly. He felt himself instinctively gravitating towards Selicia's palm as she felt his forehead. It was tingly. It felt good, and it reminded him of a time when he had a girl in his life, an adult one.

"I'm supposed to be their birth mother. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, was it?" Selicia added.

"But isn't that going a bit too far?" the Professor said.

"More than telling them that they never have biological parents to begin with? As much as I hated mine, no, I don't think so pal," Selicia said. She removed her hand from the professor's forehead, and replaced the wet towel on his head. "Now, I need clarification. Can't afford to screw things up, can I? Blossom, pink-eyed, has red hair, 44 inches tall, 43 pounds. Bubbles, baby-blue-eyes, blonde hair, 43.5 inches, 42 pounds. Buttercup, green-eyed, black hair and 44.5 inches, 45 pounds. Am I right?"

"You've done your homework, Selicia. But being a parent is more than statistics," the professor said.

"Which is why we need a cover story," Selicia countered. "I take it that you've been lying to them about everything, haven't you? What's a little more? If it means keeping them happy?"

Her words hit Utonium hard, leaving him speechless. There was no denying that he'd been keeping the Girls in the dark, that he had his own cover story with them as well - in fact, he could even reason that he was the worst of them both, seeing that he hadn't even quite laid out his cards for the Girls, not like what Selicia intended. The Professor had made no attempt at explaining himself to the Girls, even though they deserved something of a groundwork for their relationship, and he had done nothing but answer a few questions with vague answers regarding how little girls were made and what they were made of. Sure, they knew about babies and fathers, but he'd expressly avoided the topic of mothers and giving birth. They didn't ask because of their ignorance. And now…

"How about if I start? But first…" Selicia said, then paused as she went back to her duffel bag and, after unzipping it, rummaged through her own belongings. It sounded messy in there, as the professor could hear clanking metal and plastic. "Where did I put those- Yeah, here we go." She returned to his side and plopped herself down beside her once more, this time the left cheek of her butt was touching his thigh. He shifted away from her. "A little wedding present from the Organization." She left some papers and passports on his stomach. Professor Utonium picked up several of them to look.

He flipped open the passports. He saw a picture of himself staring at him, and he knew where he'd taken that photo. It was a year ago, when he had to renew his security card. His name was listed as 'Thomas Utonium'. The Organization was slowly cleaning up their act, pushing both the truth and the lies out. Then there was a photo of Selicia in the next passport. Her name was listed as 'Selicia Utonium', aged 25. She wasn't kidding about it being a wedding present. He groaned as he saw it, but he went through the rest of it. Blossom Utonium. Bubbles Utonium. Buttercup Utonium. Their pictures were derived from security footages, cleaned up such that they looked convincing. He knew the background. Those slimy bastards had taken videos of them in Outpost Charlie-01 while he was in the general meeting.

He skimmed through the papers. They were proof of Selicia's orders. Signed by Chief of Security Blackwater and Organization Director Cliff.

"Say… Since we're technically married now…" Selicia said with a mischievous smile spreading on her face out of nowhere, putting herself on top of Utonium. "We should probably consummate our marriage, don't you think? Bet it'd help with the undercover duty!" She pressed her face close to the professor's. The latter tried to worm out of her grasp, but there was no room for him. Her grip was strong.

"Save it for the next time if we actually feel something for each other, Selicia," Professor Utonium muttered, making a futile effort to push her away, but it was no use. The SWAT officer withdrew from him.

"Ah haha! You should have seen your mug! Anyway, I wouldn't want your fever to get worse, so I'll take your advice. I'm going to need your help anyway," Selicia said, getting off him, leaving the professor blushing and hotter, as Selicia had feared. He hated to admit it even though he knew the biological basis for it, but Selicia did get to him. The woman was wild, nothing like Eileen. "How does this sound: I gave birth to them as triplets before leaving for what was supposed to be a three-week long operation. I've come back early, and now I'm working from home."

"You can't seriously think they would accept that," Professor Utonium said in disbelief, dismayed that he had to lie some more. When will it ever end?

"Well, they accepted you, didn't they? When you're alone with them?" Selicia reasoned.

"And what about when they find out?"

"Find out what?"

"About how reproduction really works?" the professor asked. He was asking himself just as much as he was questioning his new 'wife'. He was just as guilty as she was for hiding the truth from the Girls. "They woke up looking exactly as they are now on their first day, and they remember it.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Selicia simply said. She wasn't just wild. The professor was already having doubts about having her as a mother to Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. "Now, how about if I meet the Girls with your support? Right about… Now?"

"As if I have a choice…" the professor said resentfully. "The Organization is never about choices."

"It's known as the USDO now, Thomas. The United States Defence Organization. They can be good once you really get to know them, instead of stranding yourself in the lab all the time," Selicia defended the USDO. "After all, they gave me a life and purpose when my own family gave me nothing… And worse than nothing."

The professor said nothing to that. The Organization was partly responsible for his wife and child's death, for the mutilation and mutation of his Chimpanzee lab assistant… After massacring his kind because of money problems. But they did give him Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, though he could claim most of the credit, of course.

"If you're going to meet the Girls, you're not going in like that," Professor Utonium said.

"Like what?"

"Looking like you're in a war zone, about to put lead into them," the professor explained. "Even if you're afraid of them, that rifle of yours might not do much, anyway."

"I'm not afraid of them. I… er… When I first saw them, and believe me, I had hours to just stare at them in their ICU, I guess I understand why you gave up being one of the most powerful man in the United States," Selicia confessed. Previously, she had gone from serious to playful, and now she was becoming emotional. She was a hard creature to read, even with the professor's smarts. "I didn't have much of a childhood, and I was afraid for those three kids that being born enhanced in the lab might mean the same thing. When they offered to transfer me to this… 'unit', I knew I had to take it, to give them something I never had."

"You're still going to have to change, Selicia," the professor said, making no mention of the woman's declaration of 'love' for the Girls. It was something he'd have to file in the back of his mind until he'd seen enough of her. "I think you can agree that mothers generally do not wave a rifle in front of their daughters."

"As you wish… Husband dear," Selicia said, and the professor couldn't decide if she had done it mockingly or just plain mischievously. In fact, he couldn't decide exactly who she was - and he could only put it down to the fact that they hardly knew each other, even when he was the Head of Research in the old Organization's HQ. He had only seen her a few times before the day Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were born. He had probably seen her more often than that, but he didn't quite remember.

Without any warning, Selicia began stripping in front of him. Her rifle and vest came down within an instant.

"Selicia, wh-what are you doing?" Professor Utonium stuttered.

"Thomas dear, you really need to start acting the part. Have you forgotten that we're happily married? Especially after five long years of bliss?" Selicia reminded him before pulling the top of her uniform off, leaving only a gray shirt underneath. After that, there was only a skin-colored bra, then nothing. She returned to her duffel bag and pulled out the top of a gray Organization dress uniform. She rested it on her chest. "What do you think? I've read your report. I think at least one of them would love it. It comes with a few medals I earned from disposing some of their predecessors."

"Anything, Selicia. Just put some clothes on," the professor simply agreed hurriedly. He had squeezed his eyes shut long ago. It felt like an insult to Eileen's memory, that the Organization would just shove a woman into his arms, a woman who would masquerade his late wife's part.

It was worse when he pretended to have fallen asleep (and he wasn't fooling anyone). He could hear clothes falling onto the carpet, boots thumping to the ground, and then feel her naked butt beside him after that, pressing against his thigh as Selicia did as he asked. The only thing he could be grateful for was that she didn't make him watch, and knowing security officers like her, she could have if she wanted to.

He could hear undergarments slipping on, then clothes. The worst part? The biological part of him longed to see her, to feel her. To have sex with her. The meat on his bones weren't much different from that of an animal, no matter how intelligent he was. He opened his eyes when he heard nothing more, and half expected the unpredictable Selicia to flash him just to prank him, but when he did, her back was turned to her. He could see the darker jacket and lighter skirt of her military dress, and when she turned around, he was greeted by silver buttons and four medals. She was still mostly unmarked, with only the three chevrons of a sergeant on her arm and collars, despite the Organization gaining a public face. Perhaps Wiggums and the logistics arm of the USGO hadn't gotten around to it yet. Her boots were replaced by black pumps.

"Better?" Selicia asked.

"Better," for once, the professor agreed with her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 30: Mommy Dearest

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

9 DEC 1988. 0830.

"Don't peek, Girls! Remember, it's a surprise," Professor Utonium reminded the Girls as he guided them to the living room from the backyard. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup each had a hand over their eyes and the other to form a line with Blossom holding onto Professor Utonium, followed by Bubbles and Buttercup. The professor was all smiles and laughter when he was in front of the Girls, but when their eyes were closed, he'd dropped the act. He had no idea what the outcome would be, whether it was to do with the Girls' reactions, or the viability of his new 'wife'.

"Is it a new bookshelf full of fairy tales?" Blossom guessed, giggling.

"Is it a pony? I want a pony so bad!" Bubbles took her turn, wishing.

"Is it… I don't know, a full set of playhouse and dolls?" Buttercup took her turn, disingenuously asserting her girly front.

"Okay, Girls, you can open your eyes now," Professor Utonium said, as excitedly as he could sound. He found it frightening that he was actually getting better at acting.

The Girls were standing in front of the television, and when they opened their eyes, they saw a woman in military dress uniform, sitting on the sofa, crossing her legs. The Girls were smiling as much as they were confused.

"Hello, Girls. Long time no see," Sergeant Selicia Goodwin greeted her 'children', kept up with her lie right down to her words. For a moment, she didn't know what to do with her hands, or her legs, so she simply leaned back, throwing her arms on the top of the cushions, giving a relaxed facade. "My, the three of you look more beautiful than I remember."

"Is she my new playmate?" Buttercup guessed, still smiling. "You found a playmate for me, right Dad?"

"Is she our new friend?" Blossom took her turn.

"Is she going to turn into a pony?" Bubbles obsessed over her new pony fixation.

"No, Girls, she's more than that. You see, Girls…" Professor Utonium came over to Selicia, who stood up. He put an arm around her waist, though his mind was screaming for him to do otherwise. "She's your mother."

"But Dad, I don't understand," Blossom opened up first. "What's a mother?" She'd spoken for Bubbles and Buttercup, even if the latter wouldn't want to admit it. They all had the same questions in their mind.

"Why, she's like me, except she's female, like you," the professor explained with a laugh. "I know it's complicated. You see, it takes two person to have a child, or children, like the three of you."

"But if it takes two to have us, why didn't we know about her?" Blossom asked. The professor had noticed recently that her questions were targeting increasingly complex issues. She was learning fast, terrifyingly so, sometimes.

"Well, you see-" the professor wanted to explain, but Selicia took over.

"You see, Girls, I had a job to do outside. As soon as I have you, I had to go away," she explained in a language as simple as she could. "But now I'm back, and I won't be leaving anytime soon." The security officer approached them. The Girls remained rooted to the ground. The professor thought they looked a little apprehensive about this new parental figure. Selicia knelt down to bring her eye level to theirs. "I won't be leaving your side again. I'm just sorry I was never there when the three of you woke up for the first time."

Selicia had put on a regretful appearance. Whether it was genuine or not, Professor Utonium could not tell, even as he remained by her side, a hand on her shoulder, a supportive gesture just as fake as half the things in The House. But whether it was genuine or not, Selicia was a master at this. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had melted at the sight of their new mother, all remorseful and willing to redeem herself for a mistake that never existed.

Bubbles' hands had gone up to her mouth, stifling a cry. Blossom seemed touched. Buttercup, however, seemed a little confused as to what to feel.

"Group hug?" Selicia requested. The Girls hugged her. Looking up at the professor, who was still standing there, she pulled him down into the group hug.

"It's good to have a mother," Blossom said; she had already understood the idea and appeal of having a second parent.

"Yeah, it'd be like having two Dads, right, Buttercup?" Bubbles said.

"Humph," Buttercup simply grunted her half-hearted agreement. To her, there can only be one Daddy. In fact, there was just something about this that didn't sit right with her. With more and more discoveries of backroom conversations weighing down on her shoulders, she couldn't help but to suspect everything.

Selicia laughed at their reactions. "I can always show the three of you what it's like to have a mother," she said. "And we're going to have a great day. Right, darling?"

Professor Utonium didn't respond immediately. He was still trying to get used to the sudden increase in terms of endearments being thrown at him… From a woman he barely knew, who, for all he knew, wasn't kidding about getting into his pants.

"Yes, of course… Honey," the professor went along with the ruse.

From the Girls' perspective, the day had gone by really fast. Even Buttercup was going with the flow, and for all her paranoia, she found out that her new mother wasn't bad at all.

They started the day with Selicia cooking, and her pancakes were one-of-a-kind. The Girls had pressed her for answers throughout breakfast. What was her favorite color? What does she do at work? What animal did she like the most? Does she sleep with a soft toy or three? Selicia would do the same, partly to ease the pressure on her. They learned a lot about each other that way. Professor Utonium was able to take a backseat, which was good for his body, but bad for his soul - with Selicia disrupting the usual routine he had built in the last two weeks, it felt as if the Girls were slipping away from him.

But he would find out later that, in the eyes of the Girls, their Daddy was God, and not even their shiny new parent could replace him. They decided to go out for lunch to celebrate Mommy's return. They went shopping after that, then the movies, with a Christmas comedy filling the silver screen.

But before the commercials could even play, history repeated itself once again, and the Girls had a stronger reaction to it.

"But I want to sit next to Daddy!" Buttercup yelled at Bubbles, who had once again secured a seat left of Daddy, and the seat to his right was taken by an apathetic stranger.

"But- But- You butthead! You sat next to him the last time!"Bubbles insulted her sister. Bubbles' new name for Buttercup had taken the ravenette off-guard. Made her mad. Real mad. Mad enough that she'd started shaking, unable to control her impulse. They were attracting stares from all over the cinema, stares that denoted either awe for the Girls' uncanny beauty, or their fierce sibling rivalry.

"Girls, please, people are looking at you…" Selicia warned them, but she was feeling helpless. She'd even looked the part as she was wearing a dainty shoulder-less black dress she had just bought to further bury her security background in favor of a softer approach befitting that of a stereotypical mother. She didn't dare get between the Girls. She'd read their reports, and she certainly didn't want to be in the way of thousands of pounds of force if they started throwing punches.

"It's okay, dear. They do it all the time," Professor Utonium said to his 'wife', this time too occupied with the Girls to even worry about the mismatch between his feelings and his words. "Buttercup, Bubbles, be nice to each other…"

"You're a butthead! Butthead! Butthead! Butthead!" Bubbles repeated herself, her voice shrill and even more high-pitched than how it normally was. She had erupted in tears, stamping her feet each time she twisted Buttercup's name. Memories of Buttercup's abuse the last time they were in the cinema had come flooding back into her mind, and she was just as much fearful as she was angry at Buttercup's insistence on taking Daddy away from her.

With clenched jaws, baring teeth, Buttercup gave a shout and pushed Bubbles, who yelped and fell a yard or two away. Buttercup's green eyes glared widely at her downed sister, with a kind of insanity in her eyes. It'd shocked both 'parents' enough that Selicia was able to put aside her fear and seize Buttercup just as she was leaping for Bubbles.

"Oh my God!" someone in the cinema shrieked in shock.

"Let go of me!" Buttercup screamed while she was in Selicia's arm.

"Buttercup baby, stop! Just please, stop," Selicia said. Buttercup struggled and turned around, glaring at her, but the sight of her calmed her down, for some reason.

Professor Utonium went for Bubbles, who was crying on the floor.

"Man, put a leash on that green dog!" a man commented not far away.

Thomas and Selicia had to drag Bubbles and Buttercup out of the cinema after that, and Blossom had to help with Buttercup. They went straight home after that, with Bubbles crying on Mommy's shoulder and Buttercup and Blossom occupying either ends of the backseat, as before.

The moment they reached the House, Buttercup had raced up to her room, breaking the house rule on super-speed, resulting in askew paintings and pictures in her wake. Bubbles and Blossom, in the meantime, had hung their coats and just sat in the living room, upset that the day was ruined, thanks to Buttercup.

"How about if I take this one?" Selicia said to Professor Utonium before taking the stairs.

"I'll stay with Blossom and Bubbles," the man of The House said, and sat down in between the Blue and Red, putting his arms around them.

"Buttercup? Are you in there?" Selicia called out for her 'daughter'. She pushed open the door to the GIrls' room, no denying that she was a little afraid. She was in a shoulder-less black dress, something she would never have worn otherwise, if ever, and she lacked a firearm in her hands. It was the first time in a long time she felt vulnerable, ever since she ran away from home.

She knew immediately that Buttercup was in the room. She was making a lot of noise. One thing she'd learned about her the moment she'd met the tomboy was that she lacked subtlety.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Buttercup screamed, oblivious that her supposed mother was watching. She'd taken off her black hair bow and threw it to the ground, stomping on it, pulverizing the plastic. She did the same with the black hair clip that was binding her waist-length hair to Blossom's standards. "I hate this! Blossom and her stupid hair! Sissy little Bubbles!" She then proceeded to mess up her carefully-groomed hair, clearly not a big fan of her own looks. She then punted what remained of her hair bow and clip with her foot across the room. What remained of the plastic bow and hair clip broke even further against the wall.

"Buttercup?" Selicia called out to her again. The green-eyed girl turned around to regard her newly-arrived mother, with a look of guilt on her face.

"M-mom? I-" Buttercup struggled to explain her frenzy, "I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mess up my hair! I didn't mean what I said!"

"Buttercup, it's alright," Selicia entered the room, taking careful steps towards the volatile super-powered girl.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I'll act like a good little girl!" Buttercup promised, just as afraid of her mother as her mother was of her - after all, she'd barely met her. "I didn't mean to act the way I did. I'll be a good girl!"

"Buttercup, I understand more than you know," Selicia said. "You don't have to act anymore."

"I don't?" Buttercup asked, surprised at her reaction. She was expecting disapproval, something she was afraid of getting from Daddy.

"I knew that hairdo didn't fit you. You have to be yourself, Buttercup," Selicia said. "Why are you trying to act the cute, good little girl anyway?"

"Because Daddy loves Blossom and Bubbles more-" Buttercup cried, actual tears welling up. A single tear escaped, and she wiped it away "I can see it, even though he doesn't say it. I thought that if I acted more like them, he'd love me just as much!"

"Silly girl, come here, you," Selicia said, welcoming the kid into her arms. Buttercup padded up to her and quickly buried her face in her stomach, wrapping her arms around her. "I don't think he loves you any less. There are fathers like that, but I've known him for so long, and he's not one of them." In truth, Selicia had deduced that from a day's observation, but she thought it was accurate all the same.

Buttercup said nothing more. She sniffled for a bit, her crying muffled by Selicia's dress, but she was able to bring herself under control faster than her siblings were able to.

"You know, how about…" Selicia said with a comforting smile, a great idea just popping into her mind. She ran her hair through Buttercup's waist-length lock. "We get you a haircut? I bet you'll feel a lot better once you're more like yourself."

"Really? Can I get one just like yours?" Buttercup asked. "I didn't say this, Mommy dearest, but, I like you the moment I saw you."

"That's awfully sweet of you, Buttercup," Selicia said, a genuine smile spreading across her face. She was positively beaming, over the mountain. It felt so much better than drugs, or getting drunk - being recognized as a mother, being loved had beaten all of that. But there's more to capitalize from this. "I'll have to give everyone a haircut. Bubbles kept shoving her pigtails aside and Blossom had to keep avoiding sitting on her own hair."

"Oh," Buttercup enunciated, turning her eyes away from hers, clearly nervous about something.

"You just have to apologize to Bubbles, Buttercup. You shouldn't have attacked her like that, girl," Selicia said. "I'm sure she'll do the same for you. It wasn't nice for her to call you Butthead, after all. I'll make sure she apologizes to you."

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

9 DEC 1988. 2243.

Buttercup stared at herself in the mirror. She couldn't believe what Mommy had done to her hair. She couldn't help but to constantly feel it as she watched herself. "This. Is. Awesome!" she cried. Her hair had basically been trimmed down to the barest minimum for a girl. Selicia had given her exactly what she asked for: a haircut similar to her own, a bob cut, to that effect, except that the ends of her hair would stick up sideways like blades, something to do with how her hair works. Her fringes were cut to manageable lengths, straight across, with an arrowhead-like split down the middle. This meant that she didn't need to spend the entire age of the universe washing and tending to it. Buttercup never quite took well to baths, and she'd prefer to get it over with as quickly as she could.

"I know, right?" Blossom said. She was standing to Buttercup's right, admiring her own hair as well. It used to be slightly beyond waist-length. Selicia had done the least work with her, but the effect was just as pronounced. The ends of her hair would no longer form a rough, jagged line, and they were neater, just slightly above waist-length such that it was convenient.

Bubbles hugged Buttercup from behind. "Don't we just look lovely?" she said dreamily, looking at her own pigtails. Most of them were amputated such that they could barely reach her ears. If she'd let her hair down, they'd only be neck-length.

Selicia had entered the room just as the Girls were admiring themselves at the wardrobe mirror. "Now isn't that great? The three of you getting along without trying to kill each other?" she said. "Isn't this so much better?"

"Mommy, is Daddy coming in to read us a story?" Blossom asked, before yawning a little.

"Aw, look at you - you've had a tiring day, haven't you?" Selicia observed. "Your father needs a break. He's only just gotten well from his sickness. How about if I sing you three to sleep? My aunt used to do that for me on the bad nights."

It didn't take the Girls long to get changed and lie in bed. The lights went out next, and the Girls' eyes began to droop.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word, Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird…"

"And if that mockingbird won't sing, Momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"

Meanwhile, Professor Utonium was down in the labs.

"And if that diamond ring turns to brass, Momma's gonna buy you a looking glass…"

Unbeknownst to him, a certain Chimpanzee was staring at him working at his desk.

"And if that looking glass gets broke, Momma's gonna buy you a billy goat…"

And accompanying that Chimpanzee was a certain four-armed woman in a trilby, who smiled a psychotic smile.

Chapter Text

Chapter 31: One Bad Monkey

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

9 DEC 1988. 2320.

As much as Professor Utonium disliked the idea of someone else taking care of Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, especially someone he hardly knew, someone like Sergeant Selicia Goodwin, he couldn't deny the clear advantages it gave him.

For one thing, he was able to settle down in the labs far earlier than before, and without feeling like he had just ran an Olympic Marathon. Granted, he would gladly run a marathon everyday just for the Girls, but there were far too many pressing matters that required his attention, from the most mundane and hated, such as reports and papers to write and send to the Organization, or the USDO, as they had rebranded themselves, to the most pressing and esoteric, such as the continuation of his research into Chemical X, and how it had so empowered the Girls, and if it could, so suddenly one day, take it all away and more.

Not to mention, his fever had broken, and he preferred to keep it that way if only he could take care of the Girls and not the other way around.

First order of business: Bubbles. For almost three weeks now, he had been worried about her. While Blossom and Buttercup had no trouble catching up with the general 5-year-old demographics in terms of knowledge and education, Bubbles was already beginning to plateau. And he had just the thing.

In a rare case of USDO magnanimity, the results of the complete health check-up for the Girls' Sources had arrived. Medical Director Simmons had even done a little extra, getting Alice, Head of Psychiatry and Social Services, to issue the Sources free psychiatric screening. And the thick brown envelopes were just right there, sitting on his desk, with a note attached to them:

From: Doctor Simmons

I was able to get all of this done express-like. The parents of the Girls' sources were thrilled at such a royal treatment. That already tells us a lot: none of the girls from whom the Girls gained their DNA from are wealthy. I've taken a look at their files myself, and two of them are of middle class, the other's in the poor house. The bills waived amounted in the tens of thousands, mainly due to the fact that we've given them exclusive medical screenings not yet available to the public.

I've refrained from looking through the documents enclosed inside. They are for your eyes alone, and it is your decision if you want to involve me.

Professor Utonium would have leaped at the chance to see them, had it not been for something else.

"Professor?" a familiar voice enunciated behind him, the pronunciation flawless, but not quite human. It had been months since he heard that voice. The professor turned around, to catch sight of two individuals who had somehow gotten into his lab, two individuals who likely didn't have the security clearance to even come within a 1-mile radius of The House.

It was Jojo and an old acquaintance from years ago, both of them dressed in what appeared to be city-plumbing maintenance work clothes. Jojo's companion had called herself Naga after a psychotic breakdown, based on a myth she'd read in South Asia. Their sudden appearance had unearthed many old memories, both good and bad. He remembered how the past had always been a struggle. But those days were easier compared to the present, and the difference that had made it so was that he'd fallen deeply in love with his three Girls.

"Jojo!" the professor greeted his new guest in surprise. "I didn't see you come in!"

"And… Michelle, was it? How long has it been?" the professor greeted the other person.

"Don't call me that. Michelle is dead, killed by Organization cruelty and experimentation. I am Naga now," Trench Coat Woman snapped at the professor. Professor Utonium had wanted to say more, remind her that he didn't help her escape to dedicate her life to hatred, but Jojo took precedence.

"Jojo… My good friend," he approached the Chimpanzee, the mutated animal did the same. "How did you get here? Did they bring you here?" They hugged.

"No, father," Jojo replied, his voice recognizable as sad by human standards. He wasn't even speaking in the usual repetitive fashion. "I had to fight my way here. The bad men tried to stop me coming here, but I came."

"I hate to break up the reunion, but the sooner we leave, the better, Jojo," Naga warned the Chimpanzee from not far away. "They'll discover the bodies sooner or later."

"What is she talking about? What bodies?" the professor asked, now worried, once again haunted by the same spectre that had been dogging him since Bloome's birth. The world, his world, had a way of staining the young, corrupting them. It was only a matter of degree.

"I had to kill to get in here, father," Jojo admitted, deciding that he wasn't going to hide anything from the one human being he trusted with his life. "I destroyed Charlie-02. They were bad. Evil. Loathsome!"

"How many did you kill? Who?" the professor asked, shocked. He found himself backing away from the Chimpanzee, who looked upset that rejection seemed inevitable. He knew that Professor Utonium was a good man, a paragon of morality and ethics as much as science. Naga had told him as much.

"Forty-three, father. Security men, scientists, supporters of the Organization. They were all trying to kill me, father. I had to kill them," the Chimpanzee explained, trying to bridge the gap between him and his father at the same time.

"The scientists and civilians too?" the professor uttered his question, horrified. He had friends who were in there, a few in security, many of them in science and the more supportive branches of the Organization. Jojo had gone overboard. He didn't even realize that he'd backed away so far that he'd returned to his desk. He groped for its corners for support as he felt his legs weaken. "Jojo, what have you become?"

"They were the Organization! If they did not try to kill me, they will attempt to get me killed! If they did not try to get me killed, they would help those who will! Father, please!" Jojo begged.

"And I'm not helping them? I work in the USDO too, Jojo! There are many good people in the USDO, Jojo! Just like me, and you just…" the professor reprimanded, but found himself to be too light-headed to finish. So many lives lost, so many innocent bystanders punished for the crimes of a few… "You shouldn't have killed anyone. I know you. You were superior in every way to the average human being. You could have avoided spilling any blood. Why, Jojo?"

"Vengeance… Revenge…" Jojo admitted, unwilling to lie. The professor's heart immediately broke after he heard it. "Father, please come with me. I've met some friends who were oppressed by the Organization just as much, just like you."

"I can't," the professor simply said.

"Why not?" Jojo pleaded. "You have nothing to lose in the Organization!"

"I have the three Girls now. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. I have to be with them," the professor said.

"You have other children?" Jojo said, disappointed, feeling cast aside by the fact. "You have… Other children? Other offsprings? You sired more?"

"I'm sorry, Jojo," the professor said.

"Then bring them with you to my friends in the Foundation-"

"The Foundation!" the professor roared, looking almost insane, uncharacteristic of him. The mere mention of the Foundation had brought everything from his tragic past back to the fore. "The Foundation killed my family!"

"I didn't know- Father, I-" Jojo tried to explain, but the professor had cut him off:

"Don't! Do not call me that again! If I was a father to you, you wouldn't have killed for revenge! You wouldn't have fallen in with the Foundation!" the professor chided. He pulled open a drawer on his desk, started to fumble around in it.

"You don't understand!" Jojo shrieked, upset at the rejection. "I trusted you! I looked up to you! I thought you would understand!"

Professor Utonium pulled out his pistol from the drawer, pointing it at both Jojo and Naga.

"I'll give you ten minutes before I call security. That's all I can give you now," Professor Utonium warned. "I don't ever want to see you again!"

"Don't worry, Jojo, he doesn't have the guts!" Naga said with a smirk. Although she was basically covered with weapons - four pistols, four swords and SMGs on her back, she had drawn none of them. She, too, knew the professor.

"He doesn't need to shoot. He had already killed me with his words alone," Jojo said dejected. With shoulders slumped, he made for the stairs. Naga followed, but before she left, she threw a triumphant smile at the professor. Without knowing it, the professor had done exactly what she needed. Everything was falling into place for her and the Foundation.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

9 DEC 1988. 2335.

By the time security came, Jojo and Naga were long gone. In fact, they were scarce the moment he went up the stairs to see them off, make sure that they didn't do anything to the Girls and Selicia. He'd then gone up to check on them, only to see that the Girls were asleep, and Selicia was still singing to them.

Professor Utonium found out later that Jojo had killed three officers to get past the security cordon surrounding the House. The new lieutenant in charge, a rather cold man, just like Agent Blake before he got to know the kids, believed that Jojo had planned it all thoroughly, based on the fact that the three officers were at their most vulnerable. They were occupying the most isolated position, and they were exhausted as they were nearing the end of their shift, waiting for their relief.

The incident had even put the professor off looking at the files containing information on the Girls' DNA sources. That his first child, so to speak, had turned to evil was demoralizing - he didn't have the stomach for any other bad news, even if it was only a chance of it.

But he knew he had to force himself to do it. It concerned his Girls. Jojo had only proven that he needed to do it right this time. After seeing a squad of security officers off, he returned to his lab and sat down at his desk. The very first envelop he opened was Bubbles', of course.

The first thing he noticed was the picture, and the photographer had developed it into a big one. The Kodak was an 11" by 14", showing Bubbles' DNA source in all her colored polaroid glory. And the resemblance was uncanny.

However, there were difference between Bubbles and Ester Olofsson. Ester was already bespectacled at the tender age of five, which wasn't encouraging. She had normal silver-blue eyes instead of glowing baby blue eyes. She wore her shoulder-length hair free and straight. There were also some minor differences in the expression of Ester and Bubbles' shared DNA that only the parents would notice - the ears and cheeks were imperceptibly different, and it could be put down to random epigenetics. Bubbles' source seemed normal on the surface. Ester Olofsson was smiling innocently at the camera, like how Bubbles would have done.

If only it was that simple. The professor poured through her medical data. Their height and weight seemed similar, with Ester Olofsson heavier by half a pound. The standard full range of medical examination yielded no positive results for any genetic or acquired diseases.

The USDO's assessment of Ester Olofsson's medical outlook was far more grim. Being a secret organization that had just jumped out of the closet, the USDO had access to medical technology beyond what was available to the general public, some provided for by the Institute, while others were developed by the USDO back when it was still the Organization. They were able to detect genetic abnormalities and markers for certain deficiencies.

Ester Olofsson had been tested positive for numerous genetic markers associated with low intelligence. It was as if she was genetically cursed - not only was she tested positive for low intelligence, the report stated as well that she had genetic markers for nearsightedness (which explained the spectacles), as well as hearing loss (which hadn't been expressed… yet).

An IQ test that was applied to Ester Olofsson, adjusted for her age, gave her a rating of 81, right next door to mental disability territory. Her parents were also tested, and it seemed that Ester had taken after her father, who was a first-generation Swedish immigrant, a former iron miner in his home country. The near-sightedness was from her mother, who was already over a thousand degrees into her blur vision, and she wasn't even as old as Professor Utonium.

Chemical X might have alleviated some of the difficulties associated with genetic low intelligence, allowing Bubbles to progress as she had. Professor Utonium had no doubt that if Bubbles was given the same IQ test, she would have scored higher. Ester wasn't as lucky. In her psychiatric report, she was diagnosed with early onset clinical depression due to poor performance in kindergarten and bullying. Her family situation wasn't much better. Although the family had gone into the low-middle-class since the father had started working security in a private firm, they were still plagued by a massive housing debt on their head. Arguments and fights were common at home. The depression was minor at present, but the psychiatrist in charge feared the worst.

"Poor girl," Professor Utonium said, referring to both Bubbles and Ester at the same time. He would have to test Bubbles' sight and hearing soon, just in case, and pay extra attention to her education - though he was starting to think that he wasn't the right man to be in charge of her early childhood education. Sure, he could teach non-euclidean and theoretical physics as if they were common sense, but to get a child to understand the ABCs and 123s from nothing was even harder. Next, he tore up Blossom's envelope and poured through her documents.

Aislinn Callaghan, fourth generation Irish American. Had Aislinn put on a pair of shades and switched places with Blossom, Professor Utonium would have been none the wiser, at least until the moment she had to demonstrate any superpowers. Unlike Bubbles, Blossom had grown in the labs to look exactly like Aislinn, except for the amber irises. Even her hair was made up the same way, perhaps by converging ideas as to how Blossom/Aislinn would look her best.

Aislinn, unlike Bubbles, had got off very lightly when it came to the grand game of natural selection. Both conventional and USDO medical and genetic screenings have yielded no genetic abnormalities or diseases. The only concern was that Aislinn was tested positive for sociopathy and Huntington's Disease in a few markers each, but the former would have had so minor an effect on her well-being that it didn't matter. The latter wouldn't even be expressed at all.

The psychiatry report stated little out of the ordinary. The family was poor, but happy. Their financial situation was kept stable through careful spending, the father's company's social program, and love. The parents were happy with their marriage despite it all. Aislinn had no psychiatric issues to speak of. She was tested for an IQ in excess of 139 in her adjusted test. Yet, even a child with such intelligence couldn't have learned as quickly as Blossom did - this fed into the professor's idea that Chemical X had the effect of enhancing intelligence.

Next, the professor tore open the lid of Buttercup's envelope-

"Hey, Thomas," a mischievous voice came from behind him. Professor Utonium jumped and swiveled on his chair. It was Selicia. The wife.

"It's past midnight. You shouldn't be down here," Selicia said, hugging him from behind, talking into his ear. He could feel her mouth or tongue coming at anytime, but it didn't. "Besides, we have to get used to getting in bed together and- what's that you got there?"

"Oh, that - nothing, just some reports from the lab for Chemical X," the professor lied. He couldn't trust her, not yet. Perhaps in the future, if she had proven that she had no secret agenda from the USDO, but not at present. "I've just resumed my research on Chemical X."

"Come to bed, dear," Selicia said. "Besides, I'm supposed to make sure you don't work yourself to death again."

"One second, sergeant," Professor Utonium said. Taking the documents and the one unopened envelope, he dumped them into a filing cabinet. Selicia didn't waste anytime, and started pulling him by the hand towards the stairs the moment he was done.

"Oh c'mon, Thomas," Selicia said, making her voice a little sultry this time. "You need to drop the formalities. It wouldn't do if the Girls heard it. I really need to unwind you a little…" Selicia laughed playfully after that, and Professor Utonium couldn't help but to shudder at what might be coming next.

Chapter Text

Chapter 32: Truth

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

10 DEC 1988. 0904.

Professor Utonium was staring into space during breakfast. He could not help it; the moment he woke up, he could only think about last night. The fake wedding ring on his left ring finger felt heavier than it should be.

Last night, the professor had insisted on sleeping in the living room couch, but Selicia had told him to do so otherwise.

"It'd look suspicious, Thomas darling," Selicia had said, injecting her terms of endearment as usual. Real or practiced acting, Professor Utonium could not tell, still. In the end, he'd relented and sat in bed. Selicia was onto him immediately after that. He could feel her hands on his shoulders the moment he was down. Military alacrity and precision, he supposed. "Jesus, 'Utonium', you're stiffer than the last corpse I made!"

She'd given him a massage, and he would be lying if he said it didn't feel good. That was when he could feel her lips on his neck, and that had the opposite effect of the massage.

"Goodwin! God!" the professor shot up from the bed after that, facing her immediately.

"What, Thomas? If we're going to be parents to the Girls, fake biological parents, then we'd better start acting convincingly, darling," Selicia instructed. The amused smile on her face told him that she was anything but offended, or frustrated. It was almost as if she was enjoying this - though which part of it, he wasn't very sure. Was she a lustful demon? Was she sadistic, knowing full well that he hadn't let go of Eileen a few years ago? Or was she simply playing games? He couldn't believe that it was all just for the sake of putting on a good show - the only audience in the bedroom was the ghost of his dead wife.

"Look, can we just- Let's just go to sleep, like you suggested?" the professor changed the subject instead. "I'm tired anyway. You're right that I needed a break."

"Right. Sorry for coming on to you so quickly," Selicia said, unexpectedly respectful. She had always been a wild card, something he knew right from the start. She picked up her pillow, inspecting the XM4 Carbine rifle she'd put underneath it.

"You put a gun in our bed!?" the professor shouted in shock.

"After what happened today? You should be lucky I don't put the entire armory under my pillow," Selicia explained. She dropped her pillow on the carbine rifle after that, hiding it. The SWAT officer had brought her own armory to the House - a couple of rifles, a couple of shotguns, about six handguns and boxes upon boxes of bullets. It explained why her duffel bag had rattled and clunked when she searched for the 'wedding presents'.

It was lights out after that. Despite his drowsiness, he'd kept his eyes open, and for good reason. It wasn't even five minutes after the lights were out when Sergeant Selicia Goodwin had rolled over to him, putting an arm on his chest. He could feel her fingertips gently caressing him.

It took him an hour before he could fall asleep, and that was after waiting for Selicia to begin snoring.

"Dad? Daa-aad? Buttercup to Dad?" the professor heard one of the Girls as he snapped out of his thoughts. "What are we doing today?"

"Oh, well…" the professor was at a loss for words. He was still recovering from his recollections of the night before. He was saved by the doorbell, literally. It rang, once, then twice, then thrice. The person on the other side of the door seemed impatient. But then again, that would describe the majority of the people in USDO. If nothing else, the USDO had a reputation for being efficient, even if brutal. "Oh my, who could be visiting at this time?"

The professor made a move to leave the table, but Selicia had beaten him to the door. "I'll get it," she said.

"So what are we doing today?" Buttercup asked again, impatient.

When Selicia opened the door, she knew who to expect. It was the Chief of Security, Blackwater.

"Sergeant Goodwin?" he greeted in his gravelly voice, always looking like World War II was still an ongoing affair as usual. Professor Utonium came up behind his 'wife', and he could only wonder what this was about.

"Come in, sir," she stepped aside, and the huge man ducked his head as he entered the House. He was pulling a trolley behind him in.

"Blackwater. Are you here to do more scans?" the professor asked, not without a degree of snark. "I'm surprised you didn't push ten or twenty of your men into my house first."

"Believe me, I wanted to," Blackwater said to the professor, looking at him with a condescending sideways glance. "But that is not necessary. I think I've established that the Girls are of no threat. I left them outside instead." Blackwater pointed his thumb backwards. The professor looked past the huge security officer to see six SWAT officers and ten regular officers lined up outside just as Selicia closed the door.

"Tommy dear, don't be rude to the house guest," Selicia said to her 'husband', then turned to her boss. "Can I offer you something? A cup of orange juice?"

"I see that you've settled in really nice and comfy, sergeant," Blackwater said, ignoring her offer. "Don't get too comfortable. You have a job to do."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" the professor asked again. He didn't like that the USDO was a common source of interruption in his family life.

"I have something for the kids," Blackwater replied. He wheeled the trolley in front of him. It was filled with nondescript, unmarked duffel bags, smaller than Selicia's. He reached down to one of them and unzipped it, breaking a security seal that was supposed to guarantee no tampering until delivery. Inside the duffel bag, Thomas and Selicia could see a dark forest green helmet and bullet resistant vest. Shockingly, there was also a compact pistol in a holster, the only two things that weren't color-coded. Blackwater knew what they were looking at, what they were concerned about - well, it was mainly Professor Utonium who was concerned. "That's just in case."

The last time Blackwater had said that was when he gave the professor his pistol. The giant had a habit of over-preparing. Had the Girls been vulnerable to gunshots, the results would have been disastrous.

"Doesn't take a head of department to deliver a package, Chief, what's up?" Selicia added.

"The Mayor of Townsville wants to see the kids tomorrow. A convoy will pick the five of you up," Blackwater declared. "Make sure to put the kids in those kits tomorrow if you know what's good for them. It's not just to showcase them, it's just as much for their protection. We don't know who's watching. Intelligence thinks that our security is tight, but the Foundation did come in here yesterday."

"So, a package and a message - when we have deliverymen and telephones. Is that all, Chief?" the professor asked, hoping that his loathsome colleague would just go - just leave.

"No, professor. You bet there's more-" the Chief of Security reached out for Utonium with a hand, intending to seize him by the collar. Selicia, afraid of exposing violence to the Girls at this point, stood between the men. He retracted his hand. "I see that you're getting really comfortable in this House, Goodwin. Was the bed big and warm enough for the both of you? Alice wasn't wrong about you."

"You better not screw this up, Upton," the Chief of Security simply pointed at him. "Have you prepared the Girls for law enforcement operations yet?"

"I've told them what they were meant to do. They expressed the desire to fight crime," Professor Utonium reported, his face downcast. It was the equivalent of seeing an eighteen-year-old son to a foreign war. With the professor, it was more than thrice true. "But they don't know how it's like, Blackwater, can't we-"

"Can't we what? There's no going back, and there's no alternative. The Girls are it, and the USDO depends on them to be viable organic crime-fighting platforms," Blackwater retorted. "Anyway, it's not enough that they know. They must be trained for it, even if it's only a few day's training."

"A few days?" Selicia picked up on the urgency.

"If everything goes well, and the Mayor gives his approval, the City and USDO will begin trials for the Girls. It could all happen within a few days," Blackwater explained.

"A few days…" Professor Utonium dragged on, now afraid, really afraid for his Girls.

"If it makes you feel any better, we've bought the Girls some sports cars. That's the kind of royal treatment even I don't get, not that I'd want it," Blackwater added. He unloaded the trolley with Selicia's help. For a brief moment, he made eye contact with the Girls. Bubbles waved at him as they smiled innocently. He managed a bitter half smile before making to leave. "And professor? Don't forget about what Silverslick said, especially when it comes to Bubbles.

Professor Utonium froze up. Bubbles and Silverslick. The damned grading system. Bubbles hadn't even put a single foot in a crime scene, and already, she was penalized, and hard. He remembered the veiled threat the Wall Street wolf and Cliff had given him. 'I'm sure it wouldn't come to that - as long as you do what is necessary for B-49's well-being,' Cliff had said.

The Girls were onto them the moment Blackwater had closed the door. Sprinting at the top speed of a regular human being was like walking as slow as a grandma to them. They giggled as they stood over the duffel bags like kids on Christmas day.

"Wow, Dad, what are those things?" the three asked simultaneously, excitedly.

"Are they for us?" Bubbles asked. "Are they more soft toys?"

"Are they more cars? Bigger ones? Or- or- what about rocket ships?" Buttercup asked, not knowing that she'd be getting some life-sized luxury cars the next day.

"These are… presents, just for you!" Selicia said. "I just thought I'd get them for you."

"Wow, thanks, Mommy!" the three said in unity once more.

"But… What are they?" Blossom asked again.

"Well… How about the three of you finish your breakfast, and we'll find out in your room?" the professor suggested. The Girls immediately darted back to the dining table. "Not too fast, Girls! You don't want to choke on your waffles!"

The professor wasn't even sure if the Girls were capable of choking. The superior lung capacity that enabled them to run as fast as they could might just mean that they'd blow out whatever blockages there were in their windpipe. What he was sure, though, was that he didn't like how fast things were going. Within three weeks, the Girls could be out there.

"C'mon, Thomas, let's move these bags up," Selicia nudged at him as she picked up two of the duffel bags, her biceps bulging a little as she did. She knew that her 'husband' was very much upset by these plans, which was why he chose to separate himself from the Girls. "Hold it together, alright?"

The professor picked one of the duffel bags up, and realized that they were incredibly heavy despite being made for 5-year-olds. Knowing Blackwater, he'd probably ordered them packed with kevlar beyond even what normal soldiers were meant to carry. The armor seemed even heavier than the Girls themselves. Even Selicia was having trouble with the duffel bags, and she'd been pumping iron thrice weekly. By the time they were at the Girls' room, they were sweating like they'd ran across Townsville.

"The Girls are going to work at three weeks old. I can't believe this," Professor Utonium lamented as he sat down on the Girls' bed. "My baby girls… They haven't even gone to school yet. I wish… Sometimes I wish they were just normal little Girls."

"Don't say that, Thomas. They're who they are and we've got to accept that," Selicia said.

"We', Selicia? There's no 'we'! I heard the way Blackwater talked about you. What are the two of you planning!?" The professor accused.

"Thomas! I- just because Blackwater and I worked in the same department doesn't mean anything-" Selicia tried to reassure him, but Utonium didn't wait to say what he had I mind next.

"Don't play dumb with me, and don't treat me like an idiot. There's got to be something. With twice the number of departments, why security? Why not—Why not get Bellum to play house with me, or Alice, or one of my lab techs?" the professor asserted.

"Thomas darling, the Girls are going to hear-"

"Don't call me that! I want answers!"

"You're having a bad morning, I get that-"

"And if you want me to feel better, I want answers!"

"Look, okay, we exchanged a few words before I came here, that's all," Selicia admitted. "But it's not some big JFK assassination conspiracy or anything. Blackwater just wants someone to make sure he didn't need to put his squads on nanny duty. He also needs a parent with the girls who knows about law enforcement, to train and teach the Girls. It's not wrong, you know! They're going in with or without me, with or without training. I didn't lie about what I feel, Thomas. I do feel something for the Girls. You're not bad yourself too… Isn't that what's most important?"

"When I went for the interview, they had this file on me. They knew what I wanted. I guess those bastards had eyes everywhere," Selicia went on, when the professor thought there was nothing more. She'd started crying and wiping those tears away."I have this stupid dream of a perfect family. I guess even my best friend can't keep his mouth shut. Perfect husband, perfect kids who no one's going to mess with because I'm there, alongside… You. I guess a bad childhood can do that to you, huh?"

"I didn't know you really feel that way," the professor sort-of apologized, standing up, actually thinking of reciprocating. Selicia went up to him and hugged him, her sweat and tears absorbed by his lab coat. He was only just realizing that it was a common occurrence, going back in history to Eileen and Bloome.

The door slammed open after that, and both Professor and Miss Utonium jumped at the sudden noise.

"Oh, sorry, Daddy, I think I was too excited," Blossom apologized. The three of them smiled when they saw their parents in each other's arms.

"It's fine, Girls," the professor said, putting on his usual air of calmness, then childish excitement. "it's understandable, since it's time to unbox your presents, right, darling?"

"Right. You know what would be cool? I'm going to get my own gear. And the camera," Selicia said, similarly putting on her usual act. Only Buttercup appeared to suspect something. "Why don't Daddy help you unpack?"

Selicia left without waiting for a response. She simply assumed the positive as she went to her room. She needed to stall, get the tears and red out of her eyes. Despite it all, she couldn't blame Thomas for what he said – she knew from the inside that the USDO had been turning the screws on him and the Girls a bit much. She'd have to try her best to make it as painless as possible… For her perfect family.

Back in the Girls' room, the Professor had been helping the Girls with laying out the gear that came in the duffel bag. There was a list in each duffel bag, and the man had to go through it to make sure nothing was missing. He'd tried to look on the bright side. Perhaps the USDO really wasn't that bad. After all, they had provided everything for the Girls. A less magnanimous, more dictatorial regime couldn't have cared less. Right?

When Selicia was back, she knew exactly the angle for the Girls' miniature SWAT gear. But she was honest to God. They were playing dress-up at present, but she'd told them exactly what the 'presents' were for. The Girls', however, couldn't help but to see things from an ignorant and innocent point-of-view. It was the same as putting their frilly party dress on. With a wardrobe to their name, they understood the concept of different clothes for different occasions, and the SWAT gear was just another addition to the collection.

"Its heavier than the other dresses…" Bubbles commented as she stared at herself in the mirror. She could barely see her face at all. It was the strangest set of headpieces she ever wore. In fact, she could hardly see any exposed skin. The SWAT gear was made to fit based on their medical information, so the result was a perfect fit. She had to undo her pig tails for comfort, but the helmet and goggles had covered her entire face but the lower part: the lower half of her nose, her mouth and the skin around it. Her chin was covered by the helmet strap.

She had a vest on with pistol magazine pouches on her chest. Her pistol was kept in a holster left of her stomach. She had elbow and knee pads on. Shoulder pads held extra kevlar protecting her flanks. Thigh pads did the same for her legs. Underneath it all, she had a miniaturized army uniform on, dyed simple blue. Her SWAT gear was mainly dark blue, resembling the preferred color of the police. Black leather boots enclosed her feet like predatory animals. She couldn't help but to feel a little claustrophobic.

Blossom and Buttercup were dressed the same way, except Blossom had a red uniform on, with her SWAT gear in maroon, while Buttercup had army green underneath and dark green on her SWAT gear.

"Its hard to see, Mommy," Blossom said. The helmet and goggles had limited her peripheral vision.

"You'll get used to it," Selicia said. She had changed into her own SWAT gear as well, though hers was mostly black with grey trimmings. The only odd one out was Professor Utonium, who could only watch as his Girls transformed themselves into a squad of killing machines.

"It's hot and itchy," Buttercup complained as she furiously scratched herself.

"And it's hard to move," Bubbles said. It'd only reminded the professor of how human they were. Apparently, their super-abilities weren't omnipresent. At least, that was what he observed. The Girls hadn't broken any plates or destroyed any doors by touching them. Therefore, they could control the amount of strength they put into an action as finely as any regular human being – with the difference being that they had a much, much higher upper limit.

"Thomas dear, do you mind setting up the camera?" Selicia requested as she was helping to adjust the Girls' gear.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33: Winds of Change

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

11 DEC 1988. 1409.

"-And put your hands up like this," Selicia had been instructing the Girls down in the labs. She had put the Girls in a row in front of her, teaching them the most basics of the defensive arts. The Girls put their fists in front of them, but their posture was all wrong. Selicia went over to them to make the corrections. Professor Utonium watched from his desk as he was typing up a report on some earlier tests and medical screenings he had done on the Girls.

"This is funny," Bubbles said as Mommy adjusted her arms by pulling them up higher.

"Yeah? I think this is fun!" Buttercup added.

"If it helps us fight crime…" Blossom said reluctantly. She never had violence in mind. She had always thought that fighting crime was all about speaking to the offenders and getting them to stop whatever wrong they were doing.

"Okay, good. Now, Girls, just thrust your fist forward like this-" Selicia demonstrated by giving the air a straight punch with her right hand. For the sake of clarity, she'd put no oomph into it. "To punch."

The Girls copied her example with varying degrees of accuracy. Buttercup was most familiar with it, due to her secret culling of pet animals and the incident in the cinema ladies' room. She'd put so much force into her air-punch that there was a loud whipping sound. Even Selicia, who was yards away, could feel the wind from it as Buttercup had almost instantly changed from little girl to killing machine. Blossom was able to mimic her mother effectively, but she lacked the confidence to put any force into it. Bubbles' 'punch' went off-centre, and she'd dropped her defensive posture to do it, and she'd done all that with her eyes closed.

"Bubbles! You're not doing it right!" Selicia bellowed at the gentlest of them all. She marched over to her and reset her posture roughly, putting her fists up again. The sudden change in Selicia's disposition had shaken Bubbles such that she'd started tearing a little. "Good, now look to the front, aim at where you're looking at, and thrust you arm forward like how I did it!"

Selicia returned to the front to observe Bubbles again. And Bubbles… did the exact same thing with very little improvement. "Bubbles! You're not listening!"

This went on a few more times until Bubbles had burst into tears. "Bubbles, stop crying," Selicia ordered unsympathetically. Bubbles couldn't turn off the tap, and it was turned on at full blast as she rubbed her eyes and tried in vain to wipe it all away. Selicia took Bubbles by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop crying!"

"Isn't this too much?" the professor said from behind her.

"We can't coddle them all the time," Selicia said coldly before returning her angry gaze to Bubbles, who backed away when she did. Her inconsolable screams and waterfalls had become pathetic whimpers and streams, but Mommy wasn't pleased. "If you're going to keep crying, go to that corner-" she pointed to a dirty alley between a huge supercomputer and a wall, "-and bawl your eyes out for all I care! Don't come back until you're done."

Instead of going to the corner, Bubbles ran up the stairs instead, her bawling worse than before. The professor glared at Selicia, who didn't seem too bothered by what she did.

"I'll get her," the professor mumbled before running up the stairs after Bubbles.

Selicia continued her training with Buttercup and Blossom uninterrupted. Buttercup seemed unaffected by what had happened with Bubbles, but Blossom was staring at the stairs with dismay now that they were one girl short. She did love her 'little' sister so dearly, who was always right by her side as a companion. It didn't stop her from executing a straight punch with precision though, but… "Blossom, why can't you be more like Buttercup? Put some strength into your punch!"

Buttercup chuckled with triumph. For once, she was finally above her sisters, getting more attention than they were.

Upstairs, Professor Utonium searched the living room for his most timid adopted daughter. "Bubbles? Are you in here?" But he knew she wouldn't have been. He would have heard her.

He went upstairs, keeping his ears peeled, but he already knew where she would be. The Girls' room was where she first woke up and it was the centre of her activities. It would make sense as a place she would fall back to.

Sure enough, when he was close, he could hear muffled weeping coming from the other side of the door. He opened it. He didn't see her immediately until he was fully inside. A sizeable lump in the blanket told him exactly where she was.

"Go away!" Bubbles shouted. The professor did the opposite. That she would prefer to be alone and not with her one and only beloved Daddy was a huge red flag.

"Are you sure you want Daddy to leave?" Professor Utonium said. Bubbles poked her head out of the blanket, sniffling. He took it as a no.

"I thought you were mom," she stuttered, still trying to keep a lid on her meltdown. Bubbles was never any good at that.

"Your mother meant well, you know," the professor tried to explain. He sat down next to Bubbles, and that had gotten halfway out of her blanket. Octi emerged from the cushion-y depths of the bed in her arms; it'd served as a surrogate tear-sponge in the absence of her parents.

"She hates me," Bubbles cried as she cuddled with the professor, who gave her a squeeze.

"No, Bubbles. She doesn't," the professor reassured her, and he couldn't believe that he was siding with Selicia – it wasn't that he wouldn't, or couldn't find the reason to. It was just that the way things had changed so quickly had jarred him a little. "She's just concerned about you. She's afraid for you. She's scared of what will happen if you can't fight crime, or even protect yourself."

"But I don't want to fight crime. I want to stay here with you," Bubbles confessed, but at least she had stopped crying. The professor wiped her face with a handkerchief.

"I'll always be here, Bubbles. Just remember that, okay? You can always come back to me at the end of the day," Professor Utonium said.

"But what if I don't want to leave in the first place?" Bubbles contended.

"You have to. Your sisters are going, and you can't let them go alone. They need you," the professor reasoned, but he felt dirty for doing so. It was all the more painful as he couldn't let it show. Justifying it was his only comfort, a double-edged sword that he thought would surely cut him in the days to come. "It's what you're meant to do, sweetie. The City and millions of people will love you for it." He'd failed to mention the fact that thousands, likely, would be after her blood, too.

"I'm scared of going back down, Dad. What if Mommy shouts at me again?" Bubbles said, pulling Octi close to her chest.

"I have a feeling she won't. I'll be with you, alright?" the professor promised. He made to stand up, and held out a hand for Bubbles to take. She did.

Back downstairs, Selicia was still working with Blossom and Buttercup on the punches, this time showing them the double-punch with the left and right. Buttercup had actually surpassed all expectations by repeating the action so fast that she ended up with what could only be adequately called 'machinegun punches'. Selicia had to get her to slow down.

"Good work, Buttercup! That'd show the bad guys!" Selicia had praised the girl who was fast becoming her favorite. But Buttercup did not respond. Instead, Blossom and she was looking behind her. Selicia turned around to see that Bubbles had returned, her hand held by the professor.

"Bubbles!" Selicia remarked, neither disapprovingly nor with the same kind of warmth she'd put on topside. "It's nice for you to join us again. Go back to the same posture as before."

"Go easy on her, honey," the professor said as he let go of Bubbles' hand and gently nudged her to join her sisters. Bubbles stared at Mommy with apprehension. "She's really delicate. Besides, she'll learn nothing if she gets upset."

As if to prove that, Bubbles just stood there, her mother-turned-instructor's orders not followed. Then there was one other thing. Octi was held tightly in her other hand. Selicia gave a sigh; it was going to be a long day, and they didn't have lots of time, as the morning was spent on playing and the ABCs, and the late afternoon and evening was taken up by the visit to the Mayor's office.

With the professor vigilantly watching, Selicia did little to force Bubbles' conformation. She allowed the shy little girl to err in her posture and striking techniques, and she made little progress when her sisters, especially Buttercup, were naturals when it came to the defensive arts. Selicia noticed that Buttercup was just like her, sans the history of domestic violence (at least as far as she knew), and she had no reservations about doing harm, and reveled in the practice to do harm. Even the security officer was worried that the green-eyed girl would go too far. As for Blossom, she was incredibly bright, and made little mistakes in following her instructions or copying her posture. She would punch and kick as she was told, but her conscience, her concern for Buttercup and those around her, meant that she wouldn't dare put any force in her blows.

When it came time for a one-on-one physical training, Buttercup was jumping with joy while her sisters weren't too thrilled.

Blossom was made to put on some pads on her hands while Buttercup punched those pads. Despite being asked to pull back on her punches, Buttercup had sent Blossom flying half the room away. The ravenette's definition of pulling back was a grave understatement. Thankfully, this did not injure Blossom, and wasn't repeated again, especially not when Blossom and Bubbles did the punching and kicking.

Things became far less tense when Selicia got the Girls to tackle some football tackle sleds. Even Bubbles was a powerhouse when it came to this; despite being loaded down with steel weights, the Girls were able to move the tackle sleds across the room with such ease as if they were cat-sized dolls. They had hardly broken out any sweat throughout training.

11 DEC 1988. 1703.

After a bath, the Girls had to go to their room to put their armor on. The weight was never a problem, but the complexity of the outfit was. Selicia had to familiarize them with it, and she suspected that she would have to be around for a few more rounds of this before they could do it themselves. Little girls their age, after all, weren't expected to dress up for war.

Blossom tried to make her combat outfit look nicer by taping her signature bow to her helmet, and Selicia thought it looked okay, so she allowed the red-head to keep it. Buttercup couldn't care less, being absorbed by thoughts of violence, while Bubbles was still upset over a mother who had turned out to be fearsome that she needed extra help with her armor.

When they were done, Blossom and Buttercup jogged out of the room, trying to get used to the awkwardness of weighing more than twice their usual body weight, while Bubbles was dragging her feet out.

"Wait!" Selicia said to the blonde. Bubbles turned around obediently, playing with her hands. Even with her SWAT gear on, which was supposed to make her seem a bit more intimidating, Bubbles still seemed cute.

"Yes, Mommy?" Bubbles mumbled, afraid that speaking in a higher volume might set her mother off somehow.

"I'm sorry I shouted at you," Selicia said. Bubbles continued to stare at the floor, pointing her feet at each other as if they were some great puzzle. "I was just terrified for you, that's all."

"Daddy told me," Bubbles acknowledged.

"Am I still your Mommy?" Selicia asked, regret in her voice. Bubbles came up to her, and hugged her. It was harder to do so, considering the bulk of her battle dress. Selicia hugged her back, and as her face was out of view, kept an emotionally lethargic look. Her relationship with Bubbles seemed so uncertain now - when Thomas insisted that she let Bubbles off lightly, the quality of her training had taken a nosedive. From here onwards, it seemed as if there was only two options: either preserve her mother-daughter relationship and let Bubbles' training suffer, or train Bubbles harder and strain her mother-daughter relationship. She didn't know what was best.

When it came time for a visit to the Mayor in City Hall, the Girls were already ready with their SWAT gear on, as a result of their Mother's preparedness. They even had time to watch a pair of puppets tell jokes on television. Selicia, as a sign of solidarity, had put her own SWAT gear on, while the professor had donned his bullet resistant vest on her insistence.

When a convoy of three white Lamborghini sports cars, looking bulkier than usual, had slowed to a stop up front, the family left The House hand-in-hand, with Buttercup and Blossom between Selicia and Professor Utonium and Bubbles taking the professor's other hand. The middle speed-transport flung open its doors like wings, and from the driver's seat emerged Agent Blake, and he was wearing the same SWAT gear as Selicia, but without the helmet and eyewear.

"Whoa, cool!" Buttercup said as she admired her new carriage.

"Mister Blake!" Blossom and Bubbles resounded when they saw him. They broke the Utonium human chain and charged up to him, hugging him by the legs. Buttercup joined them after that, with a smile on her face, a facial expression that was slowly becoming rare on her.

"I hope you weren't in trouble because of us," Blossom said, a clear, apologetic tone in her voice. Agent Blake could hardly make out her facial expression because of her helmet and goggles, but when he did, he smiled and stroked her hair, or at least the part of her enclosing helmet that corresponded to her hair.

"No, no, whatever trouble I got into was my own responsibility," Agent Blake said. "They, erm, just asked me a few questions."

"Will you come play with us forever and ever and ever?" Bubbles asked, almost creepily, as she was taken over by hopefulness. She was hoping for more love and comfort, especially after what had happened with Mommy.

"You'll visit us, right?" Blossom hoped, more level-headed.

"Well, I'm not sure about that… I'd love to, but…" Agent Blake meandered a little, and the Girls' expression became increasingly dejected when he went on. "I've got something else. I'm supposed to drive you around in this new car from now on, and accompany you whenever you head out." He gestured at the car.

"That's even better!" Buttercup exclaimed. "There's lots of cool stuff I learned from Mommy I want to show you!"

"Mommy?" Agent Blake wondered aloud. "Since when did you have a mother?"

"That's me, haha," Selicia said as she came forward, removing her combat goggles.

"Sergeant Selicia Goodwin," Agent Blake said. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has been," Selicia agreed. "Seems like forever that life-and-death was a problem."

"I'm glad it's all behind us now, with these Girls ahead of us," Agent Blake said. "Anyway, we've got to hustle up. The Director and Mayor are expecting us."

The winds picked up just as the Girls got into their Lamborghini transport, threatening to change the scene drastically. "A storm must be coming," Agent Blake said as he got into the driver's seat. "Better buckle up and hope the ride doesn't take long."

Chapter Text

B-47, B-48 and B-49 W3 Series Tests

DOC: 11 DEC 1988

The following are tests and examinations done by Agent Utonium on B-47, B-48 and B-49 and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin.

Desc: The purpose of today's battery of tests is to:

1)Examine the Girls medically using conventional techniques, then advanced medical imaging tools brought in with the help of Wiggums and his logistics team. The entire spectrum of tests are to be performed due to the unprecedented nature of the Girls' 'condition'.

2)Determine the upper limit of the Girls' senses. This will include the testing of all five senses, after Blossom brought up to me that there is something 'wrong' with her eyes. When asked for clarification, she said that things became 'bigger' when she concentrated hard on seeing something. She even said that she could see things that are blocked by others.

3)Determine the reaction speed of the Girls. This is a natural step from their speed tests and my observations of their ability to complete complex tasks with their hands. They would sometimes rapidly construct buildings with their blocks at speeds beyond that of normal children. Agent Blake reported that they were able to manufacture snowballs 'like factories'. Whenever they run at speeds beyond human limits, they did not appear to struggle to coordinate their feet and body, nor become anymore clumsier than they are walking.

B-47, B-48 and B-49 W3 Standard Medical Examinations

Tests Performed with Normal Results

Vitals

Heart Rate: Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup are all tested normal.

Respiration: Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup are all tested normal.

Blood Pressure: Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup are all tested normal.

Physical Examination

Height and Weight: The Girls did not appear to have grown in the past three weeks. Measurements remained the same. However, this is inconclusive due to the short time elapsed since their creation.

Head: No visible swelling in all Girls. The Girls reported no pain or pressure in their heads.

Eyes: Blossom's irises remains pink and slightly glowing. Bubbles' remain baby blue and slightly glowing. Buttercup's remain green and slightly glowing. Reason for luminescence and change in hue still unknown. Further examinations below.

Chest: No abnormalities and unusual swellings. No sign of pneumothorax, whether micro or macro. Their lung capacity has been discovered to be incredibly high. Without training, the Girls are able to hold their breath for 5 minutes and 13 seconds without difficulty. I will devise a real test of their lung capacity for the near future.

Abdomen: No abnormalities and unusual swellings on any of them.

Limbs: No abnormalities beyond the fact that they can lift five hundred pounds with one hand without injury or exhaustion.

Nervous Function: All of them tested normal. I administered a quick reaction test, and I found their reaction time to be exceedingly fast. Their response to visual cues clock in at about 0.12 seconds, 0.10 seconds for audio cues and 0.09 for touch cues. This is without prior training. Full details available on attached report.

Skin, Hair, Nails: No discoloration indicating malnutrition, poor or excess blood circulation, or disease.

Genitalia and Rectum: Normal and fully formed for 5-year-olds. No obstructions and unusual growths.

Tests Performed with New Results

Medical Imaging

MRI: At first glance, the Girls' internals appear to be normal, with no additional organs, glands and bones. This is actually unexpected, considering their enhanced performance in almost every respect. The only extraordinary thing is that their bones appear to be denser than normal. However, a full analysis will take time.

Neurological CT Scan: Brain and glands appear normal for Blossom and Bubbles. However, Buttercup's result is concerning in that the structure and activity of her right orbitofrontal cortex, right anterior cingulate cortex and left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex appears to be abnormal and reduced. I will need time to look through the images after they have been developed. I might need to consult the specialists under Doctor Simmons on what all of this means as I am not as well versed in neurology as I am in other areas. In the meantime, I might need to devise a set of questions with Buttercup to determine how her unusual brain structure and activity has affected her.

B-47, B-48 and B-49 Sensory Tests

Sight

Eye Chart

Desc: This test is done with a modified eye chart. Standard eye charts would have 10 rows of increasingly smaller alphabets. I have increased this to 20, with the last few rows so small that it is almost impossible even for a human being with 20/20 vision to see even at a 1 foot distance. Due to the Girls' unfamiliarity with the English Alphabets (with the exception of Blossom), I have opted to use simple symbols instead, which the Girls will have to draw on an A4-sized paper.

Subjects Involved:

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin (She is ideal as a control due to her good eyesight as a young security officer)

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Equipment Used:

1x Modified Eye Chart

4x Study Chair w/ Attached Tabletop

8x Pencils

8x Erasers

4x Lecture Pads

4x Eye Test Forms

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Operating Procedure:

- Selicia and the Girls are to be seated 20 feet away from the eye chart.

- They are to be tested simultaneously, with the slowest test subject setting the pace.

- Subjects are to be instructed to raise their hand once they are done.

- The entire group will progress to the next row of smaller symbols once everyone is done.

- Speed as well as accuracy are to be recorded.

Test results

Row 1 (20/200)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes.

Notes: This is to be expected. No fundamental difference in speed of completion between the four.

Row 2 (20/100)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes.

Notes: No difference in speed.

Row 3 (20/70)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes.

Notes: No difference in speed.

Row 4 (20/50)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes.

Notes: No difference in speed.

Row 5 (20/40)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes.

Notes: No difference in speed.

Row 6 (20/30)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with no mistakes. 4th fastest

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. No decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes. 2nd fastest.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes. 3rd fastest

Notes: Blossom appears to show no sign of slowing down. When questioned about the difficulty of the test, she says that it hasn't increased at all. Unsurprisingly, Sergeant Selicia Goodwin has started to lag behind as we approach 20/20.

Row 7 (20/25)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with two mistakes. 4th fastest

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. No decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes. 2nd fastest. Negligible decrease in speed.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes. 3rd fastest. Negligible decrease in speed.

Notes: Blossom continues to blaze through the test. Despite their slower speed, Bubbles and Buttercup are still proven to have excellent eyesight.

Row 8 (20/20)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Passed with four mistakes. 4th fastest

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. No decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes. 2nd fastest. Slight decrease in speed.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with no mistakes. 3rd fastest. Slight decrease in speed. Shows strain.

Notes: No change in Blossom's condition. Bubbles appear to be somewhat distressed by the test. Could this be a manifestation of her genetic disposition towards nearsightedness? Her last placement (not counting the control) and the strain on her eyes seem to support this. Selicia expresses that her eyesight has might have worsened since her last test, as she used to make only 1-2 errors in the 20/20 row.

Row 9 (20/15)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Failed with 7 mistakes. 4th fastest

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. No decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with no mistakes. 2nd fastest. Minor decrease in speed

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with one mistake. 3rd fastest. Minor decrease in speed. Shows strain

Notes: At this point, I was beginning to believe that I have recreated Blossom's 'wrongness' with her eye. When I asked her about any change in her vision, she says that she seemed to be able to make the symbols bigger. I will have to examine her eye structure more closely than in the standard medical examination. Despite having made one mistake, Bubbles' vision has been conclusively established to be far superior to her genetic source's, though I still think her genes have a bearing on her performance.

Row 10 (20/10)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Completely wrong. She opts out of further testing.

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. No decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with two mistakes. 2nd fastest. Moderate decrease in speed. Seems angry.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed with four mistake. 3rd fastest. Moderate decrease in speed. Shows distress.

Notes: Blossom is still doing well as if the 20/10 row is the 20/200 row. Buttercup snaps her pencil in two with her right hand. Her anger might be a sign of strain as much as Bubbles' despair and stress. Bubbles must be hitting close to her limit.

Row 11 (20/5)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. Negligible decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed with five mistakes. 2nd fastest. Moderate decrease in speed. She is frustrated.

B-49 (Bubbles): Failed with seven mistakes. 3rd fastest. Significant decrease in speed. Shows distress.

Notes: Blossom appears to be slowing down. Buttercup and Bubbles refuses to back down despite the difficulty.

Row 12 (20/3)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. Negligible decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Failed with seven mistakes. 2nd fastest. Significant decrease in speed.

B-49 (Bubbles): Completely wrong. 3rd fastest. Significant decrease in speed.

Notes: Bubbles leaves the test from now onwards.

Row 13 (20/2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with no mistakes. Fastest completion. Slight decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): Completely wrong. 2nd fastest. Significant decrease in speed.

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Buttercup leaves the test. Blossom is encountering a degree of difficulty. However, she does not seem to show it.

Row 14 (20/1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with one mistake. Minor decrease in speed.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: If nothing else, this test and the last proves Blossom's observation of her own sight.

Row 15 (20/0.7)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Passed with three mistakes. Moderate decrease in speed. Shows strain.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: I believe we are hitting the limit of Blossom's 'vision zoom' ability.

Row 16 (20/0.5)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Failed with five mistakes. Significant decrease in speed. Shows strain.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Theoretical limit of her vision.

Row 17 (20/0.4)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): Completely wrong. Significant decrease in speed. Shows strain.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom bows out after a good showing.

Row 18 (20/0.3)

N/A

Row 19 (20/0.2)

N/A

Row 20 (20/0.1)

N/A

Conclusion: I had a post-examination talk with the Girls, the intention being to establish how their experience was like. Buttercup and Bubbles reported that they were unsure if there was any zooming. 'Maybe', they had said in unison. Blossom, on the other hand, could confirm the zoom-in effect. She could even provide clear descriptions. By the time she had zoomed in on the chart to her furthest extent, it was like standing next to the eye chart. Assuming that her eyesight was beyond 20/20 in quality like her sisters, I believe her clear vision did the rest. It also took conscious effort, as Blossom also reported that she had to 'think harder to make it bigger'.

Further Investigation: This will be followed up immediately by an examination using the Retinal Camera. I will have to regularly give the Girls the eye test to track the development of their eyesight, and in Bubbles' case, if there will eventually be any regression to her eyesight.

Retinal Camera Optometry Eye Examination

Desc: Owing to the mysterious nature of Blossom's ability to 'zoom in' her eyes like binoculars, I have decided to examine their eyes more closely with a Retinal Camera, which will allow me to investigate the structure of their eyes closely in a way that even the MRI machine had failed to provide.

Conclusion: Viewing through the lens of the machine myself, the only exceptional change in the Girls' ocular anatomy is a higher density of photo-receptors in the Girls' retina, which would no doubt lend a higher visual resolution to their vision. This alone, however, wouldn't even begin to explain the 'zoom-in' effect, but it does begin to explain why the Girls have such good vision. I will need to examine them more to understand their vision better.

In examining Blossom's eyes, I noticed some strange phenomenon. When I gave her a distant object to look at, the luminescence of her eye increased, not by much but it was a perceptible increase. I then noticed a kind of displacement vortex in front of her pupils, followed by some kind of 'hyper-constriction' of the pupils, which visibly decreased the 'size' of the pupils.

The displacement vortex had affected the retinal camera's own zoom functions, reversing it. Based on these observations, I believe all of these phenomenon are related to Blossom's ability to 'zoom in' on things with her eyes in like a camera.

The displacement vortex might have acted as an assembly of lenses of some sort, a sort of extension to her eyes. This is processed by her hyper-constricted eyes. It is reasonable to assume that all of this has something to do with Chemical X, due to the reaction of her pink, glowing irises during the examination, which itself is a product of Chemical X.

It is unknown if this ability of Blossom is unique to her, or if Bubbles and Buttercup will eventually develop these abilities. I will have to let time and their natural development to do their work. It wouldn't hurt to gently encourage them, too.

Further Investigation: I will have to bring in more tools to understand Blossom's 'zoom-in' function. I'm thinking I can replace the retinal camera on the Optometry machine with something more sensitive and with a broad spectrum of functions, such as infrared, UV imaging, to be able to analyse the vortex better.

X-Ray Vision Blinder Test

Desc: I take my Girls seriously, more so when I am able to confirm Blossom's claim of super-sensory abilities. As such, I have set up a quick experiment to test her claim that she is able to see through objects. As she believed that she is able to see through Blackwater and his security officers, I will have to set up multiple levels of opacity and blockage.

I will likely involve the other Girls as well to leave no stones unturned. I have to consider the possibility of universality of abilities between the Girls, due to the similarity of the Girls' results in previous tests.

Subjects Involved:

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin (As control. Unless she's been hiding the fact that she's been Chemical-X-Enhanced, she won't make it far into the experiment)

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Equipment Used:

- 21x Drawing Blocks with 5 Symbols Each

- 4x Translucent Barrier

- 4x Paper Barrier

- 4x Plastic Barrier

- 4x Steel Panel

- Myself and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin

- 3x 500 lbs Steel Weight

Operating Procedure:

- As before, Selicia and the Girls will take the test together.

- Pace will be set by the slowest performer.

- Drawing block to be mounted behind blocking objects, to be replaced each time a part of the test is concluded.

- Each test will involve a specific type of sight blocker. Each test will involve multiple parts, with each successive part presenting an increase in difficulty.

- First test to involve translucent barriers, with an additional blinder added after each presentation of the drawing block.

- Second test to be conducted with paper barriers.

- Third test to be conducted with plastic barriers.

- Fourth test to be conducted with Steel panels.

- Fifth test to be conducted with myself and Selicia.

- Sixth test to be conducted with steel weights.

Test Results:

Control (No Blinders)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: No mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): No mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): No mistakes.

Notes: As expected, no one gets anything wrong.

Translucent Barrier (Level 1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: No mistakes.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): No mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): No mistakes.

Notes: The translucency isn't strong enough to completely obscure the symbols. As expected, no one gets anything wrong.

Translucent Barrier (Level 2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: 3/5 correct.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): No mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): No mistakes.

Notes: The translucency here is enough to blur the images. Selicia, representing normal stock humanity, is able to extrapolate most of the symbols. The Girls were able to copy the symbols without a problem, even Buttercup and Bubbles. When asked if she could see through the translucent barriers, Blossom said that she didn't even need to. It is possible that the Girls' ocular resolution is good enough to make out the shapes.

Translucent Barrier (Level 3)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: 1/5 correct.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): No mistakes.

B-49 (Bubbles): 4/5 correct.

Notes: By this point, the shapes are almost completely blurred beyond recognition. Bubbles appear to have difficulty from here onwards, but not Blossom and Buttercup. Bubbles appear to be upset by this, mentioning that she is always placed last in everything. I'll have to remind her later of the times when she wasn't.

Translucent Barrier (Level 4)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: 0/5 correct.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): No mistakes. Delayed reaction.

B-49 (Bubbles): 2/5 correct.

Notes: The images are all but blurred out. Bubbles weren't able to make out most of the shapes. Blossom, when asked about her vision, said that she was able to see through the translucent barriers, and it wasn't as hard as 'zooming in'. While she was concentrating on the drawing block behind the barriers, I noticed that the glow in her eyes had grown in luminosity. Buttercup did not appear to have a problem either. She said the same thing as Blossom when asked, but her eyes lacked the same glow. Different physiological reactions from different Girls, perhaps?

Plastic Barrier (Level 1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: 0/5 correct.

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): 3/5 correct. Slowest to complete the test.

B-49 (Bubbles): 0/5 correct. Fastest to complete the test.

Notes: As expected, Sergeant Selicia Goodwin is not enhanced by Chemical X. Her participation in this experiment ends here. The Girls are a mystery however. Blossom had no difficulty seeing through the plastic barrier, while Bubbles could not, and became confused as to what she was supposed to do. Buttercup appears to have difficulty. Her eyes continued to show no sign of 'the glow'.

Plastic Barrier (Level 2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): 4/5 correct. Slowest to complete the test.

B-49 (Bubbles): 0/5 correct. Fastest to complete the test.

Notes: Bubbles' participation in this experiment ends here.

Plastic Barrier (Level 3)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): 2/5 correct. Slowest to complete the test.

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Buttercup's performance appears to be dropping. Blossom's eyes glowed each time she has to see through something. Buttercup's eyes did not glow brighter, still.

Plastic Barrier (Level 4)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): 4/5 correct. Slowest to complete the test.

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Buttercup's performance is shown to be inconsistent. Perhaps it is due to a lack of 'skill' in her use of the 'x-ray vision'? When asked if she has difficulty exerting herself, she said, however, that it was 'too easy'. She then asked if I'm proud of her. I said yes. Her eyes continued to lack the same kind of glow as Blossom's.

Steel Panel (Level 1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): 5/5 correct. Slowest to complete the test.

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: I think I know what's going on. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Buttercup peeking at Blossom's paper, when she thought that I wasn't looking.

Steel Panel (Level 2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): Voided

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: I caught Buttercup cheating. She admitted to have been cheating in the entire test, but swore that she hadn't cheated in the eye test. This explains the lack of the same physiological reactions as Blossom. I reprimanded her for the misdeed. She seemed incredibly upset. Must be the way I said it, or perhaps she hadn't learned her lesson. I will have to speak to her later. Her participation in this experiment ends here.

Steel Panel (Level 3)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom reports that it is getting harder each time to penetrate the steel panels each time a new one is added. The glow in her eyes is becoming more and more pronounced each time the difficulty level increases.

Steel Panel (Level 4)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: It is astounding that Blossom hasn't made any mistakes yet.

Myself (Level 1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom reports that it is easier to see through me. Material might play a part in the permeability of a barrier.

Myself and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin (Level 2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom was hesitant to report her experience. When prompted multiple times, she timidly states that she saw Selicia naked. Apparently, her sight had gone completely through me, but, either by mistake or lack of skill or just the way her eyes work, did not completely penetrated Selicia. She then asked why 'Mommy looks different from her'. Selicia excused herself from the lab. When I asked her about her experience further, she said that she had always needed to 'search through' the multiple layers of barriers to get to the drawing block.

500 lbs Steel Weight (Level 1)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: the 500 lbs Steel Weight is arranged in such a way by Buttercup such that it represents about 2 feet of steel material for Blossom to search through. Blossom reports that it takes a great deal more effort to see through it.

500 lbs Steel Weight (Level 2)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): No mistakes.

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom reports great difficulty in seeing through the steel weights, but manages to get all the symbols right. The glow in her eyes was very pronounced at this point. She was visibly sweating.

500 lbs Steel Weight (Level 3)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N/A

B-47 (Blossom): 4/5 correct

B-48 (Buttercup): N/A

B-49 (Bubbles): N/A

Notes: Blossom reports pain in her eyes, and immense difficulty in seeing through 3 steel weights. The experiment concludes.

Conclusion: From this experiment, it is established that Blossom is the only one of the Girls to be able to see through objects, in addition to 'zooming in' her eyes to great magnifications. Whether Buttercup and Bubbles will develop these abilities or not is an open question. Furthermore, I have been able to establish a few rules for Blossom's 'x-ray vision':

- The amount of material (thickness) in the way affects the amount of effort requires. The more the material, the harder it gets.

- The type of material affects the amount of effort required. This could be dependent on certain properties expected and unexpected. For the former, translucency is one of those. For the latter, density is a possibility. I am also considering radiation shielding as a possible barrier to her 'x-ray vision', but that is highly speculative, as I have not yet established the mechanism of Blossom's 'x-ray vision'.

- The glow in her irises is indicative of the amount of effort required.

Further Investigation: I will need a special camera with additional functions to understand how her eye works. In understanding the exact mechanism of her 'x-ray vision', I believe I will be able to understand the limitations of it better.

Hearing

Hearing Acuity Test

Desc: The Hearing Acuity Test is designed to determine the sensitivity of the Girls' hearing. Due to the fact that I have no soundproof room in The House, I will have to improvise by using the car, which functions surprisingly well as a soundproof room.

Subjects Involved:

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin (As control)

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Location Used:

The House. Garage. Family Car

Equipment Used:

- 1x Family Car

- 1x Headphone

- 1x Cassette Player

- 1x Cassette with Standard Hearing Test Audio Cues

- 4x Hearing Test Forms

Operating Procedure:

- Selicia and the Girls are to take turns going into the car with the headphone on, connected to a cassette player by wire that will be controlled from the outside.

- Audio cues will be played, and the test subject is to raise her hand and give a thumbs up if she hears it.

- The test subject will raise her hand and give a thumbs down if she could not hear it.

- Test results are to be recorded accordingly.

Test Result:

Due to the unremarkable nature of the test results, I will abridge it here and attach the forms to the report for the sake of completion and administration.

Bubbles, despite my concerns due to her genetic disposition towards hearing loss, has not suffered the effects of it and has good, even excellent hearing.

When it comes to super-human hearing, however, there is nothing exceptional. The Girls' hearing aren't anything beyond what a human being is capable of. The only upside is that they have excellent hearing, putting them among the best of us in that respect.

Buttercup, however, concerns me greatly. When tested even on the first audio cues, she seem to have a delayed reaction in reporting her perception of the audio cues. This happened intermittently throughout the test. There could be a problem with her hearing. When I asked her about it, however, she claimed to be daydreaming, forcing me to repeat the test with her.

It was only then that her test results, at least towards the front and middle of the test, had normalized. Towards the back of the test however, when the lower-decibel hard-to-hear sounds were played, she started having delayed reactions again, before giving the thumbs-down sign. This time, when I asked her if there were problems with the cassette player or something else, she simply claimed that she could not hear anything.

She had cheated and lied to me before, so now I am simply unsure of what to make of this. However, since there is no conceivable reason that she would cheat or lie to appear incompetent when it comes to hearing, I will just put it down to her being competitive as always, and unwilling to appear less able than her sisters.

[ Other tests involving the sense of touch, taste and smell has been excluded from this extract due to the lack of compelling evidence for enhancements. Full details can be found in the reports concerning those tests.]

Chapter Text

Chapter 34: Mojo

The City of Townsville. The Slums. A Foundation Safehouse.

11 DEC 1988. 1710.

"How long is he going to lie down there?" a man in T-shirt, jeans and stab vest questioned a woman in trench coat and trilby. "He's been there since yesterday morning. Seriously, how does it even hold it in? Haven't seen him tinkle in the can."

"That's because he's stopped drinking, genius," Naga, the woman in a trench coat, said. She turned to regard Jojo, who's been lying on his side, facing the wall of his room for the past 40 hours. Ever since he heard what Professor Utonium thought of him.

"It's useless to us this way," the man in the stab vest, who was the captain of his Foundation cell, remarked casually. "If he doesn't die of thirst, I'll kill it myself." He slapped the AK-47 hanging on his shoulder. He meant business. The Foundation could tolerate no weakness, not with what they faced.

"He'll come around," Naga promised. "I'll make sure he does."

The Naga knocked on the door frame of Jojo's missing door, wordlessly asking for permission to enter his room. Jojo had wordlessly told her that he didn't care if she did. Didn't so much as shift from his position. Using her lower right arm, Naga flipped a lighter and lit a cigarette she'd been holding with her upper left hand. She took a puff of the cancer stick and sat down on a rickety chair beside Jojo.

"You know, I used to be like you, when I first escaped," Naga tried to make conversation, though she had a trajectory in mind.

"We are nothing alike," Jojo mumbled, his voice cracked, nearly a whisper. Naga actually missed his usual manner of speech, which involved endless repetitions of synonyms and rephrasing.

"I meant in terms of purpose, Jojo," Naga corrected. "I used to wander the streets aimlessly, when I was forcibly ejected into the world, made a freak by the oh-so-noble Organization." She took another puff of her cigarette. It was easier now to talk about the past, though not by much. Those were tough times, when she was forced to do whatever it took to get by.

"You're right. I had a purpose, and now I have none," the mutated Chimpanzee lamented. "How did it go wrong? Would my father have accepted me more if I hadn't killed those three security officers near The House, his abode?"

