Chapter Text
There were not many things that could make Buttercup wince. She hardly reacted to the potent Chemical X treatment that was not only uncomfortable but also slightly painful. The Professor had issued this treatment to her enough times to get her used to the feeling, making it almost routine. Another result of that was picking up on how to administer the treatment herself.
It lessened the burden on the Professor having to treat her injuries. She was the toughest fighter, but so was he. The matchups between the mightiest Powerpuff and the burliest Rowdyruff showed their superior, inhuman strength. That also meant they suffered the most at the end of their fights.
Mojo spared her no mercy when he created Butch. She could learn to breathe, control her impulses, but he still could not learn how to do either. Twitching–she knew how that felt. Letting go–she had done that so many times before he came into existence. Seeing those she loved struggle to accept her tougher side told her there needed to be a change.
He needed time as she once did and support, something he seemed to lack being surrounded by evil. His greatest advantage against her was his incredible strength. Neck and neck, they could fight out their greatest stresses, bring the other to their tipping point because they had a shared desire to release an incurable strive to be physically powerful.
That need never left her; she only realized she had to learn to not relinquish herself to her emotions and risk hurting those she cared for and loved most. An evil being like Butch very well could never love, but she believed he could understand limits. All their fights, she could feel it in every punch, his relentless desperation to let go of restraints.
Only she could handle him, she realized. His brothers were on their toes around him. Brick kept a close eye on him and Boomer agreed to all his demands when Brick was not around. But she began to see one day that he withheld himself despite knowing he could face his brothers alone, weaken them and give them a challenge to keep up with him if he was to ever do so.
He was not always this withheld. Suddenly one day when he flew off, leaving a fight unfinished between him and his brother, she knew something had changed. Before this, that was not the case. He would usually twitch from annoyance around Boomer or when made subject to Brick’s commands.
That had also been the start to more severe outcomes when she fought him. She recognized it immediately, the signs of feeling free after being restrained. She had those releases in the past, but it brought with it great consequences. Townsville spoke about her liability to the Powerpuff Girls.
Overdoing it again, that’s too rough, it’s too much, it’s time to stop fighting…
It all served to remind her she was not born perfect. She had little knowledge of how living that way could be like. And clearly, she was never born to be gentle.
There were no mistakes when it came to Blossom’s perfection and there was nothing to fear when it came to the joy Bubbles delivered. Townsville regarded her as a possible danger and took necessary caution, and their unacceptance made clear the worst realization that there was no one else that could understand him better than she could.
She was not perfect nor was she ever sweet.
He was born to be imperfect and never meant to be merciful.
She could never accept him for that, but she could be open to helping him for she was what he was not: good.
“Buttercup?” rocking her softly, Bubbles kept her voice to a whisper, “What are you doing sleeping in the infirmary?”
Nested in the corner of her eyes was the crust that built up after a well deserved rest. Surely the sun was up by now, which meant it was time to get ready for school and to head to the one place he would be at.
Bubbles rushed her words, “Hurry and wake up Blossom, I have to take the muffins out before they burn!”
From the infirmary she zoomed up the stairs, leaving Buttercup to wipe the slobber off her face and decipher what she said as her senses lagged waking up. She dragged herself up the stairs, her feet just barely hovering above each step.
Along the hall, the Professor ran into her and greeted her smiling, unknowing of where she came from, “Oh wow, look at you waking up on time! I knew that giving you the responsibility of waking Blossom up would help fix that habit of sleeping in too long!”
Waking up to praise did not prevent Buttercup from muttering resentfully to herself, “Yeah, you only made me do it because Bubbles gave those googly eyes asking to have more baking time,”
“Wow, I can smell that from here! It smells great, Bubbles!”
The Professor bounced down the steps as Buttercup muttered some more, “And so you can have sweets for breakfast!”
“Did I hear sweets for breakfast?”
