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The City of Townsville! A delightful city of friends and lovers, where romance and flowers bloomed in harmony. Yes, in Townsville, finding your true love was as simple as putting on your best smile, walking out the door, and saying:
“FUCK YOU!”
A harsh voice rang out across the city skyline, startling birds from their perches on trees and telephone wires. Cars came to a screeching halt, and citizens stared silently in the direction of the bowling rink.
“NO, FUCK YOU!”
A second voice chased the first, shaking the ground and sending the squirrels of Townsville Forest fleeing for safety. Amidst the frightened patrons of BOWL, a fight that had been brewing for weeks finally bubbled over and spilled into the crowd.
Berserk, the hot-tempered leader of the Powerpunk Girls, brought her mitts crashing down on the table, splitting it — and the floor — in half. She took a dangerous step forward, shaking the building with enough force to knock a light from the ceiling, and thrust an accusatory mitt into the chest of her opponent: the equally short-tempered leader of the Rowdyruff Boys.
“You think I’m crazy? You, you malformed little shit puppy, think that I’M crazy? You haven’t even fucking seen crazy yet, you yappy little bitch!” Flames sprayed from the corners of Berserk’s mouth. But while everyone else in the bowling rink cowered, Brick simply rolled his eyes and sneered back.
“I’m looking right at her! Wait, watch this.” Brick pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped away for a minute. Then, turning it to face her, he grinned. “See?” On the screen was the Wikipedia article for “Crazy”, with a hastily added picture of Berserk, laughing maniacally from atop a burning ice cream truck.
Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Shoulders trembling, the flames in her breath turning pink, Berserk swatted the phone from his grip. It flew through the crowd like an intercontinental ballistic missile, obliterating the far wall in a shower of plastic, glass, and plaster.
Brick looked at the hole in the wall. Then, he turned back to glare at her and shoved his mitts in his pockets. “Great! That’s the fourth phone you’ve destroyed this week, you CRAZY BITCH!”
Suddenly, Berserk was in his face, leaning down and breathing smoke into his nose. Her eyes were wide, crazed, with flames dancing in their depths.
“Call me a crazy bitch one more time. I fucking triple dog dare you, shit puppy.”
He grinned and pushed back against her, floating off the ground to stand at her height. “Crazy.” Her eyes twitched, and she started to growl. “Bitch!” The word fell from his lips with a satisfying pop, drawing a startled gasp from the gathered crowd.
“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!” By the time the thunderclap of her fist hitting his face sounded, his body was already two blocks away. An erratic pink streak chasing after him, devastating everything in its wake.
“Dude, bro, what the hell, man?” Boomer asked from his perch in the lobby. A beer in hand, he cracked it open and took a long swig. Then, he burped. “Just say you’re sorry before she kicks your ass again.”
“Yeah man, she’s way out of your league.” Butch chimed in from his place on the couch. A controller held tight in his grip, he leaned into his game with intense focus. His tongue poked from the corner of his mouth, and a bead of sweat rolled down his cheek as he carefully placed another plot of flowers in front of his house. “Hell yeah! That looks so sick. Boomer, check it. Like, the color coordination shit is so—”
“Fucking BORING! Ugh…” Brick held an ice pack to his bruised cheek and rolled his eyes. It was the same argument they’d had for a week now, and his answer was never changing. If Berserk wanted him back — and why the fuck wouldn’t she want him back? He was amazing, and she was lucky she was hot enough to hang with him — she was going to have to say it.
Was it his fault she couldn’t take a hint? Of course not. Did he have to call her a fat cow with bad bangs the second he saw her? Of course he did! How else was she going to get the point? Obviously, she was the one who was wrong.
“I just don’t get it. You still like her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, Boomer, obviously! She’s a psycho, but she’s hotter than Hell and more fun to hang out with than either of you numbdicks.” Brick flipped through the contacts on his new phone. His eyes landed on a familiar name, and a grin spread across his face. He shot to his feet, thrusting his fist into the air. “I GOT IT—ow, fuck!” then promptly sat back down, holding his cheek.
“Whatcha got, bro? Gonna say ‘My bad for being a dick, you still dtf?’ or you gonna do something stupid?” Butch asked, raising his mitt for a float-by high-five from Boomer.
“What? No? Why would I do some lame shit like that? Nah, I got the perfect plan to make that crazy bitch jealous as fuck. She’ll come crawling back and begging me to get with her!” Brick cackled and started tapping out a new message. But after only a few clicks, he shook his head and backspaced, switching to a different contact and typing the same message.”I’m gonna date Morbucks to make her jealous. Soon as she sees me thriving, she’ll wanna piece of me and will toss that rich bitch into the sun to get to me.”