The three security officers. Jojo had planned his infiltration of The House carefully. Everything had gone into motion unhindered, until a random element had upset it. Jojo and Naga was able to slip past them undetected after deactivating the trip wires and alarms they had set up on the streets, until one of them had turned his head to spit a glob of phlegm and saw them. The Chimpanzee wasn't even thinking when he leaped at one of the security officers. Naga dispatched the other two with a sword planted in the back and breaking the neck of the other. Hatred for the Organization must have blinded him with rage,and he'd strangled his target to death. When one of Naga's victim was still writhing with pain, unable to even squeal miserably because of her sword puncturing a lung, he ended it for the (barely) surviving officer.

"You heard the professor. You killed his 'friends', so-called 'innocent bystanders'. Knowing that idealistic do-gooder, he wouldn't have accepted you even if you'd just killed the scumbags who're directly responsible for your execution orders," Naga said. She glanced at the night stand beside Jojo's mattress. There were three cups left there, filled with water, some more than others. The heated air in the safehouse had drunk the water more than Jojo did. "I think it's clear that you've been deceived, Jojo. The Utonium isn't anyone special. He's one of them. You may not know it, but he carried out experiments over the course of eight years, mutated and mutilated hundreds of others. He's a hypocrite, and that makes him the worst of them all. Whatever good he did, the sapience he gave you - those were just excuses he needed, ways for him to pat himself on the back so he could do more harm in this world."

Despite everything that had happened, Jojo didn't like the way Naga had described the professor. His nostrils flared, and his gritted his fangs. Rising from his cot for the first time in forty hours, he pressed his face closer to Naga, who merely smirked at him. "And I suppose you are any better, morally superior to the Organization? Is it true that you killed, murdered, destroyed his family? Is it true that the Foundation deserves hatred and vilification?"

"I wasn't in the Foundation when it happened, but yes, it did. The Foundation took his family away," Naga admitted. In truth, she thought it to be a low blow when the Foundation killed Utonium's family to get to him, a waste of resources that, in the end, achieved nothing. But at the very least, the Foundation had good reasons for its activities."Things are better now. The Foundation has good reasons for existing."

"And what are those supposedly good, excellent, all-so-altruistic reasons?" Jojo questioned, still blowing hot air out of his nostrils and mouth, still angry. It felt as if the entire world had betrayed them, the Foundation included, by withholding information from him - but the Foundation alone was his only silver lining.

"The Organization for one, now the self-styled United States Defence Organization. They represent everything that is evil in this great country," Naga said. "But they are not alone. The United States is on the brink, its governments and leaders and merchants, the people in the position to do something, are all corrupted. You've seen it for yourself, Jojo. Unchecked human and animal experimentation, rampant crime and the corruption that allowed it. People suffering - the real good people. The Foundation will set things right." She put a hand on Jojo's cheek, and another on his shoulder. "You need a purpose, and the Foundation can give it to you. With your kind of mojo, there's no reason why you should not be one of those who will set things right, and rule the world as you see fit. Your fellow Chimpanzees in the USDO's old HQ will thank you for it, if they know how."

Jojo stared at Naga with irritation for her chaffing remark directed at his fellow Chimpanzees. But then Jojo grinned, as a train of thought had just exited the station of his mind, bearing a long and complex set of ideas, plans. More accurately, it was more of a web of thoughts, calculations, deliberations.

"You're forgetting my 'father', Naga," Jojo said, mentioning the professor with a kind of venom never heard of before. "The one I loved so dearly, who abandoned me for those other 'children', who rejected me for things I had to do, am forced to do in my darkest hours! Vengeance will be mine, revenge! And in the course, on the path to gaining my succulent fruit of retribution, I will destroy everything Professor Utonium represents and holds dear! The world he helped build! The Organization! This 'Project Powerpuff'! His ill-begotten children! His- His…"

But then Jojo sank back down from reveling in his epiphany, his eyes closed and his head bowed as if in prayer. He had wanted to say 'his life' by the end, but could he really take the life of his father? It took him time, clouded by anger and grief as he was, before he had decided. "And then, perhaps, father would understand, accept me, for loosed from the shackles that is the evil USDO or Organization and the world, and forced to endure the same desperation and lack of choice I suffered, he would realize that I was right." He opened his eyes once more. "So, my dear Naga, bringer of my enlightenment, my epiphany, my moment of realization… How can the Foundation aid me in my new purpose?"

"The Foundation is much more humble than the USDO in terms of resources, but we have our own ways of supplying our members," Naga said. "We are, for the most part, scattered into cells, but for a Chimpanzee of your mojo, Jojo, we do have our own labs and workshops-"

"What did you say?" Jojo interrupted his new friend.

"We are not as well off as the USDO, but-" Naga tried to explain again, but Jojo gestured for her to stop.

"No, no! I meant that last part, your last few phrases before I interrupted you!" Jojo explained himself much more clearly.

"I said that, 'for a Chimpanzee of your mojo, Jojo, we do have our own labs-" Naga repeated herself exactly, but was cut off again by her new colleague. For the first time, a scowl scrawled itself across her face.

"Yeees, yeeeees! it's perfect!" the enhanced Chimpanzee exclaimed, another moment of clarity.

"Okay, what'a perfect, Jojo?" Naga asked, still frowning, frustrated at the eccentricity of the Chimpanzee. However, she'd masked most of it, hoping to remain in the chimp's good books. After all, it was all part of the agenda.

"For years, I have lived under a name created under a deceptive, deceitful, fraudulent regime! It is a name ill-fitting for a Chimpanzee like me!" Jojo whooped, "From now on, the hobo formerly known as Jojo is no more! From now on, I shall be known as Mojo Jojo!"

Naga's smile returned upon hearing that. Yes, the Chimpanzee was right. It was perfect; the now self-named Mojo Jojo had internalized what she wanted of him, took on the wishes of the Foundation after she had gently steered him in that direction.

The USDO will fall. They would make sure of it. In making themselves publicly known, they had also put themselves out in the open, vulnerable like hunting game to be gunned down. And their meat would fuel the growth of the Foundation, until the entire United States, then the world, fall under their enlightened rule.

Chapter Text

Chapter 35: Mayor Wilford (Part 1)

The City of Townsville. Central District. City Hall.

11 DEC 1988. 1728.

"This is so cool!" Buttercup exclaimed time and again throughout the short ride, as she watched the scenery outside zooming by as if they were on a rocket.

The ride to City Hall did not take long, partly because Agent Blake had decided to 'drill' the Girls' speed transport convoy, to show them exactly what their rides and drivers were capable of. Agent Blake had even ordered the convoy to turn on their sirens and the red-and-blue lightbar on the roof of the sports cars, ensuring that there were fewer vehicles slowing them down. Buttercup would have been jumping excitedly on the backseat had she not been tied down by her seat belt - her siblings were quite taken by it as well, though they saw it more as an amusement park ride than an appreciation for a speed demon of a car. Professor Utonium, with his nervous tics, frantically looking forward and outside the windows and shifting on his seat, was the exact opposite of that, though he wasn't afraid for himself.

Thankfully for the professor, It didn't last very long. At the City Hall area, the three-car convoy joined a pack of its own; humvees with heavy machineguns manned and mounted on top were waiting for them, eternally vigilant for any possible signs of an all-out attack or assassination attempt. Police cruisers and SWAT vans surround the City Hall. Numerous police barriers were set up, and there was a cop or police SWAT officer every few yards. Teams of snipers line the roof of the City Hall, their watchful eyes forever scanning the surrounding pavements and buildings. The war zone they were in excited Buttercup further. The sight of all those guns and gruff men with the license to kill was her idea of a winter wonderland.

When the three Girls and their caretakers exited their Lamborghini, they were immediately surrounded by Powerpuff Task Force soldiers and USDO SWATs, some whom the Girls knew, like Agent Blake, most of whom were strangers. It had been peaceful inside their transport, and the moment they were out, they were surrounded by a cacophony of people speaking, cars grinding asphalt and sirens in the distance.

"Bravo-four-seven, four-eight and four-nine are secure, over," one of the PTF soldiers reported into the radio.

"Confirmed, not even a Meltdown-1, over," another of the PTF soldiers reported into his radio.

"Sir, snipers confirmed no Tangos so far," another of the PTF soldiers reported to Agent Blake. "Riot cops are pushing back civilians and journalists."

"No fly zone maintained, sir," yet another said to Agent Blake.

They were led into the City Hall, where they passed through a massive portal consisting of two giant doors flanked by USDO security officers. Inside, they entered the lobby area, where a mix of TPD and USDO officers guarded every door there was.

Liaison Head Bellum and one of Mayor Wilford's aides were talking in the centre, where numerous tables and seats were arrayed in strict rectangular patterns. As Professor Utonium, Selicia and the Girls approached them, the mayoral aide approached them first.

"Mister and Missus Utonium, I presume?" the aide said. "I'm afraid the two of you will have to wait here." He spoke something into a mic hidden in his tuxedo. Immediately, eight men in black suits entered from double doors on the opposite side of the City Hall entrance, half of them looking like they were wrestlers, while the other half weren't too shabby either. "The Mayor's bodyguards will take it from here."

"Wait, we're responsible for the Girls' security. At least a couple of us should follow them up," Agent Blake said.

"No. You're in his town, buddy. His rules, or you don't stay here for long," the head of the Mayor's bodyguard replied, and firmly. He was a tall, square-jawed and tough looking man who looked like he was a secret service agent, what with his shades, earphone and black suit.

Professor Utonium got down beside the three Girls and they crowded around him. He looked them in the eyes. It felt like that moment when he's sending Bloome to kindergarten for the first time. He couldn't see their faces well, what with their helmets and goggles in the way, which cast shadows on their faces. The slight glow of their irises were a little more obvious then, a little reminder that they were special, meant for this.

"Girls, the three of you will have to go up there alone," the professor said to them, trying not to look worried. Extreme as the USDO was, they were largely incorruptible, and wouldn't deal with a figurehead with a black spot on his portfolio - which meant that this 'Mayor Wilford had to be trustworthy. At least, that was what's on paper. "You're about to meet a new friend. He'll be nice to you, so be real friendly to him, okay?"

"But I can't go on without you," Bubbles blurted, her wide eyes and tight grip on the professor conveying everything in her mind. "What if- what if- Dad, I'm scared!"

"Don't be, Bubbles, you're stronger than you know," Professor Utonium encouraged, then turned to Blossom, who was clearly marked by the bow she had attached to her helmet, if the color of her SWAT gear didn't give her away. "Blossom dear, take care of your sisters for me, okay?"

"Will do, Daddy," Blossom promised, a smile on her face, though deep inside, she, too, was nervous and afraid.

"Pfff! I don't need her to take care of me!" Buttercup declared. "I think I'll have to take care of them instead."

"Attagirl, Buttercup," Selicia praised the toughest among them. "That's my strong little girl." She and Buttercup smiled at each other as the woman stroked her helmet, since it was in the way of her hair.

"Hahaha, alright. Take care of each other now," the professor said. "Especially Bubbles."

Bubbles wasn't glad to hear it. Despite being only three weeks old, she knew what it meant when the professor said it. She was the weak one. The dimmest one. She was the baby of the three, unlike Blossom, who Daddy would often praise for being the smartest, and Buttercup, who Mommy would praise for being the toughest. Her, on the other hand, was nothing. Her eyes were staring at the blank tiles of the City Hall floor, herself just as vacant inside. But no one noticed because of her helmet and goggles.

When it was time, the professor gently pushed them in the direction of the mayoral bodyguard. Bubbles immediately latched onto Blossom with both arms on the red girl's right. Buttercup walked on her own. They were brought to the double doors leading deeper into the City Hall building, but at the door, the police officers there stopped them.

"You're going to have to hand over your weapons, lassies," one of the police officers said.

"What weapons?" Blossom asked.

"Erm- Those pistols in your holsters? On your vest?" the police officer spelt it out condescendingly. "Do you know what pistols are? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"He meant this, Blossom!" Buttercup said in frustration at her 'smart' sister, unbuttoning her holster with difficulty and pulling out the compact pistol from it.

"Hey, watch it!" the police officer yelled. Buttercup had accidentally pointed the pistol at him. Buttercup stared at him in confusion.

"What?" she asked, entirely ignorant of gun safety rules.

"Don't point that thing at me, you dolt! Don't you know that guns are dangerous?" the police officer scolded.

"Oh, fine. Here you go, mister policeman," Buttercup handed her pistol to the police officer, still pointing the dangerous weapon at him. The police officer snatched it quickly, muttering something else under his breath, which Buttercup could hear with clarity. He'd called her a dolt again, though she didn't know what it meant. She could only infer that it wasn't something good. She'd have to ask the professor what it meant later.

Blossom and Bubbles did the same thing, but with wiser deftness, shifting their guns by holding them by the barrels instead.

"And that, missy, is how you do it. You should be more like your reddish girl friend, greeny," the police officer added after collecting their weapons. Buttercup glared at Blossom from the corner of her eyes, feeling coal burning behind them. She'd never liked the idea of being second best, or that she had to be like Blossom, ever since she'd let her sisters dictate her appearance and behavior. Mommy had set her free, let her be herself, and encouraged her to do so - but she was only one person, as much as she loved her.

The Girls walked through the door, but not without getting sniped by the police officers as they continued.

"Can't believe the Mayor's agreeing with this kiddy nonsense," the head police officer said.

"Yeah, I know right? Townsville's going to the nuthouse if it isn't there already," another unseen police officer said.

The Girls' were as far from deaf as girls could be. They'd heard it, turned around and stared at the doors in dismay. The professor was right about people hating them for no reason, at least that was from their perspective. To the policemen, who were handpicked by the Mayor as the most dedicated, most loyal, it was like a slap in the face that Mayor Wilford had turned to what appeared to be a joke of a solution, from what they saw as the fraudster of federal agencies. Some were even afraid that his mind had finally succumbed to time and old age, and the Girls were the result of it.

"This way, kiddos. Don't keep the Mayor waiting," one of the bodyguards said; a black man with an iceberg of a face, as gorilla-like in stature as half his peers.

The mayoral bodyguards led the Girls to a lift that would take them up to the top floor. Oddly enough, there were three luggage, about the size of the Girls themselves, sitting beside the lift. One of the bodyguards, this time a man in his forties, judging from the crow's feet and wrinkles that were carved on his face, went up next to it.

"The mayor's an old man, kids," the forties guy said. "He wants the three of you to carry these up to him."

"Why can't you carry it up to him?" Buttercup asked. "There's eight of you, and you're all ten times as big as us!"

The forty-something looked at his fellow shades-wearing partner. The huge black man.

"He wants the three of you to carry them up for him," the black bodyguard insisted. "But… I guess he will understand if the three of you ain't got the strength for it-"

"What do you mean I 'ain't got the strength for it'?" Buttercup said, indignant because of the mayoral bodyguard's challenge. She immediately went over to one of the luggage and picked it up by the handles, holding it over her head. "Hah, too easy!"

The guards stared at her as if she had just grown a second head. Only, she didn't know that they were wide-eyed in surprise, or awe, or were at least fascinated by her display of strength. Blossom and Bubbles both did the same as Buttercup, which only added to everything they had discovered about the Girls.

The luggage had been filled with pieces of solid steel beams meant for constructing the skeleton of buildings. Even the bodyguards had trouble putting those luggage in place, even when two of them were assigned to each. The men did not understand why the mystery steel packages were there until the Girls took them up and swung them over their heads with ease. It had all been a test, a little insurance the Mayor had personally ordered to make sure the Girls were as strong as the USDO claimed.

"Buttercup, it wouldn't hurt you to help an old man, you know," Blossom chided her ravenette sister.

"Daddy said that old men are really tired and weak because they've been around forever…" Bubbles added.

Four of the guards followed the Girls into the lift and brought them to the top floor. They snuck peeks at the three Girls, wondering if they would ever get tired. "Don't drop the luggage, kids. Whatever's inside those luggage are fragile. Just keep holding them over your heads. Good."

The numbers on the elevator buttons took turns to shine as they climbed higher. Second floor. Third floor. Fourth floor. Then the fifth. The lift door opened, showing a corridor.

"This way, Supergirls," the black bodyguard continued to lead them. They went down the corridor, to its centre, then went through a mighty pair of oak doors, into a huge room built into the dome of the City Hall. The brain of the city, built for the one man who would lead it: the Mayor, and for much of Townsville's notable history, it was occupied by one man. Mayor Wilford. Even in his prime, he was rather short, standing only at little more than 5 feet 5, and now he'd shrunken – but Townsville didn't need a strong body. It was his vision, his ideas, character and morality that shaped it… At least until a decade ago, when other men, younger men, began chipping away at the marble statue that was the city he built.

Mayor Wilford sat behind a great redwood desk, giving him far more surface area than he'd normally use, on a leather high-backed boss chair that outsized him, giving the Girls, who were far away, the illusion that he was about their size.

He stood up to greet them, doing so feebly.

"Why hello Girls, it's nice to finally meet the three of you," he said, his voice still strong, despite his age and size. Decades upon decades of speeches had done its work. "Oh you poor girls, do set those luggage down next to my desk. I'm sorry I had to ask the three of you to drag them up from the ground floor."

'So, those videos weren't doctored,' Mayor Wilford thought even as he smiled at the Girls.

"No problem, mister… um…" Blossom said as the Girls came up to his desk, stopping when she realized that she did not know his name.

"I'm Mayor Wilford. You can call me Mister Mayor if you're so inclined, but my name will do for the three of you," he said as the Girls set down his hundreds of pounds of steel.

"It's nice to meet you, Mayor Wilford," Bubbles said, smiling at him.

"Yeah…" Buttercup added, with a tone of boredom, her voice extra abrasive.

"And… What are your names?" the Mayor took his turn to ask.

"I'm Blossom," the red-haired girl in dark red SWAT gear said.

"I'm Bubbles," the blonde girl in dark blue SWAT gear introduced herself.

"And I'm Buttercup, toughest of the three!" the ravenette in dark green SWAT gear added explosively.

"Well met, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup" Mayor Wilford acknowledged, admiring the Girls, who were already dressed to combat crime. He wasn't ignorant, of course, of what the USDO was trying to do. He knew that they were trying to create an impression of combat readiness. He knew better, he who had heard a million lies and half-truths, some of which he himself had to manufacture to some ends. He wanted to know more about the Girls, what was underneath all that Kevlar. He stepped around his desk, a feat that took him time. Buttercup gave a sigh. Blossom glared at her green-eyed sister. "Let's not stand on ceremony, shall we. Come on, let's sit by the warm fireplace while we talk."

"Here, Mayor Wilford, let me help you," Blossom offered, taking the Mayor by an arm.

"I'll help you too," Bubbles said as she giggled, taking his other arm.

"Oh brother…" Buttercup remarked. In her mind, she saw no reason to help; the Mayor was doing fine on his own, and it wasn't like it would do anything for her – get her on the first line in front of Daddy over her siblings, say.

The Mayor gently touched down on a tall, red and well-cushioned single seater. He waved kindly at a sofa perpendicular to his chair, and the Girls climbed onto it. "Are the three of you comfortable?" he asked with a smile only partially obscured by his white moustache.

"Very much so, Mister Mayor."

Bubbles nodded with a toothy smile.

"Humph," Buttercup grunted.

"Good. You know, I would like to take a good look at the three little girls who're going to fight crime in my city," the Mayor said as he adjusted his monocle. Seeing that there was a smudge on the lens, he took it off and wiped it with a fine silk cloth.

"What do you mean? We're right here!" Buttercup said in frustration. The whole affair felt boring next to the rollercoaster ride she'd had with Agent Blake and his fast car.

"I meant your helmets and facial doohickeys, Girls. I can't see your face," the Mayor explained patiently, very much aware that Buttercup wouldn't be the most well-liked of the three, even with him. But then again, these were children in his eyes, and he knew that some needed time to improve their character more than others.

The Girls undid the buckles on their chin strap and pulled off their helmets, then their goggles. Bubbles combed her hair quickly with her fingers, hoping that she'd at least look half-decent. Blossom's hair fell naturally in place. Buttercup's didn't need much work.

"Now that's more like it. My, what sweet little angels you are!" the Mayor said, meaning it several ways at once. The deepest part of him thought them to be beautiful children who should belong in a high-middle class home and at parties, like in Christmas. The other part of him didn't expect much considering their origin, considering their purpose. The political animal in him could think of numerous ways to take advantage of the fact. Just like the fact that they were having a nice conversation right now, building what he hoped would be a highly beneficial relationship. "I could sure use some hot chocolate right about now. Do you Girls want some hot chocolate?"

"Now that's more like it!" Buttercup said with a greedy smile.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh!" Bubbles said while nodding her head.

"Yes, Mister Mayor. It's very nice of you to offer," Blossom said, with the professor's voice in her head, reminding her of all the manners he'd taught her.

The Mayor waved a somewhat bony hand. An aide, who had somehow managed to remain invisible in the background, came over. "Four cups of hot chocolate, Alfred. Make 'em all adult-sized, it matters not," the Mayor ordered. The aide made to leave, but then the Mayor gently took him by the sleeve. "Oh and Alfred, make it four cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows. Extra marshmallows."

The Girls were thrilled, their smiles as extra wide as the amount of extra ingredients to be added. Even Buttercup had forgotten her bad attitude. The professor hadn't been wrong, they each thought – the Mayor was a friend. To the Mayor, though, even cups of hot chocolate had multiple facets to them. The physical, as a simple gift, then again, it was something of a social contract. 'I'm good to you and so you're supposed to be good to me'. At the worst, it could be a bribe, and with children, the value of a cup of hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows) was multiplied a thousand fold. The Mayor, however, hoped that it would just be a gift, and their relationship, a simple friendship between an old Knight of Townsville and three young heroines.

The Girls eyes kept shifting towards the jar of cookies that the Mayor had planted on an end table next to him. They'd finally spotted it, now that he had brought up matters of gastronomy. He took it and opened the sealed jar with difficulty. "Cookies?"

"Yes, please!" Buttercup was almost begging.

"Yes, please," Blossom said with dignity.

"You're so sweet, Mayor Wilford," Bubbles said. They each reached into the jar, taking one giant chocolate chip cookie each. Buttercup had two.

The Mayor watched them eat contentedly, enjoying his cookies. This was good. Really good. Everything was falling in place. For the good of the city.

"Now, let's talk for a bit, Girls…" the Mayor opened up. The Girls looked up at him, beaming with expectations. Crumbs were falling off of Buttercup's lips and cheeks while Blossom and Bubbles we're less messy.

"Yeah, what about?" Buttercup asked. 'At least she's in a good mood and willing to talk now,' the Mayor thought. Dislike her a little though he might, he still think that Buttercup had her own strengths, and it wasn't just the strength of her arms that he needed to strong-arm the criminals of his city into civil obedience. She was direct, and hid nothing. A good politician could use someone like that.

"Why, about your dedication to protect the city, of course," the Mayor said, putting on the most innocent smile he could. "I've heard lots about the three of you even before we've met, and I just can't help but to wonder. Why fight crime, younglings? Why not stay home with your Daddy and play with your dolls?"

"Yuck! I don't play with dolls!" Buttercup spat with disgust, remembering that she used to pretend she loved it, just so that she could get closer to Daddy. It didn't quite work out, and she loathed the idea of being like Bubbles.

"Or whatever it is you play with, Buttercup," the Mayor added with a laugh. Yes, there's always a use for those who deemed themselves tough.

"Mister Mayor, I once saw people get hurt, and, and…" Blossom thought hard. Was that the only time when she wanted to act? No. There were other times when she wanted to take control. "I want to be able to do things to help. Sometimes my friends were in trouble, and I stood by and did nothing." She remembered when Agent Blake and his men were being taken away, when she didn't know if she'd see them again.

"I don't know, I'm here because my sisters are," Bubbles added, unsure of herself. She searched the floor for answers, but another came up on its own. "I want everyone around me to be happy, I guess."

"And it'd be fun! All the punching and kicking and explosions!" Buttercup added. She swung her fists left and right, producing audible whipping sounds, the way her Mommy had taught her.

"Is there more to it than that?" There's got to be, aren't there?" Mayor Wilford said. "I mean, there's no doubt that helping others and putting a smile on their faces, even if for fun, is great, but, don't the three of you want anything else for yourselves?"

The Mayor had thought hard when it came to that question. The Girls seemed pure, incorruptible, with the possible exception of Buttercup, making them good candidates as law enforcers, their apparent age and naivete notwithstanding, but he had to make sure.

"I guess there is one thing. When Daddy spoke about the city," Blossom was first to speak as the others were unsure of what to say. "He said that people would hate us, sometimes for no reason."

"Like that scary policeman below," Bubbles added, her voice extra high-pitched, making it clear that she was distressed at the thought.

"Mister Mayor, I want to them to stop hating us. I want to be loved," Blossom said, finally. Buttercup, in her corner, rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. Daddy's love was enough for her, and Mommy was already a bonus. The rest of them were either recipients of her knuckle sandwich, or pretext for her to dish out knuckle sandwiches.

"Love is nice," Bubbles supported her sister.

"Hummph…" Buttercup grunted in faint agreement just so she wouldn't be left out.

"Well, that may be hard, I'm afraid," Mayor Wilford said, and this time, he meant it. He closed his one good monocled eye and clasped his hands. It took a hardcore politician like him to win the favor of a city filled with the hopeless and the hardened. Three little girls wouldn't fare well in such circumstances. "The city's been hurting for a long, long time, lassies. And people who are hurt, who are hungry and desperate, they don't love as easily."

"What do you mean, Mister Mayor?" Blossom asked. She thought she understood him, but she was lost halfway.

"When someone's been hated for a long time, he will hate in turn, spread that hate, Miss Blossom," Mayor Wilford tried his best to explain, his one good eye stuck on Blossom's two. He then turned his single peering eye to Bubbles. "You've seen how my trusted police officer was. Please don't blame him for it - he'd seen many things… Terrible things, and when that happens, people, well, they get grumpy, really grumpy. They'd forgotten how to be nice, how to love."

"That's sad…" Bubbles said, her eyes still on the floor, a tear dripping from an eye. In her mind, it was impossible to live without love, or being nice, not in the kind of house she lived in. Mayor Wilford looked at her, and it broke his heart to see such a sight, a five-year-old girl (even less, considering what the USDO reps told him) destroyed by the state of things.

"But… What can we do to make them nice again? So that they'd love us?" Blossom asked.

"Break the cycle of hate," Mayor Wilford said, confidently. He wouldn't be a good mayor if he couldn't say that one thing right. After all, he'd been hard on crime, combating the evil elements of his embattled city for two decades now, even more so if he was counting his first streak of mayoral responsibilities and before that, as a more ordinary civil servant. "Do what's right. Fight crime as you so desire. Do it well, and the people will learn to love again, and they will love you."

"And have fun in the process, I guess," Mayor Wilford said to Buttercup. No, in the end, he couldn't bring himself to dislike Buttercup, no matter how she looked like. Even at her current stage, she didn't seem all bad. At least she hadn't turned to crime to sate her desire for 'fun', and with her kind of abilities, she could have easily done so. He reminded himself that he would have to thank the parents of these three special girls for having raised them right. "Now… Now that the three of you have told me why you want to fight crime, I think it'd be fair for me to tell you why I do it. And I have just the thing that I thought would be fun. Tell me, do you Girls like to fly?"

It brought to mind the flying ponies of television. The three Girls had all watched that, and they couldn't wait to be riding pegasi of their own. At least, they thought the Mayor had his own stable of flying horses with angel wings. Then the hot chocolate came. "Well, I guess flying would have to wait."

But they just couldn't wait. Though the hot chocolate were steaming at close to boiling point, the Girls had drained their cups fast, at first hurting themselves over the hot chocolate, but eventually developing a kind of resistance to hot liquid.

The Mayor tried to distract them by talking about other things. The Girls' own family life, their parents, what they do for fun. He thought he'd succeeded a little, but they were always sipping impatiently at their chocolate, and he didn't gather as much about the Girls as he had hoped.

They were halfway through when the Mayor put down his mostly-full cup of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. He was more worried about how the Girls weren't enjoying their hot chocolate, seeing it as a means to an end, than himself. "It's time to fly. Come on, Girls."

Chapter Text

Chapter 36: Mayor Wilford (Part 2)

The City of Townsville. Central District. City Hall.

11 DEC 1988. 1754.

With the help of two aides, Mayor Wilford climbed aboard his dirigible. He was wearing a thick coat to shield him from the city cold that gnawed at him. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup jumped in with ease. The Mayor gave his staff on the roof a thumbs-up sign, and so they let loose the rope that was anchoring the dirigible to the roof.

The airship was a simple contraption, meant to hold no more than a few people in a basket. It rose slowly up into the air, with the Girls whooping with joy at ascending to heights they had never been before. Below, the snipers of the TPD were extra vigilant; the Mayor was taking a big risk this way, exposing himself in the middle of the day, in the middle of the open air. And he was alone up there with three 'operatives' of the USDO. Some snipers had already shifted their targets to put Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup in their sights.

Soon, they were at the equivalent of ten storey in the air, then fifteen, twenty and finally twenty-five, when the weight of the rope and cargo was equal to the lift the flying machine was able to put out. The Girls looked around them in wonderment, at the city that had, until recently, towered over them. Now, it seemed as if the opposite was true.

"Isn't Townsville beautiful?" Mayor Wilford said with admiration at his own city.

"Yes, Mister Mayor, it is! I like it! It's so… So…" Blossom agreed, and she wasn't just being nice. It truly was beautiful. The Central District was filled with tall buildings, and surrounding the Central District was the Business District, which contributed numerous skyscrapers to the skyline.

"Breathtaking?" the Mayor filled in the blanks for Blossom.

"Yeah! Breathtaking!" Blossom repeated the new word the Mayor had given her. It was a good word, one that she'd remember like the other odd 1,200 something words she had filed in her mind.

"I wish I can spread my arms and fly…" Bubbles said once more.

"Wish hard enough, and maybe you can," the Mayor said, not wanting to destroy the hopes of a (very) young child.

Even Buttercup was speechless at the sight, even if she felt its effect less.

"You see these sleek, tall buildings all around you? They weren't always there," the Mayor said as he pointed his cane at the skyline, drawing a line across it, a little more contemplative now. "That over there is the business district. You see all that glass, Girls?"

"It looks like I can swim in it…" Blossom said in wonderment. The skyscrapers were amazing. She had never seen that many windows before, and it was like a cascading waterfall to her, just like in those fairy tale books. But she had never seen a waterfall before.

"That was where Townsville got rich. I saw tall skyscrapers rise out of the ground like beanstalks one after the other, from the sixties and even to this day," the Mayor said, with one or two embellishments thrown in. He knew who he was dealing with. It wouldn't hurt to capture their attention with some hyperbole.

"Did those skyscrappies really rise from the ground? Like beanstalks?" Bubbles asked naively.

"Well, in a way, yeah. Except we planted money there to make them grow," the Mayor continued to joke with them. Only, the Girls weren't able to tell jokes from facts. Wilford then pointed his cane elsewhere. "And that over there is the Tenement Area. Some of the few public housing projects in America to work. I remember ordering it in the fifties, I think, for the poor, and for twenty years, they built those apartments for those who couldn't afford a roof over their heads. I remember that place to be peaceful, thanks to those hippies in the seventies. Now… It's filled with no-good bad guys, as you would call it."

"It looks… Sad," Bubbles described, her vocabulary beginning to show its limits. But her description was apt. The apartments there were stunted creatures, dark and dirty and looking like a horde of hobgoblins getting together to jab spears into their taller, cleaner neighbors. Smoke rose from numerous apartments and alleys there, a sign of desperation in an age of heaters.

"What happened to it?" Blossom asked.

"People get desperate when they're poor, and there are people who took advantage of that," the Mayor explained. He then pointed his cane at an even more dismal area near the tenement areas. The slums, which was a part of the tenement area that had fallen into disarray, with crumbling buildings and houses, makeshift homes and tents. "And it gets worst there. People here call it The Slums, or The Hole, or The Gangrene Gulag. None but the most heroic of my men would ever visit that place."

"Why not just bulldoze it?" Buttercup suggested. The sight of urban blight there had irked even her, and her tolerance level for all things dirty was higher than the other GIrls.

"Darling, it's not that simple. It never is," the Mayor said, with a hint of sadness in his voice. "No matter how it looks, it's still home to some of the most needy and destitute. If I clear it, those people will have no place to go. In a winter like this, they'd die out there. No other cities will accept them, and the bad seeds among them will crowd the other parts of Townsville."

"Really? Who would want to live in that dump?" Buttercup said unsympathetically. "I'd rather live in a dumpster."

"The dumpsters are full," the Mayor said cryptically. Buttercup thought he meant it literally, and she pictured dumpsters with doors and windows in them, with men coming in and out of them, though there was very little space inside. Maybe he did, or maybe he meant something in between - Buttercup's imagination had hit a roadblock.

The Mayor then took the time to show them the other parts of the City of Townsville, even if he was starting to get really cold. The Downtown area, Uptown. Little Tokyo, when he remarked that he'd seen the roots of it grow like a sapling when he was a mere boy, starting with just a few hundred Japanese settlers in the 1900s and 1910s before ballooning into the endless thousands that made up that area. Those districts were a little more upbeat than the Tenements and Slums.

"I've been in Townsville for a very long time. I was born here, near the turn of this century, and I was raised here. I've seen Townsville when it didn't even have a million citizens, and now there's six million of us."

"Is that a lot?" Bubbles asked, having never heard of numbers amounting to millions before.

"Yes, lots and lots and lots…" the Mayor said. "I've seen these buildings rise myself. I've cut the red ribbon countless times. See, I helped build this town, until it's not quite a town anymore."

"You must really love this city, Mister Mayor," Blossom said as she continued gazing at Townsville's skyline.

"Yes, I do. And there are evil men and women who are ruining it, trying to destroy everything and everyone in it," the Mayor said, his one monocled eye staring intently into the distance, as if searching the city for its criminals, for Intruders. "My city's been hurting and bleeding for a long time, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup." He then turned to them, one sad little eyes peering out of its glass. "Will you help me save it?"

"I'd want to. Very much, Mister Mayor," Blossom agreed. The look on his face, that old, worn out face, had told her that he needed her, just like how he needed her to walk him across his room, no matter how independent he wanted to appear. "If there are people who need our help, then we should help them. I don't want anyone else to get hurt…"

"As long as I get to punch and kick something," Buttercup said.

"As much as I hate to admit it, there will always be people who need a few punches and kicks to set them straight," the Mayor said, in a rare moment of casualness. In the meantime, he was studying the Girls' faces very carefully. He pride himself for being a very good judge of character, and he could always tell (well, most of the time anyway), whenever someone had something to hide or if they were lying.

"What if we try giving everyone a bunny to hug, everyone would be happy," Bubbles followed along.

"Haha, you try that, Bubbles," the Mayor said patronizingly. "You might swing some of them to your side, who knows?"

Mayor Wilford liked what he had heard. It wasn't all just a mere conversation to him. He had been testing them throughout their short time together. Thus far, no one had seen much value in the Girls, not even the USDO who created them. He could tell from the way they spoke about them. His very own top dogs in the Townsville Police Department were no better; it was all a joke to them, these Girls. It was a miracle that Police Commissioner Davis had given the USDO the clearance to deploy the Girls at all. Perhaps he thought that a catastrophic USDO failure would mean that he didn't have to share his job with a federal agency that seemed determined to sink its roots in Townsville.

No, he believed in the Girls. They were clearly the real deal when it came to their lab-gained abilities, but what was most important was the fact that they were pure of heart. Even Buttercup could be described as that - she wasn't in it for the money, or the glory, or the sweet sex, or for some God-forsaken ambition in a bid to win some upcoming election or promotion. She was in it for the fun, however misplaced though it may be. They seemed incorruptible, like angels of justice that had come down from the heavens to dispense the law and order so desperately needed.

They even looked the part when the clouds, for a brief moment, parted to shine a ray of hope on them.

Mayor Wilford was going to make sure the Girls get to do their bit even if it killed him.

"At least, today, Townsville looks peaceful," the Mayor said. He was an old man, but he had beaten the superstition out of himself with decades of self-determination and down-to-Earth municipal politics and management. But this was the one time he thought he should let himself believe. "I think it's a good omen. The three of you will save the day, and the city will love you for it."

But he'd spoken too soon. In the distance, at one of the nearer residential districts, there was a bomb explosion, followed by the sound of police sirens. The Mayor gave a sigh. So much for a good omen. Even the Girls noticed the bad timing, and they hung their head in sadness.

"We'll help you, Mister Mayor," Blossom declared once more. She could imagine people on fire, people hurt, people shooting each other, when the bomb exploded. And she didn't like the idea one bit. Her photographic memory had captured every single pixel of that moment, when she saw the burning men at the gas station, their faces. She wasn't sure if she'd zoomed in on the scene; she was a couple weeks too young to notice back then.

"I hope your policemen have puppies for the poor people in pain…" Bubbles commented after that.

"If only we were there!" Buttercup then said.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House

11 DEC 1988. 2012.

Professor Utonium stood on the balcony facing his backyard, his signature black smoking pipe in his hand. He nursed the pipe and released a puff of smoke.

Changes were happening, good and bad. After the Girls had come down from the Mayor's personal office, he was able to speak to the most important person in Townsville. Mayor Wilford. And they'd talked. Touched on things he might have thought of, that he was deathly worried about, and he'd touched on things he'd never thought about.

He was a good politician, good with words, good with his image. When he expressed his fears that the Girls would be in peril in a city like Townsville, he'd launched into a speech about the virtues of his trusted police officers, the citizens of Townsville and how even the Mob, the worst of the worst, had a certain honor code. He'd covered, in great length, how his cops would have the Girls' back and how they fully, whole-heartedly supported the Girls' entrance into the local law enforcement scene. Of course, Professor Utonium wasn't entirely convinced. He was no politician, but the Organization had its fair share of politicians. Agent Cliff, the current director, was a prime example, though what Mayor Wilford did with words, Cliff did with actions. It remained to be seen if the Mayor of Townsville was both.

Less shady things were brought up too. The Girls' education, for one thing. Although the Mayor was still partial to the Girls' involvement in law enforcement despite their illiteracy, he advocated enrolling the Girls into the Townsville education system. It was one of the few things they could agree on, though the professor had mostly kept his opinions to himself. Back at home, he'd already talked it over with Selicia, who was just as adamant as the Mayor about sending the Girls to school, and he'd already made the necessary phone call to Wiggums, who promised to expedite this with the help of Alice and… Blackwater, of all people. Within half an hour, the weedy Chief of Logistics promised on a return call that the principal of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten was 'willing' to accept the girls despite the fact that the year was about to end. Arrangements would be made the next morning with one Ms. Keane, so that the Girls would be able to go to school immediately the next day.

However, Blackwater had conditions. He always had conditions. With the Mayor of Townsville's go-ahead for the deployment of the Girls, law enforcement operations took precedence over the Girls' education, and they would be accompanied by their speed transport convoy in the event of a scramble. Originally, Blackwater wanted the Girls permanently suited up in SWAT gear and escorted by guards, but the professor had rang the Chief of Security on the line and argued vehemently – for close to half an hour – against that, and when that didn't work (as usual), he spoke in Blackwater's language. The man of science brought up matters of morale, and that the lack of it will worsen the Girls' performance in combat, as well as their concentration on actually becoming literate, which would be undoubtedly useful to soldiers who need to understand and interpret orders in the first place.

In the end, Blackwater had compromised by having all the Girls' gear stored in their Lamborghini speed transport, though it meant changing in the vehicle while while it was speeding towards its target. Security would be provided from a distance by Sergeant Blake (who had been demoted by Blackwater for what he saw as poor leadership) and his Powerpuff Task Force soldiers in the transports and accompanying security detail, commanded by a new lieutenant.

The professor took another puff from his pipe. Jojo came to mind. Had he been too hard on the chimpanzee? Could someone good be pushed to commit a massacre? No, he decided. Killing 42 people would have required too much premeditation for someone good. Desperation was only good for a single cry-of-help kind of deed, and Jojo was incredibly intelligent for someone of his origins that the professor had thought of him as a person shortly after his exposure to Chemical X. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, his three good angels, would not have done such a thing, no matter what happens to them.

But the incident with Jojo's visit had raised questions. The USDO had been doing things behind his back. As much as he hated it, it was standard fare for the organization to do as it wish without consulting its members. He could only hope that as the USDO became more and more known to the general public, with newspaper journalists and watchdog organizations surrounding it, that they will stop operating like the very criminals they sought to stop.

After having his fill of his one vice, Professor Utonium put out his pipe and went back into the House. He had resumed his research on Chemical X, and he wasn't going to stop until he'd understood everything about it. It was going to be tough, however, considering that he had to start from the beginning, remaking the stabilizing cocktail that had resulted in the kind of Chemical X that created the Girls. But he'd begun considering other avenues of research, such as analyzing and studying the cells he had taken from the Girls.

With Selicia helping with the Girls, he would be able to scrounge together a few hours of research time a day, and more than that, now that the Girls would be attending Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. As the professor was heading down to the labs, he smiled. Just a mere couple of days ago, he wouldn't have thought that having Selicia around was a good thing. But now… No, he wouldn't allow himself to feel for her. Their 'marriage' was a lie, concocted to give the Girls a more stable domestic life. It would be like spitting on Eileen and Bloome's grave.

He could hear the Girls shouting as he descended the stairwell leading into the labs. Selicia was getting the Girls to go through everything she had taught them about punching and kicking. He hated the idea that the Girls were going out there to fight crime, but with Selicia, at least they would be prepared for it. Everything was falling into place, not just for the USDO, but for himself.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was starting to believe that things might go well from here onwards.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37: Leads

2 Hours Ago…

The City of Townsville. Central District. City Hall.

11 DEC 1988. 1754.

When I got the call to City Hall, I knew what to expect. Honor guard duty. Putting the uniform back on, putting on a good show, standing around looking good. They needed every honest cop a hundred block radius around City Hall, and if I was in it, they were scraping at the bottom of the well. Hell, Townsville's been scraping at the bottom of the well for over ten years, like a thirsty man out of a desert.

It meant time away from my investigations, from taking down the Amoeba Boys, and I'd been busy shaking coins out of their expendable soldiers. It was a waste of time, but duty was duty, especially when I was still paying back for my crimes years back.

I was positioned at the door opposite the City Hall entrance, next to another one of them from the old boy's club. Officer Jacobson, with a scar through his left eye from an old, deep wound. Crazy junkie attack from eight years ago. We call him 'Canvas' because of his other, less visible scars underneath the uniform.

"Looking good, old man," Jacobson greeted me when I got to my post.

"I think I'll look better after this," I said, and meant it. I prefer beating the shit out of half-crazed low-lives under the payroll of the Lombardi Family, whether or not they had all the answers.

"So you heard about who's coming?" Canvas asked while he was straightening his uniform, checking his police belt.

"No, I've been busy. Got a big fish to catch, and it isn't something I wait for," I said. I was hesitant to reveal the big surprise. I couldn't trust anyone these days. Not even the supposedly handpicked men of the Mayor.

"Heard that it's the USDO. Word in the office is they got something big going on, a secret weapon," Officer Jacobson said. He smelt exactly like what he was doing. Swimming in the sewers that was the office, drinking up rumors.

"USDO? Those monkeys in black and white?" I said. The feds – I had no quarrel with them, but those guys got nothing on the mobs. The USDO weren't the only feds who tried. The FBI, the CIA, even the global feds who were the UN had all tried to help. The mob, the families, the serial killers and rapists and gangbangers and robbers and cop-killers and thieves and cultists and did I mention the mob? They're still here. "Sure. What are they going to do? Sic a bunch of monkeys down on the ski masks?"

"That's all I got, Mullens. We'll see who's walking through our door," the Canvas said.

"It's not my door," I said, made it loud and clear. The city's crawling with two-faced men whose tongues waggle on both ends. I wasn't going to be one of them, not anymore. Politicians – it was the men on top whose weaknesses broke the dam on us. Mayor Wilford – people may love that old grandpa, but I knew better.

"Well, here they come," Canvas gave me a heads up. Awfully kind of him. "USDO's secret weapons."

The grand oak doors into City Hall yawned open, and in came the so-called 'secret weapons'.

Apparently, the USDO wasn't sending in monkeys to do their work. They were deploying midgets into the fray instead. And they were dressed like clowns or some weird shit from a Japanese serial. One in red, one in blue and one in green. They were accompanied by a SWAT chick and some mad scientist without the Einstein hair to match.

"What the hell is this?" I couldn't help but to utter. Here I was, busting my ass to clean up the city for citizens who didn't deserve it, against criminals who wouldn't ever go away, and the USDO had decided that Townsville needed a circus. It was almost a sacrilege.

"Keep your voice down. They're coming this way," Jacobson whispered to me. I was a closed zipper after that. I didn't need any kind of flak for my current case; the case to end all cases. After speaking to some hot chick in red who represented the USDO and a tuxedo man, the midgets began coming my way. And wouldn't you know it? SWAT chick and Victor Frankenstein were left behind.

"You're going to have to hand over your weapons, lassies," I said to the one in red SWAT gear. She, or he, had a stupid bow attached to his or her helmet, as if she didn't look stupid enough. They were all armed with only compact pistols. It was as if they were trying hard to disappoint me. And after thirty years on the force, it's hard for me to feel disappointed. But here I was.

"What weapons?" the red midget spoke. A girl. I looked closer. Turned out, she was no midget. No, it was far worse than that. She was literally a girl. A little girl who looked like she should be riding a pony in the city circus instead of being decked out in what looked like kevlar armor on steroids and getting pimped by a shady agency like the USDO.

"Erm- Those pistols in your holsters? On your vest?" I said. Couldn't help give her the tone. The kind of tone I'd give to rookie cops who were likely in the force because the selection was slim. "Do you know what pistols are? Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"He meant this, Blossom!" another of the tri-colored joker girls exclaimed, unbuttoning her holster with difficulty and pulling out the compact pistol from it. But she was doing it all wrong, clumsy as well, the way a drug junkie would do it and end up accidentally shooting his friend.

"Hey, watch it!" I yelled. This second girl in green SWAT gear was just staring at me in confusion, like she had never handled a firearm before, hadn't even been on the firing range for a single day.

"What?" she asked. That had just confirmed it. She was entirely ignorant of gun safety rules. The USDO had just brought in three little kindergartners for some reason, and they didn't look like they could even handle a toy gun, much less the real thing. God help Townsville and the Mayor. Except he won't.

"Don't point that thing at me, you dolt! Don't you know that guns are dangerous?" I scolded the girl in green, feeling my masculinity shrink just by being around them. I was already starting to feel like a kindergarten teacher, rather than a copper. Perhaps I'd become something in between, like a kindergarten cop. Thank God the tri-colored kids were USDO, not TPD, and certainly not my business. I could only hope that they wouldn't be in my way as I work my way up the mafiaso food web.

"Oh, fine. Here you go, mister policeman," the girl in green said like a brat, as if I was the one in the wrong.

"God damn dolt," I muttered under my breath as I snatched her little pistol quickly, and it certainly wasn't a term of endearment I'd mumbled. I'd barely met the green-geared girl, and she'd already endangered my life.

The red girl and the blue girl (who hadn't spoken yet) did the same thing, but with wiser deftness, shifting their guns by holding them by the barrels instead.

"And that, missy, is how you do it. You should be more like your reddish girl friend, greeny," I added after collecting their weapons, and I'd made sure to sound as marginalizing as I could. I don't take kindly to having the muzzle of a gun pointed at me, as a few hundred fuckers found out the hard way. The green girl then threw a hateful look at the red girl with the stupid bow on her helmet. That was the only time when I saw how different those little girls were.

Their eyes were humming with a kind of faint glow, visible because of the shadow cast on them by the kiddy-colored USDO helmets they wore. Then there was that green-eyed girl. Something about the way she looked at her girl friend. Let's just say that it wasn't the kind of look you'd expect on a girl. Well, a normal girl anyway. Had the USDO done something to her? It took a while for me to match the jade jewels on her visage to the others I'd seen, and suffice it to say, the look she'd gave her girl friend was the kind you'd find on the streets, and I wasn't talking about the streets of the idyllic American Dream suburbs.

When it was all over and I'd remained standing despite the USDO secret weapons' sheer incompetence, the girls in gear walked through the door.

"Can't believe the Mayor's agreeing with this kiddy nonsense," I couldn't help but to say it. It was way beyond the crazy shit I'd seen in this city. Homicide, purse-snatching, robberies - those were like brushing your teeth or eating cereal in the morning. A crazy serial killer who'd pose his dead victims in a BDSM scene I can handle, but three completely untrained kids sent to fight crime by a federal agency? Sheer lunacy. Even more so than those crazy cultists running rampant in the peripheries and dark corners of Townsville.

"Yeah, I know right? Townsville's going to the nuthouse if it isn't there already," Canvas said. Seemed that we were in agreement for once. Hallelujah.

When the circus show was over, I'd gladly returned to my trench coat and leather shoes. The timing couldn't be better. It was over an hour into the night, when the low-lives and freakshows, nocturnal as they were, came out to hunt and play. But they weren't the only animals that were nocturnal. They weren't the only animals to hunt and play at night.

I should know. I used to be one of them.

Years ago, I'd gone deep undercover, let myself be swallowed up by the whale that was the Townsville criminal underground. The only problem was, it wasn't exactly an operation sanctioned by my captain. I had taken the initiative, and not entirely for the best of reasons. I was legitimately undercover for the most part. But two decades of honest police work had taken its toll. I had something of a crisis of faith. Sure, I'd burnt down more than my fair share of wolf dens, put over a hundred behind bars (most of whom didn't stay behind the psychopath zoo for long), even received medals and awards for it… But I was my family was still dirt poor. Happy, but dirt poor. I had to explore the other side, know about what prospects lay there. It was a procrastination of decisions to the highest order.

I'd sunk roots alongside gangsters and drug pushers alike, cut deals with them. At the same time, I'd arrested the right people - their competition and criminals who'd fallen out with the wrong people - to stay out of the gaze of the ratters, internal affairs, mob enforcers and street thugs alike.

Long story short, I'd decided to cut my new friends loose. The world of bling-blings bought from drug and prostitution money just wasn't for me. I had a daughter and a wife, and buying them dresses and jewellery with the sweat off the back of prostitutes, some way too young, just didn't have a good ring to it. My new friends didn't take too kindly to it. They'd confessed to my deep involvement with them, right down to the minute details, and the devil's in the details, especially when it involved the fact that I had to do certain things to get in with them. Certain things like tampering with evidences linking them to crimes, making selective arrests, enforcing and running for them. And those were the less damning things. Here's a hint: the girls of the house didn't like that I had to do things to said prostitutes, some way too young, to prove my loyalty.

The court cases took a whole year to peter out. I'd won that battle, mainly because of my reputation and intention to expose the rings I got myself in, but that was only one battle. The domestic front was a catastrophe. The wife left me, and the daughter grew to hate me, even after she joined up with the blues and saw for herself how murky things could get. I don't blame them.

After the City Hall bullshit, I drove into the tenement area. Alone. My partner was no good. I'd left him to do his own dirty work. A soldier of the Lombardi Family I tortured for three days had finally squealed and revealed his Capo's activities. They were involved in some sort of new drug operation. Something 'better' than cocaine. Apparently, the new drug was so potent and potentially profitable that it was kept under wraps. They refer to it as 'His Secret'. Street name unknown, probably because it was too new. My money's on the certainty that it was short form for something else, something only a chemist or a biologist would know.

The tenement area was barely habitable by civilized terms. Roadblocks were set up around it 24/7, but the drugsters had long circumvented it with their own underground railroad for cocaine slaves in the sewers that it was merely an inconvenience. The police precincts there weren't so much as maintaining a civil society as operating like castles, sending out blue knights to raid the surroundings for the seemingly endless supply of drugs and illegal prostitutes and shipments. The sheer number of criminals around them kept their activities down. An uneasy status quo was struck, and no one's winning.

When I was at the roadblock, I was warned about entering the Tenement area. I'd heard it too many times. I went full speed ahead regardless. I stopped a block away from an apartment, rundown even by tenement standards, and suited up for war. Vest, shotgun, a large revolver, a spare pistol. Flashbangs. A knife. The license to kill, the perfect place to snuff out cockroaches like drug runners. In a place as bad as this, the death of low-lives were often overlooked. I didn't need a warrant. The drugs weren't the priority.

I'd spent over twenty years of police action in a hell hole known as Townsville. I'd seen fellow honest cops fall during the early days, in the resurgence of crime, when they couldn't handle the kind of heat outside issuing parking tickets and telling off jaywalkers. You'd think that I should have used the backdoor.

Nope. I'd decided to knock from the front. It was the in thing with hardcores like me these days, and it wasn't for show. The backdoor was more heavily guarded. I went in cold at first, crossing the street with a hoody bought off a bum. Went up to the guards, spouting all-out street slang, claiming to be looking for a restock on my shelf of cocaine for my 'hoes'. Being one of them years ago helped.

There were only two of them at the front entrance. When one of them turned his back, I stuck a knife in him, then rushed the other. The 21-foot rule won out. The other guard couldn't even pull his pistol out, couldn't even scream, when I put my knife through his throat.

Before I went in, I greeted the receptionists in the lobby area with a flashbang. They didn't give me a warm welcome, so I demonstrated to them how it was done with my shotgun. In the chaos that resulted, with men shouting as they were coming down to tango, I found an empty elevator shaft and took it up instead. What can I say? I guess I got lazy.

Mob protocol usually puts the Capo on the top floor. He was the brains, not the muscle, and so he wasn't always expected to fight. There was something about symbolism too. A man's dome was on top of the body, so it should be, at least according to the Lombardi Family, that he should be on top of a Family front.

I climbed my way to the third level, halfway to top floor. By now, most of the muscle had filtered downstairs, like white blood cells in an autoimmune body. But there was a minority of them who were a little smarter, and as I landed on the landing of the third-floor lift, two of them took me by surprise, firing rounds from their street-grade pistols at me. I drew mine and fired. We all drew blood.

I felt the needle jab in my left upper arm. Another had cracked the kevlar on my chest, nothing else underneath. I was lucky. Those two Lombardi soldiers weren't. I'd made sure they felt nothing when I shot them in the face.

I ascended the stairs. Two more were coming down. I fired more rounds to send them tumbling. Fourth floor. No more cockroaches there. The fifth floor was livelier. Sparks were flying when I tried to cross to the stairs leading further up. Taking cover just behind the doorless entrance to the fifth floor, I let off more rounds blindly, saw who I was dealing with this time. Some half-naked under-aged punk-girl, shooting a revolver alongside a pinstriped soldier, who didn't look much older than her, perhaps just breaking into the big 20.

I didn't discriminate. Unhooking my second flashbang, I threw it in and waited. I unslung my shotgun to fire pellets, something they'd have more difficulty negotiating around. For a brief moment, I saw blood all over the girl and her boyfriend. I took off after that. The regrets would have to come later, when I had the painkiller ready at the bottom of a bottle.

Sixth floor. The doors were locked. I picked it open with my shotgun after reloading it. Bullets smashed through it the moment I did, grazing my cheek. I took cover as more were turning the wooden doors into a modern art impression. When it all stopped, I faced my back to the wall and did a horse kick to open one of the Swiss cheese. More shots were fired. They had been waiting for me all along, hoping that I'd assume they'd run out.

I went in, shotgun blazing, after that. I dropped a mobster to the Capo's left, then another to his right. Some of the pellets had clipped the low-level mafiaso leader in the arm, almost like retribution, almost as if there's such a thing as the divine. He went down, had probably never tasted pain for a while. I slung my shotgun and pulled my revolver on him. He didn't dare move.

"Fuck is this shit? What the fuck d'you think your' doing'?" the Capo demanded, like he was the freakin' king of the city. "You think you can come in here and just-" I booted him in the ribs before he could flap his lips any further, a payback for the bruise that was likely forming on mine. Before he could recover, I gave him the boot again in the face. He was out after that. Before I exit the stage, I saw syringes on his desk. I had nearly lost all hope of stealing a sample of 'His Secret'. After swiping them, I turned my attention back to the Capo.

Taking him with a fireman's lift, I exited the floor through the window, on the fire escape. I was long gone before the Capo's gangsters knew to look for their under-underboss. I grunted as I worked my way down, the bullet in my left arm starting to smart even with the adrenaline pumping in my veins.

It was all in a day's work, but there was more ahead. Making the mob captain talk, for instance. The higher they climb, the less they were willing to talk.

It should prove to be a fun and interesting challenge.

Chapter Text

Interlude: A Book Clipping

Source: History of the Powerpuff Girls, 2008. Celebrating 20 years of the Powerpuff Girls. A Powerpuff Girls Museum Publication.

Artist's Impression of The 1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank by bluedotdenizen

Chapter Text

Chapter 38: School

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

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 0728.

A new dawn. A new day. Another day full of possibilities. Miss Jessica Keane had always loved her day at work, so much so that the term 'Monday Blues' meant nothing to her.

Walking up the path leading to her school, a beige-colored two-story tall complex serving several neighborhoods all around, she greeted the security guards at their posts, who seemed stiffer and more formal than they usually were. 'Must be the Monday Blues,' she thought as she produced a key and opened the double doors. The corridor within was still dark. She was the first teacher in school, as usual. Flipping the switch, she brought life to the corridor, and made her way to her office at the back of the school. In her right arm was a bag of groceries; coffee powder and milk for her coffee machine, assorted snacks to supplement to endless supply of apples from her students and of course, stickers for the kids. The school's stock was limited, and she wanted very much to surprise the kids on a day so close to Christmas.

At the frosted glass of her door, she flipped through the keys on her keyring, and opened the door. As usual, it was dark inside, and it smelled of lavender because of the aromatherapy dispenser. She reached for the light switch and flipped it-

To find a huge man in black uniform sitting at her desk. Old, considering the hair and wrinkles, but still looking very much as healthy as an ox, and as strong as one too.

"Oh my!" the kindergarten teacher exclaimed in shock when she saw him, dropping her grocery bag. Thankfully, there was nothing inside that could break.

"Hello, Miss Keane," he said in a gravelly voice that sent chills down her spine, as if getting startled by his sudden appearance wasn't enough. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, have a seat."

The look of the big man screamed danger. She wasn't sure if he was trying to calm her down or intimidate her, but he pulled his pistol out of his holster and rested it on the table. She backed away, only to be met with the hard glass of her door. Someone had closed it. Hands seized her by both arms and dragged her forward. As it turned out, she was flanked by two security officers in gray uniform; they were there all along, hiding in the dark.

"Gentle, men, gentle," the big man said to his officers, who obeyed immediately, leading her forward and gesturing for her to sit down.

"What's happening?" Miss Keane said, still shaken from the sudden appearance of these men, who looked like they were ready to do something to her. "Are you going to kill me?"

"I'm Chief of Security Blackwater. I represent the USDO. Heard of it?" the big man introduced himself. He leaned back, pressing his fingers together as if in contemplation. Keane thought back. Yes. The USDO. She didn't read or watch the news much, but word of their arrival in town to clean up Townsville had filtered to her through her fellow teachers at Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. It was relevant news after all. Anything that could reduce crime and make the neighborhoods a safer place would be a boon the school.

"I guess- What is this about?" Miss Keane questioned again. She'd pressed herself closer to her guest chair. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't afraid. Despite everything she had seen and avoided, she had never been this close to danger before. She had always been a herd creature, commuting with her friends, and now that she was alone with her friends probably halfway to town by now, with people who was definitely not part of her herd in close proximity with her, she was deathly terrified.

"You'll be getting three new students today, what would appear to be three little girls," Blackwater said coldly.

"What do you mean by 'what would appear to be three little girls'?" Miss Keane inquired, but cautiously. One question at a time, nothing that could set a man she thought to be volatile off.

"It's complicated. Let me just get one thing out of the way first. You're one of us now," Blackwater asserted.

"W- w- what?" Miss Keane stuttered, all the more confused now. "I'm just a kindergarten teacher!"

"And you'll continue to be a kindergarten teacher, with a few extra benefits," Blackwater said. "You'll get double your current pay, additional medical benefits. Special protection. And of course, the chance to make history."

"Um- Mister Blackwater," Miss Keane raised a hand, as if a kid who had a question. "What about the three little girls? Why the need for all this- This- Drama?"

"They're not quite little girls. They're lab-grown organic crime-fighting weapon platforms. At least, that's how we term them. At least ten times stronger and faster than a trained soldier, and a heck of a lot more resilient. But they're still acting like stupid little baby girls. Your job is to educate them enough that they will be the equivalent of at least 16 or 18-year-old military recruits," Blackwater said.

"Have you spoken with Principal Truman about this? I'm hardly the woman to make any kind of enrollment decisions, Mister Blackwater. I'm just a humble teacher," Miss Keane asked.

"Yesterday. Do we have your cooperation?" Blackwater demanded.

"Can I refuse?" Miss Keane said, though she regretted it the moment she did. These people didn't look like the sort who would take no for an answer.

"Yes, you could," Blackwater said unexpectedly. Miss Keane was about to thank him for being a gentleman when he continued. "At the cost of your position in this… Pokey Oaks Kindergarten, and a blanket blacklist that will prevent you from ever taking up a position in any educational institutions in the entirety of the United States. And her allies."

No, they certainly wouldn't take no for an answer.

"But-" Miss Keane said, her voice shaking, finding it impossible to believe that she could be so unlucky. "Why me? Why not the other teachers in the faculty? Mrs Brown from next door has 20 years more experience than I do!"

"We selected you based on job performance. 55% of your graduated kindergartners had gone on to become overachieving grade-A students in elementary school thus far. Mrs Brown, on the other hand, couldn't even make 10% to save her life," Blackwater explained. Miss Keane was dumbfounded. The administration of Pokey Oaks Kindergarten hadn't even bothered to collect such data, and here the USDO was, coming up with percentages despite being a paramilitary organization. The only way they could have done it was by comparing old student files with that of the elementary schools they were transferred to. And they had done it overnight by probably twisting the arms of school officials into letting them access their computer data or literally flying soldiers to the schools to pick through old-fashioned paper documents.

"Oh, that's flattering, but what if-" Jessica was cut off the moment she showed a hint of doubt.

"The three girls'… foster parents are still alive. Unlike our previous efforts, these subjects could be controlled and pacified. They behave like normal children… with far superior physical abilities, of course. If you treat them as such, they should cooperate," Blackwater assured the school teacher. Well, as much as a shadowy military operative with hundreds of goons on his back and the license to kill could attempt such a thing. He looked at his watch. A reinforced black military-grade thing with a compass and a 24-hour dial. "Their ETA is 45 minutes. You have until then to get ready for class." He then nodded to a soldier who had just come in through the door. Without warning, the soldier slapped a collection of document in front of Keane. She jumped when he did.

"That's all you need to know, plus a little extra curriculum material for the girls," the Chief of Security said. Miss Keane leafed through the documents. Collated information on the girls. Their physical descriptions. Surface information on their enhanced abilities, and even then, it was stamped with 'CLASSIFIED' in big, blocky red ink. The extra curriculum consisted of vocabulary found on the battlefield, starting with radio codes for all English alphabets, as well as standard radio commands. There was a detailed map of Townsville folded within, which highlights the major landmarks, streets, potential crime targets such as the Townsville Museum and the Townsville Central Bank, and more. Then there was a list of general and specific terms for different kinds of guns and gun designs, as well as the anatomy of the gun, and as if that wasn't enough, there was material for the anatomy of the human body, as well as notes on which parts could be struck for the most adverse effects and damage. "Assign them as homework if you want. I know for a fact that at least one of their parents would be glad to help."

"But- Teaching girls about guns and violence! Isn't that the opposite of what I'm supposed to do?" Miss Keane objected. Too much had changed within minutes that she thought she was going to faint. Blackwater stared at her in the eyes for a while. It had the effect of shutting her up. For a moment, the teacher was afraid that she was going to be shot in the head.

"Not when these three girls are going to be at the forefront of law enforcement in Townsville. What, you think that, with all their capabilities and applications, we're just going to let them sit around and play house?" Blackwater said. "That brings me to another point, so listen well, Miss Keane. They'll be on call 24/7 from now on. If it just so happens to be during class hours, you'll give them a pass every time. Any questions, Keane? Or should I say, Agent Keane?"

It was revolting, the way Blackwater had given her a title so contradictory to what she had been doing for the last eight odd years or so.

"No," Miss Keane said, her voice barely a whisper, her guts in knots as she stared fearfully into the steel eyes of the beast that was sitting on her chair.

"Then I'll leave you to it then. Your joining bonus has been credited into your bank account, by the way. Have a nice day," Blackwater said, before standing up, her chair creaking with relief from the weight coming off its seat. Miss Keane felt the opposite of that. Just yesterday, she'd been enjoying a nice pasta and champagne, apathetic of the world outside her apartment and life, and now, it seemed as if she was neck-deep in the politics and seedy realities of it. Within minutes, it seemed as if her life had been turned upside down, ruined. Whatever amount of money that had been credited into her bank account wouldn't make up for that.

"Oh, and before I leave," Blackwater said again, before he left. Pulling something black out of a compartment on his belt, he thrust a metallic thing at her, and she took it instinctively with two outstretched hands. A pistol in a holster. She screamed as if it was a giant rat and dropped it. "It's just in case someone thinks you're too valuable, or one of them girls think you're the opposite of that. Good luck. Agent Keane."

"Just Miss Keane will do," she muttered timidly. Blackwater stared down at her as if she'd done something wrong, but said nothing more before leaving with his men. When he did, she picked up the gun by the tip of the handle, pinching it with two fingers as if it was something dead from the sewers. "Well, it's going to be a long day." She tried to stay positive - perhaps nothing much would change. She was going to make sure that her class was going to remain as normal as possible. Going around her desk, she sat down on her chair, feeling that it was all warmed up by Blackwater. She promptly dumped the gun in her drawer and closed it.

But she'd had second thoughts. She was involved in the violence of Townsville now, whether she liked it or not. Opening the drawer again, she took the pistol out and stuff it into a pocket inside her red vest. She might have been trying to keep the world out of her life, but she was prepared to defend it. She'd been on the firing range once in a while and kept her own revolver at home. She told herself that this was no different.

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

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 0820.

"Is it going to be like our room?" Bubbles asked as she bounced on the backseat of the family car, excited, as always, at encountering new things. And people. People, especially, and especially when they weren't all going to be big and scary and mean, as she'd discovered with the policemen in City Hall and Blackwater. She'd finally be able to find out how boys were like.

"It's going to be much better than that, sweetie," Professor Utonium said. "it'll be bigger, and there'll be other kids your age to play and learn with."

"What is it called again?" Buttercup asked. She hadn't been paying attention, having slipped back into a more brooding state earlier.

"School. Kindergarten, Buttercup," Selicia reminded the feisty little girl from the front seat.

"Will you be teaching us there instead?" Blossom said, hoping that Daddy would say yes.

"No, someone better at teaching will be taking you three instead," the professor said.

"But no one's better than you," Blossom said. She wrapped her arms around the professor's neck and seat headrest from behind lovingly. But he could see her eyes on the rear-view mirror, how her brows were knit together in worry and dismay. The beginnings of separation anxiety. "I wish you'd teach us instead of a… a…"

"Teacher, Blossom," the professor reminded the smart girl. It seemed strange that she would forget that word, something he'd taught the three just the day before. But then again, a near-hundred-percent retention rate wasn't a hundred percent. He pushed his worry away, putting it down to other things. "Now, now, Blossom. You have to learn to meet new people and befriend them. As much as we love each other, your sisters and parents aren't the only people – good people – in the world."

"But I've made friends with Mister Blake, Mister Simmons, Mister Ruthy and their friends too," Blossom said.

"I'm talking about the kind of friends kids your age should make, honey," the professor explained. He looked into the rear view mirror again. Blossom's face did not change. Buttercup looked annoyed in her corner of the car, looking away from how Blossom was so lovingly marking her territory. Bubbles sat in the middle, close to neither parents.

"But what's wrong with Mister Blake and the others?" Blossom persisted.

"They're not your age, and, well, they're just not the same as you," the professor tried to explain, but there were things that he could not say, or didn't want to say out loud. In truth, he didn't like the idea of soldiers and the general assortment of rough people mingling with his adopted daughters. Selicia was a gamble enough.

"But you and Mom aren't the same as me," Blossom fumbled for words. There was so much more on her mind that she could not put into words, and there wasn't time for her to figure it out either. Soon, Pokey Oaks Kindergarten, a beige building two storey high and at least eight classrooms large came into view, standing out against the snow with its brightly-painted walls. The professor drove them past the open gate, then to the parking lot.

"Whoa…" the Girls chorused as they saw what was there. Other children streaming into the school. They had never seen this many children before, and to think that they were going to rub shoulders with them soon!

Together, the Utonium family (as they were code-named) exited their vehicle, and with hands joined, entered the building. Inside, lots of children and the few teachers present threw them 'the look'. The same kind they'd been getting since weeks ago at the mall. The Girls were almost ethereally beautiful - Blossom with her almost royal allure, Bubbles and her irresistible cuteness and Buttercup with her bottomless well of strength and 'bad attitude' - then there was their eyes, which were one of a kind. It was hard not to get noticed. Add to this the parents, one who looked like he was going to invent a time machine, and the other, despite the black dress and coat, looked tough due to her well-toned muscles. Selicia's youth (and the fact that she had never actually given birth to triplets), perhaps a ways below the average age of mothers with 5-year-old children, had given her a way to cheat when it came to beauty.

"Mister and Missus Utonium, hello there!" a female voice, not too high-pitched, greeted them, each word deliberately pronounced to perfection. It was Miss Keane, the Girls' new teacher. She was wearing a red vest over an orange shirt. Brown pants. Short, blue eyes, shoulder-length black hair. Her face was like the sun itself, bright and welcoming.

"Guilty as charged," Selicia returned the greeting.

"Nice to meet you," Thomas did the same.

"Welcome to Pokey Oaks Kindergarten, it's good to see some new faces," the educator introduced herself, a hand on her chest. The children under her were pretty well-behaved. They were all lined up outside the classroom, but they were all looking at the new arrivals, who were all beginning to feel a little shy. Thankfully, they were just streaming into the classroom. The moment Miss Keane looked down at Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, she was awed by how they looked. The pictures she was provided with did not do them justice. "Oh my, what beautiful little angels!"

When Miss Keane looked down at the Girls, beaming at them, the Girls felt calm. Whatever nervousness and fear they had for a future in this school was dispelled. The teacher bent down to their level, making eye contact. It was hard for the teacher to do so, considering what she knew, but years of interacting with children had trained her for this, especially when some of them could be… difficult. "Hi there! I'm your teacher, Miss Keane, and welcome to your new school!"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Keane," Blossom opened up first, as usual. "I'm Blossom."

"And I'm Bubbles," the blonde one introduced herself next. "Can we be friends?"

"And I'm Buttercup!" the green-dressed one came last.

"It's a pleasure to meet you three too," Miss Keane said. "Why don't the three of you go on in and take a look while I speak to your dearest parents?" She got up and opened the door, leading the Girls in to stand by the door. The sound of children playing came flooding out the moment Miss Keane opened the door. Professor Utonium and Selicia followed them, and ended up standing at the threshold between classroom and corridor. When Miss Keane turned to the Utoniums again, however, the adults were beaten to it by the children.

"Hey, do you want to play?" a boy in white and cyan shirt, sent on behalf of a quarter of the classroom, had come forward to offer the newcomers. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup turned to Miss Keane, deferring to her authority instantly. It was as if Miss Keane knew they would do that. Most children would, because of their initial timidity and general dependence on adults. With this, Blackwater was right, at least. Miss Keane nodded at them. The Girls took off with Cyan Shirt Boy, giggling and laughing as they ran towards their new classmates without the use of their superpowers - the professor had made sure to reiterate that rule multiple times in the car. It was as if all anxiety and fear of separating from their Daddy was gone, as they were distracted by the wondrous sight before them. Girls like them! Boys, the mythical boys! New toys! Strange, new books! Everything was new in the gigantic room they called the classroom.

"Um, do you think they'd be okay? Because I'm sort of… new at this parenting thing and I wanted to come and meet you and see them off for the first day because they're really special- I mean, reeeeeally special, and I just want to make sure they'd be okay. So, what do you think, do you think they'd be okay?" the professor went on and on, nervous about the prospect of leaving the Girls all alone on their own without supervision. He was constantly shifting his eyes between the Girls, who had dispersed in the classroom, and Miss Keane.

"New?" Miss Keane asked. She had not been told that the Girls were actually 3 weeks old. The classified documents she was given had only given her their physical descriptions, personality matrix and limited info on their enhanced abilities.

Selicia cleared her throat to attract their attention. "What my hubby here meant is that he's just not very confident of his abilities as a father," she covered for the professor. "But we all know how good you are to the Girls, aren't you, Tommy?" Selicia had an arm around the professor, giving him a squeeze and kissing him on the cheek.

The professor gave a nervous laughter. "I guess…"

"Oh, they'll be just fine, Mister Utonium, see?" Miss Keane reassured the professor, waving a hand in the general direction of the Girls. Blossom had taken to sharing a book with another child. Bubbles had joined in with an arts and craft table, and Buttercup was haphazardly directing some model traffic, creating model accidents with model automobiles on the floor not far away. "We'll see you at noon, okay?"

"Okay… Bye Girls!" the professor shouted to the Girls, waving at them, over the crashing sound of children having fun. Blossom and Bubbles waved back, while Buttercup was too absorbed by the model mayhem she was causing to notice. "Bye! Goodbye!" the professor repeatedly bade farewell, still afraid for the Girls, and what might happen if he wasn't around. Buttercup finally took notice and waved back. "Bye-bye! Bye!"

Miss Keane led him out. Selicia followed. It was nearly always the case - parents anxious to leave their children alone. Sometimes, the children would suffer separation anxiety, but apparently, that was not so with these new kids. Even when the door was closed, the professor was still waving goodbye at his charges, until Selicia eventually managed to pull him out of sight.

For once, things were going swimmingly well. But just beyond the walls of the school, things were building up. Immediately beyond the education institution, the Girls' speed convoy was lined up at the parking lot, ready at a moment's notice to take the Girls to wherever they were most needed. Humvees and men were stationed around the school, as if it was Fort Knox itself. In the City of Townsville itself, important men were meeting to discuss their respective businesses, and the crooks in their own hideouts too, which would put Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup to the test.

Chapter Text

Joint Townsville-USDO Project Powerpuff Deployment Talks Transcript 12121988

DOC: 12 DEC 1988.

The following has been reconstructed from video and audio recordings.

START TRANSCRIPT

(Location: Townsville City Hall)

(Townsville Attendants: Mayor Wilford and staff. Police Commissioner Davis and direct subordinates, including multiple Police Chiefs. The District Attorney and his assistants are present. Key municipal officials are also present.)

(USDO Attendants: Organization Chief Cliff and staff. Chief of Security Blackwater and staff. Liaisons Head Bellum.)

(Time: 1029. The talk is held in the City Hall, as usual, but it is now filled with more attendants than before. Representatives of Townsville and USDO are seated on opposite sides of the city hall. The entrance is guarded by both USDO and Police SWAT teams.)

Mayor's Aide: This meeting is now in session. The agenda of the day will cover the Mayor's decision to either give his go-ahead or no-go to the deployment of Project Powerpuff. Should it be the former, matters raised will include Project Powerpuff's mode of operation, their level of involvement, general strategies to tackle crime in Townsville as well as logistical issues, legal matters and administration. Mayor?

(What follows will be a long speech)

Mayor Wilford: (Stands up with the help of his cane) I would like to start by thanking everyone involved in making my meeting with the Girls, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, possible. This extends to the folks on both sides, the USDO and Townsville. Thank you all. (he sweeps his gaze at everyone, his smile partially hidden by his massive gray moustache.

Because of all your hard work, I was able to meet these fine young lasses in my office. While my first impressions was that their parents, or should I say, the USDO, involvement, hadn't quite picked the right dresses for a formal sit-down tea session with the Mayor (hearty laughter, mainly from Townsville side), these Girls had made up for it with their lovely beauty, their sweetness, their optimism for life, and for Townsville itself, and whether they are self-conscious of this or not, it matters not. I pride myself for being an excellent judge of character, and I sense that they are sincerely, genuinely, good little girls. They're kind - they'd walked me to my seat even though it was just a few measly yards away. I don't know when's the last time someone did that for me.

(Murmurs on USDO side.)

You know, we talked for a while, me and the girls - Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup - I've made it a point to remember their names, recite them in front of the mirror everyday, making sure I pronounce them right, making sure I matched them to the right Girls, the right colors. I don't know if everyone in the USDO does that, but that's just manners - and I got to learn much about them as much as I'm sure they've learned much about me. And I couldn't help but to keep asking myself: do I want these young little girls to do my men's job?

For a while, I hovered between a yes and a no. These are little girls, for Pete's sake! Now, I don't care what you USDOes think. But then they started talking about a better place, a city where no one's hurting one another. They started talking about how sad the state of affairs in Townsville made them. And just like that, they started talking about helping these people. What they didn't talk about is money. They didn't talk about power, even when they possess the destructive force of an atom bomb at their fingertips. They didn't talk about politics, even if they could hold everyone in this hall hostage right now. They didn't talk about recognition and fame, even though they could easily accumulate those easily through their feats and displays of near-supernatural powers. Even when I extended my hand and asked them 'Don't the three of you want anything for yourselves?'. Blossom did request a single term - and her price isn't so steep. She wants to be loved. I don't know what happened that might have caused her to think that it is otherwise, but I'm willing to bet that the hatred in this city had gotten to her - an innocent girl.

If you don't mind, Alfred, do you mind playing my video for me, if you please?

(Alfred, the Mayor's aide, picks up a remote control and presses a few buttons. A projector screen rolls down like a scroll from the top. He then signaled to the projector man to begin playing a video)

I apologize for the breach of privacy, but then again, it's all security footage, and I'm sure the Girls will forgive me for this trespass. After all, it will show all of you what they really are underneath.

[A video plays on the screen. The following is a transcript of the video:

VIDEO TRANSCRIPT START

Mayor Wilford, with Blossom supporting him by his right arm and Bubbles holding him by the left arm, returns to the Mayor's office from the outside.

Buttercup: Oh man, that was cool! It's like the soldiers down there were like ants, and we get to look down at the city, and- (continues raving as the others speak)

Bubbles: Daddy told us about airplanes, do you have an airplane, Mayor Wilford? He said that we can go really high that we'll land on the clouds!

Blossom: It's really nice of you to give us a ride on your balloon, Mister Mayor!

Mayor Wilford: Oh, don't mention it, you three. You know, Bubbles, I do have an airplane. It sure can't compare to Air Force One but at least you'd get a good view of the city. I can take the three of you one of these days… But for now, I have a little surprise. Can I trouble the three of you to open the luggage you brought up?

Blossom: No problem, Mister Mayor - It's the least we could do. Right, Girls?

Bubbles: Right! (excited)

Buttercup: Yeah, yeah… (appears disgruntled at Blossom)

(The three Girls go up to the luggage sitting beside the Mayor's desk. The Mayor follows behind them. Blossom is the first to try opening the luggage. She seem to struggle at first, but she tears the lid completely off after that. She looks at the Mayor with a rather troubled look on her face, but the Mayor gives her a nod.)

Mayor Wilford: It's fine, Blossom. I meant for it to come off that way. There wasn't a way to open it. You had to break it open like you did.

(Bubbles and Buttercup each tore off the lid to their luggage like aluminium foil despite the fact that they are reinforced. Mayor Wilford appears impressed by their feat of strength. Blossom pulls out what appears to be a jar of assorted candies standing among steel beams filling the luggage. Bubbles and Buttercup does the same. Blossom looks at Mayor Wilford as if looking for his approval.)

Mayor Wilford: I just thought I should show you three a little something with that. Sometimes, a task can seem harsh, or meaningless, or unrewarding. But sometimes - you never know - there could be a reward waiting for you if you do it right.

Blossom: Mister Mayor, it's really nice of you, but Daddy said that I shouldn't eat these stuff. (She puts the jar of candies on the Mayor's table. Bubbles follow suit, then followed by a reluctant Buttercup) Besides, I don't need a reward for helping you. It's just really nice to make a new friend.

Mayor Wilford: How noble of the three of you. You know, I won't mind the three of you eating at least one of the candies from the jars. I won't tell your father.

(Buttercup makes a move for her jar of candies. Mayor Wilford nods in approval. The ravenette then proceeds to tear the lid off the jar and scoop up some candies, pouring them into a magazine pouch on her vest. She unwraps one of them and pops it into her mouth.

Buttercup: Hmm-mmm! Apple flavored!

Blossom: Thank you, Mister Mayor, but I'll pass. (Smiles at the Mayor)

Bubbles: I like spending time with you, Mayor Wilford. (Smiles toothily at the Mayor)

Mayor Wilford: Why, it's my pleasure too! The three of you have singlehandedly made me feel nostalgic about my children… And grandchildren… Oh, and the great-grandchildren too! Oh how- (Video cuts off from here)

VIDEO TRANSCRIPT END]

Look at that. Aren't they sweet? Despite all that get-up (looks at Director Cliff of USDO). I think you've undersold them. Ladies and gentlemen, I've made my decision. These three girls: Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, are what the city needs. Despite my reservation about putting children in harm's way, I have decided that the USDO should be allowed to deploy these girls. Or more accurately, that these Girls should be allowed to do what they wish: protect the city, clean it up. They are honest. They are pure. They are nice and they seem incorruptible. And they represent everything that this city has lost, and by the stars and stripes, God and man, they will restore this City to its former glory!

(The floor applauses his speech, and slowly subsides)

But we can't rebuild this city on the back of these well-meaning Girls alone, which is why I'm giving them my fullest support. Commissioner Davis, make sure that the police won't ever hinder the Girls. I want full cooperation from the police. In fact, I want all civil departments to give full access and cooperation in their areas of responsibility, effective immediately. I want concerns raised and debated and solved by today, because from today onwards, they will be Townsville's defenders.

District Attorney: Just one thing. The status of these three… girls. We have established that they are neither American citizens nor even persons. That makes their status equivalent to that of animals. Will this change anytime soon, Director Cliff?

Organization Director Cliff: No.

District Attorney: So they can't be put in court, and neither can they even appear in court. Do you realize how big an impediment this will be to the justice system?

Organization Director Cliff: Their statements can be taken as evidence and compared against eyewitness and official accounts.

District Attorney: And I'm not just talking about their influence in court proceedings against defendants. How will these… Three be held responsible should they commit any wrongdoings? You've shown us how powerful they are. But what's going to happen if they turn their fists against the wrong people? Do property damage, especially unwarranted damage?

Chief of Security Blackwater: That's never going to happen-

District Attorney: Yeah, and fairy tales are real, too.

Chief of Security Blackwater: And even if it does, the USDO will be the party chiefly responsible for any 'wrongdoings' they commit.

District Attorney: Right, that's comforting, because we all know how easy it is for a federal agency, even one of your calibre, to come forward and admit a mistake.

Mayor Wilford: (Clears throat) We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Mister Cliff, I'll accept your stance on the Girls' status for now, but I want that issue open for discussion in the future, preferably when things are calmer and friendlier.

Organization Director Cliff: Thank you, Mayor. We can always renew our agreements whenever both parties agree to. Failing that, there's always a year later, when the agreement is up for re-negotiation.

Mayor Wilford: Any other concerns from my city?

Commissioner Davis: Blackwater. You mentioned a few days back that you won't be handing out guns like candy to those kids. My man at the door told me a different story. What's the big idea?

Chief of Security Blackwater: I like to play it safe. Make sure the personnel under me are adequately protected, and that includes their own ability to protect themselves. With those kiddies, I've decided that they should have the tactical flexibility that guns provide.

Commissioner Davis: What's next? You gonna give them bazookas or something? We're talking civilian lives here, Blackwater! And I don't feel it. I don't think putting the lives of the citizens of Townsville in the hands of a bunch of kids is a good idea!

Chief of Security Blackwater: They're not just any kind of kids. Recently, we've conducted more tests on our subjects. Their vision is far superior to ours. B-47 is even able to use her eyes like a pair of binoculars, with a zoom factor of about 50 times? 100 times? Combined with their superior strength and reflex, firing a gun should be elementary to them.

Commissioner Davis: Have you trained them in the use of firearms?

Chief of Security Blackwater: We're working on it.

Commissioner Davis: 'We're working on it'? Great, just great.

Mayor Wilford: Commissioner. (Davis stops and sits down) I realize that this is a leap of faith for all of us, but quite frankly, the only thing we can do is to leap. I, of all people, should know that. I'm beginning to fear that simply increasing the size of the TPD isn't enough – our situation is beyond ordinary. So, we have to jump to the next rock we know. The Girls and the USDO. It's the one thing we haven't tried, the same as democracy when all other methods of governance had been tried and failed.

Chief of Security Blackwater. You have my permission to arm the Girls. It wasn't reflected in the agreement we're drafting, but it will be.

Commissioner Davis: People are going to die because of this!

Mayor Wilford: People are already dying out there in the streets, Commissioner. I know. The City is ill, and if a fever is what it takes for it to get better, then so be it, if it means a future where no one needs to die. Besides, I trust them not to wreck Townsville and kill its citizens while they try to save it. I can't see those three little girls doing that.

(Silence)

Organization Director Cliff: Liaison Head Bellum, how's the hotline coming along?

Liaison Head Bellum: Good, sir. All the required equipment has been installed. Now, it's just a matter of getting a call.

Organization Director Cliff: Good. Now, from here onwards, I would like you to act as a representative aof the USDO, to stay on in the Townsville City Hall and act as the Mayor's adviser in all things USDO and Project Powerpuff. What do you think, Mayor? This is one way we, the USDO and Townsville, can work together better.

Liaison Head Bellum: I'll gladly take up that position, sir.

Mayor Wilford: I've worked with Bellum before, and the family could always use a new member, now that things are getting complicated. Er- Welcome to the City Hall, Miss Bellum.

(The rest of the meeting goes into details about the more mundane matters of the deployment of Project Powerpuff. Red tape, administrative processes.)

TRANSCRIPT END

Chapter Text

A/N: I've decided to put the quote below in the prologue, as it seems to be the overwhelmingly prevailing theme in this story:

"He who fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." - Friedrich Nietszche

Chapter 39: Changes

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

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 1306.