Buttercup was now fully awake, as was Blossom, who was dressed and ready in need of no assistance which was peculiar, Buttercup thought. Blossom had also made it a habit to sleep in as of late, spending more time dreaming in the nights than usual.
When it came to school, this concerned the Professor, who equated it to exhaustion from dealing with criminals on extended shifts during the summers when they were most free. Especially the Rowdyruff Boys, who wore them out the most. With that, he always made sure to remind the girls before they went to school to–
“Yes, we know, don’t be around the boys,” said Blossom with a smile.
The Professor could almost let himself believe that she could transform hell to become a tolerable place if she were to ever find a way down there. That would never happen, though, much to the relief of his fortunate sigh.
“You should know that we know by now, you still watch over us like babies! It’s embarrassing!”
Blossom shushed Buttercup while the Professor chuckled, “Yes, I should stop being so overprotective of the most capable girls in all of Townsville,”
“Maybe that’s a good idea, Professor,” Blossom agreed, “It is one thing being the only girls with a teacher for a parent all throughout school and another to constantly be reminded of it,”
“You’re right, it’s proven by now that you girls watch out for yourselves without me around, and with this being the last year, and then graduation, you all will move out soon after that. Someday I won’t be able to be within arms reach anymore,”
Suddenly wrapped in caring, loving arms, Bubbles pulled him into a hug, “Someday, but not today,”
They took off, headed for school. Buttercup had not quite become anymore responsible from having to wake up Blossom in the mornings as she unzipped her bag at her locker to find her important textbooks missing.
Cramming in a week’s worth of studying into one night was irresponsible and to top it off, giving into her cravings had led her outside during the night, risking missing an emergency call back home. She had missed a few of those in her career, and her sisters were never pleased to be at a disadvantage against criminals.
To which she was reminded that there were never any breaks dealing with such at the sound of that unmistakable cackle, “Healed already? You took Chemical X, again, didn’t you?”
The Professor’s rule of protection served her well as she ignored him this time, but he was against letting her do so that easily, “You must’ve cried all the way home like the little baby you are,”
“Don’t call me baby,”
“Oh, you’re right,” he cackled again, “Stupid Powerpuff definitely suits you much better,”
Her chest rose greatly as her nostrils flared, and she let go of the great breath she inhaled to respond, “Butch, the bell already rang and if you don’t attend your classes you won’t be able to be on the team,”
The bell did not alarm him, “Is that what that sound is for? Good thing I don’t care,”
“Then quit bothering me at school, we have nothing to discuss if you’re not on the team and you know how Brick gets with you if you try anything at school,”
She could hear the silence that caught him and could feel the daggers behind her as he let her walk off. School had become a place of boundaries, surprisingly set by Brick after Boomer’s near fatal incident. Blossom had come home covered in blood in an almost hypnotic state that took a full day for her to recover from. After telling the Professor all that had happened at the Flower Dance, his protectiveness heightened and the rule of disassociating with the boys at school was set.
In that first year of high school, Butch was watched closely by Brick, Blossom noticed this first as expected. Buttercup noticed what the effects of being restrained did to him, something Blossom deemed nothing out of the ordinary. To Buttercup, it was a clear abnormality. Sure he was dangerous, but he was never before completely merciless with her, as if he wanted her dead, too. Though it was his ultimate goal, they had lived within the same space for so long, dying by his hands was still a fearful reality to be faced with.
Anyone could see it happening eventually, everyone told her. A criminal with an extensive record of handing out brutal beatings to anyone inferior to him would eventually turn on his own brothers. He had no reason to care and Buttercup was nearly convinced this was true. Until she saw how much he struggled inwardly.
She once read, “Be not violent or angry—peace lies within” stuffed inside a fortune cookie. Absolutely fortunate that phrase proved to be for her throughout her meditation training. Meditating was a gift sent when it came to taking back control, though last night she had nearly slipped. He saw her vulnerable to the threat of losing her self control and chose to leave her lying there.
Did he even realize?
