More Than Human, ch10, part 2

[essbeejay]

For those who were blocked from accessing it on FFN! (This was a giant pain in the ass to format for DW and I still fucking hate the way it turned out looking, so if you read it here I would really, really, REALLY appreciate a comment. If it garners no comments, then I apologize, but I'm not sure I'll bother posting it anywhere besides FFN due to the level of aggro involved.)

More Than Human, ch10 

part 1
part 2

Title: More Than Human
Chapter 10: Tried to Stick A Dead Body Inside of Me, or I Think You Should Know You're His Favorite Worst Nightmare
Pairing: RrB/PpG
Rating: R/M, because they're teenagers and a good handful of them use terrible, filthy language.
Disclaimer: Pay your respect to Craig, not me.
Summary: There is no way I can make this sound original, ever. My attempt to write a believable RrB/PpG in high school fic. Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal. – Camus
Notes: Immense thanks to my betas, Arrows and Red, who took up the editing arms and helped me drag this blasted chapter across the Finish Line; thanks always to mathkid and juxtaposie, who helped it to the Starting Line all those years ago.


***

 The following afternoon found the two sisters who hadn't been on guard duty working atop the roof.

 

“Blossom, help me weigh that corner down,” Bubbles said, pointing to indicate the bit of tarp that kept flying up.

 

Blossom flew over with one of the rocks Bubbles had carried up to the roof and did as she asked. “Are we ever going to see this art project of yours, Bubbles?”

 

“Maybe.” She laid another rock on the last corner and announced, “Done. Now to get ready for Homecoming. Are you sure you're not coming, Blossom?”

 

Blossom laughed as they flew down to the backyard, now animal-free—the pigs had been returned to the Jones family after last night's game (decked out in Townsville High jerseys, of course)—and into the house.

 

“Pretty sure. I don't have a dress, anyway.”

 

“You could totally borrow one of mine.”

 

“Still don't want to go, sorry.”

 

Bubbles pouted. “I wanted to do your makeup!”

 

“Bubbles, you've only got—” Blossom paused to check the clock. “Three hours until Boomer picks you up.”

 

“Oh, I better start getting ready,” Bubbles said in a rushed panic, and dashed into their bathroom.

 

Three hours later (two assignments later, for Blossom), Bubbles was putting the finishing touches on her hair.

 

“Your dress is so... sparkly,” Buttercup said, eyeing their sister from her bed with considerable disdain. “How many vampires died to make that dress?” After a second of consideration, she added, “Please tell me a lot.”

 

“Last chance to change your mind, Blossom,” Bubbles said, ignoring their dark-haired sister. “You could always show up fashionably late.”

 

“Busy doing homework.”

 

“You two are freaks,” Buttercup said.

 

The doorbell rang, and the girls heard their father's hurried footsteps, making a mad dash for the door. Bubbles snatched her purse and jetted downstairs.

 

“Professor!” she scolded. “No!”

 

Buttercup swung her legs over the edge of her bed and picked a hoodie off of her headboard. “Guess I'll head out, too.”

 

Blossom looked up. “Where? Are you going to Homecoming?”

 

Buttercup scoffed and gave her leader an offended look as she unplugged her cell from its charger. “What? Please. I'm meeting up with the guys.”

 

“Well, go have fun.” A thought occurred to her, and she looked up. “Pranking's over, Buttercup!” Blossom called after her sister as she made her way downstairs. After a second's consideration, Blossom floated to their windows and glanced at the driveway. Bubbles and Boomer were making their getaway, while Buttercup left in a much more subdued manner. Robin, who was in her driveway next door, waved at the three of them.

 

Blossom opened up one of the windows, a motion that caught Robin's attention.

 

“Hey! Where's your dress?” Robin cried.

 

“I'm not going,” Blossom called back. “Where's Mike?”

 

There was a hint of a smile on her friend's face. “On his way. You know, Blossom, it's your senior year. You should go.”

 

Blossom pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I've got things to do.”

 

“Things that start with Math and end in Science?”

 

“Actually, they're ending in Econ.” At the look on her friend's face, Blossom said, “Don't worry, I'm fine.”

 

“It's a special night, Blossom!”

 

“You know, Buttercup's not going to Homecoming.”

 

“But she has plans! You have... homework.”

 

“Thanks for worrying about me, Robin. I'm fine.” With a salute, Blossom shut herself back in her room, against the cries of protest resounding from her friend's yard.

 

“Sweetie,” a voice at the door said, and Blossom turned to find the Professor standing in the hall. “You know, if you change your mind, I can give you a ride.”

 

“Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?!” Blossom laughed in disbelief. “It's just a silly high school dance!”

 

“Well, Blossom, it's just...” The Professor leaned on the doorframe and looked around the girls' room before continuing. “It's just that you've always spent... a lot of time in the house. Studying and all.”

 

She crossed her arms and said dryly, “Would you rather I didn't focus on my schoolwork?”

 

“And you've only ever been to two dances. Your freshman year, and your junior year.”

 

“Buttercup's only been to one—”

 

“Sweetheart,” the Professor interjected, striding into the room to grasp her gently by the shoulders, “I just don't want you to regret missing out on these things. I mean, you're gonna...” He swallowed, doing that dewy-eyed dad thing again. “You're going to be graduating... soon...”

