Chapter Text
The city of Neighborsfield. An unassuming college town that would ordinarily go unnoticed when compared to the nearby cities of Townsville and Citiesville. Home to the equally ordinary A Different School University, the city had managed for decades to stay out of the headlines aside from the occasional sports upset.
That all changed two years ago when the school received a not-at-all ordinary new student. Suddenly, the sleepy city had more attention than it knew what to do with. In fact, an ordinary mugging that wouldn’t have even made the paper was suddenly something that had reporters swarming to cover. Not because of the crime itself, but because of the one swooping in to save the day.
“Just let go already! Don’t make this difficult!” A gruff young voice cracked. The owner wrenched the backpack from his target, shouldering his way past her and charging off down the street. He almost made it to the end of the sidewalk before hearing a familiar sound whistling overhead. “Ah, shit … already?”
“Martin, what am I going to do with you?” A weary voice responded. Landing at the edge of the curb, she rested her hands on her hips and tilted her head. Her fiery hair blew in an ever-present gentle breeze; her large, pink eyes narrowed to match the frown on her face — looking more like a disappointed parent than a heroine.
The mugger, Martin, released a frustrated growl and rolled his eyes.
“You could just let me go?” He dug into the backpack, pulling out various notebooks, a pencil case, and an expensive-looking phone. “Look, she’s got a Pear Nanotech Air, these things aren’t even on the market yet. She’s not going to miss any of this, and I need it to make rent this week.”
“Martin, we have talked about this. You told me you were going to clean up your act.” Blossom said, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter if she can replace it, you can’t steal things. It’s against the law.”
“The rent in this city should be against the law!” Martin grit his teeth, throwing the backpack to the ground, spilling the remaining contents across the sidewalk. He thrust an accusatory finger at the crime fighter. “It used to be affordable before you moved here!”
Blossom let one of her hands fall to her side. With a sigh, she nodded. “You’re right. That is my fault. But, that is no excuse to take it out on some poor woman you don’t even know. What happened to your job at Spry’s?”
This time, Martin was the one who looked uncomfortable. He pursed his lips and looked away.
Blossom drew a slightly deeper breath. Her nose scrunched. “You failed a random drug test, didn’t you?”
“It’s been a rough month, okay? I haven’t been making my sales quota and my landlady raised the rent again. Screw me for trying to unwind, right?”
The sound of a fast-approaching siren caught Blossom’s attention. Listening a little closer, she could hear several other cars approaching. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Listen, Martin, can you just pick up the mess and give the lady her stuff back? I’ll let you go and talk to your landlady about giving you an extension, okay?”
“Fuck that! Don’t you have better things to do? Just let me go!” Martin’s voice cracked again, and he threw the phone to the ground.
A blur of pink cleared the distance between them, catching the phone before it hit the ground, and putting everything back into the backpack in the blink of an eye. Blossom paused before returning a small notebook, first taking out a piece of paper, a pen, and jotting something down. She held the note out to him and gestured for him to turn around.
“Yes, actually, I do. I’ll give this back, you head down East Windsor and take a left on Sandy. You’ve got about five minutes before they get here. Go back to Spry’s, give them this and ask for your job back. You have to stop smoking. Just promise me we won’t have to have this conversation again.” When he made no move to take it, Blossom stuffed the note in his hand and gave him a gentle push. “Go.”
The wannabe mugger lowered his head and squeezed the note until it crumpled. After a moment of hesitation, he took off running without looking back.
Blossom sighed again. Judging by the sound of tires, she had even less time before the circus arrived. With one last glance back, she raced down the street, returned the bag, and shot off across the horizon just as the first news van came to a screeching stop by the sidewalk, three more cars close behind.
Normally, she didn’t mind entertaining them, but she really did have more important things to worry about.
Blossom slipped into the lecture hall, smiling sheepishly when the door hinges squeaked and everyone turned to look at her. A low roar of whispers filled the room, and the professor’s brow furrowed. Floating as quickly as she could without blowing away everyone’s belongings, she hurried to her seat.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am. There was an incident on East Windsor and Valley Drive. But, don’t worry, I stopped it.” She explained in a practiced tone: just the right mix of truly apologetic and humble bragging. Holding her smile until the professor continued, she finally allowed herself to relax, slipping out of superheroine mode and into diligent student mode.