Not if he willingly left. Traits of being analytical and wise were lost to him. He spent no time around her, suddenly showing up alone just as the thought crossed her, catching up to her in the hall as it filled. He may not have been aware of her as she was of him since Brick’s leadership struck her as lazy compared to Blossom’s concentrative and cautious approach. She could not let her guard down, not even for a second.
“Why are you bothering me?”
“I’m not bothering you if you’re the one who told me to meet you at lunch,”
Buttercup sighed, “I forgot I said that,”
Butch snidely smirked, “Isn’t school supposed to make you smarter and not dumber?”
“The only dumb one here is you, making it obvious you’re following me,”
In her peripheral, she thought she saw him stiffen, “Tsch, because following you is not a waste of my time,”
However sarcastic he wanted to sound, the building irritation made the air thick between them.
“I may have told you to meet me at lunch but that was before you told me you didn’t care about being on the team,” his quiet reply made her think he was still unsure of a decision, “You want to be on the team all have to do is go to your classes, it’s required,”
But he was stubborn, scoffing in her direction, “I’m not a student, I’m a Rowdyruff,”
“Let me tell you something,” she strangely noted his interest as he turned to look at her, “You want to talk about wasting time? I wasted my time when I put in a good word for you to be invited to the team,”
“What good words are there to say about me?” he raised a brow, then his lips again in that grin she only could describe as irritable, “So you do think my fighting techniques are awesome,”
“Awesome?” her wit was quick to shadow over her frown, grinning back at him, “No. More like praise worthy, but don’t take that as a compliment. Like me, you were just born that way, it’s nothing special,”
Certainly it was not a compliment, turning his grin dry of any appeal, “I think being the strongest in all of Townsville is way more than special, it’s downright awesome, and since it’s my birthright I’ll make sure to take you down to prove it,”
“Not everything between us has to be a competition, you know,”
“But that’s exactly why I was born, to be your competition,”
Struck by this truth, she paused before saying, “Then prove it,” opening the doors to the gymnasium.
Could she understand him? She asked herself how long it would take until she finally realized it was impossible when they were two different people. As he turned to see the mat still placed on the floor, he grinned her way as she flashed him a grin of her own.
Coming to many realizations about her counterpart lately caused her to worry for herself. For anyone to suspect she was alone with a Rowdyruff was turning into the least of her worries. Wrestling with him as if she was becoming the brute she could feel she always was, racing against the overwhelming rush of need to overpower him as he reciprocated to keep his advantage above her, it seemed that understanding him did not seem as impossible anymore.
Pinned, she struggled to speak, “You’re not supposed to use your powers!”
“That’s lame!”
She continued to struggle, “Those are the rules!”
Butch had always enjoyed seeing her withering beneath him, but never had he seen her withering clad in something so skintight, revealing to him every sway and jiggle her movements caused. His head whirled around as she sent him off her.
She locked her arm over his shoulder and around his neck, holding him down against the mat with all her might. The pin she had on him was a strategic counter strike, disabling his ability to move his arms over her to reverse their position. He struggled as much as she did to release himself from her hold, growing more aware of how her body squished against his.
“It’s called playing fair!” she forced out before breathing out relief once she let him go, “You can’t use your powers playing a normal sport, you do realize that you and I are the only ones who have superpowers on the team, right?”
He sat up, disturbed and reddened, “Don’t you know who I am?”
She took a sip of water then wiped her quenched lips,“You being a Rowdyruff isn’t an excuse. You just need to learn some self control,”
“I knew it,” he smirked, “This is all part of your scheme to make me weak,”
“What? No!”
“I’ll tell you who’s weak, it’s you! Crying because of me, begging me to stop using my powers!”
He was beginning to twitch as she raised onto her feet to shout, “I didn’t cry because of you and I haven’t begged you, I am simply trying to tell you your power is too much but you’re too dumb to see it even after what you did to Boomer!”
“You want to go there, Powerpuff?” his fists clenched as his eyes narrowed.