 

Blossom sighed. “Oh, Professor—”

 

The home phone rang, and they both looked around for the receiver in the girls' room. Blossom found it buried under Bubbles' mattress and answered. It was for the Professor.

 

He groaned. “More trouble with the monster barrier,” he explained to Blossom after he hung up. “I gotta head downtown.”

 

She helped him gather up his stuff and, with no small amount of frustration, assured him she was fine staying at home alone on Homecoming night.

 

“I'm a big—” She cut off at the Professor's trembly lip, and amended, “I'll be fine. See you when you get back, Professor.”'

 

As he drove off, Blossom floated back upstairs. Her Physics assignment sat, ready and waiting, and she stared at it for a little bit before sighing and taking her pencil in hand.

 

***

 

Butch and Buttercup stared at Brick's Coil, “parked” carefully on the top of the hotel roof.

 

“It'd be awesome,” Buttercup said.

 

“It'd be suicide,” Butch responded. “He flew it up here so no one would mess with it. If we touched it—”

 

“We'd just be switching its spot, is all.”

 

Butch gave her a pointed look. “He'd kill me.”

 

She crossed her arms. “Who claimed it was 'always worth it?'”

 

“I was talking about fighting then. This is Brick's car.” Butch started gesturing to himself. “He will cut me and peel off my skin and then let me bleed out to death through my entire body. He might even crucify me afterwards so my corpse can warn other people not to do crazy shit like touch his car.”

 

Buttercup shrugged. “Fine. If you're going to be such a pussy about it—”

 

A huge boom shook the building, upsetting their balance. The Coil swayed slightly, and Buttercup looked to the coast, her brow knit with concern. She pulled out her phone and stared at it.

 

“You getting a call?” Butch asked.

 

“No,” she said, frowning. After awhile, she said, “I guess it's nothing serious. Otherwise someone would be calling.” She continued to stare at her phone.

 

“What the hell was that?” Butch said.

 

She shoved her cell back into her pocket and glanced at the coast one last time. “Beats me.”

 

***

 

“You haven't heard from MG yet, I take it?”

 

It took Brick a second to remember what Julie was talking about. He guided them around another couple as they swayed on the dance floor.

 

“Oh. Modern Girl. No, not yet.”

 

She pursed her lips in a manner Brick might have, at one point, found cute. “I wonder whose photos were featured. Next to yours, I mean. I hope mine were good enough.”

 

“You're not bad,” he said, and Julie snorted.

 

“Oh, is that supposed to be a compliment? I suppose I'd better take what I can get with you.”

 

Overall, the night had been going fine. It had started with a group dinner, followed by a mass exodus to the hotel hosting this year—again, courtesy of Mrs. Morbucks. And Julie was nice. She was funny. Kinda wholesome looking; there was nothing remotely smoldering or exotic about her looks. Pretty in a plain way, and a decent dancer. Socialized well. Knew her way around a canvas, and made respectable grades.

 

Brick had spent the entire night repeating this litany of justifications to himself. He was so over getting involved with—and in—other things. They were distracting. He was losing sight of the bigger picture. He had to focus on what he wanted and ignore everything else.

 

He spied Boomer with Bubbles' head on his shoulder a few feet away, the two of them lost in their own little world, and made a mental note to have a talk with Boomer about that.

 

“You know, Brick, I have to ask,” Julie said, pulling Brick out of his thoughts. She hesitated before continuing, staring at his collar instead of at his face. “Would you have asked me to Homecoming... even if you hadn't been fighting with Blossom?”

 

His body felt as if it had suddenly frozen from the inside out; even the air around him grew cold as he glared and said in a low snarl, “What's that supposed to mean?”

 

One drawback to Julie, Brick noted, was that she was virtually immune to his Scary Face. “I mean would you have asked me to Homecoming on your own? Ever? Would it have even crossed your mind if you hadn't been trying to get back at her?” Her lips went thin as she continued to work herself up. “I mean, I don't much appreciate being a prop for your—”

 

A sudden boom rattled the ground, disrupting the music and upsetting the chandeliers. A few screams echoed in the room, followed by excited, nervous chatter. Boomer and Bubbles exchanged a glance, then looked at Brick.

 

“What was that?” Julie said, her anger momentarily forgotten as she gripped the lapels of Brick's jacket.

 

She crossed his mind, briefly, and he said, his voice firm and resolute, “Probably nothing.”

 

***

 

Blossom had felt the boom all the way over in the suburbs, and she'd leaped up to look out the window just as the Hotline rang.

 

“Blossom here,” she said. “What's the trouble?”

 

“Blossom!” the Mayor sputtered. “It's all dark over here and I'm scared!”

 

There was a scuffle on the other end and then the Professor's voice came on the line, frantic. “Blossom?!”

 

Her heart shot into her throat; if it was the Professor it couldn't be good. “What's wrong?”

 

“The barrier's down! Completely! There was a massive power surge and it's completely wiped out the power downtown! We can't get our equipment back online, and the backup generator krzzz destroyed... krzzzelectromagnetic krzz—”

 

“Professor, I'm losing you,” Blossom said, trying to stay calm, but with the Professor as panicked as he was...

 

The lights started flickering, and she managed to make out “Mon—” before the line and lights went completely dead.