If she focused on the lecture, on taking notes and being the perfect student, her mind might not drift to wondering what her sisters were doing.
Blossom didn’t regret graduating early. By sixteen, she’d already exhausted every avenue Townsville High had for keeping her attention. Blossom was a bright little girl, but she was far too smart as a teenager.
The girls had grown stronger as they’d gotten older, but their powers had also intensified. Along with that, each developed a new quirk from something none of them had ever considered a power before.
For Buttercup, it was her body’s ability to produce super adrenaline. Even the slightest nick got her blood pumping, and the intensity of the adrenaline her body produced proved to be intoxicating. That intoxication grew into an addiction. She spent nearly every day of middle school throwing herself into increasingly dangerous situations with no consideration for the people around her. Her dulled pain receptors made it impossible for her to realize just how badly she was hurting herself, and her massively increased strength made the damage she caused to everyone around her all the more devastating.
In Bubbles’ case, the sugar in her system went into a state of overdrive that granted her a virtually limitless amount of energy. She regularly went days without sleeping unless taking medication, and her healing factor could bring her back from the brink of death in minutes, though it did nothing to improve her pain tolerance. It also brought with it an appetite that never seemed to be satisfied, causing hunger pangs that verged on withdrawal if she went too long without eating.
Blossom’s cursed gift was a dramatic increase in her mental processing and perception. Subjects she once loved studying for hours now barely lasted a lecture. Books, from trashy romance novels to dense technical manuals, lasted minutes; entire series might occupy an evening. Her mind was always in constant motion.
With her increased brainpower came something Blossom had never once felt in school: an incredible, isolating boredom. A boredom so immense that it led to her becoming a burden on those around her. She could answer questions before her teachers finished asking them. She felt compelled to ask about material three, four, sometimes even an entire semester ahead of the current lesson. Worse still, on more than one occasion she’d earned the ire of her peers for complaining about the homework and tests being far too easy.
By her sophomore year, Blossom had burned so many bridges and relationships that the only way out was for the Professor to push for her to be allowed to graduate that year. Much to her disappointment, the SAT, ACT, and college entrance exams could only hold her attention for an afternoon.
Thankfully, college was a much better fit for her. Though she could have chosen any school in the country, she didn’t want to stay in Townsville, and she didn’t want to be too far from home. ADSU should have been perfect for her. Close enough to home to feel familiar, but not so big that she would feel overwhelmed. Now she could load up on as many in-person classes as she could realistically fit into a week, as well as all the online courses she could convince the dean to let her take.
For the first year, it was perfect.
It still didn’t challenge her, not when she could read an entire semester of material in an evening, but she wasn’t bored. Her classes weren’t especially large, so her professors didn’t mind her questions or her participation. The school library was much larger than the one back in Townsville, and the librarian was more than happy to order anything Blossom needed. People recognized her–it was hard not to; she was the leader of the world’s greatest superheroine team–but not so much that she couldn’t walk down the street without being surrounded.
That first year of college was one of the best in Blossom’s entire life, as long as she never looked at her sisters’ socials and didn’t think too much about the things she was missing.
Everything was perfect until the novelty wore off.
Blossom checked her phone, lightly bouncing on her heels as she knocked on the door again. Inside, she could hear the owner shuffling across the carpet, every stiff strand grating in her ears. After what seemed like an eternity, but was likely little more than a minute, the doorknob turned and the door creaked open. Peering out from behind, a pair of tired eyes widened at the sight of her.
“You’re that Powerpuff Girl, aren’t you?” The landlord muttered, unlatching the door and opening it the rest of the way.
With a nod, Blossom folded her hands and peered inside. Her eyes swept across the room, counting every half-eaten carton of leftover Chinese, the stains on the ceiling, and tracing the trampled paths along the carpet. She spied a heavy book open on the table and, glancing at the reflection in the burnt-out light overhead, could see it was a ledger.
Exactly what she was looking for, she thought with a slightly more sincere smile.
“That’s right! My name is Blossom, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mallory. I was actually hoping that I might have a chance to speak with you, if you have a few minutes?” Her hands tightened when the old woman, her thinning hair like wispy straw in the sunlight and her drawn-on eyebrows already smearing from the heat of the afternoon, eyed her with suspicion.