"Why not the Townsville Mall? It's not so bad," Selicia was in the middle of her suggestion for a date between her and Professor Utonium. And the Girls, of course. "I haven't been there much at all. Just twice."

"Twice?" Professor Utonium said. He'd thought that his wife had been there only once - when Buttercup shoved Bubbles in the movie theater. The both of them were in the car, waiting outside the kindergarten complex. "When's the first time?"

"The night before I scared your pants brown in your room," Selicia said. "I flew straight to Townsville from HQ, the old one, I mean. I went to the mall, had a few cold ones, and just waited there until morning. I actually had the Butterflies, or should I say the Buttercups? It was worse than entering a fire zone. I didn't know how it's going to be like, adopting the Girls as my babies and you as my hubby."

"You waited in the bar for one whole night?" the professor said. He could still remember the morning when Selicia just appeared in his room like a genie from a bottle. She didn't look like a barfly out of an alcoholic dump at all.

"Yeah, and- oh, here they come," Selicia was about to reveal more when she warned the professor about the approaching Girls. They were running towards them, all smiles and laughter. Miss Keane, their new teacher, was waving goodbye to them, and Bubbles waved at her a final time before entering the car. The moment Professor Utonium saw her, he knew that there was something he had to do.

"Watch the Girls for me," the professor instructed Selicia curtly before exiting the family car. He came up to Miss Keane, whose smile seemed permanently glued to her face.

"Afternoon, Miss Keane," the professor greeted the teacher as he ascended to steps to the door she was standing beside.

"Afternoon, Mister Utonium! Your children's been lovely today," Miss Keane returned the greeting.

"Really? You mean there's nothing out of the ordinary?" the professor questioned vaguely, eyebrow raised. He'd been worried for the past six hours, every minute, that something was going to happen, that the Girls would accidentally or purposefully activate their powers for fun and laughter. He'd dreaded what would happen if they'd done that in a room full of normal children.

"No, like what?" Miss Keane answered, knowing full well what the professor meant, but keeping her awareness to herself. "Your girls were perfect! Perfect, normal little girls."

The professor couldn't help but to stare at her. It was all in the way she said it, how she seemed to have overcompensated for her claims. As if she knew something. Miss Keane stared back, then chuckled.

"That's great, Miss Keane. I'm glad I put my Girls in your care," the professor said, preferring to drop the matter. 'I think I've been cooped up in The House for too long,' he reasoned his paranoia away. His car started honking soon after. He looked back at it, and saw that Selicia had been pressing the horn, hurrying him to get a move on. "Well, I better get going. Thanks again!"

"No problem," Miss Keane said, almost sung to herself those words. It was a tense moment, when she thought that her little secret with the USDO would be prematurely revealed. The pistol in her vest had started feeling far too heavy.

"What was that about?" Selicia questioned the professor the moment he returned to the driver's seat.

"Just asking a few questions, that's all," Professor Utonium said vaguely. What he didn't mention was that he had asked questions he didn't want his Girls to answer.

They were on the way back home soon after that.

"So, what did the three of you learn today?" the professor asked the Girls, who had been chatting among themselves cheerfully, carefree compared to the days before.

"Miss Keane taught us the ABCs!" Blossom exclaimed excitedly. "And I can make words out of them! I can spell my own name!"

"Can I hear it?" Selicia said.

"It's B-L-O-S-S-O and M!" Blossom recited. "Did I spell that right, Daddy?"

"Perfectly, sweetheart. What about the two of you?" the professor asked of the other Girls. Looking at the rear-view mirror, he noticed that Bubbles was bouncing on her seat, but Buttercup had taken to glaring out the window, as if she was going to burn a hole through the door with her eyes alone. Her arms were folded tightly as she leaned against the door.

"I know how to spell my name too!" Bubbles volunteered. "Ooh, ooh, can I spell it? Can I spell it?"

"So shoot," Selicia was almost ordering the bubbly girl. For some reason, she was a little less enthused to hear from her.

"B-U-B-L… E… S?" Bubbles recited, and the further she went along her name, the less confident she became. Something was wrong.

"You're missing a B, Bubbles," Selicia corrected bluntly.

"Oh," Bubbles replied.

"It's B-U-B-B-L-E-S, Bub," the professor corrected.

"I'm sorry," Bubbles apologized, looking a little down. It was a reminder of her own shortcoming - something Miss Keane was able to skilfully avoid the mention of. In the eyes of the teacher, Bubbles was already a quick study by the standards of the class, but within the family, she was at the bottom of the totem.

"Don't be, honeysuckle. It's why you're in school," the professor comforted her. "What about you, Buttercup? Do you know how to spell your name?"

"I don't want to spell my name," Buttercup retorted, still staring out the window. She hated this, hated how Blossom had become the centre of attention again. And now that the subject of names had been brought up, she couldn't help but to remember her very first minutes in this world - which was tainted by the professor's disregard for her.

"Why not? It's a beautiful name," the professor countered. He had all but forgotten the reason why he gave Buttercup her name, or rather, the lack of reason why. In his mind, it was a beautiful name, and that was the end of that.

"It's meaningless," Buttercup said in a hateful tone, her eyes no longer burning, but… Something else. This time, the professor found it hard to read, and that scared him. He had always known how his Girls felt just by their look, and it wasn't a difficult feat.

"Buttercup, darling, every name has a meaning-" Selicia tried to help, but Buttercup would not have it.

"You don't know anything, Mommy," Buttercup said callously. "You weren't there."

"Buttercup!" Professor Utonium had started off raising his voice, but cooled it when he realized that shouting at the ravenette could just make things worse. What Buttercup said had jogged his memory. "Buttercup-"

"No, it's fine. She's right. I wasn't there," Selicia said. "I'm sorry."

"Buttercup, do you love me?" Professor Utonium asked earnestly. The green-eyed girl rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Dad, of course," Buttercup replied positively.

"And I gave you that name. Doesn't that mean something?" the professor tried to reason with the brooding little girl.

"Pfff… I guess," Buttercup agreed, sort of.

"You know, it's the name of a flower too, Buttercup," Selicia added, trying to cheer the girl up.

"It is?" Buttercup said, somewhat surprised, but not enough to distract her from the idea she had that she was given a second-rate name because the attention her father gave her was second best, or, next to Blossom and Bubbles, third best. Professor Utonium took a glance at the rear-view mirror again, but all he saw was an alarming lack of youthful sparkle.

"So, what else did you learn in class today?" the professor tried to change the subject and perhaps Buttercup's mood.

"The 123s, I guess, but we already knew that stuff," Buttercup moaned her response.

"She made it easier for us to remember it. We sung a song about it," Bubbles added, but she sounded more like she was defending school from Buttercup than she was recalling happy memories from their first day. "I like singing."

"Yeah, and Miss Keane said that we have 'natural singing voices'," Blossom said further. "Buttercup too, right, Buttercup?"

"Yeah," Buttercup said curtly, not liking the idea of even speaking to Blossom after how she took the limelight. It was all better back in Kindergarten, when equal numbers of children would flock to each of them, and Miss Keane knew how to distribute her attention to twenty students all at once.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 1334.

When they were wheeling up to their House, there were multiple vans parked up front, all marked with the new eagle and shield symbol of the USDO. They did not look like security, due to the lack of shaded windows and the civilian make of the vehicles. Coming up to the door, Professor Utonium and his family opened it, to find men and women walking up and down the house, from the first to second story, and the basement. They were all in work clothes, jumpsuits and construction helmets.

In the living room stood Wiggums, the Chief of Logistics. Professor Utonium approached him. "Wiggums? What's going on?"

"Oh hi, Thomas," Wiggums turned and greeted. He noticed only too late that he was with his family, and he had slipped up with the name, but went with the flow. "And hello, Girls. Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup and um…"

"Selicia Goodwin," the security officer introduced herself. At least Buttercup found it bizarre that a friend of her father knew nothing about his wife. Blossom was beginning to get the same impressions as her wayward sister. Bubbles, meanwhile, just liked having friendly faces around.

"Well? Why are all these men tromping around in our House?" the professor questioned his estranged friend again.

"You mean other than delivering extra sets of uniforms and gear? We're installing some stuff, important stuff that's going to help the Girls save Townsville," Wiggums explained. He lead the family to a phone in the living room, which had a corner to itself. It was an odd thing, a colorful clown-faced phone that wouldn't look out of place in a kid's room. It even looked almost non-functional, with no dial pad at all. The receiver was red against the white body of a feminine-eyed, red-nosed clown impression. "A little brainwave I had, you know, since it practically belongs to the Girls." He scratched his head and adjusted his ponytail before explaining further. "We've installed a phone in all major locations throughout the house. There's one more on the second floor corridor, in their room and down in the lab."

Wiggums brought them to the Girls' room, where the clown phone was situated near the windows, and had its own pedestal. Unhooking the brick-like mobile phone on his belt, he dialed a certain cryptic number and waited a few seconds. The phone started ringing like a buzzer: "Brzzz! Brzzz! Brzzz!" and the nose, which was actually a warning light, started flashing red.

"Cool!" Buttercup exclaimed. The Girls had gone over to the clown phone and started obsessing over it.

"It used to be louder, and Blackwater wanted me to install sirens throughout The House as well, but I talked him out of it. You can hear the buzzing throughout the entire House," Wiggums said, and took him out to prove it. They could hear it in the corridor, in every room upstairs, faint when behind a door, but clearly audible. Downstairs, the buzzing continued. "Only sirens I installed are in the backyard and lawn, but they sound just the same."

"Sure, Wiggums, but who's calling?" the professor asked.

"It'll probably be the your friends in the speed convoy," Wiggums said, while his eyes and finger was pointed to Selicia. "From what I gather, the boys in those Lamborghini gets the call from any senior officials in the City, and they'll call the Girls."

"And how did you 'gather' this?" Professor Utonium interrogated.

"I've been handing out those shiny new flip-phones to them. I'm envious," the Chief of Logistics said, holding up his brick-sized mobile phone. "It's way better than this club. Speaking of flip-phones, I'm supposed to issue each of you one of those too, in case you guys were out like the perfect American Dream family you are."

They went back inside, and sat around the dining table. Wiggum's workers had already left the phones on the table. There were ten of them, five of which were redundant. They were brandless, likely covertly ordered from the most cutting-edge of cell phone manufacturers. Wiggum pulled a box from the centre of the table and opened it. "I've already installed the microchip that will slave the phone to a number." He flipped open the device, pulled a small antenna out and pressed a button. The small digital screen lit up. The device wasn't even as big as a handheld radio, and it wouldn't be some time before the public could purchase such a wondrous piece of technology at an affordable price. He began demonstrating the use of the phone. How to access the many different functions of the phone, how to call and send messages, how to charge it. He had already saved some phone numbers into the phones, linking them all together and with the speed convoy PTF soldiers. He even showed them how to access the only game in the phone - Snakes, a simple thing about a long box eating pixels to increase a number in the corner, causing the long box, the 'snake', to grow longer, until it became harder for the 'snake' to get over itself. Collision meant starting over. The Girls began playing it voraciously.

"Forty-seven… This is for you, Blossom. Forty-eight, so Buttercup and forty-nine, so Bubbles. Sixty-three and sixty-four should be for you and Selicia then," he said, handing out the phones.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 1751.

Buttercup stood against Blossom, both their arms raised before them in a defensive posture. They were both dressed in their SWAT gear, and on top of that. When the former rushed the latter, Blossom tried to grab Buttercup's punching arm, but she was too fast. She was hit squarely in the chest, sending her flying a few yards away, even when Buttercup had already 'pulled back' on her punch, though in the usual Buttercup fashion, her definition of 'pulling back' was a little loose.

"Buttercup! What did I tell you!" Selicia chided routinely, but the green-eyed Girl did little more than apologize halfheartedly. She was enjoying it, hurting her own sister. It felt like vengeance for all the times Blossom stole Daddy from her. Of course, she didn't tell that to anyone. She would just say that she'd had trouble holding back most of her strength because of how strong she was. "And Blossom, please, for the third time, stay mobile! You're not a tree, you're a super-powered little girl! Try again, the both of you!" Meanwhile, Bubbles sat in the sidelines, looking like she was about to be examined for a black belt in Karate even though nothing much was expected of her yet.

Buttercup and Blossom returned to their original position on the lab floor once more, putting their arms up and spreading their feet on the two dimensions of the floor for extra balance. Buttercup, who had thus far enjoyed success using the same old tactic of brute force, did the same thing again, rushing Blossom with a power-packed and intimidating punch. This time, Blossom tried to do as Mommy had instructed, trying to sidestep the blow and seize Buttercup by the arm despite her fear of her sister's brutality, but Buttercup had tracked Blossom's sideways movement and she homed in for the punch all the same.

Blossom flew a few yards away again, though not as far this time, and when she was down, Buttercup launched a flurry of punches at Blossom, her famous 'machinegun punches' move. Blossom could block a few of it, but not all of it.

"Stop!" Selicia ordered, and Buttercup stepped away from Blossom. But the security officer did nothing this time to chastise Buttercup; besides, whenever she did, it was largely for appearances. She had decided that Buttercup was her favorite. She was in love with her, how tenacious she was, how strong and detached she was from her emotions. Selicia had even gone on to think that Buttercup's attitude was something even she could look up to, as she had spent many years to even begin to approach the little girl's ruthlessness. She couldn't help but to think that, had she been this way younger, her childhood would have been salvageable.

Selicia marched up to Blossom, who was just scrambling to her feet. She seized Blossom by the arm and pulled her up – she deserved that much. At the very least, Blossom was persistent, and her intelligence was nothing to scoff at even if she could be a bit of an insufferable know-it-all and snotty little snob in the woman's eyes. Bubbles, on the other hand, reminded her of everything she hated in girls. Herself. Selicia's extreme girlishness was what sealed her in a never-ending cycle of abuse and bullying and victimhood in her youth. And here was Bubbles, with her God-given superpowers, acting dainty despite her ability to wipe out an army of abusive men.

"Is it really that hard to outwit your sister?" Selicia said to Blossom. No, this would not do. As much as she wanted to continue favoring her little Buttercup, Blossom's repeated defeat at her hands wouldn't teach her anything. Putting her mouth close to Blossom's ear and covering it with a hand, she whispered more tips to the red-haired girl. Buttercup did not expect this, and in the heat of the moment, didn't use her secret enhanced hearing. "Fade to the left this time, and mirror your moves by using your left hand first. I know you're ambidextrous, Blossom. You can do it."

Blossom and Buttercup returned to their original position once more. Flushed with victory four times over, Buttercup was ecstatic. Saliva dripped from a corner of her mouth as she stared hungrily at Blossom, wishing, more than anything else, to pummel her once more. She grinned maniacally as she charged Blossom once more, this time her posture sloppy as she did a long wind-up of her right arm.

Following Selicia's advice, Blossom changed the direction of her dodge to the left, and when Buttercup's expression changed from psychotic smirk to surprise, she seized her by the arm and pulled her to the ground. Twisting Buttercup's arm around her back, Blossom got on top of Buttercup, who, while kicking and screaming, tried to pull her arm away, but Blossom's arm lock was perfectly executed. There was no getting out of that one.

"Gotcha, sister!" Blossom said triumphantly, a smile spreading on her lips as she twisted Buttercup's arm more, getting her to grunt and squeal more. She couldn't resist a little payback for the four times she was floored so violently.

"That's not fair!" Buttercup grunted on the floor, her voice sounded squashed with Blossom on top of her.

Selicia came up to them, clapping her hands.

"That's my Blossom!" Professor yelled proudly from his desk.

"Well done, Blossom. You can get off poor Buttercup now," she said. Blossom obeyed without a question and let go of Buttercup, who sat up, looking harassed. "Let this be your lesson, Buttercup darling. Brute force alone isn't enough!" As much as she loved Buttercup so much, she simply couldn't agree with the doctrine the wayward girl had been nursing for weeks. It was one thing to be ruthless, another to be tactically simple and predictable.

"It sure was enough the last four times!" Buttercup countered, and got to her feet, priming to start again. She didn't like it that Blossom had actually won her in her own game, in something she liked to do very much. She didn't like it one bit. After all, she had already taken away everything else. "Let me try again, Mom! I'll floor her ten times over! And I'll do it before dinner!"

"Maybe tomorrow, Buttercup, it's Bubbles' turn," Selicia said. Much as she hate to take away what she wanted, she had to look after Bubbles as well – and Bubbles was in dire straits compared to them.

"But-" Buttercup 's insistence was cut short by Mommy's own.

"Tomorrow, Buttercup. But I think you're not hearing me right. Because you get to go up against Bubbles next," Selicia said, and she couldn't help but to grin. She relished the chance to correct a mistake she wasn't able to erase all those years ago – through Bubbles. She was going to do whatever it took to beat the overabundance of innocence out of her. The security officer then motioned for Bubbles to come forward. Bubbles took dainty steps towards her Mom and sisters. "Bubbles, it's your turn now. I want you to try and attack Buttercup."

"Um, Mom, shouldn't Bubbles and I do this together? Buttercup's too tough for Bubbles," Blossom tried to speak up for her timid sister.

"Girls, when you're out there, you don't get to decide who you're attacking and who's attacking you. You shouldn't expect that here either," Selicia said. She gently nudged at Blossom to take a seat. Blossom went to the sidelines. Professor Utonium watched intently, now afraid for Bubbles.

Selicia backed away, and Buttercup and Bubbles got into position, facing each other. And they waited. And waited. Selicia marched up to them. "Bubbles, what on Earth are you waiting for?"

"But Mom… I don't want to hit Buttercup! She's my sister!" Bubbles whined.

"Oh, don't worry about me, Bubbles," Buttercup said menacingly, her unnerving smile returning as she was anticipating greater pleasure from facing off with Bubbles. "I'll be fine."

"See, Bubbles? Buttercup'll be fine," Mommy said, even though she knew what Buttercup meant. It was all but certain that Buttercup would wipe the floor with Bubbles.

"But Mom-" Bubbles persisted, her arms already down. Her persistence infuriated Selicia.

"Buttercup, if Bubbles doesn't attack you in ten seconds, punch her," the woman said to her favorite before turning her back and getting to the sidelines.

Even with this ultimatum, and despite it, Bubbles shrank away from Buttercup even more. It was different from pushing a football sled into a wall, or striking the head of a dummy. This was her sister, her family, and family members don't fight.

"Bubbles, what are you waiting for?" Buttercup whispered to her sister even as her fists we're up, and trembling from her anticipation for glorious violence. She could almost feel for her. Almost. "Don't you want to hit me? Like what I did to you in the theater?"

"But… I forgave you," Bubbles said, her fists trembling from fear as well, though it was a fear at the thought of violence. Her fists sank, as they weren't going to hit anyone.

Buttercup rushed forward and delivered a punch that went straight for Bubbles' chest. Bubbles threw her arms in front of her more from shock than skill. She felt a jab in her lower ribs after that, which sent her rolling yards away. Buttercup returned her foot to the floor. She had given Bubbles a side-kick, something she'd been itching to try since Mommy had taught her that new move an hour ago.

Bubbles sat up almost immediately, clutching her kidney, her face screwed up in agony. Buttercup did not let up. Taking rapid steps, she tried to punt Bubbles across the face, but Bubbles had thrown up an arm again.

"Stop! Buttercup! Just stop!" it wasn't Selicia shouting, but Professor Utonium, who was running forward to the Girls. Selicia put out a hand to stop him. "What are you doing, Selicia!?"

"Bubbles need to learn, darling. I'd rather it sooner with us rather than later with the monsters out there!" Selicia said. Professor Utonium tried to get past his 'wife', but she was far too strong for him.

However, Buttercup did stop hitting Bubbles at least. She had seen her father's face, and if nothing else, Daddy was God, and she didn't want to upset the one she loved.

"Thomas darling, I know how you feel. I feel it too but it's all for the best," Selicia said, and she wasn't exactly lying. She did feel something for Bubbles, even if it wasn't as much as the love she had for Buttercup. Professor Utonium continued to struggle for a time, but eventually gave up.

Blossom, however, had slipped past Selicia while she was busy with her 'husband', and the wisest of the three Girls got up to her sisters. "Bubbles, are you okay?"

Bubbles did not reply. Instead, she'd erupted in tears, sinking to the floor and crying there on her side. It was all too much for her; the violence, fighting between family, even if it was all simulated – 'Why can't everyone just play with dolls all day long?' was a thought that kept repeating in her head, and it didn't just apply to her family, but the wide world. She simply couldn't understand the need for punching and kicking.

Blossom extended a hand, and when Bubbles wouldn't take it, she reached for Bubbles' hand instead. Selicia left the professor behind as he sank to his knees, and ran up to Blossom, slapping her hand away with all her might, knowing that the Girls were (relatively) resistant to pain.

"Ow! Mom! Why did you do that!?" Blossom exclaimed sharply.

"Don't help Bubbles up!" Selicia hissed at Blossom.

"But why not? She's down on the floor," Blossom said.

"Let her learn how to get up on her own," Selicia explained, before turning to the blue-eyed Girl on the floor. "Bubbles, get up. On your feet."

It was as if Bubbles did not hear her, or didn't want to. Getting up would mean starting it all over again, fighting with Buttercup, using violence.

Time passed, and Selicia has had it. Winding up her leg, she booted Bubbles across the bum, sending her sliding a foot or two on the floor. Bubbles sat up, shrinking away from Mommy as she took steps closer to her. Reluctantly, the timid little girl in SWAT suit got up, holding an arm with her other hand as tears continued to pour down her face.

"Bubbles, stop crying. You don't deserve to cry," Selicia scolded her adopted daughter. She grabbed her by an arm and shook her again. "Seriously, stop crying like a baby! You lil'-" Selicia had almost swore in front of the Girls, stopping herself just short of it.

"Mom, stop, please!" Bubbles cried as she tore herself away from her. But Selicia was thinking of the opposite of that.

"Buttercup, Blossom, I think the two of you are done down here. Go up and get your dinner. Bubbles and I are going to have a little talk," Selicia said. Blossom stood rooted to the ground, afraid for Bubbles. She had all the enhanced abilities in the world, and yet she felt helpless in this situation. Buttercup had to pull Blossom away, until she eventually relented. "And take your father with you!"

Professor Utonium was just as helpless; it was a conundrum harder than nuclear physics. The impossibility of it all was paralyzing, as if he was a King on a chess board, checkmated by his opponent, and Selicia was just another piece, not necessarily against him. He had always pampered the Girls, but even he knew that treating the Girls like royalty alone wouldn't help them when they were out there in Townsville, AKA Crimesville. He abhorred the measures Selicia took to train Bubbles, and yet, knowing how naturally pacifistic and overly good-natured Bubbles was, it seemed like the only way. And the clock was ticking - Silverslick had already plunged Bubbles deep down on his rating system, and all it would take for his blue-eyed daughter to go beyond the point of no return was a few more missteps and failures.

When Blossom and Buttercup each held one of the professor's hands and led him away, he could do nothing but follow his less-troubled daughters.

"Alright, let's try something else," Selicia said as she was bent down, holding Bubbles by her chin with one hand. "Why don't you try and hit me."

Bubbles shook her head. "No!" she cried. "I don't want to I l-l-love-"

"YOU LOVE ME?" Selicia screamed at Bubbles, who shook as if a lightning struck nearby. "You barely even know me, Bubbles."

"But you're my Mommy," Bubbles cried.

Selicia unclasped Bubbles' helmet and took it off, tossing the kevlar aside. "Hit me. Now. Listen to Mommy."

"N-no, please," Bubbles cried. "I'll hurt you."

"If that's what it takes. Hit me."

Bubbles did not, but instead stood stock-still, her hands folded on her tummy.

"And what if I hit you? Are you going to hit me now?" Selicia snarled, raising a hand, threatening exactly to strike her. Bubbles stared at her hand, afraid, but shook her head. To Selicia, this was infuriating. As a kid, she had read comic books depicting superheroes and superheroines, and for a long time, she had wished for their powers, if only to punish her parents for mistreating her. Bubbles was living her dream, and yet she refused to use what she had been blessed with - and it wasn't as if her abilities were to be used for evil.

Selicia's palm whipped across the air, landing hard on Bubbles' cheek, sailing across it at such a force that it would have knocked out a baby tooth had Bubbles been a normal child. Instead, it'd only knocked Bubbles off her feet with no injuries. "Hit me, darling. Or I will keep hitting you. And believe me, it's worse out there!"

Bubbles' solution to her proposition was a renewed stream of tears.

Upstairs, the rest of the family wasn't eating. The food smelled tasteless owing to what they knew was happening below.

"I can't take this anymore!" the professor shouted, half-crazed, before running towards the lab airlock, leaving Blossom and Buttercup behind at the dining table.

The professor could hear Selicia's mad screaming and Bubbles' whimpers from the stairs to the lab. Skipping two or three steps at a time, he flew down the stairs quickly; the only thing on his mind was to put a stop to Bubbles' suffering as soon as possible.

"C'mon, hit me! I know you want to hit me, so hit me!" he could hear Selicia bellowing, followed by the sound of whipping and flesh hitting flesh.

At the last flight of stairs, the professor could see what was happening. Bubbles was on the floor. 'Was that blood on her lips? How could it be possible?' his mind screamed bloody murder. He later discovered that Bubbles had bit herself when Selicia had slapped her one too many times.

"Selicia, stop!" the professor screamed. He dropped another few more steps, but in his haste and focus on Bubbles' welfare, had landed wrongly on his right foot. He went tumbling down the stairs.

"Dad!" Bubbles cried, and ran at top speed to him, catching him before he went all the way down. Still, the damage was done. Selicia stood where she was, shocked. How did things turn out so wrong? When all she had were the best of intentions? Honestly, she had expected Bubbles to break quickly, but she had remained surprisingly stubborn throughout, more so than Buttercup.

The day did not get any better after that. Dinner was eaten in silence. Playtime after dinner lacked the usual laughter. Instead of doing anything 'fun', the Girls had spent their playtime on Miss Keane's homework instead: a general chart of the human anatomy, made easy by a poster she'd printed for each of them which simplified things.

At bedtime, an argument erupted in the professor's bedroom as parent screamed at parent, and the Girls were right outside when it happened. Buttercup could hear it best, and numerous unpleasant things were spoken. Numerous lies were uncovered.

It was then that Buttercup learned that they were 'accidents', and that because of that, they weren't 'exactly custom-designed to fight crime' at all. At least, that was all she learned before she tuned out, out of shock.

Selicia would stomp out after that, but long after the Girls had retreated to their bedrooms at super-speed. Going down the stairs and to the living room, the security officer crashed on the couch there to sleep through the night instead.

Bubbles, whose waterworks had been leaky ever since she was down at the labs, took her place in the professor's bed. Father and adopted daughter fell asleep clinging to each other to weather through this dark time - and the real storm hadn't even arrived yet.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40: Voices in the Night

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

12 DEC 1988 (Monday). 2325.

Selicia tipped a can of cold beer, finishing half of it in one gulp. She was sitting on the floor, in her red night gown, nestled between the sofa and the coffee table. A natural defensive reaction, perhaps, after what had happened. Beside her were another two empty cans, half-crushed and carelessly thrown. The coffee table hosted what remained of a six pack, and she intended to finish it all up. Her supposed husband, who was supposed to have her back, was a teetotaller for the most part, and the beer and wine that Wiggums had stocked the fridge with at the beginning of this 'next phase of Project Powerpuff' had remained untouched.

To say that her incident with Bubbles hadn't affected her would be a lie - she was well aware of how much pain she had caused, both to Bubbles and Thomas, and she was just as aware that she was becoming exactly like how her parents were. Her father would often whip her with his belt, slap her or straight-up beat her up. Her mother suffered some of the same fate, and would join in sometimes. But she also knew the difference between she and her parents - they did it out of hate, seeing her as a drain on their bank account, an unwanted byproduct of their relationship and a no-good child with no good talents. Selicia thought that she was doing the right thing - after all, wasn't that how the military and police train their personnel? It was either Bubbles suffer now, or get buried in an early grave later - it was an unshakable logic to her, and yet…

She was a mess now. Whatever water she'd drink had gone through her eyes. It seemed as if her time in this 'perfect family' was done, and there was no way out of the hole she had to dug under herself, for the sake of Bubbles – she had dug her own early grave for the sake of who? Her least favorite of the three children of Project Powerpuff? 'What a tactical genius you are, Goodwin. Good fucking win, Selicia,' she thought to herself derisively.

"Mom?" a young, feminine voice called out in the dark. Selicia turned to the source of it, her vision blurry from being inebriated. She recognized that voice, but her brain wasn't exactly greased very well by alcohol.

"Buttercup?" Selicia slurred, horrified of being discovered like this. She'd thought that the Girls were asleep. In her state, she hadn't thought of how what appeared to be her abuse of Bubbles could have changed the family's habits. She scrambled to sit up higher and straighter, perhaps get up on the couch, but there was just too much alcohol in her system.

"Mom, are you okay?" Buttercup asked, her voice sounding somewhat concerned, at least as much as Buttercup could sound that way. The tomboy came closer, and saw for herself the mess Selicia was in. The TV, which broadcasted only static, had lit the area around them well enough.

"Don't look at me, Buttercup, please," Selicia begged her favorite, ashamed of the position she'd put herself in. Buttercup did the exact opposite, depositing herself beside her, sliding under her arms and resting her head on her shoulder. "I've messed up, Buttercup."

"I don't understand, Mom," Buttercup said.

"I've hurt Bubbles, and now your father hates me, and I don't know if I can stay in this house anymore," Selicia cried, which stunned Buttercup. The young girl hadn't seen a lot of adults cry before, either because they'd hidden the fact well or they'd long run away to avoid being seen crying. Neither could she imagine a House without Mom, now that she had found her niche in it. "All I wanted to do was to help your sister, I guess I've done it all wrong and I don't know how else to do it and-" Selicia cried too much and couldn't speak any further.

"But you didn't do anything wrong, Mom," Buttercup contended, and without lying, too. "Bubbles deserve to be beaten up for being that way. I don't know what Daddy sees in her. She's so useless."

"You really think so?" Selicia said as she wiped away her tears. It felt comforting that at least one other family member could still appreciate her.

"Yeah. I think it would be a lot better if Blossom and Bubbles didn't exist," Buttercup confessed. "They're always taking Daddy away from me, and they don't deserve him as much as I do."

"What about me? Do you want me around?" Selicia asked, this time just out of pure and personal gratification.

"You're the greatest, Mom," Buttercup said as she hugged her mother tightly. "You're cool, and- and- you taught me how to fight, and even Daddy couldn't do that. And I like your hair."

"It's yours too, you know," Selicia said as she caressed Buttercup's hair, which was styled after her own. "Thank you, sweetie. But Buttercup?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't talk like that about your sisters again," Selicia said. "You may be the toughest among them, but you still need them, even Bubbles. Blossom's smart and Bubbles-"

"What would I need Bubbles for? She's useless! She's stupid and weak and-" Buttercup exclaimed.

"Buttercup, listen to Mommy, okay?" Selicia said, her voice still shaking. She tried to think of something, but couldn't quite put her finger on it. It didn't help that she couldn't think straight because of what she'd been drinking. So she'd just reach for her closest, more instinctual thoughts, and Bubbles really did seem useless. "Bubbles- She- Maybe she'll come around sooner or later. She has to. Besides, with Bubbles around, you'll know for sure you're the best, right?"

"Right…" Buttercup concurred, with a smirk spreading on her face, and she could imagine what Mommy meant. Bubbles' uselessness, when compared to her aptitude in combat, would make her look good. Besides, it meant that there would always be easy pickings whenever they fought down in the lab. It felt good, having someone inferior close by that she could push around and assert her dominance.

Selicia and Buttercup sat in the living room for a while, enjoying each other's company, being close to one another. "Is Daddy really going to chase you out of the House?" Buttercup asked.

"I don't know," Selicia slurred. "We'll have to see." She fell asleep after that. Buttercup did not. The lack of positiveness and finality in her last words for the night didn't sit well with her.

"Mom? Mom!" Buttercup tried to shake her mother awake, but Selicia was completely out. For a while, Buttercup sat by her side, alone once more, despite being beside her mother, despite The House having five occupants. The uncertainty stewed in her, the fear of losing one of the two she loved (and no, they weren't her sisters) preyed on her undisciplined, insecure mind.

She needed a distraction.

Walking up to the front door, she tried to open it, but found it stuck fast. She examined the door. Locks. Not just one of them, but two of them. Probably installed by Daddy to prevent them from leaving. But if Buttercup could figure out how to shoot herself in the chest with a pistol on her own, a door wasn't a problem. Reaching for the first one, she pulled at it, but it wouldn't slide. The lever was an L-shape. So she lifted it and slid it to the left successfully.

The second lock was out of her reach. Afraid that getting a chair would produce too much noise or leave her with too little time to react and hide her activities if she was discovered, She pulled herself up by the door knob one-handed, ascending within reach of the lock and unlocked the door.

Donning her coat, she went outside into the freezing winter cold and searched for her first kill. She had fond memories of it, how she silenced the cat quick and permanently when it threatened her, despite her trying to be nice to it.

She remembered that it was somewhere in the bushes, under a snow mound. Yes, yes! There it was! Buttercup started digging, exhuming the little feline grave she'd made.

And there it was. The cat was still there, well-preserved by the bitter cold. Its fur was orange, and it reminded her of Blossom's beautiful, cascading waist-length hair. The comparison made her consider killing her sisters, Blossom and Bubbles, and taking Daddy and Mommy for herself. Without Blossom, Daddy would always be hers forever, and without Bubbles, Daddy wouldn't be mad at Mommy.

"Should I?" she asked the dead cat, but she was really asking herself. When she realized what she had been doing, she chided herself for such an act of madness, and sat beside the dead cat, leaning against the wall. She was just too preoccupied with her family to even play with her carcass.

"Buttercup…" a strange voice called out to her, right out of the blue and in the dark, that even Buttercup could feel a shiver down her spine upon hearing it, and it wasn't the cold that tingled her. The troubled little girl looked all around her, trying to find out where the speaker was. But there was no one around, and it wasn't because she couldn't see. Far from it.

"Buttercup…" the voice whispered to her again. A strange voice that spoke in a feminine, yet male voice - ethereal and dreamy.

"W-who's there?" Buttercup warned her shadow onlooker - wherever he was.

"Down here, Buttercup…" the voice said again, this time the direction much more clearer, and it did indeed came from below her.

It'd come from the cat.

And when she was looking down at the cat, it lifted its head rigidly to regard its murderer. Buttercup stared at it, her heart racing, her quickened breath obvious in the wind because of the misting. "Should you what... Buttercup?"

Buttercup fell on her butt when she realized that the cat carcass had talked. "Y-you can talk?"

"Why yes… Yes… Aren't I talking now, darling girl?" the dead cat said, eyes still pinned on her, those almond, slit eyes below a cracked skull.

"But how?" Buttercup asked the dead cat, still conscious of how wrong it all felt.

"Hmm… I suppose you're the one to ask that question? When you can run at the speed of a car and hear the drop of a pin from a mile away?" the cat countered Buttercup's question with another, defeating her quickly. "Why the glum face, Buttercup?"

"It's just- Dad and Mom had a fight, and it's all because of that stupid Bubbles!" Buttercup cried. She could feel ice forming on her cheek. "Now I'm scared that I'm going to lose Mom. And she's cool and stuff."

"But what about your Daddy, honeypot? Isn't he enough?" the cat said.

"He's always spending time with Blossom and Bubbles, those… Those…" Buttercup hissed, but she couldn't find a strong enough word for them.

"SLUTS? WHORES?" the cat completed her sentence for her with such hatred that it'd shaken Buttercup.

"Yeah, yeah!" Buttercup agreed, though she didn't quite know what those words meant. "I wish I can be alone with Daddy…"

"Does that have something to do with your first question?" the cat inquired.

"I was thinking of killing Blossom and Bubbles, but…" Buttercup hesitated.

"But?"

"I know that Daddy will hate me for it, and Mom doesn't want me to," Buttercup said. "So do you think I should?"

"Of course not, YOU-! Silly little honey bunny…" the cat suddenly yelled, but calmed down quickly. It'd raised an eyebrow with Buttercup, but she quickly dismissed it as a quirk associated with dead cats that had come alive all of a sudden. She could imagine that being killed and buried under a sheet of cold snow for more than two weeks would be an unpleasant experience. "Just… Not yet. But yes… Yes… You should kill them. After all, they are bad sisters for what they've done to you and your life. Yes... They are evil for hoarding all that fatherly love to themselves... Just… Not… Yet. There will be a time and place for that. But the question is… Do you really love your Dad? Is he even that good a father to begin with? Just some questions, Buttercup… that you should be asking yourself…"

"But... Dad has always been good to me. He's always there for me…" Buttercup said, but then it slowly dawned on her that her preconceptions about her father might be more idealized fantasy and wishful thinking than reality.

"Is he?" the cat reinforced her epiphany. "I might have lived a short life, but I know for a fact that a good father does not ostracize his child, even if he has more than one…"

"But- He- Daddy's not-" Buttercup stuttered, not liking the implications. If Daddy wasn't good, then who would be?

"He'd hurt you, hadn't he? I can tell… Think of all those times he'd swept you aside, wound you gravely with his words... A good father would never do that…" the cat continued assailing Buttercup's impression of Professor Utonium.

"No! He can't be bad! He can't be! You're wrong!" Buttercup resisted, covering her ears as she shook her head. But the whispers would not go away.

"I don't expect you to take it well. Bad news can be bitter pills to swallow… Take your time with it, Buttercup. Think about what I said… After all, I'm only looking out for you…" the cat said, with a tone of finality, his voice somehow still loud and clear even when Buttercup was covering her ears. It was as if the cat's voice was coming from inside her. She stopped covering her ears. The cat had only been looking out for her. Surely that couldn't be a bad thing?

"Even after I killed you?" Buttercup said.

"Oh, it's just a minor inconvenience. I don't mind," the cat said in a trivial manner, as if death was inconsequential. At this point, it now seemed that way, considering that a dead cat could speak to her.

"Thank you," Buttercup said.

"Don't mention it, but most important of all… Don't forget to bury me. The others won't understand you the way I do. I'll see you again, yes?" the cat said.

"Why not? Bye-bye, kitty!" Buttercup promised. The cat laid its head back down on its snowy deathbed, and before she knew it, it was back to how it was. The little girl covered it back up, as the cat had suggested she do.

Later, when she returned to bed after putting her mother on the couch and covering her with a blanket, kissing her goodnight, she couldn't fall asleep for the life of her. After all, she was lying down beside a very special little girl. A little girl so special that she had overshadowed Buttercup entirely. Getting up and lying on her side, propping her head up as she stared down at Blossom, she who slept in the centre, took the centre stage in the family, and had everything handed to her, Buttercup couldn't help but to entertain the few ideas she had on how to kill her. Because why not? It was the perfect opportunity, with Bubbles (the other special little girl) sleeping in Daddy's room and no one else in hers.

Perhaps she could punch her as many times as she could in the head before she could react? No, that would be too unreliable and messy. Steal her father's duranium scalpel and plunge it into her neck? But where would she even begin to find the surgical knife? Then again, it could be traced back to her. Perhaps simply choke her for as long as it would take for her to asphyxiate, be it ten minutes, or fifteen, or twenty? Yes, yes, that'd be the ticket! It wouldn't leave behind a mess, and all she had to say was that she didn't know Blossom had died! No, that wouldn't work either; she'd fight back, and then there'd be too much noise.

During this time, she couldn't help but to wander back to the cat's advice. 'Not yet,' it'd said. 'There is a time and place for killing one's sisters.' Inevitably, this led her back to what Daddy and Mommy thought, what their wishes were. Could she really bring herself to disobey them? No, she couldn't, partly because she knew she'd lose them both if she'd made an attempt on her sisters' lives. There was still too much to think about what the cat said about Daddy, and Mommy was dear to her, as much as anyone could be dear to Buttercup; the woman had earned her respect and showed her how beneficial she was to her.

Buttercup caressed Blossom's hair instead, that luscious, hefty, flowing mop of red river that had impressed so many. The pink-eyed girl had even slept with her bow and hair clip still holding her hair together. Talk about being vain! She then slid her fingers down to her cheek, enjoying the smoothness of her skin. If it was Mommy and Daddy's wish that Blossom be alive, then their wish was her command.

"How lucky you are, Blossom, my dear sister," Buttercup whispered to her sleeping alpha-sister. The red-haired girl mumbled something in her sleep, perhaps in her dreams, as she shifted in bed. She kissed Blossom in the forehead, not as a sign of affection to the sister but as a sign of obedience to her parents, before turning away from her rival sibling.

With her mind made up, Buttercup plopped herself down back on her pillow. At the very least, she'd still have playmates in her room and sparring partners in the lab this way.

Chapter Text

B-47, B-48 and B-49 Lab Activity Report 12121988

DOC: 12 DEC 1988

Created By: Agent Utonium

Chemical X Progress Report

Intro: I have recently begun research on Chemical X again. In the past few days, I have achieved the following.

- Re-established a communication link with my science team at the old HQ. Note: I would like to request that my science team be returned to its original state. With half of them reassigned to other projects, progress will be slowed significantly.

- Secured a stock of raw Chemical X. It helped that Chemical X is stable and does not require special environmental conditions to be kept.

- Secured a stock of stabilizing agents 'Sugar', 'Spice' and 'Everything Nice'.

- Re-examined my old research and documentation.

- Prepared basic equipment for Chemical X experiments.

Experiment X-TH01 (Abridged Report)

Introduction: I have decided to recreate stabilized Chemical X. To this end, I will need raw Chemical X, as well as the necessary stabilizing agents to bring down it's anomalous properties and make it more reactive.

A full, working lab-grade chemistry set is needed for this task, including micro-pipettes that will allow me to draw micrograms of each stabilizing agents and Chemical X itself. For cells to test on, I have procured grass cell samples from the local mall.

Of course, I will need a supply of Chemical X as well as stabilizing agents coded 'Sugar', 'Spice' and 'Everything Nice'.

In order to manufacture stabilized Chemical X, I will need to adhere to the original formula, at least up to the point where JoJo interrupted the experiment. Note to self: Draft new documentation for the formula. Also, I have yet to examine what would happen if I had used the original formula for the theoretically stabilized Chemical X? Would it result in failure, or some other kind of success? It could be material for another experiment.

X-TH01-01 Results

Attempt 1: Failure resulting in malformed blade of grass that expired soon after.

Possible Reason: Excess of 'Everything Nice' by 5 micrograms.

Attempt 2: Failure resulting in cancerous growth and death of a blade of grass.

Possible Reason: Imprecise ratio favoring 'Spice' over 'Everything Nice' by 5 micrograms.

Attempt 3: Failure resulting in a blade of grass shrivelling up and expiring due to rapid cell death.

Possible Reason: Lack of 'Sugar' by 5 micrograms. At this point, it is fair to assume that all biochemical properties of Chemical X remains the same since the lab accident that created my Girls. Precise amounts of 'Sugar', 'Spice' and 'Everything Nice' is needed.

Attempt 4: Failure resulting in malformed blade of grass that expired soon after. Interesting to note is that it took longer for it to die.

Possible Reason: Human error resulting in 1 microgram lack of 'Everything Nice'.

Attempt 5: Failure resulting in cancerous growth and death of a blade of grass.

Possible Reason: Human error resulting in 0.5 microgram excess of 'Spice'.

Intermediate Notes: This is frustrating. My hands are still shaky from exhaustion and disease. I have decided, that, instead of waiting for my recovery, which is assisted by Selicia to my reluctance, or ordering in expensive machines for the job which will take time to arrive due to bureaucratic nonsense, I'll be producing the stabilized Chemical X on a larger scale instead.

The rationale is simple: larger portions mean less requirement for precision. Rather than concentrate on a single, tiny dose of Chemical X which amounts to little more than a few milligrams (at most), I stabilize Chemical X by the liters. Huge quantities are easily measured. The only problem is, what should I do with the excess quantity? My only thought on this is that I could always stockpile the stabilized Chemical X for the day when I might need the quantity.

Attempt 6: 1000ml of stabilized Chemical X produced. 1ml of Stabilized Chemical X has been applied to grass cell sample, resulting in a small mat of grass. Grass has been transferred to a pot of soil. Success. The Chemical-X enhanced grass will be subject to testing, but a quick test with a carbon steel scalpel shows that it is more resilient than normal grass. A lawnmower would break trying to cut it down to size.

Conclusion: I have successfully recreated stabilized Chemical X from raw Chemical X, but without the assistance of the kind of state-of-the-art automated, mechanized lab equipment that the old HQ had, my manufacturing technique has become less precise and flexible. For the time being, it will have to do.

Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 Strength Test 3 Log, 12121988 W3

Subjects Involved:

B-47 (Blossom)

B-48 (Buttercup)

B-49 (Bubbles)

Equipment Used:

1x 600lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 800lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x 1000lbs Steel Weight w/ Handles

1x ECG Machine

1x Medical Kit

3x Strength Test forms

1x Clipboard

Location Used:

The House Laboratory Test Area

Operating Procedure:

- As control has long been established back in Strength Test 1, I will abstain from lifting heavy weights.

- The Girls are to take turns lifting each steel weights.

- The Girls are to be examined for physiological reactions.

- If physiological and behavioral change is observed, time to exhaustion is recorded.

- A rest period of ten minutes is designated between each consecutive weight levels.

- Safety is paramount. Test to stop if any difficulty whatsoever is encountered by the girls.

- Standard first aid procedures is a must.

Test Results:

600lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Felt a kind of pain in her palms, but remarks that it is nothing. Some perspiration sets in. Marginal increase in breathing rate. ECG shows slight increase in heart rate. 10 minutes elapsed before test has been cut.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed. After repeated prompting, admits to feeling 'something' in her hands. Similar level of perspiration, breathing rate and heart rate increase as Blossom. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Complained of pain in her hands. Reluctant to continue testing. Similar level of perspiration, breathing rate and heart rate increase as Buttercup. 10 minutes elapsed before test cut.

Notes: In comparing my notes and hard data on physiological reactions here with that of the previous strength test, I am able to conclude that there is not much difference in physiological reaction between the 500lbs and 600 lbs Steel Weight test. Selicia has been working the Girls out with the 500lbs for the past few days, so it could be that the Girls have been conditioned to carry heavy loads. However, a more in-depth study is required to confirm this.

There are other possible explanations. It could simply be that the Girls are participating in the test 'fresh', having done no heavy duty lift before. The conditions for the 500lbs test was different in that the Girls had to carry the 300lbs and 400lbs Steel Weights before.

800lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. I asked her to give a pain rating between 0 to 10, with 0 being painless and 10 excruciating. She gave a rating of about 2, even after 10 minutes. Perspiration, breathing and heart rate increase marginally from 600lbs.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed. Alleges that her pain rating was 1, but then again, she'd heard Blossom. It could be a 2. Similar physiological reactions as that of Blossom.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Pain rating 4 after 10 minutes. Perspiration, breathing and heart rate increase higher than the other two Girls.

Note: Based on these collected data, it could be possible that their cargo limit could be at 1,500lbs - but of course, that refers to how much they can carry for an extended period of time, of at least 5 to 10 minutes. It is entirely possible for them to lift twice that, but only for seconds to a minute.

1000lbs Steel Weight

B-47 (Blossom): Passed. Pain rating 3. Perspiration, breathing and heart rate increase marginally from 800lbs. 10 minutes elapsed without incident.

B-48 (Buttercup): Passed. Pain rating 2. Perspiration, breathing and heart rate increase marginally from 800lbs. 10 minutes elapsed without incident.

B-49 (Bubbles): Passed. Pain rating 6 after 10 minutes Perspiration increases marginally. Breathing and heart rate increment higher than before. Cried during and after testing and has to be comforted.

Note: Bubbles is able to carry a 1000lbs Steel Weight as ably as Blossom and Buttercup, as shown from how she managed 10 minutes with it. Her physiological reaction could be from mental triggers rather than physical.

Family Car - Sedan (3000lbs est.)

(On the insistence of Buttercup, I've moved the experiment to the garage where the Girls will try to carry the Family Car. They have been instructed to lift the car and set it down carefully and gently. We have a lot of fond memories with the car, and I don't wish it to be damaged)

B-47 (Blossom): Pain rating 8. Huge increase in perspiration, breathing and heart rate. Panting observed. Her palms were red from the effort. Time elapsed: 2 minutes 5 seconds.

B-48 (Buttercup): Pain rating 6, but similarly huge increase in perspiration, breathing and heart rate suggests otherwise. She was panting and visibly shaking and flushed from the effort. Time elapsed, however, is at an extraordinary 4 minutes and 33 seconds.

B-49 (Bubbles): Pain rating 10. Perspiration, breathing and heart rate through the roof. She appears obviously exhausted, panting and sweating rivers and appearing red. Time elapsed: 1 minute 20 seconds, which is still incredible considering that it would take a dozen regular human beings to even attempt such a feat, and they would still find it incredibly difficult.

Note: This is confirmation that the Girls have a strength of over 20 times that of an adult human being or over 60 times that of young girls their physical age, and we haven't approached their absolute limit yet. However, 3000lbs appears to be close to it. It is by no means what I would recommend them to carry for long, however, as it strains them severely. I stand by my earlier statement that 1500lbs remain their recommended carry weight, and even then, the Girls will have to be trained to carry such a weight for lengthy periods of time, if that is even possible or even required.

As for their absolute maximum, I believe 4500lbs to 5000lbs could be it - anything beyond that, and they will end up like me with a 150lbs weight.

Conclusion: Tests still need to be carried out to determine their recommended carry weight, and their absolute maximum. I will be giving them a quick X-ray to detect any damage to their body - I'm particularly concerned about their skeletal structure.

B-48 (Buttercup) Interview

Desc: While I wait for the USDO's medical wing to get back to me with their analysis of Buttercup's brain scans, I have decided to pursue examining her for any side effects of the lack of activity in certain parts of her brain, specifically, the right orbitofrontal cortex, right anterior cingulate cortex and left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex.

To this end, I have prepared an interview with her with a focus on mapping out her mental and emotional processes. Well, I think it is more accurate to say that I've just decided to take her aside and talk to her, as father and daughter. I haven't really done that very often with Buttercup, so I thought this might be a good opportunity for me to spend some time with her.

TRANSCRIPT START

(The 'interview area' is Agent Utonium's desk, with two swivel chairs and a camera on the desk. Utonium adjusts it, his hands close to the lens. B-48 (Buttercup) is seated on a chair raised to maximum height, off-centre but completely visible. The camera is angled to capture her face at a good angle. Agent Utonium sits down.)

Professor Utonium: Do you feel comfortable in that chair, Buttercup?

B-48 (Buttercup): It's a little big, but it feels good. No wonder you're here most of the time!

Professor Utonium: (Smiles) Is it okay if we talk?

B-48 (Buttercup): It's more than okay, Daddy. I like it when it's just the two of us.

Professor Utonium: (Laughs) That's great then, Buttercup.

B-48 (Buttercup): Can we do this more often?

Professor Utonium: (Considers for a moment as he looks then, then looks up with a smile) Well, we'll see. Blossom and Bubbles need me too. We could always get together and talk as a family some time soon.

B-48 (Buttercup): (Her smile seems to fade but returns quickly) Okay… So what do you want to talk about, Daddy-o?

Professor Utonium: I just… How have you been feeling, Buttercup? Are you happy here, in this family?

B-48 (Buttercup): (With the widest smile she could manage) I'm perfectly happy, Daddy. Especially when I'm with you.

Professor Utonium: But what about those times when you weren't smiling? Like when you were in the car, on the way home?

B-48 (Buttercup): I- uh- I wasn't serious about that, Daddy. I'm sorry I made you mad.

Professor Utonium: Buttercup-

B-48 (Buttercup): I just want to be loved. (starts tearing) Please don't be mad.

Professor Utonium: Buttercup, I'm not mad. You know I'll always love you, forever and always.

B-48 (Buttercup): I like it when you say that. (Wipes tears away)

Professor Utonium: So, you're not entirely happy?

B-48 (Buttercup): But I am, Dad.

Professor Utonium: (Does not look convinced) If you say so, Buttercup, I believe you. Now, about that time you pushed Bubbles in the movies…

B-48 (Buttercup): (Promptly) I'm sorry. I'll never do it again. (Appears dismayed at the mention of the topic)

Professor Utonium: Buttercup, what do you mean when you say 'I'm sorry'?

B-48 (Buttercup): I- I uh- When you taught me that word, you told me that it means I regret what I did, and that it makes me unhappy too to have done something wrong.

Professor Utonium: But what does 'sorry' mean to you?

B-48 (Buttercup): Dad… I don't understand…

Professor Utonium: What do you feel when you said you're 'sorry'?

B-48 (Buttercup): Sad and unhappy? Like what you said?

Professor Utonium: In your own words, Buttercup.

B-48 (Buttercup): I… Don't… I just don't want to lose you, Daddy.

Professor Utonium: That's sweet. But do you really regret pushing Bubbles?

B-48 (Buttercup): Y-yes, I do.

Professor Utonium: Why?

B-48 (Buttercup): Because it made you and Mommy sad? I don't like it when the two of you are sad.

Professor Utonium: Hmm. (Looks into Buttercup's eyes, searching)

B-48 (Buttercup): Can I sit on your lap, Dad?

Professor Utonium: Sure, come over here. (Buttercup beams at Agent Utonium and gets off her chair. Utonium picks her up from under her arms and puts her on his legs. She leans on him.)

Professor Utonium: Nice and comfy, Buttercup? (adjusts camera while she's not looking)

B-48 (Buttercup): Yeah. I wish we can be like this forever.

Professor Utonium: What do you think of your sisters, Buttercup?

B-48 (Buttercup): Do we have to talk about them?

Professor Utonium: Don't you want to talk about your sisters? Don't you love them?

B-48 (Buttercup): But I do, Dad, yes, of course I do! I love them very much! (Puts on a wide smile, which seems forced)

Professor Utonium: That's great. Have you been having any trouble with them? Anything at all?

B-48 (Buttercup): No, not at all, Dad. We love each other perfectly and nicely and warmly and- Why, Dad?

Professor Utonium: Then why do you fight with Blossom and Bubbles sometimes?

B-48 (Buttercup): I didn't mean any of it. I just… get so mad sometimes, Dad. I do love them, Daddy, I swear. Please believe me, Dad. I love you. (tearful)

Professor Utonium: (hugs Buttercup) There, there, Butterfly. It's okay to get mad… You just can't fight with your sisters like that, alright? They're family, don't forget that. We look out for each other.

B-48 (Buttercup): Yes, Daddy.

Professor Utonium: That's my Girl.

(They stared into each other's eyes, silent for a minute, smiling then laughing)

Professor Utonium: You're so beautiful when you smile, you know that? You should do that more often. What is it that makes you so angry all the time?

B-48 (Buttercup): (considers the question) I don't know. It- It just happens. I just can't help it, Dad. I'm sorry.

Professor Utonium: Don't be. We all get angry all the time. The next time it happens, just close your eyes and count to ten, okay, honey? It'd go away on its own.

B-48 (Buttercup): Yes, Daddy.

Professor Utonium: And you know what else would help you?

B-48 (Buttercup): What, Dad? (excited)

Professor Utonium: Blossom does drawings and numbers and spellings when she's mad. You should try it, be like Blossom.

B-48 (Buttercup): Oh. (appears sullen) Yes, Dad. Of course, Dad.

Professor Utonium: Are you okay?

B-48 (Buttercup): I'm just tired…

Professor Utonium: Even before training with Mom? You were really energetic the last time.

B-48 (Buttercup): Can I go, Dad? I need to prepare for training. (Gets off Agent Utonium's lap)

Professor Utonium: It's still early, Buttercup.

B-48 (Buttercup): (offscreen) Mom likes it when I'm early.

Professor Utonium: Did I say something wrong? Huh. Anyway, conclusion: To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of this. On one hand, she appears to be a normal little girl who feels and love and care about things the same way I do. Sure, she does seem to get angry and upset more often, but I think I can put it down to personality. Maybe.

There doesn't seem to be anything that could indicate that her neurological abnormalities have affected her. On the other hand, it's just a hunch, but something's off. I can't quite put my finger on it. Just the way she couldn't seem to define 'being sorry' and 'regret', and she seems to swing back and forth between moods a little too quickly. She's giving me contradictory signals about her opinions of her sisters.

But I'm not a psychiatrist. I'm starting to regret not taking that minor in psychiatry back in university. For all I know, it could all just be in my head. Parents tend to worry too much at times. I should know, clearly too, now that I've rejoined their ranks. Should I do another scan of her brain? Perhaps I should. In the meantime, I think I'll wait for results from the USDO Medical Wing.

Chapter Text

USDO Security Expansion Report SEC12121988-2

DOC: 12 DEC 1988

Created by: Chief of Security, Agent Blackwater

Title: The Ultimate Containment Solution

Desc: Before the creation of subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49, containment had never been an impossible problem as the subjects before them were not bulletproof. I've personally led and carried out enough hunting and killing missions to know that, despite their resilience and bullet resistance, they would eventually go down. The minority of subjects who managed to escape were the result of sabotage or the ingenuity of our subjects.

Now, with the advent of B-47, B-48 and B-49, containment becomes impossible. For the past three weeks, me and my men (save for some who'd let their guard down big time) have been standing guard with a knife at our throats. Whatever firearms we have had been reduced to little more long distance cattle prods, if Security Incident 12081988-PP-A is anything to go by.

Agent Utonium is not a man I can work with in close company, but he is effective in his own right. He is able to tame the subjects as their handler, despite the obvious gulf in power - those brats could have killed him instantly, anytime, but they didn't. A manhunt within these 3 weeks would have been futile without the means to wound or kill B-47, B-48 and B-49, and Agent Utonium has made sure, at least for now, that a manhunt is not necessary. However, it's a house on cards. We will never know what's going to happen the next day, or the day after that. Something could just go wrong, and one or more of the subjects could just decide to up and run away for all we know. And there isn't a single thing we can do about it.

Until now.

The shipment of anti-material rifles we ordered from the Institute has just arrived, and none too soon. I have inspected the equipment, and the team I have assigned it to could do nothing but fawn over it for the entire day, and ever since then. I won't go over the numbers and stats of this amazing weapon, but here's the basic facts:

The anti-material rifle itself is based on an experimental weapon still in development in collaboration with the Barrett Firearms Company. Using our connections, the Institute is able to procure copies of the XM90 Anti-Material Rifle and modify it according to our needs.

The entire barrel and rifling has been replaced with a Duranium equivalent, which ensures that the the anti-material rifle can be used repeatedly, but most importantly, retains the same accuracy as the model it is based on.

Such a modification is necessary because of the ammunition it fires. The Duranium XM90 fires .50 BMG rounds made of crude Duranium and tipped with refined Duranium. The propellant used is interesting. The Institute has utilized our old Chemical A to enhance the chemical propellant, which means firepower unheard of before. The normal XM90s are designed to penetrate the armor and hull of light vehicles and concrete bunkers. The Institute has demonstrated that their Duranium version is able to punch through the armor of even a fully kitted-out M1 Abrams tank, port to starboard.

Based on Agent Utonium's report, they should easily kill B-47, B-48 and B-49. The only downside is that this solution is expensive, with each Duranium XM90 Anti-Material Rifle costing over a million greens to build, and each bullet costing tens of thousands. We can't afford to field many of them even with the money we're getting from the White House. For now, we have a grand total of 2 rifles and 3 cartridges. We will really have to make them count.

I have assigned my best sniper and spotter, in the Powerpuff Taskforce as the Kill Team with an accompanying rifleman to protect them. However, I have stationed them in Outpost Charlie-01 as they will also be responsible for assassinating escaped subjects such as Jojo should we be able to corner them - they will downgrade to normal ammunition in that case.

In the more conventional realm, I have been able to more than double the number of personnel in Townsville. Our security forces there numbers 500 now, including the personnel surrounding B-47, B-48 and B-49. They are also far better equipped than we would even dare imagine just a month ago. Motorpool has been able to order in a huge stock of Humvees and even APCs, the former of which are already in use while the latter will be ready to deploy in a few days. We have started distributing HMGs and explosive weapons to our men.

Law enforcement operations has already begun, and Project Powerpuff will be deployed any day now, at the discretion of Police Commissioner Davis and his Chiefs, after being green-lit to go by Mayor Wilford. How the three subjects of Project Powerpuff can be integrated into our security forces, however, is still up for debate. They look like children and act like it too, and it gets complicated since these are 'children' with abilities enhanced beyond expectations - and they are practically illiterate, since they have only just barely started as preschoolers. Command and control will be a difficult proposition when I can't even be sure that they can interpret and execute orders effective, and if they even want to interpret and execute my orders.

Chapter Text

Chapter 41: Eve of The Call

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 0708.

-Can't tell the ass end of a donkey from it's head.

If you're going to keep this shit up, we should just toss you out, and then we'll see how much you appreciate us.

You God damn whore. You're going to grow up to be a prostitute-

You're stupid! Weak! Useless!

Stupid! Weak! Useless!

Useless!

Wake up, Selicia, for fuck's sake! Wake up!

"Wake up, Selicia," the security officer could hear a male voice serving as an alarm and deliverance from her nightmares. It could only be Professor Utonium, the only man in The House. He was already in his lab coat, prepared. "Wake up. We need to talk." He was nudging her awake roughly, with no hint of love or even care at all.

"Thomas?" Selicia said groggily. A headache pounded at her. As she sat up, she could feel a blanket falling away from her, and that she was on the couch. As drunk as she was last night, she couldn't remember getting up on the couch – she wasn't that drunk.

The professor stood there with his arms crossed, looking at her severely. She had thought him to be a bit of a goofy old nerd before, when things were cheerful, but now – now there was this other side of him that she'd only glimpsed at for short periods, that even she could not help but to respect and fear. Touch his Girls, and he'd raise hell, or make life difficult for the perps who harassed his angels. From what she'd heard, he was part of the reason why the Organization became the USDO, losing much of its ability to operate covertly and secretly.

"Thomas darling, I'm so sorry I-" Selicia stumbled as she looked timidly up at her 'husband'.

"Save it, Selicia. In my office, now," the professor said firmly, pointing at the door to his office authoritarian-like. Selicia stumbled up, her blanket wrapped around her as if it was her life boat, and followed the professor meekly. He didn't wait, forcing her to play catch up. The blanket had meant more to her now. She could only think of one person who'd put it on her. Buttercup, her darling.

"How are you feeling?" the professor asked coldly as he drew water from the office's water cooler. Bubbles rose in the giant bottle of the mini-water tower.

"Like shit, Thomas. I'm a mess, and…" Selicia said, but she was afraid to go on.

"Good. Because you deserve it," the professor said coldly as he sipped his cup of water, facing away from her. Instead, he was looking at the spines of his many books and tomes and encyclopedias. But Selicia knew that he was looking at something else, something on his mind. He'd seen her slap Bubbles while he was facing down the stairs. She knew that he was still looking at that scene, frozen and burnt into his mind. "You we're supposed to be a mother to them all, not some drill sergeant."

"I'm sorry," Selicia apologized. She felt a need inside of her to justify her behavior and actions, but she'd decided against it. A wise move on her part. "But Tom, I love them, I really do. I just-"

"Don't 'Tom' me, Selicia! Do you know how Bubbles was like in her sleep last night?" Professor Utonium bellowed at her. While still facing his books. Somehow, he seemed more frightening that way to Selicia. The woman shook when he'd suddenly shouted. "She wouldn't stop crying and whimpering in her sleep. She couldn't escape you even in her sleep."

It hurt Selicia badly when the professor associated the word 'escape' with her. It'd hurt all the more because it was an entirely justifiable word choice.

"I'm sorry, Thomas," Selicia said. "I know I'm wrong now, I just- I love them, I swear, I fucking swear. I just didn't want to see them hurt out there and I thought that-"

"Don't apologize to me, Selicia. And I don't want to hear your excuse," the professor said, swinging around to face her quite suddenly and furiously that Selicia jumped. "But the USDO was right to send you here. The Girls do need a mother. You wouldn't have been my first choice, but you're here anyway, and they now think that you're their real mother. Which is why I'm going to give you a chance. You'll make it right today. It's you and Bubbles after school in the Townsville Mall. I don't want to hear even a hint of a possibility that you're treating her any less than stellar. Do you understand me? Or am I speaking in rocket science?"

"I understand. Crystal clear," Selicia said, not that she could do anything other than agree with his terms. She'd fucked up. It was all on her.

There was silence after that in the office, for a while. A pregnant silence as uncomfortable as facing the professor's justified anger. The professor migrated to the window, looking out into the early winter morning outside, and the speed convoy and USDO security vehicles parked right up front that never failed to remind him of what kind of circumstances the Girls were in.

"I guess we'll wake the Girls up and get them ready for school then," Selicia broke the silence meekly with her suggestion. She had never been this way before – submissive and deferring – ever since she was a teenager on the verge of running far, far away from home and becoming a young outlaw.

"Not you. I'm preparing them for school, and I'm driving them to school. You can stay at home and… Do whatever it is that you do when you had no real responsibilities," the professor said, still cold. In her vulnerable and emotional state, Selicia felt useless, the way he said it. "I'll pick you up after the meeting in the new headquarters, and then you'll start making amends for your mistake."

With that, the professor left her behind, alone in the cold office, with only Buttercup's blanket for company.

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

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 0825.

"And here we are, school!" Professor Utonium announced when he pulled up at Pokey Oaks Kindergarten, trying to sound as excited as he could.

"I can't wait to learn more words!" Blossom exclaimed eagerly.

"I can't wait to play tag!" Buttercup exclaimed too. "Remember that game from yesterday? It's better than hopscotch. Right, Bubbles?"

Bubbles did not answer. She was clutching onto her little blue school bag tightly, eyes staring at the professor's chair as if it was a television replaying what had happened yesterday.

"Bubbles, are you okay?" the professor asked softly, gently, concerned after turning around to regard her. Bubbles did not reply. "Bubbles?"

"Yes," Bubbles lied, then regretted it and corrected herself. "No, Dad. I don't feel like doing anything. I don't feel like going to school."

'God damn Selicia and her security antics,' the professor thought, and couldn't help but to scowl at the thought of her hurting his baby girl. He glanced out through the front passenger seat window, and saw Miss Keane waiting for her students by the main entrance of the school complex. Time was of the essence.

"Blossom, Buttercup, why don't the two of you go to Miss Keane while I talk to your sister?" the professor said calmly, while managing a smile despite it all.

"Yes, Daddy," Blossom and Buttercup said in unison, with Bubbles accidentally muttering the first syllable of 'yes' for some eccentric reason before stopping herself. They left and slammed the door shut, a little too forcefully. The professor thought that he'd needed to work on that with the other two, but his attention quickly returned to Bubbles.

"Bubbles, I know it was bad yesterday, but you can't stop living because of one bad thing," the professor tried to reason with Bubbles, hoping that she'd see through her own misery. "Like school. You had fun yesterday, right? I'm sure it'll be fun today too."

"Mom hates me, and I love her," Bubbles cried. "I don't understand."

The professor shuddered at the thought of ever defending Selicia, but he had to this time. He had no choice. Selicia had secured for herself a position as the Girls' mother, and a biological mother at that – that B word alone had ensured that the position was for life. He would have to make do with what he had. He tried to psyche himself into thinking positively. 'Selicia was pretty good before her abuse of Bubbles last night. She could be again… Maybe," he thought.

"Bubbles, you silly girl, Mommy doesn't hate you," Professor Utonium said. "She thought that she was helping you. She wants you to grow up big and tough."

"But she hit me," Bubbles said this while she clutched her cheek. Tears dripped. It broke the professor, seeing his sweetest like this.

" I know, Bubbles. She's wrong to do that. But you know what? She knew it too, and she's really sorry. She's sad too because of it," the professor said, his voice heavy as well. Even Theoretical Physics was less complicated and painful than this. It had always astounded him how humanity was capable of such complexity, like how Selicia and the USDO had muddied the morality of everyone around him, of him, even.

"Oh," Bubbles squeaked, not looking anymore happier or relieved than before.

"She's really sorry, and really upset about it. She wants to make up for it, for hitting you, sweetie," the Professor said. "She's taking you out after school."

"Okay," Bubbles said, still looking the same as before, as if she was going to fall apart any minute.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to, you know."

"I guess I'll go…" Bubbles agreed reluctantly.

"Are you sure, honey?"

"Y-yes…" Bubbles stumbled on her one word. The professor could sense conflict in her, something she shouldn't have to go through, not at this age, so young an age - she wasn't even a month old. A normal human being at this age would be in the safe, warm embrace of a loving parent, for the next few years. He looked out the window at Miss Keane again. Blossom and Buttercup were talking to her, and Blossom had just pointed towards them as she spoke. Miss Keane then gazed in the direction of him and Bubbles. He would have to find out later what the Girls had told their teacher.

"If you say so, Bubbles. I'll drop you and Mom off at the mall after school, alright?" the professor said. "You've got to go now. Your sisters and teacher are waiting for you."

Time ground to a halt after that when the Girls were gone, delivered into the care of someone he barely knew, but had to trust. He drove towards the new USDO HQ in Townsville, with a Humvee for escort, of course - the USDO could never leave him alone.

At the new headquarters, the meeting was all the same - the usual doom and gloom, except it was worse for him, for the Girls. They were officially part of the network now, and the button could be pressed at any time to send them into the underworld. The professor went through the motions, delivering information like a computer. What he'd discovered of the Girls, what little scientific breakthroughs he'd made.

The non-science staff were especially impatient with his progress in exploring Chemical X, as if Einstein was born with the Theory of Relativity in his head and Thomas Edison with a bulb in his belly. They had yet to find a replacement for Head of Research, and as a result the various USDO science teams scattered throughout the US floundered in the dark, went about their own way without direction. At this, the professor took small pleasure. Considered it retribution for what they'd put the Girls and him through.

All the while, he could think of nothing and no one but Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.

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

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1135.

"Tag! You're it!" Mary, one of Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's classmates yelled after he'd tapped Buttercup in the shoulder. She didn't know how she'd done it, but being in a crowd of screaming children had something to do with it. That, and she was beholden to her Daddy, and if he said 'no superpowers', his word was law. Except when it was too inconvenient for her, of course… or if she got too angry.

Everyone started running away from Buttercup, even her own sisters, spreading in all directions as if they were avoiding the plague. Except they were laughing and squealing with joy.

She started looking in all directions, looking for the closest target. Her pure, joyful smile turned shark-like. She sped after a boy in a red shirt, homing in on him like some predator.

The more fortunate gave her a wide berth, while the targeted boy ran with all his lungs could give, but never quite putting any distance between him and Buttercup.

It didn't take long for the boy to be cornered like a rabbit preyed upon, and for Buttercup, lost in the thrill of the hunt, to give him a shove against the fence. The boy gave a frightened shout, before bouncing off the fence and falling on the floor, his loose, red shirt flying up to reveal his belly.

Buttercup stared at the boy she'd just pushed, not because she'd just cause him pain, but there was just something abnormal about him that she'd just discovered. Something really wrong and unnatural. Blossom and Bubbles joined her, as did the rest of the class.

"Blossom, Bubbles, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Buttercup asked her sisters.

"What, Buttercup?" Blossom asked, but she had something else on her mind. "You didn't have to push him so hard, Buttercup!"

"I know, but look! See that on his stomach?" Buttercup insisted, pointing at Mac's belly. Blossom and Bubbles saw where she was pointing at… and gasped simultaneously.

"I'm fine! I'm fine! My father's a policeman!" The boy boasted before sitting up and covering himself. "You're strong, Butters!"

"Mac, what was that on your stomach?" Buttercup questioned, her curiosity burning. Mac lifted his shirt up again, searching. But nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"There, that… thing!" Buttercup yelled, pointing, as if she had just spotted the Sasquatch.

"What, this?" Mac pointed at his own belly.

"Yeah, what is that?" Blossom asked as well.

"It's what my mum calls the belly button," Mac revealed. "Didn't your own mother tell you that?"

"No…" Bubbles said, and her utterance meant several things at once. The Girls had never seen such a mystical thing as a belly button before. Not even on themselves.

"Everyone has it, how can you not know?" another student, a tanned girl, said.

"Really?" Blossom said. One after another, the children around them showed them their belly buttons, that birth scar that marked them as naturally born human beings, and the Project Powerpuff trio as something else altogether.

"Don't you have one?" another of their classmate asked, this time an overweight boy with freckles.

"No…" the Girls chorused sadly, eyes fallen to the floor. All of a sudden, it felt as if they were the wrong ones, the outcast.

"Har-har! Your mother must be a drunken prostitute!" Mac suddenly let out, but he was merely parroting his father. It immediately got Buttercup's attention the worst way possible – instinctively, she knew that those were bad things, even if she didn't know the exact meaning of it. Buttercup had tried Dad's anger management method, counting to ten. But she couldn't even make it to two when she felt herself explode inside. Without any warning, the enhanced green-dressed girl seized him by the collar with a single hand, lifting him off his feet and pinning him against the fence.

"I dare you to say that again!" Buttercup snarled viciously, raising her other fist. "Go ahead, Mac, say it!"

"Buttercup! Oh my God! Stop it, all of you!" Miss Keane screamed from the backdoor as she ran towards them. Buttercup turned to glance at the teacher from the corner of her eyes, distracted.

Blossom and Bubbles took the opportunity to grab their violent sister, one to each arm, before she could do any harm. Blossom, in charge of Buttercup's left arm, twisted it so that she'd let go of Mac, who dropped to the black top of the playground, crying.

"Mac! Are you okay!?" Miss Keane screamed as she picked the boy up. "Go back inside, the rest of you!"

The children, at least the normal ones with belly buttons, started streaming into the school building. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that Miss Keane didn't mean the Girls, and at this, the Girls were commendable for figuring it out.

"Thanks a bunch, losers!" another boy shouted from behind Miss Keane, thinking that the teacher could not figure out who it was.

"Yeah, thanks for no recess!" another student, a girl, was encouraged to jeer, extremely bitter about losing the rest of her recess. They were only ten minutes into it when they had to go back inside.

"I'll see you two later, Lucas and Minnie," Miss Keane said, picking up on the voices. The kindergartners, by virtue of their inexperience and growing pride, had vastly underestimated their teacher.

"Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup… Can the three of you tell me what happened?" Miss Keane asked patiently. She set Mac down. The boy, shaken, hid behind her legs. "Macmillian, what happened?"

"He called my mother a 'drunken prostitute'!" Buttercup yelled. The boy had been poking his head out from behind Miss Keane's legs, but he returned into hiding when Buttercup glared death and daggers at him. The ravenette felt the genuine need to kill him, and the boy felt it. "Can I punch him, Miss Keane!?"

Buttercup took steps forward, looking like she could bolt at her anytime. Miss Keane couldn't help but to reach for her vest, where her pistol was hidden in, but resisted the urge to pull the weapon out. She reminded herself repeatedly that she was surrounded by children, just that three of them were born, or rather, created with super-abilities, as she understood it.

"No! Absolutely not!" Miss Keane scolded Buttercup, putting her hands out as she shielded Mac, who cowered behind her. For a minute, she'd thought that the girl with the green slightly-glowing eyes would just attack the both of them anyway, but she backed off. It helped that her sisters, the nicer ones of the trio, were pulling her back, telling their sister to stop.

"But he was being mean!" Buttercup rebelled.

"And you were wrong too for hurting him, Buttercup," Miss Keane told the girl, wagging a finger at her.

"But he-" Buttercup wanted to say more, but Miss Keane interrupted her.

"No buts! Two wrongs don't make a right," the teacher lectured. "Now apologize to each other right this minute!"

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

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1301.

Buttercup stared nervously out the window of the family car; she had never been more afraid for her life. Blossom and Bubbles, out of love for their sister, feared for her. Professor Utonium was out of the car again, and right next to Miss Keane at the entrance of the school, speaking. The teacher and the professor would occasionally glance in Buttercup's direction.

When they were done, Miss Keane passed through the school entrance, where, for all the Girls knew, was where she lived. The professor, in the meantime, walked towards the car, his eyes shifting between the car and Buttercup. He rounded the car before getting into the driver's seat. He was silent as he put on his seat belt and placed both hands on the steering wheel. He pressed his forehead against it, as though his head was too heavy to carry.

It had been a close call. Buttercup could have decapitated a boy today, had it not been for Miss Keane. He knew how Buttercup could get when she was angry. She'd broke a door nearly off its hinges when he made her mad. Hell, he'd just found out the previous day that she could carry the very car they were sitting in and probably toss it, too.

"Is everything alright?" Selicia on his left asked. She leaned in on him with a hand on his shoulder, genuinely worried - the stakes were higher with her now, since she had a debt to pay, and even more to prove. The professor shrugged her hand off, still pissed at her for hitting Bubbles repeatedly last night.

The Girls could see his face with the rear view mirror. It wasn't one of anger, but concern and sadness.

"Dad…" Buttercup said, had wanted to explain things, but decided against it. The professor turned around, looking at his little butterfly.

"I know why you did it, honey," the professor said, gentle as always. "You love your mother. But you can't hurt people just because someone said something about her."

"I'm sorry," Buttercup apologized. The professor knew full well that it might not mean what it normally meant. Based on his father-daughter conversation with her yesterday, he knew that she had trouble grasping that concept - perhaps because of her age. It had to be. What else could it be?

"There's a common saying, Buttercup. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me," the professor lectured. "Do you know what it means?"

"I guess…" Buttercup said.

"It means that words are just words, Buttercup. And you're tougher than any other children, right?" the professor explained anyway, putting on a reassuring smile. The green-eyed girl smiled in return.

"Right, Daddy," Buttercup said, feeling a little better. She had thought that she was in for it, that her father was sure to love her less, and that she wouldn't be able to enjoy the pleasure of his company, but that threat now seemed like a thing of the past. Professor Utonium started up the car, and drove towards the city.

"What started the fight anyway?" the professor asked out of curiosity.

"Dad… What happened to our belly buttons?" Blossom asked in return. Apparently, that was what started the fight.

'Einstein help me,' the professor thought. He'd completely forgotten about that. He slammed on the brakes, alarmed, stopping at the side of the road. Everyone was thrown forward, but thankfully, they had seat belts on.

"Belly buttons?" the professor repeated Blossom's question, eyes darting around as if the answers were somewhere around him. He had to think of an answer fast. A reason why they were born without it. Something - anything to hide the fact that they were created in a sterile lab because of an accident, not out of love between wife and husband. Naturally, he turned to science for his answers, or at least a perversion of it.

"Everyone had belly buttons. They showed them to us," Bubbles recounted the horrible experience, her shrill voice sad and saddening.

"Well…" the professor stumbled on words, more in his mind than verbally. He had a few ideas, so he allowed them to draw straws and he took the first thing that floated to the surface. "You know that last time when I cut the three of you with a scalpel? And it took only a day for the three of you to heal from it?"

"Perfectly, Dad," Blossom said confidently, the horror of that day long gone.

"Yes, Dad…" Bubbles said reluctant, still shuddering from that experience.

"Yeah," Buttercup said gruffly, as she was reminded of how gray things could be, lies and all.

"Well… You see, Girls, the belly button is a scar, and you Girls don't get scars. So the moment the umbilical cord - that little tube that connected you to Mommy over here, was cut, your belly buttons disappeared really quickly," the professor lied through his teeth, improvising along the way, knowing very well that he sounded ridiculous. It was perfectly scientifically plausible and accurate - if the Girls had really been inside Selicia before. "Okay, Girls? That's what happened." The professor was just as much lying to himself as he was lying to the Girls, trying to convince himself that that was the ticket, that it was now the truth.

He glanced at the rear-view mirror, briefly. Their facial expression did not swing around. "What's wrong? Don't you believe me?" Professor Utonium asked, trying to stuff the panic inside him back down.

"It's not that," Blossom said. "It's the other children in class-"

"I don't think they like us anymore," Bubbles completed Blossom's sentence for her.

"And it's all thanks to that Mac boy!" Buttercup added.

"Because you don't have a navel?" the professor clarified.

"Yes," the three Girls answered in accord.

"That's just how children are, Girls. They'll forget about it in a day or two," Professor Utonium said. Buttercup wasn't quite convinced. After all, she was a child and she didn't forget things. Blossom and Bubbles, however, ate it up, everything their Daddy said. "And even if they don't… You'll be joining a new class next year. The children you three are with now will move on to elementary school next year."

"Oh…" Blossom and Bubbles emoted sadly. They'd met some friends, and had hoped that they would turn around and stay as friends for longer than half a month.

"Well, good riddance anyway. It's not like they were good friends!" Buttercup snapped, with her arms folded.

"You should forgive them, Buttercup. They don't know any better," Selicia finally said something, motivated by the fact that her favorite was in distress, and to a lesser extent, so were the other two Girls. "They're just kids."

"But I wouldn't judge someone just because they're different," Blossom said.

"That's good, honey," the professor praised. "But not everyone's as smart and nice as you." The professor started up the car again, and swerved back into the lane.

"Well, they better come up with a nice surprise tomorrow, or I'm going to be really mad!" Buttercup said.

The City of Townsville. Downtown. Townsville Mall

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1331.

After getting dropped off at the mall, Selicia and Bubbles sort of stood there for a while, afraid of each other. Selicia made the first move, knowing that it was all on her, considering what she had done. The wound on Bubbles' lips, where she had bit herself, had long disappeared owing to her healing factor, but she knew that the wound in her mind would take much longer. The mother put out a hand, and Bubbles shrank away from it, afraid that it was another slap, then stared at it after seeing that it wasn't, as if she had forgotten what to do with a mother's hand.

"Come on, Bubbles," Selicia said as she gestured for Bubbles to take her hand. Bubbles slipped her little hand around hers, and the mother closed hers gently around it. They walked in the mall for a while, aimlessly. "How about lunch?"

"I had lunch in school," Bubbles said timidly, still afraid that she was going to get a slap in the face next if she said the wrong thing. "But lunch would be great." Selicia sensed it. Bubbles had broke at the wrong time; she had wanted her to just accept violence as part of her life as a member of law enforcement, but now Bubbles had broke long after in some sort of delayed reaction. It was all messed up, and she would have to clean up her mess.

"You don't have to eat if you don't want to, darling," Selicia said. They happened upon a restaurant advertising a 'happy meal' for kids. It was perfect for Bubbles even if it wasn't five stars.

"I guess I want to…" Bubbles said timidly. She felt trapped with Mommy's hand around hers. "We didn't have much in school."

The City of Townsville. Townsville Central Park

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1341.

After dropping off Selicia Goodwin and Bubbles, Professor Utonium had taken Blossom and Buttercup to the park, for more father-and-daughter time. He would have preferred Bubbles to be with them. Selicia, too, only because the Girls wanted her around. But there had to be a compromise somehow, for the Girls' good. They needed a mother, a positive female influence, one who could do some things that a man could not. He could only keep his fingers crossed that Selicia would eventually get better at this whole parenting business.

After a stroll in the park with ice cream to top them off, they swung by the playground. Blossom and Buttercup took turns chasing each other in the castle of corridors and tubes there, exploring the construct, sliding down the tubes while the professor sat down on a bench with his pipe, watching. For the moment, it seemed like a perfect moment of family time, that the red and green girls could get along - he had to admit, they weren't perfect siblings to each other, with the each of them a near-complete opposite of the other. It made sense, considering that they weren't even biological siblings, not that they knew about it. But science had a saving grace: it wasn't just about genetics that could determine how good or bad a familial relationship could get.

The City of Townsville. Downtown. Townsville Mall

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1344.

Selicia and Bubbles sat on opposite sides of a two-seater table, fries, burgers and soda between them, but all the little girl could do was to stare at the food with her mind somewhere else, back in The House, on the floor of the basement, with blood dripping from her lower lip when she had accidentally bit herself after getting slapped.

"Bubbles, about what happened…" Selicia started, she herself feeling awkward and unsure of things. She played with her hands underneath the table. "I'm sorry I hit you. I've misbehaved yesterday."

Bubbles said nothing. It had been easy to forgive Buttercup. She was one of her, a little girl. But Mom was different. She was one of the adults, one of those whom she thought could do no wrong. But she had done a lot of wrong the day before, and it stung much harder than the slaps. It'd changed things.

"I- I- was just afraid, girl, that when you step out there…" Selicia began to cry. Bubbles took a peek at her, and when she saw that her mother was crying, she couldn't help but to feel sorry for her. "I just didn't want you to get hurt when you're out fighting crime, you know. I wanted you to be ready, but I guess I-" Selicia sniffled, and used a napkin to wipe her tears away. Bubbles hated it when someone cry. People should be happy and smiley.

"I forgive you, Mom. Please don't cry," Bubbles finally said. She reached out for her mother's hand. Selicia took it hungrily, glad that things had come to a close. "I'm sorry I'm not as tough as Buttercup, or- or- you know, as smart as Blossom."

"It's fine, honey. I'm sure you will be," Selicia said, smiling as she wiped her tears away. "I love you, don't ever forget that, alright?"

"I love you too, Mom."

"So… are you going to eat that? Food's getting cold."

The City of Townsville. Townsville Central Park

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1354.

When Blossom and Buttercup were done with the tubes and platforms, they settled down on the swing set. There weren't many children due to the winter climate, so they had the place to themselves. They had never been on a swing before, and the professor was happy to introduce them to it. He swung them both consecutively, teaching them how to lean forward and back to build momentum.

"Yeah, that's it. Lean forward when you're flying forward and back when you're falling back," the professor instructed the Girls.

"Wee!" they each shouted in glee as they experienced what felt like flying.

"Harder, Dad! Harder!" Buttercup squealed with joy as she egged the professor on to send her up higher.

"Alright, my butterfly, just one more," the professor said with a toothy smile, gave Buttercup a final push before moving on to Blossom, who had come to a standstill, and appeared understandably upset by the lack of attention. "Nice, Buttercup, keep going back and forth! I've got to push Blossom now."

"Dad? I don't feel good," Blossom said to him when he got around to her.

"What's the matter? Is it a tummy ache?" the professor asked. Putting them in school meant putting them in a different environment, which meant different food and millions more pathogens and disease vectors. The Girls had never been sick before, but it could be a matter of time. He still had no idea if Chemical X had any effect on their immune system.