 

A roar echoed from outside, and Blossom dropped the phone and dashed out the window. The power looked to be knocked out for the entire neighborhood, and off in the distance she could see more lights flickering off, as if a cloud of darkness was passing over the city.

 

Another roar, from the downtown area, and a sudden urgency flared up in her as she thought of the Professor.

 

The smart thing to do was to get Bubbles and Buttercup, but as she sped downtown and tugged out her phone she discovered that, too, was dead. She frowned, but a scream jolted her out of her thoughts.

 

I'll have to go get them later. First she had to get as many folks to safety as possible. Then she would worry about her sisters.

 

As she dashed up to catch a woman who had just fallen out of a building, the monster who had disturbed it roared again.

 

“Alright, you—” Blossom started to snarl, but she was interrupted by a second roar from another monster, followed by a third from a third, and a fourth from a fourth...

 

The woman in her arms screamed as another four monsters appeared, and Blossom gaped as the panic that had arrested her senses multiplied tenfold.

 

***

 

At the distant sound of a roar Buttercup's head whipped around, searching.

 

Butch paused, the Coil raised above his head. “I guess something's up after all.”

 

She set down the car they were switching Brick's with and yanked out her phone. “That's impossible.”

 

Butch shifted the cargo in his hands. “What?”

 

“My phone's dead. I just charged it before I left—”

 

Suddenly a pink streak sailed through the side of the hotel, leaving a jagged hole that was roughly Blossom's size, followed by a flying, squid-like monster that went screaming into the roof, where Brick's car had been only a minute ago.

 

“Holy shit, that fucker is so lucky we moved his car,” Butch breathed.

 

Buttercup took off for the building, but a roar from behind stopped her, and she and Butch looked to see another two monsters bearing down the street.

 

She swore and shot off towards them instead as Butch set down Brick's car to join her.

 

***

 

Something's coming.

 

Brick felt it in every nerve in his body, and he pushed Julie aside as he stepped forward, looking around. It was something big. Something...

 

Blossom came crashing through the wall and in the span of a second Brick lifted his arms to catch her, then thought better of it and swiveled out of the way so the punch table could catch her instead. She jumped to her feet, dripping in foodstuffs and punch, then took in the crowd—especially the girls, with their beautiful dresses and done-up hair—and muttered under her breath, “Great.”

 

A bigger crash pulled everyone's attention, and they turned to see a giant squid smash through the wall, inspiring a new, protracted round of screaming and fleeing. Boomer was beginning to form a sword when Bubbles grabbed him and dragged him away, out into the lobby.

 

A slimy tentacle shot towards Brick, and he ducked. It rammed into Blossom instead, wrapped around her, and flung her to the other side of the room, where she went crashing into the wall.

 

Brick was already forming an energy beam in his hands.

 

You're too involved.

 

The tentacle flicked up and slammed her into another wall.

 

You're losing sight of the bigger picture.

 

Into the chandeliers.

 

You have to focus on what you want and ignore everything else—

 

Into the floor, where her head smacked against the floor and bounced—

 

Brick was moving toward her when she lifted her head, jaw set in grim determination, and blew, icing over the length of tentacle that ensnared her. She then kicked, breaking off shards, and as the monster screamed she threw the limp appendage away and eyebeamed it in the face.

 

It thrashed around and as it whipped its tentacles about the room, one of them smacked into an unlucky girl. She made a horrified, extremely pissed off noise—she'd gotten a suction cup in the face—and then made more frantic noises as the monster lifted her off the floor and began to fling her around.

 

Blossom gasped in horror and moved from trying to destroy the beast to trying to save the girl, who was thrown into Brick and sent them both towards the wall—perhaps a small comfort for her, but at a particularly unappealing price, as her face was covered in slime and she now reeked of fish.

 

“How is that thing retaining any moisture?” Brick wondered aloud as he flung the girl in his arms aside.

 

As if hearing him, the monster turned and charged. Brick's eyes flashed red, but before he could act Blossom rammed into it from behind, slamming its body to the floor. All of its remaining tentacles dashed up and coiled around her, then whacked her once more into the wall.

 

Her hair was a mess and her brow was beaded with sweat, but there wasn't a trace of weariness or fatigue in her face. There was only grim determination, making itself known in the tense jaw, the gritted teeth, the hard eyes...

 

The squid-like creature threw her back outside into the night sky and took off after her. Brick's legs moved of their own accord—one, two steps, and then he was in the air, the wind whipping around him and knocking the boutonnière off the lapel of his jacket.

 

***

 

“Bubbles!” Boomer cried. “What are you—”

 

“I have to change,” she explained, and he blinked.

 

“'Change?' You have to... are you serious?!”

 

Bubbles only gripped his wrist harder as they sped back to her house. A roar sounded off in the distance, and Boomer glanced back.

 

He looked at her again and said, “Do you really think—”

 

She halted and glared at him, her gaze so sharp he could've sworn he'd been poked in the eyes with a needle.

 

“I know this is going to sound so stupid, and petty, and, and so, so girly,” she said through gritted teeth, “but do you have any idea how much I spent on this dress?”