“Aren’t you a superhero? Don’t you have better things to be doing?”
Blossom laughed politely and shook her head. “Actually, ma’am, I think what I’d like to discuss with you is more important. I understand that since I moved to town that things have been … difficult for persons such as yourself. Property taxes have increased substantially in the last year and it’s having a trickle down effect on both yourself and your renters.” She dug her fingernails into her skin, lightly tapping her toe on the ground. Her nose twitched, catching the scent of stale cat urine; her eyes darted around the room again, but not spying any sign of cat hair.
As nonchalantly as she could manage — her eyes barely flickering — she glanced at her phone and winced seeing that she only had four minutes left.
“Well, that’s one way to put it.” Miss Mallory muttered. After a moment of consideration, she shrugged and motioned for Blossom to come inside. “It’s theft is what it is. I’m sure you do good, girl, but the rest of us were already just getting by. You know I’ve run this building for forty years? It’s never been this tight. Not even when my husband passed. God rest his soul.”
“I understand and I am sincerely sorry for that. I had really hoped that my presence would be positive for the city. Which is actually why I’m here. A friend of mine mentioned how hard the rent has been on them, so I wanted to take a look at a few things and see if I could help find a rate that ensures you’re able to pay your bills, and have some left over, without the tenants struggling to make rent.”
Miss Mallory scoffed, “It was that bum, Martin, wasn’t it? That kid can’t keep a job to save his life. Already got fired from Spry’s.” She said, shaking her head.
“He’s struggling, but I have it on good authority that he got his job back and he will be paying you soon.” Blossom came to a halt next to the table. Her first inclination was to grab the ledger and get to work, but she’d learned better. Instead, she waited for Miss Mallory to close the door and shuffle over to her.
“So you just want to bully an old woman into lowering her rent, huh? Some superhero.”
“Of course not!” Blossom gestured toward the ledger. “I’ll be clear, I am proposing lowering your rent, but I want to look at all of your expenses and find a rate that will be mutually beneficial. If your tenants can’t afford to pay you, then no one is happy, right?”
The old woman’s jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed. She reached up, wiping away one of her eyebrows. She took a deep breath and sighed.
“Ain’t that the truth.” With another shrug, she shuffled toward a beat-up recliner with more stains than Blossom cared to count. “Have at it. Super Girl. Just don’t put me out on the street.”
Blossom pumped her fists and sat down, nearly jumping back to her feet when she felt something wet. Swallowing her nerves, she ignored it and began pouring over the documents. Forty-three tenants, six years of rent history, and two years of property taxes later, Blossom found a mostly clean piece of paper and wrote her findings.
“All done!” She chirped, popping back to her feet and walking into the living room.
Miss Mallory was still sitting down and nearly toppled over. Fortunately for her, her guest was quick enough to catch her and gently lower her into the chair.
“What do you mean you’re done? You just got started.” She said with a cough, her eyes widening when Blossom handed her a slip of paper.
“I’m a quick reader,” Blossom said with a cheeky little smile. “I had to work with the numbers currently available on city hall’s website, but based on the mayor’s recent statements and the complaints from other business owners, I’m confident that this will get you through the rest of the year with minimal complaints. There’s enough here to cover all expenses, and have a decent amount left over so you can live comfortably, without forcing the renters out of their homes.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she flashed Miss Mallory her brightest smile. “And, if you’d like, I can stop by from time to time to make sure everything stays fair for everyone.”
The landlady shook her head and chuckled. “Well, I can’t argue with the math – not good enough at it myself – or the time. And you’re doing this for free?”
Blossom nodded. “Absolutely! I feel it’s my responsibility to the city to help all its citizens, especially with problems that I’ve helped create.” This time, Blossom made a point of looking at her phone. She might actually make it if she left right now. “That being said, I do have somewhere else to be. If you need anything, I left my number at the bottom there. Try not to be too hard on Martin. He’ll get things together, I promise.”
“If you say so, girl. Thank you kindly.” As soon as the last word left her mouth, she felt a rush of wind and looked up to see the redhead gone, her door closed, and the takeout mess on her table cleaned up and neatly stacked in the kitchen. “Well, shucky darn.”