"No, Dad. Here," Blossom put a hand on her chest. The professor got to her front and bent down to her level. She was clutching her heart. "I don't know why, but I feel sad all of a sudden."

"Can you think of why?" the professor asked. There were times when the Girls couldn't put emotions to words, but they were surprisingly few. The professor surmised that it was due to their lightning intellectual development.

"I don't know," Blossom said. A single tear drop fell from her eyes. The professor wiped it away. She glanced from at the floor from left to right, her slightly glowing pink eyes searching. "I miss the first days, Dad. When it was just you and me and my sisters, in The House."

"Dad! Is it my turn yet?" Buttercup shouted in the background. She had lost all her momentum, and couldn't get it back. "Dad!"

"Buttercup, push yourself for now, okay? Use your legs," the professor turned his head and said dismissively before turning back to Blossom.

"But Dad, it's my turn!" Buttercup persisted. For some reason, Buttercup had struck a nerve in the professor. For the first time, he thought that the green-eyed girl was being selfish. "Daaa-aad! I need a push!"

"Buttercup! Be quiet for a minute! Just one minute! Is that too much to ask for!?" Professor Utonium snapped at Buttercup before returning to Blossom. Buttercup sat in her swing, stunned how Daddy had scolded her.

"Blossom, we're all still together, as one family," the professor comforted.

"But things have changed so much. I don't get to see you for as long as before because of school and Mom, and we'll be out fighting crime… And…" Blossom put her thoughts and emotions into words with difficulty. "It wasn't like before, when it's just you and the three of us."

Professor Utonium knew immediately what she was referring to. How her life was changing, and how it was changing fast. The Girls had blazed through the better part of five years of development in not even a month. While normal children would not have remembered the several years of idle growth and development they had enjoyed, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had developed mentally from blank slates resembling the mental state of babies to that of 5-year-olds… while they were fully aware and capable of remembering everything. That, and the fact that they didn't get to enjoy the many years of childhood before they had to start school and… go to 'work'. It was all unprecedented, considering that the Girls were one-of-a-kind.

"Blossom, things change. You have to understand and accept that," the professor said. Blossom didn't look any happier after hearing that. He had to think of something, but thankfully, parenting solutions wasn't the least of his talents. "But it can still be the four of us together, you know. I can take the three of you out, and we can all have fun together, just like old times. What do you say? We can do it this weekend, if you want."

Blossom beamed at him when he proposed the weekend getaway. Those ethereal eyes, forever glowing pink, seemed capable of displaying so much more emotions than that of a normal child's. Or was it his parenthood talking?

"That would be nice, Daddy," Blossom agreed. The professor gave her a few more pushes of the swing after that. All the while, Buttercup watched as her influence on her father waned once more, fuming mad. Once again, bad thoughts were coming back to her. She couldn't kill Blossom, but she could always get even with her. One of these days, she could get even with her. One of these days…

The City of Townsville. Downtown. Townsville Mall

13 DEC 1988 (Tuesday). 1439.

After the little talk with Bubbles at the fast food restaurant, things were smooth-sailing from there. Selicia brought her adopted daughter around the mall after that, eventually ending up in the arcade, where electronic and analog games alike were operating. As Bubbles had a dislike for explosions and violence, Selicia Goodwin opted instead to bring her to the traditional games. There, they fished for plastic ducks, threw balls at cans, and Selicia was able to trick Bubbles into enjoying whatever would have been considered violent - such as shooting paper boards with images of wild west bandits using a BB gun. Bubbles proved to be a natural with a rifle, what with her visual acuity, winning herself a monkey. At the cans, Selicia was able to win Bubbles a pony; it was no different from bouncing a grenade towards an enemy target.

By the time they were waiting for Professor Utonium to pick them up, their arms were full of soft toys, whether won or bought at a store. But most importantly, all animosity between Selicia and Bubbles was gone, and they were all smiles. The question remained, however: what would it take to turn Bubbles into the perfect law enforcement officer, who wouldn't hesitate to shoot to kill, if necessary?

Chapter Text

Chapter 42: Call to Arms

City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 DEC 1988 (Wednesday). 2142.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The sound of the Project Powerpuff Hotline ringing for the first time since Wiggum's demonstration resounded throughout The House. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had been playing in their room when it did. The Girls looked up from their tea party, of which Buttercup was reluctantly party to. Buttercup looked at it with anticipation, Bubbles with dread while Blossom was straight-faced, psyched up to do her part to help people.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The phone continued to interrupt their playtime.

"It's really loud…" Bubbles commented as she put down a whale doll.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The phone replied.

"What do we do?" Buttercup asked.

"I'll pick it up," Blossom volunteered as she got up from her kiddy chair and padded towards the clown phone, which smiled at her with the sunniest possible smile. She'd seen how Daddy had done it, using the phone. She picked up the handheld receiver and put it against her ear.

"Hello? Agent- I mean, Mister Blake here. Are you Blossom, Bubbles or Buttercup?" the voice on the other end said.

"Oh hi, Mister Blake. It's me, Blossom," the red-haired Girl said cheerily, as if it was just another pleasant conversation.

"Ah, of course. Blossom, looks like we've got a call. The three of you are officially in the law enforcement business. Put your gear on and get in the car," Agent Blake said.

"W-what?" Blossom stuttered at the news, before regaining her senses. It had come without warning, and it'd taken her by surprise. She wasn't ignorant of what was to come - Selicia had taken it upon herself to tell them about the horrors of the outside world and crime. Even her kid-friendly, abridged version of it was enough to put nervousness and even fear in her. But she was still adamant to help. "I- uh- Yes, Mister Blake. I'll come down soon."

"And be quick, Blossom. People can get really impatient with this kind of stuff. I'll see you in a few?" Agent Blake said on the phone.

"Okay. Bye…" Blossom bade stiffly. Her friend on the line hung up, and she followed after that. She turned to her sisters, her pink-glowing eyes wide as she stared at them.

"Who was it, Blossom?" Buttercup quizzed impatiently.

"Mister Blake," Blossom said, her eyes closed, trying to push the fear out of her, trying to remember why she'd agreed to this crime-fighting business. She opened her eyes, determined. "It's time."

"We're fighting crime, now?" Buttercup asked again, not believing her ears. Unlike Blossom, and definitely Bubbles, she'd been looking forward to the day when she could punch some real meat. She was getting bored of pushing steel weights with a baddy plastered in front of it or kicking a crash dummy, even if it was kind of cool to watch it fall apart. She'd been dying to try her new flying kick move.

"Yes," Blossom said. "We'll have to put our suits on."

"Urgh! I hate that dress!" Buttercup complained as she sprinted towards the closet. Opening the doors, she pulled her SWAT gear out. Blossom and Bubbles did the same.

"Shouldn't we be wearing our most beautiful dress if we're giving out puppies?" Bubbles said, still in the lalaland of fantastic crime fighting.

"That's because we won't be giving out puppies, dummy! We'll be giving out knuckle sandwiches, instead!" Buttercup scolded as she pulled her dress off. She'd learned the term 'knuckle sandwich' from Mommy, and it'd stuck with her since.

"Buttercup, quit it!" Blossom scolded as she was pulling her dress off.

Footsteps thundered outside the door. There was a quick rap and the door flew open. "Girls!" it was the professor, looking more anxious than the Girls were. "I just heard the hotline!" The girls were in their undies when he did this, but since he was their Daddy, they didn't mind. "Did Blake say what it was? What you're fighting?"

"No..." Blossom said as she pulled her red military trousers up. "He just wants us down 'in a few'."

"Well, whatever it is, I'm coming with you," he insisted. "I'll be downstairs. Love you, Girls!" The door slammed shut once more as the professor hurried away, his footsteps fading in the distance. The Girls hurried up, using their natural speed to suit up lightning fast.

"Bubbles, you wore your vest backwards!" Buttercup scolded her sister. "The pockets are supposed to go in front."

"Oh!" Bubbles, with Blossom's help, removed it and turned it around. But despite this, they were quick. By the time the professor was climbing down the stairs, with a bullet-resistant vest underneath his lab coat, the Girls had already joined him. Together, they ran towards the front door. Selicia was there too.

"Hey Thomas, am I coming with the four of you?" Selicia said. The professor looked at her from head to toe. She was dressed in her security uniform with a gray hooded jacket, rifle on her shoulder and pistol on her hip. She had scrambled as well, and knowing that the Girls were fast, left her SWAT gear out of it. But the professor couldn't bring himself to trust her, not yet.

"Stay at home, honey. Put the supper on and keep it warm for us," he simply said before brushing her aside and reaching for his jacket. She didn't show it, but his response had massively disappointed her. She'd wanted to see Buttercup (and the other Girls to a lesser extent) on her first day of crime-fighting. But she knew she deserved it - it was punishment for what she'd done to Bubbles.

"But-! Can't you come with us, Mom?" Buttercup exclaimed in dismay; she'd wanted her with her, so that she could show off everything she'd taught her.

"You heard your Daddy. I can't, honeybun," Selicia said, trying to keep from sounding too upset so that it wouldn't affect Buttercup and her morale and performance in combat. She gently nudged her ahead. "Don't keep your sisters waiting. Go and do me proud!"

"But Dad! Why can't Mom come with us?" Buttercup protested as they went out the front door. A blast of freezing wind greeted them.

"Someone has to stay at home and keep things in order, Buttercup," the professor ran with the first excuse on his mind. He was able to get away with it because of the rush. They ran up to the speed convoy, the professor lagging behind by a million miles when the Girls sprinted at top speed towards Mister Blake's middle transport.

The House. Mission Time - 0 mins

"Professor! Didn't expect to find you here!" Agent Blake from the driver's cockpit greeted when the Girls and their caretaker came in. The professor went in first, followed by Blossom (naturally), then Bubbles and Buttercup. It was cramped inside, as the Lamborghini wasn't quite made for transporting large numbers of people, especially when they were wearing tactical gear, but the Girls hadn't complained. "We're going into a hot zone, not the lab."

"It's the Girls' first time. I should be with them," the professor said curtly. He still couldn't bring himself to trust this 'Blake' character. Call him over-protective, but no one's going to hurt his little angels. If they were going to be solve a problem in place of adults, he was going to be with them every step of the way. If not him, who else? Few in the USDO could care less if they'd died.

"Yeah, I understand," Agent Blake concurred. The speed convoy zoomed towards the city. With no traffic at this time of the day, the houses of the suburbs zoomed by as if they were on a bullet train. "Are you Girls nervous?"

Blossom and Bubbles giggled nervously, giving him all the answers he needed. "Not at all," Buttercup said, with a mean look on her face. Whatever nervousness she felt was minuscule compared to the promise of fun and explosions.

"You three are right to be nervous," Blake said. "So was I on my first operation. But you know what I didn't have?"

"What?" Blossom asked, her voice weak and loaded with fear.

"I didn't have superpowers," Blake said, but it didn't help scare away the butterflies in Blossom and Bubbles' stomach. "And I was going up against people much, much stronger than me. And here I am, you know, still in one piece." What he didn't mention was the fact that he was one of the lucky ones. But that would be a story for another time, perhaps when they were much older. He hoped that they could get much older.

Blossom could only remember that horrific scene at the gas station, where men were shot and burnt. Bubbles remembered it too. Buttercup, in the meantime, remembered the scene fondly. The explosion was awesome to behold.

"Girls, everything will be fine," Professor Utonium cut in. He was growing jealous of Agent Blake's monopoly over the Girls when it came to combat situations. He had to say something and stay relevant somehow. "You're far stronger than you know. We've seen that in the labs. You can do this."

The rest of the journey, short though because of the speed of their transport, was spent in silence punctuated by radio chatter on the Lamborghini's on board radio. Blossom leaned against the Professor, unable to fully enjoy the warmth of his body because of her thick kevlar gear. Bubbles leaned on Blossom while Buttercup leaned against the door, looking outside, enjoying the speed, enjoying the rush of being psyched up for the kill.

Townsville Central Bank. Mission Time - 24 mins

The speed transports carrying the three subjects of Project Powerpuff slowed down and crawled through what was practically a war zone. Long before they had reached their destination, there were police barriers in place that they had to get through, guarded by SWAT cops who looked like soldiers on duty. At the barriers, police officers were denying entry to journalists and reporters, marked clearly by their flashing cameras and mics and sound recorders.

A police copter flew overhead, illuminating dark spots and alleys with its spotlight. Twenty or more police cruisers and vans surrounded a classically-inspired white-gray building, with police officers and SWATs hiding behind them, pointing their revolvers, or pistols, or shotguns and rifles forward. 'Townsville Central Bank' was carved and painted neatly above a row of white Greek columns. Humvees belonging to the USDO, a mere three or so, were scattered throughout the police blockade, but they stood out, what with the mounted machineguns on top of the humvees and the men in black and grey, armed to the teeth more for war than quelling criminal elements. The scene was chaotic, with the thumping of helicopter blades above, men shouting orders and reports or general expletives and comments. A black man in a gray suit spoke into a loudhailer, demanding the surrender of whoever had warranted this level of attention.

The Girls' speed transports joined the metal herd, parking right beside its own white brethren. All eyes were on the Lamborghinis, which supposedly held the secret weapons to eradicate crime in Townsville. There had been word on the streets about it, but the Girls had been kept a secret from practically everyone, including the rank-and-file and the media, except for the top brass in charge.

"Ready, Girls?" Agent Blake asked kindly, putting his hand over the controls to the door, but not pressing it just yet.

Blossom and Bubbles were shaking.

"I can't feel my legs…" Bubbles mewled.

Blossom, on the other hand, was just staring at the floor, trying to control the outpouring of fear and nervousness in her.

"Just wait, Blake," the professor said. He turned to Blossom, and took her hands.

"Well, Blossom, this is it," he said. The red-haired girl looked up at him, into those eyes that loved her as if she was his own. As far as she knew, she was his own biological daughter. "This is what you're born to do, your destiny."

"Dad, I don't want to go," Blossom suddenly said.

"You have to. This is what you want; it is why you're so special," the professor said. He'd wished otherwise, to be able to tell her that she didn't need to go, that he'd be able to take her home and forget about all that crime-fighting nonsense, and preferably in a new city as far away from Townsville as possible. Crime-free Singapore over the Pacific would make a good choice, but then again, he knew that the USDO would never let that fly. This was it - the Girls would either have to fly, or crash.

"I know…" Blossom mumbled. Tears rolled down her eyes. She hadn't worn her combat goggles yet, which made wiping them away easy for the professor.

"It's okay for you to cry when you're with me, but you have to be strong out there, alright?" Professor Utonium advised her one last time. He hugged her, and Blossom took him tightly. "And one more thing, honey."

"Hmm?" Blossom sniffled.

"Stay the same, no matter what, okay? Don't let the city change you," the professor was almost pleading. "Please be my little Blossom forever?"

"I promise, Daddy. I'll always be your Blossom," she said, before letting go of her father.

"Alright. Now go, get out there," the professor said, then turned to his other Girls. "Take good care of each other. The world out there is harsh, but as long as the three of you are together, you'll always have a family out there."

Agent Blake opened the doors of the speed transport. A flood of noise came gushing in. Sirens, screams and shouts. A few gunshots rang out from the bank, the rattle of numerous automatics returning fire. Loudhailer orders. Radio chatter in the wind.

"Girls, Blackwater will be there to guide you! Huge, gigantic guy, you can't miss him! Go to him!" Agent Blake instructed. Buttercup was the first to hop off the speed transport. Blossom continued to stare into the professor's eyes, still unwilling to go, still holding onto his hands, but Bubbles pulled at her.

"C'mon, Blossom, we have to go…" Bubbles said as she tugged at Blossom. Reluctantly, father and daughter let go of each other. Professor Utonium felt a tear dripping, so he wiped it away with a finger.

Together as three, Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup walked towards a Humvee, where a giant man in SWAT gear stood with his arms crossed, waiting. Blossom looked over her shoulders at the professor one last time, before she disappeared from view as a large group of police officers ran across. They made a turn, and then they were gone.

Townsville Central Bank. Mission Time - 28 mins

Police officers and SWAT cops alike stared at the Girls as they passed, their mouths agape and their eyes wide with surprise. The Girls were the walking definition of a contradiction - they were supposed to be their secret weapons, and yet they were children. They were said to be powerful, but they appeared weak and afraid. They were suited from head to toe in SWAT gear equivalent or even better than that of an actual SWAT cop's, and yet there they were, holding hands with each other as Kindergartners were wont to do.

"Took the three of you long enough to get here!" Blackwater bellowed the moment he saw them.

"H-hi, you must be Mister Blackwater..." Blossom spoke up, shaken like never before, a fact hidden by her armor. "I'm Blossom-"

"I know bloody well who the hell you are," Blackwater yelled. "We met in your house, remember?"

"Yes, but I didn't know your name," Blossom said.

"Yeah whatever, now let's talk business," Blackwater interrupted. He pointed at the Greek-inspired architecture before him. The Central Bank. "You see that big, white building there? That's where all the bad guys are. Now, I need one of you to take charge as the leader. Who is it?"

"I can be the leader," Blossom volunteered, but she wasn't the only one.

"Oh! Oh! Pick me!" Buttercup exclaimed excitedly as she jumped up and down.

Only Bubbles remained averse to the idea of a promotion.

Blackwater stared at the red and the green girls. He ran through his brain for the solution. Who should the leader be? He'd read the professor's report on their personalities. The green one was the tough one, something of a liar and a cheat, which meant that she was capable of both aggression and deception in equal measure. But Selicia had reported that Buttercup seem to favor outright aggression. Or should it be the red one, who was highly intelligent and creative, and not lacking in her martial abilities either, judging from Selicia's reports? The blue one was definitely out - she seemed to have no redeeming qualities in his eyes.

He'd finally settled on the red one. What was her name again? Blossom. He needed someone intelligent enough to interpret and follow orders - with the Project Powerpuff subjects, it would be a stretch to say that, but he had to take what he could get. Besides, this Blossom girl was prominently marked and easy to identify with the red bow attached to her helmet and her flaming red hair flowing out of the bottom of her helmet, looking a little like a cloak. Turning around, he pulled something out of his Humvee. An headphone with a mic, with a wire running down to nowhere.

"Blossom, you're taking point. Put this on," the Chief of Security said to her. He handed it over to her. Blossom looked at it as if it was some sort of alien artifact. She turned it around and looked into the earpiece, finding it curious.

"What do I do with it?" Blossom asked innocently. Meanwhile, Buttercup was pissed off. She had lost out to Blossom again, and she didn't like that. To her, fighting was supposed to be her territory, and this was supposed to be it. And Blossom had taken it away from her again, along with everything else.

"What, are you born yesterday!?" Chief of Security Blackwater exclaimed in disbelief.

"Actually, we were born three weeks ago…" Blossom corrected.

"Are you sassing me, Blossom!?" Blackwater barked at the girl, who only looked at him in confusion.

"I don't understand. What's sassing?" Blossom asked, but her question went unanswered as the Chief of Security stared, as if unsure of what to do with her. She'd have to ask the professor about that word later, or Miss Keane the next day.

"Oh, for f- Take your damn helmet off, let me put this on for you," Blackwater snatched the headphone back roughly. The Girls were so short and him so tall that he had to kneel all the way down and hunch his back to jack the headphone in. The wire was too long for her that it had to be tied, but at least the adjustable headphone could fit at the shortest extension. All the while, police officers were shaking their heads in disbelief - these three Girls were supposed to be their salvation? If they weren't in a deadly siege at one of the most important locations of Townsville, they'd be laughing right now.

Blackwater shoved the headphone on top of Blossom's head roughly. "Ow!" she cried.

"Shut up!" he barked, and adjusted the mic so that it was an inch away from her mouth.

They tested the radio after that, and it was loud and clear. Now, Blackwater's voice would be scolding her everywhere she went. "Cool, this would come in handy in a pillow fort," Blossom remarked, trying to find the light in this decidedly dark night.

"Yeah, yeah," Blackwater said dismissively. "Now come 'ere and listen up!" the Girls huddled around Blackwater. "There's about twenty of them in there. Intel says that there's about twelve in the lobby, four around the back and four on the second floor. They've locked down the building pretty tightly, except for the front entrance. They've got hostages. A few bankers, some tellers, some customers. Eight of them."

"What's a hostage?" Bubbles raised her hand and asked, as if she was in a classroom.

"You thumbsucking-" Blackwater nearly blew his top once more, before deciding that it would be faster if he just explain what a 'hostage' was. Bubbles stuck her thumb into her mouth. Blackwater glared at her. "A hostage is someone the bad guys will kill if we don't do what they say. Can you remove your God-damn thumb from your God-damn mouth?"

"Sorry, Mister Blacky," Bubbles said after doing as he asked.

"It's Blackwater! Black-wa-ter! Get that right!" the Chief of Security yelled. It was worst than handling the recruits. He actually felt like dying, trying to put these kids in line to crash the bank robbers' party.

Just then, Commissioner Davis, the black guy in gray, joined them. "I got 'em talking, and they agreed to let us send in a negotiator. Or three." He nodded at the Girls.

"Here's what I want you three to do, and it's simple enough for you kids to understand: Get in through the front entrance, demand that they release the hostages, then demand their surrender. If they do not surrender, kill or knock them out. It's that simple."

Blossom put up a hand.

"What?" Blackwater said, seething with anger.

"But what if I don't want to kill anyone?" Blossom asked.

"I don't care how you do it, stupid! Just make sure they can't hurt anyone!" Blackwater barked. Blossom shook at being called stupid. She thought that she was anything but that - the professor had said so. She could feel her lips trembling and tears welling up, but she bit it down, and somehow managed to stop herself from melting down despite her age. The professor had said that she needed to be strong, and she was going to be strong. "Is that understood!? Or do I have to spell it out for you!?"

"I understand, Mister Blackwater," Blossom acknowledged, her voice still trembling.

"The three of you will address me as sir, or chief, from now on. Understand?" Blackwater added.

"Yes, Mister Chief," Bubbles said.

"It's just chief, or sir. Not 'Mister Chief'. I'm not some rabbit on a cereal box, okay?" Blackwater lectured - running out of steam to be angry. "Alright? I don't have my own TV commercial or kid's cartoon."

"Urgh, can we get going now, chief?" Buttercup made her only contribution.

"Only if I say so. But yes, the three of you should move in now," Blackwater said, pointing at the entrance of the Townsville Central Bank.

"Girls - kids, just approach the bank nice and slow - don't give yourselves away right away," Commissioner Davis advised them. "Keep them superpowers a surprise."

"I like surprises!" Bubbles added.

"And I'm sure they do too," Davis said with a smirk. If everything goes well, the siege could end with no blood being spilled. With the Girls being bulletproof, they could easily wipe out the robbers without getting hurt - at least, that's what he knew.

Another police officer arrived before the Girls could leave. A familiar face, which the Girls recognized immediately. Detective Mullens. He frowned at them, at how helpless he was, now that these… secret weapons were taking over the operation. He would have preferred going in on his own than to put his case with the Lombardi in their hands. 'Kids, seriously?' he thought. 'They're serious. They're actually here, about to storm the bank.'

"Commissioner sir, Chief of security," he greeted the two top brass in his presence, before turning to the rascals who had crashed the party. "I don't know what you're going to do and how you're going to do it, but I need their leader and a few of them alive for questioning. You got that, diaper-wearers?"

"I- I'm not going to kill any of them," Blossom repeated herself, caught off-guard by Mullen's sudden appearance, and his usual brusqueness. What she said, however, didn't seem to satisfy the detective, who mumbled to himself something whilst shaking his head at the Girls before going back to his car.

Townsville Central Bank. Mission Time - 37 mins

"Why was everyone so mad?" Bubbles wondered innocently as they walked up the steps towards the huge entrance of the Greek architecture.

"I don't know, but once we do good, I'm sure they're bound to love us!" Blossom said.

"They'll love us alright, after what I'll do later," Buttercup said.

"Easy does it. Go through the front doors. They're waiting for you," Blackwater ordered through Blossom's headphone. He seemed less agitated and fierce through the radio.

"So, 'leader'," Buttercup said sarcastically. Blossom looked at her, a mix of anger and sadness in her eyes, clearly offended. She'd hoped for her sisters to be happy and supportive of her, just like Daddy. "What do we do if we have to fight?"

"We won't have to. I'll just talk to them. I'm sure the bad guys inside will understand," Blossom told Buttercup her 'plan'. There's a first time for everything.

"But what will you say? They sound mean," Bubbles asked.

"Exactly what Daddy would tell us, that sulking in a room doesn't help but coming out to face the music does. Besides, they're causing lots of people to be unhappy. I'm sure they'll listen," Blossom said as they passed through the door.

And what they found on the opposite side of it was anything but nice. Guns of all shapes and sizes were pointed at them the moment they passed through. A few other men and a woman, all wearing ski masks and gloves, were guarding about eight hostages; men in suits, women in dresses. Some of them were bleeding in the head and arms and legs. The lobby of the Central Bank was huge. It took them a minute to cross the half of it.

"Oi! What the hell is this bullshit!" one of the masked man pointing a shotgun at them shouted rudely.

They had expected a police officer, or a fancy man in a fancy suit coming through the door. What they didn't expect were three little girls in thick, all-covering SWAT armor colored red, blue and green. To top it all off, one of them had a cute little bow attached to the back of her helmet.

"If you girl scouts are out sellin' cookies, you're in the wrong place!" another of them said, in a Harlem accent.

The fact that the Girls were armed with pistols did not go unnoticed. The crooks kept their guns up. They knew that something was up; the cops in Townsville, at least the real ones anyway, might be desperate, but they weren't stupid. Something was up with the girls they'd sent in. They just didn't know what it was.

"But we have no cookies!" Bubbles was the first to speak, being more spontaneous. Some of the robbers exchanged confused looks.

"Blossom, demand that they release the hostages and surrender," Blackwater instructed the leader of the trio through the radio. Blossom thought that she should try to make friends with the robbers first. It'd worked before with Mister Blake and his pals, why shouldn't it work now?

"Erm, hi! My name's Blossom. What's your name?" Blossom introduced herself, waving at them.

"Yeah? And why should I tell you ma' name, 'Blossom'? What's it to you?" the black robber behind the counter said defensively. He straightened up, instead of hiding behind the teller's counter. Unlike his friends, he'd at least put his silver-plated pistol away. Blossom thought that they were on the way to being friends.

"Erm… I don't know. I just thought we'd be friends and talk," Blossom said. The robbers could see nothing but deception in her honest words. Something was very wrong with the three girls, they just couldn't put their finger on it, and it wasn't the fact that they were decked out in SWAT gear heavier than themselves.

"Yeah? Well, I ain't telling you ma' name, fool. What kind of idiot do you think I am?" the black robber said.

"O-okay," Blossom agreed. Things weren't going as well as she had hoped. She took a quick gander at the hostages again. They looked really unhappy, and some of them in pain. A man had half his shirt covered in blood. They were afraid for their lives, and upon seeing who had come to their rescue, became terrified. It wasn't the cavalry they were expecting. "Erm- Could you please let those people go?" Blossom pointed timidly at the hostages. "They don't look good. I think some of them need a doctor for their boo-boos…"

"You're damn right they don't look good. You want us to be friends? How 'bout you ask your police boys outside to let us go, and then we'll talk about being friends," the black robber said. It was becoming clear that he was the leader of the robbers.

"Blackwater here, I need to know what's going on, over," the Chief of Security asked over the radio.

"Mister Robber wants to leave before he lets go of the hostages," Blossom replied into the mic.

"Unacceptable! Demand their surrender immediately! If they're not surrendering, take them down! You got that!? They're either handing over their weapons, or you're attacking them!" Blackwater barked into the radio, and it didn't help Blossom feel any less tense or nervous. She felt way over her head. She just wanted to see her Daddy again.

"But-"

"No buts, Blossom! Do what an adult tells you to do! Over and out!" Blackwater demanded over the radio. Blossom looked at the robbers once more. Mister Robber was going to be so disappointed.

"Well?" the leader of the robbers asked impatiently.

"My friends outside wouldn't allow it," Blossom said, hating the pissed-off glare the robbers were now giving her. "Please stop this, Mister Robber. Those people are hurt. If you'd just give me your weapons-"

"Give you my weapons? Haha! Hahaha!" Laughter erupted from the leader of the robbers. He pulled his mask off, revealing the face of a bald, black man with a scorpion tattoo on his right cheek. He pulled his silver gun out, pointing it at Blossom, startling her. "How about if I blow your motherfuckin' head off with this motherfuckin' gun!? How about that!? Ain't no little white bitch going to tell me what to do!"

"Language! And we're not white, we're red, blue and green!" Bubbles chided. Even the otherwise sweet Bubbles was miffed.

"Watch your mouth before I punch it, mister!" Buttercup said, raring to go. She'd been waiting long enough. This was supposed to be her moment to shine, perhaps to outshine her overachieving sister and gain more love from Daddy and Mommy. Blossom had to physically hold her back.

The head robber pointed his pistol at Buttercup. "What, you think I ain't got the guts to shoot a little girl!? If you're going to dress like a pig, I'll plug you dead like a pig!"

"But we're not pigs!" Bubbles said, upset at the accusation, however silly the form it had taken in Bubbles' mind was.

For the first time, Blossom felt anger rising in her. All she'd wanted to do was to make friends, fight crime and make everyone happy, ending the day with a 'happily ever after'. Yet, Mister Robber had been rude all the way. She glared at him, her eyebrows knitted together in anger. The head robber didn't like that one bit.

"Hey Rob, you got beads on the blue one? Show them what I'm talkin' about," the head robber ordered menacingly.

Another robber, this one armed with a shotgun, pointed his weapon at Bubbles and, without warning, pulled the trigger. The hostages screamed, the women loud and shrill.

Bubbles felt her vision go white in an instant as she felt shotgun pellets shattering her goggles and bouncing off her left eye and face. She was blasted off her feet, and didn't even have the time to scream. The pain felt was so excruciating, so much so that when Bubbles hit the floor, she didn't move. Couldn't. It was paralyzing, and more.

"BUBBLES!" Blossom screamed, rushing to her side. Buttercup clenched her fists, taking steps towards the robbers, screaming threats.

"Shots fired in the bank!" the police radio channel was abuzz with activity after that. "Eagle eyes, do you have-" "Casualty count still pending-" "All units, all units-" "Precinct 13 to 15 SWAT units prepare for-"

"Blossom, what the hell is going on!?" Blackwater screamed into Blossom's headphone, but Blossom wasn't listening. She was trying to shake Bubbles awake, but she wouldn't wake up. Glass shards were scattered all over her face, which wore an almost peaceful look, strangely. It scared Blossom, seeing her like this. There was no blood however, no damage.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! The head robber, in the meantime, was unloading shots at Buttercup, who shielded her face as he did that. Bullets were bouncing off Buttercup's helmet, defacing it. Some had put holes in her uniform, plastering themselves on the skin of her forearm harmlessly. Except they felt hot. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Quit it!"

"What… Da… Hell…" the robbers' leader said in disbelief. Buttercup was still standing, no worse for wear.

"Buttercup, run!" Blossom shouted, her first order as leader, before taking the unconscious Bubbles by the arm and dragging her towards some wooden counters between the exit and the robbers.

Buttercup ran forward instead, launching herself at the robber leader in a flying kick. She could jump incredibly high, and she sailed right over the counter the robbers were hiding behind, landing a hard, devastating kick in the man's chest, sending both she and her target flying a distance and slide on the floor. She'd landed all wrong, and had ended up on her back instead.

"Oh fu- Sh-she killed the boss!" one of the robbers shouted in terror. It was obvious that Robber Leader was dead. A pool of blood was expanding rapidly underneath him. Blood had spurted from his mouth and his chest had caved in. The look on his face was that of pure horror as he tried to breathe his last in his death throes.

Meanwhile, a few robbers were unloading automatic shots with SMGs and rifles at Blossom as she was retreating into cover, pulling Bubbles behind her. She could feel bullets stinging her back, cracking or denting her kevlar, or slipping past her armor and digging through the fabric of her gear and uniform.

"What the 'ell are they!" one of the robbers shouted after realizing that the girls should have been dead long ago, but weren't – perhaps with the exception of the blue one.

"Light her up!" another robber screamed. Guns were pointed at Buttercup, something like eight or nine of them. She'd found out too late that she was surrounded with no help in sight. "Just keep firing!"

"Blossom! What are you doing!?" Buttercup shouted when she realized she had been left behind. She could feel sharp pain all over her as she got what she wanted: explosions on all sides, except that it came in the form of an undesirable storm of lead raining down on her from everywhere. She screamed as she ran away with her eyes closed, leaving bloody footprints that faded within a short distance. Crashing through a wooden door which broke apart and she broke through, she sprinted to the middle service area where Blossom and Bubbles were, and jumped over counter, landing next to them on all fours.

There, Blossom was still trying to shake Bubbles awake - it was all she knew when it came to first aid. "Wake up! Bubbles, wake up!" she cried, literally. Her goggles were off, and her tears were overflowing.

"Blossom! You left me back there! How could you!?" Buttercup screamed behind her back, furious.

Artist's Impression of The 1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank by bluedotdenizen

Source: History of the Powerpuff Girls, 2008. Celebrating 20 years of the Powerpuff Girls. A Powerpuff Girls Museum Publication.

"Look at what they did to Bubbles!" Blossom sobbed as she held Bubbles, her blue sister's head in the crook of her elbow. Her other arm was wrapped around her torso. The blonde was still non-responsive. The remaining half of her combat goggles was still hanging off an ear, jagged and twisted.

Just then, a molotov exploded above them, setting fire to the service counters they were hiding behind. "Die, Diablos! Die!" one of the robbers shouted, as much in aggression as in fear, from half the bank service area away.

"I don't care! She's weak and useless anyways! We can kill more of them!" Buttercup shouted. "We have to go back!"

"We can't, Buttercup! We have to run! Look at Bubbles!" Blossom countered. "I'm the leader! You're supposed to listen to the leader!"

Buttercup considered the options - she could either go out there herself, or run away with her sisters. The bullets still whizzing overhead, and a second molotov exploding near them made that dilemma an easy one to solve. There were too many of them, and the shots they were firing stung to high heaven that she actually felt faint and nauseous from having taken too many hits.

"Ahhhh!" Buttercup screamed unintelligibly, frustrated. "Fine!" Pulling her pistol out and cocking it, she got ready to pop out.

"What are you doing!?" Blossom asked. It looked as if Buttercup was doing the exact opposite of retreating. Buttercup shot her a condescending glare.

"I'm going to scare them with my gun. When I start shooting, you run," she said. Leaning against the counter, which was starting to feel hot from the spreading fire, she got up from her knee, popping out to fire some wild shots with her compact Beretta.

Blossom bolted, with Bubbles in her arms.

Buttercup was only able to let off a few shots, killing no one, before a hail of bullets struck her in the helmet, cheek and face. She ran on the trail of her sisters' after that, firing more shots behind her as she was sprinting. It'd worked however, forcing some of the robbers to duck for cover when she'd fired. Just then, a Molotov cocktail was thrown at her, which smashed on her back, coating her in fire and smoke. But there was only one thing she could do - run. It was too late to turn back and fight now.

Just ahead, Blossom smashed through the front door with her shoulder. Outside, she saw squads of SWAT officers and USDO soldiers advancing on the bank, substituting them. Buttercup jumped through the window, diving for the floor in a belly flop, landing hard, knocking the wind out of her. She was still on fire, but a police officer threw his jacket over her to put out the flames. The Girls hid under the windows as the SWAT officers and their USDO allies took up positions by the doors and windows, exchanging shots with the trapped robbers within. Bullets peppered the walls. One SWAT cop leaned out to fire a few rounds, only to be shot in the shoulder. He fell over, shouting, writhing on the ground. A grenade exploded in a far window, blowing a USDO soldier and SWAT cop off their feet, neither of them moving. The latter had fallen in such a way that his eyes had rolled over to stare at the Girls, with blood dripping in great volumes from his mouth. Blossom shook in fear at the violence around her. Buttercup glared at her, smoke still rising from her body, unable to forgive her sister for what she perceived as betrayal.

Townsville Central Bank. Mission Time - 56 mins

When the battle was won and things had settled down, the police and meagre USDO presence was able to swarm over the bank, arresting the few remaining robbers who were still alive. The Girls were still hiding under the windows outside. Blossom stared miserably into the distance while Buttercup was still wordlessly telling Blossom how much she hated her with just her eyes alone. Bubbles had come to not long ago, her left eye still shut because of the glass shards trapped inside, her face pale and her right eye completely glassy.

Chief of Security Blackwater, with several USDO SWAT operatives flanking him, stopped before them and looked down at them condescendingly. "Explain yourselves," the huge man commanded them coldly. The Girls stood up; Bubbles had to be helped and led to Blackwater. It was as if she'd lost all agency and control over herself.

"They… Just…" Blossom tried to explain, but the moment she recounted what had happened, she couldn't help but to let the waterworks flow.

"The robbers j-just started shooting at us!" she cried, wiping her tears, only for more to replace them. "They- They- Wouldn't listen- They-"

"You ran away when you were supposed to help me fight them!" Buttercup jabbed at Blossom from the side. She was still smoking from the Molotov thrown at her. "They shot me a gazillion times and burned me because of you!"

"I was saving Bubbles, you selfish idiot!" Blossom screamed back at Buttercup, stomping her foot in the snow. "You're stupid! You're selfish! You wouldn't listen to me! I was the leader and you wouldn't listen to me! You deserve getting burned! No wonder Daddy hates you!"

"You- You take that back!" Buttercup could feel her own tear ducts going on overdrive because of what Blossom said. "Dad doesn't hate me! You're lying!"

Meanwhile, Bubbles remained silent, her face still pale and eyes still distant. She could be left there for hours and she'd still be standing there like a statue.

"You're a liar! Liar, liar, liar! Dad doesn't hate me!" Buttercup cried, wiping her own tears away.

Blackwater was seething mad. It was a glaring reminder that the USDO's grand achievement was a trio of super-powered kindergartners, who, for now, seemed to be more kindergartner than super-powered. It was like a slap in the face for all the dedication and hard work he'd put into the USDO and what the organization seek to accomplish. It was a disaster - the Girls' maiden mission was supposed to prove the organization's worth, pave the way for greater things. Everything had seemed so possible, so close, and now uncertainty was the only thing in the air. For all he knew, it could even spell the end of their involvement in Townsville.

"Shut up! The three of you!" he bellowed, even though Bubbles hadn't said a word. "Shut up! And stop mewling like a bunch of infants!"

"But- But- Mister Chief- She lied about Daddy hating me!" Buttercup cried. "Tell her, chief, tell her she's lying!"

"The robbers- they- shot us- I was just trying to nice and- and- talking to them!" Blossom cried inconsolably while she continued to try to explain herself in vain. That she was in pieces over what had happened made it an impossible task despite her intelligence. "I- They- I even told them I'd like to be friends with them! And they shot us!"

"Shut the fuck up! The two of you!" Blackwater swore, gesticulating wildly. He's had enough. "I don't care! The three of you darn screwed up! God damn it! You three are useless for all the abilities you're given!"

Upon hearing it from the Chief of Security, Blossom and Buttercup just cried harder.

"Get lost! Get out of my sight! I don't want to hear your blabbering! If you're going to cry like babies, go cry to your 'father'! Now git!" Blackwater was nearly bursting at the seams screaming his head off, pointing in the general direction of their speed transports. With all that being said and done, he walked away, turning his back on the Girls, leaving them in the snow. Even then, he was still screaming obscenities to himself, swinging his fists in anger, kicking the wheel of a humvee on the way to the bank, and slamming the hood of the same vehicle with his fist.

With nothing left for them, Blossom and Buttercup shuffled towards their Lamborghinis, eyes on the ground as they continued to wipe silent tears that would never end away. Bubbles just stood where she was, staring into the distance with her one unobstructed eye, and Blossom had to turn around to take her by the hand and lead her back to their father.

Chapter Text

Chapter 43: Code

City of Townsville. Business District. Townsville Central Bank.

14 DEC 1988 (Wednesday). 2249.

Professor Utonium was worried sick. The past twenty minutes was the longest twenty minutes of his life, and he'd spent most of it with his face in his hands, as if he didn't want to see what was next, as if he was an ostrich with his head in the sand. In this state, he was constantly going over his Girls' data mentally, estimating and trying to divine an answer as to how they would fare in any given scenario. He was stuck, a computer recursively calculating and recalculating.

"Dad?" Blossom's voice broke him out of his miserable trance-like state. He raised his head immediately in the direction of that voice. It really was Blossom, still alive, still his baby girl. She was tugging at Bubbles arm, who followed her with an eye squeezed shut, and her Goggles ruined. Buttercup ran up to him, putting her arms around his waist. She smelled like ash. Her uniform and gear was largely ruined by machinegun fire.

"Dad! Please don't hate me! Please, please, please!" Buttercup cried. The professor put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze.

"What are you talking about, Buttercup? Why would I hate you?" the professor asked quizzically. 'What's going on?' he thought.

"Dad…" Blossom whimpered as she got closer. She had been crying. The moment she got to her Daddy, she buried her face in his stomach. He could feel his lab coat getting wet. Bubbles, on the other hand, just stood where she was led to, nearby. She was still staring into space, with a lethargic look on her face. "It was h-horrible, Dad!"

"Girls, what happened?" the professor asked. If the state of the Girls were any indication, it couldn't be anything good. Blossom told the professor everything, somehow managing it between sobs and sniffles - how the robbers had verbally abused them even when she tried to be friendly, how the bad guys just shot them just because they could, how Mister Blackwater had done nothing but shout at them. The professor was especially pissed at the last fact. He'd have to make a phone call later to set things straight with Blackwater.

"We failed, Daddy," Blossom finally said. She was sitting in the car with her legs outside the vehicle, with the professor kneeling down beside her. Buttercup was leaning on the professor, with her arms around his neck. "Maybe Mister Blackwater is right. We're-" Blossom considered her words, and decided to change it. "I'm useless and stupid."

"No, Blossom, you can't say that," the professor hurried to correct his beloved quickly - it would be a dangerous thing for a child to believe that she was useless and stupid. It wouldn't exactly be the most enabling thing in the world. "You're a bright little girl, and this is just your first time doing something adults do. We've all failed time and again, Blossom. I know I've failed to do some things." The professor said this with loaded words, his heart heavy - he'd failed to protect them, to emancipate them from the controlling tendencies of the USDO. He'd failed Eileen, his late wife, and Bloome, his late daughter, who, now that he thought about it, looked a little like Blossom.

"But it was really bad, Dad," Blossom went on, still unable to shake off the dark cloud over her head, that feeling of worthlessness. "I couldn't do anything right, and the poor policemen had to do everything for us. They're hurt because of me."

In Blossom's mind, she remembered seeing the SWAT officer getting blown up by a fragmentary grenade. How the shrapnel had tore at him, and how, when he landed on the ground, his head lolled to face her with a bloody mouth permanently wide open as if in an eternal scream, his dead eyes staring at her accusingly. Blossom shook at the thought of it, and tears flowed down her cheek anew.

"You can't think that way, Blossom. You're not the bad guy here. You didn't hurt those men. The robbers did," the professor said as he hugged his little girl. The poor red-haired girl was shaking so much in his arms, whimpering. She was nothing like the killing machine the USDO thought she was, nothing like it at all. It wasn't Blossom who failed. It was Townsville, who couldn't protect their own city in the first place, and the USDO, who couldn't take her for who she was. He'd heard over the radio what they'd done. They'd sent the three of them up against 20 robbers on their first day, when they had no prior experience to fall back on, and only a few days of training on and off.

"Dad, I killed one of them. Are you proud of me?" Buttercup said from behind him. It shocked the professor, how she'd said such a thing without remorse, with the same kind of excitement a five-year-old would have on completing a crayon drawing. Professor Utonium gestured for her to let him go. Buttercup unwrapped her arms around his neck, those arms that had killed, and could kill him had she flexed her muscles around his neck. He turned to look at her. There were no more tears, only a smile as if a child looking for approval. "I went in there and jumped, and I kicked him in the chest! Just like Mommy taught me!"

"Buttercup…" the professor looked into her eyes, searching her soul. He was at a loss for words. One of his Girls had killed at the tender age of three weeks. It was wrong. Very wrong. "It's wrong to kill. You shouldn't feel happy about it."

"But Dad! He was a bad guy and he was shooting at me!" Buttercup insisted. It felt wrong, very wrong that her father stood on the side of the robbers when they were hurting his own daughter. Or at least, that was what it seemed like to her.

The professor looked around, to make sure that all three of his Girls were with him. From the looks of it, only two of them were, and Bubbles was only physically there. She seemed preoccupied inside, but it didn't matter. Sweet little Bubbles would never hurt a fly, and she didn't need this talk. "Girls, killing is wrong. It just is. And- I'm just not sure how to say this."

"He was shooting at me and it was painful…" Buttercup repeated herself; it was her only justification, or at least, the only one she cared to mention. On the other hand, killing that man felt glorious and empowering, and it was fun to apply what Mommy had taught her, to watch how it would look like in real life, rather than what a flying kick would do to a crash test dummy. "Why are policemen allowed to kill and I'm not?"

"Buttercup-" Professor Utonium growled at the green-eyed girl, but softly. In his mind, she didn't understand the implications of taking a life, and scolding her would be wrong. "You see, Girls, the three of you are special. With normal people like me, and the police, we get hurt or even die very easily. We have to protect ourselves. But with the three of you, well, with great power comes great responsibility. Do you understand?"

"Not really…" Buttercup said. The professor sighed. He could feel a headache coming on, so he rubbed his forehead. Buttercup stared at the ground, feeling less loved and more disappointing. She thought that Daddy would be proud of her. Instead, she felt more second-rate than ever.

"Those robbers- Some of them might not be so bad. Some of them could be desperate. They could be doing bad things because they were forced to. Or because they were poor. You can't always know who's truly bad and who is good. Buttercup- Girls, you hold great power in your hands. You can take them down without killing them. That way, the good won't have to die even if the truly evil deserve justice. Do you understand better now, Buttercup?"

"I guess…" Buttercup said, her hands behind her back as she played with her half-burnt boots and the snow. It felt like nothing more than a lecture, and she hadn't heard even half of it.

City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

14 DEC 1988 (Wednesday). 2314.

They were home within a half hour, speeding away from the Central Bank and arriving at the quiet suburbs as though the bank robbers were all boogeymen in a bad dream. Blake was silent throughout the journey, knowing that Professor Utonium had already said everything that needed to be said. The radio was sociopathic for a while, blaring out reports and information from the crime scene, but Agent Blake was quick to silence it, knowing that the Girls didn't need to hear it and be reminded of the mess at Central Bank.

Bubbles had been had been silent throughout. She'd never said a word since coming to, even when Professor Utonium had tried to speak to her, to get her to open up as he tended to the glass shards in her left eye at the Central Bank. He thought that she just needed time, having gone through a horrific thing that would have killed just about anyone else - a shotgun blast in the eye that must have been terribly painful, even if ineffective against her. Then there was the violence after that.

When Professor Utonium and the Girls approached The House, the door opened the moment they were close. Selicia had been waiting for them. At first, she was all smiles, perhaps confident that her Girls would shine on their first day, just like in school, but a single look at how the rest of the family look was all she needed to know that something had gone wrong.

"Supper or shower first? What do you Girls feel like doing?" she asked the Girls and her 'husband'. They were silent for a while. None of them could decide what to do. Had Blossom and Buttercup had their way, they would have gone right off to bed, preferably with the other sleeping elsewhere.

"I'm not really hungry, but supper first, I guess," Blossom said, looking up at her Mom.

"Right, anything for my sweethearts - Give me a minute to heat the muffins up, you Girls just sit down and rest," Selicia said, padding away into the kitchen, her steps hurried. The Girls looked like they'd been through hell, and it was her only way of making things right today. Blossom started peeling off her kevlar after that. Buttercup had to do that literally, due to the synthetic material in her SWAT gear melting after she was hit with a Molotov, mixing with the ash to give out a toxic, burnt smell that was almost just as thick. Metal rattled as they removed their gear, and dented bullets fell like marbles out of an upturned bag when they did.

"Don't worry about the mess, Girls. I'll clean it up later," the professor told them. The last thing they needed right now was to worry about the little things. It was surreal, however, how many bullets were shaken loose from their gear, from their uniform, and they were of all shapes and sizes too, from .44s to 9mms to shotgun pellets and 7.62mm rifle slugs. It was a shame that whatever few robbers were left after the police were done mopping up the bank couldn't be charged for aggravated attempted child murder and assault - considering that the USDO, in its infinite wisdom, had made Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup non-persons.

Bubbles had sat down on the sofa, doing nothing more all the while. Her gear and uniform was the most intact, but even she had a few holes in them from stray bullets fired at her while Blossom was dragging her to safety. The professor had to help her out of it, and when he did, she acted as if she hadn't been relieved of her heavy gear. Her blonde hair fell across half her face, and she didn't sweep it away - the professor had to do that for her too.

"Girls, supper's ready!" Selicia called from the kitchen. Buttercup was the first to respond, dashing to the dining table to have her cake. Blossom took Bubbles by the hand to lead her there. When she was at the table, she took what was obviously hers – the red cake. Seeing that Buttercup was sitting down on the nearest seat – 'typical, lazy Buttercup,' Blossom thought – she picked the seat furthest away from her, right on the opposite end.

"Bubbles, the blue one's yours," Selicia said to Bubbles, who stood there, looking past the cake. The blonde girl snapped into focus, well, barely, before taking reluctant steps towards the cake. Meanwhile, the mother was busy setting down cups of hot chocolate.

Buttercup was already digging into her food. She thrust her fork and knife at her cake hungrily and aggressively. Loudly.

Bubbles shook at the noise of the crashing of cutlery. Somehow, it reminded her of what had happened in the bank. It was loud here, and it was loud there. Her hand shook as she reached for the plate.

The ski-mask wearing bank robber pointed his shotgun at her. She thought she could see what was inside the tube of the weapon. Something red. And it burst into a clutch of metal bearings, rushing at her, biting her in the face. The pain was excruciating, the fact that a person could do such a thing to her even worse.

Bubbles leaned against the plate she'd reached, feeling her heart racing, unable to breathe. She felt faint, as if she was going to drop dead.

"Bubbles!" Selicia screamed when she fell, her plate of blue frosting cake crashing to the floor next to her. "Bubbles!"

Both Selicia and Professor Utonium ran up to her. Blossom stood up, peering down at her sister upset. Buttercup was still at her seat, closest to Bubbles but doing nothing except turning around and resting an arm on the back of chair, looking apathetically at Bubbles on the floor. Selicia held Bubbles in her arms, screaming for her to respond, but the girl wouldn't. Her eyes were glassy, staring a thousand yards through the ceiling. The professor examined her, noting the pulse and the lack of response in her eyes.

"It's worse than I thought. She's suffering from shock," the professor said.

"I'll take her up," Selicia offered, already cradling the fallen girl in her arms.

"No, give her to me. I'll do it," the professor rejected, eyeing her suspiciously. He motioned for Selicia to hand Bubbles over, and she did, dropped her into Professor Utonium's arms.

"Dad, is Bubbles going to be fine?" Blossom asked her Dad, her voice betraying how shattered she was inside by everything. It was the worst day ever.

"She'll be fine. She's just shocked, that's all. I'm sure it'll wear off soon," the professor said, but he was being as optimistic as possible. Things were already as bad as it was. He adjusted his grip on Bubbles, putting one of her arms around his neck, but she wasn't exerting much strength at all even on the scale of a 5-year-old to hold onto her Dad. He started towards the stairs. "She's a strong kid. She'll be fine with some TLC. Right, Bubbles?" Bubbles said nothing, but continued to stare through The House.

When they were gone, the kitchen had fallen into silence. Buttercup pigged out on her cake while Blossom took only tiny nibbles.

"I wish you were there, Mommy," Buttercup said with food still in her mouth. "You should have seen me! I was flying through the air, and I killed one of those robbers! Thanks for teaching me how to do a flying kick, Mom! I think I still have his blood on my boots."

"So that's where the smell came from," Selicia said. She smiled at Buttercup - it was as if her little favorite had grown up in just three weeks, already killing her first crook at such a young age. "Good job, my little SWAT cop! That'd teach those bastards."

Blossom did not like that her mother and sibling were celebrating murder. Buttercup stared at Mommy, not believing the language she used.

"Excuse my french," Selicia said, realizing that she'd gone overboard. But it'd felt like being with her fellow security officers again, and talking about killing intruders and subjects was a common topic, right up there with the use of vulgarities. She laughed, and Buttercup followed along. Blossom simply chuckled for a bit, but she only did so bitterly. Things had changed too much.

"And I would have killed more of them, Mom, had it not been for Bubbles!" Buttercup continued her war story. "She fell down after just one shot! She was lousy! And then Blossom decided to run away like a chicken-"

Blossom slammed her fists on the table. The plates and jumped. Her cup of chocolate spilled. Selicia and Buttercup's teetered and they had to hold their cup of chocolates down. If she didn't look like she could kill in the bank, she definitely looked like she could kill in The House at present.

"Stop picking on Bubbles, you Butthead!" Blossom snarled at Buttercup. "And I didn't run away, I was helping Bubbles!"

"Stop calling me that, you b-" Buttercup could not complete her sentence when Selicia interrupted.

"Girls! Please! Blossom, don't ever bang the table again! And stop calling your sister names!" Selicia lectured, standing up and pointing a warning finger at Blossom.

"But Mom!" Blossom tried to argue.

"No buts! Now, it might not sound pleasant, but if you messed up, you have to face the music! Especially when it's coming from your coming from your own beloved sister!" Selicia lectured, her face turning into one of seriousness.

"I didn't mess up, Mom, I just-" Blossom tried to speak, but she was cut off rather quickly.

"You just… what? Buttercup did her part for Townsville and you didn't," Selicia said coldly. "She'd taken a criminal off the street and you let the rest of them go, right?"

"And Blossom left me behind while I was fighting to run away with Bubbles," Buttercup added in the least helpful way for Blossom possible, a malicious grin spreading from ear to ear on her face.

"That's not true at all! I told you to run away too! You didn't listen! I had to help Bubbles after what they did to her! You were supposed to listen to me! Blackwater made me the leader!" Blossom argued. "Tell her, Mom! Tell her she's wrong!"

"Blossom, if you were the leader, you weren't supposed to leave anyone behind, least of all your sister! Bubbles would have been fine just lying there on the ground. You should have fought alongside Buttercup. If you were the leader, you were a bad one at that," Selicia said. Blossom stared at her, stunned that such sharp words could come from her mother.

"And if you're going to be an ungrateful brat and spill the hot chocolate I so lovingly worked hard to make for you, then you can go up to your room!" Selicia snapped at Blossom, whose lips trembled after being maligned by who she considered her own family.

"Mom-" Blossom tried one more time, but she had even less speaking time than before.

"Now! Blossom!" Selicia ordered. Hanging her head in submission, Blossom shuffled up the stairs, an odd bullet still falling out of her military pants, which was full of holes around the back area.

"Thanks, Mom. You're the best!" Buttercup said lovingly as she went up to her Mommy and hug her around the legs. "She'd said the same mean things about me in front of Mister Blackwater too, Mom."

"The Chief of Security Blackwater made Blossom the leader?" Selicia said, not quite in disbelief, but she wouldn't have picked Blossom. Sure, Blossom was smart and all that jazz, but Buttercup would have been a better choice in her opinion. She did not hesitate to attack, and she was brave. Plus, Buttercup was her favorite.

"Yeah, Mom, even when I asked to be made leader," Buttercup said, squeezing her beloved mother tightly. "Should I have been the leader, Mom?"

"Of course, darling. If it was up to me, I would have put you in charge," Selicia said.

"Hey Mom?"

"Yes, Buttercup?"

"I love you," Buttercup confessed.

"Me too, little angel, and to the death, too," Selicia said.

"Can I have Blossom's cake?" Buttercup asked.

"Sure. Would be a shame for it to go to waste," Selicia said.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44: Rivalry

City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House

14 DEC 1988 (Wednesday). 2341.

Despite it being way past bedtime, the Girls were allowed to stay up. After revealing that they were still feeling wide awake even after a tense bath in which Blossom and Buttercup refused to speak to each other, the professor had decided to let them be, deciding that he would check on them later. He reasoned that it was likely due to adrenaline, and when it wears off, they will likely feel the lull of sleep beckoning to them rather quickly. He'd gotten them to change into their night gowns in anticipation of that.

"Well, I'm not sleeping with you!" Buttercup yelled at Blossom. They had been expending their free time glaring at each other in anger, instead of playing with their toys.

"Good! So sleep on the floor then!" Blossom yelled back.

"Yeah? You should sleep on the floor instead! You ran away like a coward! You don't deserve a bed!" Buttercup countered, and each time they traded snarks, they got closer to each other, ready to tear the other's head off.

"It's my bed, Buttercup!" Blossom shouted.

"I don't see your name on it!" Buttercup countered.

"There's a pink stripe down the middle, so it's mine! Besides, I'm the leader now, so you're supposed to listen to me!" Blossom yelled. "And you didn't listen to me before!"

Just then, they heard a whimper coming from the bed. Looking over, Blossom saw that Bubbles was crying again. There was a milk bottle on the night stand beside her. The professor had observed that Bubbles might have regressed because of the shock, and she'd stopped walking, talking and started sucking her thumb and… She'd wet the bed, and Blossom knew why.

"Great work, Buttercup! You scared Bubbles again!" Blossom said sarcastically to Buttercup, pointing at the mess Bubbles had made, throwing back the sarcasm she'd learned from her wilder sister.

"Ugh, that crybaby!? She's always scared!" Buttercup accused. When Bubbles wailing grew louder, the ravenette, too, grew impatient. "Shut up, you baby! Now no one's sleeping in that bed because of you!"

Yet Bubbles would not stop crying. Buttercup took steps towards the blonde girl, and Blossom stood between them. "Why are you always picking on Bubbles, Buttercup!? She's your sister!"

"Get- Get out of my way!" Buttercup uttered as she tried to circle around Blossom, but the latter girl was always able to block her easily. When Buttercup tried to force her way through, Blossom gave her a shove, and she ended up falling on her butt.

That was the last straw to her. The one thing Buttercup never liked was to be bossed around, to have her superiority threatened. And it had been threatened and mocked and spat on far too many times. She got up to her feet, wearing a most terrifying look, as if a demon from some other world had possessed her. Blossom could feel cold sweat breaking out all over her the moment she saw it, but she stood her ground.

"Buttercup- Why don't you stop acting like this and we can- arck!" Blossom tried to reason with Buttercup when her sister savagely tackled her to the ground, and without giving her a chance to speak, wrapped her fingers around her neck, closing them in without mercy, without hesitation. Having had the wind knocked out of her when Buttercup had tackled her, Blossom could feel asphyxiation setting in almost immediately. She opened her mouth to try to speak, but nothing but a croak came out - she was practically begging to be released.

Buttercup stared into the eyes of her sister with an intensity that terrified Blossom; the total abandoning of reason, of decency and civilization and love, and the want to kill all too clear, the impulse unrestricted and strong. Saliva dribbled down a corner of her mouth, dripping down on Blossom's face, as if she couldn't wait to eat her up.

Blossom tried her best to fight back, punching Buttercup in the face, but she was weakened by the lack of air. She started kicking, but there was nothing to kick; Buttercup was crouching over her. In a last ditch attempt, Blossom pushed herself up, only for Buttercup to slam her against the foot of the bed. But then Blossom was able to curl her legs up before launching another desperate kick at Buttercup, and her foot just so happened to land a hard blow in between her legs. It got her to let go immediately.

Where previously Buttercup had been choking the life out of Blossom, she reached down to clutch at her privates, rolling on the ground, writhing in pain as she alternated between moaning and crying. "Oooh! Ow!" she cried as she curled up. "You didn't need to do that, Blossom!"

Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside their room. The door was opened soon after that. "Girls! Is everything alright!?" Buttercup immediately sat up, facing away from their Daddy. She feigned a toothy smile as she looked over her shoulder at the professor. Blossom did the same, beaming at the professor - though it was easier for her, considering that she wasn't in as much pain as Buttercup.

"Everything's fine, Daddy," Buttercup said, trying her best to keep the pain out of her voice, though she could feel as though her face could crack from her effort to keep her smile up.

"Bubbles' crying though. She'd wet the bed, Dad," Blossom added.

"Oh no! I'll clean her up right this minute," Professor Utonium said as he went around the bed to pick Bubbles up. It was just like the old days, it seemed to him, but it wasn't the way he wanted to relive it. "Now where did I put those diapers? I thought I didn't need them anymore - I'll be back with a new mattress, Girls."

With that, the professor left, closing the door. Buttercup's fake happy face turned into one contorted by pain as she resumed rolling on the ground in excruciating pain. Thousands of pounds of force from a desperate Blossom had ensured that it would last for a good long while. It looked so bad that even Blossom had started feeling sorry for her.

"Are you okay, Buttercup?" Blossom asked as she knelt next to her mean sister. She was even going to hug her when Buttercup pushed her away.

"Leave me alone, Bloss! Ouch…" Buttercup struggled to even speak coherently as she returned to the floor.

"I'm going to get Daddy, he'll know what to do!" Blossom said as she made to stand up, but Buttercup's hand shot up to her and took her by the wrist.

"No, wait! Please don't!" Buttercup pleaded. It would mean Daddy finding out about their fight, and then she would get into trouble, even fall further from his good graces - at least, that was how she saw it. The pain just would not go away, and for a moment, Buttercup despaired that it would never ever go away. Tears started misting in her eyes. "Stay with me, please! I'm sorry I hurt you."

Blossom sank back down to the floor, putting a hand on Buttercup's shoulder. She laid her sister on her lap, holding her, hoping that it would at least make the pain more bearable.

"Why are we always fighting, Buttercup?" Blossom said, feeling nostalgic of their more innocent past, when even Buttercup knew nothing about violence and explosions. "We're supposed to be sisters."

"I'm sorry, Blossom. I shouldn't have hurt you. I was so mad I couldn't control myself," Buttercup said, her eyes still squeezed shut and her body shaking from the pain. She was only revealing half the story; the hidden half being that she wanted so much to hurt her despite her need to please the father figure, but Blossom didn't need to hear that, just as much as she didn't need to hear that she actually intended to kill her for shoving her to the ground. But the light half she revealed existed and it was genuine; hurting her sister was something she shouldn't have done, and not just because Daddy said so.

Phone Recording 12141988-2341-TH

DOC: 14 DEC 1988

EXTRACTED: 14 DEC 1988

TRANSCRIPT START

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Hello?

Chief of Security Blackwater: This is Chief of Security Blackwater. Real comfy for you there? (Takes a puff of cigar)

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Sir?

Chief of Security Blackwater: You should know what happened at the bank by now, Selicia. Those petri kids had probably gone crying to mommy long ago, am I right?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Yes, sir.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Then you've failed miserably, am I fucking right!?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: N-not entirely, sir. Buttercup's promising. She killed the gang leader with nothing but her bare hands, sir. As for the rest…

Chief of Security Blackwater: The gang leader! She was supposed to leave the gang leader alive for questioning! That moron! The detective in charge of the Lombardi made that very clear before those meddling kids went in!

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: I… wasn't aware of that, sir.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Makes sense, considering that lil' bitch you call Buttercup is a compulsive liar. Tell me, what other sweet little nibbles had she put in your ear lately?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: I… I don't follow, sir.

Chief of Security Blackwater: From now on, I want things done exactly how I want it, when I want it, you hear me! Because, so help me, Selicia, when the time comes, I'll get those pretty little girls scrapped if you don't do what I say.

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Scrapped, sir? (Afraid)

Chief of Security Blackwater: It can happen, you know. There's going to be a meeting tomorrow because of this mess-up. You and your mad scientist sweetheart aren't invited.

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Sir, please… At least not Buttercup. And the others- they're just little girls, sir. They don't know anything!

Chief of Security Blackwater: Getting all soft on me, Goodwin?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: What do I have to do?

Chief of Security Blackwater: I want a full report on their combat capabilities, with input from agent Utonium. I want you to give them a crash course on counter-terrorism at HQ tomorrow. I want them fully equipped like a God-damn tac team. No more screw-ups. And Selicia?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Yes?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Tell your dearest husband to back the hell off. It won't do anyone any good. I don't need his voice in my ear when he's reluctant to prepare the Girls for duty himself. None of this would have happened if he'd played along with the rest of us. Well, I'm done talking. I'll probably need a bottle of whiskey thanks to your girls.

TRANSCRIPT END

City of Townsville. Downtown. USDO Townsville HQ

15 DEC 1988 (Thursday). 1432.

"Ooh, ooh! Can I try the shotgun, Mommy?" Buttercup pleaded excitedly.

"Later, Buttercup. Keep your pistol forward, honey. Don't point it at anyone unless you want 'im dead," Selicia instructed. The whole family was out on the underground range in the USDO headquarters in Townsville, which used to be a police complex. Everyone had a booth to themselves, and Selicia was in the middle. Even Professor Utonium was in on it, after lots of reasoning and begging and attempted seduction from Selicia in and out of bed since midnight. In the end, he agreed, just so he could motivate the Girls to train for their next call – and the Girls needed lots of motivation after what had happened at the central bank.

They began emptying a magazine each into their targets. Both Buttercup and Blossom had absorbed their lessons well that their grouping was tight enough to be mistaken for a trained soldier's. It helped that a pistol's recoil was nothing to them. After the initial surprise of the gun jumping up, it was all peachy from there. Bubbles did well, considering that she was still recovering from shock. Still in diapers, she was able to put half her shots into a paper target. Selicia was a natural sharpshooter, of course, while the professor did just well enough, having found no purpose in excelling in the art of violence.

They graduated to the SMG later, with each of them armed with an MP5. Buttercup and Blossom were naturals – the kickback of even a full-auto SMG was nothing compared to carrying the family sedan. Their groupings were so tight that only a drone could do better. They'd even received a standing ovation from the top brass who were watching. Well, except for Blackwater.

This continued for a while, with every class of weapons tried. Shotguns, assault rifles, sniper rifle, grenade launchers… But it was found that the larger the weapon, the less confident the Girls were. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were just too small to handle the larger weapons. The law enforcement world was simply not built with little children in mind, and Blackwater had rejected the idea of building customized guns for them. It was settled that MP5s would be handed out to them – less chance of collateral damage, and whatever extra firepower they needed could come from their fists and flying feet.

There was a recess after that, and the Girls settled down in the canteen for tea with sandwich and juice boxes from the vending machines.

Blossom had asked her Daddy to sit with her, aside from the rest. A pressing question had been on her mind since last night, keeping her company before, during and after her night's sleep.

"Dad, how do I become a good leader?" Blossom asked.

"Well, you don't give up for a start. Like Thomas Edison," the professor said.

"Who's Thomas Edison? Is he a friend of yours?"

"Not really. You see all these lights all around us? He invented the light bulb, and do you know how many times he failed to make it right?"

"I don't know, a couple of times?" Blossom guessed.

"Why, no one knows. A thousand times, or three thousand, even ten thousand times, give or take. And he didn't throw in the towel at all, even when he was laughed at," the professor explained. "But you'd also have to be smart, which I've no doubt you are."

Professor Utonium gave Blossom a squeeze and she giggled.

"But really, as a leader, you're responsible for everyone around you. What's most important is for you to take great care of them. That's how I did it. Be friendly with them, and you'll be loved and respected by all forever. That's how you can get anything done."

"I don't know if I can be like you," Blossom confessed, toying with her orange juice box.

"You don't have to be, Blossom. You just need to be yourself," the professor said. "They're supposed to fall in love with you, sugar plum, not me."

They spent some time in silence, just basking in each other's presence. It wouldn't be long before they would be separated again, and every time that happened, she would feel uncontrollable anxiety rising in her.

"What if they won't listen to me?" Blossom asked again, breaking the silence.

"You mean your sisters?"

"Yes. But just Buttercup, really," Blossom said.

"Then you'll have to be firm with her," the professor suggested.

"You mean being mean to her?"

"In a way. It's okay to be a little mean if it's for their own good," the professor said. "Like how I can be sometimes?"

"I don't think you've ever been mean to me…"

"Haha, that's because I never need to be, darling," the professor said as he caressed Blossom's lovely hair as they were looking at Buttercup, the professor nodding at the green-eyed girl. Buttercup smiled back at them, but there was no happiness behind her smile. She knew that they were talking about her, but it had made her anxious because she hadn't extended her hearing to them as she was busy with Mom.

"But with Buttercup, I had to be. For her own good, I had to control her sometimes… Because I love her. You- You understand me, right?" the professor said.

"I understand, Dad," Blossom said, still staring at Buttercup, but this time, with a dash of strength in her eyes. She understood more than her Daddy knew. It wasn't just at the bank that Buttercup's been acting out. Yesterday, Buttercup had tried to strangle her, and she'd been a really bad sister to Bubbles. It was time to put a stop to that.

City of Townsville. Downtown. Abandoned Mall.

15 DEC 1988 (Thursday). 1645.

"So, Blossom, here's the scenario: We've got ten rogue USDO SWAT operatives holed up in that mall. We know that they're hiding in a sports shop out in the middle of the second floor, right here." Selicia briefed the Girls. They were out in the middle of an empty parking lot. The Girls were standing around their Lamborghini speed transport, looking at a map that seemed too abstract and confusing to them. She had to redraw the map on a drawing block with a crayon to make it seem more palatable and understandable to them. "What do you do, Blossom?"

"Can we talk to them?" Blossom suggested. The Girls were dressed in their SWAT gear, and each of them were given an MP5, along with a variety of non-lethal grenades.

"Oh, come on! We've tried that before!" Buttercup whined unhelpfully. Blossom glared at her from the corners of her eye, a frown forming on her face, but she chose to ignore her.

"Hmm, let's leave negotiation out for now. Say they're completely evil and unwilling to talk. What do you do?"

"We run up to them and punch them all in the face!" Buttercup cut into the planning.

"Mom's talking to me, the leader, Buttercup!" Blossom scolded. Buttercup gave her the stink eye. "Running up to them wouldn't work, we tried that in the bank and it didn't work. They'll shoot us the moment they see us."

"Only because Bubbles was useless and you were a chicken," Buttercup added some more, and at this point, even Selicia thought that she was being a little excessive. Bubbles' gaze migrated to the floor, having been reminded by Buttercup of what had happened in the bank. Blossom glared at her. Her tomboy sister was doing exactly everything that she hated. She would have to sort her out later, as her Daddy said she should.

"Buttercup, we need to focus on the mission. And no punching this time, missy. Just guns for now," Selicia said.

"Yes, Mom," Buttercup agreed.

"Can we sneak up on them, like in hide-and-seek?" Blossom suggested. It felt like the only way. What were they going to do, fly through the ceiling?

"Ah!" Selicia exclaimed. They were going somewhere now. She had led Blossom to the stealth option and she had succeeded in following the breadcrumbs. "As a matter of fact, yes. There are some places here and here and here," Selicia pointed at certain parts of her crayon recreation of the map. "Where the rogues wouldn't be able to see you. You can even drop down from the third floor and go through the air vent gratings."

"What are air vent gratings?" Bubbles asked, speaking for the first time in a long time.

"They're like doors on the ceiling that you can open to get through. You three are small, so it shouldn't be a problem," Selicia answered.

"But wouldn't the third floor be too high up?" Bubbles asked.

"I've seen how high the three of you can jump, Bubbles, and if the three of you can land without hurting yourselves after touching the lab ceilings, then dropping from the third floor to the second shouldn't be a problem. Just make sure you land on your feet," Selicia explained. "There's the three of you and ten of them, Blossom. You'll have to plan this carefully, and try not to get shot too many times. We're grading you according to that, too. We even have a truck full of computers to do that." Selicia pointed to a truck marked with the USDO eagle and shield. The back doors were open, and men were sitting inside, watching monitors. The professor was inside as well - he wanted to see how well his Girls would do out there.

Blossom smiled. She had the perfect answer to this riddle.

City of Townsville. Downtown. Abandoned Mall. Mission Time - 0 mins

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup jogged up the mall, their submachineguns up. On the way there, Blossom magnified her vision to scout out the roof of the mall, and the windows overlooking the parking grounds, but there was no one. Seeing this, Blossom, leading the three, went around the back like speeding cars with the others following, quickly reaching an 'Employees Only' door, only to find it locked and chained up. But it wasn't as much of a hindrance as it would be to an average SWAT officer, who would have needed a bolt cutter to get through the door. Blossom simply clutched at the chain and gave it a yank, breaking it and unblocking the door.

Once inside, they travelled through the service corridor, before emerging out into the inside of the abandoned mall. The massive skylights and above weren't enough to illuminate most of the mall. There were plenty of places to skulk around in.

Choosing an escalator cloaked in darkness, the Girls ascended the steel steps, and on finding stacks of boxes in the middle of the open-aired second floor corridors overlooking the first floor, hid behind them. Blossom peeked over the boxes, and magnified her vision once more, stealing glances at the rogue USDO soldiers holed up in the sports store. They were there alright. Six of them were standing behind barricades, looking out the store front which lacked glass panes. They were equipped as SWAT operatives with kevlar vest and helmet, assault rifles, SMGs, shotguns. Blossom went back into hiding after sighting their targets.

"Buttercup, I need you sneak to the front and wait there for me," Blossom instructed her sisters. "Bubbles, you'll sneak around the back. I'll drop down from the third floor. Don't shoot until I say so over the radio. I'm going to-"

"Blossom-" Buttercup interrupted.

"What?" Blossom said, annoyed, knowing that nothing good could come next from Buttercup.

"Why do I have to be at the front? Why can't I drop down from the ceiling?" Buttercup complained - in her mind, Blossom was trying to show off once again, and make everyone believe that she had done all the work.

"Buttercup, you're the toughest of the three of us-" Blossom tried to reason with her, but she was quickly cut off by Buttercup. She hated it when she does that - it was incredibly rude, and she hated rudeness.

"I'm dropping down from the ceiling, Blossom. You can take the front," Buttercup rebelled. Blossom has had it. Seizing the ravenette by the vest, she slammed her against the boxes - Thankfully, they were filled with some stuff that were heavy or their cover would be blown.

"I'm the leader, Buttercup," Blossom snarled at her wayward sister, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You'll listen to me."

"What is with you, Blossom!" Buttercup exclaimed in surprise; she had never seen her red-haired sister like this before.

"Blossom… You're scaring me…" Bubbles blurted out from the corner. She was hugging her submachinegun as though it was Octi.

"You're going to the front, Buttercup, or you're not going anywhere," Blossom warned Buttercup.

"Fine! Fine! It's not like it's a big deal anyway!" Buttercup finally yielded, and Blossom let go of her.

"Good. If only you'd just listened," Blossom said before continuing as if nothing happened. "I'll sneak up the third floor. Bubbles, you'll sneak around the dark walkways to the back and Buttercup - behind the boxes and benches. Tell me when you're ready."

City of Townsville. Downtown. Abandoned Mall. Mission Time - 7 mins

"Very well done so far, Girls. You're fast. They won't be expecting you," Sergeant Selicia Goodwin said over the radio. Blossom hoisted herself up on the railing a third floor corridor, aiming at the roof of the sports store to drop down on. She let go when she was able to swallow her fear of heights.

"Blossom, it's Buttercup. I'm waiting," Buttercup reported over the radio. "I don't think they've seen me yet."

Blossom fell through the air, and as she did, she was looking down at the roof of the store, still fearful of heights. But then something different happened - it felt as if she was actually slowing down as she landed on threes in a crouching position. "Weird," she whispered to herself, wondering what had happened there. Nevertheless, she made her way to the grate. There, she could see two of the rogue USDO operatives playing a game of solitaire.

"Bubbles, are you there yet?" Blossom whispered into her radio after withdrawing from the grate.

"Almost…" Bubbles' high-pitched voice, eternally worried and afraid, no thanks to Buttercup and the robbers yesterday, rang out over the radio.

Buttercup, in the meantime, was waiting under a skylight. It was a cloudy day, so there wasn't much light to expose her. "Stupid Blossom and her 'leadership'," she muttered to herself as she waited. She took a peek over the box she was hiding behind, and saw Blossom waiting on the roof of the sports store. Bubbles was nowhere to be seen. "I'll show her leadership."

Buttercup, against orders, stalked closer to the store front, using the boxes scattered around.

"Bubbles, are you there yet?" Blossom asked over the radio.

"Almost," Bubbles replied.

That was when gunshots rang out.

'Buttercup!' Blossom thought. She looked over to where Buttercup was supposed to be at, only to find her missing. No, she had gone down-lane, even closer to the rogue USDOes in the sports stores. She was firing shots wildly at the storefront, laughing hysterically.

"Good job, Girls, one man down, nine more to go!" Selicia praised over the radio.

"Buttercup! You weren't supposed to come out yet!" Blossom yelled over the radio. Things weren't supposed to go this way. They were supposed to take all ten of the soldiers down at one go.

"Take cover! They're out there!" one of the soldiers in the sports store shouted.

"I see only one of them! They're flanking!" another soldier shouted. Gunshots soon ensued from inside the sports store as the USDO rogues returned fire against Buttercup.

"Fan out!" yet another soldier ordered.

"Oh no!" Blossom gasped as she hurried to the grates. Her well-laid plan was falling apart at the seams, and she wasn't sure if she could save it. Unclipping the flashbangs from her vest. She pulled the pins off all of them, pressed the levers and dropped them down.

"Grenades!" someone below shouted. "Take cover!"

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. The flashbangs were supposed to be surprises.

"Blossom, what's happening!" Bubbles babbled over the radio. "I'm not there yet, but they're shooting at me!"

"Take cover, Bubbles, and shoot back!" Blossom ordered as she dropped down into the sports shop, her submachinegun out. The men inside were supposed to be incapacitated, blinded by the flashbangs, but they weren't. Not most of them yet. A single USDO operative in black-gray SWAT gear was covering his eyes, hiding under a table that failed to protect him from the blinding light. Blossom tagged him with her gun first. The others in the sports store was ready for her, and they fired back.

"Blossom, honey, you're taking fire. I'm counting 15 bullets and rising." Selicia warned over the radio.

There were fewer of them than she had expected in the store. The others had long exited it. She could see the backs of three of them as she ran for cover. They were outside, hiding behind boxes, squaring off against Buttercup, who had just ran out of bullets and was reloading.

"Blossom, help me!" Bubbles said over the radio.

Blossom circles around a counter two soldiers were hiding behind. She'd done it with her super-speed such that they weren't able to track where she was. Knocking over display frames and a mannequin, she got around the men and fired her SMG, tagging them both. The soldiers fell to the ground, feigning death. More shots were fired in her general direction.

"Bubbles, you need to learn how to take cover or retreat. I'm counting 34 bullets on you and rising!" Selicia barked over the radio, impatient.

Outside, Buttercup has had enough of hiding. Jumping out of cover, she ran around the three men arrayed against her, taking imaginary bullets in the meantime, firing her SMG one-handed. One of them went down when his laser sensor blared out that he was dead. The others continued firing, scrambling to find new covers as Buttercup was flanking them.

"Buttercup, you're not playing by the rules!" Selicia said through the radio. "67 bullets on you and rising! Buttercup!" But Buttercup wasn't listening.

Back inside, Blossom was exchanging fire with two other 'rogue USDO soldiers'. After running out of ammunition, she ducked back into cover to reload. "Doing good, Blossom, 23 bullets on you and holding steady. Take them out carefully."

But the red-haired girl had a devious plan. Unpinning a final flashbang, she pushed its lever and threw it over the counter where the soldiers were hiding. After hearing them scramble out, she hopped over her counter, pushing herself over it with just a single hand, before unloading her MP5 at them. They were out for the count.

With that, she rushed at full speed out, getting behind the two soldiers firing on Bubbles. She was able to tag them without them even knowing what hit em, at least until they turned around and raised their hands. "You got us!" one of the soldiers said.

Meanwhile, Buttercup had only just shot down her second man, all the while running around in the open. She tackled the third man, who had just ran out of bullets on his assault rifle. "TAG!" she screamed when she did. The USDO SWAT officer was knocked yards away, and when he went down, he didn't get up again. Instead, he was clutching his ribs, writhing in pain.

"Y-you weren't supposed to do that you-!" the soldier howled. "Idiot! This is only a simulation, God damn!"

Buttercup stared down at the soldier triumphantly, caring little for the pain she had caused him. As far as she was concerned, she had won.

"Girls, we're done here. Come back out," Selicia said over the radio. Buttercup took off at full speed, smile on her face, leaving her sisters behind. She knew that Blossom would likely have something to say about this, and she wasn't going to hear it.

City of Townsville. Downtown. Abandoned Mall. Mission Time - 16 mins

When the Girls were all together again, Blossom was doing nothing but frowning at Buttercup, her arms crossed. Buttercup, on the other hand, wore a smug look on her face. Bubbles, in the meantime, was, again, hugging her simulation gun as if it was a bolster. Both Professor Utonium and Selicia were with them.

"Girls," the professor greeted as she was reading off a paper. "How well do you think you three did?"

"I think I was awesome!" Buttercup boasted.

"Not good…" Blossom and Bubbles said at the same time.

"Buttercup, you were hit 129 times. Blossom, you were hit 23 times. Bubbles… 64 times," Professor Utonium read off the paper. "That's quite a lot, Girls. But it's a job well done for you, Blossom, considering."

"Blossom, what happened to your plan? It was nothing like what you told me," Selicia said.

"Mom, Buttercup disobeyed orders! Again!" Blossom exclaimed angrily, throwing up her hands.

"She was planning to leave me out of everything!" Buttercup accused, pointing a finger at her alpha-sister as her eyes secretly pleaded with her Mommy to take her side.

"No I wasn't!" Blossom countered, facing Buttercup, looking like she was going to tackle her over the accusation.

"Yes you were!" Buttercup asserted, her voice grating, as she faced off with her sister.

"No!" Blossom returned.

"Yes!" Buttercup re-asserted. Fearing the worst, the professor took Blossom by an arm, and Selicia pulled Buttercup back.

"Girls, please! Calm down a little!" the professor reasoned with the both of them.

"She's the reason why we failed at the bank yesterday! Why should she continue to be the leader!?" Buttercup shouted.

"No, you're the reason why we failed in the bank yesterday! I could have talked the robbers into giving up if you didn't threaten them!" Blossom countered. They were able to get closer to each other, nearly pressing their faces together, despite their parents' intervention.

"Girls! It's useless to blame each other like this!" the professor screamed as he squeezed himself between his two adopted daughters.

It took half an hour for the Girls to calm down, and that was including the professor's mandatory corner time. When they were all brought back together again, back in the USDO HQ, Selicia read their individual grades.

"Buttercup, you scored an F," Selicia said. "You defied the rules of the game, you were shot too many times and you were reckless. I'm sorry, dear."

"Bubbles, you scored an F too," Selicia said. "You've contributed nothing for your sisters. You didn't kill a single enemy and had to be rescued."

"Blossom… You scored a D," Selicia said. "You were able to do everything you were trained for, and you were shot only 23 times. But your plan wasn't executed well, resulting in your sisters getting shot too many times."

"Buttercup, I saw what you were doing on the security cameras, and I heard you on the radio," the professor added. "I'm afraid I'd have to agree with Blossom - you didn't do as you were asked, and Blossom's plan failed because of it."

"But Dad, her plan wasn't even a good one!" Buttercup came up with another excuse.

"You don't know that, and now we'll never know because we weren't able to see it," the professor reasoned. "Blossom was made the leader, and you're her dear sister. You shouldn't make it so hard for her to lead, Buttercup. How would you feel if you were made the leader, and Blossom defies everything you say?"

Buttercup considered the professor's question, and she was afraid of the only answered she could give. "But I'm not the leader now, she is!"

"Answer me, Buttercup," the professor told the green-eyed girl gently.

"I... would be angry?" Buttercup finally replied.

"Exactly. Now think about what Blossom has been going through ever since you started going against her," the professor said.

"Yes, Daddy…" Buttercup said, but in truth, she hadn't thought much about it, even now. Despite the professor's best intentions, she hadn't seen it from Blossom nor his point of view, nor feel what they felt, not exactly.

She was simply, largely, incapable of it.

Chapter Text

USDO Combat Report 12141988-TV01

DOC: 15 DEC 1988

Updated: 18 DEC 1988

Created by: Security Captain Kate

Updated by: Chief of Security Blackwater

1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank

Introduction: The '1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank' is named for posterity in anticipation of the hope that Project Powerpuff will continue to serve the city of Townsville in fighting the extreme crime rates there. It is predicted that it will not be the last attempt on the Townsville Central Bank's reserves.

The 1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank was perpetrated by a large gang of robbers. Delayed by the ample security measures there, the Townsville Police Department was able to surround the building and trap the robbers in the very bank they were trying to rob.

Due to the potential for high casualties, Police Chief Commissioner Davis ordered that the subjects of Project Powerpuff be brought in to break the siege.

Date/Time: 14 DEC 1988. 2120 (est) - 2241 (est).