She dodged his fists and attempted to step in time to avoid his kick, but he angled his foot in time to land it at her hip. The wall hit her face faster than she felt herself forced through the air.
“You’re weaker than him!”
Her body moved quickly out of the way of his raging fist and sent his knuckles crashing into the destroyed brick wall.
“Stop!” she tried to shout loud enough to be heard over his roaring, intense anger.
The mat softened her head against the blow that sent her falling down.
Held by the neck, he squeezed the grip around her fragile flesh and bent her thin tendons, “There is no strength in self control!”
Breathe. She clawed at his fingers, feeling her face tighten.
“I’m a Rowdyruff! I’m the strongest there is!”
The restriction to breathe became threatening and Buttercup could no longer maintain the peace. Giving into her anger the surgance of enragement took over her along with the increase in power to turn the tables for the strongest Rowdyruff.
The floor beneath the mat cracked with each punch she landed into his abdomen. A fit of coughs spat out blood every time she battered him in the stomach, only regaining control of herself with the arrival of their siblings.
Without turning to look, she could sense their anger meshing into one. Brick remained silent while Blossom helped her to stand. The look on Brick’s face was one that deserved the response of fear and Buttercup realized he was surely going to restrain Butch even more.
That was all she could think of for what remained of the day and into the night. There were consequences to come from her actions, for the frown on Blossom’s face was the same expression the Professor gave her when rules had been broken.
At the dinner table, she finally breathed after having been given the silent treatment the entire night.
“I can explain,”
The Professor took a moment before allowing it. But Buttercup was not as fast to defend herself as she knew the explanation still left her guilty.
She stayed clear of looking him in the eyes, “We took it too far,”
“You certainly proved you’re capable, but at what cost? It’s fortunate that the practice room wasn’t completely destroyed, however, I was told your coaching privileges are suspended for a week because of this,”
Mojo knew his son had just undergone trial and error being experimented on and the results needed a full night's rest to show. Butch's vision was limited to one half open eye, the other was blue and bruised. The swelling on his face had yet to go down, and his hair was damp from the hour of sweating he had to endure trying not to flinch from the pain. Being cleansed for the open wound at the back of his head was the worst he had ever suffered.
Mojo kept turning to keep track of his recovery, every second counted. The Chemical X he created was mixed perfectly. However, it was not as potent as he would have preferred it to be. He mixed it carefully for hours, making sure it reached that signature dark shade. Its consistency was thick, and he worried he should have diluted it more before he used it on Butch.
Him read his mind, “I told you to loosen it with solution,”
“I rushed the process,”
“I can see the clumps in his hair, he's going to have to wash it out,”
“He can't wash it out just yet! I don't understand why the healing properties haven't begun taking effect, it's been five hours by now!”
Him swirled his wine in its glass, keeping his eyes on the back of Butch's head as Mojo washed dishes vigorously, “Chemical X is a delicate formula to master, you had sheer luck creating the boys in the first place. You may be intelligent but you're still a primate when it comes to chemistry,”
“If you know so much, why didn't you make it for the boy?”
“Because I have my own experiment to conduct,” Him savored the bittersweet wine that trickled down his throat.
“What would that be?” Mojo asked.
“I thought he had taken control over his impulses by now. It's been years since the incident,”
Mojo clicked his tongue, “The boy will always be lost to the power of destruction, it is his own fear that hinders him,”
“Fear is good,” Him said, setting the wine glass in the sink, its rim stained red, “I would rather come to the conclusion that he hasn't forgotten who he is than be faced with the fact he has given up on reaching his true power. At this rate, I will be able to assess his true power. That Powerpuff's knowledge on control will serve us well as you insisted,”
“Butch will never seize his need to be the strongest,” Mojo reached for the wine glass, smudging over the red as he scrubbed, “Until he can destroy her, that triumph is out of reach. He has always lacked self control, it is her training in restriction and Brick's own discipline that will take that boy out of his pride. He will be the beast I created him to be without restraint or care to who he has built bonds with,”
“We have come so far,” Him petted the top of Mojo's head, “It is the last year for our preparations. Soon, victory will be ours. Our precious Powerpuff won't be safe for much longer. Once Butch has come close to his destructible self, I will commence our plan at once,”
The TV shut off, silencing the room as Butch stood up.