Blossom paused in front of the door to the chemistry lab, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She would have been on time if she hadn’t overheard that couple fighting in the courtyard. Opening her eyes and forcing a smile to her lips, she pulled open the door and walked in.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Superstar, herself. Found time in your busy schedule to join us, did you?” The professor said with a chuckle, a thin smile hidden behind his beard.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, sir.” Blossom said, hurrying to her seat. She glanced at her phone, noticing a message from Martin. Picking up her pencil in her left hand, she hid her right under the table, tapping out a response and trying to show she was paying attention.
She enjoyed chemistry just fine, but the last several lessons were ones she’d studied for fun in high school. She bit down on her lip, tightening the grip on her phone to keep her hand on her lap. Despite his jovial appearance, Professor McKinney was not a fan of her constant questioning, especially when it strayed from the lesson.
He was even less fond of her dominating the conversation. He complained on more than one occasion that it took away opportunities from the rest of the class. It was only four months into the semester, and her ears instinctively burned when he asked a question and no one answered.
“Now come on you lot, this isn’t the Powerpuff Power Hour. We all know she’s just dying to tell us the answer, but I need the rest of you to put in a little effort.”
Her pencil trembled in her grasp. She forced a smile to her face and pretended to laugh.
Closing her eyes, Blossom tapped her hands on her lap, trying to drown out the sound of people vying for her attention while she waited for the store manager to call her in.
Spry’s Electronics was the biggest electronic store in town, and the employer of nearly every tech-savvy student at ADSU. It was usually busy, but the crowd gathered near the check-outs had no intention of buying anything. Cameras were flashing, and the occasional voice called out to ask her for an autograph or, worse, an interview.
“Show us your superpowers!”
“My ex is a jerk, can you kick his ass?”
“Hey Bloss, are you dating anyone?”
The crowd started growing as legitimate shoppers began mingling with the others. Whispers spread, a few gasped, and now even more eyes were staring at her. Opening hers, she forced another smile and offered them a wave, hoping it would be enough to placate them.
“Alright, sorry about the wait. C’mon in, Miss Utonium.”
Blossom resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, she waved to the crowd once more and flew into the office.
“Thank you so much for seeing me, sir. I know your time is valuable, so I promise I won’t take up too much of it.” She said as she took a seat in front of the desk. The manager, Roland Marcelos according to his nametag, took his seat with a loud sigh and held his hand out, giving hers a firm shake. Blossom couldn’t help noticing just how expensive his tie appeared, nor the mustard stain he’d desperately tried to clean off about halfway down.
“All good, all good. I know you’re busy darting around and saving the world from cats in trees and stoners in sales. So, let’s just get down to it. Why in the world should I hire Mr. High-on-the-Job again?”
Straight to the point, Blossom thought, keeping her expression cordial.
“Martin is still in the process of getting his life back together after his incarceration last year. I know for a fact he was one of your better sales associates until what sounds like recently. I also know that he’s knowledgeable and he’s great with older customers—”
“When he’s not high as a kite, sure,” Roland interjected, “But, when he’s on the ganja? No way. He pulls half the numbers that the newbies do. I’ve got people in the back who make more sales, and they don’t even get paid for it.”
Blossom nodded, “I fully agree. But, I can assure you it won’t happen again. He understands the situation he’s in and wants to be better. And,” she quickly added, “I will take full responsibility if it does.”
Roland rolled his tongue around his mouth. To anyone else, it may have been unnoticeable, but she could hear every wet slap against the insides of his cheeks. “Full responsibility, huh? What’s that look like? You gonna work for me?
Looking past him, Blossom noticed several sales awards and a “Best Store” certificate from a decade ago. On his desk was a report showing that sales were down for the quarter; on his computer was an open email from the corporate office asking for an answer to the store’s problems. A half-typed response claimed the issue was because of a lack of marketing support and the increased cost-of-living.
“I’ll record an advertisement for the store,” she said without missing a beat. “A television ad, absolutely free of charge. And, I’ll ask an acquaintance back in Townsville to make sure it airs across the entire state.”
The manager’s eyes widened, and whatever he planned to say in response got lost in a sputter. “Um, well … that is awfully generous of you. You really mean that? I bring Martin back and he screws up, you’ll officially endorse the store?”