Location: City of Townsville. Townsville Business District. Townsville Central Bank.

|Belligerent Forces|

TOWNSVILLE LAW ENFORCEMENT

Commanders and Leaders

- Police Commissioner Davis (Townsville Police Department - Overall)

- Detective Mullens (Townsville Police Department - Investigation)

- Chief of Security Blackwater (United States Defence Organization)

- Leader of The Three, B-47 'Blossom' (The Three of Project Powerpuff)

Townsville Police Department

- 48 Police Officers (Bank Task Force)

- 20 SWAT Officers (Bank Task Force)

- 21 Police Cruisers (Bank Task Force)

- 4 SWAT Vans (Bank Task Force)

- 1 Police Helicopter (Bank Task Force)

- 121 Police Officers (Outer Parameter)

- 46 SWAT Officers (Outer Parameter)

- 65 Police Cruisers (Outer Parameter)

- 9 SWAT Vans (Outer Parameter)

[235 Combatants in total]

UNITED STATES DEFENCE ORGANIZATION

- 28 SWAT Operatives

- 2 Civilians

- 5 Humvees

[28 Combatants and 2 Civilians in total]

PROJECT POWERPUFF SUBJECTS AND SUPPORT PERSONNEL

- 10 Powerpuff Task Force Soldiers

- B-47 (Blossom)

- B-48 (Bubbles)

- B-49 (Buttercup)

- 1 Civilian

- 3 Lamborghini Speed Transports

[10 Combatants, 3 Organic Law Enforcement Weapon Platforms and 1 Civilian in total]

LOMBARDI MAFIA FAMILY

Commanders and Leaders

- Disgraced Capo Doug 'Scorpion' Benson

Lombardi Mafia Enforcers

- 12 Disgraced Lombardi Soldiers

- 8 Indentured Lombardi Associates

- 3 Getaway Vans

[20 Combatants in total]

| Casualties and Losses |

THE CITY OF TOWNSVILLE

- 5 Unarmed Civilians KIA, 29 injured, 6 severely injured

- 2 Private Security Officers KIA, 6 injured, 2 severely injured

[7 KIA, 35 injured, 8 severely injured]

TOWNSVILLE LAW ENFORCEMENT

Townsville Police Department

-1 Police Officers KIA, 3 injured

-3 SWAT Officers KIA, 2 injured, 2 severely injured

-4 Police Cruisers damaged

[4 KIA, 5 injured and 2 severely injured]

UNITED STATES DEFENCE ORGANIZATION

-1 SWAT Operative KIA, 1 injured

[1 KIA, 1 injured]

PROJECT POWERPUFF SUBJECTS AND SUPPORT PERSONNEL

-B-47 (Blossom) uninjured with equipment damage.

-B-48 (Bubbles) uninjured with equipment damage.

-B-49 (Buttercup) uninjured with equipment damage.

[3 equipment damage]

LOMBARDI MAFIA FAMILY

Lombardi Mafia Enforcers

-Leader killed

-10 Disgraced Lombardi Soldiers KIA, 2 injured and captured

-5 Indebted Lombardi Associates KIA, 3 captured with 2 injured.

-3 Getaway vans impounded.

[15 KIA, 4 injured and 5 captured]

Background – The Botched Heist

Townsville Central Bank was systematically taken over by the bank robbers, with all exits covered and blown up using plastic explosives if locked. Resistance from private security was nullified very quickly and with no casualties, which suggests that the building was scouted beforehand.

Initially, the bank robbers were able to secure hundreds of hostages, but when that number of hostages proved impossible to guard and violence broke out, resulting in dozens gunned down but few dead, the robbers opted to release most of their hostages, believing that they have more than enough time to leave with their stolen monies and goods.

However, complications arose when they tried to crack the bank vault, and they were delayed too long to make a clean getaway. Forensic evidence suggested that the drills they used had broke mid-operation and their remaining stock of plastic explosives were ineffective.

Townsville Central Bank was surrounded by the police before they could decide to retreat.

Composition of Lombardi Mafia Forces

The bank robbers were made up of disgraced members of the Lombardi Mafia Family, who were found to be involved with the more honest elements of the TPD. They were coerced either through threats to their loved ones or themselves, or through blackmail, to plan and carry out the heist. They were supplemented by associates of the Lombardi who had fallen out with the family, who had owed too many favors or had made too many mistakes.

They were lead by the veteran criminal Capo Doug Benson, nicknamed the Scorpion. His experience is considered to be one of the main reasons why the botched heist turned into a siege.

The Siege

Knowing that he is unable to get away, Capo Doug 'Scorpion' Benson posted his men at the lobby and back entrance after blocking the exits to the sides of the building by detonating explosives over the exits. He posted four men on the second floor for coverage over the main body of the police. However, they acted more in the capacity of a deterrent than snipers because they were out-ranged by SWAT snipers, and could not risk exposure for long.

Deploying Project Powerpuff

Despite outnumbering the bank robbers 4 to 1 with the aid of USDO federal forces, Police Commissioner Davis, who took personal charge of the operation, decided that storming the bank is too costly a move to risk due to how fortified the bank robbers were – Additional reinforcement brings the ratio of forces up to over 10:1, but it mattered little because of how the bank would funnel a police response into two general directions of assault.

Unwilling to lose more honest cops, who he thinks were a valuable resource hard to come by, and unwilling to risk public backlash from casualties, Police Commissioner Davis decided to call in The Three of Project Powerpuff.

While waiting for the USDO's Project Powerpuff to be deployed on site, Commissioner Davis ordered that police personnel on site form up into 2 groups, forming the Bank Task Force and the Outer Parameter, with the former focused on keeping the Lombardi robbers contained while the latter to keep ordinary citizens and the media out, which is necessary due to the classified nature of Project Powerpuff, which is not ready for an unveiling to the public.

Arrival of The Three of Project Powerpuff

B-47, B-48 and B-49 of the USDO's Project Powerpuff faced no obstacles from both the police and mafia while en route to Townsville Central Bank.

Chief of Security Blackwater was on site to brief them on the necessary details of their maiden mission. They were sent in without any USDO support backing them up and only minimal police support in the form of police snipers suppressing the robbers on the second floor. Police Commissioner Davis was able to arrange for a last minute ceasefire to allow The Three entrance into the bank by promising a meeting with a negotiator.

Order of Battle

- B-47 (Blossom) failed to negotiate for the robbers' unconditional surrender. Security footage reveals that it could be due to agitation from B-48 (Buttercup).

- The Lombardi Mafia Family forces opened fire first. B-49 (Bubbles) was knocked unconscious from a shotgun blast. B-47 (Blossom) responds by ordering a retreat and attempting evacuation of B-49 (Bubbles), all the while under heavy fire.

- B-48 (Buttercup) defies orders and attacks, but is only able to kill one combatant of the robbers before being forced to retreat due to concentrated fire from most of the robbers.

- The Three regroups behind cover in the middle of the bank service lobby.

- B-48 (Buttercup) provides cover fire while B-47 (Blossom) retreats with B-49 (Bubbles) in tow.

- B-48 retreats while taking fire and getting burned from a Molotov Cocktail.

- In the ensuing chaos, police snipers and observers reported the full retreat made by The Three to Police Commissioner Davis, who orders an assault on the bank to try to cover their retreat and take down the crime perpetrators at the same time. There was also a concern that the hostages might be executed or wounded by the robbers during this time.

- Police and USDO takes up position outside the bank, trading fire with the robbers, resulting in heavy casualties on both sides.

- Smoke grenades were launched into the bank, allowing all units involved to assault the lobby robbers. However, the perpetrators were still putting up a stiff resistance, forcing all law enforcement units to kill or wound on sight.

- The robbers situated around the back of the bank were taken down after being flanked from the back.

- The robbers on the second floor were pinned down by snipers, and were easily taken out when they we're flanked from the back.

- Surviving robbers were arrested, with A total headcount of 5, with 4 of them injured from the incident.

Result and Aftermath

Although law enforcement was victorious, the triumph came at a great cost. The TPD had lost officers, some of whom were considered irreplaceable assets. Many more were taken off the streets, even if temporarily, during a time when pressure cannot be let up on crime. Detective Mullen's investigation into the Lombardi Mafia Family was hindered by the death of the robbers' leader, who was wanted for questioning, among other things. Numerous civilians were killed or injured during the failed heist, and out of the remaining 8 civilians held hostage, only 4 survived with 1 dying of his wounds in hospital while another 3 were killed in the firefight.

The USDO, although shown to be capable of contributing greatly to major operations, was dealt a crippling blow because of the failure of Project Powerpuff to deliver, which resulted in a PR crisis with Townsville, its government and law enforcement agencies.

This is added to the fact that the criminals involved are considered expendable by the Lombardi Mafia Family, as they consisted of members who had fallen out of favor with the criminal regime, and the bank heist is considered to be a 'death march', a near-impossible feat to be accomplished for redemption in the criminal underground.

Analysis - Project Powerpuff Failure

Project Powerpuff had failed to achieve results, far below even the most pessimistic of expectations. Where Chief of Security Blackwater projected that at the very least, the subjects of the project will kill or incapacitate 25% of the perpetrators in the crime scene out of self-defence, casualty rate due to the deployment of Project Powerpuff stood only at 5%. Possible reasons for this failure has since been explored and found to be numerous.

- Poor grooming; Agent Utonium has subverted Project Powerpuff for his own gratuitous need for family and daughters and has failed to prepare B-47, B-48 and B-49 as Organic Law Enforcement Weapon Platforms. Instead, Agent Utonium has selfishly raised the subjects for normal civilian life (as kindergartners!). Sergeant Selicia Goodwin has been unable to make up for this, and might have even been 'converted' by either Agent Utonium or the subjects. Psionic influence has been ruled out, but it is possible that B-47, B-48 and B-49 might have some hidden ability that could cause a shift in the priority of their handlers. Until this is entirely ruled out, Agent Utonium and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin will not be replaced as a distruption to the subjects' 'lifestyle' for no gain is counter-productive.

- Poor training: B-47, B-48 and B-49 were poorly trained, having clocked in few hours of conditioning and unarmed combat training over the course of a few days. They were not given firearms training, modern warfare and law enforcement training. They received effectively no instruction in any body of knowledge necessary for law enforcement, with Miss Keane's contribution only just starting. As a result, combined with their 5-year-old bodies and mindset, their morale is poorer than even the most unfit of normal civilian volunteers, resulting in a quick rout and retreat despite their superior enhanced abilities.

- Prototypes: B-47, B-48 and B-49 are prototypes and couldn't be expected to live up to any expectations for field duty. This becomes obvious when it comes to their 5-year-old bodies and minds, when Project Powerpuff was intended to enhance fully-trained soldiers who would have been ready for law enforcement operations within days or even hours post-enhancement.

- No Support: B-47, B-48 and B-49 were given effectively no support when they were sent into Townsville Central Bank, with accordance with makeshift USDO doctrine in deploying Project Powerpuff. A combined arms approach would have certainly been beneficial to the success of Project Powerpuff.

- Mission Difficulty: The Three of Project Powerpuff were sent into a first mission that was simply too difficult for an inexperienced and untested force, with them being severely outnumbered. However, this is unlikely to be the cause of the failure of Project Powerpuff because of the subjects' complete bulletproof nature and superiority in every way. Security footage and reports from the subjects' handlers have shown them to be completely unharmed by bullets and fire. The only casualty caused by Project Powerpuff was shown to have died after sustaining a single flying kick to the chest.

Response

Blackwater has already ordered that B-47, B-48 and B-49 undergo training. Sergeant Selicia Goodwin projected that a dramatically shortened training period can be sufficient, as The Three of Project Powerpuff do not require physical conditioning, have photographic memory (with the possible exception of B-49 (Bubbles)) and are prodigious in intelligence (with the possible exception of B-49 (Bubbles)).

Meetings will be held in the USDO internally to determine the direction of Project Powerpuff and the severity of the ratings downgrade of B-47, B-48 and B-49. Meetings will also be held with Townsville officials externally, to discuss the developments of Project Powerpuff and how it could impact the USDO-Townsville partnership.

Chapter Text

Chapter 45: The Buttercup Way

Pokey Oaks County. Undisclosed Location. A Foundation Lab.

15 DEC 1988 (Thursday). 1739.

"Yes! Yeeessss! This is perfect! Flawless! Indisputably impeccable!" Mojo Jojo cried as he threw up his hands in admiration of the location Naga and her Foundation friends had brought him to. He was in a massive dome-like structure, surrounded by laboratory instrument, computers and machines, various prototypes that went nowhere, in the middle of construction. "This is where I can plot, plan, carefully construct my deceits, my feigns, my tricks, my master plan!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, Mojo," Naga said, before slyly asking innocently for the second time what his plan was: "What is your master plan, anyway?"

But this time around, Mojo Jojo was all too happy to share it, but before he could, he'd caught sight of a group of people, men and women alike, coming up to him, people dressed for various functions, be it combat, or scientific experimentation, or business and administration.

"Yes… What is your master plan? We would like to know," a prominent man in a business suit said. He had a high forehead and piercing gray eyes. Black hair.

"And who are you people?" Mojo Jojo asked gruffly, an attitude and habit he had retained from his days as prisoner, runaway and survivalist. Naga immediately leaned towards him, whispering.

"These are people you don't want to mess with, Mojo," Naga warned, all the while keeping her eyes on this group of apparently dangerous people. "But they can provide you with great rewards, should you prove useful to them."

The large Chimpanzee adjusted his new outfit, feeling a bit of an itch coming on underneath it. It was something he would have to get used to. After all, it was his first creation, a simple thing based off on the same technology as Naga's skin suit, something he tirelessly made while in a workshop on the way to what would become his lair. It was a white-blue-purple outfit, sleeveless and loose fitting, ideal for a hairy creature like him. "Why, it starts - begins, with you people of course, the originators of my plans!"

Mojo Jojo wasn't cowed by this group of so-called important people. He had already killed forty-three so-called important people, who deemed themselves superior to the general populace, if Professor Utonium's words were still words to go by and live by.

"If we were to work together, I want to know what YOUR master plan is! So as to integrate mine with yours, so that our master plan will become one, united, whole, stronger, unstoppable, inevitable!" Mojo Jojo ranted in his usual thesaurus way. Business Suit Man smiled, a gesture which Naga knew to be most rare and promising.

"You're bold, Mr. Mojo. As my four-armed friend right here says you are. I see that the Chemical W and X in you hasn't gone to waste." Business Suit Man praised, a hand in his pocket, himself unconcerned of his own safety in the presence of two chemically-enhanced individuals. "Very well. You shall attend and speak in our meeting, right here, right now."

Mojo Jojo was first given a tour of the dome-shaped lab he was brought to. There were multiple layers of it, and as its shape had hinted at, it was designed abstractly like a brain, with each level dedicated to a different function altogether, and it was all built on private property - the Foundation was very well connected. At the very top were the administrative centers, where the Foundation had their meetings.

It was here that the Chimpanzee newcomer listened and learned about its adoptive organization, and he had learned that the Foundation was indeed very well-connected. They had spread their tendrils all over Townsville, and it was just one of many theaters of engagement they were operating in. They had cells all over the country, and beyond. But they had an obsession over Townsville, for reasons even they were being very vague about.

The local crime families and gangs were working with the Foundation to varying degrees, and the leading family, the Lombardi, had numerous dealings with them. There were a few cults in the city that Mojo Jojo could not fathom nor want to for he had no interest in the mystical. Yet, the Foundation had dealings with them too - the Foundation apparently drew funds and materials from these cults, in return for… some reason that wasn't revealed. The simian could only imagine that it was merely a convenient alliance. They had spies everywhere, including the police, and yes, inside the USDO, even before it became a public agency.

The Foundation's plans were simple on the surface - finance and support local crime organizations to weaken the local government and the USDO, and when they were weak enough, take over with a figurehead mayor on election day and establish a Foundation capital to operate from and take over other large population centers. But there was more that wasn't revealed. The mystery of it all was beginning to anger Mojo Jojo, even if it was to be expected - he hadn't even done anything for the Foundation at all. Yet, it was a chicken and the egg problem to him - how could he do anything, if not everything was revealed to him?

"So, what is your grand plan, monkey?" Business Suit Man, who Naga had since revealed to be simply known as Mr. White, said derisively, but no one laughed.

"Chimpanzee. Pan Troglodyte," Mojo JoJo corrected the Foundation boss nonchalantly. "Your plan, your scheme, has neglected a most serious, critical and severe development. Those three accursed girls Professor Utonium has made, created, manufactured!"

"Those Three? Of Project Powerpuff?" Mr. White remarked casually, unperturbed, as he rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped as if in prayer. "Yes, we've heard of them. They're just three more failures of the USDO. Just like you and Naga, and worse. They're failures we can't turn to our advantage."

"I wouldn't be so sure about it, Mr. White. I have seen their files, documentations and manifests-" Mojo JoJo argued.

"We will hear about it if they ever become a threat, which I doubt they ever will," Mr. White said dismissively, his every word deliberate. "Go on. Tell us your… Master plan."

"It will involve the Foundation and all its links, assets, associations, and it will no doubt involve those 'Three'," Mojo JoJo began, a maniacal smile on his face. Soon, the world will be rid of the USDO, and anyone like them. Soon, the Utonium will lose his ill-begotten daughters and then, perhaps, just perhaps, he will be reunited with an Utonium who knows better.

The world would soon become a better place.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House

15 DEC 1988 (Thursday). 2017.

Professor Utonium was sitting behind his desk, looking down at the CT scan printout of Buttercup's brain he was holding up. If nothing else, the activity in the affected areas of her brain was more reduced than before. Yet, his arranged conversation with her, and his conversations with her since had revealed more mysteries than he had solved. However, he wouldn't have to wonder for long.

A brown envelope sat beside his own CT scans. It was sent directly from the old USDO HQ. The medical wing there had done their job. Tearing the envelope open, he pulled the CT scans out – those were the first scans he'd taken of Buttercup's brain – and noticed immediately words scribbled everywhere on the printout, as well as several pages of notes.

"Dad…" Buttercup's voice made him jump. It'd come from behind him. Although he knew that what he had in his hands might as well be magic runes to the little girl, he couldn't help but to be secretive about it. His relationship with his Girls was just too precious to him. She sounded distraught. He quickly repacked the CT scans and notes inside the brown envelope and dumped everything into the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet, which was fast becoming the 'Buttercup Drawer', considering that it held documentation for her DNA source's medical data, too. "Daddy…"

Professor Utonium turned around. Buttercup was in tears. "What is it, honey?"

"Blossom's been mean to me," Buttercup cried as she wiped tears away from her cheeks.

"Okay… What did she do?" the professor asked, not believing his ears. Blossom had been nothing but nice to everyone.

"Can I sit on your lap?" Buttercup asked first.

"Sure thing, Buttercup," the professor obliged, picking her up from under the arms and depositing her on his legs. "Now, what could Blossom possibly have done to upset my toughie toffee?"

"Dad, I'm sorry I've been disobeying Blossom, but… I- I-" Buttercup struggled as she choked on her own words. The professor grew worried at how upset she was. Something was wrong. Perhaps a new dimension to the relationship between Blossom and Buttercup he had failed to notice?

"Buttercup, you can tell me. What happened?" the professor asked, the worry marks on his forehead creased as he sensed something very wrong. He held Buttercup's hand, concerned.

"Blossom's been hurting me. It's why I stopped listening to her," Buttercup lied, and she had been practising in the mirror, too. "She slammed me against some boxes while we were training today, and…" Buttercup continued shedding crocodile tears, those tears that proved to be so powerful. The professor absolutely could not believe what he had just heard. His Blossom, a bully? It would explain why the Girls took so long to execute their plans, and it certainly explained what was going on in front of the security camera in the mall. Blocked by the boxes they were hiding behind, he couldn't see what they were doing.

"And she- she kicked me yesterday night…" Buttercup stuttered, gesturing with her eyes where Blossom had kicked her. The professor didn't understand at first.

"Kicked you? Where?" he asked.

"D-down there…" Buttercup said. The professor nodded. Blossom had gone too far. Sure, she had been appointed the leader of the trio by the USDO, and that meant getting her sisters to listen to her, but this was just too much. In fact, as the professor's mind began turning, he even theorized that Buttercup's defiance might have been made worse by Blossom's abuse.

"It hurt so much. I had trouble sleeping last night because of it," Buttercup fed the professor more lies. "It was horrible!"

"Let's go, Buttercup. We're going to have a talk with Blossom," the professor said sternly, his face hardened that it could join the forefathers on Mt. Rushmore.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House

15 DEC 1988 (Thursday). 2025.

"But Dad! She's lying!" Blossom exclaimed, and in her confusion, could not explain so well what she meant.

"So did you slam her against the boxes at training, or not?" the professor asked sternly, his hands on his hip, his words severe. Blossom had never seen and heard him speak to her like this before.

"I did, but I was just-" Blossom wanted to explain things, but neither the professor nor her largely untapped wit would allow her to do it sufficiently.

"So you did slam her against the boxes, am I right, Blossom Utonium?" the professor said rhetorically. "And I take it that it's true that you shoved her yesterday night? And kicked her in the…" Professor Utonium struggled to find the proper substitute for the word. He cleared his throat. "Down below?" Blossom understood immediately. It was the worse time to learn a new phrase, but she'd understood it based only on inference.

"But that wasn't the whole thing, Dad!" Blossom tried to explain, feeling that her eyes were prickly at the same time. She had never felt so misunderstood in her entire life, even if it wasn't even longer than a month.

"Then what is the whole thing, young lady?" the professor asked. Blossom could feel it - the anger boiling underneath her Daddy. But she could make it right, she just knew it. It was all a misunderstanding. However, looking at Buttercup standing beside the professor, she knew that there was a bigger picture to it. Buttercup had told on her, but it was more than that.

"She was mean to Bubbles! She- she shouted at her and- and wanted to hit her!" Blossom said.

"She's lying, Dad. I didn't touch Bubbles at all, and I never wanted to! Blossom tried to force me to sleep on the floor because she's the leader! I got upset and…" Buttercup twisted the story, and had, once again, forced tears to well up in her eyes. Blossom had never felt more wronged and angry in her entire life. She could feel her face heating up. The professor could see hatred and fury in her eyes as she gritted her teeth and glared at Buttercup. "I'm sorry I shouted at you, Bubbles."

Bubbles, who had been in bed all the while, turned lethargically in bed to them and nodded to acknowledge Buttercup. "It's okay, Buttercup. I'm sure you had your reasons."

"So you pushed Buttercup over what you imagined will happen, and you started the whole thing because you wanted to make her sleep on the floor?" the professor accused.

Overwhelmed by her beloved Daddy's questions, Blossom simply bowed her head, her eyes closed as she fought back tears, even when she was wrongly portrayed as an abusive sister. "I just- I need Buttercup to go along with my plans, that's all Dad." She sniffled as her tears fought through her eyelids, she rubbed a fist across her face. For the first time, she hid her tears, preferring to show something resembling strength and dignity in the light of the topic.

"Blossom… Blossom…" the professor cooed unexpectedly. "This is not what I meant, Blossom, when I said that you have to be firm with your sister." Buttercup's eyes flitted from Blossom to the professor then back again. They'd been talking about her, there was no doubt about that anymore.

"Why must it be so difficult?" Blossom wondered through gritted teeth as she held back the torrent of tears threatening to break through. It was already leaking through her eyelids.

"Buttercup, could you leave us alone for a minute? Go watch some T.V, run to it at full speed. I want to hear it from here," the professor told Buttercup.

"Can't I stay, Daddy?" Buttercup replied. "You said that I have to face my problems or I'll never learn to cope with them."

"You've done it, Butterbear. I need to speak to Blossom alone," Professor Utonium said patiently.

"Okay…" Buttercup relented before zooming down to the living room and switching the television on as she was asked.

"Use your words, not your fists," the professor advised the girl after putting himself at the doorway between the corridor outside and the Girls' room to watch for Buttercup, wagging a finger at her. "I would have thought that you, of all people, know this better than anyone else."

"But she never listened, she never did, Daddy, honest!" Blossom tried to get her point across as she looked up at the professor, but she was already half defeated.

"You might have been too rough with her at first," the professor said. Content that Buttercup wasn't eavesdropping on the both of them, he sat down on the Girls' bed and gestured for Blossom to hop on. Blossom gingerly shuffled towards him and climbed onto his lap. "Besides, I know how Buttercup can be like, I should. Talk to her, Blossom, and give her time. It's only been two days since you started out."

"But what if she doesn't listen?" Blossom asked again.

"I know its difficult, honey. Not everyone's as reasonable - it's something we all have to live with and… try to work with," the professor said. Blossom was in his arms, nestling between his chest and arm. The professor rocked her like a baby, trying to get her to calm down. "I know how Buttercup is like, but she's your sister. I'm sure she'll come around for you eventually - but you have to treat her right, too. She's as rough as she's tough, but she has feelings too."

"She gets angry all the time," Blossom commented.

"I'm sure she has other feelings too. She's just keeping them inside most of the time," the professor added. "I know for a fact that she's capable of feeling happy and sad."

All the while, Buttercup had been listening closely and intently. Even though she was in the living room with the television on, she could hear them well enough to make out every word they were saying. And she was fuming mad. She had expected much more than this. She had wanted more than a heart-to-heart talk between her Daddy and Blossom. She had wanted them to fight, and drift apart, so that Daddy and even the leadership of the trio would be hers. But no, nothing ever went her way. Frustrated, Buttercup went out the front door, to unearth her new friend, the dead cat.

Outside, she knelt down beside the shallow, snowy grave of the dead cat beneath the bushes of her home. She dug it up, first unearthing its head, before the rest of its body.

It didn't react immediately, and Buttercup didn't expect it to. Staying frozen for days on end should slow one down at least a little.

Eventually, it lifted its head slowly, its eyes rotating sluggishly to meet Buttercup's. "Good… morning… Buttercup. Or should I say, evening? Time is so different like this."

"Evening, dead kitty cat," Buttercup greeted.

"In trouble again, are you?" the dead cat purred.

"Not really, kitty," Buttercup said, as her eyes dug around the snow for what to say. "It's just stupid Blossom and her leadership. Why do I have to listen to her anyway? Because some big, fat gorilla said so?"

"My, my! How… awful… I, for one, hate being bossed around by others. I love deciding things myself, and if cats can be lone wolves, why not the tough and powerful Buttercup?" the dead cat said, its voice alternating from a whisper to a calm, kindly voice.

"It's just that- No matter how hard I try to be myself, Blossom had to go and ruin it!" Buttercup reflected resentfully. "And Daddy's really good to her no matter what I said. He loves her more than me."

"That is a fact, my dear… Buttercup," the cat said, making no attempts to hide what it considered fact. It twisted its neck to look up at the window leading into the living room. "Which is why you need to try harder, little girl. After all… love is the greatest reward anyone can ever have. TRY HARDER! You need to overcome Blossom."

"But what if I play along and follow Blossom around? Maybe Daddy would like me better… Yesterday was bad when he saw me on the camera," Buttercup wondered.

"You're going to roll over and die? Like me? End up in the snow with no one to love, alone? THAT'S PATHETIC!" the dead cat chided, its voice constantly shifting, then, without building, became a shout that Buttercup was both shaken by it and afraid that her new friend would be discovered. "Haven't you learned your lesson yet? That playing by the rules, that letting your sisters have their way, WILL PUT YOU AT THE BOTTOM!? That's Blossom and Bubbles' territory, Buttercup. You need to push harder, the Buttercup way…"

Buttercup thought about it for a moment. Before, she was always last when it came to her father's affections. At least, that was how she saw it. Now, after twisting the facts with Daddy, even after disobeying Blossom's orders on the field, she was better off - she had more time with her father, and he'd actually listened to her. In fact, whenever she did things her way, she would tend to win out.

"You're right, kitty cat," Buttercup said. "Blossom's going down, and I'm going up. I just need the right moment."

Chapter Text

Post-Deployment Meeting 12151988A Transcript

DOC: 15 DEC 1988

The following has been reconstructed from video and audio recordings.

START TRANSCRIPT

(The Location: Meeting Room, Townsville USDO HQ.)

(Attending: All departmental heads and any relevant personnel.)

(Time: 1335.)

USDO DIrector Cliff: Are we all here? Good. First on the agenda (aggressively), Project Powerpuff. Chief of Security Blackwater, give us an abridged version of your report.

Chief of Security Blackwater: The Three were deployed with no support up against 20 bank robbers. They killed one, and retreated when B-49, the most useless of the lot, was knocked unconscious by a shotgun blast. The police and our men had to step up. 4 hostages survived. 3 were killed in the resulting firefight and 1 died of his wounds because he couldn't be evacuated in time. The TPD lost 4 officers, with 7 injured. We lost a man, and one is injured.

Medical Director Simmons: What about the Girls? Are they hurt?

Chief of Security Blackwater: They were able to walk out of there, I saw no blood or injuries, and their handlers did not report anything. And those bitches certainly had the cheeks to cry about the robbers being mean.

Medical Director Simmons: No one checked them for injuries?

Chief of Security Blackwater: I left it up to Professor Utonium. He's the dog handler.

USDO Director Cliff: Are B-47, B-48 and B-49 bulletproof?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Completely. I've checked the security footage from inside the bank. The robbers were firing rounds as large as 7.56mms, and they hadn't even made a dent in the three subjects.

USDO Director Cliff: So why the hell did they retreat?

Chief of Security Blackwater: According to their handlers, Professor Utonium and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin, they are still capable of feeling pain. The shotgun blast directed at B-49 was enough to knock her out. Professor Utonium added in his report on the 'Girls' combat effectiveness that they are (looks at a piece of printed paper) 'just as sensitive as any other children' and that 'they feel fear and panic and anxiety as any children would, enhanced abilities notwithstanding'. I guess that translates to a huge morale problem on our hands.

USDO Director Cliff: Lab-grown pussies, in every sense of the word. Solutions?

Chief of Security Blackwater: Several. I've already put one into motion. They should be getting ready for training even as we speak. I've ordered that they be put into a crash course in counter-terrorism. Guns, tactics, confidence training. The whole package.

USDO Director Cliff: You have several solutions. Tell me.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Combat drugs. We pump them high, so they feel less fear and more excitement and become more susceptible to suggestion. It's not cutting edge science either. It's been done since World War II. I've used some before. We just have to increase the dosage to account for the Girls' resistance to drugs.

USDO Director Cliff: What are your thoughts, doctor? (Turns to Medical Director Simmons)

Medical Director Simmons: I wouldn't recommend it unless it's a desperate move. We're only one operation in, and it's not like we're losing a world war. The long term effects will not be worth the short term gain. Subjects B-47, B-48 and B-49 are physically children, and it might affect their growth and development. They could become addicted, and you don't want three addicts with superpowers tearing up the town for their next dosage, do you? Then there's the question of ethics-

USDO Director Cliff: Alright, I get the picture. Any other solutions?

Chief of Security Blackwater: There's one little science experiment I heard about. We install computer chips in those brats, overriding their individual emotions and thoughts. We turn them into drones. The computers can be packed in a Duranium backpack for protection.

USDO Director Cliff: Science division, what's your opinion on this?

Acting Head of Research Vanum : Yes, Project Slipstream from California. It's still in its early stages. It's not viable, unless you want the Girls to turn into million-dollar vegetables.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Or we retire those 5-year-olds and start over.

USDO Director Cliff: Out of the question. We've promised Townsville those kids as secret weapons, and it is a promise we have to keep. It's either we succeed in Townsville with them, or we fail.

Acting Head of Research Vanum: To add, we have no other viable products available to replace them. Professor Utonium has continued experimenting with Chemical X, but it is still in the early stages. It took us two decades to get this far, and I don't know how many years it will be before we can produce a more ideal version of Chemical X. Or Chemical Z, or anything further.

Chief of Security Blackwater: B-47, B-48 and B-49 are here to stay, then.

USDO Director Cliff: Just get them prepared for their next deployment. (Turns to the table) CFO Silverslick?

CFO Silverslick: As before, we will vote on reducing or increasing the performance rating of B-47, B-48 and B-49. As it stands, their ratings are:

B-47, or who they call Blossom, is at Triple A (AAA). She remains at the top of the list, which therefore means that she is our most promising product.

B-48, or who they call Buttercup, stands at Double A (AA). As all of you may recall, we have electronically voted on downgrading her rating twice because of Agent Utonium's report of a possible neurological abnormality, whatever that means, and possible hearing problems. However, we voted to raise her rating because of Sergeant Selicia Goodwin's report on her training.

B-49, or Bubbles, has a single C because we recently voted to drop her rating due to her continued under-performance under laboratory settings compared to her sister products.

We will now vote to change their performance rating, starting with B-47, or Blossom. As her rating is already at Triple A, there will only be two choices - no change or downgrade. Those in favour of no drop, raise your hand.

(Few hands were raised, forming a minority. Medical Director Simmons, Psychiatrist Alice, Chief of Logistics Wiggums were among them.)

Reasons?

Medical Director Simmons: Ethical and logical. What we're doing is wrong enough, never mind the fact that we're thrusting young lives into a world of blood and pain and expecting them to come out on top, enhanced or not. Patience should be given where it is due, and here, it certainly is due.

CFO Silverslick: Noted.

Psychiatrist Alice: From my observations, the Girls did not underperform in their duty. They were merely reacting to stimuli that cannot be ignored, the way that young children would normally react. They shouldn't be penalized for what they cannot control.

CFO Silverslick: Okay, noted.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: What they said.

CFO Silverslick: You'll need proper justification for your vote or it will be a null.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Alright, alright. I just think that the Girls were screwing up because it's their first day, y'know. Gotta cut them some slack so they'd have time to learn the ropes.

Acting Head of Research Vanum: That's true, and I agree. We should give Blossom the benefit of the doubt, considering that she's shouldering a heavy burden at such an early age.

CFO Silverslick: Fine, accepted. Anyone else? (He scans the room, seeing no other hands raised) Very well, those in favour of lowering B-47's rating, I'll need justifications for the record. Mr. Director?

USDO Director Cliff: I've seen B-47's data, and it doesn't match her performance on the field. She must have failed the mission because of negligence.

CFO Silverslick: Well said, sir. Blackwater?

Chief of Security Blackwater: She couldn't keep her team together and she didn't know what to do with them – and this is all despite the fact that they're sisters! They've been together since the beginning, 24/7. I'd say that's an equivalent of basic training when recruits would be put together into their squads.

On the field, she was ignorant of almost everything required of her, she was always hesitant to do what is necessary. She was a massive disappointment. I would have pinned all the blame on her back with a knife if it weren't for B-49.

CFO Silverslick: Good one, sir. Who wants to go next?

Chief Armory Officer: In my opinion, those kids had everything handed to them. Their crazy voodoo stuff aside, they had kevlar thicker and wider than what our soldiers carry, and they had pistols. That Blossom ordered a retreat without even trying to tackle the robber problem is a huge red flag. We'd have to replace the equipment destroyed during the operation, too, and for no results.

CFO Silverslick: That's in the book. Next?

Central Motorpool Manager: I don't have any Shakespeare reasons for this, but, we practically gave Blossom everything she could possibly need to make the right decisions without worrying about anything except to punch out the baddies. She couldn't even do that? I mean, back when I was just a lieutenant, I had to worry about everything – schedules, timing, the number of men under me, their competency, whether they would be given everything they need and put in places they're needed. Blossom, from what I heard, was treated like a princess, and she failed like one too. That's just an insult considering everything we've done. I gave her three Lamborghinis for Christ's sake-

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: Add to that the effect this defeat will have on morale and confidence. Only a bad leader would retreat so lightly without considering the repercussions it has on everyone else. I think B-47, aka Blossom, knows enough that her actions should have consequences. Right now, my agents within Townsville are reporting complaints made against Project Powerpuff and the USDO, and it's not just the ignorant rank-and-file police officers reporting what they thought to be child labor and abuse.

CFO Silverslick: I think we get the picture. Ms. Bellum?

Townsville Liaison Bellum: On second thought, I would like my vote to be voided.

CFO Silverslick: Are you sure?

Townsville Liaison Bellum: Yes. I'm conflicted and any vote I cast would be dishonest.

CFO Silverslick: I understand. It's my turn. I've decided to downgrade B-47's credit because… At the end of the day, when you're asked to turn a million in profit, you've got to turn a million in profit. Nothing less, something hopefully more. She was the most critical component of our product, and she failed. Based on the number of votes, B-47's credit rating is now Double A (AA).

Let's move on to B-48. Buttercup. Because of her current credit rating, our votes will be split three ways, between raising, maintaining or lowering it. Those in favor of raising B-48's rating, please raise your hand. (a few hands shot up, and they all belong to the department heads of the security branch) State your reasons for the vote.

Chief of Security Blackwater: Although she'd killed the wrong bottom-feeder, she has potential. I've seen some footage of her in action. She has proven that she was willing to do whatever it takes to fight crime. She was the only one of the three to engage the enemy, and kill something. From what I heard from the brats, Buttercup actually defied the assigned leader's orders to retreat, something I would have done in her shoes considering the ineptitude of B-47.

Chief Armory Officer: And she was the only one of The Three to actually use the equipment I provided. She's demonstrated the ability to recognize and use weapons, and to use it against the enemy. The others might have realized the same thing, but B-48 is the only one to show evidence of this.

Central Motorpool Manager: I agree with this. I'm afraid I have nothing special to offer. I just think that it's a watershed moment for B-48. Having killed an enemy, she's officially more experienced than even some of our raw recruits.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: Yes, and she was ruthless at that, wading against overwhelming odds to despatch the bank robbers' Capo. Had her 'sister products', as you would call it, Silverslick, backed her up, I believe she could have done more.

Townsville Liaison Bellum: She did her job. It was brutal, but in a brutal city like this, it had to be done. I've been getting to know the mayor, and his stance is one that's tough on crime. If it had to be done, Mayor Wilford will support it.

CFO Silverslick: Very well. All those in favor of maintaining B-48's credit rating, do explain now.

Acting Head of Research Vanum: There's just not enough data to prove even the most rudimentary of hypothesis - such as Buttercup's willingness to kill, much less her reasons for doing so. Until we have a large enough data set, we should not be jumping to conclusions.

Medical Director Simmons: I agree. It's premature right now to derive anything meaningful from what we have. The right thing to do is to observe Buttercup's performance in her subsequent forays.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Let's just wait and see - because for now, I'm seeing both sides of the same coin, man, and it's tough for me to make a good decision from that.

CFO Silverslick: Alice? What about you?

Psychiatrist Alice: I've reviewed footage of Buttercup myself. There are many ways to interpret her action, and her suggested willingness to kill. From where I stand, it might not be a good thing at all. It's almost as if she enjoyed it - I've seen her face as she delivered a kick to the bank robber. But I'll need more hard evidence to support my claim. The action to take lives shouldn't be taken lightly. I've worked with Professor Utonium before, and he wouldn't have taught a child to love the kill, and certainly not when it involves human lives. B-48's rating should be maintained until this is ascertained.

CFO Silverslick: (scribbling on his document hastily) Here… And… Here. Alright- My turn. I'm raising B-48's rating. From what I've seen, she's demonstrating everything I want in a law enforcement product, especially in a hellhole like Townsville. I think our security staff had explained things best. B-48, or Buttercup's rating, is now Triple A (AAA) then, overtaking B-47 as our best product.

It's B-49, or Bubbles', turn now. All in favor of raising it, raise your hands. (Chief of Logistics Wiggums is about to put up his hand when he retracted it. CFO Silverslick notices it with a raised eyebrow before his eyes flit back to his file. He writes something on it)

All in favor of maintaining it, raise your hand. (About three hands shot up)

Doctor?

Medical Director Simmons: From what I understand, she was just an unlucky victim of a biological inevitability – she had simply received a serious enough of a blow to the head during the worse of circumstances to induce unconsciousness. We don't know how well she would have done in the operation. For all we know, she could have been the star of the show had it not been for that one shotgun shell.

CFO Silverslick: Very well. Alice?

Psychiatrist Alice: There is nothing that would have indicated that she would have under-performed in combat, neither do we have a large data set. This could be a fluke.

CFO Silverslick: Naturally. Wiggums?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: If my movers were stuck in traffic on a pre-assigned route, I won't blame them for the thousands of cars blocking their way.

CFO Silverslick: Of course. Reasons for downgrading B-49's credit rating?

USDO Director Cliff: If B-47 is bad, then B-49 is even worse. Nothing was expected of her except for her individual actions to fight crime and she was down in a single shot – even when she's impervious to bullets.

Chief of Security Blackwater: I can add to that with details from the battlefield. I've seen some security footage of the 'battle'. This 'Bubbles' went down in a single shot when the others had taken dozens, even over a hundred shots to their body. The gap in performance based on those numbers is extreme at the least, and if her test results aren't enough, this one incident proves that B-49 is less viable a platform as the other two.

Chief Armory Officer: We've talked about B-49's reception to training. She's unwilling and untalented. I don't see any meaningful chance for an improvement in B-49's performance.

Central Motorpool Manager: From my understanding of the battle report, that's only the start, isn't it? She's a deadweight. And what do we do with deadweight on a vehicle? We cut them loose. Take a train for instance - if a carriage is grinding the rails, we either unbolt it or lose the whole thing.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard: Par for the course. If one of my own has been leaking information because of gross negligence, there would have been severe consequences. It's no different in this case.

USDO Director Cliff: Some of you may not know this, but millions in funding are behind each of the subjects. Agent Utonium had ordered Duranium surgical sets and even Duranium scissors for their hair. That alone costed hundreds of thousands. The Chemical X behind them and experiments associated with them were in the millions. That's not to mention the costs of maintaining the staff, facilities and materials supporting those kids - that's hundreds of people at the very least. I can't spend millions of dollars and get nothing.

CFO Silverslick: And I'm in agreement, sir. That's bad investment right there. Due to a majority vote in lowering B-49's rating, her new rating is now Triple D (DDD), and because of that, we'll have to come to a decision as to what to do with B-49. By any measure of success - or failure - B-49 is terrible investment. In a business setting, funding would have been withdrawn immediately, but since this is the USDO and we're dealing with a super-powered infant, it's not so simple. Director?

USDO Director Cliff: Our choice is simple. It's either she gets scrapped or we wait. Make your choice, people.

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: Can't she be retired or something, boss?

USDO Director Cliff: No. She'll still be our responsibility and we'll still have to maintain her. It'll run up the costs.

Chief of Security Blackwater: What about re-purposing her for other uses?

Chief of Logistics Wiggums: We could use her strength for lifting cargo here in HQ.

USDO Director Cliff: Same issues as before. It'll be the world's most expensive forklift in the world. I don't need Professor Utonium to double between HQ and The House nursing his babies. I need him working on Chemical X, and the more promising subjects, as incompetent as he is with our organic platforms. No more discussions. Who's in favor of scrapping B-49?

(Silence for a moment. One or two hands are raised slowly. The Chief Armory Officer and Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard. No one else moved a muscle.)

Blackwater?

Chief of Security Blackwater: No, not yet, sir. If she's one of my own, I'd give her a chance at redeeming herself. She'd get punishments and training but not death.

USDO Director Cliff: Fine. We're not scrapping B-49 then. But she'd better make up for the hole she's burning in the organization's wallet.

TRANSCRIPT END

Chapter Text

A/N: Hi guys, first of all thanks for reading. This chapter came out slower because I got sick and exhausted for a day and couldn't write as much. Anyway, do review and let me know what I've done right and what needs improvement. Suggestions are welcome :). I would also love to hear your thoughts on the story. Cheers!

Chapter 46: Police Brutality

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

16 DEC 1988 (Friday). 1018.

The Girls had been busy drawing, even Buttercup. Seated together, school had provided a welcome distraction from the strife of the past two days, and as children were prone to do, the Girls had largely left the enmity between them behind while they were having fun.

Blossom was drawing with both her hands, using her ambidextrous nature to mirror the circular pattern she'd been creating. The picture was flawless. And abstract. Based on something she remembered in her dreams.

Meanwhile, Bubbles was working on a picture of the three of them. Blossom in the middle, as usual, standing in between herself and Buttercup as their leader. Bubbles and Buttercup in the drawing were each holding one of Blossom's hands, standing on one foot and swinging the other. She had neglected to draw the fingers, ears and nose, but she thought the illustration looked better without them. It was crude but a step up from the stickmen she used to draw; it wasn't her first attempt at this drawing, and she had been getting better at it since.

Buttercup, on the other hand, was recreating the moment she made her first kill. She could still smell the gunpowder in the air, the blood from her prey as it exited from his nose and mouth. The moment she was flying in mid-air, connecting a kick with the bank robber leader, came to mind. But all she could manage were stickmen: the shorter one representing her, and the longer one representing the gangster. There were others all around her, firing L-shaped things that were supposed to be guns, fire at the tip of those loud things. Buttercup gave a sigh. She longed to be out there again, to fight crime so that she could kill more bad guys. Yesterday's training didn't feel real enough. Sure, she'd broken a USDO SWAT officer's rib, but it was far from caving some bank robber's chest in.

Miss Keane happened to be walking past their table, and she looked at Blossom's drawing. "Oh, that's very nice, Blossom. It'll look good on a dress."

"Thanks, Miss Keane," Bossom said gracefully as she continued mirroring her work using both her hands to draw.

"And… Oh my, those are some very good-looking cartoon characters," Miss Keane commented when she saw Bubbles' drawing of herself and her sisters. "I see that they're based on the three of you!"

"Actually, they are us, Miss Keane," Bubbles corrected as she continued refining her illustration. She pointed at the 'cartoon characters', naming each of them as either herself or Blossom or Buttercup. "See?"

"Yes, Bubbles, I see. Where are the fingers and facial features? Like the noses and ears?" Miss Keane asked.

"I was having trouble drawing them, so I didn't add them in this time," Bubbles explained.

"Well, they look nice like that. Good work, Bubbles," Miss Keane then shifted her gaze at Buttercup's drawing. Buttercup was just done adding spurts of blood and flying bullets all over the place.

"Buttercup!" Miss Keane uttered, alarmed at the graphic nature of her doodling. "What are you drawing?"

"Good memories, Miss Keane," Buttercup said to her teacher, smiling. She lifted the drawing block and pointed what she drew. "This is me, and this is a robber. That's my foot and it went into the robber. It's funny how squishy he is!" Buttercup actually laughed at the thought of it. The way the robber felt when his chest was crushed reminded her of the cat she killed, or the golden retriever, which was her second victim. The black robber was her third. They all reminded her of the pinata she saw on television, and they were all interesting things that she could dig into - she found it amazing how beautiful and complex the insides of animals and people could be, and the simplified anatomy charts Miss Keane had given the Girls for homework did not do it justice.

Buttercup's statement had attracted stares from both Blossom and Bubbles, the former who scrutinized her with an angry glare while the latter gave her a look one would give to a ravenous animal, but it quickly changed to one of sadness as Bubbles returned her attention to her drawing of a more idealized version of the three of them.

"Don't mind my sister, Miss Keane. She's weird like that," Blossom said, even as she continued to stab Buttercup with her eyes.

"Buttercup," Miss Keane said in a lecturing tone, having heard Blossom but she was too focused on the problem to reply her. "Violence is not a happy memory. Didn't your father teach you that?"

"Yes, Miss Keane, but… I don't feel that way, no matter how hard I try," Buttercup admitted. She was still admiring her own work, touching it up with her red crayon. Soon, Miss Keane's words were forgotten in favour of her obsession. "Should I add more bullets? I didn't know drawing could be so much fun!"

It was a stark reminder of the world that Miss Keane was thrust into. Sure, some of the kids were exposed to violence of all sorts from domestic to criminal, and there were more in this city than others, but none of them were anywhere near this close to it, to the point of directly participating in it.

Before she could do anything, there was rapping on the door. A man in trench coat and fedora. Today's visitor. She had forgotten about him in light of Buttercup's unhealthy obsession. She struggled to remember her own schedule. A first in her career. The deal with the USDO had really turned her life upside-down.

The man in the trench coat and fedora. The detective. Miss Keane finally remembered. Detective Mullens. Here for a little show and tell for the police. Something arranged on a regular basis in partnership with the TPD and Mayoral Office, 'to set children down on the right path', they said.

"Class, it's time to put down your crayons. We have two visitors today!" Miss Keane announced, forcing as much excitement as she could out of her lungs. She reached out for Buttercup's drawing, whispering her request: "How about if I have that, Buttercup?"

"It's my favorite, but you can have it. I can draw an even better one at home! Do you really like it, Miss Keane?" Buttercup asked.

"Yes, very much, now eyes to the front, Buttercup, and be polite to our visitors," Miss Keane whispered to her most troubled student thus far, never forgetting what she was and what she had tried to do to one of her older students. Rolling up Buttercup's macabre drawing and sticking it inside her vest, almost exposing her sidearm but she'd quickly hugged it tightly, she went for the door. "Now class, this is Mister Mullens and…" Miss Keane waved a hand at a second representative of the Townsville Police Department who had just appeared, gesturing for her to introduce herself.

"Officer Olivia will do," the female officer said gruffly, her voice rough and well-projected even when she didn't mean to be. Not a single child in the room had missed it.

Mister Mullens. Blossom thought the name familiar. Something she'd heard before in the background. It took longer, but her sisters arrived at the same idea as well. When the man in the trench coat came in, it was all but certain why it sounded familiar. They'd seen that man before. Twice. And neither of their encounters with the man was pleasant.

Behind him was the other representative of Townsville Police Department. A much younger officer, half the detective's age. Light-brown skinned. A mix of African-American and Caucasian blood. Blossom thought that the two officers bore some kind of resemblance, but she couldn't quite place it - she had still much to learn when it comes to facial recognition and description. They both bore the same no-nonsense expression though.

"Class B for Buzzing Bees, am I right?" Mister Mullens clarified with the classroom gruffly, forcing a smile through his slightly-wrinkled weather-beaten face, the faint laceration scar on his lip disturbing what was already a very shallow smile. The entire class stared at him as if a fairy-tale ogre had just entered the room. But then disjointed murmurs of agreement came from one student after another. None came from The Three as Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup stared at him as if they had seen a ghost.

Mister Mullens stared at the class in return, before his eyes were fixed on the three new 'protectors' of Townsville. It took his all not to let his disdain for these three kindergartners show in his eyes, but the way he looked at them lengthily was enough for him to communicate what he thought of them.

The detective sat down on Miss Keane's desk. The fun began after that, but it wasn't the usual kind of fun. For the entire half hour he was there, the Girls were tense, that they actually felt their body ache from it. No one but Miss Keane noticed, as the rest of the class were asking all sorts of morbid and innocent questions in equal measure, that Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were silent throughout.

It wasn't a coincidence that the detective had met the Girls in Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. It was all arranged, and Detective Mullens knew it too. The USDO and TPD had arranged for them to meet for the sake of future cooperation, and more besides, much to his chagrin. After what had happened at Townsville Central Bank, he had wanted nothing more to do with these… 'secret weapons'. The Scorpion, the Capo responsible for the heist, was dead because of them, and he had carried with him to his grave vital information and evidence for his case. Despite the influence and wealth of the Lombardi Mafiaso, it wasn't every day that they would arrange for such an operation to be carried out. It was like losing that one card he needed for the royal flush he'd been building.

And he was going to let them know, too.

"Now who wants to go on a ride-along?" he finally said, after divulging some facts of the police made kid-friendly enough. Hands shot up immediately, despite Detective Mullens' gruff attitude. It didn't matter. He had his eyes on Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup.

"How about the three of you princesses?" he said, allowing some condescension through, allowing for plausible deniability in case Miss Keane decided to do something about it. "You three look special, and there's a special place at the back of my car for the three of you." He got off Miss Keane's desk. "Come on, on the double!"

The car ride towards the City of Townsville proper was silent as the tall apartments and skyscrapers of the city gravitated closer. If one were to check the book, it was a way to grill suspects into talking, and it was working with the Girls. With the exception of Buttercup, the Girls looked a little horrified to be sharing a car with him, despite their under-used abilities.

"The name's Mullens, by the way," the detective introduced himself as he viewed the Girls from the rear-view mirror. "That's Detective Mullens for you." the policewoman sitting on the shotgun seat was also observing the Girls, but her eyes were less harsh than the detective's. If nothing else, they were soft, concerned. Understanding. Blossom looked her in the eyes through the rear-view mirror, begging for relief. The policewoman, Olivia, Blossom remembered the name, looked away.

"Do you have a first name, Mister Mullens?" Blossom brought up the courage to ask. She barely made it without sounding weak.

"Detective Mullens," the man corrected sternly. "My first name's not for strangers."

"But we're not strangers, we've met before," Blossom said.

"Yes, we have," Detective Mullens said ominously. "And do you remember how we met?"

"The town hall, and…" Blossom said in hindsight. She remembered his face as clear as day. Who could forget?

"At the bank, too," Bubbles completed Blossom's sentence, surprisingly.

"At the bank," Detective Mullens growled bitterly.

SIlence pervaded the detective's car once more. It was a classic muscle car, perfect for high-speed chases, dark gray to avoid suspicion whenever he went dark.. The engine spoke for the detective's ire as he drove forever forwards towards Townsville.

As the detective patrolled a random route around the city, he tried to get to know the Girls better, though he'd asked his questions too curtly and too directly, too interrogatively for the Girls to be completely at ease. It was all on purpose. They deserved it. The only thing stopping him from making the Girls squeal and cry was the Girls' Lamborghini transports tailing him - reminding him of the ever-present eye of the USDO now watching the city, his city, growing bigger with each passing day.

What he learned of the Girls didn't put him at ease. Their 'father' was a nerdy out-of-towner, same as the USDO, and he was with the USDO. He'd taught them nothing but pacifistic bullshit, and whatever little they learned of the real world was from their mother, a 'security officer'. Blossom was a know-it-all who knew nothing, Bubbles should have stayed in her room with her Barbie dolls while Buttercup should be put in a church and Sunday school. That was aside from the fact that they were a little too young to be out in the streets. They weren't fit to even write speeding tickets at all, much less help take down the largest mob in Townsville, or even the United States.

That was when the radio sounded out with an assault in progress. Detective Mullens took it. After all, it was a ride-along. Might as well show something fun.

"Let me show you how it's done," the detective said, still severe, as he switched his police lights and siren on, driving downtown. It wasn't far. It was perfect for a demonstration.

Within minutes, Detective Mullens had taken them to the site of the crime-in-progress. "Stay in the car with them," he said to his partner, the policewoman.

"Shouldn't I come along as backup?" Olivia said even as Mullens was halfway from shutting the driver's door.

"Just take care of the Girls," he said, and without waiting for a reply, shut the door.

The perpetrator and victim were on the streets. Crowds of bystanders had gathered in the distance, but none of them had intervened - as it was office hours, they were few and half-filled with seniors. The attacker, a surprisingly normal-looking man in a business suit, was kicking a more casual-wearing man who was down on the curb. A baseball bat was clutched in one of the aggressor's hands, spattered with blood. The victim was a man in denim jacket and pants, black shirt underneath. Ear rings and dyed hair. Despite looking like he needed the ER, he was still smiling and gibbering and giggling.

"Hey, baseball bat boy, why don't you drop it? Save your aggression for your new home? I'll even show you your new room." Detective Mullens warned the perp. He was within striking range, but he wasn't afraid. Punks with baseball bats weren't even breakfast this part of the world. Blossom watched with grim helplessness. From what she'd seen, there could be no happy outcome from this. Bubbles refused to watch. Buttercup beside her was smiling with anticipation, waiting for the kill.

Baseball Bat Perp appeared to be crying, his tears mingling with the blood splattered on his face. Without warning, he swung his baseball bat at Detective Mullens, who ducked to let the wood sail over him harmlessly, having anticipated that. Surging forward, he swept Baseball Bat Perp off his feet with a leg and a palm to his throat. The assaulter fell flat on his ground.

"Bad move, pal. I gave you a chance," the detective said as the criminal was on the ground. "You have the right to remain silence-" But before he could read the rest of the Miranda Warning and kick the baseball bat away, the perp played his game and swung the bat at his calves, harder than what he looked like he was capable of.

Their positions were switched quickly, with Baseball Bat Perp getting up and Detective Mullens down on the ground. Except one of them had a revolver. Detective Mullens pulled his large revolver without a moment's hesitation as the criminal was making an overhead swing with his bat.

BAM! There was a shout from the passers-by, people scattering, but overall less panicky than a normal crowd in some other, safer, city. Mullens had put a hole through the man's shoulder, and he was back down on the ground, falling at the same time as his baseball bat. The detective got up and rolled the suspect onto his belly with a push of his foot while the wounded man was crying and moaning in pain. He read the Miranda warning uninterrupted this time as he handcuffed the assaulter. Paramedics arrived soon after. Detective Mullens leaned the wounded perp against a lamppost as the detective sat on the hood of his car, nursing the bruise forming on his calf. The paramedics tended to both the attacker and victim separately.

Blossom got out of the muscle car, visible shock on her face. Officer Olivia tried to grab her and get her back, but she was in the middle of radioing for backup.

"Blossom! Stop!" Olivia shouted, but had to continue speaking into the radio. She did so hurriedly. Blossom did not stop. She walked timidly up to Baseball Bat Perp. She had to know. One of the paramedics stepped between her and her query.

"Girl, this is no place to be playing around. It's dangerous here," the paramedic said. Blossom pushed the paramedic aside, who stumbled despite the little girl using only a mere fraction of her strength. Confused, the paramedic didn't try again.

"It's okay, I'll handle it," Officer Olivia said to the paramedic as she rushed up to Blossom. "What are you doing! Blossom!"

Blossom ignored the policewoman. Instead, she stared into the eyes of the perp, her pink, glowing eyes piercing into the soul of the wounded man. The man stared back, knowing full well that this was no ordinary girl.

"Why did you do it?" Blossom asked the man.

"I had to," the man said.

"Why?" Blossom asked again.

"That man killed my wife," the perp said. "Did unspeakable things to her before that, too. And he was let go after only a few years in jail!"

"What sort of things?" Blossom asked, her voice soft, sympathetic and understanding.

"It's nothing a little girl should know," he said softly, tears sprouting from his eyes, fresh. There was no shame in them. He had nothing left. "I had to live with it for years, then I saw him here, walking on the sidewalk like nothing happened."

"Blossom!" another man's voice boomed as a hand seized Blossom by the arm, pulling her back. She did not expect it, and so did not put up any resistance. When she turned around, she saw that it was Mullens. Bubbles and Buttercup weren't far behind him. People were watching, wondering why three girls were with a pair of hardened police officers.

Mullens was able to pull Blossom back to the car before she shook him loose. "Let me go!"

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" the detective yelled at the girl.

"I was talking to him!" Blossom yelled back, caught in the moment. She was surprised at her own audacity, but she couldn't wait to smell the roses. The detective backed her up against the car.

"You don't speak to criminals. You don't know them. They're the enemy, you understand?" Detective Mullens jabbed two fingers into Blossom's shoulder as he lectured her. "You don't open your pie hole unless you're grilling them, capiche? They're the bad guys! Is that plain enough for you?"

"But Daddy said that they're not all bad! Some of them are just poor or desperate, and that man looked really sad!" Blossom countered, despite still feeling the uncomfortable jab of the detective's fingers on her shoulder.

"What are you, born yesterday!?" Detective Mullens said condescendingly.

"No, I was born three weeks ago!" Blossom defended, unaware of how ridiculous her actual age sounded in the eyes of a normal human being. With what the man knew, the fact had actually caught him off-guard at first, but he quickly recovered.

"Right, 'course you are. Yeah, they'll spin their stories any ol' way they want. That's how they trick stupid little girls like you - with their little sob stories," Detective Mullens chided harshly. "And that's how talking got you into trouble the other day at the bank. Not only that, you ruined my investigation, you stupid girlie!"

"Stop calling me stupid!" Blossom cried, shaking, barely holding tears back. It was all too much. Mayor Wilford's promise of love from the people if she fought crime, felt harder to achieve, and it was blowing up in her face again and again. Behind Mullens, Buttercup was barely able to resist a smirk as Blossom was under fire again. Bubbles stared at the two of them, unsure of what to do with her limbs, a sure sign of powerlessness. "You're a bad man, Mister Mullens! You're just like the robbers!"

What Blossom said ticked him off. His campaign against the Lombardi was held back, and it was all due to these Three of the so-called Project Powerpuff. Yet, they either refused to admit it, or they couldn't see it, no matter how glaringly obvious they had failed in their maiden mission. And his Police Chief had requested that The Three assist in his efforts. It could only spell disaster, failure after failure. Which meant that somewhere down the road, as the Amoeba Boys caught wind of him, he was going to lose, and badly, but what scared him was that his family's going to pay big time for his failure, The Three's failure.

Detective Mullens seized Blossom by the dress, easily lifting her off her feet. He slammed her against the door of his car.

"Now you listen to me, you lil' pipsqueak!" the detective snarled, pressing his face close to hers. Blossom could smell his acidic breath, see just how much fire was in his eyes. "You want to serve up some justice? Then you'd better learn fast, or I swear to God-" He could feel a hand on his shoulder. Officer Olivia's.

"What is it, Olive? Can't you see I'm busy?" the detective said.

"People are looking. We have to do this nice and quietly," Officer Olivia said. Detective Mullens looked over her shoulders to see another crowd of bystanders forming, whispering, gossiping, looking at him.

"Hey, copper, how about keeping the police brutality out of the playground!?" a man from the crowd yelled.

"Yeah, this is just too much!" a woman added.

"What's the world coming to!?" another man shouted.

"No wonder the mobs' winning!" another person said. An exaggeration, but what could the detective do?

Just then, two police cruisers arrived. Backup was here to take the Baseball Bat Perp away. His job was done. Thank God.

Detective Mullens looked Blossom in the eyes, sizing her up. What was she? Was she dirty? Like all the rest of them? It couldn't be. She was just a kid. Was she idiotic? No, he hated to admit it, but she seemed bright. All he saw was innocence in those bright, pink irises, and it led right back to him. For the first time in a good, long while, he felt some kind of remorse for his violence. He let go of Blossom. She landed on her feet as deftly as a cat, wiping tears away. "Get in the car. Now," he said simply as he got into the driver's seat. "All of you! Now!"

The City of Townsville. Downtown. Townsville Police Department Headquarters.

16 DEC 1988 (Friday). 1105.

Detective Mullens stopped his car at the sidewalk. Looking at the police headquarters, he couldn't help but to look inwards too. Everything that had happened had given him much to think about. He looked into the rear-view mirror, checking up on the Girls. Blossom was still shaken, that she wasn't even aware that she had put her head on Buttercup's shoulder. Buttercup had her arm around her leader's shoulders, whispering false, insincere words of comfort. Sometimes, a smile would wound up exposed on her lips, but those were quickly suppressed.

Regret wormed his way into his heart, doing something that money couldn't: getting to him.

Ting Ting! Mullens could barely hear the bell through the windshield of his car. He looked around at the source of the call for customers. An ice cream stand, serving up cones to some bored desk cops.

Ice cream. Girls. It didn't occur to him immediately. It had been too long since he had to take care of children, over a decade too long. Reaching for his wallet, he pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to Officer Olivia.

The policewoman took it, understanding what he implied immediately.

"Girls, how about ice cream? His treat," Officer Olivia offered.

"I don't feel up to it," Blossom said.

"Okay…" Bubbles agreed, but only reluctantly.

"Oh yeah! Can I have a double scoop, can I?" Buttercup said enthusiastically, making up for her siblings' lack of it.

"Blossom, it'd be rude to reject someone's gift," the policewoman said. She gestured with her eyes at Detective Mullens, who was staring ahead of his vehicles, thunderclouds of emotions and dark thoughts around him. She wasn't sure if she was able to tell them everything with her eyes alone, but she was sure that most of it was lost in translation.

"I guess I'll have the ice cream," Blossom corrected her decision.

"Yeah! Ice cream! Can I have chocolate mint and apple?" Buttercup's voice trailed off as the Girls left the muscle car with Officer Olivia.

Detective Mullens stared after them as they approached the ice cream man in heavy winter gear. Wheeling down his window, he took out a pack of cigarettes and a light, lit himself one and had a puff.

"And what would you like to have?" Olivia asked the leader of The Three, who had fixed her gaze on the police headquarters like Mullens as distraction.

"Anything will do, Miss Olivia," Blossom said. Olivia looked at her, all concerned. Detective Mullens had done his damage, and it was going to take more than a cone of randomly-flavored ice cream to fix.

"One scoop of cherry and one of chocolate for pinkie here, please," Olivia ordered from the ice cream man. The ice cream man, an white-haired pudgy old man, opened his cart and started scooping.

"Beautiful little girls you have there, Olivia," the ice cream man said. He was a regular fixture outside the Police Headquarters. Most of the police officers there knew him. "Nieces here to visit or somethin'? Best you keep 'em safe, y'hear? This town isn't the best place to be in. But you don't need me to tell you that."

"They're really special kids for sure, like you won't be able to imagine," Olivia said.

"Gotcha, Olivia. Well, there you go," the old man held out a cone with a double serving of ice cream. He scanned Blossom from head to toe. Officer Olivia weren't kidding about the kids. There was something about this 'Blossom' that he couldn't quite catch. He eventually settled on the eyes though. It was of a color he had never seen on a girl before. However, they were filled with so much sadness for how beautiful they were. "Tell ya what-" he retracted the ice cream and added some syrup on top. Cherry with marshmallow bits. "A little extra for the extra-cute eh?"

Blossom smiled at the kindly old man and his generosity as she took the cone of ice cream. It was a welcome relief from the hatred that seemed to ooze out of every corner of Townsville.

Bubbles received a vanilla and blueberry ice cream while Buttercup got what she wanted. They spent some time licking their syrupy globes, enjoying the taste. Blossom took little; the ice cream wasn't going anywhere, not in winter. Officer Olivia noticed how down she was. She'd noticed right from the beginning.

"You know, he's actually a really nice guy," the police officer said. She had a scoop of corn-flavored ice cream herself. It was the healthy alternative. With her free fist, she put it against her heart. "In here. He's just… seen too many things, that's all. It took me a very long time to see that, to accept that, but here I am, sitting beside him in his muscle car."

"He's cool, Miss Olivia. I like him!" Buttercup agreed, as if this was all just another walk in the park. To her, there was practically nothing wrong with Detective Mullens. The only thing that struck her as slightly off was the brooding, but even then, it was a minor thing.

"I'm glad you do!" Officer Olivia said with a chuckle. "He can sure use as many fans as he can get."

"I find it hard to believe that he's nice," Bubbles stated between licks.

"Well, you should've seen him when he was younger. God, he was such a knight in shining armor back then," the policewoman said, her eyes beyond the horizon, peeking into a past that could never come again. "He was the closest thing to a superhero Townsville had. Took down hundreds, but it wasn't without cost. It all got too much, I'm only beginning to understand. And now…"

The Three and the police officer looked at the detective in his old muscle car, whose gaze was locked on the police headquarters, but he wasn't looking. His cigarette dangled between two fingers outside the car. He'd produced a hip flask, wondering if he should risk a sip, before thinking better of it and hiding it again.

"You're worried about him," Blossom asserted. The gloom in her was lifted slightly with enlightenment, but not entirely. The darkness around her was so thick that it choked her - and it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to understanding the true extend of the crime and corruption and darkness in Townsville.

"Actually, I'm worried about us," Officer Olivia said. "Well, him, too. But when he told me about the three of you, I couldn't believe my ears - I mean, I've heard rumors, but… Crime-fighting 5-year-olds with crazy powers?"

"Anyway, I'm just worried that we're all going to become just like him. I know just too many of us who're exactly like him," the officer continued.

"I promised my Daddy that I'm going to be his Blossom forever, same as always," Blossom said. "I promised him."

"So did he," Olivia said, referring to Detective Mullens. "I guess it's unavoidable that when you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you. And then before you know it, the two of you are one."

"What do you mean?" Blossom asked. Officer Olivia did not reply immediately.

"Nothing. Nevermind," the police officer simply said. "Just something someone else said. Something I learned in school."

"Anyway, beneath all that iron he's wrapped up around himself, that detective's a nice guy," Officer Olivia said again. "He didn't say it, but he's really sorry about what he did to you, Blossom. Some men, you know, especially the older ones. But he means well. He just didn't want you to make the same mistake he did."

"Oh… I'm just… really sorry too," Blossom said.

They took their time filing away at their ice cream, and when they were done, they were driven straight back to Pokey Oaks Kindergarten. The trip was mostly silent, until the most silent of them all spoke up.

"We'll be working together from now on," Detective Mullens said suddenly. "Like colleagues, I guess, even if I look ten times your age." He still could not believe that the Girls weren't even a month old. But then again, just weeks ago, he wouldn't have believed that there were such a thing as bulletproof girls with super-strength in the world.

"Yes, Mister Mullens," Blossom said, the troubles of before less. Before she knew it, the school was coming back into view. It had been a long day. "When will I see you again?"

"Sooner than you think," the detective said cryptically as he was bringing his car to a stop.

Chapter Text

A/N: As some of you might have noticed, my uploads have slowed a little. This is due to the fact that I have completely cleared my backlog of chapters. This is the last of it, which means that this particular chapter was only recently completed - something like 12 hours ago. So, from now on, uploads will likely come in only once every two or three days, assuming nothing happens to me in real life that'd take me out of action.

Television Recording 12161988-TNN

The following transcript is a recording of the TNN (Townsville News Network) channel from 2101-2109.

TRANSCRIPT START

(Logo of the TNN shows and fades)

Stanley Whitfield: Good evening, I'm your news anchor, Stanley Whitfield, here to keep an eye on the storm that is Townsville.

Sally Perth: And I am Sally Perth, staying on top of things to keep a bird's eye view of our stunning city!

Stanley Whitfield: Today's top news - the Townsville Central Bank, or rather, the controversy surrounding it. On the 14 of December, there was an attempted robbery in the Townsville Central Bank, resulting in 12 citizens and police officers killed. It marks the first time the USDO has intervened to assist in fighting crime around Townsville. (Turns to look at Sally Perth)

Sally Perth: The siege of the bank was controversial because of the blanket ban on the media around the surrounding area. But there's been a development. Just hours ago, we have received a video footage alleged to be a capture of the event, from an anonymous source, a film student producing an overnight footage of the city skyline on the rooftop of a nearby building. Here it is… now:

(the footage is shot from a building at least 12 storey high. The police blockade around the Townsville Central Bank could be seen very clearly, and in the middle of it are three strange officers in red, blue and green gear, talking to a man in black. The video quality is too poor to make out their faces. Despite the distance, they are clearly too small to be adults, and colored wrongly to be SWAT officers. The man they are talking to points to the building, and the three in red, blue and green walks towards it, until they enter the bank.

There is a time skip to abridge the video. The windows of the bank shatter from gunshots. The red short person, while carrying the blue one, who appears to be dead or unconscious, busts through the door and hides under a window. The short person in green leaps through the window, falling on her belly, before scrambling to hide under the window.)

Stanley Whitfield: A rather strange video to say the least, showing some non-typical police response to the bank heist. Experts believe the video to be authentic, based on the hand movement of the camera and the lack of marks left by doctoring. We have the said expert on the line, here to comment on the video itself. What is it about, Doctor Philips Tetsuo?

Doctor Philips Tetsuo: (voice and photograph only) Yes, the video is a curious one. The main subjects of the video are, of course, the strange, short people in red, blue and green-colored gear. Based on my analysis, they are about the size of- of little children, perhaps a maximum of, say, 48 inches tall, but they are likely shorter. Judging from the positioning of the the short people and the person they are talking to, relative to the white humvee of the USDO close to them, I would say that they are from the United States Defence Organization. From a logical, ah, standpoint, it makes sense, as they are participating in a major police response for the first time, while the Townsville Police Force has never fielded anyone or anything so small before.

Stanley Whitfield: Do you have any idea who or what they are?

Doctor Philips Tetsuo: It's, urm, baffling to say the least. They appear to move fluidly enough, based on the video, so, urm, they are not any kind of machines or robots. They could either be… children or people suffering from dwarfism - but that just leaves us with the, ah, question. What on Earth is the USDO doing with children or dwarves? For you conspiracy theorists out there, they could be aliens, of course, hahaha.

Stanley Whitfield: Haha- Thank you, Doctor Philips. When queried on this video, the USDO spokesperson dismissed it as a hoax, believed to be perpetrated for the purpose of discrediting the USDO. Due to the fact that we are not allowed to approach eyewitnesses present in the bank itself and the surviving bank robbers of the heist, there is zero evidence for either side of this conversation.

Sally Perth: Perhaps they really are aliens, considering the tight security and secrecy.

Stanley Whitfield: Hahaha- They could very well be.

Sally Perth: In other news... Cults. Since 8pm today, the Temple of His Promise, one of several major homegrown cults in Townsville, is holding a rally in Perkins Avenue Park. The Temple of His Promise, one of the older cults of Townsville, was founded by one Kane 'Raven' Jayne in the early 60s, known as 'His Avatar', a title denoting the second highest position in the cult. We bring to you live on the scene, Phil Robertson. Phil?

(the scene switches to one that is out in the open,in a residential area surrounded by short apartment buildings. A large crowd is gathered around the reporter, who is pressing his earphone deeper inside his ear because of the racket.)

(There is loud chanting all around him. It sounds like it is in another language - nothing familiar like any of the European or Asian languages.)

Phil Robertson: We're here at the Temple of His Promise rally at Perkins Avenue Park. It's loud and it's alive. There's over five hundred people in attendance, but that's counting only the cultists. They have their own security detail, and there's been some long-standing rumors that some of them are part of the mafia and associated with the Lombardi as well as the minor families and gangs. (He walks to the left, and the camera swings to track him, showing lines of well-dressed men and women standing in front and behind some railings.)

(The chanting continues)

There are protesters of various religious groups just beyond the park - Catholics, Protestants, you name it. They've been at it since right from the beginning, and they don't like the cultists very much. You can see from just beyond the lines of bouncers that they are chanting verses from the Holy Bible. (camera swerves around to focus on the Christian protesters. They are all holding either bibles or lit candles) Some other independent groups have been shouting slurs. Even the police seem a little apprehensive. They're keeping their distance.

(The camera returns to the reporter, who approaches a young woman who appears to be part of the cult. She is wearing heavy Gothic make-up, thigh-high boots and dark trench coat. She stares at the camera with a piercing gaze that looks as if it could reach the viewer, whoever they are, before she turns it upon Phil Robertson)

Hi ma'am, I'm Phil of TNN. Care to introduce yourself? (points mic at follower)

Temple of His Promise Follower: (stares intensely at Phil) My name is immaterial in this vast universe and the next above… I serve him, the old one, our gateway to the world beyond, who opens our eyes to pleasures at the ceiling of this world and the next…

Phil Robertson: (takes back mic, pause as he stares back at the Follower, intimidated even though he is more than a head taller than the Goth girl) I see. So, what can you tell me about this lovely evening rally you have here? (points mic at follower)

Temple of His Promise Follower: His coming is near. We are here to remember that, to preach his coming so that more may know and taste the pleasures of the world beyond. They will join us in the writhing pleasures of the flesh and beyond, or perish in his fire.

Phil Robertson: (takes back mic) Tasteful.

Temple of His Promise Follower: Without a doubt. (continues to stare intensely at Phil)

Phil Robertson: So, what is he? Another version of God or the Devil? (points the mic at the follower)

Temple of His Promise Follower: He is both and neither. But unlike God or the Devil, he is very real, and he is everywhere and nowhere. His servants are among us, and apart from us. Most of them are wayward souls with his essence, but they will soon know who their true master… mistress is.

Phil Robertson: (takes back mic) Huh. Well, that's very interesting, ma'am. (The Goth girl sidles up to him) Um-

Temple of His Promise Follower: I can show you the beginnings of his teaching.

Phil Robertson: That's a very kind offer ma'am, but no thanks. (The follower takes him by the upper arms) Ma'am- (follower tiptoes to kiss him. He cranks his head back) We're on live camera- (Phil gestures for the camera feed to be cut)

Stanley Whitfield: Thank you, Phil. And good luck, Phil. (it is unsure if he is winking because one of his eyes is perpetually closed. He clears his throat before speaking again) In other news, a double-whammy case of police brutality out in the streets of downtown Townsville. At 10:38am this morning, two police officers had responded to a call at Anderson Avenue, where one attempted to arrest a perpetrator in an assault case. Eyewitness accounts states that the detective responding to the crime had goaded the perpetrator into attacking him, before shooting him. Not only that, the police officer's car had been carrying three little girls, estimated to be 5-years-old, and the detective would later assault one of them himself. A video has been submitted to us hours after the incident, which we'll bring to you… now:

( There is lots of background noise. The video is shot from across the street, from behind a window in what appears to be a diner. We see Detective Mullens getting out of the car, leaving on policewoman and three little girls in his car. He approaches the assaulter, talks to him. They tussle, and eventually, Mullens shot the assaulter while the detective was down on the ground. One of the Girls, the one in pink, came out, and after briefly speaking to the perpetrator, she was pulled back by the detective and slammed against his car.)

Stanley Whitfield: When questioned about this incident, the Townsville Police Department's public relations spokesperson claimed that they are currently investigating the incident and the personnel involved. What do you think, Perth? Are they stalling for time or are they clean?

Sally Perth: The police? Clean in Townsville? I doubt it - they're never clean. But they are the good guys, at least most of the time. We'll have more news after the break.

(The following commercial is a USDO production, meant to steer public sentiments towards accepting the USDO as part of their life)

(The USDO Eagle and Shield fades in with an official tune)

Narrator: We are the U - S - D - O. The United States Defence Organization.

(Stock footage which is colored shows US marines streaming past a camera)

Narrator: Around since the second world war, we stand vigilant, watching over our troops, and now you.

(Old footage of Organization scientists working in a lab, putting together a prototype tank)

Narrator: Where strength of arms fail, we put steel behind them, so that it may thrust, true, and stick a blade into the heart of evil.

(Old footage of Organization scientists working on mixing chemicals in a lab)

Narrator: Where the solution to the lack of security requires the application of the mind, we are there where others will fail.

(Old footage of soldiers fighting in the foxholes of the Korean War)

Narrator: We saw to the the frantic defence of our allies in Asia-

(Old footage of soldiers fighting in the jungles of Vietnam)

Narrator: as well as in Southeast Asia, making the lives of the soldiers, our soldiers, better with more reliable equipment.

(scene switches to a footage of a street in downtown, Townsville, with USDO humvees and soldiers standing guard.)

Narrator: And now we are here with you, discovering the next secret to fighting crime, and the forces of evil.

(scene switches to one of USDO soldiers arresting criminals, backing them up against the wall, pointing rifles at them)

Narrator: Far removed from the locality, we are an incorruptible force, insurmountable for we bring technology, equipment and tactics long forbidden to the enforcers of order - down on the heads of the agents of chaos.

(scene switches back to a USDO logo that fades in)

Narrator: U - S - D - O. Guarding liberty and freedom, no matter the cost. We are the U - S - D - O. Let us do it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 47: Hide and Seek (Part 1)

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

16 DEC 1988 (Friday). 2125.

"This is the hardest homework ever! I can't understand this map-thing no matter how hard I try…" Bubbles said. She and Blossom were on their queen-sized tri-colored bed, figuring out a map of Townsville together, which took up much of the space on their bed. Blossom, thus far, was able to make some kind of sense of it. "I don't understand these lines." She pointed at the topographical lines all over the map, especially in places where there were no houses.

"Miss Keane said not to mind those," Blossom said. "I don't know what they mean either…"

"But what about these?" Bubbles pointed to another set of colored lines. "I forgot what they were."

"Bubbles!" Blossom chided, though her tone was lessened by her sisterly worry. "Those are roads, like the ones outside our house."

"Oh, I keep forgetting that. I keep getting them confused with the rest of the lines…" Bubbles explained timidly, pointing at the power lines, railway lines, metro lines, rivers and again, the topographical lines. To be fair to her, the map Miss Keane had given them was huge and fully detailed.

"The roads have names and most of the others don't," Blossom explained, pointing out an example: Perkins Avenue. "We just have to remember all of them…" It was no easy feat, even for Blossom, as she still had to associate the innumerable roads with the real rivers of asphalt and tar outside her house.

"It's giving me a headache," Bubbles complained. "Where's Buttercup anyway? She's been using the washroom all the time."

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The clown phone, forever smiling at them from the window-side wall of the room, interrupted them. Blossom and Bubbles looked up to regard it, beads of cold sweat forming almost immediately.

Blossom ran up to it at the speed of a car, knowing that it was an emergency. It had been an emergency the last time. When she was next to the phone, however, she hesitated, knowing what would come next.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The clown phone insisted, still smiling. For some reason, Blossom read ill intent into its smile.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The hotline nagged. Blossom finally picked it up.

"Hello?" Blossom greeted the agent on the other end of the line.

"Evening, Blossom. You really need to put that super-speed of yours to work picking up the phone, Blossom. Every second counts, remember that. Anyway, we got a call. This one's big, but then again, so are all of them. Suit up, and don't forget to take your submachineguns out," Agent Blake instructed.

"Yes, Mister Blake…" Blossom acknowledged. But there was something in her chest that she needed to get off. "Mister Blake!" she said urgently before the USDO security officer could hang up. But the feeling in her chest was hard to translate. "I… uh…"

"It'll be fine, Blossom. It's going to be different this time," Agent Blake reassured her.

"Okay…" Blossom said. The feeling in her chest hadn't gone away, and it had also spread to her stomach. Her friend in the USDO had known exactly what she felt. Fear of failure. Anxiety. Butterflies in her stomach, and a Buttercup to watch out for.

There was a rap on the door. Blossom called for whoever was knocking to come in, knowing full well who it was. The door opened. It was Professor Utonium. He came in already looking around, seeing only two girls.

"Where's Buttercup?" the professor asked.

"I think she's in the washroom. She's been in there for a while," Bubbles told him. She was already undoing the black sash of her dress.

"I'll go check on her before I get ready," the professor said before turning around, giving Blossom and Bubbles their privacy. The two girls proceeded to open the closet to pull their uniform, gear and weapons out. The professor had set aside a portion of the closet as their ad-hoc armory. However, as the Girls were bulletproof, there was little need to control access to the guns and grenades inside the closet. They were all just neatly arranged in an unlocked trunk.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

16 DEC 1988 (Friday). 2131.

"Buttercup! We have a call!" Professor Utonium shouted as he was approaching the washroom that Buttercup was occupying. "Buttercup!" He got up to the door leading into the washroom. There was no response. 'What's going on with her?' he thought. Putting an ear on the door, he thought he could hear something. Giggles? He thought he heard giggles in there. But what could she possibly be doing in there? He knocked on the door. "Buttercup!"

There was a gasp. Then footsteps as the soles of Buttercup's Mary Jane shoes rapidly tapped on the porcelain floor. There was the sound of the faucet turning and water rushing, before it was turned off. There was another set of footsteps, growing louder, before the door was unlocked with a loud 'klack!'. It swung open.

"Buttercup, what were you doing in there?" Professor Utonium asked.

"Nothing. I was just using the toilet," Buttercup said.

"Then why were you giggling inside?" the professor questioned.

"Oh, I…" Buttercup fumbled. She didn't think that she was that loud, and even then, she didn't think that anyone would be listening through the door. "I was using the toilet, and I thought of something funny."

The professor couldn't help but to raise an eyebrow at Buttercup's claim. Sure, it wasn't far-fetched, but there was something about it that didn't quite fit. Regardless, he had to let it go, as he didn't want their relationship stained by distrust. And then there was the call - there was no time. "Buttercup, you heard the phone, right? You should get changed."

"Yes, Daddy," Buttercup said before charging around him and into her room, knowing that he would allow super-speed in The House in the event of an emergency.

By the time Buttercup had returned to her room, her sisters had already changed, and were hanging weapons on their vest.

"Buttercup, come on! We're going to be late!" Blossom nagged at her tougher sister as she was pulling the slide on her pistol, chambering a bullet. She turned the safety on and slipped it into its holster. She picked up her SMG and loaded a magazine, pulling the charging handle. She had absorbed her firearms lessons well – actually using them was another matter entirely. She had no wish to. Buttercup, in the meantime, was changing at breakneck speed, and she was already pulling her green military trousers on.

"Why do we have to wear these stuff anyway? It looks good, but it never helped," Buttercup grumbled as she threw the rest of her uniform on, and laced up her boots.

Blossom and Bubbles were already impatient and rearing to go by the time Buttercup was done. She headed for the door.

"Buttercup, we're using the windows this time, it's faster," Blossom ordered. She and Bubbles were already opening their respective circular hatch-like windows. Buttercup decided to go along with it only because she thought it would be a cool way to get to Agent Blake. Just then, the door opened, and the professor popped in.

"Girls, what are you doing?" the professor asked when he saw that they were at the windows.

"It's faster this way, Dad. We'll see you downstairs," Blossom said as she unlatched the centre window and pushed it up.

"Are you sure you can get down there safely, honey?" Professor Utonium asked out of concern. He'd seen her jumping an entire storey unhurt, but… it wasn't something anyone could expect a 5-year-old to do, and it wasn't something the professor was used to.

"We'll be fine, Dad." Blossom reassured him with a smile as she pulled herself up to the rounded window sill effortlessly, herself, gear and weapons all – which would have left even the strongest of soldiers and athletes with their jaws on the floor. Bubbles copied her actions while Buttercup went along with it after a scoff.

Seeing them drop down from the window had sent the professor running, and when he'd reached the living room, he saw Selicia, like before, waiting for him near the front door, this time with not just her weapons and vest, but her helmet.

"Thomas," Selicia greeted him. They hadn't spoken to each other much ever since she had tried to force Bubbles into violence, only what was necessary to keep the family and the act running. "I need to go this time. Please."

Professor Utonium stared at his 'wife', or more accurately, his colleague or even subordinate. He thought he detected sincerity in her eyes. Thinking back, there was no doubt that she felt something for the Girls – as much as she said she did. Her way of expression it, however, was less than acceptable.

"Fine," the professor agreed, very reluctantly, as he brushed past his 'wife'. Sergeant Selicia Goodwin followed up behind him.

When the Girls had dropped down from their windows, Blossom felt a strange sensation as she landed. She thought she could feel herself physically slow down from the fall just before landing. It was the same thing she'd felt back in training, when she'd landed one storey below.

"Did you two feel that?" Blossom asked her sisters.

"Feel what?" Buttercup asked. She had landed crouching on threes.

"Yeah, feel what, Blossom?" Bubbles asked. Obviously oblivious.

Blossom considered what to say for a moment.

"Did the two of you feel anything before you touch the floor?" Blossom asked her sisters.

"Come to think of it…" Bubbles seemed lost in thoughts. "Is it normal?"

"No, nothing! I think it's just the snow, Blossom! We need to focus on the mission!" Buttercup bellowed impatiently. Her assessment seemed surprisingly convincing. The snow slowing her down seemed to explain things.

Yet, there was no snow inside the abandoned mall to slow her down.

