Chapter Text
The city of Townsville was nothing like Viletown.
When she had visited thirteen years prior, she hadn’t even noticed. But now, standing in the mid-afternoon sun, watching the happy, smiling citizens going about their day, and listening to the hustle and bustle of the city, those differences were enough to leave Berserk feeling overwhelmed.
Unlike Viletown, Townsville was noisy, and almost painfully so. There were cars racing up and down the street, and vendors pushing their wares on anyone walking past. Two women locked in animated conversation at the nearby bus stop, a middle-aged woman snapping her fingers to the music booming through her cheap headphones, and a portly young man noisily chomping a mouthful of gum crowded the bus stop.
“Fuck…” Berserk grabbed her head and ducked into an alleyway, holding herself up on the closest building. For the first time in her life, she was thankful to have had her powers removed. With her senses dulled, her ears could bear the sound and her nose could handle the scent of pork, sweat, and gasoline in the air. Despite the kaleidoscope of scents in the air, she breathed deep, drinking in the first gasps of fresh air — free from the scent of blood, tears, or ash — she could remember.
She pinched her nose and clenched her eyes, shuffling deeper into the shadows. Without smoke and pollution blotting out the sky, the sun was both too hot and too bright. But, thankfully, another unexpected benefit of her powers missing was how dull the fire in her lungs had become.
That mercy did little to comfort her, knowing that her time was short, and that she had no hope of succeeding in her mission without her powers.
“Twenty-four hours. Are you fucking serious?” Berserk growled and slid to the ground, hiding behind a dumpster. Even the trash in Townsville smelled better. “Stupid fucking pixie-angel just drops me in the middle of a fucking parallel dimension, without my powers, and expects me to just figure it out? Fuck me…” Climbing to her feet, she tried to disappear into the crowd, scanning the shop windows for a clock to help her plan her next steps.
“1:30? Are days and nights reversed?” Berserk tilted her head and brought her fingers to her chin, staring through the restaurant at the clock on the wall. Judging by how dark it had been when her sisters abandoned her, it was definitely night in Viletown. “Okay…that’s fine. Actually…that’s good.”
It was the middle of the day. She and her sisters never attended school — the Oppressor taught them anything they needed to know, or they taught themselves — so it stood to reason that their counterparts were good little girls who would be in class now.
That meant that the house would be unguarded. A smile spread across Berserk’s face, and her eyes narrowed. She needed her powers back to defeat the Powerpuff girl. Her Oppressor’s lab would be the best place to find the Chemical X she needed.
“Alright, where am I?” Berserk looked at her surroundings. The lack of destruction was throwing her off, and the Antidote X in her system was slowing her thoughts to a crawl. Her jaw and fists clenched, an ache settling in the back of her head. If she could just figure out where she was, she could find her way home.
As someone walked by, Berserk stretched her arm out, bringing him to an abrupt halt.
“Hey, I’m lost. What street is this?”
“Lost? Oh! Blossom! What are you doing in town? Oh my gosh, it’s so good to see you again!” The older man with a bowler hat laughed and clapped her on the shoulder.
It took all of Berserk’s willpower to keep a scowl from her face and a fist from his.
“Yeah, I’m…” She paused, confused by what he had said. Did her counterpart not live here? She shook her head, filing that thought away for later. “Just visiting for today. It’s been a while, so can you remind me which street this is?” She forced a smile and fought against using any of her favorite words. She had a feeling they were ones that her counterpart wouldn’t use.
“Of course, it’s so great to have you around. I’m sure your family is dying to see you. You’re on Lamar.” He pointed down the street. “And if you’re looking to head home, you’ll just want to head East on 45th over there.”
Berserk dropped her arm and brushed past the man. She came to an abrupt halt, furrowing her brow. Drawing a deep breath, she turned and flashed him the best smile she could muster. “Thank you, sir. Have a…nice…day” She turned away, her smile becoming a sneer, and waved over her shoulder.
Lamar meant nothing to her, but, thankfully, 45th Street was consistent between the two worlds. She was about three minutes from home if she could fly, but without that being a possibility, she imagined it would take at least forty minutes by car, assuming she could avoid traffic. Berserk walked to the corner of the street, and then into the street, blocking off the first car passing by.
“Hey what are you…oh, hey! Blossom! Is everything okay?” The woman leaned out her window, her anger transforming into shock and then joyful surprise over the span of a few seconds.