“Remember to sleep on your side, boy, don't let your pillow absorb the Chemical X,” said Mojo, hoping that he was not ignored as Butch flew up the stairs. The wine glass was set upside down to dry and sparkled under the light.
Mojo turned back to Him, “The beast may be caged, but it will never be controlled. Your plan to make him realize this will surely work in our favor,”
“Fear and patience are always good for evil,” Him said and joined Mojo's stride to their bedroom.
Butch lay on his side when a flying textbook hit him in the back. The Chemical X had not fully healed his nerves as he groaned in pain.
“Read it for your upcoming test,”
Butch sat up, “Dude! I'm not reading that!”
“I figured you'd say that,” Brick left the room, hurling another book at Butch from the dark hallway. This time it was a notebook. He crossed his arms, “All the important stuff is in there. You'll take the test on Thursday at one sharp, don't be late. Room two o'four,”
Butch seethed, but Brick was unmoved, “West building. That means you take a right down the first hall. I'll be there, waiting for you,”
“Why do I have to take this stupid test?”
“It's an entrance test for alternative studies. You will pick up your slack with only one class if you pass it. If not, I'll make sure you go to all six classes like a normal student on the wrestling team,” Brick stopped at his door frame, “And get a door by tomorrow night,”
“But I might not be healed by then! What if they're out patrolling?”
“Are you saying you're too weak?”
His nerves pinched in his back, “I'm not weak,”
“Then you got nothing to worry about. One more thing, lose control or interrogate Blossom again and I will kill you,”
“Afraid I'll blow your cover with Queenie?”
Brick's eyes focused on Butch, peering red into the darkness.
“Huh,” Butch scoffed, “So all of this is that important,”
Wondering to himself what all of Brick's preparations and studies could mean, he reached for the notebook, thinking for a moment it would give him insight. Butch had not finished reading the first line of notes before flinging the notebook at his wall.
Agitated and angry with similar outcomes, Buttercup yelled, “I can't be forced to do extra community service for this! It’s important to know that he started it before you decide to punish me!”
“What's important is that you do as your told,” the Professor sounded unhappy to say the least, “You're also expected to help out at the boat docks tomorrow,”
Butch glared at Brick as he flew to pick up the notebook and aim it at his head, causing Butch to flinch and wince.
Brick whispered angrily, “You will study these notes until you memorize them like they're written on the back of your hand. You're going to keep to your word and do shit right, that is what's important,”
Butch felt his body shake, “This shit is unfair,”
In Buttercup’s bedroom, she uttered the same sentiment, “This is unfair,”
Blossom sat on Buttercup's bed, “Think about what could've happened. We haven't fought the Rowdyruff Boys in school for years. I'd like to keep it that way. The last thing I need is to face Brick's tirades during what should be the best years of my life. This is my last chance to tell Mitch how I feel, I don’t need violence ruining it. I've kept far away from Brick, and he's done the same with me. This is as close to peace between us that we can get,”
“There will never be peace between us,” Buttercup reached over to click off the light of her table lamp and find comfort wrapped in her blanket.
“That's how it's meant to be,” Blossom nodded, headed for her own room.
Morning arrived quickly and Buttercup slammed her alarm into a blissful silence. She enjoyed snoozing away for the entirety of five minutes before it blasted its siren for a second time. She jolted awake this time and rushed to get dressed. She refused to believe that she would be suspended from the wrestling team as the best athlete in all of Poaky Oats High.
If she could make it to school early enough, she could convince the head coach to bargain a fair punishment that would allow her to retain a rightful spot on the team. He had done it for her once before when her grades were unsatisfactory.