The Girls waited at the lawn. When their parents were finally out, Blossom stood looking at her (secretly foster) parents, while Bubbles played with the snow with her boots, making boot prints as her SMG hung loosely on her shoulder, while Buttercup was clenching her fists around her own submachinegun, looking like she couldn't wait to get into action. Selicia thought they looked impressive, how far they'd come, how much they'd grown in the space of a month. The professor, on the other hand, didn't like the trajectory of their development. Two weeks ago, they had nothing but their dresses on as they tested their mettle against thousand pound weights and treadmills. A week ago, they wore kevlar, and had pistols only as a precaution. And now, they were armed with submachineguns, with flashbangs and smoke grenades on their vests. What would tomorrow bring? What would Crimesville do to them once they'd become a serious threat?

Together, the family trudged towards the three Lamborghinis. Sergeant Blake, alongside Corporal Rutherland, were waiting outside the doors of their their speed transport.

"Sorry, professor, I'm afraid we can't bring you this time," Blake held out a hand, apologizing. It seemed sincere. It came out of nowhere, surprised the professor. Now, he couldn't decide if it was a policy specifically targeting him, or if it was due to some standard procedure.

"What? Why not?" Professor Utonium pressed the agent for answers. "The Girls need me!" Upon hearing this, the Girls turned around, crowding around him like needy children.

"It's too dangerous this time. Combatants only. We won't have the benefit of being surrounded by police officers and soldiers this time," Agent Blake explained. "The Girls need you, so sending you in there to die is not the best way to go about doing things." He was being sympathetic - he couldn't help but to be. After having the scales removed from his eyes, having so much open up to him because of the Girls, he was completely on their side.

"What kind of war zone are you sending them into this time?" the professor asked, feeling his insides turn to ice. It was bad enough the last time, with Bubbles spiraling into shock very quickly and regressing for a day - she had only just barely recovered. The battle at Townsville Central Bank had driven a wedge between the sisterly love between Blossom and Buttercup, the professor thought. What would a worse scenario do to them now?

"I'm just the messenger and driver, prof," Agent Blake said, sensing anger directed at him. Understandable, but misguided. "It's not a direct assault, that much I know. They're going in quietly… At least at first. That's all I got. I don't know where it would be, and I don't know who they'll be going up against. They'll be briefed on-site."

"Dad…" Bubbles mewled, afraid of what all this meant. She would be away from Daddy, and for how long, she didn't know. The prospect of separation, in the face of violence, nearly to tears.

Professor Utonium knelt down to face his Girls. "Blossom… Bubbles. Buttercup. The three of you will have to go on without me."

"I can't," Bubbles cried.

"It's not fair. Why can't you stay with us a little longer?" Blossom lamented. The professor ran his hand across her cheek.

"Some things just are. If I go out there, I might put all of us in danger. I guess… I don't want you to have to choose between me, and what is right," the professor reasoned things out. Perhaps Agent Blake, or whoever had made the decision, was right to exclude him, even if their reasons were different from his. Buttercup stood at one side, saying nothing. There was nothing to be said - in her mind, she was dangling between two pleasures. Daddy could wait. There was explosions and fights to be had!

The professor spread his arms out, pulling the three Girls into a hug. "Just remember what I said - as long as the three of you are together, you have a family out there. Please, take good care of each other. Blossom, I'm counting on you." Blossom hugged the professor tight. He could smell the scent off her. The smell of an innocent baby, untainted by the world. When she let go, he looked up at Selicia. She gave him an idea.

"Blake, can Selicia go with the Girls?" the professor asked the security officer in SWAT gear as he straightened up.

"She's one of us, and I've seen her do some serious kicking. It's my pleasure to say 'yes'," Agent Blake said, feeling triumphant and useful for once, ever since he was knocked off his command position, stripped of rank. Professor Utonium turned to his 'wife'.

"Selicia, look after them for me, will you?" he said to her, and couldn't help but to arch his eyebrows and clench his jaws - it wasn't the best position for him, putting the Girls in her hands, but he'd have to compromise. He looked at the Girls, who didn't have a good impression of their parents' relationship, and it showed. Bubbles' shoulders were drooping, and she looked away, as if afraid that another argument would erupt soon. Blossom was almost angry herself, and for a rare moment, Buttercup appeared a little dismayed, though he couldn't be sure - her expressions had always been mild, except when she was angry, or fighting. If this kept up, the Girls would be fighting on empty. They would fail, and Bubbles' rating with the USDO committee would tank even further. And for all he knew, he'd wake up in the near future with Bubbles missing from her bed, and his other two angels not far behind.

He had to fix this. Coming up to Selicia, he pressed up against her, putting his arms around the security officer. He gave her a kiss. Nothing that would melt the snow around them, but still something no one, including himself and his 'wife', had seen before. Mouth-to-mouth, brief and as loving as he could make it. He stared into her eyes for a moment, searching, hoping for an understanding. What he saw was a mix of that, and confusion. He looked around at the Girls, and saw the same thing.

"It's a kiss, Girls," the professor explained. "It's the kind that you give when you really love someone." He tried his best to stomach the lie that he didn't love Selicia. Perhaps the next step was to force himself to love her, if there was such a thing. Their act the past week had been shoddy, maintained with total secrecy only because the Girls were inexperienced in life as much as they were in law enforcement. Slowly, smiles began to form on the Girls, even Buttercup. He looked at Selicia. "Go, and come back in one piece - all four of you!"

With that, the Girls and Selicia entered the speed transport. Agent Blake, for some reason, stayed.

"I'll be there for them, if it means anything to you," he said. "Instructions from Blackwater are that the convoy provide support fire and manpower whenever applicable. I intend to do that as often as I can."

Professor Utonium stood there, scanning Blake, this man who had usurped his position for three days - touched his Girls. The rational part of him knew that it didn't mean anything, but the emotional part of him wanted to deck the man.

"I don't know if it does, but make sure it means something to the Girls," he finally said, before turning around and walking away, his lab coat fluttering in the cold winter night wind.

Chapter Text

Chapter 48: Hide and Seek (Part 2)

The House. Mission Time - 5 mins

"Mom, what if Mister Blackwater shouts at me again?" Blossom asked Selicia at the other end of the car. Buttercup was sitting next to her, with Bubbles wedged in the between her sisters.

"Oh, don't be a scaredy cat, Blossom," Selicia Goodwin said. She puts her arm around Buttercup, who leaned on her, her face a picture of absolute bliss. She could sense the pendulum swinging in her favor again. "Besides, Chief Blackwater does that all the time to everyone. Right, Blake?"

"Right. I think he's just used to it," Blake answered with his eyes front and centre, concentrating on the road.

"Mmm…" Bubbles in the centre was shaking and whimpering. Somehow, she had managed to smuggle Octi into the car, without anyone noticing, and she was hugging it tightly, as if she was in the middle of the ocean and it was her life vest. It wasn't a secret what had gotten over her. She laid her head on Buttercup for comfort - despite her green-uniformed sister's rough edges, she found her to be a pillar of strength she could literally and metaphorically lean on. She was the unattainable goal - Bubbles had always wanted to be a little like her, tougher, but she just couldn't find it within her.

"Scared, Bubbles?" Buttercup asked, not out of concern. She'd kept her real tone a secret, her face veiled by shadows and Selicia. Inside, she was gloating and boasting. As long as Bubbles was around, there's a loser in the team to contrast herself with. But Blossom wasn't fooled. She'd seen enough of Buttercup to know what she's thinking. Besides, she found that she could somehow sense her sisters in some indescribable, dull way, and it wasn't through the conventional five senses and empathy either. She'd have to check in with the professor on what it was.

"Mm-hm… How are you so brave, Buttercup?" Bubbles asked, her voice wavering.

"I just am," Buttercup answered, surprisingly earnest. The question had prompted her to look inward. Fear and risk had never quite factored into her decisions. In fact, the former had hardly ever struck her and the latter was usually lost on her. "I don't think about it when I jump in."

"I wish I can be more like you," Bubbles admitted. Buttercup sat up, and looked around at Bubbles, who was still snuggling with her. Something stirred in Buttercup, a feeling almost unnatural to her. She put a reassuring arm around Bubbles, unsure of why she was even doing that. It all felt so strange to her, as if Bubbles had inspired something within her. Buttercup said nothing after that; she was too confused about herself and what to say.

"Now isn't that cute?" Selicia said, sincerely. "You're such a caring little angel, Buttercup."

"Thanks, Mom," Buttercup said in gratitude even though she knew that she was anything but caring.

"How about a little something to calm the nerves?" Agent Blake offered, and switched on the commercial radio. Tuning it, he turned to a pop song station, which immediately blared out Gloria Gaynor.

"-Oh no, not I, I will survive!

Oh, as long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive!

I've got all my life to live

And I've got all my love to give and I'll survive-" Gloria sang to them.

"Lovely," Blake commented. "All those wasted years without music…"

Townsville Industrial Park. Mission Time - 31 minutes

They had never been to this part of Townsville before, and it wasn't a part of Townsville that Mayor Wilford had mentioned. There were apartment buildings around them a few minutes ago, but that had given way to some little shops, then the industrial estates. They passed by factories, before reaching a sort of warehousing and storage area. The convoy took a turn into a canyon of tall warehouses, before coming to a full stop.

The doors of all three Lamborghini speed transports opened up, the first and the last of them disgorging soldiers from the front and back seat, three from each, pointing their weapons around them to cover every possible angle of attack. The street of this industrial area was dark, with islands of light every twenty metres or so, shined down upon the road by streetlamps. There was not a single soul in sight. Almost everyone in the area had gone home on rush hour, leaving behind security guards and all-nighters, who were all indoors and either busy idling or working hard.

"Take over the wheels for me, Corporal," Sergeant Blake ordered his shotgun sitter, before exiting the driver's seat and pulling his own weapon out, scanning the immediate surroundings. Sergeant Selicia Goodwin did the same. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup came out of the same door quickly, their super-speed in effect. "Everyone, on me!"

"Bubbles, leave that doll behind!" Blossom said to her baby blue sister when she finally noticed what was in her hands.

"But… But…" Bubbles blubbered, afraid to let go of Octi - it was always there for her, whether the day had ended terribly or not.

"Do you want him to get shot or blown up, Bubbles?" Buttercup added persuasively. It'd gotten Bubbles going. Speeding up next to their Lamborghini, she carefully and lovingly leaned Octi against the backseat, promising it that she would be back soon.

The Girls caught up to their escorts within a second, with their super-speed.

Together, they piled towards a door. A man in plainclothes stood guard there, apparently unarmed, but he was holding a hand behind him, hiding something. Blossom took the initiative to stare through him with her X-ray vision, and saw that he was hiding a pistol on his back.

"Dark," the man said to Blake, looking like he was expecting something.

"Heart," Blake replied. It was a password.

"Come on in," the guard said. The soldiers filed through the door, followed by the Girls. They soon found themselves in a warehouse office, with men and women standing around a pool table, a map between them. Three of them were recognizable. Chief of Security Blackwater, Detective Mullens and Officer Olivia. There was another woman of the USDO, in SWAT gear. A few guards stood around the room, all of the USDO eagle and shield.

"-Say we go in hard and fast, catch them by surprise with superior numbers," Chief of Security Blackwater barked his tactical suggestion.

"This is not a war with conventional forces or whatever it is you're used to, big man. If you go in there looking to start world war three, they'll just scatter - I know the man in charge. He's got all sorts of tricks up his sleeves, and before we know it-" Detective Mullens was saying before he looked up and saw who arrived. The Three of Project Powerpuff, and their escorts.

"Finally," Blackwater remarked derisively as Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were led by Agent Blake to the table. The Blossom and Bubbles was intimidated by the assembly, though the glint off their combat goggles had covered their expression slightly. Buttercup, on the other hand, clutched the edge of the pool table, looking at the map, which had little model soldiers of different colors on them. To her, it was something fun.

"It's decided, Blackwater," Mullens said on the side, as he took a glance at the Girls, vaguely and barely acknowledging their presence as he was too busy crossing swords with his supposed allies. "It's my operation, my call. We creep up on them real quiet, come up to them in all directions carefully. As for the Girls-"

"As for the Girls!" Blackwater barked, emphasizing his presence and authority over the Girls. Bubbles shook at the boom of his voice. "The three of you listen up! There's a warehouse full of gang members protecting stuff. Since you sissies couldn't handle things by yourself, Sergeant Blake and Detective Mullens here will take you to the warehouse. Once there, you'll sneak in, try to take as many of them out quietly. Do not let them know that you're in there with them. Don't alert them. But if you do, go loud with your guns, slaughter them, and then I'll deal with you three later."

"Blossom, there's a man inside you need to pay special attention to," Detective Mullens took the briefing. Blossom turned to him. "Short guy, always wears a black French beret - a funny hat that looks a little like a potato." He flashed a polaroid picture of the man, then gestured for Blossom to take it. She did, looking closely at the picture.

"He's in his late 20s, a bit of a shorty," the Detective added. "They call him Junior, but don't let that name fool you. He's more than just a lil' scrappy."

"Gotcha," Blossom said, forced a smile on her face, hoping that the detective would smile back. He didn't. She let go of the smile.

"I want him alive, you hear me? Don't get the leader killed like the last time," the detective emphasized. "I'm looking at you, Buttercup." He stuck his eyes, stern and wide, on the green-uniformed girl.

"Okay, okay…" Buttercup submitted.

"Here, I've got a few more extra things for you three," Sergeant Blake said, as he handed headsets with microphones to them, so that they could communicate over the radio silently during the mission.

Townsville Industrial Park. Mission Time - 46 minutes.

Progress was slow as the Girls, and their massive escort of some eight USDO soldiers and two police officers, had to cross an entire city block of warehouses, all the while doing it under the cover of darkness - which meant sneaking through alleys. Their already slow pace was made slower by the fact that they had to treat everyone they encounter on the way as a potential spy for the Lombardi mafia, and had to sneak past them as well. It meant detours, as the alleyways that were breeding grounds not just of rats and cockroaches, but also low-lives, the human rats and cockroaches that'd been plaguing the city since time immemorial.

The USDO soldiers, under agent Blake's direction, were more than adequate for the task. Using subsonic rounds in suppressed guns, they were able to take out streetlamps and other light sources with precision, quietly. Knowing that The Three of Project Powerpuff were averse to hurting people under Blossom's leadership, they were able to avoid it, chiefly to keep the Girls calm while they were still on the way to the mission site. Without knowing it, Blossom had saved lots of people lots of trouble and headaches and bruises with that attitude, as civilians with unclear loyalties, who may or may not be involved, were skirted around entirely, rather than being cornered and knocked out, mob or not.

The squad stopped by the fence of the target warehouse, hiding among trees and bushes. In the distance beyond the fence, Lombardi mobsters could already be spotted, patrolling.

"This is it, Girls," Selicia, their designated mother, whispered. "Make me proud, alright?"

"Yes, mom," Buttercup said lovingly. Naturally, she was next to her.

"Tear down the fence quietly. Bubbles?" Sergeant Blake ordered one of the three, and chose Bubbles because she was closest. Timidly, Bubbles hooked onto the fence with her fingers and pulled, tearing the wire netting of the fence, making a hole effortlessly despite her lack of confidence. Lots of eyes were on her when she did this - the Girls were still a novelty at this point, and it was unbelievable what even the weakest of The Three could do so effortlessly.

Detective Mullens got up next to them. "Remember - do it quiet-like, or they'll just scatter and run for it. Should be easier than before."

"We'll be right behind you, Girls. Don't be scared now," Selicia added, trying to be supportive, not just to Buttercup but to Blossom and Bubbles - those two would have a huge impact on Buttercup's welfare during the mission.

"There's about forty of them in there, but if you could take them down quietly, it shouldn't be a problem - remember your training," Agent Blake added. Blossom nodded her head, anaemic. This was it, and when the time had come to dispense justice once more, she felt sick to the stomach, always afraid that she couldn't live up to expectations - how they'd all fawned over her and repeatedly told her how smart she was.

Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage. Mission Time - 1 hour 4 minutes.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup were able to sneak past the guards on the outside with ease. With the abundance of trucks and eighteen wheelers and cargo containers, finding something to hide behind wasn't a feat. Combined with their super-speed, even last minute reactions could easily guarantee staying out of sight.

They made their way through the parking lot, Blossom determined to make things right with the world and the others' impression of her, Bubbles wanting it to be over painlessly and nicely and Buttercup ready to test the new skills she'd been developing over the days, ready to draw blood and break bones - and if Blossom wasn't looking, kill.

They hid behind a truck closest to the building, crouching low to reduce their already tiny profile, but they had to stop. The way inside was unclear; there were many entrances into the warehouse.

"What now?" Buttercup questioned her 'leader', impatient right from the start.

"Let me see," Blossom said, trying not to let her wayward sister bother her. She concentrated hard on the building. Her pupils contracted, and soon, she could see through the walls of the warehouse, and clearly too, since she had 'zoomed in' with her vision at the same time.

Inside were rows upon rows of shelves that reached up high to the ceiling, and the ceiling was at least two storey high. It was less crowded inside than Blossom had imagined. Forty seemed like a big number to the month-old, but the sheer area of the warehouse had drowned that number out. A small number were outside, and they would be the fortunate ones as Blossom had decided to take out the majority of them inside. Inside, most of them were concentrated around the front, either sitting down around tables, playing some sort of card games or chatting, or they were inside some of the rooms, eating or sleeping. A few of them were talking in the foreman's office, not that she knew what it was called. She had just decided on the name 'front room'. A few were guarding the periphery, patrolling the corridors made by the warehouse-sized industrial shelves, or just standing around.

The warehouse was poorly guarded, the result of years of Lombardi success and arrogance.

"We're going to the back," Blossom decided. The coast was clear; the pair of mobsters patrolling the outside had gone round the corner, and there was no one else. They sped to the back, slowing down as they reached the right door to avoid making too much noise, reaching it within the space of a minute. Blossom had decided to choose a regular door as the entrance, over the loading bay doors, some of which were half open. The door was blocked from view by a shelf. The only deterrence, or the lack of it, was a young gangster in a blazer, a hand holding a MAC-10 machine-pistol, smoking a cigarette with his back facing the door.

"Follow me…" Blossom whispered to her sisters. Bubbles was terrified to the point of shaking visibly, while Buttercup was so psyched up that she had twitching in one of her eyes and could only just barely stifle a sadistic giggle. Silently, she tried the door. Unlocked. She pulled it open gently, before sneaking in with her sisters. The gangster did not notice, not even as Blossom crept up towards him.

A wind blew; a common occurrence in winter. It was louder with the door open. The man turned around, a hand still holding onto a cigarette between two fingers as he blew smoke out of his nostrils like a dragon. The door was slammed shut by a particularly strong gust of wind. But something else had his attention.

A diminutive person, standing at not even half his height, decked out in miniature SWAT gear, grenades hanging on her vest, SMG gripped in one hand and slung on her shoulder. Her eyes, those pink eyes that glowed so visibly in the half-dark, looking almost demonic, which spooked him out. It wasn't exactly a sight he had expected, nor seen before.

"W-w-w-wh-," the mobster struggled to form even one syllable as Blossom stared him down eye-to-eye, equally shocked as she had been discovered, but before he could even complete his word or fire his Uzi, Buttercup had jumped up behind him and punched him across the base of his skull. He fell immediately, and Bubbles caught him before he could hit the floor.

"Nice of you to catch him, Bubbles," Blossom whispered her praise, before moving to help her with the unconscious bad guy.

"I just didn't want him to get hurt…" Bubbles said.

"Too late for that," Buttercup said mischievously with a smile on her face as she examined her handiwork. But it wasn't enough. She wanted to really hurt someone. To spill blood, rip and tear at flesh, just like what she did with the cat and the dog, just like what she'd done in the washroom.

"Put him down on the floor." Blossom said as she looked around for a place to hide him, and found the perfect spot; underneath the lowest 'floor' of the towering shelves. Quickly, with Bubbles' help, they stuffed him in there.

"Well, what now?" Buttercup repeated her question. Blossom looked around, X-ray vision on. The mob guards patrolling around the warehouse had gone back to the front. To charge at them would mean breaking their cover. 'Think, think, Blossom!' the smart one thought, her eyes flitting up as her mind returned to training day, which included a quick course on stealth.

That was when she saw her solution.

"Buttercup, stay down here and stay hidden," Blossom ordered in a low mumble. "Bubbles, we're climbing up the shelves."

"Aren't you going to tell me what you're planning?" Buttercup protested, her voice louder, earning her a shush from Blossom.

"I'll tell you what to do over the radio," Blossom simply said, before taking Bubbles by the hand to find the best way up the warehouse shelves. Buttercup felt left out, and it made her angrier, all the more eager to take the leadership position from her dear sister as soon as possible.

At the end of the shelves were bars forming Xes, acting as a support structure holding the shelves together. They were ideal as ladders. Blossom took it up, with Bubbles behind her. Above, Blossom had a bird's eye view of the place, and could see it from a whole new angle - the shelves formed a path above the warehouse aisles and work area, with some shelves in the middle that could be accessed by jumping the gap. It was perfect for an ambush, just like the game she played in the abandoned mall with the friendly soldiers, or the hide-and-seek game Selicia had them play as an introduction to stealth.

Blossom made that jump, landing softly and lightly like a bird touching down on the top level of the shelf. Bubbles followed up behind her - had she been a normal little girl, her fear of heights would have been much worst, but the lack of consequences for falling had largely negated it.

Blossom pressed a button on her radio.

"Buttercup, can you hear me?" she whispered into her mic.

"What is it now?" Buttercup asked over the radio, disgruntled.

"I need you to make some noise. Like knock something big over," Blossom ordered.

"Okay…" Buttercup agreed reluctantly. Searching the shelves near her, she saw a box bigger than any other, one that looked like it could hold the TV in The House. She gave it a push, gentle by her standards, but the box was easily knocked cleanly off the shelf. It dropped and hit the floor with what sounded like a hundred little metal things rattling inside, and spilling out from the poorly-sealed top. What looked like metal hypodermic needles and syringes poured out of the box. "What was that for?"

"Hide," Blossom simply said, refusing to explain. Buttercup, despite being fuming mad, did as she was told - no sense in repeating the drama that had put her in a disadvantage when it came to her father, at least not until she'd taken over Blossom's position in their trio. And then she'd really get to do what she wanted. She imagined making Blossom kneel down before her with a demented smile, just like how some beggars she'd seen on the streets would kneel down before a penny benefactor.

More bad guys were streaming out of the rooms to the front, something like six of them. Two were women, looking equally as harsh.

"Oi, Tony, that you?" one of the men shouted. Two guards from the edges of the warehouse joined them.

"What's going on?" one of the guards asked.

"I thought I heard something," the same man who shouted said.

Together as eight, they approached the warehouse shelves, unaware that two SWAT-geared little girls were crouching high above them, waiting.

"B-Blossom… I don't think I can do this…" Bubbles whispered over the radio. Blossom looked over at Bubbles, who was two shelves over. If they dropped down, they would be isolated from each other, at least for a little while. It was more of a psychological effect than anything else.

"Bubbles, you have to!" Blossom whispered into her mic, eyes stuck on her, begging. "These bad people will hurt others if we don't stop them. What if they hurt Dad?" Bubbles returned her pink sister's gaze, and nodded curtly, her face still betraying the fact that she was very scared. "Sisters, wait for my signal."

"Tony! It better not be one of them pranks, man! It's not good for you to do such things on such a night man! One of the Amoeba Boys is here for inspection!" the man shouted again. They were coming closer, and they had their weapons out. Half of them had guns; pistols, shotguns, SMGs. There were some who didn't look like they belong to the suave, smooth-talking gangster group, and it was clear right down to their clothes; beanies, baseball caps. Worn-out cotton jackets and shirts. Jeans, slightly torn. They were workers, indentured servants of the poor house who now worked for the Lombardi mafiaso. With their lives in the hands of the Amoeba Boys, paid for by gang money and put in as a deposit as a safeguard against disobedience, they were essentially gangsters without the money, status and protection. They carried no weapons saved for whatever they could find lying around - rebars and spanners and crowbars.

The shouter gestured for half of the eight to take another aisle. Everything was perfectly going according to plan - one half was coming beneath Blossom, the other Bubbles. Buttercup could back them up.

"Tony! Answer me!" the shouter bellowed.

"Look at that!" one of the indentured workers pointed to the knocked-over box, with all the metal syringes fallen out. "Someone knocked over the drugs. Ain't no rat, that's for sure."

"You better not be doping yourself on the job, Tony," the leader of the ragged group warned.

It was time; the mobsters had just walked past Blossom.

"Now, Bubbles," Blossom whispered into her mic. With that, she leaped down, her red hair flowing above her from under her helmet, aiming for the worker with a lead pipe at the back. She landed right on top of him, taking him down, but it wasn't entirely silent.

"Hmm?" the shouter grunted as he turned around, unable to bring his AK-47 to bear on Blossom as he was crowded in with his colleagues. Blossom jumped, giving him an upper-cut, sending him flying off his feet and then down on his back, but most importantly, unable to react. Another worker with a crowbar was faster, taking a swing at Blossom, thumping her across the back, doing nothing but still causing pain.

Bubbles had done the same thing, except her dive down ended with her sitting on top of an unconscious gangster, whose fedora fluttered away, right next to a worker with an iron rebar, who, too surprised to see the unlikely sight of a little girl dressed like some kind of a next-generation copper, stood petrified.

"What's going on behind there?" the gangster woman leading Bubbles' target group turned around, waving a pistol. In the heat of battle, Bubbles did not know what her next move was.

The indentured worker with a crowbar took another swing at Blossom, but she managed to seize the crowbar mid-strike. The worker tried to rip it out of her grasp. He couldn't. Blossom gave him a quick jump-kick to the stomach, sending him bowling into more boxes of metal-syringe drugs. Blossom's last target, a woman with an MP5K and a knife-cut-scar on her cheek, turned around. Blossom was quick to apply one of the more advanced moves Selicia had taught her: jumping up, wrapping herself around the gangster's gun arm, dragging her down with the weight of her body before ripping the weapon away from her. While they were both on the ground, she delivered a horse kick at the bad guy's face, knocking her out. No blood was drawn, except for two snake-like streams coming out of the nostrils of her broken nose.

Buttercup flew into action, speeding towards Bubbles, who had frozen in combat.

"What in the flying-" one of Bubbles' targets swore, having turned around, but was intercepted by Buttercup mid-sentence, who had delivered a flying elbow to his back. She and the gangster fell on top of Bubbles in a heap. Jumping to her feet, she gave the other armed mobster no time as she jumped again, aiming a punch across his jaw, hearing bones breaking, seeing teeth flying. The last of Bubbles' target, armed with only a spanner, took a swing at Buttercup, but Bubbles couldn't let her sister get hurt, and rushed into action, caring little for technique. The timid girl found herself wrapped around the worker's legs, who fell because he couldn't maintain his balance, hitting his head on the floor. Buttercup polished him off with a stomp to the head - not killing him of course, because the almighty Blossom said not to.

Nine down, thirty-one more to go.

Chapter Text

A/N: (24 SEP 2019) Extended the fight scene between Blossom and Junior to account for her shattered combat goggles.

Chapter 49: Hide and Seek (Part 3)

Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage. Mission Time - 1 hr 15 mins

"Bubbles, Buttercup," Blossom said into her mic, sounding a little like a little girl who was going to get caught doing something really bad. "Hide the bad guys, quickly! They're going to see!"

Looking around, Blossom searched the area high and low for hiding spots. Some of the crooks she took down were too large to fit under the floorings of the shelves. Bubbles and Buttercup faced a similar problem. At last, Blossom found an empty box. Pulling it out, she lifted one of the workers, cradling him in her arms and could barely do it because of her small size, and gently laid him inside the box.

"Nighty-night, Mister Baddy," she tucked the indentured worker into the box, not forgetting the crowbar he'd struck her with, throwing it in with him. She returned the box to the shelf, then went on to push the gangster girl under a shelf. She threw the other worker, who was small and wiry, into a smaller box with his weapon, but it was too small, which meant that his legs were sticking out slightly, but it would have to do. As for the mob enforcer with the AK-47, the shouter, Blossom had no choice but to drag him to the back of the warehouse, into the darkness.

She looked around at Bubbles and Buttercup. They weren't doing a good job. Bubbles had sat one of the gangsters down on one of the shelves, hoping that he'd pass off as cargo, another was put in a box far too small, and the unconscious woman gangster was mostly sticking out of a box. Buttercup had contorted one of the workers into a box which was a size or two too small for him, and had to knock the worker out a second time as he'd wakened from the pain. The most rebellious of the three was in the process of trying to hang the fourth Lombardi worker at the top of the warehouse shelf, where he would likely be seen within a millisecond, when Blossom stopped her.

"Guys! What's the hold-up!?" came another voice from the front. "I'm on a winning streak here! You trying to skip out on my dough or what!?"

"Oh no!" Blossom gasped, panicking. There were footsteps, at first a single set, then it became two, and three, multiplying quickly. "Hide!" Turning around, she pushed for her sisters to hide behind some shelves off-centre from an aisle opening to the front.

"Agent Blake to Blossom," Blossom's radio came alive, Blake's voice asking in her ear. "How are you doing, sweetheart? Over."

"There's more of them," Blossom said vaguely into her mic, too panicked to give a full report. She waved for Bubbles and Buttercup to get down as she did the same.

"Guys!? Did you guys go to a pizza house or what!?" the unseen gangster shouted. "Hey Jonesy, Marco, something ain't right here! Get the others!"

Blossom squeezed her eyes into a slit once more, willing them to see through the shelves she was hiding behind. The unseen gangster was thus visible. A stereotypical classic type, well dressed and covered in a trenchcoat and fedora. The only relatively modern thing about him was the AR-15 in his hands - he was well-prepared, likely experienced. Men were coming up behind him. Four. Then six. Then ten.

"What do we do…?" Bubbles cried softly.

"I say we get them now!" Buttercup suggested forcefully, just barely keeping her voice down as a whisper. She was about to get up when Blossom forced her back down. "Ouch!"

"Shh!" Blossom hushed them. "Just wait."

It was tougher this time. With the gangster keeping watch, they couldn't climb up the shelves using the support beams that acted as ladders, and with the way Bubbles and Buttercup had botched the job hiding the downed felons, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. They still had one unconscious Lombardi worker still with them, and as they were hiding, he moaned, awakening. Blossom punched him back to sleep.

When Classic Gangster was joined by his men, the group started surging forward, all ten of them, and all of them looking meaner than the last group. They were all armed with guns of all kinds. They trod on the same path as Blossom's targets, but as one big group. Blossom retreated towards the middle of the shelf separating gangster from girls.

Buttercup unslung her MP5, getting ready to cock it. Blossom mouthed for her to stop, grabbing her gun and pushing it down. Buttercup argued, shouting defiance without a sound, but she eventually relented. Bubbles had both her hands on her mouth, which threatened to give away their position.

There was no other way. They had to attack sooner, or later. Already, Classic Gangster had noticed something poking out from under the shelf. The handle of an SMG.

Blossom pointed a finger towards the other side of the shelf, mouthing for Bubbles and Buttercup to go. She went with them, and when she thought they were far enough, gave them their instructions quickly and at as low a volume as possible. "I'm going to attack them from the front. Buttercup, tag them from the back. Bubbles, climb up from here and jump down on them." A three-pronged attack, just like in training.

"Jonesy, Marco, watch our back. Something's going on here," the Classic Gangster ordered as he pulled the MP5k Blossom had tried to hide with the gangster girl. It caught on something. 'No, no, no,' Blossom thought, alarmed. Buttercup was going to have a harder time with some of them looking behind the group. Her stealth strategy was falling to pieces, and it could only get worse from there. Their element of surprise was quickly expiring. Memories of Blackwater chastising her severely, and of Mom calling her a bad leader came flooding back at such a critical moment.

Bubbles was having difficulty climbing the shelves - without using the support beams, there were far fewer places to put her hands and feet into, even if she was small.

"Spread out, cover a wider area," the Classic Gangster ordered. His underlings spread out accordingly, some going with him towards the back of the warehouse, others circling around to Blossom and Buttercup's aisle. It was now or never.

Despite the difficulty of the climb, Bubbles was nearly at the summit. It helped to have super-strength; a hundred pounds of gear was still nothing next to a three thousand pound car. Near to the top, Bubbles reached for the top shelf, grabbing onto it, pulling herself up.

And she could feel herself slipping on that final leg of the journey; it was especially dusty there. She gasped, clinching the shelf harder to stop the slip from going any further.

That was when her MP5 submachinegun had slipped from her shoulder. Blossom stared in horror at her. Reaching back, Bubbles made a grab for her falling weapon, and was able to secure it by the sling - but that had only been one link in a chain of events. The SMG swung like a pendulum towards the shelves, banging against it with a plastic and metallic thud.

"There's someone here!" one of the mobsters shouted in realization.

Blossom ran towards her targets, pushing her plan forward early; it was the only way to salvage it. Buttercup did the same, but by the time they'd gone into action, nearly all the cards favoring the Girls were gone. The gangsters were spread apart, watching every direction, well aware that something was afoot.

Still, Blossom was able to launch herself in a flying kick at her first target, her super-speed precluding retaliation from her enemies. Her first target, another well-dressed gangster, was horizontal after he took it to the chest.

"Hell's this!" the Classic Gangster yelled as he pointed his weapon instinctively down at Blossom, and so did a few others.

Buttercup had gone with a simple tackle on going in, taking down one of them, and as she straddled him, went with a double punch to the face, knocking him out. Weapons were pointed at her as she made her next move.

On reaching the top, Bubbles jumped, falling on top of another man, whose partner was far enough away that he noticed instantly. He pointed a shotgun at her. Bubbles stared down the barrel of the shotgun, which reminded her of what happened at the Townsville Central Bank. Weakness set in as she struggled inside.

Bam! The gangster fired the shotgun. But it wasn't the only firearm report. Tatatatatatat! Automatic fire supported by a choir of semi-automatic resounded throughout.

Blossom was able to grab at one of the pistols pointed at her, twisting it out of the owner's grasp, but everyone else had opened fire on her. There was a quick succession of shots. She could feel pain all around her as she waded against the current of lead towards her next target.

Buttercup suffered the same fate when she reacted as fast as she could, jumping up and spin-kicking another gangster. She took a few shots in mid-air, but it didn't ruin her form.

Bubbles wasn't shot - she had pushed the shotgun out of her way before it fired, to the owner's surprise. But Bubbles did feel faint - it felt as though she had been shot. Shaking from reliving her trauma, afraid that it would be repeated again, she wound up a quick punch and threw it, sending him flying a few yards, sliding another few. She'd punched the man in the face, and when he stopped moving, she saw blood. Lots of it. Pooling. The red was unpleasant; she could feel her own blood draining from her face, the fact of what she did sinking in quickly. She'd hurt someone, and badly. She might even have killed him.

She ran - over the fallen bad guys on Buttercup's side, she ran, disappearing into the warehouse.

"Bubbles! What're you doing!" Buttercup chided when she saw what she was doing. She had just punched out her third bad guy, before a fourth came up to her and unloaded his SMG point-blank at her.

On the other end of the battlefield, Classic Gangster was firing shots at Blossom when she got up to him and seized him by the rifle, tearing it out of his hands. Using it as a club, she swung it at him, but the experienced gangster was able to dodge it. The red-haired girl threw the rifle aside, and the gangster powered forward, sweeping his fist down at Blossom, catching her by the temple, but essentially doing nothing but cause a momentary, dull pain and annoying her. His other fist caught her by the cheek, doing just as much.

"What the hell are you!?" Classic Gangster shouted in disbelief on seeing that all his attacks, from rifle to fists, had done nothing.

"Justice!" Blossom responded with a second uppercut of the day, sending him flying into the air and landing on his back, like his colleague from before, leaving it up to Buttercup to end the skirmish.

The last mobster standing had been able to push Buttercup back, stumbling her with every few bullets, looking like he could win - but that was only until he had ran out of bullets. Buttercup smiled with the 'Click! Click! Click!' of his old German Wehrmacht MP40, before proceeding to grab him by a hand and deliver an upward blow to his elbow, cracking it loudly and bending it the wrong way. The last gangster screamed, falling backwards, clutching his broken and dislocated arm.

Buttercup was mad, out-of-control mad. Too many things had gone wrong. What had been easy and fun at first, with all the hide and seek action going on, had turned out to become a pain in the neck - literally, when dozens of bullets were fired upon her. Bubbles had ran away instead of helping. And it was all Blossom's fault that things had turned out so badly. If only she had been the leader!

Arming herself with her MP5, carrying it one-handed, she pointed it at the broken-armed gangster, who had backed himself against a shelf trying to crawl away. She stared intensely at him, truly wishing him dead, if only to make herself feel a little better. She walked up to him, pressing the muzzle of her SMG against his cheek, so hard that she was pinning his head against a leg of the shelf. Her gun arm shook, her trigger finger itchy. She was getting that tic in her face again, her cheek twitching as she hovered between listening to Blossom and wanting to do what she pleased.

"Please! No more!" the gangster pleaded. "Look at me! I'm done! I'll hurt no one no more! Don't!"

"Buttercup!" Blossom shouted, coming up to her, tried to pulled Buttercup's SMG away from the wounded man. Buttercup refused to budge, and her SMG stay pointed at him. "We're not supposed to kill! Daddy said so!"

"He's mine to kill! Mister Blackwater said we should!" Buttercup argued back.

"I'm listening to Dad, and so are you. Don't you love him?" Blossom reiterated, and on seeing that reason wasn't going to sway her sister towards the light, added: "I'll tell on you if you do it!"

"Blossom!" Buttercup uttered painfully, upset that such pleasure, so close, was being yanked away from her again. Killing small animals just didn't cut it, and neither did hurting bad guys. "Fine!" She put down her SMG.

"Thank you! Oh God- Thank you!" the gangster cried pitifully. Blossom responded by slapping him hard enough to knock him out.

"We have to go anyway. They're bound to have heard us," Blossom said. "Where's Bubbles?"

"Ran away like you did in the bank, Blossom," Buttercup sassed her sister, incredibly unhappy at her decision to block her from the kill. Blossom frowned at her, but could say nothing for lack of time. "Should we go find her?"

"There's no time! We have to fight the rest of them now or they'd run like Blackwater said!" Blossom explained again. Pulling at Buttercup, she ran towards the front. Buttercup followed reluctantly - there were so many baddies she could have potentially killed in their vulnerable state.

Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage. Mission Time - 1 hr 24 mins

Blossom and Buttercup charged towards the front, at a far slower speed than they're capable of because of the uncertainties of their actions. Blossom was convinced that she could do it without a single gunshot being fired only to be disappointed at herself, and Buttercup had no confidence in her leadership.

The foreman's office was in full view of Blossom and Buttercup. Inside, two important-looking persons had been chatting. Blossom recognized one of them. The short man in an opened jacket with a high collar over a vest and smart wear, with that French beret Detective Mullens highlighted. He was together with a mysterious-looking woman in a trench coat and fedora, which covered most of her. She had amber eyes which screamed danger and brunette hair that revealed too little. She had the pale skin of a ghost, like someone long dead but returned.

Around them, the remaining Lombardi forces, about twenty others, had gotten into position, firing on them from behind the cover of walls and furniture. Blossom and Buttercup could feel bullets bouncing off their helmets and digging through their uniforms with equal measure. They could even feel some of the larger bullets punching through their helmets and plates, the pain caused deeply unpleasant. But at least it wasn't like in the bank, when there were so much in a short time. Buttercup had actually felt nauseous and faint then, from the pain alone.

They hid behind a forklift. Blossom thought it looked a little like a car, which gave her an idea. "Buttercup, help me with this thing," she ordered her sister. With a heave, she managed to lift the forklift. It was so much lighter than the family sedan. Buttercup helped with the other end of it, understanding immediately what to do with it. Bullets were punching into the forklift, but not entirely through it. Some were ricocheting off.

"How are they even doin' that!?" one of the gangsters yelled in a panic as he continued firing pot shots at the forklift desperately.

"How are they even so small!?" another gangster added.

"Someone throw them an egg!" another man ordered. Blossom had been peeking over the foot area of the forklift cabin, and she saw that it was the short man who gave the order. Junior, Mullens called him. He was the leader. She had to catch him somehow, but he and the mysterious woman had entrenched themselves behind a metal table they'd flipped.

"An egg?" Buttercup wondered aloud, not getting the metaphor. "That's all they could think of?"

"Eat this!" one of the mobsters shouted as he popped above the window, winding his arm up. As if in a game of baseball, he threw something dark green and ovular at the Girls. It bounced on the seat of the forklift and over, landing behind the Girls.

"That was an egg?" Buttercup questioned.

"No time, keep going!" Blossom said. They continued walking forward, the forklift poorly balanced since they were carrying it from one side of it, but their strength made up for it.

The 'egg' exploded after that, taking them by surprise, throwing them forwards, their forklift dropped and flipped over. Shrapnel had dug into them from behind, shredding their gear and uniform, shredding their mind even if the metal shards did nothing to their body.

"Hah! Good throw! Hahaha!" Junior, praised, revelry in his voice, sounding like a little mischievous imp. "I knew having you on my baseball team was a good idea!"

"You think they're dead?" one of the gangsters said as he stood up, surveying the mess they'd made; the poured cement floor peppered with lead, the furniture and crates and cargo all messed up, the forklift that wouldn't be working anytime soon.

Blossom moaned, she was lying face-down on the floor, and she didn't want to move until the pain all over the back of her head, limbs and her back subsides. The force of the grenade explosion, and the shrapnel had propelled Buttercup forward enough for her to face-plant against the forklift, and she was clutching her face, rolling on the ground in pain.

When the tendrils of shock had finally released her, at least partly, Blossom got up, peeking over the overturned forklift. She had to pull herself up to get a view, as even when overturned, the forklift was still taller than her.

"Oh shit! Oh fuck! It- He- It's still alive!" one of the gangsters exclaimed. "How did they even survive that?"

"I think it's clear what you must do," a woman's voice said, almost inaudible, but Blossom's hearing was good enough. "It's time to show them what you really."

"That would be interesting, hehehe," Blossom could hear the other important-looking person, Junior, say. "Boys and gals, time for you to go. Remember that the Amoeba Boys protect!"

"Ooof…" Buttercup was still in pain when she sat up. "Any other bright ideas, Blossom?" She got up, and peeked around a corner of the forklift. The gangsters were filing out, running away. Blossom was still popping up from the forklift periodically, watching. She knew just as well. "Can we shoot them now?"

"No! We can't, Buttercup!" Blossom repeated her bottom line, but she had nothing else to suggest - she was the smart one, and she had ran out of ideas. There were too many of them, and running up to almost 20 fully-armed mobsters would only be a more severe repeat of the Townsville Central Bank incident.

"Then what do we do!" Buttercup demanded, and when Blossom could offer nothing again, she let out a scornful snort. She peeked out again, only for a number of shots to be directed at her, forcing her back into cover.

"Blake to Blossom, what's the sitrep, over?" Agent Blake, whose voice Blossom was glad to hear, returned in her earphone.

"Mister Blake, it's bad. Bubbles is gone-" Blossom reported.

"Pff, more like ran away," Buttercup added. Blake heard it loud and clear, as she had a mic too.

"And the bad guys are running away. I don't know what to do anymore," Blossom continued, on the verge of tears as she remembered what Blackwater's opinion of her was. 'Useless and stupid', he'd said, and she was proving him right again.

"Affirmative, Blossom," Agent Blake acknowledged. "Don't worry about it, we have people who'll catch them. Just… Hang in there, sweetie. We're coming in as soon as we arrest these two slippery bas- erm- guys. Is Junior running away with them?"

Blossom peeked out again. There were no shots whizzing towards her this time. The mobsters were all but gone, and so was the mysterious woman. But, surprisingly, Junior was still there, coming out of the 'front room'.

"Come out, come out, little men, it's time for a little dance!" Junior taunted when he was out of the door.

"He's still there!" Blossom whispered into her mic. This could be it. It could be her ticket to proving that she wasn't useless and stupid after all, that she could fight crime and deserve everyone's love.

"He's still there? Arrest him - keep him restrained until we get there. Can you do that, Blossom?" Agent Blake said.

"Yes," Blossom promised with renewed confidence. She turned to Buttercup after that, who was frowning at her, her green-glowing eyes staring into hers. It would have put her off had it not been the occasion of a lifetime, her chance to redeem herself. "Buttercup, we need to get out there and catch this crook. It should be easy - he's only one man."

"Great, we'll be right over. Over and out." Agent Blake signed off.

Wordlessly, they stepped out of their forklift cover, coming out from opposite ends, into full view of the man known as 'Junior'.

"There you are! Now ain't the two of you cute!" Junior taunted again. He didn't look like he was prepared to fight. His hands were in his pocket, and a toothpick was hanging in his mouth. "I didn't know you were little girls, too. Now how about the two of you walk away before you get a boo-boo?"

"We're not going anywhere," Buttercup proclaimed with gritted teeth, her gloved fists halfway up. This little man, whoever he was, was so arrogant to think that he alone could hand them some 'boo-boos' when half his crew were either snoring in the aisles or stuffed in boxes and shelves.

"Mister Junior, you're under arrest," Blossom said, her brows arched. The man wasn't the most pleasant of people - she didn't like the way he talked. "Please, sit down and wait for my friends-"

"I'm under arrest? Oh, I'm under arrest!" Junior taunted, mimicking their higher-pitched girly voices as he put his hands up next to his cheek. The act ended as quickly as his mood seemingly changed. "You're going to have to do more than say 'please'!" The short man shrugged off his jacket, revealing holsters underneath it. Two pistols were tucked neatly under his armpits.

"That's all you have?" Buttercup taunted back. But Junior was done talking, and he didn't reach for those pistols. Instead, he reached behind his back, pulling out a pair of machine-pistols, silver-plated Uzis, unloading them on the Girls without pause. Blossom and Buttercup retreated, jumping high up and vaulting over the forklift back into cover in short order, feeling pin-point accurate shots biting them in the back as they did. They were hurting more. His bullets were different, somehow. Unbeknownst to them, they were cop-killer rounds. Armor-piercing and expensive. While they weren't Powerpuff-killers, they'd hurt more.

"Been going to gymnastics class, little girls? That ain't gonna matter much!" Junior taunted again. Blossom could hear footsteps, flanking them.

"Can we shoot our guns now?" Buttercup asked again.

"Fine!" Blossom finally caved in. She had to bag this one, or she would never hear the end of it from her and Blackwater. She unslung her own submachinegun. Buttercup smiled viciously as she did the same. "But shoot him in the leg or something. Don't kill him, okay!?"

"Yeah, yeah," Buttercup said dismissively.

When Junior appeared out of Blossom's corner, Blossom had to quickly pull the bolt handle of her SMG. She could feel a shower of lead immediately, knocking her down from her crouched position. Buttercup fired back, full auto, and Junior leaped for some crates, dodging her bullets. Blossom sat up, and contributed some shots, hitting the crates Junior was hiding behind.

"The two of you are tougher than you look!" Junior said from behind his cover. Buttercup pumped the crate full of lead, hoping that the bullets would go through. Wood splintered, sending shards everywhere. "Showing some teeth, I see!" Buttercup was confounded. She was sure that she'd hit the man at least a few times, before and after he'd jumped for the crates.

Junior leaped out after that, machine-pistols blazing, stinging the Girls more. Blossom aimed and fired, and this time it was clear that it was a bull's eye ten time over, seeing holes appear on Junior's clothes, but doing nothing.

Junior, in the meantime, was firing back, his shots concentrated and on point. Unlike his 'boys and gals', he wasn't diving into cover like other human beings do this time. Blossom and Buttercup continued firing, putting more holes into his clothes, until their SMGs were out.

"It's not working!" Blossom said. She slung her SMG on her back once more. Buttercup, on the other hand, released the magazine from its catch, replacing it with a fresh one. "Buttercup, we have to use our hands!"

And it was the perfect time, too. Junior was out of ammunition as well for his twin Uzis. Blossom didn't wait. Charging in, she launched herself into a high flying kick - 'this had to be it,' she thought, only for her foot to glance off Junior as he sidestepped her attack a little.

"Woo-hoo! I love girls who get physical!" Junior said. Buttercup ran up to him at lightning speed, eager to join in the fray. "Let's tango!"

Buttercup ran up to Junior, taking a swing at him. He slapped her fist away harmlessly. Blossom got down to a spinning crouch-kick, hoping to sweep Junior of his feet, but her move was anticipated, and Junior jumped the kick, landing on one foot then the next. Buttercup pulled a punch with her other fist, hitting him straight-on in the stomach, which stumbled Junior back. The green-eyed girl thought he seemed softer than usual.

But it did nothing more than that.

"You're… You're like us?" Buttercup stuttered, thinking it unbelievable that she and her sisters weren't special.

"No, I'm better," Junior said with a smile, before surging forward and giving Buttercup a low-kick to the face. It'd hurt far too much to be a normal kick, and it'd sent Buttercup skidding on the floor a few fair yards. Blossom, at the side, aimed a hard kick to the back of his knee, hoping to get him down. He didn't fall. Instead, he turned around. Blossom followed it up with an uppercut, but Junior simply leaned back, letting Blossom fly up the air harmlessly, before delivering a headbutt at her on the way down, knocking her against a shelf, the force stunning her momentarily.

He was different, that much she knew. And very skilled at fighting unarmed. The Girls, having never fought anyone who could take more than a single punch or kick from them, wasn't prepared for this.

Taking advantage of Blossom's lapse in concentration, Junior grabbed Blossom by the collars and threw her against the shelf once more, sending boxes at multiple levels to fall, metal syringes clattering on the floor. He repeated the move, and this time, with so much force that the shelf fell over, bringing down the shelves behind it in a domino effect.

Buttercup came up behind Junior, but he'd heard her coming, and as she jumped and flew towards him with a flying punch, Junior countered the move with an elbow, intercepting her mid-air - she flew past him, clutching her cheek, tumbling on the floor.

Coming forward with his fists up as if in a boxing match, he dodged Blossom's punch deftly, before delivering a one-two punch, first catching her by the side of her helmet, then hitting her in the mouth straight. When Blossom screamed in pain, she'd done so with red teeth. She tried to reverse her fortunes with a fully-winded haymaker, but she hadn't fully understood the art of deception in a duel. Junior was able to fade away, letting the punch sail by harmlessly, letting Blossom lose her balance, before kicking her down. When she tried to get up, she was met with a straight punch to the goggles, which shattered it through sheer, enhanced force.

Blossom had closed her eyes when her goggles were shattered, but she couldn't prevent glass shards from going in. And now she couldn't open her eyes due to the pain. Terrified, she started flinging her fists all over the place, following the sound of Junior's laughter, but she was never able to connect fist with flesh. Conversely, Junior was able to land blows on her with ease, knocking her down, before taking her by the collar again. He pinned her against the fallen shelf, which was at a diagonal angle, leaning against another fallen shelf. She retched from the increasing level of pain, struggled against his iron grip. He undid her helmet quickly and pulled it off, recognizing the clip that held it together, and punched her across the face, multiple times, until he had given Blossom another combat wound - a black eye. Content, he slammed Blossom head-first against the ground hard. She wasn't moving after that. He could hear metal clacking behind him.

Buttercup was crouching on a knee, and had finished reloading her SMG, and pointed it at Junior, the range: point blank. Junior turned around. Buttercup didn't wait any longer, and fired it, full auto, into his chest. The gang boss didn't seem afraid. She fired her gun, until it was smoking hot and empty…

And all she'd done was to ruin his vest and shirt.

Shifting her gun around, Buttercup held it by the barrel and swung it at Junior's hip. The makeshift club thumped him there hard, but the blow did nothing. But Buttercup had noticed something - Junior was really soft. Soft, as in it was as if his mass gets pushed around quite a bit, like jelly, more so than a normal human being.

Junior seized Buttercup's SMG, and twisted it out of her hands, at the same time giving her a quick kick, stumbling her back. Raising the empty MP5 over his head, he brought it down on Buttercup, striking her over the dome.

"Hrng!" Buttercup gasped, but she refused to go down. Trying to recover as fast as she could, she lifted her head and a fist, only to receive another blow from Junior with her own SMG, sideways. It went downhill from there, as Junior swung the gun at her face in the other direction, before winding it up and breaking the gun over her head, sending plastic shards all around them when she went down.

Buttercup felt her vision blur after that, and a foot rolling her over on her back. Junior stood over her, then bent down to remove her helmet. He caressed her cheek. Buttercup blinked twice, unable to understand his odd gesture.

"You've got spirit, kid, I'll give you that," Junior said, his voice distorted by Buttercup's rapidly diminishing senses. "Too bad you didn't take my advice. I would have left you alone if you'd run - the Family's got rules, you see. We don't hit ladies and children. That is, unless they hit us. And now you're going to pay for my shirt! It's my best shirt, my favorite - I wear it on my most important duties!"

Standing up again, he raised a foot and brought it down on her face, Once, twice, three times.

That was when there was the sound of doors busting open.

"Hey!" someone shouted. "Freeze! USDO!"

There were gunshots after that. Junior was scarce in an instant.

Buttercup could barely breathe. She could feel something liquid flowing down her forehead, in her nose. She coughed, and rolled her head sideways, and it allowed her to breathe as the liquid dripped to the floor.

"But-cup!? Oh- God- -ter-! -on!" Buttercup could hear a woman's voice, but her consciousness was fading fast. She could feel arms wrapping around her.

Darkness overtook her after that.

Chapter Text

A/N: There will be a change to Chapter 49: Hide and Seek (Part 3), ETA 12 hours, to account for Blossom's shattered goggles. Due to my work schedule, I'm unable to make the change immediately without delaying the release of this chapter.

Chapter 50: Aftermath

The City of Townsville. Townsville Industrial Park. Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage.

16 DEC 1988 (Friday). 2304.

Selicia and Blake flanked one of the warehouse doors, leading up the rest of the Powerpuff Task Force squad. Detective Mullens and Officer Olivia had been left behind to guard the mobsters they had arrested after a fierce firefight. They could hear an intense struggle inside, things getting knocked over, muffled voices, then silence.

"Do you think they're alright?" Selicia asked Blake from across the door.

"They're bulletproof, right? Nothing can possibly hurt them," Blake surmised. "On three."

They busted the door open for a quick entry. A grisly sight greeted them. A singular mobster standing over two of The Three - Blossom and Buttercup. Bubbles was nowhere to be found.

"Hey!" Agent Blake shouted. "Freeze! USDO!"

'How is it even possible?' Blake thought as he raised his XM4 Carbine. And it looked like the Girls were beaten in unarmed combat too. Even from afar, the impact wounds were painfully obvious.

Selicia raised her own rifle. They fired a few rounds, but Junior, said to be one of the triad of bosses who owned the Lombardi Mafiaso, was quick to run away, instead of sticking around to gloat about whatever secret he'd used to beat what were otherwise indestructible Girls into submission. They weren't even sure if they were able to hit him.

Selicia's eyes were on Buttercup. Blood was pooling beneath her head, meaning that she had sustained some sort of head injury. It wasn't much, but just seeing blood coming out of her alone was cause for alarm - considering that it was supposed to be impossible to open a blood vessel in her… at least before Junior. Her SMG, with the stock broken and gnarled, lay nearby - it was likely the weapon Junior had used to bludgeon her into the ground. She ran up to Buttercup, throwing caution to the wind. "Buttercup!"

"Oh God! Buttercup!" Selicia screamed as she got up to her darling.

"Selicia, wait!" Agent Blake shouted after her, failing to gain her attention. He gestured for his men to fan out. He could see some movement in the shelves, likely men the Girls had knocked out, but were beginning to come to. It was just like Blossom to avoid killing - bless her soul.

When Selicia got up to Buttercup, she could see that she was barely conscious. Blood was oozing out of her nostrils, mouth and… Somewhere else, probably the back of her head. A huge, unsightly bruise had formed on her right cheek. "Buttercup! Hang on!" She got down, picking her up. The tomboy mouthed something, but was unable to make a sound. Selicia could make it out. Had she been able to vocalize, she would be calling out to her, begging for her to take away the pain. 'Mom-' she'd mouthed.

"Shhh… It's okay, shh… Mommy's here now, shh…" Selicia cooed at the fallen girl. She held her closer, resting her head against the crook of her elbow as she tried to undo the super-powered little girl's vest, checking for other wounds. Blood stained her arm. "Medic! I need a medic, ASAP!"

"Buttercup, look at me," Selicia said to Buttercup. The girl did not respond, and her eyes were staring into the ceiling. Briefly, they regarded her's. She tried to say something, but she was too weak and hurt to. "It's going to be fine. You're safe now. Shh… It's over."

Agent Blake was next to get up to the Girls. With Buttercup looked after, he went up next to Blossom, who looked like she'd been in a cage fight gone wrong. One of her eyes was swollen, black-and-blue. On top of that, her goggles were shattered, just like Bubbles' at the bank, which meant that glass shards could be in Blossom's eyes. Blood was streaming off her forehead and her teeth were colored red with blood, though the damage wasn't as bad as what Buttercup suffered. Blake put a finger on Blossom's neck. The pulse was still strong. She'd only been KO'ed. He was actually worried for a second there. Getting down, he began stripping Blossom of her gear as well, to check for other wounds.

"Buttercup…" Selicia repeated her favorite's name. She wasn't even sure if the girl was even aware of her or the warehouse anymore, but she didn't have to wonder for long as Buttercup went limp. Frantically, Selicia hovered a hand over her nose.

There was still breathing. Good. She was still alive, just finally out, which might be a good thing - her wounds looked painful.

Private Zach, the same medic who'd been the first to respond to Professor Utonium, came up to them. "Never thought I'd see the day," he muttered as he knelt down beside Buttercup first, who he could tell at a glance was worse off. "Well, let's take a look."

"Corporal Rutherland, Bubbles is missing. Search for her, let the rest handle the arrests, over," Agent Blake ordered over the radio.

"I copy, sir. Over and out," Corporal Rutherland, the Vietnam veteran, acknowledged. For a while, he walked the periphery, but it didn't take him long to hear the sound of weeping and sniffling coming from underneath one of the fallen shelves.

It was dark inside the fallen shelves. Boxes and crates and lab equipment had formed an unstable roof over it. Corporal Rutherland put aside his rifle and crawled in. It reminded him of a time when he'd doubled as a tunnel rat in the Vietnam War.

"Bubbles?" Rutherland called out. No answer but more weeping and sniffles. He crawled deeper into the shelves. "Bubbles, it's me! Mister Ruthy!"

"Go away!" a high-pitched voice cried, clearly shaken and tearful. Rutherland did not oblige, knowing full well what could happen if one of the Girls were to go out of control. He pulled his flashlight out and clicked it into luminescence. But even without it, he knew where Bubbles was. Her baby blue eyes were glowing in the dark, sometimes closed, sometimes opened as she cried, red around the white. Had this been a month ago, he would have been taken aback by the glowing eyes in the dark, but now, he could empathize with it.

Without saying another word, he crawled up to Bubbles. She had found herself a little cave in the fallen shelves, perfect for hiding out and staying out of sight, out of shame. It was big enough for him to sit up next to her.

"Hello, Bubbles," Corporal Rutherland said, unsure of how to start the conversation. He wasn't very good with children to begin with, even his own back when they were kids – but this Bubbles was special, aside from the fact that she'd rescued him, somehow, from a slow death by spiralling depression where more qualified experts couldn't. But how would you even begin to comfort what was essentially a child soldier, knowing fully well that she'd be sent back into battle over and over again? "What happened? Why are you so sad?"

"I hurt someone bad," Bubbles whimpered. She could still see it all as if it was a video loop right in front of her. The gangster's neck snapping back, the blood spraying and spreading on the floor. "I was scared and I hurt someone bad. I think I killed him – and Daddy said killing is wrong and I killed him-"

A KIA in the warehouse? He hadn't seen any corpses yet, but it was possible that some of the unconscious might turn out to be stiffs. Come to think of it, he might have seen a number of mobsters who might have taken some serious wounds. Bubbles might have seen blood and jumped to conclusions.

"You don't know that," Corporal Rutherland said.

"You weren't there!" Bubbles screamed, as if she was in pain.

"Look, even if you'd killed someone, you didn't mean it – he was trying to hurt you, right? And you were in the right for attacking him – he's a bad guy, hurting innocent people," Corporal Rutherland reasoned. It didn't help. Bubbles kept sobbing, and it wasn't hard to imagine why – children were more emotional creatures than logical. Reluctantly, he put an arm around the girl, pressing himself close up to her. Despite the rapport they'd developed in their three days together, he was still afraid that she might go into 'Tantrum' as their lingo went, or that she might not accept him in such a critical moment.

"Remember that time when we drew together? You said that there's always a time for forgiveness? You taught me that, so I'm giving it back to you now. He'll forgive you… eventually, and I'm sure you've already forgiven him for shooting you, right?"

"Yes…" Bubbles finally stopped bleeding tears to say.

"See? Things are going to get better from now on. Why don't you come on out? We'll go see... Whoever it was who shot you."

Buttercup was sitting down on the kiddy table in her room, drawing a nice scene of a fairy tale land, with pink teddy bears rubbing shoulders with yellow unicorns and blue pegasi (as far as Buttercup was concerned, they were the same, and she didn't care enough to learn the difference). A rainbow streamed from left to right overhead. She hated the drawing, but Blossom had made her do it. Bubbles was next to her, drawing the exact same thing.

"Now that's more like it. Isn't that nice, Buttercup? No fighting, no violence - no one getting killed," Blossom said from behind her, sounding a little more like an adult than she was supposed to be. She leaned on her, putting two arms on her shoulders and her chin on her head. "You're going to be exactly like us, Buttercup."

"But- No! I don't like this!" Buttercup resisted, throwing Blossom back. She could hear her stumbling, before falling on the carpeted floor.

"Stupid little sister," Blossom insulted her. Buttercup was shocked that those words had come out of her mouth, of all places. She turned around to see that she had the most malicious smile she had ever seen, something she would never see on Blossom, but it was there. "No one likes you the way you are! So unless you want to be kicked out of the family, you'll do exactly as I say!" She sashayed towards her as she said this. "This is my room - my bed - Daddy's mine, and you're on my law enforcement team. You're mine, Buttercup!"

Buttercup was rarely ever truly afraid, but this was one of those times. She took several steps back, only to trip and fall on the table, sitting on it. "Stay back! I'll hurt you bad!"

"Go ahead, I'll tell on you! And then you'll wish that you were bowing down at my feet!" Blossom said as she loomed closer, until she was within arms length. Buttercup took a swing at her, only for Blossom to wrap her hand around the wrist she threw up, and giving it a twist. Buttercup could hear a ripple of cracks as she felt pain erupting like a string of volcanoes in her wrist. She screamed. Blossom pushed her down on the table, and jumped on top of it, crouching over her. She pinned Buttercup down by the upper arms. "You're nothing, Buttercup. I'm better than you in every way. I'm prettier than you. I'm smarter, and I'm stronger than you. You're nothing. But if you were to be my pet…" Blossom leaned close to her face, a condescending smile on her own. She could almost literally feel her lips close to her ear. "You can be third best. Sorry, Bubbles took second place."

"No. No! No!" Buttercup screamed as she struggled against the vice-like grip of Blossom. She looked around the room, searching for Bubbles. "Bubbles! Don't just stand there, help!" But Bubbles was nowhere to be found. She'd ditched her.

"Yes… Yes… Buttercup! You're mine!" Blossom said, not sounding like herself at all.

"No, no, NO!" Buttercup screamed as she spent her all to resist Blossom, and with a push, threw Blossom off her, sending her pink-eyed sister flying through the door of the cabinet. Blossom went flying out almost as quickly, winding up a punch and throwing it the moment she was in range. Buttercup ducked, before springing up and pulling a stationary uppercut. Blossom was taken off her feet, flying a few feet upwards and backwards, but was able to recover by landing on her feet. Buttercup did not give her a chance to launch another attack; she put her back on a single, most destructive punch across Blossom's cheek.

And Blossom's head flew clean off her shoulders, spine, gullet and windpipe following behind her, sprays of blood painting spots on the carpet and Buttercup's face and dress. Buttercup could feel weakness in her knees as she realized what she'd done. She stumbled backwards, and could barely make it to a chair when she fell into the seat. Blossom's head had rolled on the floor, and when it was done, it was facing her at one end of the room, with eyes closed, seemingly dead.

"B-B-Blossom…" Buttercup stuttered as she stared at the decapitated head of her sister, for the first time feeling guilty for hurting her. "I-I didn't mean it! I was just- It wasn't- I didn't mean to kill you!"

Blossom's eyes flipped open the moment she'd said that. Buttercup jumped.

"But you did, Buttercup! And I'm going to tell on you!" Blossom screamed. "Dad! Daddy!"

The door into the room immediately opened, as though Professor Utonium had been waiting there all along. "Girls! What on Earth is going on!?" the professor said. In his hands was a huge present covered in pink wrappers, its recipient all but clear in the colour. He dropped the present upon seeing what was on the floor: Blossom's limp body, lying down in a heap, and her head in a corner. The present produced the sound of glass shattering when it hit the floor, but Buttercup couldn't figure out what it was.

"Buttercup hurt me really badly! Like she said she would!" Blossom's head told on Buttercup. The ravenette stared helplessly at the professor - there was no lying through this one.

"Buttercup! I'm disappointed in you!" the professor scolded, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You've been trouble from day one! I knew right from the beginning that you don't deserve my love!"

"But Dad-! No!" Buttercup cried, tears on free-flow, which she tried desperately to wipe away, but couldn't do it entirely. "I- I love you! I didn't mean to-"

"And I hate you! You're a subject! An experiment! You're from a lab! A lab rat, they'd call you! You don't deserve my love!"

"But Dad-!" Buttercup cried, only to be cut off.

"I hate you!" the professor snarled. "I hate you so much that the word 'hate' doesn't even begin to cover it!"

"Me-yeowth! That's right!" a most familiar voice concurred with that statement. A feline voice, if cats could speak. Buttercup traced the voice to where the present had dropped. Only, the present had somehow opened itself. The dead cat, which was supposed to be buried in snow just outside the front door of The House, was somehow in the present. "I tried to warn you about your Daddy, Buttercup… BUT YOU REFUSED TO LISTEN!"

"But- But- He can't- It can't be!" Buttercup stumbled in her words as her worst nightmares became reality. Somehow, she found herself on her knees, naked on the floor. On realizing this, she covered herself with her hands.

"He loves Blossom and Bubbles more than you, Buttercup," the dead cat said. Somehow, it managed to get up on its paws, padding towards her despite its broken neck and cracked skull. "In fact, I don't think he loves you at all… Yes… Yes…"

"Yes… He doesn't… love… you," Blossom's head concurred on the floor.

"You're going to have to try harder than that!" Bubbles had somehow appeared beside Daddy just to add salt to the wound.

"Now the only thing to do…" Professor Utonium said tearfully, with his back slumped. He then straightened up, with a determined look on his face. A demented smile formed from ear to ear after that. "Is to put you back on the table!"

Buttercup suddenly found herself on the surgical table, with not even surgical scrubs to cover her. She tried to move, but she couldn't. Looking around her, she noticed straps holding her in place, in a rough crucifix position. Professor Utonium came into view, masked with an apron over his lab coat. He held a Duranium surgical knife over her.

"Daddy… No… Please don't!" Buttercup said weakly, the glint of the knife scaring her. Without a word, the professor brought it down, digging into her chest. Buttercup gasped - the pain was excruciating that she couldn't even scream - not that screaming would do it justice. She could feel the scalpel going down her chest, dragging through her flesh as if it was made of paper, cutting a wide slit open on her chest cavity, spilling blood in either directions. She whimpered as she cried tears of blood. The scalpel went all the way down to her groin. Once done, the professor pulled open the skin sideways as Buttercup struggled to even breathe, knowing full well that her lungs were exposed. A mirror was held above her just to show her what the professor was doing to her.

"Dad- P-please! No… No…"

The City of Townsville. Townsville Industrial Park. Temporary USDO Command Centre.

16 DEC 1988. 2331.

"No… No…" Buttercup mumbled in her unconsciousness. She and her sisters had been brought back to the warehouse and office where the USDO had set up shop. "No!" Buttercup shot up from her makeshift bed - the employee couch. And Blossom was right beside her, her face covered in gauze.

"Mom!" Blossom shouted over her shoulder upon seeing that her sister had finally come to. She herself had clawed her way to consciousness not long ago, and had been sitting beside Buttercup for the past ten minutes. She hugged Buttercup tightly on seeing that she was alright, and not in a 'coma' as Private Zach had suggested she might fall into. "Oh, Buttercup, I was so worried." She looked Buttercup in the eyes when she was done squeezing her.

Buttercup stared at Blossom with fear in her eyes, petrified.

"Buttercup? It's okay - I was scared too," Blossom tried to comfort her sister. Selicia Goodwin came up next to Buttercup, taking her turn to hug her favorite.

"How are you feeling, darling?" Selicia asked. She ran her finger gently along Buttercup's face, checking to make sure the gauze taped to her face would stay on. Thankfully, none of the Girls required surgery - as far as Private Zach was able to determine. They would have to be scanned at home for any internal injuries. Stitches would have helped - but the medic's supply of needles wouldn't penetrate their skin - it would have to be done at home, as the professor had ordered in his own supply of Duranium surgical tools, including Duranium needles - if the Girls even require stitching to fully heal in the first place.

"Mom…" Buttercup merely whimpered and hugged her back. She immediately resisted the tears that were threatening to burst forth, it being second nature to put up a brave front. But this was all too much, and she couldn't hold it all back. A single teardrop fell before she could keep it under control. What she couldn't resist was a good squeeze.

But the relief didn't last. Buttercup could hear stomping coming up to him. She knew immediately who it was.

"Finally," Chief of Security Blackwater said, his tone unfeeling. "I want to hear what happened, and I want to hear it from the both of you."

Buttercup glanced around Blackwater, searching for Bubbles. She was in her own corner, sitting on a single-seater couch, looking down at the floor, looking suitably ashamed of herself. Buttercup thought she deserved it because of the way she abandoned her. In fact, as soon as she could drag herself out of the dumpster, she was going to give her a piece of her mind.

The resultant conversation next was basically Blossom and Buttercup trying to talk over each other, and Blackwater shushing them up to hear one side of the story then the next. The USDO Chief of Security was hardly even interested - to him, it was merely procedure. All he needed to know was that they'd failed miserably to meet mission parameters once more. His captain, who was sitting nearby, needed it more than he did, as she would be writing the report instead of him. He'd called Bubbles over for her opinion, but she had too little to give, and Blackwater's intention hadn't been duty - he wanted to make sure that Bubbles was humiliated over her cowardice and inaction.

And he was successful. He'd made sure to give her questions she couldn't answer, forcing her to admit each time that she didn't know because she'd ran away.

"The three of you have failed once again," Blackwater said severely, with the three Girls seated together on the couch. "We were only able to arrest a fraction of the bad guys in the warehouse. Some of the criminals you knocked out woke up and ran away, Blossom. Then there's their escape - 29 of them. Including one of their bosses, who you three somehow failed to defeat. You've defied orders, and refused to shoot and kill even though I explicitly ordered that you do. I can't stand disobedience, Blossom! And I can't stand uselessness and stupidity! I can't stand-"

"You weren't there!" Bubbles suddenly shouted, interrupting Blackwater, who immediately shot ICBMs at her with his eyes, absolutely hating the fact that the most useless of the three had talked over him.

"You weren't there!" Bubbles repeated herself, crying in a high-pitched tone, a mix of too many negative emotions, unlike a normal kid. She had simply experienced too much for a single emotion to cover. "You called us useless and stupid but you weren't there!"

"Bubbles, shut the hell up!" Blackwater bellowed.

"You're mean! You weren't there to help us and all you do is to shout at us!" Bubbles added, not listening. Blossom stared at her, worried. Blackwater didn't look like the kind of person who would appreciate children talking out of turn. Blackwater has had it. At first, all he did was to shoot missiles at her with his eyes, until he smiled. To the Girls, it seemed an unnaturally kind smile. But everyone else in the room knew better.

"You know, perhaps you're right, Bubbles," Blackwater said unexpectedly. Getting down to one knee, he caressed Bubbles' hair. Selicia shifted uncomfortably. Even in the distance, Agent Blake and his men had gone silent. Detective Mullens and Officer Olivia watched the scene vigilantly, sensing more scum in their city. "How could I have been so blind, Bubbles? You're right, you're totally right, of course."

"I am?" Bubbles said, a little confused.

"Come on, why don't we have our own little private session by the pool table?" Blackwater proposed, but he wasn't making a suggestion. Picking up Bubbles and holding onto her like a baby, he walked over to the pool table. Selicia watched with dread, and knew what Blackwater was doing. If he was acting this way, it meant that there was something evil up ahead.

"Chief, I think I should take the Girls home," Selicia suggested meekly.

"Oh no, there's no rush, Sergeant. After all, I've got to hear what our brilliant genius here have got to say," Blackwater denied, continuing to maintain his fake smile, which was beginning to scare Selicia. He put Bubbles down on the pool table, bringing her up closer to his height. "A good girl like her… Deserves a reward. You know what? How about I give you a little something for all your hard work. What do you say, Bubbles?"

Bubbles nodded cautiously, thinking that, perhaps, she had gotten through to her. She had done it before, after all, and now Mister Blake and his squad were her friends. It couldn't be any different now, could it?

"Open your mouth, Bubbles. I have a little something for you," Blackwater said, his smile slowly fading. Bubbles did as he asked.

"Chief Blackwater. Sir, please don't," Selicia begged. The Chief of Security's guards moved to block her. She could picture what he was about to do, and she didn't like what her imagination had brought up. Rough as she might be, Blackwater was about to cross a line even she wouldn't dare come within a mile of.

Chief of Security Blackwater reached for his hip, unholstering his pistol. He pulled the slide blindingly fast and stuck the pistol into Bubbles' mouth, catching Bubbles by surprise, who could only mumble unintelligibly to protest.

"You scumbag! Don't ever interrupt me, don't ever talk over me again, understand!?" Blackwater yelled at Bubbles, who shook at his sudden change in tone. Blossom and Buttercup stood up, alarmed. "I'm in charge here, and whatever I say goes! No arguments, no tantrums!"

"Blackwater, please! She's only a baby! She doesn't understand!" Selicia pleaded with her superior to stop. Blackwater did not so much as glance in her direction. The guards pushed her back, but she could see exactly what was happening. Part of Blackwater's sidearm was in Bubbles' mouth, and Bubbles didn't like it one bit. Predictably, she had started crying, her sobs muffled by the gun in her mouth.

"It's only because of people like me that you're even here, and frankly, you don't deserve it. Look at what your sisters went through, because you were too cowardly to help them," Blackwater accused. Bubbles replied and begged unintelligibly.

And then the Chief of Security fired his pistol. There were screams in the room; Selicia and the Girls', even a few other operatives, otherwise hardened modern warriors.

"Bubbles!" Selicia screamed.

"Jesus H. Christ!" Agent Blake exclaimed.

"What the hell, big man!" Detective Mullens shouted.

The bullet had ricocheted inside Bubbles' mouth, and it took some time for it to run out of energy. Bubbles bit down on the Chief of Security's pistol in pain and alarm, before looking like she was choking on a jawbreaker. Blackwater pulled his pistol out, inspecting it. There were bite marks near the muzzle-end of the slide, as well as the bottom. Bubbles bawled her eyes out at the ordeal.

"Idiot! You broke my pistol!" Blackwater scolded despite what he had put Bubbles through. He slapped her with his huge ham-fist. Bubbles fell off the pool table. He holstered his damaged pistol. "We're done here. It's time to pack up and move."

The Chief of Security made for the exit, and so did most of the USDO soldiers. Selicia broke through his guards and ran up to him, throwing a right hook up at his jaw. It hardly even registered in him.

"Hell of a right hook, Selicia, but you're going to have to do better than that. Try harder next time, and I'll get you demoted down to private," he said anti-climatically before pushing Selicia aside and walking the rest of the way out of the office. Soldiers streamed out, leaving behind Agent Blake and his men, the token police presence, Selicia and the Girls.

Selicia ran up to Bubbles, who was clutching her cheek, and picked her up, returning her to the pool table. She was crowded around by the others; Sergeant Blake, Detective Mullens, the Girls, all concerned that Blackwater might have done some damage. She was trying to get Bubbles to open her mouth, trying to pry open the little girl's mouth, but Bubbles' wouldn't budge at first, as she was too busy bawling and holding her mouth shut because of the pain. "Bubbles, let your Mommy see it!"

It took some coaxing to get Bubbles to open her mouth, and Selicia stared inside, unable to see anything because of the chiaroscuro lighting of the room.

"Here, let me," Agent Blake squeezed into the epicentre of the crowd and pulled out a flashlight, shining it into Bubbles' mouth.

"Jesus! At least give them some credit, for Pete's sake!" Detective Mullens protested belatedly. "Handing a beat-down to twenty bottom feeders with just your hands ain't an easy thing!"

Selicia had expected some blood - it was commonly understood that flesh inside the body is more vulnerable than what was outside. She was afraid that that could apply to the Girls too. But when she could finally inspect the damage with Blake's light, she saw no damage.

"Where's the bullet? I don't see the bullet!" Agent Blake exclaimed, still fearing for Bubbles. He couldn't find the dull shine of the lead that was supposed to be somewhere inside Bubbles' mouth.

"Did it disintegrate? Can you see any shrapnels?" Officer Olivia suggested from the periphery.

"Or can it break apart into powder? Is that how the Gals work?" Detective Mullens contributed.

Bubbles sniffled, trying to speak, and she could barely. "I- I think I s-swallowed it…" Bubbles said.

"Ew," Buttercup expressed her opinion curtly. She received a nudge from Blossom. Her body aching badly from the fight, she actually felt pain from the gentle gesture, and stopped. Bubbles recalled the terrible taste of the metal, and how it slid down her throat, having accidentally swallowed it because of the pain and anxiety. It'd made a rough journey down because of the bullet's deformation and sharp edges. The mere memory of this made Bubbles cried harder, her shrill voice reverberating across the room.

"Can we get it out any way? Maybe by surgery?" Corporal Rutherland asked.

"She could poop it out, there's that," the crass Private Zach suggested. Selicia wanted neither.

"Bubbles, I need you to stop crying," Selicia told her adopted daughter. Bubbles tried, but she could barely hold it in. "I can fix this, but I need you to stop crying, okay?" Selicia gave her a brief hug to reassure her…

Before thrusting her fingers into Bubbles' throat, causing a gag reflex. Selicia held Bubbles up as she vomited down onto the carpeted floor. Everyone backed away. Sure enough, in the pool of stomach fluid was the dull shine of metal. Blackwater's expended bullet.

'The professor's going to kill me,' Selicia thought.

Chapter Text

Chapter 51: Opportunity

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988. 2352

When the Lamborghini speed transports were back at The House, the lights in the living room was switched on almost immediately. Professor Utonium stepped out immediately, looking a little weary despite having done nothing but sit at the couch, dying of worry, while listening to some oldies on the radio in a futile attempt to calm himself. He had been worried sick for the past couple of hours, completely incapacitated by it, by Agent Blake's admission that the Girls were going somewhere worst than the Townsville Central Bank robbery. The image of three kid-sized body bags coming towards him across the lawn in his head wouldn't go away.

And what he saw when the Girls came out wasn't the furthest from that image. At first, the professor had greeted them with the widest smile he could manage to mask his emotional debilitation, but when he saw the Girls disembarking, it fell away very quickly when he saw their faces, which were covered in bruises and gauze. Much of their gear had been removed and Bubbles was the only exception, though her pallid complexion told of a story almost as bad.

"Dad!" Blossom shouted with relief as she ran up to him, crossing the lawn at super-speed and slowing down only when she was close to the professor. She immediately hugged him around the legs. Bubbles and Buttercup followed up behind him, with the former stopping to stand in front of him with head bowed in shame while the latter hugged the professor as well. Selicia was taking her time, exchanging goodbyes with her fellow security personnel before walking across the snowy lawn.

"Blossom! Girls! What happened!?" the professor exclaimed, alarmed by their injuries - what could possibly cause them?

"It was really bad, Dad!" Blossom said, her voice trembling from relief and memories of the not-so-distant past.

"Yeah! We were beaten by a bad guy!" Buttercup elaborated a little. All she had done was to introduce more questions than answers. How on Earth could a regular Joe, even if he was a seasoned criminal, even begin to injure them in the first place? His only conclusion was that there was something special about this particular crook. The USDO, as the shadowy Organization, did have some escaped subjected in the past. Jojo and Naga came to mind.

"I can't believe this!" the professor said. He knelt down, inspecting Blossom's wounds. They were superficial, though he couldn't be sure what trauma was or wasn't under the skin. The family would have to burn midnight oil in the lab tonight. The professor's head and shoulders sagged when he was done. "I should've been there! It's all my fault!"

"Dad, it's not," Blossom comforted. She hugged the professor. "Remember what you said when I blamed myself for the policemen's death? Dad, you weren't the man who beat me up…"

"Daddy… Please don't be sad," Buttercup chipped in, genuinely troubled that her beloved father was so broken. He thought he could a stifled sniffle, and see him wiping his eyes. "I did what you asked - I didn't kill anyone." It was all she got - even if she did want to kill someone. She would have said more, had it not been for her nightmare, which she was still struggling to process. It seemed so vivid, so different from the kind she'd had before Junior, so vivid that it seemed real. She couldn't get the image of a hateful professor out of her head.

"I'm fine, Girls. I'm fine," the professor said, finally looking up. "You're right, Blossom, and I'm proud of you, Buttercup. Come on, let's get the three of you inside…"

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988. 0021.

Professor Utonium held the x-ray printouts of the Girls above him, using the fluorescent lights in the ceiling of his lab to view them. He couldn't seem to find even a single micro-fracture anywhere. Despite how the Girls appeared, there was some silver lining to their ordeal - there were no internal injuries. He had previously ran them through a neurological CT scan, to find no brain damage.

Even their flesh wounds were already beginning to mend rapidly. He could have sworn that, as he was stitching up Blossom's forehead, he could see the internal bleeding in her black eye receding. It was the same with Buttercup - as he was examining her, he thought he could see the bruise on her jaw receding, bit by bit.

Even the cut on Blossom's forehead seemed smaller, if Selicia's observation was anything to do by - he conjectured that, even without stitching, the Girls would be able to heal very quickly - just that stitching helped hasten the process.

Needless to say, the professor was equal parts furious, and depressed. His worst nightmare with the Girls was coming to pass. While getting gunned down by thugs on the streets was no longer a possibility, they were suffering, and badly. No girls, normal or enhanced, should have to go through this - getting beaten up to the point of turning black-and-blue and red.

And he was furious at what Chief of Security Blackwater had done with the Girls, with Bubbles. He promised himself that the next time he met him, there would be words, no matter where they were.

"Dad, why is it so difficult to fight crime?" Blossom had asked him while he was stitching her up - she was valiantly resisting the urge to sprint to the other end of the lab when he stuck a Duranium needle in her repeatedly.

"Because it's what good people do. That's how you know it's the right thing to do, Blossom dear," the professor replied as he was concentrating on her forehead. "It might seem painful and pointless to do the right thing, but that's because you can't always see the good that you do. When you took down those bad guys, you're never going to see how you've saved the lives they were going to destroy - but it's there, and eventually the people of Townsville will love you for it. It's just like what I'm doing with you right now, darling. It might hurt to stitch you up, but it's going to help you heal much faster. You'll see that you're good as new tomorrow when you look into the mirror."

"I understand, Dad," Blossom said after a long pause, pondering on his words of wisdom. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, dear," the professor said. He planted a kiss on top of her head before moving onto Buttercup. Of the three Girls, Buttercup has had it the worst. The skin on her scalp had split long and wide from repeated trauma in the same spot, and she required more stitches. "Turn around, Buttercup."

"Is she going to be okay, Thomas?" Selicia asked. She'd snuck up on them - a habit of hers.

"They'll live, Selicia," the professor replied curtly. " And they won't even have a faint scar by morning. I don't know about the rest." If the professor was trying to dredge up some guilt in Selicia, he had done a good job at that. She could feel the pangs immediately. She was a woman of action, and she would always feel that there was more she could have done.

"I'll be okay Mom, Dad," Buttercup said quickly, looking to impress, and she didn't have to lie this time to do it. She was eager to get out there again, perhaps even get revenge for what Junior had done to her, and if that wasn't on the menu, find more bad guys to beat up, though strictly, they didn't have to be bad guys… The dark thought had entered her mind quite suddenly, that it'd fazed even her. But she moved on rather quickly - she couldn't wait for the time when Blossom was no longer the leader. It meant that she could do whatever she wanted, kill and play around with as many baddies as she could get her hands on.

"That's my Girl, Buttercup," Selicia praised.

"This is going to hurt, Buttercup, but it'll make you all better," the professor gave her a heads up while he was targeting his needle. It was harder this time, as he had to try to do it through Buttercup's hair, which obscured his vision - what he wouldn't give to have Blossom's x-ray vision! Perhaps in time, he could teach the Girls first aid or even medicine and surgery.

Selicia sat down next to Buttercup and held her hand, comforting her gently that it would be over quickly. The black-haired girl could feel disinfectant after that, then the needle. She winced at both. The only silver lining to this was that the Professor had opted not to shave her, owing to the lack of proper Duranium equipment - if his hypothesis was right, the Girls were completely immune to normal bacteria and viruses. They were born without a mother, which should have made them vulnerable to illnesses, but thus far, they hadn't even gotten a flu. It did make the work more intricate, as it meant clearing any hair that got in, but it didn't deter him.

"You're doing fine, Buttercup. Don't move," the professor encouraged. Being incredibly resilient to any kind of penetrating force, including armor-piercing bullets, Buttercup found it weird and alarming feeling, sensing the needle slipping through her skin as if it was cloth. It made her feel vulnerable, if Junior hadn't put that in her already.

"I'm so sorry, Thomas, for everything," Selicia said, as she held on tightly to Buttercup's hand, gently stroking it as she winced with every needle jab and pull of the thread. The little girl's grip was strong - it was like feeling an adult's hand crushing her's every time she felt pain, except it was small - the contrast broke her heart.

Professor Utonium stayed silent as he continued his master work, but not entirely because of it.