 

The question blindsided him, and he stared for a second before going, “Uh—”

 

“Not just money! The time!” The wind ruffled her skirt as she took to flying again, dragging him with her. “All the shopping I did, all the dresses I tried on? The hairstyle I had to figure out to go with it? The accessories and makeup? I am going home, and I am pulling on a pair of ratty old jeans, and this dress isn't going to see one second of a monster fight because it is the result of weeks of shopping and a lot of indecisiveness and some artistic arranging and a good hunk of cash! I don't care how stupid it sounds! I am not going to risk ruining it!”

 

***

 

Buttercup swung the dazed beast around a couple of times to gain momentum, then let go, flying up to watch it sail far into the distance, back into the ocean and probably well past Monster Island. Below her, the last few straggling civilians were heading east on foot and by car, away from the coast.

 

“One down,” she said to herself, then looked down at Butch, who was entertaining himself by shanking the other monster—limp on the ground—with what had once been a street lamp. She dashed down to the street and ripped the lamp out of his hands.

 

“Dude! It's not gonna get any deader!”

 

The twisty little grin was still on his face, and his eyes were sparkling. “But it feels so cool—”

 

A flying squid monster—or, at least what they assumed was a squid monster (it was missing all of its tentacles and its eyes had glassed over)—sailed over their heads and disappeared into the black night. Blossom flew up, smelling faintly of fish.

 

“Oh good, you're... here,” she said, recoiling a bit at the mess of the monster Butch had been attacking. “How many have you gotten?”

 

“Two, including this guy,” Buttercup said, indicating the dead monster in the street.

 

“Two for me, too,” Blossom said, looking up. “That leaves one more.”

 

“There's another?” Buttercup gaped.

 

“There's another?!” Butch lit up.

 

A huge, bone-quaking THOOM echoed down the street, and the three of them exchanged a glance. A giant shadow passed over them, and they looked up. And up. And up.

 

“Whoa,” Buttercup and Butch whispered.

 

Blossom bit her lip, grim. “Yeeeeah.”

 

***

 

Brick saw it. It was huge. It towered over the tallest building, on two long, thin legs that didn't look capable of supporting it. Its skin was milky white and vaguely translucent, and it dragged its arms as it walked, its gait stilted and awkward. Where there should've been a face was only a gaping maw. As it approached, Brick felt the air buzzing with energy, and he looked back. Off in the distance, lights were shutting down—this thing was responsible for the power outages and dead phone lines. It was like a walking voltage spike.

 

Three streaks—one pink, two green—charged up and began blasting. The thing twitched briefly after each hit, but seemed mostly unfazed. It simply continued to move forward in its slow, methodical manner.

 

Brick landed in the empty street, staring. A flickering green shield appeared, then moved, the sharp edge of it slicing off an arm, and the thing pulled away and groaned. Sparks ghosted along its body, and it raised its other arm and fired a current of electricity at Butch.

 

His shield disappeared as there was a pop, followed by a faint stream of smoke and a very audible sizzle, and Brick watched as his brother's figure fell to the ground. Buttercup dashed down to catch him while Blossom circled it—in some kind of pattern, it looked like—and attempted to blast at the joint of its other limbs from behind.

 

A valiant effort that was rewarded by another surge of electricity, and then Blossom, too, fell.

 

Brick clenched and unclenched his fists. This wasn't really his business. If Butch wanted to get involved, that was his deal. Brick didn't have to be a part of it just because they were brothers. And the girls... it wasn't like Brick had any real ties to them. And JS, Inc. had told them to keep a low profile...

 

I shouldn't, he thought. Even though I could. Blossom and Butch rose into the air again, and he dimly registered Blossom barking an order. This is not how it should be. Don't get involved. It's none of my business.

 

The monster continued to move forward, occasionally shooting at the girls and his brother with its one arm. For all that it was moving slowly, after having lost an arm, it was still remarkably quick to attack, shooting sparks at Butch every time he tried the shield thing again. Blossom flew down and blew, her ice breath frosting over the street and freezing the thing's feet to the ground. It swayed to keep its balance and shot at all of them again.

 

What the fuck are you doing?! Brick's brain screamed at him, and he blinked as the scenery rushed past on either side of him. His feet pounded the pavement as he sped up the street, almost moving of their own accord, and as Blossom turned to see him approaching, her expression astonished, he kicked off the ground and landed a blow square in what would've been the monster's chest.

 

Its arc back towards the street was almost graceful and seemed to happen in slow motion. As it went down, its good arm swiped at Brick, who dodged it easily. Blossom was already freezing it before it had fully hit the ground.

 

As ice crackled over the very top of it, a green glint in the sky hurtled down to Earth, and Blossom, Brick, and Butch shielded their faces as Buttercup landed right in the monster's center. Shards of frozen monster exploded into the air, green light trailing after them. The shards embedded themselves in glass and concrete buildings; Butch had to throw up a shield while Brick and Blossom did the dodging dance again.

 

“Buttercup!” Blossom scolded. “Watch it!”

 

“I watched it, alright,” Buttercup said as she dusted off her hands, smug. “Watched it go PSHHHH.” She indicated an explosion with her hands, smirking at her sister.

 

“That should fix the electrical interference,” Brick said, distracting Blossom from launching into a screaming match with Buttercup. “City will have to kick the power back on.”

 

“The plants are all on the west side of the city, by the coast,” Blossom explained. “The only people there right now would be our dad and his team.”

 

“Phone's still down.” Buttercup peered at her cell.