“I need to commandeer your vehicle. Superhero business.” Berserk said, pulling the door open.
“Oh, my gosh! Is everything okay?” That was all the woman asked as she exited her car and moved to the sidewalk. Berserk paused at the door, forcing herself to smile again.
“It will be thanks to you.” Ducking into the car, she slammed the door shut, adjusted the mirrors, and took off down the street, pressing the pedal to the floor. Weaving in and out of traffic, she was grateful for all the stolen cars she’d taken on joy rides throughout the years. Her thoughts were sluggish and unfocused, but the openings in the flow of traffic were still clear as day to her eyes.
Much as it pained her to slow down, she couldn’t risk getting pulled over by the police. She’d leveraged her counterpart’s reputation so far, but there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. After running two lights, she finally stopped at the third, spotting a police cruiser out of the corner of her eye. She and the officer behind the wheel made eye contact: he raised a coffee mug like a salute, and she nodded back. The light turned green, and Berserk forced herself to move on at a reasonable pace, waiting until she turned the corner to slam the pedal to the floor.
When she pulled over to the side of the street in front of the house, she felt a rush of adrenaline seeing that she’d made the forty-minute drive in just under thirty.
Berserk laughed. “Fuck all of you. Tell me driving cars is useless again.” She leaned on the steering wheel, scoping out the neighborhood. Pretending to be her counterpart had proven a useful strategy so far, but the last thing she needed was a nosy neighbor getting on her case. “I can’t wait forever…I don’t even know where she fucking is now.”
Taking one last glance up and down the street, Berserk popped open the door and hurried to the house. A sigh escaped her lips when the door opened without resistance. On one hand, it was a relief that she wouldn’t have to break in. On the other, the door being unlocked meant that it was likely someone was home. Opening the door as gently as she could muster, she slipped inside and pushed it shut behind her.
For the briefest moment, Berserk felt overwhelmed by the stark difference in the house where her counterpart grew up compared to the Oppressor’s compound. The house was warm, with light coming in through open windows, and the scent of an apple-cinnamon candle burning over the fireplace. A plush carpet covered the living room floor, and a cozy-looking couch sat across from a flat-screen TV. While the room was clean, it lacked the sterility of her home.
She approached the mantle, looking through the countless photographs lining every single shelf. One in particular stuck out to her. Taking it in her hands, her eyes drifted from one smiling face to the other.
Brat’s counterpart had round cheeks and full hips, with the biggest, brightest smile on her face and her eyes sparkling. Brute’s counterpart seemed underdressed compared to the others, wearing an oversized, baggy jersey, with a lopsided smile, bloodshot eyes, and mismatched streaks of green in her hair. And the man in the back…he was smiling, with his arms wrapped around the three girls and the faintest shimmer of moisture in his eyes.
That, more than anything, caused Berserk’s throat to tighten and her chest to ache. Although their faces were identical, there was none of the cold malice on the older man’s face that she expected. The girls in the photo didn’t shrink away from his touch. They leaned into it. No one was there against their will, not even the clearly intoxicated green puff.
Finally, her eyes fell on the girl in the middle. Pale cheeks dotted with freckles; pink rose eyes that crinkled when she smiled. And she was smiling, a smile bigger than any Berserk had ever seen in the mirror. Her sisters leaned on her shoulders, resting their heads against hers. No animosity, no cringing at each other’s touch. They were together and happy in a way that she couldn’t remember, a way she’d likely never even experienced before.
Berserk’s eyes narrowed. A faint, pounding sensation started thrumming in the back of her head, and the tiny spark in her chest grew hotter. Her grip tightened until her thumbs cracked the glass.
‘Focus! God, get your fucking head in the game! You need to find the Chemical X and figure out where she is. You’re running out of time.’ Berserk sat the photo back on the mantle, but continued to stare at it for almost a full minute. Her lips curled into a scowl; a growl rumbled in her throat. Screwing her eyes shut, she tore her attention away from the photo and scanned the room for any sign of the lab.
As she searched, Berserk’s headache beat against the backs of her eyes, strong enough to make her knees buckle and her shoulders shake. Without her powers, she couldn’t use her X-ray vision to find the lab, and even with her senses dulled, she couldn’t stop noticing every reminder of the way their lives had diverged. Every happy memory, every piece of normalcy. Her head was spinning, throbbing, splitting in half. Her chest was burning, but there were no flames on her lips or smoke on her tongue.