Blossom beamed, “Absolutely, I have full confidence in him.”
“We’re talking prime time or at three in the morning?”
“Well, I’m sure your most dedicated customers are probably gaming at 3 A.M. But, no, I will make sure it airs when people will actually see it.” Blossom said with a polite laugh.
Roland shook his head and tapped his fingers on his desk. “Well, that’s a gamble I really can’t afford to pass up, huh? Alright, fine. Let him know to be in tomorrow. But, when he screws up, you better remember your promise.” He held his hand out again.
“You can ask my sisters, Mr. Marcelos, I’m a terrible liar. I find that being honest is so much easier.” She took his hand, squeezing it hard enough to make him flinch while still wearing the same smile on her face.
The two stood up, and Roland led her to the door. Before he opened it, he turned to her. “Can I ask why? Why are you trying so hard for some druggy thief? Is he your boyfriend or something?”
Blossom folded her hands behind her back, clenching her fists.
“No, Mr. Marcelos, I just believe in rehabilitation. Just because someone has committed a crime, it doesn’t mean they’re a criminal forever.” She paused in the doorway when he opened the door. Seeing the crowd still waiting, she turned and placed her hands on her hips, raising her voice just enough for them to hear.
“I am a superhero, after all. Saving the day is what I do.” With a tilt of her head and a smile, she disappeared, leaving behind a streak of pink and a cheering crowd.
It was late into the night before Blossom finally fell back into her bed. Her dorm room was sparsely decorated. A bed, a desk, a bookshelf, and a nightstand–a picture of her sisters and the Professor from two years ago, the most interesting piece of decor. A laptop was on her desk, sitting on a lock screen, the same photo as her wallpaper. She only ever used it for assignments, and even then, she usually found writing things to be significantly faster.
Blossom kicked off her shoes and looked at her phone. Fifty-seven unread messages. Twenty of them from Bubbles, two from Buttercup, and the rest from people she didn’t actually know. Martin, Miss Mallory, Stacie from Calculus, Bonnie from the courtyard, Mr. Nguyen from the corner store, and thirty other people she met in the last week. All of them with problems of varying severity, from mundane to concerning.
She let her arm drop to her stomach and stared up at the ceiling, counting the individual specks of dirt in the air above.
Her days were never slow. She had her first class at seven, then another class within five to ten minutes of the previous one ending until her last class at ten in the evening. Between each class, she took a trip through town, looking for anyone or anything that could use her help.
Usually it was something like getting a cat from a tree, or helping someone with an assignment. Occasionally, things got more interesting: preventing a car accident, stopping a mugging, or repairing something damaged by the weather or a vandal. On very rare occasions, something from her past would slip into town: a giant monster looking to challenge her, a radioactive lizard rampaging uncontrollably, or a budding new supervillain hoping to make a name for themselves.
On the rarest of all occasions, Mojo might even show up, but no one else ever did. The other villains had given up some time after the Final Hazard incident in seventh grade. Even Mojo wasn’t himself anymore. It wasn’t about world domination; it was just about testing out the inventions he sold to the other would-be conquerors of the world. It was clear his heart wasn’t in it; he just saw them as free quality control.
Blossom blinked and turned to look out her window. She started counting the number of street lamps lining the campus. When she ran out of those, she turned her attention to the number of stars on the horizon. Her ears twitched, hearing several acoustic guitars playing around campus, clashing with even more radios and shouts from raid groups or Monsters and Mazes parties.
On top of her heavy course load, she was also taking twelve different online classes. Catching up on those had taken almost an hour. She spent every second of her day in class or in service of her community, but it was never enough.
Every book in the world. Every crisis. Every minor inconvenience.
None of it was enough. She closed her eyes, curling up as tight as she could, holding her head in her hands. Nothing was ever enough to stop her mind from racing.
There was nothing in the world that could cure her crushing boredom.
Her phone beeped, and she cracked open one eye, peering down at it. Another message from Bubbles. Her thumb hovered over the message app, but she couldn’t bring herself to click it. She couldn’t bear to be reminded of how much more fun her sisters’ lives were. How exciting their days were.
How happy they were without her.
Burying her face in her pillow, she screwed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw until it ached. A tear slipped through her defenses, but her mind just kept racing.