 

Brick pretended to not look at Blossom and said, “Well, yeah, someone's got to get everything back on line—Butch! Put it down!” He made a threatening gesture at his brother, who had picked up a frozen monster shard. “Quit dicking around!”

 

“Buttercup and I will go tell the Professor,” Blossom said, voice firm. And then, with a touch of reluctance, she glanced at Brick.

 

He suddenly felt very silly to be standing there in a tuxedo.

 

“Um, thanks for all your—”

 

Something plowed into Brick, cutting Blossom off, and she gasped as he went skidding across the asphalt, fighting off what looked like a nasty mutated lizard the size of a lion.

 

“Holy fucking shit!” Butch exclaimed, and Blossom looked up to see another slew of monsters—far more than five, far more than ten, even—of every shape and size, running, flying, crawling, slithering towards them. A symphony of discordant, earsplitting monster cries reverberated in the air, drowning out the very audible sound of her gulp.

 

“Butch!” she barked, making him jump. “Shield!”

 

A solid wall of green slammed into the approaching monsters, who all snarled and began pounding against it.

 

No time to panic, Blossom thought frantically to herself. Think of a plan, think of a plan—

 

“Butch, stay put! Buttercup and I will work on sending them back; you need to stay here and hold your shield!”

 

“What?! Oh, fuck that! No deal! I'm not playing defense!” he snapped, and suddenly a very pissed off Blossom was snarling in his face.

 

“Do not curse at me,” she growled. “For once, you are going to do exactly as I say, unless you want to find out what your own kidneys taste like.”

 

A screech from above caught her attention, and she looked up to find a few of the flying monsters had flown up, over Butch's shield, and were now diving towards them. As she took flight to ward them off, Butch and Buttercup exchanged a glance.

 

On the rag? Butch mouthed at his friend.

 

Buttercup made a fuck-you face and took off to join her sister.

 

On the ground, Brick jammed his fist into the side of the thing on him and snapped its jaw before throwing its limp body aside. A solid green streak—Buttercup—crashed, creating a sizable crater in the middle of the road. The monster that had attacked her moved from its fallen opponent to Brick, who snarled and blasted its head off. He took to the skies as the monster's carcass fell and Buttercup began to rise out of the asphalt.

 

There were three other flying monsters that Blossom was handling remarkably well for being one person, superpowers or no, and as she grabbed the wings of two of them and slammed them into each other Brick made easy work of the third with his eyebeams. A shower of ash fluttered to the ground, and as for Blossom's, she ripped off the wings of each dazed creature.

 

There seemed to be a suspended moment of time where each one realized it could no longer fly, and then they fell, screaming, to the ground.

 

“Aw, you guys had all the fun without me,” Buttercup said with a pout as she flew up.

 

“Don't get yourself knocked out next time,” Brick quipped, and the dark-haired girl issued him a glare.

 

From below them, there was an “Oof!” They all looked down to find one of the monsters Blossom felled had landed on Butch. There was a slight buzzing sound, and then the giant green shield that held back the rest of the monsters flickered off.

 

“Oh, shit,” Brick and Buttercup intoned, and the three of them scattered, pulling back as the mass of things that clearly wanted to do the girls and the boys immense harm surged forth.

 

A burst of wind—colored bright blue, if wind bursts could have a color—blew past them, and Boomer, still suited for Homecoming, twirled the giant, sparking blue weapon in his hands and sliced it horizontally against the mass, cutting several of the larger monsters into several pieces. Those that were small enough to escape were met with a blue blast from Bubbles, and just like that, the majority of the monster onslaught was taken down.

 

Boomer turned and grinned at the group, brandishing what they could now see was a glowing blue scythe in his hands. “Neat, huh? I'd never even thought of making one of these before!”

 

“Did you seriously go home to change while monsters were attacking the city?” Blossom said reproachfully to her sister as Bubbles joined them.

 

Before the blonde could speak, Boomer cut in, his tone serious. “Do you have any idea how much she spent on that dress?”

 

“You fucks!” Butch shouted as he flew up, covered in monster goo. “You leave me on the ground to hold a fucking wall and then you dump a shitload of dead monsters on me?!”

 

“Watch the language,” Blossom said with a frown. The scythe in Boomer's hands disappeared, and he poked curiously at an eyeball on Butch's shoulder.

 

“There's still some left,” Bubbles assured him, pointing at the ground. Sure enough, a lucky few had survived Boomer and Bubbles' attack and were now snarling from below as they tried to swipe at the girls and the boys.

 

“There's still more coming.”

 

Everybody looked at Brick. He blinked, realizing the voice had come from him. It took him a second to process; he hadn't meant to speak, hadn't even been thinking the words. He had only been so overcome with a sudden knowledge that the night wasn't over—

 

The monstrous roars in the far distance almost seemed a punctuation mark to his statement. As they looked up to confirm with sight what they'd just heard, the only movement in that instant was Boomer, who reached out a hand, and Bubbles, who took it in hers.

 

Butch then broke the moment by saying, almost reverentially, “Dude. Homecoming beats the shit out of Prom.”

 

***

 

Someone at the plants had managed to get the communication towers working again and the Professor had called Blossom to let her know that he was fine, that they were working on the monster barrier, and that she and the rest of the girls and boys should focus on getting whatever monsters they could out of Townsville. Which shouldn't have been too bad, except...