The sound of a thump upstairs snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Berserk stood frozen, gazing up at the ceiling and straining her ears to listen closer. Someone was shuffling around up there.
‘Where is it? Where is it? Where the fuck is it!?’ Berserk stumbled through the hallways, tapping on the wall and checking every door. When her nervous eyes fell on the liquor cabinet in the kitchen, she froze. Every panicked thought came to a screeching halt, replaced by static and a dryness in her mouth. A numbness spread to the tips of her fingers and toes, inching her toward the cabinet with every distant beat of her heart in her head.
“Access Denied - To enter the lab, please pass biometric scan.”
Berserk blinked and turned toward the mechanical voice. There was a panel on the wall beneath her hand that she hadn’t noticed earlier. Glancing toward the stairs and listening for any approaching footsteps, she leaned closer, gazing into the retinal scanner on the panel. A ray of light shone in her eye, and a computerized chirp responded, “Access Granted. Welcome, Blossom.”
“Well, shit…that’s lucky.” Berserk murmured. With one last look over her shoulder, she slipped through the door and descended the stairs into the lab. The door slid shut behind her, and the overhead lights flipped on.
Blue metal floors polished until she could see her reflection, neutral white walls scrubbed clean of even the slightest hint of dust, and black-topped counters and desks covered in beakers, stacks of paper, and machines of a variety of shapes and sizes. Near the center of the room was a blackboard that towered over her, its surface littered with equations and figures. The sterile scent of cleaning solution completed the picture-perfect recreation of a space she’d seen countless times in the last thirteen years.
This Oppressor’s lab was identical to the one from her world. There were fewer death rays and weapons of war, but the scattered experiments combined with a surprising attention to cleanliness was unmistakable.
‘Focus. Where is it?’ Berserk shook her wandering thoughts from her mind and turned her attention to the countertop covered in beakers. Walking over to it, her eyes drifted to the tallest stand, where a large, round bottom vial marked with a comically large X hung. The corner of her mouth twitched downward, and a flicker of frustration sparked in her lungs. The beaker was empty. Cleaned recently, actually, judging by the scent of soap still lingering near the top.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. How the fuck are you out?” Growling, she turned to the back corner of the lab, moving aside the blackboard and approaching a family portrait hanging on the wall. The sight of yet another happy family photo stoked the heat in her chest. Staring at her counterpart’s smiling face, she couldn’t help but feel she was mocking her. Looking down at her. Laughing at her.
Breathing out a hot breath of air, Berserk pushed the portrait aside to reveal a safe embedded in the wall. Like the door to the lab, a biometric scanner protected this one: a handprint scanner this time. With an impatient huff, she reached for it, only catching herself when her fingers were a hair’s breadth away.
‘What if she isn’t registered to open it? What if it records attempts to open it?’ She thought, curling her fingers and biting her lip. She knew from firsthand experience that both things were true for the Oppressor’s hidden safe. This Oppressor trusted his daughters enough to give them entry to the lab, so would not it stand to reason that he’d trust them with this? Even so, if there was an access record, it would leave behind clear evidence that she’d been there.
‘Or at least, that Blossom was here. They wouldn’t be able to track that back to me. But…if Blossom doesn’t live here anymore, would that get her sisters’ attention? I’m sure I can beat her if I can just get my powers back, but…’ But beating all three of them at the same time was another thing entirely. If the difference in power between them was the same as it had been before, there was definitely a scenario where she could take them all herself.
But if it wasn’t — if they’d somehow grown stronger comparatively — then she’d be setting herself up for failure.
So what else is new? That’s what you do best. A snide voice resembling Brat’s whispered in the back of her mind.
Berserk’s hand trembled, clutching her fingers into a fist.
You’re the perfect little fuck-up. You got this chance, and you’re fucking it up already. A sneering voice like Brute’s chimed in with a chuckle.
Her teeth clenched. With every sharp inhale through her nose, she felt her body heating and her lungs burning.
You’re useless. Dying here is the only possible outcome of this charade. The Oppressor’s voice whispered, bubbling up from the back of her mind until it consumed her thoughts.
Berserk’s hands rose to her face, palms pressing into her eyes to push down the throbbing pain in her head. Her shoulders shook; her knees felt weak. A cold drop of sweat trickled down the small of her back, causing her to jump and stand upright.