“Princess?” The brothers asked in unison. They traded a look. Butch shook his head, and Boomer shrugged. The blue ruff drained the last of his beer and burped again.
“Why don’t you ask Blossom? That’ll probably really piss her off.”
“Yeah, also Blossom is, like, way hotter than Prinny. Like, she’s so hot and smart and cool and—”
“Dude, Butch, shut the fuck up.” Brick sat his phone down and turned to face his brothers fully. “Okay, two problems with that plan. First: gross.”
“She looks exactly like Berserk.” Boomer pointed out.
“No the fuck she doesn’t.”
“Yeah, Blossom’s waaaaay hotter.”
“B: she’s a goody-goody, prissy-priss hero. I’m a villain. If I date her, my street cred is going straight into the garbage.”
“You have street cred?”
“You just know she’d say no.”
Brick glowered at the two. Faint streams of steam rose from his heated cheeks and his glowing red eyes. He cleared his throat and continued, “And in conclusion, Morbucks is loaded and will totally pay for everything. Perchance.”
Boomer burped. “You can’t just say perchance, dude.”
“Whatever. Watch a master at work, boys.” Brick held up his phone and tapped the send button with a devious grin. The message: “Yo, wanna hook up tonight at Chubby’s?” was sent to Berserk. Then, immediately after, he sent a second message: “Shit, sorry, that was for someone else.”
His plan complete, he sent the real message to Princess and sat back in his chair. “Hell yeah, I’m a fuckin’ genius.” As planned, his phone started blowing up with new message alerts. He glanced down and grinned. “Well, boys. Don’t wait up, I got a date with a trillionaire mega bitch tonight.”
“We weren’t going to.”
“Yeah, dude, we’ve got our own plans. We’re gonna—”
“Didn’t ask! Later losers!”
The trap was set and the game afoot when Brick flew over to some fancy restaurant on the ritzy side of town called “Il Posto Ricco.” He’d spent nearly an hour trying to get Princess to settle for Chubby’s, but knew he was running out of time based on how fast the messages from Berserk were starting to pile up, so he relented with the stipulation that he wasn’t going to dress up.
Landing in front of the restaurant, the faintest hint of what might have potentially been an inkling of shame stirred deep within his rotten heart. Everyone present was dressed to the nines in outfits that surely cost more than the Ruff’s entire wardrobe combined and tripled. But when he strolled through the doors, mitts stuffed in the pockets of his unwashed hoodie, and saw the look of shock and terror on the maitre d’s face, that feeling was swallowed up by his smug satisfaction.
“Sup, loser. I’m here to meet up with Prinny.” Brick leaned on the podium like he owned it and glanced around the room. “She here yet?”
“Um…Mr. Morningstar, I presume?” The maitre d swallowed a nervous gulp and motioned for Brick to follow him. “R-right this way, sir…um, would you like to borrow a tie? Or maybe a jacket?”
“Why?” Brick asked, pushing aside his cap to scratch his head.
“N-Nevermind, sir. This way, if you will.” The two marched through the restaurant, to the wide-eyed terror of the fancy patrons. Brick had to admit, feeling their frightened glances was the best he’d felt in a week. He made a point of turning and leering at a particularly cute woman with a blonde bob and rosy cheeks. She gasped, covering her mouth and scooting back. Beside her, a woman with long, thick white hair narrowed her eyes at Brick. She scooted closer to her partner and took her hand protectively.
Before he could respond to her act of defiance, the maitre d cleared his throat. “Please, take a seat, Mr. Morningstar. Miss Morbucks should be here shortly.”
“Mm? Oh, right. Thanks, nerd.” Brick turned to look at the table and whistled. Nestled in the back corner of the restaurant, it was anything but cozy. The seats had plush purple cushions with golden trim, high backs with plenty of support, and armrests. A tablecloth that looked more like an expensive rug was draped over the table; a solid gold candelabra with platinum dollar sign accents sat in the middle, lit with flames colored yellow, purple, and red.
There was an expensive bottle of wine on the table, flanked on either side by wine glasses that would be better described as crystal goblets.
Brick plopped down into the chair with his name embroidered in red silk and snatched the bottle. He cracked it open with a pinch and took a swig straight from the bottle. The rich, fruity flavor hit him all at once, making him sputter and cough.