 

Blossom hadn't even known that Monster Island was capable of supporting all the things that were invading the city tonight. None of the friendly ones were present, either—all of the monsters making it in were vicious, snarling, angry things. And yet there was still something off about them... something odd...

 

She flung another one back out to the water; Butch and Buttercup were at the coast, the team's first line of defense. Bubbles, Brick, and Boomer were all in the center of the city, tracking down any monsters that had already infiltrated Townsville. Blossom herself was midway between the two groups to catch anything in between.

 

Why are there so many?

 

There was a sound, then, approaching rapidly, and she tensed and dove out of the way as Butch went flying by. Another huge, Godzilla-esque monster was on its way; she could see the flash of green surrounding it as Buttercup attempted to ward it off. With Butch and his shield down, Blossom dashed up to help her sister, who, true to character, was doing a fine job of royally pissing the giant thing off.

 

Before Blossom could even work in a punch or beam, the monster took a deep breath and issued a rancid, bone-quaking, sonic boom of a roar so powerful that it halted both girls in their tracks and sent them spiraling dazedly to the ground.

 

Blossom's brain was still buzzing as she sensed that immense shadow passing over her into the city, followed by a dozen smaller scurrying things. She pushed herself up out of the concrete and started blasting what she could, but then the buzzing in her head started up again...

 

No. It wasn't in her head. The monsters that had begun pouring in—those of them that she could see from here, about a couple hundred feet into the water—suddenly stopped, as if confronted with an invisible wall.

 

“They got it!” she cried in triumph to Buttercup, who groaned as she pushed herself up. “The Professor got the barrier back up!”

 

“Great,” Buttercup said, clearly over this whole night. “Now we just need to worry about all the fuckers that we still need to get out.”

 

“No need for cursing, Buttercup,” Blossom reprimanded. They both began chasing after the monsters and carried on with the blasting, flinging, and general violence. Once again, there was the nagging little thought in Blossom's head that there was something off tonight... something about the monsters and where they all were going...

 

Buttercup cut into her thoughts. “You know, for rampaging monsters, these guys aren't doing a lot of city-munching or destroying or... you know, rampaging.”

 

Blossom blinked at her sister. “You're right.” Even the first monsters Blossom had faced tonight had not seemed very focused on knocking over buildings or noshing on people. No... every monster tonight had just continued pushing forward, as if they were trying to get somewhere...

 

“Blossom, is it just me, or are all these guys headed in one direction?”

 

Buttercup was full of bright ideas tonight. Blossom put a stopper on the defense for a second and rose above the buildings, her eyes on the monsters that continued to move deeper into Townsville. She looked out over the city, where her eyes passed over one green streak a few blocks away, and then further back where there were two blue and one red swirling around the giant monster that had taken Blossom and Buttercup down. As she watched, the massive beast drew its arm back and swiped, catching the red streak and practically whacking it across town. Brick crashed into the side of a building and suddenly the slew of monsters moving into the city changed direction.

 

Her eyes widened as Buttercup called, “Did you see that?”

 

“Yes,” Blossom breathed.

 

“What are they after?”

 

Blossom's gaze darted back to the monster that had struck him. It was now moving away from Bubbles and Boomer, only swiping at them when they became too much of a nuisance. Like the monsters below her and Buttercup, it too was moving in one direction, after...

 

“Brick,” she whispered, a sudden panic gripping her, and she felt herself moving, flying of her own accord as the sound of every snarling monster in Townsville filled her head.

 

“Brick!” she screamed back at Buttercup. “They're after Brick!”

 

***

 

Stars in his eyes, and not the good kind. Brick groaned and pushed himself up, his head ringing. As he stood, concrete rubble cascaded down the front of his ruined suit. The ground rumbled, its vibrations unsettling the debris at his feet. A shadow passed over the buildings.

 

Brick squared his shoulders and tensed, at the ready.

 

“Brick! Run!”

 

His head jerked to see Blossom go shooting overhead, just as the giant monster rounded the corner and dozens more of every size poured into the street. Blossom swooped down, eyebeams ablaze as she landed hard on the asphalt in front of Brick.

 

Brick took to the air and followed suit, blasting into the horde of monsters from above.

 

“Brick!” Blossom cried from below him. “Seriously, run! Head towards the coast!”

 

“The hell I am! I'm not running!”

 

“I'm not joking! They're after you!”

 

Something rammed into him, sending Brick skidding away as he fought it off. Something in his shoulder twinged when he hit the ground.

 

Conserve your X, he thought, but he was also very, very pissed.

 

He made short work of the two that were on him and ten more charged in to meet him. The pink blasts further down the street now had various blue and green ones accompanying them; he could see it just beyond the sudden influx of clawed fists and rows of teeth and, in one case, slimy, goopy, green... something.

 

Brick's eyes flashed red, and the beam that followed seared several of the monsters into ash and several others into halves. The green goop was the only thing he had missed, and it plowed into his face, cutting off his Cyclops beams and trying to force its way into his mouth. Brick was instantly overwhelmed by the taste of salted gasoline made gelatinous, and retched as he fumbled desperately for a hold on it. He managed to get a grip and ripped it out of his mouth, then blasted it into oblivion. Once it was gone he buckled to his knees and heaved, spitting over and over to try and get the disgusting taste out of his mouth.