“I can't do that for you this time, Buttercup,” the coach sighed.
Buttercup's smile fell. Apparently asking for things nicely would never work for her and she groaned, “But you helped me out last time!”
“I didn't make this decision, it was Ms. Bellum, and I can't go against the decisions made by the head of City Hall,”
“No,” Buttercup came close to pouting over the balling of her fists, “But maybe I can,”
City Hall was only a minute's flight away. She landed on the steps of the grand building, noting that the hands on its architectural clock left her with enough time to speak to Ms. Bellum. She could not be tardy to school or the Professor would be notified thanks to their parent text messaging services. Every minute counted. Buttercup needed to change her mind.
Ms. Bellum, answering the telephone, was informed of Buttercup’s arrival from the front desk. Urgent, the lobby receptionist told her, but she dismissed her, asking the receptionist to remind Buttercup she should be prioritizing school before her own agenda.
Persistent, Buttercup never failed to become if she was denied what she most sought to acquire, and Ms. Bellum answered the second round of ringing from the telephone believing she would have to speak to Buttercup herself to send her to school, where she should be presently.
However, it was the Professor.
“I am sorry to bug you so early, but do you happen to know where Buttercup is?”
“Is she skipping school?” Ms. Bellum inquired, raising the Professor’s concerns.
“Surely she wouldn’t, I’ve raised her better and she cares about her school,” he defended his parental skills as much as his rebellious creation, “She was supposed to wake up Blossom and I have reason to believe she may be seeking to gain a favor from you after you revoked her wrestling privileges,”
“You need not worry, she’s accounted for here at City Hall. Even if she entertains me by asking, she won’t change my mind on it,” Ms. Bellum said, the phone buried in the voluminous poof of her bouncy curls, “But Professor Utonium, do you mind if I talk with Buttercup about boys?”
“I am sure she’s well aware of boys, Ms. Bellum, and she shows little interest on the subject,” The Professor sighed, assuming the same as Ms. Bellum why the topic mattered at all, “They’re evil boys. My girls wouldn’t find any qualities remotely attractive in either one of them,”
“There’s different ways to express desires, Professor. Tension comes in many different forms. Who else could Buttercup be herself around if not for her Rowdyruff counterpart?”
“If you’re insinuating there is more than meets the eye when it comes to my daughter with the least romantic tendencies, you will be relieved to know that Buttercup is the most resilient when it comes to losing her self control,”
Ms. Bellum felt his jab through the unflattering tone of his response. She swiveled herself around in her chair, now paying attention to a shaking door banged upon by a mighty fist.
“Professor, even the most disciplined teen will feel the need to misbehave and experience the rush of being bad. Evil is not the only sense of the word,” Ms. Bellum’s mouth came nearer to the end of the telephone as the door was swung open, “You may want to think this over, it may help Buttercup understand herself a little better,”
Buttercup reached the desk, her frown looming a shadow over Ms. Bellum as the phone clicked back onto the base. The Professor had managed to reconsider it in that second before she came within earshot of the phone conversation and Ms. Bellum was now sitting cross-armed in her orange button up dress. Her long legs straightened, clad in a sheer, dark pantyhose.
She greeted Buttercup, “Good morning, dear, what can I do for you?”
“Good morning? It’s a terrible morning! Why am I off the wrestling team when you know how much wrestling means to me!”
Ms. Bellum expressed calmness in her composure, “It’s the necessary action in response to your outburst. And it brought you to me, although I wish you had kept to your responsibilities before coming here, you and Blossom may be late for school,”
Buttercup reckoned disappointment at the responsibilities Ms. Bellum was referring to. Blossom was a deep sleeper, but she set her own alarms with the expectation that Buttercup might forget to wake her one morning. She hated knowing Blossom was right to expect her to make mistakes.