“Holy shit! This fancy stuff goes hard!” He grabbed his goblet and filled it to the brim and started downing mouthfuls of the stuff.
“Well, you certainly made yourself at home.” A nasally voice said with a soft titter.
Brick looked up, choking down the gulp in his mouth. If everyone else was dressed to the nines, Princess was dressed to the elevens. Maybe even the twelves — he still didn’t know what the numbers meant, dammit. Her poofy hair had been tamed into a high ponytail and topped with an even more opulent tiara than the one she normally wore. The royal purple dress she wore hugged her curves as if it had sprung fully-formed on her body. Gold bracelets jingled on her wrists, matching golden hoops hung from her ears.
She curled her painted red lips into a coquettish smile and waited for the maitre d to scoot her chair back to take a seat. The moment she sat down, she crossed her legs and leaned forward on her elbows to gaze at him.
“I have to admit, I was shocked when you reached out. Shocked, but delighted.” Her nose scrunched. “Though, I had hoped you would at least try to dress for the occasion.”
“What’re you talking about? This is my best hat and my best hoody. I look damn good.” Brick plucked a piece of bread from the basket on the table and took a bite. “But you? Whew, babe, you look hot as fuck.”
Princess’s cheeks turned pink, and her hand flew to her mouth, masking a giggle.
“You really think you’re hot stuff, don’t you? Well…” She gazed at him with half-lidded eyes. “I guess you’ve earned your arrogance, haven’t you?”
“You know it, babe.” Brick sat back and popped the rest of the bread in his mouth. The crispy, fluffy texture was like heaven, melting in his mouth in warm, buttery bliss. “So, what took you so long? Had trouble finding the place?” He asked with a wink.
“Of course not! I was going to dine here this evening anyway. My Daddy owns the restaurant, you know,” She made sure to slip that last bit in with a sneer. “But everyone knows that the star of the show isn’t meant to show up first. You have to keep your adoring fans waiting.”
“Real shit?” Brick raised an eyebrow. “I like showing up early. Gives you more time for everyone to stare at you in fear and awe.”
“Oooh, I’d never considered that.” Princess leaned forward again. “You like having everyone’s eyes on you, hm? What do you think of mine?”
Brick paused in the middle of another piece of bread. Her dark, beady eyes were staring at him expectantly, gazing into the depths of his soul. He pursed his lips and washed down the mouthful with a gulp of wine.
“I like the freckles, babe. Real demure, and shit.”
Princess giggled; Brick craned his neck to see past her. He’d sent the location to Berserk last minute, and was starting to get worried that she wasn’t going to show. Oh well, he thought with a sigh and a shrug. If she didn’t, at least he’d get a free meal out of this whole ordeal.
“Good evening, Miss Morbucks. Master Morningstar.” The waiter, a lanky man with squared shoulders and an insufferable accent, said as he slid into place beside the table. “Might I offer you an appetizer while you peruse the menu?”
“Of course, Pierre. I’ll start with an order of calamari and a baked honey apple salad. Brick, dear, what would you like?”
‘Dear?’ Brick craned his eyebrow and finally noticed the menu. He picked it up and almost asked aloud why there weren’t any prices. But before the question could reach his lips, an explosion shook the building. His grin grew wider when a flash of pink crashed into Pierre and sent his tight ass flying into a nearby fish tank. “Oh hey, it’s the craziest bitch in Townsville.” Brick turned to Princess and jerked his mitt toward Berserk. “You know Bitchzerk, right, Prinny?”
Princess eyed Berserk warily. “I do…can we help you B—”
Berserk leaned forward on the table, glaring into Brick’s eyes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, shit puppy?”
Brick grinned and shrugged. “I’m on a date, Berserk. No need to get so clingy and jealous,” his eyes narrowed, “it’s super unattractive. Can’t a guy go out on a date with a smoking hot rich girl?”
“Y-You think I’m hot?” Princess giggled and took a sip of her wine.
The Powerpunk Leader’s burning gaze drifted from Brick, across the table to his date, then back to him again. Slowly, a toothy grin spread across her face.
“That right? Alright, have a good night.” She snatched the last piece of bread from the basket and walked off.
‘The fuck you mean have a good night?’ Brick wondered, staring incredulously in the direction Berserk had gone. He expected more shouting and burning and smashing, not quiet acceptance. His mitt moved to his head, scratching his hair as he looked around in confusion.