“No. No, no, no! I am not fucking this up! I’m going to find her, and I’m going to show them I’m better!” Berserk lowered her clenched fists to her side and scanned the room. She needed something, anything, just some kind of sign to help her get her powers back. With even half of her power, she was sure she could win.
Taking a deep breath in through her nose, Berserk focused on the heat in her lungs. She imagined it spreading out through her arms and legs, to the tips of her fingers and toes, and then through every strand of hair. When she breathed out, she imagined smoke passing through her lips. Breathing in, the flames grew hotter. Breathing out, the smoke left her body.
Without her powers, it was nothing more than a mental exercise, but one that fired up the parts of her brain that had become sluggish without a steady flow of Chemical X. Opening her eyes, continuing her breathing, she gave the room a final scan. This time, her gaze fell upon a medicine cabinet near the staircase. That was something new. The Oppressor never left himself vulnerable, and if one of the Punks were hurt, he was keen on letting them walk it off. Taking a chance, she approached the medicine cabinet and pulled it open.
A grin crept across her face. There on the bottom shelf, secured to the back of the box with Velcro, were three auto-injectors colored pink, green, and blue. Just above them, in bright red letters, it read “X-Boosters for Emergency”. Without wasting another moment, Berserk snatched all three, uncapped them and removed the safety. Then, with a grunt, she jammed all three into her thigh at the same time.
Almost instantly, she felt a burst of tingling sensations in her leg. As it spread throughout her body, she felt the imaginary heat from earlier sizzling for real. After three seconds, she could feel the familiar sensation of power returning. Although it was still barely more than embers, she’d been through this process so many times in the past that she could, if she focused, feel it growing stronger.
“Mission complete.” She said with a smirk, putting the spent boosters back into the cabinet and closing it again. Retreating from the lab, she took the stairs two at a time, relishing the pep in her step that even the faintest amount of Chemical X brought with it.
‘Now I just have to find her, then wait for my powers to return and beat the shit out of her.’ As she exited the lab, the world around her was already coming into focus. Her vision was becoming sharper, her hearing clearer, even the feeling of the air on her skin or the sensation of the carpet beneath her boots becoming more noticeable. And her thoughts: her thoughts were racing, as if freed from the gunk that had been stuck in their wheels.
‘Focus. Stay focused.’ Berserk concentrated on that repeated phrase as she made her way to the door.
This happened every time she got her powers back. Her perception intensified, and the world became unbearable as she adjusted to her heightened state of awareness. Any random thought could spiral out of control and lead her down a rabbit hole she’d be stuck in for hours. Each new sensation was more overwhelming than the last, suffocating her until she learned to breathe again.
Not even halfway to the door, only a few steps, and already the scratching and rubbing of her dress’s fabric was getting to her. Beads of sweat ran like ice cubes across her skin as it heated to match the temperature of the scorching air in her lungs. Her boots were too snug on her feet, her choker too tight around her neck.
A dog down the street barked, causing another to join in. On the other side of the street, a truck came to a halt, its brakes grinding and screeching. Her feet dragged against the carpet, the sound brushing its prickles against her ears.
There was a roast in the oven three houses down. There was milk creeping closer to its expiration date in the refrigerator. The candle in the living room had burnt out, leaving behind the lingering scent of smoke and melted wax.
The doorknob was cold. She was hot. Her head was pounding, splitting in half. Smoke wafted through her nostrils. Fire, stoked in her lungs, spread through her body. Her sweat was turning into thin wisps of steam.
Her feet hurt.
Her back ached.
The pinpricks on her thigh finally finished sewing shut.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Berserk’s eyes snapped open. Every scratch on the door stood out like neon signs in her eyes. She could see her reflection, and the reflection of the rest of the room, clear as day, between her fingers on the metal surface of the doorknob.
Every line in the wood, every discoloration in the red paint.
How one tile on the floor was slightly off from the rest.
Her hand was shaking. Her head. Oh, fuck her head. Her head was going to-
“Blossom?”
Berserk froze, her thoughts and every other sensation going silent except for the sound of that voice. It was nothing like the voice she knew. There was no snarl, no barely concealed twinge of contempt, not even a sigh of impatience.
Standing upright and forcing herself to focus. Berserk slowly turned until all she could see was him. His eyes — looking right at her, not through her — and his warm, delighted smile.
“Hey…Dad.”