 

“Brick!”

 

Blossom's voice again. Bubbles' might've been in there too, as well as Boomer's. He wasn't sure. The next thing he knew he'd been whacked by the giant monster yet again and the thing after that involved metal and his head and vague darkness with a hole of light in front of him and a bigger square-shaped hole of light to his right. He tried blinking himself into consciousness—but wait, he had to be conscious, or else he wouldn't be blinking...

 

Wake up, this voice in his head said, or was it His, or just his? Wake up, get up, keep fighting, move it you fucking idiot, don't let them take you down—

 

Okay, definitely his. As he wobbled unsteadily on his feet and blinked over and over again, another voice joined in and asked gently, Do you have a concussion?

 

He staggered to the smaller hole of light—he'd been knocked into the side of a deserted moving van and had destroyed a very nice-looking couch. It still looked soft, though, and maybe after this was all over he'd come back here and take a nap on that one cushion that was still intact...

 

He heard Bubbles' trademark scream in the distance, and even from here it felt like it was stinging his brain; he covered his head and crouched, trying to fight off what he knew was an impending migraine.

 

Suddenly the floor of the van tipped underneath him, and as he lost his balance and toppled, the universe exploded into a galaxy of scaled arms all working towards a single purpose—intensifying Brick’s headache.

 

He heard blasting and snarling followed by more blasting and what sounded like a few well-placed kicks, then a sudden release of pressure from his torso. Things were happening too fast for him to keep up, at least not visually, but he maintained the presence of mind to return the favor when a slim pair of arms encircled him and held him fast.

 

For the first time that evening he hit the ground gently. Those arms released him, and he automatically tightened his grip to keep her from leaving. His brain was still suffering the effects of one too many hits to the head, but this was a comfort; he wanted her arms here, to stay...

 

He forced his eyes open, just a sliver, as a hand drifted across his face and touched his hairline. She was blurry and out of focus. Fuck his vision. He had the sudden horrific thought that without Chemical X he might have to wear glasses.

 

“Brick,” Blossom said, and suddenly it was like someone had adjusted the focal distance of a camera. He blinked as he looked at her, his skin tingling where she touched it. A blinking neon sign flashed red, tinting her skin. “Are you okay?” Brick watched her lips form the words and tried to remember why he had not asked this girl to the dance.

 

A groaning noise from above them drew his attention, and he gasped her name as the neon sign that flickered behind her broke from its metal framing and plunged toward them. Blossom twisted to see, but he threw an arm around her, yanked her close, and then rolled on top of her as he blasted through the concrete.

 

Electric sparks fizzled behind them, the sound fading in the distance as they fell, and then they hit the floor of the underground and Brick blacked out.

 

***

 

The group was on the last of the monsters, mostly spreading out and seeking those they might have missed. Given his penchant for pugilism, Butch had gone off on his search with the primary objective being quantity, and had lucked out. The little herd of chest-high beasties that he'd discovered had a fondness for charging into a person's midsection at full speed with their very thick, very hard domed skulls, and kept him sufficiently entertained.

 

In all honesty it hadn't been much of a fight, but the last of them did manage to plow into him, making his lungs extremely unhappy, and as he blasted it away he had to take a knee.

 

A bellow rang out right behind him, and before he could react it slammed into him, connecting with his back. The sudden explosion of pain in his knee was overwhelming; that one point had taken the brunt of the blow and he torpidly registered a grinding noise.

 

The pain had barely sunk in before another roar echoed above him, and he suddenly snapped awake and raised himself up—one of his legs didn't move as quickly as it should have, but he didn't think about it. He just shot to his feet, his energy beams building, at the ready—

 

The monster struck again, its massive, sledgehammer-like appendages connecting with Butch's raised fists. On any other day his beams would've been strong enough to knock it back, but he'd been fighting too long tonight. His muscles were weak and his body felt tired and—as he was soon quite painfully reminded—his knee was seriously fucked up.

 

His bad leg buckled beneath him at the blow and he went down. The crunch his knee made seemed almost as loud as the scream that immediately tore its way out of his throat, and as Butch's knee ground grotesquely against the asphalt, the pain made itself known in every inch of his body, every anguished cry that was a gasp for breath, and he dropped to his other knee, his arms failing him, his sight failing him, everything was going black...

 

No, not black. Everything was going green. A blinding green light cut through the monster and split it into pieces, and then it was her figure in his field of vision, all he could see, all he could...

 

Butch's recognition of his own relief was barely present. His head swam as the whole length of the street, monster bits and all, stretched away from him into the distance—he saw it, there, the edges pulling taut—and then it was tilting on its axis, fast, as he fell to his side.

 

Hands, then—hands that had pummeled and blasted and destroyed things tonight, hands that were still steaming from the fresh kill, grasped him by the shoulders and stopped his fall.

 

Buttercup laid Butch down on the ground, face up, and asked frantically, “Butch, can you hear me?”

 

His eyes were already closing... he felt so sleepy, he hadn't even realized—

 

“Butch!” She shook his shoulders, then slapped her hand lightly against his cheek, and he blinked. “Butch!”

 

He saw a bump on her head—man, it was ugly, all huge and swollen—and slurred through a sticky, thick mouth, “Are you okay?”