Across from him, Princess suddenly got a text message. Seeing Bricks’ bewilderment, she took a moment to read it. Her face suddenly turned redder than her hair, a goofy, wobbly grin on her lips. She cleared her throat and jumped to her feet, nearly knocking over the wine.
“I’ll—I mean—just a moment! I’ll be right, ahem, I’ll be back!” Then hurried off, nearly tripping over the clean-up crew that was prying Pierre out of the tangled pile of lobsters that had latched onto him.
Brick sat back, wine bottle in hand and confusion etched onto his features. He couldn’t begin to understand what Berserk was thinking. Wasn’t she pissed? She should be pissed.
He’d be pissed.
He drained the rest of the bottle and tossed it across the room, hitting Pierre in the head and knocking him, and his rescuers, into the snapping pile of lobsters. Over the screams of pain and gasps from the other patrons, Brick heard a ding. He glanced down at his phone, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.
It was a picture of Berserk and Princess in the bathroom. The Powerpunk Girl had the heiress pinned up against the wall, sucking on her collarbone and winking into the camera as she took a selfie of the pair of them. Princess’s face was flushed and sweating, still steaming hickies visible along her neck.
Below was a message: Two can play this game, fucker.
A red haze of anger filled Brick’s brain. His vision darkened, and before he knew what he was doing, he was in the women’s restroom, a trail of destruction in his wake. He snatched Berserk by the shoulder and whipped her around.
The punk let Princess fall to the floor with an unglamorous “Oof!”. Her lips, which had been pleasuring the heiress moments ago, were now pulled back in a smug grin.
“What’s wrong, shit puppy? No need to get clingy and jealous.” She leaned in close, her lips brushing his. There was smoke on her breath. “It’s super unattractive.”
The two held that pose, gazing into each other’s eyes. Electricity arced between them, dancing around the debris kicked up by the haze of power radiating through their bodies. Brick wanted to hit her so badly. He wanted to grab her stupid, smug, grinning face and just—
“F-Fuck you!” He hissed before grabbing her collar and pulling her into a fierce kiss. The two moved like wrestling wrecking balls, smashing through the sinks to create a cascade of gushing water that formed a river of overflowing desire that streamed across the bathroom floor.
“Hey wait! What about me?!” Princess called out. “Don’t you want a throuple?!”
Her voice was lost in the destruction, the twisting tangle of red and pink light ripping through the wall and into the dining area. Brick managed to force Berserk to the ground, sinking his teeth into her neck. She arched her back and hissed, grabbing a fistful of his hair and using it to flip him around.
Their fiery collision brought them to the kitchen, then to the lobby, then finally into the parking lot, where their entwined bodies turned the collection of vintage and expensive cars into the world’s fanciest pile of shrapnel.
Dancing in the flames and smoke, their lips came crashing together. His mitts bruised her shoulders; her mouth scorched his skin. Over and over, in an endless fight for dominance that all of Townsville would inevitably lose.
“Okay so like…you guys’re back together?” Boomer asked.
Across from him, Brick sat in his favorite chair, Berserk draped across his lap, their mouths locked in wet, noisy union. They broke just long enough for Brick to say, “Yup,” before resuming their obnoxious game of tonsil tag.
Butch came into the room with a heavy sigh. “So, um…we’ve gotta start paying rent. Apparently.”
Brick and Berserk stopped kissing and looked up at Butch in confusion.
“The fuck you mean we’ve gotta pay rent?”
“Who the fuck would try to charge you guys? This building is abandoned.” Berserk pointed out, gesturing to the office building the ruffs had been living in for years. Situated on the rough East Side of town, no one wanted to reclaim it, especially after the current occupants moved in.
Butch turned the letter around. “Morbucks bought it. Now she’s charging us,” he looked at it again, “a No Good, Slimy, Scum Sucking, Piece of Shit Tenant tax.” He blinked and looked up. “It’s like ten thousand dollars…a week.”
Brick laughed. “Like fuck we’re paying that. Who’s gonna kick us out?”
“The, um…Powerpuff Girls?”
“Eh, they’ll get tired of taking our asses to jail after a week.” Brick pointed out with a shrug.
Berserk leaned in to him, stroking his cheek. “Aw, poor puppy. You want me to make the mean old landlady go away? I can burn down her mansion and salt the ashes for you.” She asked, her gaze unhinged, but her smile sincere.
“Holy shit, you’re so hot, babe. Yes! Burn that bitch to the ground!” He muttered before claiming his lips with hers again. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but feel smug, thinking to himself: Mission Successful.