Ms. Bellum expected more out of her as Buttercup heard her go on, “Keeping you out of wrestling is also a benefit. You need to put your school and Townsville first,”
“Wrestling is a way for me to be me, I still keep my oath to Townsville,” Buttercup puffed.
“That’s not quite what I’m saying, Buttercup. You are the more physical one of your sisters, we all know this. And as a young woman, there are desires that only being physical can satisfy. The same can be said for young men, but trying to find the opportunity to experience this brings us to make a lot of mistakes, and your emotions can overpower your judgment,”
Ms. Bellum rested her hands on Buttercup’s shoulders and gently carried on, “I tried not to assume, but given the circumstances and the rumors of what makes the practice room the perfect spot for such occasions, I couldn’t think of any other reason you would be alone with him. This may feel like something you think you want, but there are greater consequences to being involved with your enemy,”
Sirens began ringing in Buttercup’s mind, “What do you mean, Ms. Bellum? We happened to run into each other and it doesn’t take much for me to want to pummel his cocky face just looking at it. I just lost control,”
Ms. Bellum lifted her hand off Buttercup’s shoulder to rest on her chest, “I was beginning to worry you and Butch may be trying to release built up tension between you both,”
“Are you seriously thinking I was trying to have sex with… him?” Buttercup’s mouth tasted of acid and it disgusted her, “I have standards!”
“Sometimes you find yourself choosing the most unlikely match,”
The Mayor happened to waltz in, heading to his office and carrying a half eaten pickle. Skipping past the two women he had yet to acknowledge, his content in life munching on his pickle brought a light upon Ms. Bellum’s face. Buttercup repulsed the idea of love and was physically reacting to the thought that anyone would consider the act of it to ever happen between her and the green Rowdyruff.
“You don’t look too good, I might call the Professor and let him know you should stay home today,”
Buttercup forced herself to swallow a thick lump down her throat, “I’m fine, but please, don’t ever tell me again what you just did,”
Ms. Bellum chuckled, “It does sound absurd! But not completely out of the realm of possibility, because Buttercup, sometimes we don’t realize a boy has become a man until we find ourselves in an awkward situation that opens our eyes up to that fact all along,”
“I’m not listening anymore to this. Ms. Bellum, get me back on the wrestling team,” Buttercup sounded demanding, until she lowered her voice, “It’s the only sport I can fight in and it helps with my meditation, please,”
“Alright, but only if you promise me you won’t go picking fights with Butch at school again,”
Her balled fists trembled, “I promise.”
His own fist weighed on the papers of the open notebook as he continued to stare at the same word he had been since the night before. He stayed up only to squeeze his fists repeatedly, testing his recovering strength, waiting for the power to return to him. Once it did, he would find her.
Mojo poked his head into the room with a load of laundry, “Go wash your hair out now, boy,”
“Shut up,”
Mojo had heard much worse coming from Butch that his demand was ignored, “Come to the observatory immediately after so I can assess that you will be healed in time for you to take that test, there are only two days for you to recover!”
Mojo left Butch to his growling and the pounding of his fists on his bed. His hair had dried overnight, leaving it crusted over and stuck together. Chemical X became a paste if left to dry and it knotted his hair. Like gel, it held his hair together in a thick clump. The discomfort of laying on his side for so long had stiffen his joints, and a shower was now something he not only needed but wanted.
Everything about this morning had started off wrong. Cold water made his clumped hair more difficult to massage with shampoo. Hot water would have to do, much to his displeasure. Mojo said his head had healed, but the water’s scorching trail fell into a split in his skin that had not scabbed over. Not expecting the pain caused him to wince in surprise. That surprisement made him throw his head into the tiled wall, and the trail of water turned red down the drain.
Mojo rushed to the bathroom where he knew the crack in the wall began. The steam flooded out like thick fog as he opened the door and he found Butch fallen over on his knees in the red tinted bath. Quickly, he shut the water off, focusing all his strength to lift Butch out of the tub. The time of being able to pick up his son with one hand was long gone. Lifting resorted to dragging when Mojo could barely manage to support Butch’s arm thrown around his shoulder.