"Don't be sorry, Mom. You were there for me," Bubbles said. She had been watching silently all along while sitting nearly, though the stitching had grossed her out. The professor took note. He'd heard it from the Girls what she had done - little. But there was only so much Selicia could do in the field - she had spearheaded the charge to recover them, helped with applying first-aid and came to Bubbles' defense, where previously she had attacked her.

"I wish I could have done more," Selicia said to the both of them.

"Uh-huh…" the professor simply grunted as he continued down Buttercup's long gash. He took his time to sweat Selicia out, but as he worked on Buttercup, she had said nothing more, nor incriminated herself in any way. In the end, the Girls had all but supported her, with the possible exception of Blossom, who stayed silent.

"I could have done more too," Professor Utonium finally replied his wife. It was a fair assessment. He could have pushed his way into the speed transport but he didn't. Could he survive entering a war zone? Anything for his daughters. He could have done more, just like Selicia.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988. 0105.

After bathing the Girls and tucking them in bed, Thomas and Selicia was finally able to tend to their own needs, taking quick showers before settling into bed. The professor was in his usual white pyjamas while Selicia had slipped into her red sleeping gown. As soon as he switched off the table lamp, a void of light and sound took over the room. As usual, they slept facing away from each other.

"Hey Thomas," Selicia suddenly said.

"Yes?" Thomas asked.

"Thanks," Selicia said.

"For what?" Thomas asked.

"For not pushing me away in the lab. We feel like a family again just now," Selicia explained.

"Don't mention it," Thomas simply said. Selicia rolled around to face him. She inched closer to him. The professor could feel her getting closer, so he rolled over to face her. "Something else you want?"

"Just returning the favor," Selicia said, before cuddling up to him and kissing him in the lips, putting her arms around him. She didn't let go the way he did before the Girls left for their second mission. Instead, she went all in, kissing him passionately. Thomas did not resist this time. She wormed her tongue into his mouth, which took him by surprise. He pulled back, and made some space between them.

"I can't," he said.

"Is it because of your wife? Eileen?" Selicia asked.

"Yes… and no. A big no. Not on a night like this. All I can think about are the Girls," Thomas professed.

"Does that mean you want me, Tommy?" Selicia said slyly, lust in her voice. But it was more than lust. It was a way for her to seal her place in the family, and to make the family itself seem more like a real one, no matter how fake ti was.

"No…" the professor struggled, uncertainty in his voice. The mind clashing with the body. "Go back to sleep, Selicia."

"Can I at least do it in your arms? Please, I just need you to hold me. God, I was so afraid out there," Selicia said. "When I saw the Buttercup, all messed up and lying on the ground, I thought that…" she paused for a while, still trying to come to grips with her emotions. "Is there room for one more girl in your arms?"

The professor sighed. Selicia did have the Girls' happiness interest in mind, there was no doubt about that since day one or day two. She had erred, but to err was human - ostracizing her wasn't going to do the anyone any favours. Awkwardly, he slipped his arm under Selicia's nape, which went around her shoulders. The woman laid her head on his chest, putting her hand on his stomach.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988. 0117.

Back in the Girls' room, The Three had trouble sleeping, with the exception of Bubbles, who was somehow, miraculously, able to do so despite the trauma she suffered at the hands of Blackwater. Buttercup's eyes were wide-open, but she'd kept it hidden from Blossom, who was just as awake, by turning away from her. She didn't exactly want to see her in such an intimate moment. It'd reveal exactly how angry she was at Blossom, not just for what had happened in the warehouse, but also because of what had happened in the nightmare. She knew vaguely that it couldn't be real, but it spoke to her so clearly, agreeing with her on how she felt about Blossom.

She knew she had to be the leader, not Blossom. Blossom had been the leader twice now, and they had failed twice. All she needed was an opportunity. Closing her eyes, Buttercup tried again to sleep, hoping that her chance to set things right, to be the leader, would come the next day.

In the meantime, Blossom was tossing and turning in the middle. At first, she was facing Bubbles, then Buttercup. For a time, she tried to keep her eyes closed, hoping that drowsiness would take her, but it wouldn't. Sitting up, she leaned against the heart-patterned headboard.

Daddy had taught her before how to fall asleep - but it wasn't working. Or rather, she couldn't make it work. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she would see was Junior, laying in on her, causing her pain unequaled even by the many bullets shot at her. And then there's Buttercup…

Blossom laid a hand on Buttercup's head, caressing her short bob cut.

"My dear sister…" she whispered as she continued to lovingly caress Buttercups hair, as if Buttercup was well awake and could hear and feel her. "Poor Buttercup… I'm sorry that you suffered."

Whimpering as she wished she was asleep, Blossom gently and carefully pulled the tri-colored blanket down, before emerging out of it. And crawling down from the bed. Starting from the foot of the bed, she went around to Buttercup's side of it and pulled the blanket over her once again. With that, she adjusted her red hair bow, which she had insisted on wearing to sleep.

"Get better soon," Blossom said to the sleeping Buttercup, before turning around and leaving the room through the door.

Buttercup opened her green-glowing eyes. She had been wide awake all along.

'My sister,' Blossom had described her as such, in her most honest moments - after all, Blossom had thought that she was asleep, and there was no one else in the room. She didn't like it. Earlier, when Daddy had offered to let Blossom sleep in his room, Blossom had rejected the offer, stating that she would be fine sleeping in 'MY room' and in 'MY bed'. It was just like the dream; everything belonged to her now.

And that would change very soon. Buttercup could sense that her opportunity was now, when Blossom had gone off into the dark, dark House, alone. And vulnerable.

Chapter Text

Chapter 52: In The Snow

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988. 0119.

Blossom could not sleep, and so she took to leaving her room and going down to the kitchen. The professor, so loving and understanding as he was, had anticipated this, and shown her after stitching her up in the labs where the milk and the glasses were in the kitchen, should she need a little help.

It was dark, but darkness was no obstacle. Instinctively, she was able to will it away. Her eyes glowed brighter, until they resembled a pair of flashlights, illuminating a short distance ahead of her, just like what Buttercup did with her eyes when she peeked into the barrel of a pistol for the first time - it wasn't as strong as a real flashlight, but at least she wouldn't be tripping over anything anytime soon.

It was the first time she did this, and she was genuinely surprised at herself. However, she was used to doing strange things that the vast majority of the population could not, so she moved on quickly.

Going through the living room, she got to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She searched for the white carton. First tier, second tier, and finally found it on the third tier of the fridge. On it was written 'milk', a word she had learned to interpret only recently. Taking it out, she stepped on a stool to reach the counter with the glass and poured herself half a cup of milk.

Then there was the sound of a door sliding open. Alarmed, she looked around her - and she couldn't see too far ahead despite the light from her eyes. "Mom?" she called out into the void. No reply from it came. Perplexed, she took her glass of milk along and went into the living room. It'd come from there. "Dad?"

The glass door leading into the backyard was open for some reason. She could feel the cold wind coming in, though she could not perceive the cold as well as others - it simply did not affect her as badly. 'Did the wind blow it open?' she thought as she approached it. In her mind, it was a real possibility, as she did not know how quite did sliding doors work.

"Odd…" she said to herself as she grabbed the door, intending to pull it shut. That was when she heard footsteps behind her. She looked over her shoulder, alarmed-

And saw a pair of glowing green irises rushing towards her at a blindingly fast speed. She realized too late that it was Buttercup as she came within range of her flashlight-eyes. With a vicious shout, her green-eyed sister tackled her, throwing her out into the backyard, skidding along the snow, her glass of milk tumbling and emptying its content in the snow, the brim shattering but not most of it.

Blossom could taste snow in her mouth as she was recovering. Rolling over, she saw Buttercup standing over her, even without her eyes on lantern mode. The light from the streetlamps had put a dim texture on everything, and Buttercup's eyes was a contrast to it all, glowing menacingly, the shape of it angry, more than angry. It was deadly. Venomous.

"Buttercup! What are you doing!?" Blossom questioned her sister, feeling paralyzing fear enveloping her heart – and Buttercup had become something worse than even the gangsters she fought just a couple of hours ago, rivalling that of Junior's killer aura.

Buttercup did not answer. Instead, she broke into a run towards Blossom, who was barely able to stand up when her wayward sister threw a charging punch at her, which Blossom blocked with her forearms, but the force of it had thrown her back into the snow.

"I'm taking what's mine," Buttercup finally said something as she looked condescendingly down on her red-gowned sister, and it didn't reassure Blossom at all. Instead, it'd made her shiver, and it wasn't because of the wintry night air or the snow. "You're not the leader anymore. I'm the leader now. Say yes, Blossom."

"What are you saying, Buttercup?" Blossom asked rhetorically in disbelief, unable to accept what her very own sister had just said, what she was trying to do.

"Say yes, Blossom," Buttercup repeated, a chilling smile spreading across her equally cold face in anticipation of what she felt was inevitable victory – she had surprised Blossom and bested her in a fight. Now, she had to give up and realize that she, Buttercup, was more fit to lead the three of them. "Say yes, and I'll love you like a sister should…"

"No, Buttercup. You can't do this," Blossom insisted as she stood up, taking Buttercup's smile away. "You just can't." When it came to explaining it, Blossom faltered. There was just so many reasons why, and no guarantee that Buttercup would even listen – she knew how her headstrong sister could be.

"If you won't say yes, then I'll make you!" Buttercup screamed before launching into a flurry of machinegun punches, which even Blossom, her equivalent in combat, had trouble dodging or blocking. Her arms felt sore within seconds, either from taking punches head-on or deflecting them - until they started sagging from exhaustion.

"Buttercup, stop!" Blossom pleaded in despair as she felt herself weakening.

"Give up, Blossom, and I will!" Buttercup said, keeping her punches up, as if it wasn't even taxing her even slightly, until finally, she went for a more underhanded route and punched Blossom in the stomach. Blossom sank into the ground, clutching her stomach. Buttercup chortled, and pulled a fist back, but as she did, Blossom found the handle of her cup again. Buttercup threw a hard punch at her, but the wind-up was so slow that Blossom had only need to duck a little to dodge it. In turn, Blossom smashed her cup on Buttercup's head.

Buttercup screamed. The wound on her scalp ignited with burning pain. She jumped on top of Blossom, knocking her down, punching her in the face several times. Blossom retaliated by punching back, then digging her fingers into her stitching, ripping some of the threads off, reopening the wound. Blood flowed freely once more. Buttercup yowled in pain and headbutted Blossom, and while she was stunned from the blow, she picked her up and threw her into the backyard tree. Blossom bounced off the wood back-first with a loud thud. The tree shook and snow fell like an avalanche all around it and on Blossom, covering her, blinding her as she was still moaning on the snowy floor. It was like being buried alive. Like Buttercup's other victims.

The snow smothered Blossom, and she couldn't breathe in it, forcing her to burst through it, but she had taken too long. She wasn't even on her feet for a second when Buttercup rammed into her, sending her spinning and slamming into the tree once more, this time head-first. It felt like existence and pain was one and the same when Buttercup assaulted her so mercilessly. Blossom couldn't even think for all her intelligence because of it, and neither did Buttercup let up.

Grabbing Blossom by the arm, Buttercup gave it a twist with one hand, locking it behind her back. She slammed her into the tree after that, and pinned her against it with a forearm to the back of her neck and her knee on her spine. "This is revenge for beating me in front of Mom!" She twisted Blossom's arm harder. Pain surged through the pink-eyed little girl's arm and shoulder. Blossom's other arm pushed against the bark of the tree uselessly, trying to push herself away from it, but Buttercup was all too strong, and she'd had her in a bind.

"Say it, sister! I'm the leader now, say it!" Buttercup demanded, almost gloating. She was so into it that she was paying zero attention to her conduct - saliva dribbled from a corner of her mouth as she stared into the back of her sister's head, as if able to see her brain, hungrily as if she could try to dig it out from her skull the next moment.

It was at this time that Blossom seriously considered relinquishing her leadership position. But that would mean disappointing Dad - she had counted on her, always, to look after her sisters. Blackwater, despite being mean, had seen something in her, made her the leader - and he didn't take it away even after the terrible mess that was the debacle at Townsville Central bank. Surely, that meant something?

"No!" Blossom cried, tears forming snakes down her cheeks, just as much from being hurt by Buttercup's mutiny as from the pain that seemed to occupy every single cell in her left arm and shoulder.

Buttercup responded by twisting her arm further. "Hrng!" Blossom gasped, truly terrified.

"I'll break it, Blossom, my dear sister," Buttercup threatened. "I promise I'll break it, and then we'll see how you'll fight crime!"

"Buttercup- we're- sisters!" Blossom struggled to reason with her, even as her arm felt like it was coming out of its socket. "I- I love you! Don't you love me!?"

"Love!?" Buttercup spat, and twisted Blossom's arm harder. Blossom screamed. "You took everything - the room, the bed, being the leader! Dad!"

"What are you talking about!?" Blossom struggled. Buttercup found it insulting that she was so ignorant - her only explanation for this was that Blossom was just playing dumb. She added a few more degrees to her arm twist. Blossom slammed her right fist against the tree as a futile way to cope with the excruciating pain, whimpering, and since she knew nothing of any divine entity who could help, Dad replaced her call for divine intervention. But she was outside - he wasn't able to hear her.

"You're strong, not like Bubbles. She cried like a baby and wetted herself," Buttercup laughed, recounting the first time she'd threatened someone. Specifically, that time in the cinema lady's room when she took the seat next to Daddy by force.

It didn't take long for Blossom to put two and two together, even as pain had clouded her mind.

"You… You did this to Bubbles?"

"I didn't hurt her, Blossom. She gave up before I could do that," Buttercup said. "You should be like her. Give up, Blossom. I won't ask again."

Blossom clawed at the bark of the tree as Buttercup put more pressure on her shoulder joint. She could feel that it was on the verge of dislocating. No matter how much she struggled, she couldn't push Buttercup off, and neither could she turn around or go down, slide under her. If only there was some other way…

"No!" Blossom said again.

"Wrong answer, dear sister," Buttercup gloated with glee, and added even more force to her arm twist. Blossom resisted however much she could, but she could feel her strength failing.

"Noooooooo!" Blossom cried as she could feel the beginnings of a dislocation. That was when Blossom felt herself lifting off, ever so gently, imperceptibly.

Pretty soon, what felt like a mere upward force became an overwhelming force that completely took her off the ground, and it took Buttercup completely by surprise as she rose without coming down, to a slight hover a few feet up. Blossom was able to dislodge herself that way.

"What- What's happening!?" Buttercup cried as Blossom rose higher. She was still clinging onto Blossom's hand, and she, too, was off the ground, but only because she was holding onto her hand. "Wooaaah!"

Blossom looked down in surprise, at what she was achieving - flight! Or at least the precursor to it, as she was merely hovering a few feet up, then two yard, then several. But she had trouble controlling it. She kicked the tree in front of her, and was able to move backwards away from it, as if she was in a zero gravity environment. She wanted to get down, so she tried it by kicking her legs backwards, higher. The result was more violent than she had anticipated. By kicking her legs backwards, she had orientated herself to face the ground head-first, putting Buttercup above her, relatively. When she straightened her legs in surprise, she accidentally launched herself into Buttercup, smashing her into the ground.

Buttercup had it worse than Blossom, as the latter little girl had the former to act as a cushion when the former had only a thin layer of snow. For a time, the both of them were stunned, lying down together in the snow, then Blossom got off, crawling away from Buttercup, who looked like she was half-dead, if not from shock, then from the impact.

Buttercup could barely sit up, and when she did, she had to get out of a Buttercup-shaped hole in the snow. She felt the back of her head. It was slick with something wet, and it hurt bad. The impact with Blossom had agitated the wound there, but with it half-sealed, the bleeding wasn't as bad. "Ouch…"

"I'm telling Daddy about you, Buttercup!" Blossom said angrily as she sat up, dusting the snow off her. Her left arm and shoulder still felt terribly sore, so she held tightly onto it, her wild imagination giving her the idea that it might actually fall off. "Bubbles and I - we're your sister and we loved you - and all you've done is to hurt us! I'm telling on you!"

"No, wait! Please!" Buttercup begged, but Blossom simply turned around and walked back towards the House. Buttercup tried to go after Blossom, but she had tripped in the snow, her limbs dumb from the impact and cold. What Blossom did with her new 'floating' ability had taken the fight out of Buttercup, and it was all she could do. "Please don't! I'm sorry!"

"That's what you said the last time!" Blossom turned around and chided her wayward sister. "And you lied to Dad about me after that!"

"Blossom, please!" Buttercup pleaded with her more reasonable sister, crawling up to her and throwing herself at her feet. " I'm sorry - I just want to be loved by Mom and Dad! I- I-" By this point, Buttercup was truly desperate, and the tears that fell from her eyes were more genuine, well, almost.

"I just feel left out of everything! I just thought that being leader will make them notice me more!" Buttercup spluttered as she clutched tightly onto Blossom's ankle. Blossom looked down at her, dispassionate. She had just gone too far, talking and plotting behind her back and nearly breaking her arm - and enjoying the cruelty in the process. Buttercup was no longer the sister she knew. She continued towards the house, practically dragging Buttercup across the snow, making a trail.

"Let go of me, Buttercup!" Blossom demanded. She tried to shake Buttercup's hands loose, but she wouldn't let go. It wasn't that she was impeding her in any way - it was just a minor inconvenience barely affecting her gait, but she didn't like the touch of Buttercup's hands - those same hands that had nearly tore her arm right out of its joints. Tired of this, she gave Buttercup a horse-kick in the face, but her death grip was strong as ever.

"You don't love me, Blossom! You're lying!" Buttercup cried. "You took everything from me, and now you're going to take Dad away! Forever!"

"What are you talking about?" Blossom asked angrily.

"The room's yours, the bed's yours, you- you're the leader! Dad- he- he talks and listens to you all the time!" Buttercup spluttered. Somehow, what she said had gotten Blossom to stop.

"Buttercup, I don't understand! The room… the bed… they're ours, not mine. And Dad - he's our father, yours too," Blossom said, this time looking down at Buttercup with eyes filled with concern. Their eyes met, and for the first time in the backyard, neither of them was angry-looking. "I may be the leader, but we're a team! I can't fight crime without you or Bubbles."

"Then why's the room pink? Why're you always in the centre of the bed?" Buttercup cried. "And Daddy… he…"

Blossom could not help but to tear up herself. Buttercup's feelings seemed genuine - and if they were genuine... Then she must have been incredibly upset for much of her short existence. It'd explained everything - her bad attitude, her sour mood that hardly ever improved. Blossom knelt down.

"Buttercup, why didn't you tell me all this before?" Blossom asked, now genuinely concerned. Looking at Buttercup now, lying in the snow with just her green sleeping gown, shivering miserably from the cold with her bob cut a mess, she couldn't help but to pity her. "You could have told me - we didn't need to fight."

"I didn't think you'd understand," Buttercup cried.

"Oh, Buttercup..." Blossom cried with her. She pulled her sister into a hug, then helped her up. "We're a family, I would have tried to understand."

"Please don't tell Dad about this. I'll do anything-" Buttercup pleaded, still feeling awed by what had happened just now - it wasn't everyday that a family member could suddenly fly, even if the three of them were enhanced far beyond human capabilities.

"I won't tell, but I need you to listen to me - we need to stop fighting each other, okay?" Blossom said.

"Promise?" Buttercup said.

"Promise."

"Yes, Blossom," Buttercup agreed, and quite readily too - it felt like the only way out. "Anything you say."

"Did I hurt you?" Blossom asked, suddenly realizing that her crash into Buttercup might have done something. "I'm sorry I kicked you - and flew into you and..."

"My head hurts," Buttercup said. She felt the back of her head, and withdrew her hand, only to see blood. Blossom saw it too.

"Buttercup!" Blossom exclaimed in shock. She tugged her sister towards the house, with her arms around her torso. "We have to tell Dad about this!"

"No!" Buttercup went the other way, trying to pull herself away from the House, but she was hurt and weak, and Blossom, stronger. "You promised! You promised not to tell!"

"I'm not going to tell, Buttercup! I'm just going to-"

"Tell me about what?" came a masculine voice from ahead of them. It could only be Professor Utonium. He flicked a switch in the living room, lighting up the place, casting white light on the backyard and the Girls.

"Dad!" Blossom and Buttercup shouted in unison.

"Well, I- urm- I was in the backyard and-" Blossom struggled to speak, paralyzed by too many choices, too many possible ways to save or not save Buttercup. She looked over at Buttercup, who was begging with her eyes, those despairing eyes, not to tell.

"Is that blood?" Selicia came up behind the professor and said. She had seen Buttercup's hands, how bloody one of them are. One of Blossom's hand was bloody too, from touching Buttercup's hair. "Blossom! What did you do!?"

"I didn't do anything!" Blossom insisted. Buttercup, by force of habit, thought she had a chance there to turn the tables on Blossom. All she had to do was to lie about the blood and how Blossom had attacked her. Mommy would defend her, and bring Daddy to her side.

But she did not. There was something else she wanted now, something in Blossom. Her ability to fly had both awed and fascinated her. Buttercup wanted to fly too, and if Blossom could do it, why not her? Blossom could teach her how to do it. Not only would it be fun, it would be good for beating baddies. She wanted to inflict the same kind of pain that Blossom had accidentally done her.

But there was more than that. Something foreign in her. This 'love'. 'Sisterly love'. Could she really love Blossom the same way she loved Mom and Dad? In truth, Buttercup did not quite understand what love even was. Her closest understanding of it was 'when two people do good things for each other' or even 'when a person is beneficial to her'.

"It wasn't Blossom's fault, Mom," Buttercup said. Blossom looked at her, surprised, but the gesture from the normally subversive tomboy managed to coax a faint, hard-earned smile from her.

"We were in the backyard because… we discovered something, Dad," Blossom finally managed to come up with a story. "I couldn't control it and we got hurt."

"Control what, Blossom?" the professor bent down, bringing him to the level of his red-haired little girl, both afraid and fascinated of the unknown.

"Dad, I can fly," Blossom said curtly, as if it was a shameful, wrong thing. After all, no one else could fly. She was the odd one out, just like how she and her sisters had no belly buttons.

"Come again?" the professor asked, unable to believe what he heard. He thought he heard it wrong, or misinterpreted what Blossom had said.

"I can fly, Dad," Blossom repeated herself. She tried to recreate what she had done in the backyard - remembering how trapped she felt, how going up was the only way out, remember the odd feeling that she had an extension of herself, pushing her up.

Sure enough, she levitated off the ground, such that Professor Utonium had to stand up to get to the same eye level at her.

"This is unprecedented…" the professor said, his jaw slack. He rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming - but Blossom remained hovering, bobbing up and down.

He had to wonder, too, if they would be sleeping at all tonight.

Chapter Text

A/N: Hi guys, this came out a little shoddy yesterday, but now it's been edited again. There should be less grammar mistakes now.

Flight Trial 12171988 Video Transcript

DOC: 17 DEC 1988.

The following transcript has been prepared by administration to complement the Flight Trial 12171988 Video Transcript, both for reference and archival.

-TRANSCRIPT START-

Timestamp: 0137

(We see Agent Utonium's face close up to the camera as he adjusts the lenses. He stands up, disappears, and adjusts the angle of the camera, then points it at a staging area in the middle of The House's lab. The camera cuts)

(The camera is recording once more. He moves two chairs up to the desk the camera is placed on. He goes off camera)

Field Researcher Utonium: (off-screen) Blossom!

B-47 (Blossom): Coming Daddy!

(Field Researcher Utonium reappears on camera)

Field Researcher Utonium: For the sake of keeping records, I'll be conducting an interview first, before I move on to the tests. The tests will consist of a full scan of the energy, if any, emitted from Blossom as she attempts again to fly. (Blossom comes up next to him and wraps herself around his legs. Only her head, up to the nose, could be seen on-camera. Utonium rests a hand on her shoulder) We'll then move on to a 'flight trial', to see the extent of Blossom's ability to fly, or if it is even flying, instead of… hovering or… something else.

(The camera is cut before it is activated again. Blossom is seated to the left while Field Researcher Utonium is seated to the right.)

Field Researcher Utonium: How are you feeling, Blossom? Did that ice pack help with your aching shoulder?

B-47 (Blossom): It did, Dad. I'm feeling a lot better. Thanks.

Field Researcher Utonium: Good. Er- How did you hurt your shoulder again?

B-47 (Blossom): I- I- urm- (hesitates) I flew into… the ground, Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: It's okay, Blossom, there's no need to be embarrassed over it. It was your first time flying- or hovering- I'll have to get the term straight.

B-47 (Blossom): I was flying, Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: (laughs and strokes Blossom in the head) Yes you are, Blossom. How did it feel like?

B-47 (Blossom): It was… It felt good, Dad. I was like a bird and… I feel like I can do anything.

Field Researcher Utonium: That's great. But what did you feel? We're there itches all around your body? Tingling? Was it painful to do it? Or does it feel… Pleasurable?

B-47 (Blossom): What's pleasurable?

Field Researcher Utonium: Like eating an ice cream or resting in bed after a hard day's work, or taking a hot bath after being out in the snow for the whole day.

B-47 (Blossom): Oh… It was hard at first…

Field Researcher Utonium: What do you mean?

B-47 (Blossom): It was like lifting our car, but it got easier when I went up.

Field Researcher Utonium: I think I understand.

B-47 (Blossom): I felt as though… Promise not to laugh at me, Dad?

Field Researcher Utonium: I promise, Blossom. What is it?

B-47 (Blossom): It felt like I had… another arm or a leg that helps me to fly… or wings on my feet… or- I don't know how to describe it.

Field Researcher Utonium: Huh. Interesting. (Puts a hand on his chin and strokes it) And those wings, did they push you up or pull you up?

B-47 (Blossom): I don't know… Both?

Field Researcher Utonium: Hmm. Okay. Did you feel heat under your feet or anywhere on your body?

B-47 (Blossom): No, Dad. I was a little cold because I was in the backyard.

Field Researcher Utonium: Does flying make you sick in any way? Was there radiation – urm – I mean, nevermind. Does it make you feel sick?

B-47 (Blossom): No…

Field Researcher Utonium: I see. That's good. Honey, why don't you go up to your room and change into your armor? I'll be waiting down here. Try not to wake Bubbles. (Blossom gets off her chair)

B-47 (Blossom): Yes, Dad. (Walks out of camera perspective)

Field Researcher Utonium: Love you.

B-47 (Blossom): (off-screen) Love you too, Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: (Writes on a clipboard with a form) Summary and hypothesis. It's not clear, at least from Blossom's perspective, how she has achieved flight or hovering. All I can understand is that there's a force she's exerting to put her into the air. We're unsure of the nature of it, and unlike how conventional propulsion works – like fossil-fuel based combustion, whether in a car or a jet, there is no apparent waste of energy from a conversion of energy from fuel to heat or kinetic sound energy – I dearly hope that includes all forms of radiation or Selicia and I would be contaminated and our health compromised.

My hypothesis is that this, as usual, has something to do with Chemical X, and the energy necessary to achieve flight is taken from the chemical itself – I know for sure that Chemical X has massive stores of energy that no other substance in the universe could match, so this seems reasonable. But how, I'm not sure... This energy is emitted from several or every part of her body as both a push and pull force, allowing stable flight or hovering. It's also possible that it is highly efficient with little to no waste of energy.

B-48 (Buttercup): (comes into camera field of view, scratching the back of her head) Dad, my head itches.

Field Researcher Utonium: Don't scratch it, Buttercup, or it'd get worse!

(Agent Utonium reaches for the camera to turn it off. When it is turned on again, we see him and Blossom a distance from it, about 30 feet away from the desk. B-47 is dressed in its SWAT outfit, without weapons.)

Field Researcher Utonium: (to B-47, with a clipboard in hand) Okay, Blossom, I want you to try floating up.

B-47 (Blossom): (Concentrates hard, with hands clenched in fists. When that did not work she tried jumping several times, only to come back down each time. Finally, she Concentrates with arched brows again, resulting in her lifting off the ground, slowly, achieving a flying height of two feet. But it does not stop there as she keeps rising) Dad!

Field Researcher Utonium: You can stop rising now!

B-47 (Blossom): I don't know how! Dad! I'm scared! (achieves height of 8 feet)

Field Researcher Utonium: Think, Blossom! What did you do to get down!

B-47 (Blossom): (she swings her legs back in a 360 degrees swing, but fails to get down. She desperately paddles with her hands, but it does little except wildly change her pitch, roll and yaw.) Dad!

Field Researcher Utonium: Blossom, I have a hunch. You need to calm down! You're in control! Just… relax!

B-47 (Blossom): I'm trying, Dad! (she puts a leg up as if stepping on a rock. This ceased her ascent. She hovers at about 12 feet)

Field Researcher Utonium: Okay, keep yourself relaxed, and look down. Reach for the ground with your 'wings'.

B-47 (Blossom): I'll try, Dad. (with a clear look of anxiety on her face, Blossom follows Agent Utonium's instructions. Slowly, she drifts downwards until she is able to land on her feet. When she does, she runs to Utonium's side, wrapping her arms around his legs, not letting go. She appears to be crying. Field Researcher Utonium puts his hand on her helmet as a gesture of affection and comfort.)

Field Researcher Utonium: There, there, Blossom. You're fine now, it wasn't bad – you were in control all the time. (He gently nudges her to let go, but she wouldn't. Agent Utonium laughs) How about if I carry you? I need to do something, Blossom. (Blossom lets go and stretches her hands out to be taken by her 'father'. With difficulty due to the weight of Blossom's armor, Utonium heaves the subject up into his arms. She puts her arms around his neck and legs around his waist. With difficulty, he walks over to the camera. We can hear sniffling as he approaches it. He puts an arm over the camera. The recording is cut here.)

(When the camera has been switched on again, we see Blossom already hovering in place, at a height that puts her a head higher than Agent Utonium, much more exuberant than before. Professor Utonium has put a trolley filled with instruments beside him.

Field Researcher Utonium: I'm going to conduct some tests, Blossom. Don't be alarmed. (He picks up a small bar of steel and holds it close to Blossom.) Hmm… No sign of magnetism. (He presses the bar of steel gently on Blossom's calf before withdrawing it. Finally, he pulls up a leg of Blossom's military trousers just above the boot and presses the bar of steel against her calf again. He lets go of the steel, which dropped to the ground) Definitely no magnetism there.

(Next, he picks up a camera-like device and switches it on. He waits for it to boot)

B-47 (Blossom): (As she is bobbing up and down in a stationary hovering position) What is that, Dad? Is it going to hurt?

Field Researcher Utonium: (laughs) No, it won't, rosebud. It's just a camera, except it helps me to see how hot something is. (He holds it up and scans Blossom's legs) Huh. No heat. (He places his hand on Blossom's calf.) Feels normal to me. (He scans the rest of Blossom's body) No heat exhaust anywhere.

(Field Researcher Utonium returns the infrared camera to the trolley and picks up a yellow object with a digital readout. He pulls out a sensor by a handle, connected to the device by a cord, and points it at Blossom's feet. Blossom looks troubled. The professor looks at her eye-to-eye)

Don't worry, this won't hurt either. It's for measuring something called 'radiation'.

(He switches on the device, and it starts beeping, but barely. He hovers the sensor over Blossom's calves, then knees, then body and head, but there is almost no beeping.)

Hmm. No radioactive emissions at all - of any kind. That means Selicia and I are safe.

B-47 (Blossom): What's 'ra-dio-tion', Dad?

Field Researcher Utonium: (as he is looking at the Geiger counter) It's radiation, Blossom. It's like light, but you can't see it.

B-47 (Blossom): Oh.

(Field Researcher Utonium returns the Geiger counter back to the trolley. He picks up what appears to be an ammeter, top lab-grade. He balances the meter between his hip and elbow, and handles the two pliers attached to it by the rubbery handles.)

B-47 (Blossom): Will this one hurt?

Field Researcher Utonium: No, definitely not. (He then presses both pliers against Blossom's exposed calf. Blossom winces and shrinks away from it, but stops after the pliers touch her, indicating that she feels no pain. The professor glances at the needle on the Ammeter.) No electrical discharges.

(Professor Utonium returns the Ammeter to the trolley and reaches for a device that looks like a mic, but with a digital readout. He points it at Blossom's feet)

B-47 (Blossom): What is that?

Field Researcher Utonium: Shh. (He looks at the digital readout, shaking his head. He moves it up Blossom's body.) Negative on noise discharge.

(He returns the noise reader back to the trolley, then picks up a photometer.)

Field Researcher Utonium: Selicia honey, do you mind switching off the lights?

(The lab is plunged into darkness soon. Only Blossom's glowing pink eyes are visible against the pitch-blackness, as well as a very faint pink glow around the lower half of her body.)

B-48 (Buttercup): This is cool!

Field Researcher Utonium: Interesting. It appears that you're discharging - which means giving out - light, Blossom. Just trace amounts. Not even 50 Lumens.

B-47 (Blossom): Like an angel?

Field Researcher Utonium: (laughs) Like an angel, sweetheart. My angel. Could you get the lights again, Selicia?

(The light is switched back on, and we see Blossom and Agent Utonium smiling at each other. The professor then walks over to the camera before switching it off. When it is switched on again, Blossom is standing on what appears to be a 'starting line' made with yellow tape. A 'finishing line' made with red tape is about 20 feet away.)

Field Researcher Utonium: (while holding clipboard and stopwatch) Are you sure you're up to this, Blossom? Aren't you tired?

B-47 (Blossom): Just a little, Dad. I'll be fine - you taught me not to be afraid of flying.

Field Researcher Utonium: No problem, honey. Could you fly to the finish line for me? Whenever you're ready.

B-47 (Blossom): Yes, Dad. (she faces forward with an intense look on her face, licking her upper lip. She floats upwards to a height of 6 feet. Putting up her hands at waist level with her palms facing the floor, she gently kicks her feet back and faces her palm slightly towards the back. She starts forward unsteadily and lazily, her flight path meandering from left to right as she bobs up and down. She is able to progress 5 feet before her path zigzags wildly.) I can't control it, Dad!

Field Researcher Utonium: Don't panic, angel - you're in control!

B-47 (Blossom): I can't! (she flails her arms and legs wildly, and accidentally launches herself towards the ground at high speed, skidding along the rest of the way, before rolling far beyond the the finish line) Ouch…

(the footage cuts. Selicia is likely behind the camera. When it returns, Blossom is back at the starting line. She starts forward again, but this time, she couldn't even make 3 feet without losing control and falling on her butt as she panics and swings her legs forward. The footage cuts again, before Blossom is, once again, back to the starting line. Again, she pushes her feet back and raises her hands to waist level, palms down. This time, she is able to make 5 feet on a nearly stable flight path, but begins to bob and meander haphazardly in the next few feet. She goes too far off course, attempts to course-correct, but accidentally rolls sideways. She panics again and accidentally launches herself into the ground, shoulder-first.)

B-47 (Blossom): Dad, this is impossible. (her tone seems upset. Agent Utonium comes up next to her to help her up to her feet)

Field Researcher Utonium: It's not, Blossom. You just have to keep trying.

B-47 (Blossom): But I've already tried so many times! (clearly upset)

Field Researcher Utonium: (Gets down on a knee) Darling, do you remember our first week together? When it was just the four of us?

B-47 (Blossom): Yeah, those were the best days of my life.

Field Researcher Utonium: Was it? You kept falling down, for days, when you were learning how to walk.

B-47 (Blossom): I couldn't even speak, Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: And now you're saying words like 'impossible'. (he laughs) I remember how you first pronounced your name. 'Blue-som'.

B-47 (Blossom): (laughs)

Fields Researcher Utonium: See? It's not so bad now is it? We fall, Blossom, so we can learn to pick ourselves up. That's how you learned to walk, dear, then you began to jog, and you ran - my, how you ran. My car would die trying to catch up with you. Blossom, you can do this. I know you can.

B-47 (Blossom): (smiles) Thanks, Dad. I'll keep trying.

Fields Researcher Utonium: Perhaps a few more time. It's way, way past bedtime, and we've got something special tomorrow. (He motions for Selicia to stop the camera.)

(When the footage returns, Blossom is back on the starting line. She floats up to a height of 8 feet, taking the same stance. She kicks her feet back and spreads her arms a little wider, hands at waist level, palms facing diagonally to the back. She begins moving forward, somewhat quickly, reaching 5 feet somewhat smoothly. But something happens and her path starts to deviate from 5 to 8 feet. She tries to correct it, but she starts rolling clockwise to the right. Alarmed, she lands before she falls.)

B-47 (Blossom): I'm sorry, Dad. Can I try again?

Field Researcher Utonium: Of course. Good job saving yourself, dear. You're doing fine.

(Blossom returns to the starting line, then hovers in place again. She takes the usual pose, and starts forward. 5 feet. 6 feet. 7 feet, smoothly so far. She starts wobbling, her hands and feet moving to compensate, but barely able to. She does something different to compensate. She puts up her right leg, as if stepping on a rock. She stabilizes immediately. She continues forward, right leg still up. 8 feet, 9 feet, 10 feet. She speeds up, reaching 12 feet, then 15 feet, then 20 feet. She lands on the finish line.)

B-48 (Buttercup): You did it, Blossom! That was wicked!

B-47 (Blossom): I did it! Dad, I did it!

Field Researcher Utonium: That's remarkable, Blossom! (walks up to her. 'Father' and 'daughter' shares a hug) I knew you'll come through! How did you do it, anyway?

B-47 (Blossom): I remember kicking the tree in the backyard, and when I did, I didn't lose control. I remember doing that earlier, too, and I didn't fall. So I tried it again, and it worked!

(B-48, otherwise known as Buttercup, enters the Field of View of the camera.)

B-48 (Buttercup): Hey Dad, can you teach me how to fly?

Field Researcher Utonium: (Laughs) An interesting idea! But I think Blossom here will be teaching you instead. (He motions for the camera to be cut. The footage stops, and when it resumes again, Blossom and Buttercup are speaking, in the middle of the flat, empty area. Blossom demonstrates a lift-off. Buttercup tries to do the same thing, jumping up and down on the spot when standing still does not help.)

B-48 (Buttercup): I don't understand…

B-47 (Blossom): (Yawns) I'm tired. Can I teach you tomorrow, Buttercup?

B-48 (Buttercup): (Infected with yawn.) Come to think of it… I'm tired too. (Yawns.)

(the camera cuts, and when it resumes again, we see Professor Utonium and Blossom sitting down behind the desk the camera is placed on.)

Field Researcher Utonium: So, Blossom, can you tell me about how you fly? From the starting line to the finish line?

B-47 (Blossom): I would love to, Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: Tell me again how you lift off, Blossom.

B-47 (Blossom): Well, it's like… flexing my arm, except it's all around me… Like flapping wings that aren't there, but I can feel it, and I needed to put in lots of effort to do it. It's getting easier, though.

Field Researcher Utonium: How did you move forward?

B-47 (Blossom): I don't know… It's as if I could control it with my arms and legs, but not really. I was also controlling it with my… 'wings'. I don't know what to call it. I had to push myself forward with arms and legs and 'wings', Dad.

Field Researcher Utonium: Hmm. (pens down a few things on a clipboard) I see. Well, I think it's time for bed, Blossom. Selicia, do you mind taking the Girls upstairs?

Sergeant Selicia Goodwin: Sure thing, dear. Will you be coming up soon?

Field Researcher Utonium: I won't be long, Selicia. I just need to clear something up.

(Blossom gets off the chair. Selicia walks by her and takes her by the hand. They walk out of the FOV of the camera. Professor Utonium watches them leave.

Field Researcher Utonium: In summary, Blossom appears to have gained an incredibly efficient mode of propulsion. While the limit of its output hasn't been tested yet - though it could be quite high considering the speed she had accidentally launched herself into - I have been able to establish that it indeed currently wastes very little energy. A small amount of it - which equates to a tiny LED bulb's worth of wastage, is discharged as exhaust in the form of light. Good thing too - pollution of any form isn't a concern.

How Blossom is able to control her flight is still largely a mystery. She describes phantom limbs, but that could be due to her inability to accurately describe sensations. I have been observing her during flight. Her actual limbs seem to play a part in some of the finer controls. It is possible that some of the force emitted from her body comes from her arms and legs, and by manipulating them, she is able to move in certain directions. How the energy output and speed is determined, however, I'm not very sure. Mood could play a part. She might even be willing it. But that might not be entirely possible - she accidentally accelerated herself into the ground. It could be a combination of everything.

I will need to investigate further. I will have to establish her maximum speed, flight height and how her control and speed works. I will also need to determine the nature of her propulsion. I have yet to establish if it is even flight - again - the test I've set is inconclusive as Blossom will have to develop this ability further first before I can truly determine this. I was hesitant to make her float too high due to her lack of flight hours. I have yet to determine its method - is it anti-gravity? Some kind of organic reactionless drive? Or something else entirely unexplored by the human mind?

In any case, I won't be finding out tonight. (Yawns) Perhaps in my dreams, maybe. I will draw up some lab experiments tomorrow or the day after to yield these data in the future.

- TRANSCRIPT END -

Chapter Text

Chapter 53: Flops

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 0948.

"So what are we going to do today, Dad?" Buttercup asked her Daddy impatiently as she was sitting on a stool, her scalp under some bright light. Selicia was sitting beside her, holding her hand. Professor Utonium sat behind Buttercup, hunched over her head with scissors and tweezers. He had been examining the wound, and the results were profound - it had only been a night, and there wasn't even a scar present at all. He started cutting the surgical threads, and pulling at them. "Ow!"

"It's going to be a surprise. It's more fun that way," the professor simply said as he began pulling at more threads.

"Ow! I hate - ow! Surprises!" Buttercup said in between winces as the professor pulled out even more threads. He had already done the same with Blossom's forehead earlier, but her case was milder, with fewer stitches to remove. It was all the same. The wound was gone within the night, and the same went for their bruises, which likely disappeared even faster.

"Oh, come now, Buttercup," the professor simply said.

"You get to guess what it is along the way," Selicia added, "Just like how you can guess what I have cooking in the oven."

"Are we - ow! Going to the - ow! Arcade?" Buttercup guessed.

"Maybe," the professor teased.

"Careful, Tommy dear, you might kill her with the anticipation," Selicia laughed, and so did Professor Utonium.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1041.

When breakfast was over, the Girls went right to training, with Blossom serving as her siblings' flight instructor. Bubbles was brought up to speed about flying, and she was thrilled - after all, she had always wanted to fly like a Pegasus in those cartoons she kept watching.

"Like this!" Blossom said as she kicked off from the lawn into a hover, a few feet off the ground. There, she bobbed in the air, but she was otherwise stable despite the heavy SWAT gear she had donned for safety. Her sisters were similarly dressed. Bubbles stared at her wide-eyed, her jaw dropped. The feat had commanded Buttercup's attention as it had before at midnight, and she stared at Blossom hungrily, coveting her ability for herself. It would be cool if she could fly, and deliver kicks and punches from above.

Blossom had been demonstrating flight to her sisters as she tried to teach them how to do it. She'd been having no such luck so far. It was the third time she had repeated her explanations, as esoteric as her descriptions were childish, and it was the third time she had shown them the trick, but to no luck.

Bubbles and Buttercup jumped - they were able to leap far above their height, eight or nine feet into the air, with no effort, but they couldn't stay in the air.

"No, no, no!" Blossom exclaimed, a little exasperated. "You're not supposed to use your legs and jump, Bubbles, Buttercup! Remember how you slow down before you land? Use the 'wings' that helped you do that!"

After landing, Bubbles and Buttercup concentrated on the feeling of slowing down they had felt. Neither of them rose into the air like Blossom did.

"It's not working!" Bubbles said. "I really wish I can fly like you."

"Arghhhhhh!" Buttercup screamed in frustration. "I'm sick of this! I wanna fly! Like whoosh! Zoom! And hit some bad guys with it!"

On the street, Agent Blake and his detail at the speed transports were standing outside their vehicles, looking at them. They'd been looking at Blossom ever since she started training her sisters, and they still couldn't believe their eyes. How on earth could anyone, or anything, fly without wings? Even if she's enhanced by Chemical X? It was like witnessing the laws of physics breaking down right before their eyes.

"Well, shouting about it isn't going to help you, Buttercup!" Blossom chided, but not harshly. "And wishing about it doesn't help either. If only there's a better way…" Blossom looked at the House, thinking. What would Dad do to teach them better? She went back to midnight yesterday, how Daddy had taught her so much, despite lacking the ability to fly, the words of wisdom he dispensed. Her eyes wandered to the roof of the building.

'Of course!' she thought. "C'mon, sisters, we're going to try something else," Blossom said. She floated towards the front door, practicing at the same time as she was travelling - her flight path was still unstable, but at least she was managing it without making a valley in the snow. It would be some time before it becomes second nature. Bubbles and Buttercup, still staring in awe at their sister, followed behind her.

"What are we going to do, Blossom?" Bubbles asked. Without replying, Blossom took her from under the arms and lifted her up as she ascended towards the roof. "Blossom!" Still, Blossom kept quiet as she ferried her baby-blue-eyed sister up to a part of the House they had visited the least.

"Stay here," Blossom said to Bubbles as she returned to the ground and did the same thing with Buttercup.

"What are we doing?" Buttercup asked the same question, if rather gruffly, when all three of them were on the roof.

"We fall so we can learn to pick ourselves up again.' That's what Daddy said," Blossom explained. Unlike them, she was floating away from the roof, more than two storey away from the lawn far below. Bubbles and Buttercup leaned over the roof, looking down at the lawn. They had never fallen from such a height before - at the warehouse, the shelves had only been two floors high. The roof was like the third floor of their house, inaccessible (at least by a normal human being) but just as high. Below, their Daddy had just came out of the front door, likely wondering where they had gone. Before their ascent to the roof, he had been watching from the living room. He turned around, and when he did, the look on his face wasn't exactly a happy one.

"Girls! What are you doing up there!" he screamed, hands on his head. He knew that the Girls could fall from floor to floor without getting hurt, but the roof of a two-floored house was something he had never seen the Girls endure before.

Blossom orientated herself in the air to face him. "We're practicing, Dad!" she replied.

"Are you sure this isn't too high!?" Professor Utonium shouted back up at her. "I don't want the three of you to get hurt!"

'Daddy's right,' Blossom thought, now worried that she might get her beloved sisters hurt. There was only one way to be sure that they wouldn't be. Hovering out of the professor's way, she aimed for the ground and let herself go, eyes closed. She dived for the snow, plummeting to the ground.

"Blossom!" Everyone shouted as she landed on the lawn in a belly flop, making a Blossom-shaped hole in it. She wasn't moving after that. Professor Utonium ran up to her, turning her over.

"Blossom!" he cried, the fear in his voice unmistakable. But Blossom's eyes were open, and there was a smile on her face.

"It hurts, Dad, but I'm fine," she said, and winced. She squirmed out of his hands, but the professor wouldn't let her go.

"Why on Earth did you do that!?" the professor scolded her. "You could've gotten hurt, or worse!"

"I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me, Dad," Blossom explained herself. "Mom said that I was a bad leader because I left Buttercup behind. I don't want to be a bad leader again." the professor seemed taken aback by what Blossom had confessed.

"She said that?" the professor pressed. "When?"

"After we came back from that awful night at the bank, Dad," Blossom said.

"Why that no-good-" the professor was about to swear, but he stopped himself when he remembered who he was with. He set Blossom down on the ground and straightened up. "You Girls keep practicing. I'm going to go have a word with your dear mother." With that, he marched back into The House, his bushy eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled into a very visible frown. Before he disappeared into The House, he stared at Agent Blake, who had advanced up to the mailbox. The security officer nodded in mutual understanding. The professor slammed the door shut when he was in, leaving Blossom to stare at the door.

"Can we go now!?" Buttercup shouted impatiently from above. Blossom looked up at them, still unsure if she should subject her sisters to such a training regime. She kicked off the ground and floated towards them, taking care to keep herself upright with her hands and feet.

Inside, the professor marched into the kitchen, where Selicia was baking some cookies for the Girls. She was wearing an apron and mittens, and she looked awkward in them, the culinary garment out-of-place on her. The oven's bell had just rung, and she opened the lid to remove a tray with fifteen large cookies made in the style of Bubbles' drawing of the Girls, or at least the huge heads that they had in that universe. There were five of each Girls.

"Selicia!" Professor Utonium shouted as he crossed the threshold into the kitchen. She had just set down the tray when the professor grabbed her by the upper arm.

"Thomas!" Selicia exclaimed in surprise as she turned around. "What's with the shouting? Are you here for the cookie?"

"Blossom told me about what you said, Selicia," the professor shouted. "She doesn't need that kind of shite when she's a kid doing an adult's job! You ever thought about that!?"

The professor's grip was startlingly strong when he was furious, so much so that even Selicia found it hard to tear herself away from.

"What did she tell you, Thomas?" Selicia asked, her voice trembling from the suddenness of it all, and fright. In her struggle, she'd knocked over the tray of cookies. It fell flat on the ground, the cookies still somehow inside, but not intact. Some of the cookies cracked, while others had crumbled completely.

"You called her a bad leader! It was her first time, God damn it! Doing a combat-trained adult's job!" Thomas shouted, practically in her face. His ferocity leaving even the seasoned security officer shaken. "Nevermind the fact that the USDO is forcing her into it! Mistreating her! Treating her like an animal, an object!"

"I was just being honest, Tommy!" Selicia cried. "Isn't that what I should do as a mom!? If I can't tell her the hard truth, who can!?"

The professor shoved her back to her counter. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? I've seen the way you looked at Blossom. You don't like her, do you!? You… You hate her!" the professor snarled while pointing an accusing index finger at her. For some reason, it gave Selicia the impression of a mad scientist, too passionate about his work and willing to do anything for it.

Meanwhile, at the window, Bubbles fell unnoticed, followed by Buttercup, the sound of their screams and crash muted by the glass and wall.

"Thomas! No!" Selicia gasped.

"Don't Thomas me! What is it, then!?" Thomas demanded.

"Hate is too strong a word - I don't hate Blossom, I just-" Selicia defended herself. She stopped, deciding on her next words carefully. "I just- I guess I just find it hard to like her. Buttercup, on the other hand-"

"You're playing favorites!?" the professor yelled at her.

"Stop shouting at me!" Selicia pleaded, before going on to explain things. "I just- I can't help it. I just feel more for Buttercup, and Blossom, she - I'm trying, okay? I'm trying to be fair to her even though-"

"Well, try harder next time," the professor said coldly. He considered Selicia's words, whether he had forgiven her one too many times. The fact that, at the very least, she was very close to at least one of them was a card in her favor. He looked down at the tray of freshly-baked cookies on the floor. Oval heads with huge, insect-like eyes with red, green and blue frosting mimicking the eye colors of the three girls. Some of the cartoon faces were cracked or crumbled. He actually felt sorry that he had destroyed some of her work, confectionery that she had made for all three of them. All three of them. He decided, then, that there was some truth to Selicia's fairness.

In the meantime, Blossom had just flown down by the window to join her sisters, who were just standing up, clutching their heads in agony. Blossom carried Buttercup up again, then Bubbles, reminiscent of what a mother bird would do to get her chicks to attain flight.

"Selicia, please, the Girls, they're suffering - you should know that after the warehouse!" the professor said, his tone changing to one of desperation - he was their father, and he was meant to be their protector, and yet he felt completely helpless in aiding them, even a little. "They don't need trouble back at home on top of that."

"Thomas, I know. Trust me, I know…" the security officer said as she bent down and picked up the tray of cookies. "I'm trying."

"I'm sorry," Thomas apologized, realizing that he might have gone too far himself.

"Don't be," Selicia said. "You were right to call me out for it. I saw how it was at the warehouse. Blossom and Buttercup… They were both beaten up pretty bad. I had Blossom in my arms when we were in the car. She's a real magic girl, you know that? Right then and there, I felt like her real mother, like never before. At the end of the day, despite our differences, she's just a kid after all, who needs love. She reminded me of that."

"I just hope you don't need to be reminded again," Thomas sniped coldly. He made to leave the kitchen, but Selicia took him by the shoulder.

"Thomas, wait. Does it affect… You know, what's between us?" she asked. The professor had to stop to think about it, finding himself divided.

"No, not that there's much between us," he said. "But only because we need to get along for the Girls."

"But we can. I'm really sorry about what I said to Blossom. I thought I was doing her some good," Selicia said.

"We'll talk when the Girls and I get back home," the professor said, before he left the kitchen, and made his way towards his room.

Selicia breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been worse, and there were silver linings to this storm. It'd gotten something out of her mind, her past sins. And she had just convinced herself that she love Blossom more than she originally did - half of what she said about her feelings towards the little know-it-all had been a performance, but now that she thought about it, it was too good a performance. She had lied using the truth, and ended up unearthing feelings and thoughts she never realized she had before. 'Did Blossom really put a spell on me?' she found herself wondering.

Outside, Bubbles stood on the edge of the roof, unable to bring herself to drop down again. "Come on, Bubbles! I want to go too!" Buttercup chided impatiently behind her. Blossom egged her on as she continued floating near the roof, unsteady every time she lose too much focus - she'd correct her drift and orientation whenever it happened.

"But what if I hit the lawn again!?" Bubbles cried in a high-pitched voice.

"So try to fly before that happens! Remember that feeling before you land! It's your 'wings', Bubbles," Blossom instructed her again. But she would no jump off. Being impatient, Buttercup kicked her in the small of Bubbles' back, sending her plummeting to the ground.

"Buttercup!" Blossom scolded, but it was too late. Bubbles fell, screaming, flapping her arms as if a bird hatchling, trying to fly. Blossom watched with an eye covered.

But just when Bubbles was about to hit the lawn, she glided up, having reversed directions only briefly before falling back down again, sliding on the snow, forming a trail a few yards long. Buttercup, on seeing the progress Bubbles had made, jumped. She screwed up her face in concentration, trying to do the same thing Bubbles did, but she plopped into the snow, unmoving. Pain had shot up everywhere in her body, and as she landed on her belly, could not slow the descent as well.

Blossom floated down and landed near Bubbles, who was sitting up. "Bubbles! You did it!"

"I did?" Bubbles questioned both her sister and herself. It had all happened too fast that she couldn't process it. It all came back to her in tiny packets of memory. "I guess I did!"

Buttercup moaned not far away as she rubbed her head, still dizzy from the fall. Blossom trudged up to her wayward sister. "Buttercup! That was mean of you!" Blossom pulled Buttercup up to her feet, not to help but, but just so that she could be in her face.

"But- But- She wouldn't go! And she had to jump! She-" Buttercup spluttered, trying to explain herself. She had hoped that Blossom did not see.

"No, Buttercup! Apologize to Bubbles!" Blossom ordered, pointing at Bubbles, who had just stood up, looking at them.

"But-" Buttercup tried again to defend herself.

"Now, Buttercup!" Blossom reiterated her order. Buttercup considered her options - the day before, she'd promised not to tell on her, and now she had still yet to learn how to fly from her. She could rescind her offer - both to keep her little secret and teach her flight - at any time. Then there was that odd little feeling in her heart too, that foreign invader. She hated to admit it, but Blossom had put her in a bit of a bind.

"Yes… Blossom…" Buttercup finally said, her back hunched as she walked towards Bubbles, her eyes closed in shame, but she was more ashamed that she had been reduced to a subservient position below Blossom, when she had been so close to subduing her last night. Before Bubbles, who looked on with a confusion of moods, she apologized: "Hey, Bubbles, it was mean of me to kick you off the House. I'm s-" It was hard for Buttercup to use the 's' word. "I'm s- s- s-"

Blossom came up to Buttercup and gave her a shadow nudge. "I'm s- s-sorry." Buttercup had finally managed it with titanic difficulty.

"Aw, Buttercup, it's fine," Bubbles accepted her apology immediately, an innocent smile spread across her face instantly. She gave Buttercup a hug after that, a gesture which froze her harder than the winter did. "It's nice of you to apologize."

Training did not last long after that. Blossom had tried to get Bubbles to repeat what she had done earlier, or even surpass it, but she had done a belly flop on the snow again, much to Blossom's perplexity. Buttercup made no progress, and planted her face in the snow once more. It helped that Blossom had built snow mounds for them to aim for, however, such that the experience wasn't as painful. Daddy came out after that, calling for them to come in to prepare for family time in Townsville.

Chapter Text

B-47, B-48 and B-49 Rating Update and Attached Combat Report

DOC: 17 DEC 1988

Updated: 17 DEC 1988

Created by: CFO Silverslick

Introduction: On 17 DEC 1988, the central committee of the USDO has come together for a general meeting. On the agenda is a performance review of B-47, B-48 and B-49, which, naturally, affects their credit rating. The decisions of committee members are based on an abridged version of the combat report attached below.

Inserted note: Why do you keep calling it the 'credit rating'? The kids are military hardware, like tanks or humvees, not stock companies! - Chief of Security Blackwater

B-47 (Blossom)

Previous Rating: Double A (AA)

Votes for Rating Increase

Chief of Logistics Wiggums | Reason: Improved performance.

Medical Director Simmons | Reason: Her zero casualty policy saved lives.

Psychiatrist Alice | Reason: Level-headed under extreme circumstances.

Acting Head of Research Vanum | Reason: Good performance despite inexperience.

Townsville Liaison Bellum | Reason: Zero casualty policy supported by Mayor Wilford.

Votes for Maintaining Rating

NIL

Votes for Rating Decrease

Chief of Security Blackwater | Reason: Letting criminals go and not killing them.

Chief Armory Officer | Reason: Poor arrest procedures and neglected use of equipment.

Central Motorpool Manager | Reason: Poor use of manpower, B-48 and B-49 in particular.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard | Reason: Lack of planning and direction.

CFO Silverslick | Reason: Fell far below target, having only detained or killed (zero, precisely, in this case) a fraction of criminals.

USDO Director Cliff | Reason: Did not achieve mission objectives - few arrests, no kills, one of the three mob boss runs free.

Result: Rating decrease from Double A (AA) to Single A (A). However, USDO Director Cliff demands that her rating be decreased again due to a second mission failure in a row under her leadership. Majority agrees. Therefore, rating decreases again from Single A (A) to Triple B (BBB)

B-48 (Buttercup)

Previous Rating: Triple A (AAA)

Votes for Maintaining Rating

Chief of Logistics Wiggums | Reason: Listened to leader despite personal differences.

Medical Director Simmons | Reason: Severe injuries in targets but no deaths.

Acting Head of Research Vanum | Reason: Good performance.

Townsville Liaison Bellum | Reason: Helps maintain zero casualty policy, therefore the Mayor's support.

Central Motorpool Manager | Reason: 'Effective fighting machine'.

Votes for Rating Decrease

Psychiatrist Alice | Reason: B-48 (Buttercup) should be put under psychiatric review.

Chief of Security Blackwater | Reason: Did not disobey B-47 (Blossom) when she is wrong.

Chief Armory Officer | Reason: Poor arrest procedures.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard | Reason: Lack of tactics and adaptability.

CFO Silverslick | Reason: Did not take the initiative to achieve mission objectives on her own.

USDO Director Cliff | Reason: Did not help in achieving mission objectives.

Result: Rating decreased from Triple A (AAA) to Double A (AA).

B-49 (Bubbles)

Previous Rating: Triple D (DDD)

Votes for Rating Increase

Chief of Logistics Wiggums | Reason: Improved performance.

Votes for Maintaining Rating

Medical Director Simmons | Reason: Ethical considerations - B-49 is a child. (Voided, as B-49 is considered a non-person under USDO directive.) Unable to produce a second reason, resulting in his vote null.

Psychiatrist Alice | Reason: Recommended to freeze rating until psychiatric evaluation.

Acting Head of Research Vanum | Reason: Wait for further evidence before passing judgement.

Townsville Liaison Bellum | Reason: Losing B-49 will reduce Townsville's confidence in Project Powerpuff and USDO.

Votes for Rating Decrease

Chief of Security Blackwater | Reason: Desertion and cowardice.

Chief Armory Officer | Reason: Desertion despite good equipment.

Central Motorpool Manager | Reason: 'Spat on the effort everyone put in to put her on the field'

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard | Reason: Soft and weak.

CFO Silverslick | Reason: Complete waste of money and resources for practically no returns.

USDO Director Cliff | Reason: Absolutely did nothing for the mission.

Result: Rating decreased from Triple D (DDD) to Double D (DD)

Owing to the poor and rapidly deteriorating rating of B-49 (Bubbles), the committee has decided to vote on whether to euthanize B-49 (Bubbles).

Votes for No Actions

Chief of Logistics Wiggums | Reason: Euthanasia of B-49 will be a waste of money and resources previously invested.

Medical Director Simmons | Reason: Child euthanasia is illegal. (Note: Voided as B-49 is a non-person, not a child) New Reason: Euthanasia of B-49 is a waste of opportunity to study the body of an enhanced human being. (Note: Reason passed despite B-49 not considered a human being)

Psychiatrist Alice | Reason: Child euthanasia is wrong. (Note: Voided as B-49 is a non-person, not a child) New Reason: Euthanasia of B-49 will mean loss of opportunity to study the psychology of an enhanced human being. (Note: Reason passed despite B-49 not considered a human being)

Acting Head of Research Vanum | Reason: Despite her poor performance, B-49 is a scientific marvel to be cherished. She should at least be kept for observation and research purposes.

Townsville Liaison Bellum | Reason: Losing B-49 will reduce Townsville's confidence in Project Powerpuff and the USDO.

Chief of Security Blackwater | Reason: Soldiers should not be executed for poor performance - only chastised, punished, reconditioned, retrained, even brainwashed, but not executed.

Votes to Euthanize B-49 (Bubbles)

Chief Armory Officer | Reason: B-49 is a money and resource sink that must be rid of.

Central Motorpool Manager | Reason: Same as above.

Chief Intelligence Officer Jackard | Reason: Sensitivity of the missions necessitates her death.

CFO Silverslick | Reason: No point in investing further money and resources in a failed product.

USDO Director Cliff | Reason: Redirection of Project Powerpuff's focus to the other two subjects, and possibly other newer, more promising subjects.

Result: For the time being, owing to a majority vote for no actions to be taken, B-49 (Bubbles) will be allowed to continue law enforcement duties. The committee will convene again and vote on euthanasia if B-49's rating does not improve or deteriorates further.

USDO Combat Report 12161988-TV05

DOC: 17 DEC 1988

Updated: 22 DEC 1988

Created by: Security Captain Kate

Updated by: Chief of Security Blackwater

1st Covert Ops of Townsville Industrial Park

Introduction: In the pursuit of evidence against the 'Amoeba Boys', Dons of the Lombardi Family, and arrests of their muscles, the Townsville Police Department's very own Detective Mullens had targeted 'Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage' in the warehouse area of the Townsville Industrial Park for its known involvement with the Lombardi mafiaso as a front for storing drugs. As the TPD had requested that The Three of Project Powerpuff assist Detective Mullens in this important case, the USDO becomes involved.

Date/Time: 16 DEC 1988, 2135 - 18 DEC 1988, 2359 (including ongoing manhunt for escaping suspects)

Location: The City of Townsville. Townsville Industrial Park. Warehouse District. Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage.

|Belligerent Forces|

THE LAW

Commanders and Leaders

Police Captain Wilson (Townsville Police Department - Overall)

Detective Mullens (Townsville Police Department - Investigation)

Chief of Security Blackwater (United States Defence Organization)

B-47, Blossom Utonium (Leader of the Three of Project Powerpuff - USDO)

TOWNSVILLE LAW ENFORCEMENT

- 86 Police Officers (Police Raiding Party)

- 20 SWAT Officers (Police Raiding Party)

- 38 Police Cruisers (Police Raiding Party)

- 4 SWAT Vans (Police Raiding Party)

[106 Combatants total]

UNITED STATES DEFENCE ORGANIZATION

- 40 SWAT Operatives

- 6 Humvees

- 4 Unmarked Armored SUVs

[40 Combatants total]

PROJECT POWERPUFF AND SUPPORT PERSONNEL

- 10 Powerpuff Task Force Soldiers

- 1 SWAT Operative

- B-47 (Blossom)

- B-48 (Buttercup)

- B-49 (Bubbles)

- 3 Lamborghini Speed Transports

[11 Combatants, 3 Organic Law Enforcement Platforms total]

CRIME

Commanders and Leaders

Don Ethan 'Junior' Ricci (Lombardi Mafia Family)

Capo Gabriele Gallo (Lombardi Mafia Family)

Foreman Jack Steele (Indentured Associates)

LOMBARDI MAFIA FAMILY

- 20 Mafia Soldato

- 10 Regular Associates

- 10 Indentured Associates

- 8 Vehicles (of various classes)

[40 Combatants total]

|Casualties and Losses|

THE CITY OF TOWNSVILLE

- 1 Unarmed Civilians Civilian KIA, 6 injured, 1 severely injured

[1 KIA, 6 injured, 1 severely injured]

TOWNSVILLE LAW ENFORCEMENT

- 5 Police Officers injured, 1 severely injured

- 1 SWAT Officer injured

- 3 Police Cruisers damaged

[ 6 injured, 1 severely injured]

UNITED STATES DEFENCE ORGANIZATION

- 1 SWAT Operative KIA, 1 injured, 1 severely injured

[1 KIA, 1 injured, 1 severely injured]

PROJECT POWERPUFF AND SUPPORT PERSONNEL

- B-47 (Blossom) injured

- B-48 (Buttercup) injured

- B-49 (Bubbles) uninjured with equipment damage

[2 injured]

LOMBARDI MAFIA FAMILY

- 8 Mafia Soldato captured, 6 injured, 1 severely injured

- 3 Regular Associates captured, 3 injured

- 4 Indentured Associates captured, 1 injured, 1 severely injured

- 2 Vehicles damaged

[15 captured, 10 injured, 2 severely injured]

Background - Planning the Raid

After receiving a tip-off from an informant, Detective Mullens organized a raid on Doc Bob's Pharmaceutical Storage with the purpose of securing more evidence to build a case against the Lombardi Mafiaso. The ultimate goal of the raid was to catch one of the Dons on the crime scene, which would incriminate him with no chance of an alibi protecting him or allowing the use of plausible deniability.

However, in order to protect himself, Detective Mullens had decided to go for a less direct approach on the raid, with police officers working with him forming a loose net around the target warehouse. He contacted the USDO to form the direct raiding party instead, so that the Lombardi's eye would be focused on the USDO and not the TPD instead.

This naturally involves The Three of Project Powerpuff, as they are unlikely to die even from a hail of sustained bullets, and they have been trained in counter-terrorism operations, which should improve their performance.

Composition of Lombardi Mafia Forces

The drug front was considered to be the back end of mob operations, and was thus lightly guarded. Only 50% of the muscle there were actual initiated members of the Family, with the rest merely associates, and the number present was considered higher than before, raised only because Don Ethan 'Junior' Ricci was rumored to be visiting.

The Caporegime, Gabrielle Gallo, is a seasoned member of the Lombardi.

Joint TPD-USDO-Project Powerpuff Deployment Plan

All police units are deployed loosely in a wide area and staggered to appear less like a cohesive force. SWAT units are hidden from the open. The reason for this is to make it appear less like a raid and more like coincidence. However, they were deployed such that all possible routes away from the target warehouse were covered. Only two police officers were present near the warehouse - Detective Mullens and Patrolwoman Olivia, under cover of darkness and behind closed doors.

The USDO were allowed to deploy closer to the the warehouse, as the vanguard raiding party, with B-47 (Blossom), B-48 (Buttercup) and B-49 (Bubbles) put at the very front.

The Three of Project Powerpuff were deployed with their PTF escort shepherding them to the warehouse so that they could enter without alerting the Lombardi forces present at the site.

Order of Battle

- The Three, lead by B-47 (Blossom), entered through a hole made by B-49 (Bubbles) in the fence. They sneaked past the guards patrolling the perimeter.

- B-47 (Blossom) chose a backdoor as her point of entry. B-48 (Buttercup) knocks out the guard to cover their tracks.

- B-47 (Blossom) set up an ambush for 9 of the Lombardi muscles within the warehouse, with B-47 and B-49 on the shelves above and B-48 baiting them with noise at the back. The ambush was a success, resulting in all enemy combatants incapacitated.

- They were unable to hide them effectively however, nor restrain them at all due to lack of time and equipment. The absence of the 9 muscles prompted a search by the Capo of the warehouse, Gabriele Gallo.

- Capo Gabriele Gallo was able to organize a search before B-47 (Blossom) was ready, resulting in poor concealment of both incapacitated guards and workers, and positioning.

- Capo Gabriele Gallo saw a weapon previously held by a fellow mobster on the ground, turning the search into a manhunt.

- B-47 (Blossom) improvised with a quick surprise 3-pronged attack with B-47 (Blossom) and B-48 (Buttercup) attacking the back and front of the enemy group, while B-49 (Bubbles) scaled the shelves to attack from above.

- Failure to scale the shelves quietly on B-49's (Bubbles) part resulted in premature execution of B-47 (Blossom). However, account from B-47 stated that the enemy group was splitting up, forcing her to take action quickly.

- B-47 (Blossom)'s decision led to a failed ambush, devolving into an outright pitched battle that, although she was ultimately victorious in, destroyed her element of surprise and stealth.

- B-49 (Bubbles) panics and retreats to hide after making minimal contribution in both ambushes.

- Forced to act without B-49, B-47 and B-48 advances on the remaining Lombardi soldatos and associates under a hail of heavy fire, used a forklift as a mobile cover, a tactic that fell apart due to a grenade.

- Don Ethan 'Junior' Ricci was sighted in the office along with an 'important lady'.

- The remaining Lombardi soldatos and associates retreats from the warehouse, with Junior staying behind to cover their retreat.

- Outside the warehouse, the PTF force supporting the subjects of Project Powerpuff arrested the two patrolling mob soldatos outside after a protracted firefight.

- B-47 (Blossom) and B-48 (Buttercup) engaged in deadly Close Quarters Combat (CQC) in the warehouse. According to their accounts, Junior was immune to gunshots and even more so to their unarmed strikes. Their observations are still pending verification.

- Junior emerged victorious over B-47 and B-48, wounding them 'lightly' and incapacitating them. The Powerpuff Task Force squad supporting The Three arrived, prompting Junior to retreat.

Result and Aftermath

Although the subjects of Project Powerpuff were able to incapacitate almost half the warehouse criminals, only 9 were captured in the warehouse itself due to 'Junior's intervention buying them time to wake up and escape with the rest. While an improvement over the previous results in the 1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank, it is still well below expectations, even the most pessimistic of them, and this poor result can be traced back to B-47's questionable leadership decisions. Despite having a clear shot and complete immunity to firearms, she refused to open fire on the remaining half of the criminals who were still fighting fit.

B-47, B-48 and B-49's failure to detain Don Ethan 'Junior' Ricci, a critical objective, has also lowered confidence in Project Powerpuff, especially when it has proven that the subjects are not completely invulnerable to injuries. The USDO's direction, however, has been adjusted due to this, with intelligence manpower diverted to investigate The Lombardi leader's abilities, which is apparently similar to the Project Powerpuff subjects.

The escaped criminals were mostly able to escape police and USDO attempts to detain them through the use of a hidden path through the chainlink fences using their vehicles. The result was a high-speed chase through Townsville Industrial Park and a connecting highway, resulting in casualties on all sides, and only 6 other criminals captured. It is suspected that some of the TPD officers involved were corrupted and had intentionally 'lose' the escaping Mafia members and associates.

Investigations revealed that the camera footage in the warehouse had been partially erased, such that without 'Junior's arrest at the scene of the crime, his presence cannot be proven in the warehouse. Evidences such as shell casings will likely become 'expired' as their link to the Don will be erased by criminal measures.

This will ultimately complicate the investigation against the Lombardi Crime Family, as fewer evidence has been gathered against them, and their members and associates' testimonials will largely be empty even if they were to speak, as they will be backed by little evidence.

Analysis - Project Powerpuff Failure

Other than the previously stated reasons for the failure of the mission in the 1st Battle of Townsville Central Bank, others can be added to the list here, such as:

- Poor leadership on the part of B-47 (Blossom): Her defining failure is her refusal to kill.

- Inexperience: the subjects have never fought anyone equivalent to their abilities before, if their account of the mission proves to be true.

Response

While training them had proven to be beneficial, more would be deemed useless as training is no longer the limiting factor of Project Powerpuff's success. Instead, efforts will be made on-site to induce B-47 (Blossom) to make the right decisions, or at least manage the limitations of her leadership to promote greater success.

The committee will decide on the nature of the inducements to be made to 'improve' her leadership. However, preliminary analysis of the possibilities excludes direct threats to her and her sisters' lives as it might result in a breach of containment. It may also make known their caretakers' direct involvement with the USDO (note: surprisingly, the subjects have never questioned their caretakers' cooperation with the USDO), and the true nature of their existence.

Chapter Text

Chapter 54: A Family Trip

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. Road to City.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1125.

Professor Utonium drove his car with the utmost concentration. It was a way to distract himself, but even this measure was failing. There was simply too much on his mind. The storm that nearly drove him to suicide, that had sapped his health and gave him an illness that had only recently abated, had never left. It had ebbed and flowed, and now he could feel the tide of trouble rising once more.

"Hello? Thomas? It's been a while," Wiggums had called him on his USDO-issued flip-phone, not even half an hour ago, just before he got into his car. The day was ruined for him the moment his old Organization friend called, though he couldn't bring himself to blame the socially awkward logistics manager. He had planned the trip right down to the minute; he had a camera dangling on his neck, and it was all ruined.

"What is it, Wiggums?" he had replied, that moment scarcely thirty minutes ago.

"You're not going to like this, Upton. All the Girls have just been down-rated," Wiggums had told him then. "We tried voting to increase or at least maintain their performance ratings, but we're always short. I'm sorry, Upton."

"How bad is it?" he had asked, even as his Girls were walking up to him, towards the car.

"Not entirely bad though. Buttercup's still at double A. Blossom's been knocked down to triple B. It's Bubbles I'm worried about. She's now a double D, just next door to absolute zero," Wiggums had replied, and it felt like his guts were doing somersaults in, as if his chest cavity was filled with boiling water when he heard it.

"What are they going to do?" the professor had asked, feeling his throat dry. Just then, Bubbles had come up to him, asking for him to carry her. He obliged, scooping her up with one arm, with the little girl doing most of the work.

"Nothing, thankfully. It's a relief. There's enough of us to block off euthanasia," Wiggums reported proudly. But Professor Utonium was anything but relieved. Instead, he could feel his heart skip a beat when there was the mere mention of euthanasia. With the USDO, it wasn't going to even be something as humane as how medical euthanasia was conducted, likely. Shadowy agencies like the USDO were usually fond of their double-speak.

As if that wasn't enough to ensure that he wasn't going to enjoy his day with the Girls, Buttercup had wailed about how Mommy should come along too before they left. The professor needed time away from the 'wife', especially after what Blossom had told him. But Blossom had actually sided with Buttercup and Selicia, and Bubbles went along with it as well.

And to top it off, he'd caught Buttercup hogging the bathroom again, doing God-knows-what. Once more, he'd heard giggles inside. The tinkling of glass, too? He couldn't quite tell. And when he knocked on the door, he heard rapid footsteps and the faucet. When he pressed his adopted daughter about it, she'd came up with another excuse.

"Oh, I was just really looking forward to our trip, Daddy," Buttercup had said. But enigmas and secrets aside, the worse part of it all, besides Bubbles' life on the balance, certainly had nothing to do with bathrooms.

"But Dad! Mom's family, too!" she'd cried after Professor Utonium had told her, when asked, that Mommy wasn't coming. "Can't she come? Please, Dad? Pleeeeeeease!?" It seemed like an eternity ago that Buttercup had gotten over her 'girlish' phase, and it was at that moment that it had resurfaced, even if briefly, and boy did Buttercup chose the right moment to let the girly girl in her out.

"She has things to do at home anyway," Professor Utonium scrambled for the next excuse he could take.

And Blossom had chosen the right moment to see eye-to-eye with Buttercup, who he knew had a completely different personality from her sister.

"Dad, I think Buttercup's right. Mom should come along too," Blossom had said, but she appeared to be in a strange mood. She'd said it with her eyes to the floor, if it wasn't closed, as if she was afraid that he would see what was in her eyes.

"But- What about that whole thing back in the playground? About you missing the first days and just the four of us together?" The professor had tried to reason with Blossom. Blossom wasn't quite herself, at least not as he knew her. The Girls were changing so fast.

"But she's our mom – she just had to go away when she had us. She's family, that's what you said, and it's a family trip," Blossom said. The professor had to look away when he heard Selicia's lie – his lie – quoted to him. Blossom, and Bubbles in his arms, hadn't noticed. Buttercup found it peculiar.

"What do you think, Bubbles?" the professor asked the bundle of joy in his arms after a sigh.

"Mommy should come. Because she's… Mom?" Bubbles tried in vain to substantiate herself, but to the professor, her opinion was enough, even if it was backed shoddily with circular reasoning. That was the end of it. Selicia was with them the next moment; he had to get back to The House to fetch her.

That was the story of how Selicia ended up sitting right next to him in the car. Looking at his rear-view mirror, he saw the entourage his family was attracting. The speed transports were right behind him, followed by several humvees. He tried his best not to show any contempt for his current situation. He smiled at Selicia, making use of his new-found talent in hiding and faking emotions. Selicia smiled back, but she knew better than to take Thomas' smile at face value.

The Girls at the back were oblivious of the tension between the two. They chomped away at the cookies Mommy had made.

"Wow, Mom! You're the best! These chocolate cookies are awesome!" Buttercup exclaimed as she took another bite into 'herself', or rather, a cartoon representation of her in a confectionery medium. They were each given a paper bag full of it. Each of them had four; Thomas had given up his share as he couldn't bear to eat anything Selicia had made at the moment.

The first place they'd been to was Townsville Central Park. The Girls loved the place. He could tell from how alive they became when they were there. Together, the family built snowmen, tried to build a castle, though the walls kept falling apart, under siege by their own limited ability in masonry using unconventional materials. The tension between Selicia and Thomas melted away as they tended to the super-powered younglings between them. It was a reminder that they both had common grounds, even if they expressed it in different ways.

In the distance, an odd ten or so USDO soldiers were spread out, somehow attracting more attention than the Girls, though when the Girls were sighted, people tend to get mesmerized, still, by their appearance. Their eyes in particular, then their beauty as a close second. Thankfully, they could pass very easily as regular human beings, and their eyes could still be explained away as a result of contact lenses. Professor Utonium had even come up with a story just in case; he had plenty of time to do so. Special contact lenses. Very special. Cutting edge stuff. For a rare hereditary disease that required special corrective eyewear.

After taking a few pictures as keepsakes, they took to the road again. This time, it was something different, for they stopped at Pete's-A Pizza, where the moment the Girls entered the Pizzeria, they were dazzled and wowed by the vibrant atmosphere, with an animatronics band singing and dancing on stage, and more children and parents were having fun. Arcades lined one wall with a mega ball pit. The moment they sat down, a man in a dog suit came over to take their order.

"Bow wow wow wow wow! Can I take your order?" the waiter quipped excitedly.

As it was practically a kids' zone, Professor Utonium decided to let the Girls have their own table, while he took another not far from theirs with his 'wife'. At first, they ate in silence as they watched the Girls talking among themselves. Blossom and Buttercup seemed closer than before, where they were previously at odds with each other most of the time. They could only sit and eat in silence for so long, however, before the kids started noticing them.

"So, I guess this is our first date?" the professor said to Selicia, jumping at the first thing on his mind to stave off suspicions from the Girls.

"I guess it kinda is," Selicia replied, a little awkward too. She played with the fake wedding band on her ring finger, rotating it. She took a secretive glance at the Girls. They'd gone back to talking among themselves. Something about flying. Of course. They, too, took occasional glances at them. "The Girls are looking at us," she added.

"I know," the professor said.

"Reach for my hand," Selicia suggested. Thomas took her advice, and put a hand on top of hers, completely engulfing it. Silence prevailed for another awkward moment, before she defeated it once more. "Pretty wild ride so far, huh?"

"Yeah, wild," the professor followed along, with a nervous laughter trailing behind his copy-cat words. Selicia placed a hand over the one that engulfed her other. She could feel his hand pull away, only to stop.

"We need to get along better than this," Selicia said.

"Sounds like a conversation we had before," the professor remarked.

"And with the two of us flying, I'm sure we'll put a smile on Mister Blackwater's face in no time," Blossom said to her sisters as she chomped on a pizza. "He'll love us, and then he'll stop shouting at us."

"Urgh, that gorilla? I don't think he even knows how to smile!" Buttercup said, before taking a huge chunk off a pepperoni slice hungrily, smearing her lips and cheeks with ketchup. "Mmm-hmm, this is better than the last one."

"That's not the point, Buttercup. We need to stop the bad guys or they'll hurt Townsville…" Blossom explained.

"And we'll do it better if we all could fly. What's the secret, Bubbles?" Buttercup asked.

"I don't know- I was just… Afraid, I guess," Bubbles said, unsure of herself.

"Oh, that's helpful," Buttercup remarked sarcastically as she frowned at Bubbles, who became downcast. Blossom stared at the emerald-eyed little girl angrily, who turned her frown upside-down into a nervous smile immediately. She knew what it meant. "Bubbles, I didn't mean that. I get angry all the time, I can't help it. I'm s-sorry." It had taken some practice, but Buttercup managed to vomit the apology out quicker.

"You've been awfully sweet lately, Buttercup," Bubbles said, immediately smiling back. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Buttercup replied, her fake smile still up, though Bubbles was none the wiser. She sneaked a glance at Blossom, whose gaze, pinned on her, was still on fire, but at least she was smiling from the effort she took to correct herself. It meant only good things. It meant that Blossom wouldn't tell on her, which meant that she wouldn't lose Daddy immediately. "Hey, you want a slice of my pepperoni? It's good!"

"Aw, you're too kind, Buttercup," Bubbles praised as she took a slice from Buttercup's kid-sized pan. Buttercup laughed, feeling the sting as she did love her pepperoni pizza. "I'll trade with you. You can have my Hawaiian if you want. The pineapple is tasty!"

Buttercup looked at Blossom, wondering what to do. Blossom nodded, and Buttercup took a slice of Hawaiian and dug into it, before feeling the sole of her leader's Mary-Jane digging into the top of her foot. "Thank you, Bubbles. You're kind, too," Buttercup said, her tone painfully artificial. It made Bubbles happy, though. The tomboy reached for a slice and munched on it. The fruit crunched within her mouth, but she thought that it tasted strange. Weird. Dreadful. A single teardrop fell from Buttercup's eye as she withdrew the rest of the Hawaiian pizza slice and she continued to smile, her face feeling like cracking, when Blossom pulled at her string again.

"You know, we sound exactly like a married couple," Selicia said.

"Really?" Professor Utonium replied in disbelief.

"We argue all the time," Selicia said. "Isn't that how it normally goes?"

"Well…" the professor thought back to his days with Eileen. It was all happy memories, even the days when they had argued, until that fateful day, which made it all the more painful and it had shown on his face. "Yes, that's how it normally goes."

"You're thinking about Eileen and Bloome again, are you?" Selicia pressed gently. She got up and stood behind her 'husband', leaning on him, putting her face beside his, her chin resting on his shoulder. They both looked at the Girls, who were engrossed in some other discussion. Then Bubbles spotted Selicia and how she was lovingly embracing her Daddy. It naturally attracted looks from the other two. "I promise I'm not trying to replace Eileen, Tommy. But you have to move on. She'd want you to. Look at Buttercup, Blossom and Bubbles, look at us. We're in this forever - I'd want this to last forever, and you've shown me how. We should act as if our… relationship is a little more stronger and permanent."

"I don't know if I can, Selicia," the professor confessed, barely containing himself. Memories were flooding back once more, quite suddenly, and it had been many days now - a first, and it wasn't hard to explain why, when he was so preoccupied with his adopted lab-grown children.

"I know you can, Thomas," Selicia encouraged. "You've managed it in front of the kids for a month now."

What Selicia said got the professor to turn and regard her, this time in a different light. She was right, of course. Come to think of it, the professor thought she looked rather attractive. Relative young age aside, she was a fine specimen of a female Homo Sapien Sapien. Her attitude needed work, and it had all worked out. As far as he knew, she had stopped abusing Bubbles, and she had changed her attitude towards Blossom. Buttercup wasn't even remotely an issue - they got along just fine, a little too well, even.

He had to try, really try, not for himself or Selicia, but for the Girls.

"We could go on another date on Monday. A real one, I mean," Thomas finally said. "How are you with fine-dining?"

"I'll kill you if I don't die of shame first," Selicia joked with an ecstatic giggle. "I saw an Italian cafe which looked really good, I'll take you there."

"Does it have to be… You know," Thomas agreed. "Italian?"

"Oh come on! They're not all part of the mafia!" Selicia exclaimed, taking care not to be too loud, while slapping Thomas in the shoulder playfully. "Besides, if anything were to happen, we'll save you - all four of us."

Professor Utonium gave a sigh. He couldn't help but to notice that he had been doing that very often lately, as if he was twice his age, a lamenting old man filled with regrets. "I wish the Girls could experience a normal childhood. The way things are going now, they practically have none. They're part-time children, at most."

"Yeah well, it's not like you can turn off their enhancements, right?" Selicia said rhetorically.

An unexpected brainwave washed across the professor. Chemical X's formula, its molecular structure. The stabilizing agents. The USDO were only so hard on the Girls only because they thought the Girls were too powerful, too dangerous, too important an asset. What if they were no longer powerful?

Connecting the dots, however, he knew that there were many steps that he would have to take before he could even think of testing a method to safely disempower the Girls. It would be years at worse, months at best, before he could arrive at a viable solution. It meant coming up with a unifying theory on the inner workings of Chemical X first - he had only multiple bodies of loosely linked theories related to its different properties. It meant understanding how Chemical X was able to bestow the wondrous gifts and curses that were the many enhancements of the Girls, which seemed to be multiplying by the numbers and growing more complicated by the day. It meant coming up with a way to separate the Girls from the Chemical X, somehow. Trials involving earlier versions of Chemical X and its removal from subjects has always had fatal consequences, unfortunately.

It was a pipe-dream, at least for now.

"I wish we could," the professor said hopelessly.

"Until we can," Selicia added, agreeing with him. "We'll just have to be there for them every time they go to war."

Blossom came up to them after that. "Hey Dad, hey Mom, can we jump into the ball pit?" she asked sweetly. Buttercup and Bubbles were looking expectantly at them.

Blossom was all the professor needed to feel a little better. "Sure, go right ahead, you three," he said to the Girls with a laugh. "Just don't overexert yourselves. You don't want your pizzas coming back up!"

So they went into the ball pit, tried the arcade and ate some more before they took a few more family pictures and left the Italian Animatronic Jug Band to their music.

The City of Townsville. Uptown. The Mall.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1354.

They spent their after-lunch hours in Townville's The Mall. Third times' the charm. Being the biggest there was, they hadn't even explored the entirety of The Mall yet, but they didn't need to. Despite how complicated their lives had become, the Girls enjoyed the little things. They returned to the same clothes mega-store, just that they'd picked up different things. Black belts as an option to replace their sashes, the beginnings of fashion choice for the Girls. Rainbow Steams (TM) had also just pushed out a line of jackets (In all the colors of the rainbow, naturally) meant to complement the Girls' dresses, normal and frilly alike. The professor took three for each of the three Girls. Selicia picked out pantyhoses for them, of the white variety. But most importantly, they bought dresses and shoes one size bigger for them.

"Dad, aren't those too big for us?" Blossom, ever the observant one, asked as the professor threw in three of each for each of the three Girls.

"They won't be for long, Blossy-dear," Professor Utonium replied. "Before you know it, you'd be the same size as Mommy here."

"That would be cool," Buttercup, who was standing on the frame of the shopping cart the man was pushing, said. "I bet I can punch and kick harder if I'm two, no, four times bigger!"

"But how will Dad carry us if we get that big?" Bubbles commented meekly from inside the shopping cart. She looked a little like a caged animal while she was inside.

"Maybe Dad will be twice as big by that time, right Dad?" Blossom theorized. The professor and his 'wife' laughed.

"No, he'll be four times bigger!" Buttercup corrected.

"That's not how it works, Girls," Professor Utonium explained, still laughing. "We stop growing at a certain age. I won't be getting any bigger anytime soon."

"Then how will Dad carry us if we get that big?" Bubbles repeated her question. For some reason, she could feel fear and sadness welling up inside her.

"I probably won't have to by that time," the professor said. He'd seen the look on Bubbles' face, and he knew why she would feel that way. "You can carry me instead," he tried joking, but it didn't improve her mood. He thought fast for a solution. "You know what wouldn't change?"

"What?" Bubbles asked, close to tears.

"My love for you," the professor said. "No matter how things change, I will always love the three of you. Forever and always."

"Thanks, Dad," Blossom said.

"Yeah, Dad, you're the best," Buttercup added.

Bubbles said nothing. She simply leaned the back of her head on the professor's fingers on the handlebar of the cart, craving the feeling of his hand. The professor caressed her in the cheek briefly.

As usual, a few people were staring at them, specifically, a man and his girlfriend, or wife. His look was fixed on the Girls.

"What are you staring at!?" Selicia spat at him sternly.

"N-nothing! Beautiful family you have there!" the man stammered before backing off and walking away hurriedly, dragging his lady along. It'd reminded the Girls' guardians of their eyes. They'd added sunglasses to the cart after that as an afterthought. In reality, it would be almost as hard to explain the sunglasses away. It didn't work all the time either - while testing it in the dim lighting of a changing stall, the Girls' glowing eyes would still shine through, making them seem a little intimidating. Chief of Security Blackwater would have loved it.

After doing their shopping, Professor Utonium brought them to the arcade, but the game machines there were only half the fun. The photo machines there offered something that the professor's camera did not have - fun overlays, a stress-free timer, and the privacy of a booth.

Photo Archive 12171988 - Utonium 'Family'

DOC: 23 FEB 1989

The following photos have been copied for archival, to be used by USDO personnel for any purposes, including administration, research, investigation, public relations, newsletter publications, covert or military operations, political leverage and manipulation, etc.

Photo #45

Desc: Subjects B-47 (Blossom, centre), B-48 (Buttercup, B-47's right) and B-49 (Bubbles, B-48's left) close together and smiling. The size of the photo booth had forced them close to each other, such that their cheeks were pressing close to each other. Overlay with clouds and angels at the top and bottom of the photo.

Photo #46

Desc: Subjects B-47 (Blossom, left) and B-48 (Buttercup, right) hugging closely, with B-47 smiling but B-48 was barely maintaining a smile. Overlay has puppies lining top and bottom.

Photo #47

Desc: Subjects B-47 (Blossom, centre) and B-49 (Bubbles, behind) with B-49 on the back of B-47, both smiling. Overlay has balloons on the left and right.

Photo #48

Desc: Subjects B-48 (Buttercup, right) and B-49 (Bubbles, left) with B-48 putting an arm around B-49's neck, as if wrestling. Both of them were laughing. Overlay has Mexican masked wrestlers on all four corners of the photo.

Photo #49

Desc: Sergeant Selicia Goodwin, SWAT division, designated 'mother' and subject handler, with B-48 (Buttercup) in a close-up, with them kissing in the lips (note by psychiatrist Alice: filial and platonic) while looking at the camera. Hearts lined the top of the photo.

Photo #51

Desc: Sergeant Selicia Goodwin, SWAT division, designated 'mother' and subject handler, with B-47 (Blossom) and B-49 (Bubbles) hanging on each of her arms. She appears to be able to lift the both of them with very little visible distress. All three smiling.

Photo #52

Desc: Professor Utonium, Research Division, designated field researcher and subject handler, with B-47 (Blossom) on his lap. The professor's head is on top of B-47's, and he is hugging her from behind. Overlay has books at the bottom.

Photo #53

Desc: Professor Utonium, Research Division, designated field researcher and subject handler, with B-48 (Buttercup) kissing him in the lips. Professor Utonium appeared surprised, with his eyes looking away from the camera (note by psychiatrist Alice: the professor appears to have been ambushed in this case). Overlay has toy rocket ships at the bottom.

Photo #54

Desc: Professor Utonium, Research Division, designated field researcher and subject handler, with B-49 (Bubbles) cradled in his arms like a baby. Overlay has bubbles around the border.

Photo #55

Desc: Professor Utonium with all three subjects. B-47 (Blossom, right leg), B-48 (Buttercup, left leg) and B-49 (Bubbles, on the professor's back). All subjects smiling. Overlay has rainbows and hearts at the bottom.

Photo #56

Desc: The entire family, squeezed in together for a close-up of their faces. The subjects at the bottom (B-47 at the centre, B-48 on the right and B-49 on the left), the handlers above them (Professor Utonium on the right and Sergeant Selicia Goodwin on the left), their cheeks pressed closely together.

The City of Townsville. Downtown. The Mall.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1509.

It was tea time. The professor had taken the family to a cafe in the mall for some cake and juice, but it was more for Selicia and him. The Girls weren't tired from walking (or running around the place), as their enhanced strength and stamina weren't taxed at all by the weight of their bodies or the minuscule distance they traveled (by enhanced human being standards), so it was just another experience for them. The professor, on the other hand, needed to sit down, while Selicia could also use the break, though it would take another twelve more hours of forced marching to tire her out.

This time, the guardians and Girls were together at one table.

"You know, Christmas is coming," Selicia changed the topic when it was most convenient.

"Christmas? Oh! I've nearly forgotten about Christmas!" Professor Utonium exclaimed in agitation - it would have been disastrous if he did.

"Any idea what to do for Christmas Eve and the big day itself?" Selicia asked. The professor hunched his back, hand on his chin. It had been a long time since he had to celebrate it in a family setting.

"Right, urm," the professor uttered as he thought some more.

"Wait, what's Christmas?" Blossom asked. The professor agonizing it, after Selicia made special mention of it had piqued her interest. It seemed like something special. The professor's eyes lit up. Answering Blossom's question would buy him time from total embarrassment, perhaps inspire him. "Christmas is the celebration of giving, honey."

"But what do we give on Christmas?" Bubbles asked.

"And what do I get?" Buttercup came up with his own question too.

"Well, anything really, as long as you mean it," the professor said. "But don't worry your little head over giving, Bubbles - Girls - I think the three of you have been giving too much. It's time the three of you get something."

"It's also a time when we decorate The House with a Christmas tree, and streamers and bells and… the three of you will love it," Selicia explained further. "But most importantly, it's the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ."

"Do we have to bring religion into this?" the professor interrupted.

"Religion? We're talking about Christmas-" Selicia said.

"Selicia, it's not what I-" Thomas was about to raise his voice when he stopped. Smiles fell away from the Girls' face when they sense an argument in the horizon. Not wanting to ruin the family trip, he lowered his tone, tried to compromise. "I guess it's culture. It would be interesting for the Girls."

So Selicia went on about Jesus Christ, and inevitably talked about Christianity and the Bible. Blossom listened attentively, always curious. Bubbles thought Jesus was a nice guy who she would like to meet. Buttercup did not say it, but she thought this 'Jesus' fellow should have killed the Roman soldiers instead of the other way around. The whole religious lesson didn't last long, however-

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Came a familiar sound from the professor's jacket. Bubbles broke out in cold sweats instantly because of it. The professor reached into his jacket and pulled out the flip phone Wiggums issued to all of them. Blossom thought it strange that it wasn't the flip phone in her pocket that rang.

The professor sighed.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The emergency hotline did not care for his reluctance.

"Dad…" Bubbles mewled, visibly distressed. Tears were welling up in her eyes. The professor looked at her, the well of emotions inside him stirred into a maelstrom. What could he say to her? When Wiggums had told him that the sweetest of the three was just a vote away from being executed? Just because she was the most normal-seeming girl of the three?

It did not mean that the others were free from trouble either. Buttercup had killed a man. Even if he was a robber, what worried him the most was that Buttercup felt nothing after she had done the deed. It wasn't even mentioned in their conversation about guilt. The professor couldn't decide if it was just childhood naivety or… something more unspeakable.

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! The phone continued to bang on the door of their party. The professor caressed Bubbles' hair as he flipped open the phone and pressed the answer button. He brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he said dispassionately into the phone.

"Professor Utonium. Sorry to interrupt. I know what you guys are doing now, but we've got a call," Agent Blake on the other end said.

"This early in the day? On a weekend?" the professor tried to wiggle his family out of this one - if there's room to wiggle.

"Sorry, sir. It's not my call," Agent Blake apologized.

"Can I say no?" the professor tried again.

"No, I'm afraid not," the security officer said apologetically.

"What is it about?" the professor asked.

"Hell if I know," Agent Blake said.

"Can I come with them?"

"No. I'm sorry, prof. We'll be at the grand entrance of the mall."

The security officer hung up after that, leaving the professor alone to explain the situation to his family. "Girls… It's time for you three to go again."

"Dad, I can't! Please don't send me away!" Bubbles cried, attracting stares from the the tables surrounding them. The professor looked around, embarrassed. He stood up.

"Selicia, watch the table. Come on, Girls," he said. Blossom and Buttercup jumped off their chairs immediately. Bubbles did it reluctantly, torn between listening to her father and not wanting to go. Professor Utonium had to take her by the hand, and there was some resistance as they walked out of the cafe.

"Dad, I don't want to go!" Bubbles sobbed, attracting yet more stares from shoppers close enough. They crossed the plaza, and by this time, the professor had to actually pull Bubbles along.

"Don't be such a pussy, Bubbles," Buttercup spat, disgusted by Bubbles' cowardice. Blossom glared at her, and she backed off, intimidated once more by what she could do to her.

"Buttercup, where did you learn that word? Don't use it again," the professor reprimanded her. That was when Bubbles started pulling back, putting her foot down, nearly causing her father to fall. "Bubbles!" The professor pulled at her, but she was far too strong. He was stuck, as if chained to a ship's anchor.

Professor Utonium knelt down, taking out a handkerchief to wipe Bubbles' tears away. "Bubbles, this is what you're born to do - it's your gift." Of course, he couldn't tell her that if she wouldn't do it - couldn't do it - the USDO was going to make sure she wouldn't have to try again. For good.

"But I can't! I- I- hurt a man real bad and…" Bubbles tried to explain. "They'll hurt me too!"

"Your sisters will be there with you," the professor said to her. "You're helping people this way, Bubbles."

"Dad, no…" Bubbles continued to cry, inconsolable. Time was of the essence.

"Bubbles, if you don't, there are people who will hate you for this," the professor said desperately. "And they won't be kind to you. I love you, and I don't want you to get into trouble. Please."

"No!" Bubbles screamed.

"Blossom, Buttercup," the professor instructed his other Girls. Together, the two of them dragged her towards The Mall's grand entrance, all the way into the Lamborghini with Agent Blake, all the while attracting even more stares from people who were wondering what the hell was going on as Bubbles screamed all the way to the car.

"Must be a spoiled rich kid-" the professor heard one of them say.

"Damn rich kids and their tantrums- Why can't they be more like that Princess Morbucks?" he heard another concur.

"Hey, watch the kid! Dang bad parents…" another Townsville citizen spat.

As the Lamborghini drove away, the professor could only dread what was next. Bubbles seemed to be reacting quite badly to her law enforcement duties, even if it wasn't like the first time. Something told him he was going to need professional help at this stage - not just for himself, but also for Bubbles.

Chapter Text

Chapter 55: The Strip (Part 1)

The Mall. Mission Time - 0 mins

Bubbles was dragged into the Lamborghini speed transport kicking and screaming and crying. Blossom and Buttercup had to sit with her in between to keep her from flying out of the car - literally or otherwise. "I hate you! I hate all of you!" she screamed in a high-pitched wail. Agent Blake and Corporal Rutherland had to cover their ears due to how shrill it was.

"Afternoon to the three of you too," Agent Blake said as he switched gears on the Lamborghini. "Looks like the three of you would have to get changed inside." Corporal Rutherland started handing out their uniforms, armor and helmets.

"Ooh, thank God! I was gettin' crushed in here," Corporal Rutherland said with relief as he felt the weight coming off his chest. "We've got some other surprises for you too. A little something before Christmas."

It was cramped inside, but the Girls' size had made it possible to actually move in the backseat. They were frequently in each other's way as they got suited up, however, and Bubbles' sobbing and sniffling made the passenger compartment feel tighter, somehow. But they had their super-agility, and it was a long ride.

Corporal Rutherland handed out their flashbangs and smoke grenades when they were done, then their MP5s. "Ready for the surprise?"

"Uh-huh," the Girls said in unison, with Buttercup enthusiastic and Bubbles quite the opposite.

"Here, take your pick, Girls," Rutherland stuck three guns out from over his shoulder. An odd assortment of them, picked out for their use. There was an XM14 rifle with the stock removed, a Serbu Super Shorty shotgun which looked like it was made for children, and a stockless Stoner 63 carbine light machinegun.

Buttercup went for the biggest gun sitting on the soldier's shoulder, the light machinegun, beaming at it all the while. Blossom took the stockless XM14, leaving the super shorty shotgun. Bubbles did not take it. Instead, she sat where she was, eyes searching for answers in the floor of the cabin.

"What are you waiting for, Bubbles? It's yours!" Rutherland said, waving the handle of the shotgun at her.

"I don't like shotguns," Bubbles said meekly. "They hurt me badly the last time."

"Here, Bubbles, you can have my gun," Blossom said as she handed her carbine over to Bubbles and took the super shorty. She pumped it. No shells came out. Buttercup took out the drum magazine of her machinegun, only to see nothing in it. She charged the gun, but found the chamber empty. Corporal Rutherland corrected their lack of ammo by handing out boxes of it.

"Start loading up, Girls," Agent Blake reminded them.

Agent Blake turned on the radio, this time switching to a classical music channel. The sound of soothing piano had helped calm Bubbles down. They spent some time listening to it, before Bubbles broke the lull.

"Blossom, I'm scared."

"So am I, Bubbles."

"I'm not," Buttercup boasted.

"What if something really bad happens this time?" Bubbles was almost whispering, as if the bad guys were listening.

"Bubbles, you need to listen to me," Blossom reassured her. She took Bubbles by the shoulder, their face close. "If we help each other, we should be fine."

"Yeah, don't run away like the last time!" Buttercup added.

"Buttercup…" Blossom sighed, warning her aggressive sister off, her tone rather anaemic because this time, she knew that Buttercup was right to be bitter. Bubbles had left them behind in the warehouse, and they were beaten to unconsciousness as a result. She could not help but to think that they might have won had Bubbles joined in the fight against Junior.

"I'm sorry…" Bubbles apologized.

"So stay with us this time, okay?" Blossom asked. "We can't do it without you."

"Okay," Bubbles agreed.

The Strip. Mission Time - 21 mins

It was day time, hours from twilight. Concealment didn't look like it was in the cards until the speed convoy entered an alleyway, where two familiar persons greeted Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup the moment they left their transport.

"Hello, Girls," it was Detective Mullens, leaning against the filthy brick wall of a strip club's back. Officer Olivia, in jeans, a thick, brown jacket and sweater inside, was leaning against an opposite wall belonging to a bar. The detective took a puff from his cigarette. "I apologize for the smoke." He took one more puff before dropping it in the snow and stomping it out, snuffing it.

"Hello Mister Mullens, how are you?" Blossom opened up politely as she came up to him, a little reserved since the first two times they had met did not exactly give her the best impressions. The ride-along was still fresh on her mind, but so was the ice-cream he got her.

"Detective Mullens. I'm fine, all things considered, depending on how you look at it," the detective said cryptically.

"Where's Mister Blackwater?" Bubbles asked, looking around, peeking behind the detective, seeing nothing but dumpsters and trash and rats and shadows. "And all those soldiers and policemen?"

"It's just us today," Detective Mullens answered.

"Blackwater's busy with something else, Blossom," Agent Blake added.

"With any luck, we won't have to fire a single shot today," Detective Mullens went on.

"That would be boring!" Buttercup exclaimed. "But what are we doing here anyway?"

"I got a tip-off from an informant just this morning. A deal's going down in the Lucky Strip Club. We won't be get another shot at catching a mob boss this time, but it's their place. If there's bad stuff in there, it's their problem," Detective Mullens said. "You Girls ready?"

"Yes we are," Blossom spoke for the team, though Bubbles didn't look like it. She hugged her stockless XM4 closely - it was Octi's surrogate. She would have had it if she wasn't rushed from the Mall to a mission.

Detective Mullens grunted, before leading them towards the backdoor of the Lucky Strip Club with Officer Olivia.

"Mister Mullens?" Blossom said again.

"Hmm?" Mullens grunted in response.

"Why do you still want us around, after what happened in the bank and warehouse?" Blossom asked.

"I can't blame the three of you for what happened," Detective Mullens said.

"But we failed. What if we fail again?" Blossom pressed on.

"You three didn't fail in the warehouse, not in my book," Detective Mullens said, coming close to sounding comforting.

"But we let most of the bad guys go," Blossom said.

"And we got some of them in the bag thanks to you," Detective Mullens reassured her. "I think there's something up with Junior and the Amoeba Boys. It's not your fault you couldn't catch him."

There were bouncers even at the back entrance. Two of them, in suave suits. To their credit, they stood their ground despite having two police officers coming up to them, backed by three strange little girls armed to the teeth and armored thoroughly, with seven USDO soldiers in black bringing up the rear.

"You know who owns this joint!" the larger of the bouncers warned the detective. "Scram, copper, if you know what's good for you!"

Detective Mullens pulled a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket, unfolded it and shoved it into the face of the huge man. The bouncer read what was on it and snorted.

"Do you know what a warrant is, you ape?" Mullens said.

"I know what a fucking warrant is," the big bouncer said. The Girls looked taken aback. The professor had taken great pains to educate them about colorful languages.

"Watch your mouth, apeman!" the detective warned.

"Whatever! This piece of paper isn't worth nothing 'round here, don't you know how things work?" the bouncer resisted.

"Things are going to work differently in Townsville from now on. Now step aside, or you'll be guarding a cell!" Detective Mullens warned again, standing his ground. To back him up, the Girls pointed their new guns at them - Blossom and Buttercup with scowls on their faces, while Bubbles with a rather apologetic and terrified look. The other bouncer who had been silent withdrew his hand from the insides of his jacket; he had planned to pull his pistol out - a stupid move considering the disparity in numbers, but the Lombardi had a talent for inspiring such bravery with a few well-placed threats and carrots.

"What's with the kids, man!?" the other bouncer said. "You're bringing them into a strip club!?"

"I don't need childcare advice from a lowlife like you," the detective said dismissively, even though the 'lowlife' had a point. "Sergeant Blake, watch the back entrance. I'll call you on the radio if I need reinforcement." He pushed past the bouncers and went through the door. The Girls followed. Agent Blake ordered two of his men to restrain the bouncers. They dragged them to some pipes and cuffed them there, each with both their hands restrained.

A dreary corridor was all they had to pass through to reach the main stage and floor area, a far cry for what was to come.

"Girls, you're going to see some… weird things around here. Don't let it affect you," Detective Mullens said to the Girls.

"That's the best you can do?" Officer Olivia criticized, then looked over her shoulders at the Girls as they walked through the staff corridor. "There's going to be some naked women around here. They're here for fun - but they should be harmless." The detective did a double take on Officer Olivia, but said nothing more. His eyes were on the prize.

When they were close to the entrance into the stages and floor - a set of double doors - those doors swung open. The detective and police officer reached for their guns, pulling them out, but it turned out to be a pair of strippers, half naked. Speak of the devil.

The strippers stared at the police officers, then looked down at their waist-tall reinforcement. Children. In a strip club. They screamed and covered their breasts, running into the make-up room, leaving behind a very shocked Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup. But at least Blossom now knew that all women looked the same underneath their shirts - when she'd accidentally saw Mom naked with her X-ray vision, she was confused by what she saw.

Going through the swinging doors, the police officers and the Girls emerged at the stages and floor, but it wasn't filled with raucous crowds and rows of naked girls. It was far too early, even for a Saturday. But the area was designed to be loud and dynamic and in-your-face even without a crowd, as strobing lights, complemented by laser lights, painted everyone and everything in a golden-yellowish hue. This was complemented by a strobing soundtrack blasted from speakers all over the hall of decadence.

There were but a few groups of men and women crowding around several strippers in various stages of undress. Detective Mullens pointed at the DJ, and Officer Olivia understood. The Girls, in the meantime, stared at what was going on with the groups of cheering and hooting adults, at the strippers, still very much overwhelmed by shock, confusion, even fear. Only Buttercup seemed to be able to manage her emotions.

The music was cut after that, and the strippers on stage stopped gyrating and spinning around their poles. "Hey, what gives!? I paid good money for this!" one of them shouted. "Yoh, DJ, what the fuck!?" another scolded, displeased at having been interrupted. "Jamal, what the fuck! You ruined my flow!" one of the pole dancers screamed - upset that her shower of greens was turned off. Their clients turned around to look at the DJ, then Olivia, and finally, the obvious detective with his fedora and trench coat.

"What the hell is that!?" one of them shouted in disbelief when he saw who were standing around Detective Mullens. "Children!?" another man shouted. "Hey, Halloween's over!" yet another man said. When the pole-dancing strippers realized that they were standing half-naked, or almost fully naked, in front of three little girls, they immediately screamed, covering themselves up with whatever they had on hand - their hands, the meagre clothes they had on before they started. One of them was handed a trench coat, another jumped down a stage and fell on her knees with a pained shout. Blossom and Bubbles stood where they were, feeling a little awkward at the mayhem they had caused by simply being there. Buttercup chuckled, and thought it was funny, like some slapstick comedy in action.

Detective Mullens watched them scramble and panic with a kind of childish amusement he never thought he could ever feel again. He reached into his trench coat and pulled his police badge out. "TPD, all of you get out!" Detective Mullens ordered.

"Who the fuck do you think you are!?" one of the clients bellowed, coming up to the detective. "Do you even know who you're messing with!?" He reached inside his jacket. The Girls pointed their guns at him. He stopped. "We- We're the Lombardi! You've got some nerve! And just what the shit is with those voodoo-eyed kids, man!?" He was referring to their eyes, which shone red, blue and green under their own power despite the place being lit up in gold by spotlights and strobe lighting.

"Watch your mouth, sonny, before I feed you lead," Detective Mullens threatened the young gangster. "I can guarantee you that lead isn't as good as calcium."

Instead of taking the hint, the men and women who were audience of the strippers were still standing where they were, instead of leaving - wondering what on Earth the police was doing putting children in the field with guns and more armor than the average crack SWAT cop. Olivia returned to Mullens' side, before taking the young gangster away in cuffs on his instruction - they'd argued for a bit, as Officer Olivia wanted to stay with the detective, but she complied anyway. The clients were mostly looking at the Girls, still shocked by their appearance, as if they were zoo animals outside their cage. They pointed at them, looking at their otherworldly eyes after the Lombardi enforcer had pointed them out. Bubbles couldn't look at them as it'd made them shy and Blossom wasn't far behind as she had to force herself to return the stares that the crowd was giving her. The floor was easier to stare at. The way they were looking at them made Buttercup angry, however.

"What are you looking at!?" she snapped at them crazily, making some of them jump. Detective Mullens assessed the crowd, noting that there were no more mob enforcers in their midst, before firing several rounds into the ceiling.

"I said out!" he ordered again. This time, he'd sent them packing - the customers to the front door, and the strippers towards the make-up room. The strippers, on their way there, made a huge circle around the Girls, as if they were some kind of supernatural - and dangerous - presence. To the Girls, he said: "C'mon, let's keep moving."

"I thought we didn't have to fire a single shot…" Bubbles said while they were on the way, a little shaken by the gunshots. Blossom gave her a squeeze in the shoulder for reassurance, but it did little to calm her down.

"That's not counted," Detective Mullens corrected.

They moved towards the VIP area, going through the door and into another corridor filled with doors before they met any other trigger-happy gangsters. They started clearing the rooms. Detective Mullens had to kick the doors down. Blossom and Bubbles broke the door knobs while twisting them, completely breaking the locking mechanisms with an effortless twist. Buttercup followed the detective's example, but made a hole in the door she tried to kick down instead. Screams came from inside. She tried again, this time closer to the hinges, which took the entire door down.

While Blossom and Bubbles took great care in escorting their victims out for Detective Mullens to identify, Buttercup was dragging hers out instead. None of them were the people they were looking for. Just strippers and clients.

"They've got to be past this hallway," Detective Mullens surmised. There was no more room for subtlety. They had been making too much noise, shooting bullets into the air, kicking down doors. All bets were off. Just as they were about to get through the door at the end of the hallway, with a sign above it that read 'Bar', a man came through it, a submachinegun in one hand. Detective Mullens grabbed him by the wrist of his gun arm, twisted the gun out of the way before pistol-whipping the mob enforcer in the head, stunning him. Grabbing him by the throat, he used the man as a door knocker, pushing the door he came through a second ago open.

He was glad that he had that man, because he had just come face to face with a large group of his friends in the bar, surrounding their local underboss, a bald man in a black suit, at the table with a mysterious woman in a fedora and trench coat. Their guns were out, and they had already taken positions. Detective Mullens had only the defeated gangster for a shield.

"That's the same lady we saw in the warehouse, Mister Mullens!" Blossom exclaimed on seeing the mysterious woman.

"We meet again," the mysterious woman greeted from the across the room.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the legendary Detective Mullens," the Strip Club Underboss said. "Whose brats are those? Yours? You have ten seconds to talk before I blow you and your kids' heads off."

Bubbles' fears had been justified. There was no way they could end the day without bullets tearing into flesh and bodies hitting the floor. He was here to secure evidence of a drug deal - specifically an exchange of money for a shipment of 'His Secret', and to arrest anyone connected to it - all to add weight to his case against the Lombardi. He wasn't going to back out of it. It was never his way.

The problem was, the underbosses of the Lombardi, driven both by fear and greed, weren't known to back out either, at least until half their muscles were stripped away from them.

It was about to get really bloody.

Chapter Text

Chapter 56: The Strip (Part 2)

Lucky Strip Club. Mission Time - 33 mins

Detective Mullens scanned the room. There were about fifteen Lombardi gangsters hiding behind bar counters and flipped-over steel tables, not counting the boss and broad, who were behind a bar in the centre.

"You're under arrest. How about you and your monkeys put down your guns and follow me down to the police HQ?" he remarked, and managed a smile despite the seemingly poor odds. He'd had worst, and he'd learned a long time ago that laughing in the face of danger and death made the shit go down better.

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had their guns up as well, though the former two had no intention of shooting anyone dead. Blossom was peeking at the corners of her eyes, taking stock of the situation, planning, surveying the terrain. She had to get her sisters through this one, especially Bubbles. Daddy had said that there were people who would hate her if she didn't fight crime. It wasn't a stretch to imagine that those same people wouldn't be kind to her if she failed in fighting crime.

Detective Mullens' remark made the mobsters in the room laugh.

"Look around you, detective. There's seventeen of us here, against a grand total of you - and your little kids from kindergarten, of course. Where did you find them? Were they on a ride-along - on a weekend?" the mob underboss taunted.

"Do not underestimate the little girls, Matthias. They're not what they seem they are," the mysterious woman advised. The underboss brushed her aside to continue with his boast:

"I'm going to give you an ultimatum, Detective Mutts. You turn around and walk away. And- and take those little girls along with you back to their dollhouse. You do that, and I'll make sure the Amoeba Boys go easy on you."

The Detective responded by putting one in between one of the mobsters, before dashing towards the bar counter closest to him, to the right of the room.

"Left!" Blossom shouted before dashing into the bar counter to the left of the room, with Buttercup spraying bullets across the room to intimidate the gangsters. The Girls were in cover within a second, due to how fast they were.

The gangsters responded with seventeen times the number of lead, first killing the man Mullens had held hostage before putting holes in the bar counters the detective and Girls were hiding behind. Blossom peeked over her bar counter, and saw the mysterious woman shrugging off her trench coat and-

She had four arms.

Blossom blinked.

She had four arms.

The leader of The Three couldn't believe her eyes.

And she had pulled two submachineguns out from behind her with her top two arms while unhooking two more SMGs from her belt with her bottom two arms.

Detective Mullens had seen the four-armed woman as well, how she had revealed her abnormality by throwing off her trench coat. It wasn't only the arms. Her eyes were amber and glowing like Blossom's. She wore a catsuit underneath, though it didn't look like any ordinary catsuit. It seemed thicker, functional with the aesthetics a mere coincidence and byproduct of necessary design.

He popped out to fire off a few more shots, missing every one of them. Seeing the four-armed woman had thrown him off. Something screwy was going on in the Lucky Strip Club. He'd known that the drugs were something weird even though he'd yet to get results from forensics and the labs.

Blossom was worried. Most of the gunfire was directed at Detective Mullens, and she knew that he was more fragile than she was. She had to do something, and quick. She looked at Bubbles and Buttercup. Bubbles was shaking with fright, while Buttercup was restless, adjusting and readjusting her grip on her new toy - her light machinegun. She looked at Blossom impatiently, waiting for instructions, telling her to hurry up with her eyes, just a hair trigger away from breaking off and doing her own thing.

Detective Mullens popped up one more time, letting off another round from his revolver, this time landing a shot - but that shot had only gone through a mobster's shoulder. The lucky man screamed as he collapsed behind his cover. In that instant, the four-armed woman had pointed all four of her SMGs at him and let it rip. Before he could duck down, a wall of bullets slammed into his position. He felt some metal ripping at his right arm and shoulder. He saw literal sprays of blood from his body. He counted three rounds, but couldn't tell if they were still in him. He fell clumsily back down, couldn't help but to scream as pain gripped his entire body.

It prompted Blossom to get a move on as she feared for his life. "Buttercup, shoot at them but don't kill them! Bubbles, smoke grenades at Mister Mullens!"

"Finally!" Buttercup remarked with a smirk as she popped up and pointed her machinegun at the closest table. She squeezed the trigger and peppered it with bullets. The Lombardi enforcer behind it ducked. She was about to move on to damage another cover when the four arms of the mysterious woman made her pause and look. She ducked down when her observation fought back, firing two of its four SMGs at her.

Bubbles had frozen solid. Blossom took her by both shoulders and shook her hard. "Smoke grenades, Bubbles! Mister Mullens is in trouble!"

Although her face was an ice sheet, Bubbles nodded and unpinned a smoke grenade with shaking hands. Blossom looked on. At least she remembered what to do with the cylindrical thing. Squeezing the lever, she threw it at Detective Mullens' bar counter, but her hands were shaking too much that it fell short and bounced off the side of it, ending up in between the Girls' bar and his. "Throw another one, Bubbles! Right in front of him!"

Buttercup, in the meantime, had returned to spraying bullets across the room, forcing most of the mobsters to duck. Some retaliated, but had either missed or were only able to bounce bullets off Buttercup's helmet as she hid in turn. The latter were mere annoyance, as only a few hit home.

Bubbles unpinned another smoke grenade, and after going through the motions, lobbed it. This time, despite her trembling fingers, she managed to land it right in front of the detective's bar counter.

"Good, now take Mister Mullens back to Mister Blake when I tell you to!" Blossom ordered as she prepared for the next part of her strategy. As Buttercup continued to fire her new toy wildly, Blossom looked up at the wall on the left and the ceiling. There was nothing there to prevent the bad guys and four-armed woman from shooting her, but there was no other way.

Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled two flashbangs off her vest, unpinned and primed them and threw them towards the bad guys. "Hide!" she screamed at Buttercup, who was still shooting. When the tomboy, who was clearly enjoying it, was still lost in her revelry, she took her by the arms and pulled her down. Bubbles covered both her ears and shut her eyes as she sat by them, knees to her chest. The room exploded in a blinding flash of white and an explosion so loud it drowned the room in a ringing silence after that.

"Bubbles, go!" Blossom ordered as she unslung her Serbu Super Shorty. Bubbles leaped over the counter, running towards Detective Mullens. Blossom looked to the ceiling and jumped, willing her invisible 'wings' to push her up, and it did. She held her little shotgun in her left hand and controlled her flight by holding her right palm down towards the ground. She did a sort of wall-run towards the bad guys' side, but she could only do so for so long before she had to kick herself off the wall and float herself down to the ground. Even then, it was a rough landing, as she fell on her left shoulder.

The gangsters were just recovering, and didn't see her there. The four-armed woman was still facing forward, her attention split between her sisters and friend as she fired her right SMGs at Buttercup's bar counter and her left SMGs at the detective's. Blossom aimed her gun at a gangster's leg and fired, putting him down. She did the same to several others, putting pellets in an arm at one corner, then a leg in the next. One gangster fell after another, clutching their limbs, their faces screwed up in intense pain. A multitude of guns swung around to face her. Four-Armed Woman spun around, aiming her left two SMGs at Buttercup, and her right two SMGs at Blossom, and opened fire once more, never seeming to run out of bullets.

In the meantime, Bubbles had reached Detective Mullens. The shirt underneath his trench coat was completely soaked in blood. Blood was dripping down the sleeve of his trench coat. "Bubbles-" he said weakly, still clutching onto his large revolver with his left hand. He smiled at her, felt like a stupid old man for what he said earlier. He wasn't the young man he used to be - back then, thirty of them wouldn't have meant shit. Back then, thirty of them would have surrendered just because he was around. But now, he'd paid for his overconfidence with his blood, and he'd tipped the floor rather generously.

"Mister Mullens! Oh no!" Bubbles came up to him. "You're hurt really badly! Blossom said to take you away!"

Blossom hid behind a pillar as bullets peppered it. She tapped her radio. "Buttercup! Start punching! Now!" Blossom shouted into her mic. Sure enough, Buttercup vaulted over the bar counter, racing towards the distracted mobsters. She crashed through a table, taking one down instantly. Blossom got out, stepped off the floor and literally flew towards the closest bad guy and delivered a flying punch - which connected because her target was stunned by how she was actually flying towards him, like some cherub of justice in SWAT gear.

Four-Armed Woman was gone in the meantime. Buttercup got up from a tangled mess of broken furniture and wounded mobster, and charged at the next closest one, still hiding behind a table. The guy that Mullens shot, with a hole in his shoulder and stubborn enough to pull an old pistol out. He was only able to get a few shots out at Buttercup before she swept his legs and punched him out when he fell, sending his teeth scattering across the floor. A few of his friends saw the brutality and fired shotgun shells and rifle bullets at her. Buttercup hid behind the steel table, and on seeing the beautiful bone pearls she had harvested from the wounded mobster's mouth, collected a few of them feverishly before depositing them in her pants pocket with a greedy smile on her face. They just looked so beautiful…

Bubbles, in the meantime, was helping Detective Mullens out, allowing him to lean on her as she walked the old man back out of the bar. "Poor Mister Mullens… My friends will make you feel better."

"I'll be fine, just lemme-" the detective reassured her as he pulled out his radio with his wounded arm. Pain rippled through it, but he tolerated it - it couldn't be compared to the sorry state of his family life, or his reputation and career as a cop.

Blossom, on seeing that Buttercup was pinned down at a table with half the remaining bad guys shooting freely at her, charged straight at them. They didn't have much time to react, and they could only fire so many rounds in her way at a pinch. One cut through the ribbon on her helmet and several slammed into her helmet, chest and arms, doing nothing but making her wince. She jumped up into a flight path midway, aiming a flying kick at one of them, knocking him across the room. She stopped in the crowd, hovering such that she was as 'tall' as them. One of them whipped his rifle stock at her, but she grabbed it and punched him sideways by the jaw; he collapsed immediately, unconscious. A third man shoved the barrel of his pump-action shotgun at her chest and fired, sending her spinning out of control, slamming into a wall. Buttercup had tackled him by the legs too late, but when they were both on the floor, she discovered that she had broken the both of them, leaving the gangster squirming on the floor in pain. She quickly crawled up to his head and delivered a devastating punch, again spilling teeth out. She took a few as trophies.

The mob underboss, a thickset man, looked on in disbelief as Buttercup continued to beat his men up. Blossom soon flew back into the fray, turning her poor flight control into an advantage by barreling into another mobster and delivering a knock-out blow.

"I think it's time you leave!" a female voice said from behind another pillar. There were mechanical clanking sounds coming from behind there. The mysterious woman had reloaded out of sight. Blossom wasn't sure who she was talking to, until the mob underboss grabbed a suitcase of his and ran. The few men he had left followed.

"They're getting away!" Blossom shouted. Buttercup looked around from the last bad guy she took down. Just when they were about to pursue the fleeing gangsters, Four-Armed Woman blocked the way, her SMGs reloaded. Blossom glanced at her weapons. They all had magazines bigger than her own - no wonder she had so many bullets! Her amber eyes, shining like theirs, the pupils splitting to twice their number, stared at Blossom.

"Who are you anyway? Why're you helping those bad people?" Blossom interrogated the insect-like woman.

"I go by Naga - and that will be the last name you'll hear before you perish!" the woman shrieked, before training two SMGs on each of the Girls. The Girls looked at each other, and each took off in the opposite direction as bullets bit at them like rabid wolves. Blossom practically flew to one of the bars the mob Enforcers had vacated while Buttercup did the same in an opposite bar.

Having found cover, Blossom pumped her shotgun, rose up and pulled the trigger, only for it to click emptily. Naga was coming towards her, having chosen her as her first victim. Bullets peppered her, and she fell back down. Naga's ammunition hurt more. Unknown to them, she was using military-grade rounds, armor-piercing all.

Putting her shotgun down on the ground, Blossom unslung her MP5 and popped out once more, only for Naga to be right in front of her. Blossom screamed in fright, and when she fired her weapon in panic, it had already been grabbed and pushed out of the way.

Blossom had learned the hard way that Naga's strength was also enhanced. Stronger, since she had two spare arms. With her lower two, she had wrestled Blossom's SMG away. She felt metal sing in her mouth as Naga whipped her with one of her SMGs. Next thing she knew, she was thrown into a wall, and she felt worse than the crater she'd made after that.

Buttercup rushed up at Naga and started delivering punches, but she was able to redirect them all harmlessly. Unlike the Girls, she'd had years of martial arts training, and with the Chemical N in her body, was almost able to match their raw power.

"Why don't you stay still!" Buttercup punctuated each of her punches and kicks with each word, but she wasn't able to land a hit. The moment there was an opening, Naga swiped her foot at Buttercup. "Woah!" But she ducked and dodged through sweeping kick, by a fraction of an inch. She felt it in her hair. But that had only been half the trick. Rearing up, Naga delivered a second – a side kick without putting her foot down, sending Buttercup flying across the room. She landed on her feet, skidding on the marble floor. But Naga didn't intend for her to stay up for long.

Unhooking her lower SMGs from her belt, she pointed all four of her guns at Buttercup and fired, like a walking, breathing flak cannon. Buttercup put up her hands, and immediately felt it all over her, causing her to stumble backwards, ripping and tearing through her SWAT gear and uniform. It was an endless torrent of metal and pain, and even as Buttercup met the wall, Naga did not stop.

"Aaaaargh!" Buttercup screamed in pure agony as she felt even her helmet shot off. Some bullets had gotten past her hands and struck her goggles, shattering it. Glass shards exploded inwards, stinging her eyes. But still, it did not let up.

Until it did.

"Get off me, you brat!" Naga screamed, uncharacteristic of a human flak cannon.

Bubbles had returned earlier to find Buttercup in trouble, screaming like it was her final moment as she suffered Naga's metal rain. She'd ran up to Naga without a moment's notice, even though she was bereft of any plan or tactic. She had jumped up on Naga's back, pulling at her upper arms in a crude double arm-lock, sending Naga into a panic, as she knew what one of those Girls could potentially do.

"Leave my sister alone, you meanie!" Bubbles screamed in fury, her voice painfully shrill as she hung onto Naga like a monkey on her back. The four-armed woman twirled and spun in an attempt to get the enhanced little girl off her, but she was too strong.

When the endless rain of bullets had stopped, Buttercup had never been more grateful in her short life. But it had all been too much. The pain that Naga had caused her continued to linger in its debilitating intensity. She sank to her knees, her arms wrapped around her stomach, where most of the bullets had landed. Her SWAT gear and uniform were reduced to rags. Her vest hung in an uncomfortably lopsided manner. She threw it off, and the smoke grenades and flashbangs on it went off with a pathetic wisp of smoke, having been too damaged to do their job. She could barely see - one of her eyes was shut and couldn't open because of the glass shards in it, and the other was watery from pain. Her hair was a mess, as if she had just woke up in the morning. She couldn't move, paralyzed by traumatic pain, only stare at what was before her.

Bubbles could feel hands closing in around her ankles as Naga tried to get her off. They tugged at her, trying to pull her down. But Bubbles held on, her arms wrapped around Naga's upper arms. Panicking and out of options (that she knew of), she bit down on Naga's neck, and the four-armed woman howled when she felt teeth sinking into her neck. Bubbles could taste blood, and had even accidentally drank a little of it, and it was deeply unpleasant. The woman pointed her guns backwards, firing blindly, trying to hit Bubbles, but they would always miss, until she pressed their barrels right up to Bubbles' head, left and right, and pulled the triggers. That finally got Bubbles to let go, both because of the impact of the bullets as well as the noise of gunshots right in her ears.

Bubbles was blown off her back, and Naga whirled around, backing away, actually feeling threatened by the Girls for the first time. Bubbles got up, looking up at Naga with the woman's blood on her lips and cheeks. The little girl went for her stockless XM4 carbine, but Naga was faster on the draw, as she already had her guns in hand.

Blossom, in the meantime, had recovered and floated up from her cover. Buttercup, similarly, got to her feet, unsteady, but not out for the count. Noticing that she was still outnumbered, Naga fired on Bubbles, knocking her down, before rushing up to her as she put away her lower SMGs. Picking up Bubbles by the neck, she started taking off pins from her flashbangs. Bubbles tried to wrench her hand off her, but Naga simply slugged her across the cheek.

"Let Bubbles go, Naga!" Blossom shouted. There were footsteps in the distance, a whole lot of them. A whole group of people were coming. Friend or foe, no one knew.

After unpinning Bubbles' flashbangs, Naga primed them and held Bubbles up to her sisters, using her body as a shield against the blinding light that was to come. "See you, girls. It's been fun," she said. The flashbangs detonated just as Agent Blake and his men arrived, drowning everything in white light.

Bubbles felt her eyes burn, and Naga dropping her.

For the longest seconds in the universe, there was only a big bang, then white void and silence, which faded away only gradually.

Lucky Strip Club. Mission Time - 40 mins

"Oh, my eyes…" Buttercup said as she rubbed them, she tried pulling out the glass shards in her right eye, but it was an impossible endeavor with just her bare hands.

Blossom was the least affected, having hid at the last minute, but the blast of light had still caught her. Her vision felt blurry, but that soon faded. Naga was nowhere to be found, having ran away while everyone in the room was stunned. The sight of Buttercup shocked her. She had almost nothing to cover her upper body, and she was bleeding from the nose and mouth, likely from the kick Naga had give her. She looked like she had been dragged through a forest by a horse. She floated towards her. "Buttercup! Are you okay!?" she asked out of concern.

Buttercup opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped short. Her hand went up to her mouth, and she looked green, lesser than her irises and ruined uniform, but still- She stumbled forward and bent over. Blossom took her by an arm, but Buttercup pulled her arm violently away from her. Without warning, Buttercup vomited all over the floor the remains of her cake and fruit juice. It took her a while to get it done, but when she tried to straighten up again, the nausea returned, and she retched once more, and hurled a little more on top of her cake and fruit juice. Blossom resisted the urge to say 'ewwwww!', knowing that her sister was suffering.

"Augh, disgusting!" Buttercup spat, then literally spat some saliva. Agent Blake came up to her with a water canteen in hand.

"Here, wash it out with this," he said. Buttercup took it urgently, poured what seemed to be half the content into her mouth, before gargling and then spitting the mixture down on her multi-layered puddle of vomit.

Bubbles, in the meantime, was just sitting up as she rubbed her eyes. A bruise had formed on her cheek where Naga had slugged her. Blossom helped her up. Like Buttercup, she was feeling dizzy from all the hits she had taken. "Are you alright, Bubbles?"

"I don't… know…" Bubbles said, still reeling. In the meantime, Agent Blake's soldiers were securing the downed Lombardi enforcers, who were sensible enough to stay down after getting treated to some girl power.

"Blossom, where's the rest of them?" Agent Blake asked.

"The rest of-?" Blossom repeated as she looked around the room. Then she remembered. The rest of them had ran away. Urgency returned to her heart. "They've ran away! We've got to catch them!" She turned to her sisters. "Bubbles, Buttercup! We have to go! Now!"

"Do we have to?" Bubbles asked, reluctant after what she had gone through.

"Yes! We can't keep letting the bad guys go! They'll hurt the innocent!" Blossom said, based on her loose understanding of crime. "Are you up to it, Buttercup?"

"Always," Buttercup said.

"Blossom, wait!" Agent Blake said, but the Girls were already speeding away. "Girls, wait! You can't go out there!" He'd hoped that they could hear him, but his hope was unfounded.

The Girls were out of the building before they knew it. Just then, a car had exited the parking complex from the other side of the road, breaking a toll booth barrier and knocking down a stop sign in the process. Blossom concentrated her vision upon the car, willing them to see through the metal frame of the vehicle.

"It's them!" Bllossom exclaimed before starting down the road in pursuit. Bubbles and Buttercup followed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 57: The Strip (Part 3)

The Strip. Mission Time - 41 mins

Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup pursued the mob underboss' car down the road of The Strip, a busy entertainment district in Townsville. The mob car, an ominously black thing, weaved between the traffic, trying to throw off the Girls - but this was where the Girls had better control - a car was artificial, with clunky controls, while the Girls were using their natural mode of locomotion. They turned and jumped to avoid the cars in their way. Blossom tried to fly as fast, but she couldn't control herself right, and nearby tumbled on the ground - she resigned herself to sprinting on the asphalt.

"Blossom, come in!" Agent Blake said on the radio. Blossom did not reply. She was too busy trying to gain on the mob underboss' car. It was on a general channel such that all three of the Girls could hear him. "Blossom, you can't go out there! Bubbles? Buttercup? Are you picking this up!?"

"Why not, Mister Blake?" Blossom finally replied as she was, slowly, coming up to the mob car, but she and her sisters were thrown off slightly when the black car drifted right, then left, circumnavigating a tight group of cars, confusing them. As they zoomed past the cars and pedestrians on the road bearing pleasure seekers, they were attracting all sorts of attention. Eyes turned to them as they sped past, eyes belonging to people who were wondering what was going on, who observed that three little girls were somehow matching the speed of a car, and two of them looked like they were miniature riot cops with the third appearing to have been beaten up by gangbangers.

"Blos- you- breaking up! Don't-" Agent Blake tried to warn Blossom, but she was fast going out of radio range. "No one is- to know that- what you're doing is- -posed to be a secret!"

"Mister Blake? Mister Blake!" Blossom shouted into the mic, but there was no reply.

Bubbles got close to her. "What did Mister Blake say?" Bubbles asked

"I think he wants us to keep our fighting crime a secret!" Blossom said.

"That's lame!" Buttercup commented as she got up next to her while they were pursuing the car.

Blossom couldn't even consider stopping - the criminals were just right in front of them, close but not too close. They continued running, gaining on the black car. They had never run this fast in their life before, short as it might have been. The gangsters' car swerved right, then left again to avoid a row of cars. The Girls broke up, with Blossom going left, Bubbles going right, and Buttercup jumping on top of a car blocking them, landing on threes and denting the roof, breaking a glass on top. The occupants inside screamed. She then proceeded to hop on the family saloon directly in front of it, doing the same damage, before skipping the first car entirely and landing in front of it into an immediate sprint. It startled the driver however, who was already distracted by the seemingly supernatural happening going on in his rear-view mirror. The car swerved out of control and braked suddenly, causing a vehicle pile-up.

They were easily going 100 miles an hour, or more, and as they kept pushing themselves, they quickly gained on the black car.

"Shit! What the fuck are these- these girls!" the mob underboss in his car screamed. "Drive faster!" The driver obliged by switching gears, pushing the car to its maximum limit. It sped up to 110 miles an hour, 115 miles an hour. Blossom saw this, then pushed herself even harder - but she was starting to feel the same thing that regular human beings would feel on an extended sprint - exhaustion and pain setting in, in her limbs. Sweat pouring down her forehead, heat building up, breath that was harder to catch. Her sisters did the same to match her speed. Buttercup saw this as a challenge, and soon overtook her.

Within seconds, they were mere feet away from the car.

"What do we do?" Bubbles asked Blossom.

"We jump inside and punch them out!" Blossom said. Just then, one of the gangsters poked out of a window. He pulled out an old AR-15 rifle and fired on Buttercup, causing her to stumble as she put up a hand to shield her face. It'd slowed her down, but it did not knock her back. Another gangster poked out of another window, this time with a Spas-12 shotgun and fired pellets at Bubbles, catching her in the shoulder; if her heart wasn't pumping at full speed, then it'd just reached it. She could feel the freeze washing over her, but she refused to back down. Memories from earlier incidents with a shotgun flashed before her eyes. She stumbled, and nearly fell. Blossom was shot too.

The high speed chase was soon after taken to the highway towards another part of Townsville. The cars there were faster, the stakes higher.

Blossom pulled her pistol out, having left behind her primary armaments back in the Lucky Strip Club. "Scare them with our guns!" she told her sisters. Buttercup pulled her own pistol out as well. Bubbles raised her stockless XM4 Carbine. "Don't kill anyone!"

Blossom fired several rounds at them, putting holes in the trunk. The men hid inside their car. Buttercup placed several rounds square in the back window, which shattered. The black car swerved a little, almost spinning out, but the driver managed to bring it back under control. Bubbles raised her weapon, but flashes of blood in her memory when she punched one of the bad guys overwhelmed her - she didn't fire.

The mob car overtook several more cars, attempting ever-more dangerous maneuvers, whatever it took, to shake off the Girls, but the Girls were far too agile with their body than a man in a car could ever compete against. All around them, people in other cars watched in bewilderment, excitement, as well as fear, shock - an entanglement of feelings that couldn't be described. Three children in a family saloon watched the Girls speed by, and thought it was cool, pointing at them and chattering wildly. Their parents' mouths were agape.

Highway patrolmen who were nearby soon joined in the fray. A police car and a motorcycle cop. The police cruiser matched the Girls' and the black car's speed, going up beside them, their sirens blaring and police light bars blazing. Not far away, there were more sirens.

The Girls were gaining on the black car once more. The gangsters popped out to shoot. The shotgunner pumped multiple shells into Buttercup in quick succession, who stumbled sideways towards the police cruiser. She jumped towards it and kicked herself off the door of the police cruiser, giving herself a boost. The police cruiser swung out of control, crashing into railings by the highway; sparks flew, but it was still going forward strong, only slowing down slightly.

Blossom exchanged fire with the assault rifle mobster, who was able to put a few more in the little girl, who only yelped in pain, no worse for wear. Blossom, on the other hand, was able to put a bullet in the mobster's arm, who dropped his weapon and fell back into the car. She looked to Bubbles, another idea forming in her head.

"Bubbles, jump into their car! Now!" Blossom commanded, despite doubting her sweet sister's will or way to deal with bad guys. She could only hope. To cover her blue-eyed sister's advance, she fired more rounds at the car, forcing the wounded mobster to huddle in the backseat - she'd seen him draw a pistol, but had succeeded in stopping him from using it. The mob underboss pulled his own pistol out. Aiming behind him, he fired shots through the now-broken back windshield at Blossom, perceiving her as the greater threat - the leading little girl's plan was working.

Bubbles homed in on the car, and Blossom noticed something; blue trail forming behind her legs, like some sort of… exhaust, like car exhaust, but cleaner and brilliant in Bubbles' color. Looking down at her own legs, she noticed the same thing - except her exhaust, or trail, was pink. Buttercup was starting to emit the same trail. In keeping up with the mob car, they had been pushing 120 miles per hour without realizing it, forcing them into a form of overdrive. But it was tiring - extremely tiring.

The mob shotgunner leaned out and trained his weapon on Bubbles. Buttercup spotted this and shot first at him, missing because of how much she was shaking from exhaustion, but ultimately forcing the shotgunner to go back into the safety of his car. Another police car came up beside the Girls, right beside Buttercup to the right, this time with its left window wound down. A police officer with square jaws and a pair of shades hollered with a loudhailer, but despite his officious and strong appearance, his voice was riddled with uncertainty: "This is the police! Lit-little girls, whoever you are, whatever you are, you are to pull over- stop whatever you're doing and wait by the highway!"

Unfortunately for the Girls, only a tiny part of the police force were ever aware of them - the vast majority of the rank and file knew nothing about The Three of Project Powerpuff. To the police officers on site, it was like being in some kind of a weird Japanese anime at best and a frightening monster movie at worst.

"Can't you see we're busy, mister!?" Buttercup yelled at the police officer.

"You are to stop and lay down your arms!" the police officer insisted with his loudhailer. Buttercup was annoyed, but mere annoyance ceased to cover it within seconds. She was seething with anger - How could this lowly normal human being interrupt her reverie at work? "You're… You're breaking the law!"

"Shut up!" Buttercup screamed madly at the police officer before raising her pistol at the police officer and firing a few rounds, but only damaging his door. The police officer ducked. Buttercup's pistol clicked, hollow of rounds. Blossom saw this and came up beside her, pulling her gun arm down.

"Buttercup! No shooting at policemen!" Blossom reprimanded her wayward sister. Meanwhile, Bubbles took a leap at the mob car, and actually flew faster than her intended target. For a moment, she thought that she might overshoot the car, but she was able to grab hold of the hood - for a second, anyway. She slipped, as the hood was slick with bits of snow, and fell onto the trunk of the mob car, before finally finding purchase on the frame of the broken back windshield. The mob underboss took notice and pointed his pistol at her, firing point-blank rounds at her.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Bubbles screamed. The wounded mobster on the backseat did the same, unloading his pistol at her. She lunged forward, slapping his gun away. But then came the shotgunner, who pointed his shotgun directly at Bubbles' face, and fired without hesitation, bouncing pellets off her helmet first, snapping her head back, before firing another shell, aimed at her mouth. That got her to let go, sending her tumbling on the highway at high speed.

"Bubbles!" Blossom screamed, immediately beating herself over the fact that she'd sent her to the car in the first place. Bubbles was left far behind very quickly. Blossom looked back.

Bubbles rolled on the asphalt a fair distance, her body on fire from the pain. Her mouth felt like a dentist had a manic marathon on it. Looking down the highway, she saw a four-wheeled jeep rushing up at her, cars were honking everywhere, as if warning the jeep. Even with her superior reaction time, she couldn't get out of the way. She felt herself getting flattened on the road, a tire grinding over her as the jeep ran over her, then a second as the jeep spun out of control, but managed to go forward a fair distance before another car crashed into it. She felt faint after that. She could barely move, her nerves completely fried from the burning, electrifying agony running through her body.

But the traffic on the highway was still flowing despite. Next, a semi-truck came up at her, the driver was unable to see her at first due to other vehicles blocking the way. When he did, it was just barely. He blasted the giant machine's horns, hoping that the little girl would roll out of the way or pick herself up and run.

Bubbles didn't. She'd only managed to sit up, only for the bottom of the semi's face to slam into hers before she went under the vehicle. Despite pain being the only, singular thing on her mind right then, she was able to clutch tightly onto the bumper of the vehicle, avoiding the numerous wheels of the giant mechanical beast. The truck stopped too late. It drifted down a ramp, taking Bubbles along with it, the cargo container it was hauling following with it and then keeling over. Cars behind it had to stop, causing another pile-up on the highway.

At the very least, Bubbles did not have to suffer the pain for too long after that, as she drifted into unconsciousness, her tears of agony and whimper cut short.

Blossom and Buttercup did not stop. They couldn't, not if they had to make it all worth the pain. Blossom turned around to face the mob car again, with tears in her eyes. She clenched her jaw, turned her eyebrows into an angry valley. She turned to Buttercup, who was still able to keep up.

"Buttercup!" she shouted at her other sister, with only a slight tremble in her voice as she was able to keep most of the pain in her heart out, at least temporarily. "We run up to them together!"

By then, the cruisers with the TPD following them had multiplied. The one next to Buttercup hadn't broken away. Instead of helping them, however, the police officer Buttercup had shot at had pulled out his service pistol and aimed it at Buttercup. He didn't warn her but fired immediately after that.

It quickly became a three-way skirmish after that. Another police cruiser came up to Blossom on the left. The police officer who was driving pulled out her service pistol and fired at the mob car, aiming at the tires, but unable to hit it from her angle. She turned to look at Blossom, was startled by the intimidating look of her pink, glowing eyes, and started firing at her - it didn't help that the police officer whom Buttercup fired upon had reported that the Girls were hostile, armed and dangerous.

Meanwhile, the gangsters in the mob car spread their attention across both the police cruisers and the Girls. The wounded mobster fired pot shots, once at Blossom, then at the police officer shooting at Blossom. The shotgunner did the same with Buttercup and her police assailant. It was a mess, which had the Girls confused.

"Ow! Stop!" Blossom shouted at the policewoman unloading her gun at her. Finally, after she'd had it, she got up to the police car and jumped on the policewoman's driver seat door, hanging on it. Seizing the policewoman's gun, she gave it a twist, disarming her. "I'm trying to stop the bad guys! Stop shooting at me!"

The policewoman, startled and held in an awkward position because of Blossom's arm lock, couldn't control her cruiser as well. Her partner, a lean cop, pulled a shotgun on her, but before he could fire, the cruiser had hit the railing, then the car up front. His aim was thrown off, and he accidentally discharged his shotgun on the windshield of his own cruiser. Blossom jumped off, to avoid Bubbles' fate, but the police cruiser did not lose control, and had merely slowed to regain it. She had accidentally stolen the policewoman's service pistol, a Glock. She returned to Buttercup. "Now, Buttercup!"

They both jumped, and caught hold of the trunk of the car. It helped that it was riddled with bullets, but even then, as they climbed the trunk of the car, they were able to dig holes into it with their fingers. The shotgunner, ever the enthusiastic one, fired buckshots at Buttercup, causing her to lose her grip, hanging on by only a hand. Blossom pointed her police Glock at the shotgunner. Exhausted, her aim was off, and with the car shaking, she accidentally put a round squarely in his chest. The gangster fell backwards, a spray of blood coming from his chest, much to her shock, but she didn't, couldn't let it affect her.

Meanwhile, Buttercup was able to recover her grip. The mob underboss and the mobster who was wounded in the arm took several shots at her, but it was far too little, too late. Dropping down into the backseat, she took the wounded man by the collar and punched him out. With almost no one left to hinder them, Blossom was able to get into the car. Exhausted, upset, but worst of all, furious at what the Lombardi muscles had done to Bubbles, she tore the head of his seat off, before doing the same with the body of the shotgun chair. Exposed, Mob Underboss squeezed himself towards the front windshield with a startled shout, but his safety belt got in the way. He pointed his pistol at Blossom's forehead and squeezed the trigger. It came up empty. Blossom smacked it away, and delivered a straight punch to his face, knocking him out instantly. Buttercup threw a right hook at the driver, who barely put up a fight - he'd drawn his pistol, but was KO'ed before he could even fire it.

"We did it!" Buttercup shouted in triumph, throwing her fists up in celebration. But there was still one problem left.

"Um, Buttercup, how do we stop a car?" Blossom asked her sister. But at least the police had stopped shooting at them, on seeing that things had quietened down. Instead, they'd returned to their loudhailer, screaming their orders to stop and not resist arrest, among other things.

"I thought you'd know, Blossom!" Buttercup retorted, on realizing that they were in trouble. "You're the smart one, Daddy said!"

"I didn't ask you to knock the driver out, Buttercup!" Blossom screamed at her aggressive sister - there was just too much in her heart without Buttercup topping it off with her shenanigans. She racked her brain for a solution. How do cars brake? She'd seen those machines at work, and she'd seen how the wheels would stop turning. Was that it?

"Hurry up, sis!" Buttercup pressed her as the car collided with another up front, slowing down from the impact, but still going straight and accelerating. Unknown to them, the driver, although knocked out, still had his foot on the accelerator.

"I got it!" Blossom exclaimed, a momentary smile on her face. "Buttercup, open the door on your side." Buttercup did as she was told, but instead of opening it, she pulled it off its hinges and let it drop. The car door went under the police cruiser behind them. Blossom opened the backseat door on the right.

"Alright, lean out, Buttercup! We need to use our feet to stop the car!" Blossom said. "Ready?"

Buttercup honestly thought that it was a good idea. After all, she had come up with none herself and her mind was barren of creativity. She leaned out, and prepared to grind her feet on the highway. She thought that it was going to hurt. Blossom knew better; it was going to be excruciating.

"Go!" Blossom ordered as she jumped out and held onto the car by the door frame. The moment her feet touched the road, she felt a pull, as if the road was sucking her in, and heat building up. Her feet was towards the front, her body diagonal as she fought against the engine of the car. Buttercup did the same, and the car seemed to be slowing down.

The friction ate away at their boots. It felt like a million rope burns, sandpaper filing away at their feet. But the car slowed, crossing the 120 miles per hour, to 110 mph, then 100 mph. But the pain was all too much. Blossom had ran out of boots, and the bottom of her fatigue had even caught fire. The car was exerting too much force on a weakened Blossom, and so her legs gave out, and Buttercup was alone in trying to stop the car.

Only, Buttercup was grinding her feet on the ground from one side, causing the car to swerve out of control to the right, hitting the police cruiser that had accelerated and come up beside it. The mob car had accelerated once more, and both vehicles smashed into another car ahead, which spun out of control, and tumbled on the road. Both mob car and police cruiser crashed into it, and more cars from the back crashed behind them, causing the mother of all pile-ups, the third one on the same highway.

The Girls felt themselves thrown forward as the mob car finally came to a stop, partially from engine failure, but the poor victims ahead of them had acted as a bumper. They were barely able to hold on.

It took what seemed like forever for things to calm down and come to a stop. When it did, both Girls let go of the door frame of the mob car, lying on the ground, all tired out, pain coursing through their veins. Police cars pulled up at the mess they had caused. When the police officers in those cruisers came up to Blossom, who was just sitting up, she thought that they were there to help her…

Cue half a dozen of them pointing pistols and shotguns at her. "Police, freeze! Do not move!"

Buttercup was surrounded by just as many of them. "Don't move! Drop your weapons!" But Buttercup did not listen. Instead, she was incredulous and furious at the kind of treatment she had received after all she had done. She stood up in defiance, her pistol in hand. "Freeze! Or we'll shoot!"

"Buttercup, no!" Blossom shouted at her sister.

"But-!" Buttercup objected, but Blossom did not wait.

"They're policemen, Buttercup! We have to listen to them!" Blossom told her. Buttercup seemed to consider this, but remembered the power Blossom had over her. Reluctantly, Buttercup dropped her Beretta pistol. Blossom dropped the police Glock she had taken from the policewoman. She then reached for her own sidearm, but she had done it too fast. The more trigger-happy of the police firing squad attending to her had put several rounds in her chest in response, knocking her down such that she dropped to her knees. "Ouch! Stop hurting me!"

Another police officer had to stop the more gung-ho of them from firing, and Blossom finally pulled her pistol out and dropped it. "What the hell are you?" one of them, the shades-wearing officer Buttercup had shot at, asked rhetorically, upon realizing that these Girls were nigh-indestructible. The police officers were all looking at each other, or looking at Blossom with mouths hanging.

"Get over to your girl friend and go down to your knees!" another police officer ordered Buttercup to do so. Sluggishly, both from the exertion of the mission and unwillingness, Buttercup did as she was told and got up next to Blossom and knelt down beside her. More police officers swarmed over the mob car, checking for survivors.

"Are they alive in there?" the shades-wearing officer asked his colleague.

"Yep, I recognize them. The Neanderthals from The Strip. I think we have two stiffs here. Matthias is one of them," one of the officers checking the car reported.

"Not yet! We'll pull them out for a CPR," another officer added. "We got two breathing at the backseat though. One of them's in a really bad way. Shot in the chest. Get the ambulance, ASAP!"

Blossom stared at the floor as the scene played out around her, in the smoking ruins of the cars and highway. So much had happened within an hour, almost all of which she regretted. But there was no more room for tears, not yet, for she was still struggling to process everything that had happened and in a way, she would prefer to push those dark thoughts away for fear of what they might tell her.

Chapter Text

Chapter 58: Consequences

Highway 13. Mission Time - 55 mins.

"Hands on your head where I can see them!" the leading police officer shouted at the Girls, who reluctantly did as they asked. Similar questions ran through both Blossom and Buttercup's head: What did we do wrong? But Blossom knew the answer, at least part of it: she had accidentally killed the bad guys, and she had shot one of them in the wrong place. She remembered the anatomy chart Miss Keane had given her, and she remembered, with crystal clarity, where she had shot the shotgunner. The bullet had gone into a lung, which meant that the shotgun gangster stood a high chance of dying.

Ten police officers continued to train their guns on the Girls while two rather brave cops went around them and took their arms, swinging them around to their backs, handcuffing them. They made sure that the cuffs were tight. The leading police officer, the one in square-jawed man in shades, with buzz-cut hair, came up to them, examining them, scanning them.

"You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law," the police officer said. " You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future." The police officer read the rest of the Miranda warning, but the Girls couldn't understand the half of it; they did not understand what a 'court of law' was, or what was meant by 'rights'. They had no idea what an 'attorney' was.

"Do you understand?" the police officer finally asked. Blossom glanced up at the police officer, her eyes as human as they were ethereal because of how abject they were, filled as much with misery as it seemed to be pulsing with energy.

"No…" Blossom said, a single tear-drop falling, as she was still keeping it all in. "We were only trying to help."

"Help? Do you know how much damage you've done?" the leading police officer chided. He turned to another officer beside him. "How many affected, give me an estimation."

"40, maybe 50, most of them likely wounded to varying degrees," the other police officer said.

"You've hurt 40 to 50 people today, Some of them could even be dead, little girl," the leading police officer said. "If that's what you are. What are you, anyway?"

"I'm… Blossom," she said. "And this is Buttercup, my sister."

"I didn't ask for your name," Shades Officer said.

"We're little girls…" Blossom insisted.

"Not to me, not from the looks of it. Little girls don't dress up the way you do, and go around hurting people. I think you're bluffing. You're both criminals, belonging to a rival gang - how you manage to run at the speed of a car is another matter," the policeman said.

"But we're not," Blossom said. Two police officers pulled the Girls to their feet.

"You don't get to decide that," Shades Officer said before turning to the officers handling the Girls. "Put them in my car. I'm taking them down to Central Booking."

"You don't get to do that," another voice, this one male as well, said. A familiar voice. The leading police officer turned around. It was Sergeant Blake, with Corporal Rutherland and Corporal FIelds, his number two, with him.

"And who the hell are you?" the leading police officer asked.

"USDO, can't you see the badge?" Sergeant Blake said. He took a glance at Blossom. Their eyes met for a second, before he turned his eyes back to the police officer. Blossom thought the warmth in his eyes was missing. "Those Girls are part of the USDO. Let them go."

"They are part of my jurisdiction now. Look at what they've done to my city! My men are collecting charges now. I bet there's a few dozen waiting for them," Shades Officer insisted, marching up to Agent Blake, putting his face close to his.

"Your jurisdiction is in the city of Townsville. Mine's the entire United States of America. And Townsville," Agent Blake said, not intimidated by the police officer. "This is a federal matter. My authority overrides yours. Hand them over, or you and your pals will have to hand in your badges."

"Go to hell! You feds have nothing on this city! The TPD's been here since forever! And you? You're the new kid around the block!" the leading police officer yelled at Agent Blake, who remained impassive to the police officer.

Agent Blake simply waved a hand upwards. The PTF soldiers behind him knew the hand gesture. They raised their weapons and trained them on the police officers. "You seem to have forgotten something. The USDO has been given certain powers and authority over the TPD. The TPD's been here since forever, and what a stunning job you've done so far, letting the cockroaches and rats breed out of control, letting those vermin into your police department. I can just have you and your men killed right now, and write you off as being corrupted and on the take. After all, you are interfering with USDO business." With the way Agent Blake appeared now, even Blossom was intimidated. He seemed to have changed from how he was before, back when he had taken cared of her sisters and her when Daddy was too ill to do so. Unknown to her, Agent Blake was simply slipping back to his old self.

Stiffly, the leading police officer stepped aside. Blossom's cuff was removed, while Buttercup snapped the chain of her cuff off the moment she saw that she could go. She looked at her wrists, and saw that the cuffs were still there, so she pried those open as well, as if they were little more than threads. There were gasps after that, and some of the police officers looked on in fear, wondering what they were actually dealing with.

Agent Blake marched up to Blossom as she stood up.

"Thanks, Mister Blake," Blossom said, a relieved smile on her face. "I was scared and-"

"Don't you Mister Blake me!" Agent Blake yelled at her. "Didn't you hear me over the radio!?"

"I did, but-" Blossom tried to explain herself, but Blake wouldn't hear it.

"You did! And you didn't listen! I thought we had an understanding, you and me!" Blake continued scolding the little girl, who trembled from being overwhelmed with all sorts of emotions as she looked up at the man, who was supposed to be her friend. Agent Blake took her by the hand and dragged her towards the Lamborghini transport he had piloted to get to her. The speed transport was all scratched up, having endured its own accidents on the way, though certainly nothing like the kind that Blossom and her sisters had caused. "You're in big trouble, Blossom. Same goes for you, Buttercup!" Buttercup had been following along. Spared most of the scolding, she had little reaction to it, and Blake's warning did not carry much weight either.

"But I couldn't let them go! I didn't want it to be like the last time! They'll hurt the innocent, that's what Daddy said!" Blossom tried to explain again. Blake practically threw her forward when he stopped.

"Look in front of you!" Blake demanded. Blossom turned around instead, to look him in the eyes, pleading for him to just stop. Blake stomped up to her and forcibly turned her around again. He held her head tightly with one hand and her right arm tightly with the other. "Look at what you've done!"

Down the highway from where Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup had come from, there were multiple pile-ups along the way. The highway had been blocked off by the traffic police, such that no new vehicles had gone through. Blossom could see it all - there were no obstructions. Numerous ambulances were tending to the wounded, young and old, even children, some appearing as young as her. Some of them looked terrible, with half their clothes covered in blood. Blossom couldn't even hang her head in shame as Agent Blake had held her head up to force her to keep looking.

"And that wasn't all! Because why should it be!?" Blake shouted. "Do you know what would have happened to you and your sisters had I not arrived?"

"No…" Blossom said, close to tears.

"The police would have taken you far away, locked you up in a room, and you'd be lucky if you'll ever see your father again, that's what," Agent Blake explained coldly, anger still seething underneath. "And they would have been right to do so. You've hurt lots of people. I saw them myself when I drove up here. And Christmas is just a few days away."

Blossom was devastated. Had Blake not dragged her to the speed transport, she would have lain down by the side of the highway and let herself rot there for all eternity. All she was trying to do was to help, and yet every time she tried to do something good, she had failed in some way, and what she had done on the highway was the mother of all failures - instead of helping the innocent, she had harmed them instead. Just like the bad guys.

When Blossom was in the speed transport, she squeezed herself into a corner, against the opposite door, which remained closed. She could feel herself trembling, still, from all the things Mister Blake had said, from everything she had done, the exhaustion and pain she had suffered as she chased the Lombardi enforcers down. She held up her hands before her eyes, and saw that her hands were shaking. She gripped them tightly, and closed her eyes, and felt like it wouldn't be a bad idea to just fall asleep forever. Buttercup sat beside her, looking at her, perplexed. As far as Buttercup was concerned, they'd had fun, and whatever consequences there were… were inconsequential. Sure, people were hurt, but so what? So was she, and she had been hurting for a long time - it was only fair.

But Buttercup could feel something in her. The same unnatural emotion welling up in her. Where it was coming from, she didn't know. Looking at Blossom and how pathetic she was, all curled up and shaking in a corner, she could feel it more strongly. She couldn't even understand what it was. Pity? Sadness? Love, even? 'Strong', however, was relative. What Buttercup felt wasn't even half as much as what her more sensitive sisters felt on a regular basis, but next to an emotional vacuum, it might as well be.

"Hey Blossom," she said. If there was any reply from Blossom, it was in the form of a pathetic acknowledging whimper. Blossom was locked in her own head, that had become a theater with a loop of her mistakes replaying over and over. Buttercup did not know what to say. It simply wasn't her way. "You were cool just now, when we stopped the bad guys."

It was as if Blossom had no mouth, and she wanted to scream, just scream so badly. Before Buttercup could say anything else, Agent Blake ducked into the backseat. "Blossom, where did Bubbles go? Blossom?"

Blossom lifted her head with difficulty to look at Blake. Bubbles. Where had she gone? Blossom did not know, and now, all she could think of regarding her sweetest sister was that she was hurt because of her.

"I… don't know," Blossom cried, her voice cracked. She'd slid lower on the backseat, her face pressing into the crook between door and cushion.

"She fell down just now," Buttercup added, standing in for Blossom. "I didn't see her after that, either."

"She was your responsibility, Blossom," Agent Blake reprimanded coldly. "You know how Bubbles can be like, and you just left her behind?" Shaking his head, Agent Blake left the backseat, circled around the car and poked half his body into the driver's seat. He picked up the radio and reported Bubbles' MIA status.

When Blake was done, he sat in the driver's seat, resting an arm against the steering wheel, a hand still clutching the radio as he banged it against his forehead gently, waiting for a reply. The Girls did not know the full extent of what they'd done, even if what they knew was severe enough. Chief of Security Blackwater wouldn't be happy with the outcome of the latest operation, and neither would the Central Committee.

Ramp off Highway 13. 10 minutes earlier. (Mission Time - 45 mins)

When the semi-truck had finally ground to a halt on the ramp leading back down to the city, and all vehicles around it had stopped, the driver of the semi opened his massive door and got out. Hurriedly, he surveyed the wheels of his vehicle for the little girl he had hit, and on finding no one, got to the front. That was where he found Bubbles. Several cars, including the four-wheeled jeep that had ran over the enhanced little girl, had stopped around the semi-truck, their occupants equally worried.

"Little girl? Are you alright?" the truck driver called out to the form underneath his truck. Bubbles had let go of the truck's bumper late into its skid, and as a result hadn't gone too far underneath the truck.

"Jesus, is she alright!?" a man in white T-shirt and jeans came up to the truck driver - as the driver of the four-wheeled jeep who was the first to grind over Bubbles, he was deeply concerned, and not just for the girl she had hit, but his own legal well-being. "Please tell me she's fine!"

A few more men and women had come up to the semi-truck, deeply concerned. A few children watched from inside their cars.

"Well, she ain't responding," the truck driver said. He bent down, before going down on his belly to try to crawl under his semi-truck and get the little girl out.

"I'll help," the jeep driver offered. He got down as well, and crawled towards Bubbles. Together with the truck driver, they dragged her from underneath the truck and out into the open. Meanwhile, someone had pulled out a brick-sized cellphone and called the ambulance.

What everyone saw had drawn a collective gasp of shock, not because of the amount of blood, or gore, or disfigurement, but because Bubbles was… entirely intact, except for the bruise on her cheek, which she had gained during her fight against Naga, and was only worsened by literally getting hit by a truck. One other thing that puzzled the civilian bystanders was the way the little girl was dressed. She was practically equipped for war, as she was dressed in what looked like a miniature riot cop gear, with helmet and goggles, the latter of which had cracked badly, but not entirely shattered. Her stockless XM4 Carbine was still hanging on her shoulder, as was the rest of her weapons.

The truck driver unbuckled her helmet and removed it. Blonde hair, shoulder-length. He took off the broken goggles, and managed to cut himself on a shard accidentally. He winced.

"What the hell is going on with this girl?" another bystander commented.

"Isn't it too late for Halloween?" a woman said.

"I saw her running on the highway - she was even faster than my car!" a man in the crowd claimed.

"That's crazy," another bystander replied.

"I saw her running in front of me too," Jeep Driver added. "It's true."

"What? Really?" another bystander said.

"Be careful," Jeep Driver said to Truck Driver as he sucked on his cut finger. "Is she alive? You know, like breathing?"

"I don't know," Truck Driver said. Being a simple man untrained in first aid or medicine, he hovered his fingers over the little girl's nose, and thought he could feel light breathing. Next, he opened the girl's eyelid, to find that her eye color was… off. Bright baby blue, too bright, and under the cloudy sky, he thought it was glowing slightly. There were whispers because of this. Startled, Truck Driver let go of the girl's eyelid.

"Here, let me see," Jeep Driver knelt down beside the little girl and placed a finger on her neck. He could feel little, gentle pulses, the kind that a little girl would make. "I think she's fine."

"Little girl, you okay? Hey, wake up," Truck Driver said to Bubbles again. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he shook her, but Jeep Driver stopped him.

"Hey, stop!" Jeep Driver warned, pulling him back. "We don't know what kind of internal injuries or bone fractures she'd suffered! Better not move her anymore than we already did!"

Not long after, a police cruiser, with the police officers coming in to put some distance between the crowd and the unconscious little girl. One of them started taking statements. Ultimately, no one was in trouble - the highway wasn't exactly supposed to be a place for little girls to wander around in. An ambulance came in after that, and the paramedics examined Bubbles quickly, noting the surprising lack of injury to the skin and flesh, visible sign of internal injury and hemorrhage, nor fractures or broken bones. The only symptoms were the bruise on her cheek and her unconsciousness. One of them thought that neurological trauma was a possibility.

The paramedics loaded Bubbles up on a stretcher, strapping her in, taking her belongings - her weapons, her helmet and broken goggles along with them separately to be stored as patient belongings. They carried her into their ambulance before driving off to the nearest hospital. The police cruiser attending to the scene followed the ambulance. They knew what Bubbles had been doing on the highway. They'd heard it from their colleagues on the radio. As far as she was concerned, she was armed and dangerous, and a suspect in a shooting incident, all but confirmed to be a participant of it.

Just then, three USDO Lamborghini speed transports passed by on the highway, towards two other little girls on the highway…

Chapter Text

Chapter 59: Casualties of War

The City of Townsville. Road Towards Suburbs.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1610.

"My eye still hurt," Buttercup complained in the silent zone that was the speed transport. She had an ice pack on her eye, but it could only numb the pain so much.

"Just keep it on your face," Sergeant Rutherland said, referring to the ice pack. "I've already taken out the glass shards. You should be fine."

"I'm aching all over," Buttercup said further. "But it was worth it. Right, Blossom?"

Blossom did not answer her. She wasn't even listening. No one answered her. Sergeant Rutherland cupped his forehead in his hand.

"Aren't we supposed to find Bubbles, Mister Blake?" Blossom asked the man. He did not answer immediately, and Blossom knew exactly why. "Mister Blake?"

"We have people out there looking for her," the security officer finally said. There was no more warmth in his voice. Blossom missed it. He was one of the first friend she had made.

There was silence for a time after that, as the speed transport sped towards home. Blossom couldn't calm down even in this space that was given to her. Everything was wrong, and being driven away from the highway did not make it any less so.

"Mister Blake?" Blossom said.

Silence.

"Are we still friends?" Blossom asked.

Agent Blake shifted in his driver's seat, adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. It made Blossom uncomfortable.

"I don't know," Agent Blake finally said. He had believed that The Three - Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, were the first subjects of Project Powerpuff who were like normal human beings, not the psychopaths that the Chemical A-X series tend to produce. Now, after what had happened, after the crisis on Highway 13, he wasn't sure anymore. Was Blackwater right all along, that he was blinded by Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup's appearance? Had he thrown away his career for a trio of Project Powerpuff subjects who had turned out to be just as destructive, just as psychopathic as the others?

Blossom stared at the back of his seat in dismay. She knew what Agent Blake meant. In her mind, he had effectively dissolved their friendship.

The City of Townsville. Suburbs. The House.

17 DEC 1988 (Saturday). 1631.

"Here," Corporal Rutherland handed the Girls the things they had left behind. Blossom was returned both her SMG and shotgun, while Buttercup got her Stoner LMG back. "Don't lose them again. It took us some time to get them."

When Buttercup leaped off the car with her discarded clothes and shoes and weapons, she felt a wave of dizziness, nausea. Her ordeal had left a mark on her, and it hadn't worn off just yet. Blossom followed behind her with her own stuff, relieved by the sight of The House. She tried to be rational about things - whatever bad things that had happened was over. People were looking for Bubbles, so she should be fine… Right? She thought that Agent Blake was mad and upset, but believed that he would cool down later, and even if he didn't, she still had Daddy and Mommy.

Buttercup bent over, retching, but nothing came out. Blossom took her by the hand, and they walked, hand-in-hand, towards The House. This time around, neither her Dad nor her Mom had come out to receive them. No - something was wrong, even in The House.

Before entering The House, Blossom turned back to regard Agent Blake, hoping to catch him in the eye, hoping that, perhaps he might change his mind - But the USDO officer was already getting into the driver's seat. He was about to close the door when he stopped and returned Blossom's look. They stared at each other for a second before the man closed the door. Blossom couldn't tell what his expression was, because he had his aviator shades on, and she did not use her x-ray vision.

"Come on, Blossom! I'm feeling really sick!" Buttercup said impatiently. Blossom turned back to the front door of her home and opened it.

Only to wish that she hadn't, for the sight that greeted her was even worse than the cold shoulder Agent Blake had been giving her, or the accidents on the highway. Blossom had always thought that, no matter how bad things could get, she would always have a home to return to, and the warm embrace of her Daddy to fall into. That notion had never been more challenged than it was, the moment she stepped into the living room.

Professor Utonium was sitting on the living room couch, hunched over, his face in his hands. Selicia, still in the red dress she wore for the family trip, had an arm around his shoulder, and Blossom could hear that she was whispering comfort into his ears. When they heard the door open, the both of them looked up at her. The professor's eyes were red, and the look on his face - it was a blend of anger and misery, and other things that she couldn't understand, a look that hurt Blossom when she saw it. Not even Buttercup was immune from this, as all her past misdeeds returned to haunt her, and she became afraid that Daddy might have found out, somehow.

"Blossom, Buttercup - kids - could you come here for a second?" the professor beckoned. Selicia did not need to say a word - all she had to do was to glare disapprovingly at Blossom to get her point across, as she sat beside her 'husband'. Blossom gingerly padded over to them; she had never been more afraid of her father before - in fact, there was never a time in her short life that she had ever been afraid of her father. Buttercup followed behind Blossom, actually using her as a shield. "We need to talk."

"Dad…" Blossom tried to defend herself - to explain things, but she didn't even know how to begin. The professor actually waited for her- so that she could say anything, whatever it took to explain away what she did, so that the ghosts of Project Powerpuff's past wouldn't come back to haunt him.

"Sit down, Girls," Selicia ordered Blossom and Buttercup. Buttercup took the single-seater, mostly because she still felt sick from her adventure at the strip club and on the road. Blossom stood next to her, too tense, too afraid to let herself relax.

"I just heard from Blackwater on the phone," the professor began, himself unsure of where to start. His mouth and lips felt dry, even though he had a cup of water on the insistence of Selicia. "He said that the two of you had hurt forty to fifty innocent people." He could feel his heart beating fast. "While you're chasing down suspects. He said that you were ordered not to. Is it true?"

"They were running away, I didn't want them to run away or they'd hurt the innocent, like you said," Blossom repeated his words, hanging her head in abject misery as she did.

"You didn't answer my question. Is it true?" the professor interrogated. He had been controlling himself before, but no longer. Anger was slipping through the tone of his voice. Blossom trembled at the sound of his voice, at everything that she'd been suppressing inside her - the pain, the sadness. "I asked you a question and I expect an answer. It's called manners."

"Yes," Blossom admitted, face to the floor.

"I also heard from Blackwater that the two of you killed the criminals you were chasing," the professor added. Fear gripped him as he said it, for what he must find out. "Did… the two of you - and Bubbles - enjoy killing people?"

"No!" Blossom and Buttercup cried in unison, the former sincere while the other lied. Blossom summoned whatever little courage she had left and looked up at Daddy, only to be met with a stone cliff that was his face.