Through intense struggle, Mojo managed to get Butch onto the floor and onto his stomach, throwing a towel over his backside. He ran to the observatory to gather medical supplies, frantically rushing back to Butch and beginning to stitch his open head wound after properly cleaning it.
“What’s going on here?” Brick interrupted.
“What does it look like, boy? I’m administering first aid,” Mojo bit and snipped the thread from the needle, moving Butch’s hair out of the way to get a good look that the stitches were set in place, “He should’ve been healed by now!”
Brick knelt over, looking at the wound, seeing regenerating skin in a line at the base of it. He moved his hair over to follow the line down the side of his spine, Mojo following it as well. At the middle of his back was a bruise, turning his skin black.
Brick seethed, “It’s a bruising caused by potent Chemical X, pure and freshly made. She must’ve taken some before she beat him. It explains the powered up waves I felt that I thought were Butch at first. How did you not see this?”
“I assumed it was one of the regular bruises. I need to get my hands on that Chemical X,” Mojo’s hands closed into fists, “Go and get me that pure Chemical X, now,”
“I can go tonight,” Brick covered Butch with the towel, “The Professor doesn’t make Chemical X to store. I overheard those Powerpuffs talking about proportions when he uses it on the manly one whenever Butch does her in, so I’ll make sure I get her to the brink of death tonight and make him mix more than usual. I’ll steal some then,”
Mojo hesitated, “You’ll be powerless in their home, Professor Utonium has it fortified. Are you sure they won’t catch you?”
“I’m a criminal mastermind, and I know how to commit the perfect crimes,”
“But if she catches you she will stop you, boy, and it may lead to the end of all of our preparations,” Mojo warned, bothered slightly by the concern lingering off his tongue.
“Not if she’s asleep,” Brick picked Butch off of the floor easily, astounding Mojo into an awe of silence.
Brick laid Butch flat on his back on the bed before stepping back. He searched through Butch’s drawers for two sets of clothes. After dressing his brother, he kept the extra set for himself to change into later. Although he would never admit it to anyone, seeing his brother in his weakened state darkened his mind further. His years of preparation were on the line; his plan was too much of a risk to take, Mojo knew that much.
As did he. He was more than aware of all that would be at stake if she did catch him. But he was smarter, now, he reminded himself. She may have interfered with his plans of havoc and thrown them in jail, but she would not overuse her resources. There were different priorities to her now, he recalled as he thought of the information he gathered that morning. Mitch was approved at the end of the last school year to participate in the advanced senior science project, all he needed was a partner.
Assuming he would pick Blossom was not a feeling, but a prediction. Brick had never miscalculated his predictions. He could read people for who they were and what their intentions were. Mitch may have fooled Blossom more times than not throughout the years that he was as smart as he claimed to be. Brick knew he was smarter than she when she failed to see right through the game Mitch played. He could tell Mitch wanted her, and he had watched her enough to know she felt the same.
It was intelligence that attracted her. Mojo’s hunch that turning him to his studies would give him an advantage was right. He could easily out rank Mitch and play her for the true fool she was once she realized his mind’s hidden potential. Brick only needed to find the perfect opening to take the opportunity to show her how intelligent he truly was and manipulate her trust all without her suspecting a thing.
He needed to know more of her weaknesses, despite all the years he had watched her, she was too secretive when it came to her most personal thoughts. The manly one would whine about being treated unfairly and the popular one overcompensated her kindness for her true vanity. But Blossom, he gritted his teeth, was neither unfair nor unhumbled.
She was…
“Perfect,” Mojo appeared in the room, “You will wear a disguise, yes! A plan they, too, were successful with, it’s karma at its finest,”
“Move out of my way,” Brick grumbled, flying his way out of the house.
Mojo blinked at a loss for thought until diminishing the mood change to one word, “Teenagers!”