 

“Of course I am, you dumbfuck,” she snapped, her face tight with worry. Her gaze flew to the mangled knee of his jeans and, after a second, she placed her hands on his thigh (which, funny thing, woke him up a bit). With a low, faint beam coming out of her eyes, she cut across the denim, then down the middle to open up his pants leg and get a better look.

 

After a moment, she muttered, “You're good at fucking up this knee.”

 

He laughed. “You mean good at fucking up.”

 

“Smug ass,” she said. “It looks like you dislocated a bone.”

 

He lifted his head. “Yeah, don't think I'm supposed to have two knees on one leg.”

“Saw it happen to a guy in football once,” she muttered, grimacing at the memory. “You tear, like, all your ligaments. Less of a problem with Chemical X, but it still won't heal correctly if you don't fix the dislocation.”

 

He groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Got a recommendation, doc?”

 

She rolled her eyes, and then her gaze drifted from his knee to his belt. She reached for the buckle.

 

“Whoa, hey.” Butch jerked back a bit and winced as the motion jostled his leg.

 

“Don't get any ideas.”

 

“Little late for that, you horny perv,” he sneered, earning a whack in the face.

 

When the last of the belt had slithered out of the loops, she folded it in half and brought it close to Butch's face.

 

“Open,” she ordered, nodding at his mouth, and placed the belt between his teeth. “Bite down.”

 

“Kinky,” he responded, but complied. Buttercup then nudged his good leg over, and Butch shifted uncomfortably as she took his thigh in one arm and his shin in the other. She smelled like sweat and monster guts, which sounded worse than it actually was. His hands clenched on the asphalt as he leaned back, his eyes on those versatile hands that had punched and blasted and slapped his cheek and taken off his belt, now resting against his leg.

 

“On three,” she said.

 

“On your mark,” he quipped, and she snorted.

 

“One,” she whispered, and then jerked.

 

Pain, suddenly, nothing but one blinding instant of terrible, terrible pain, and he gritted his teeth—so hard that they cut into the leather—and slammed his forehead into her back, biting back a scream. Maybe two.

 

“Oh, you bitch!” he seethed when he'd finally remembered how to speak. He blinked furiously, his eyes filling with tears. “Fuck! Fucking God damn ass hell motherfucker!”

 

She simply sat still, holding his leg in place while she waited for him to get the cussing and thrashing out of his system.

 

He spit the belt out. “I'm going to fucking kill you,” he whined as he started to settle down, the pain finally fading.

 

“Ha. I'd like to see you try.” She pulled away, and Butch felt a little sorry to lose the sensation of her body so close to his. She gently set his leg down, then sat cross-legged in front of him, picking up the belt and examining the bite mark now decorating it. After a pause, she, too, bit the leather.

 

“Weird ass,” Butch said.

 

Buttercup was busy examining the belt. “Look, man, your jaw's huge. My mark looks like a baby's compared to yours.”

 

She passed the belt to Butch, who glanced at it. He then lowered it to his crotch. “Yours looks about the right size to me—”

 

Her fist slammed into his messed up knee, and he howled in pain.

 

“You fucking piece of shit!” he hissed, his eyes tearing up.

 

“Like you didn't deserve that!”

 

“Fuck you,” he squeaked as his top half rocked back and forth.

 

“You wish,” she scoffed, and he glared at her.

 

They sat in silence, staring each other down as the throbbing in Butch's knee subsided. The screech of a flying monster in the distance caught their attention, and they both looked over to see a bright blue streak—Boomer—fly up and form a double-necked bass to whack it away.

 

“How Fooly Cooly of him,” Buttercup said.

 

“You nerd.”

 

“I dressed up like that kid for Halloween one year,” she said, and then jerked to. “Holy shit! Halloween! We got so wrapped up with pranks... we haven't even talked about costumes with the guys!”

 

“Dude, you're right. It's like—ugh.” Butch winced as his knee twinged from the healing process. “It's like next week!”

 

“Oh, man, I can't believe I forgot. There's, like, barely any time—”

 

“Well, what've you done before?”

 

Buttercup lifted her head, biting her lip in thought, and Butch stared at her mouth as she said, “I told you we did The Ring one year, yeah?”

 

He continued to stare, then blinked and said, “Uh, yeah.”

 

“And then there was the year we all went as employees from rival fast food joints...”

 

Butch laughed. “What?”

 

“It was awesome, we staged fights in the parking lots of all those restaurants,” she elaborated, grinning at the memory. “Um, we also did horror movie villains one year. Classic horror. Harry was Jason, the twins were the dudes from Clockwork Orange—I dunno their names, I haven't seen it—Mitch was a life-size Chucky, and that was fucking creepy, man. I ought to show you some pictures—”

 

“Who were you?” he interrupted, and Buttercup's eyes glittered as she smirked.

 

“Freddy fucking Krueger,” she laughed, mimicking the sound of a clacking claw as she raised her hand to her face.

 

“Niiiiice. Bet the kids went for that.”

 

“Oh my God, you've no idea. I stepped out of my house in broad daylight and kids started running around screaming. Parents wouldn't let me near their neighborhoods since none of the kids would go trick-or-treating if I was there. They weren't big fans of giant Chucky, either.”

 

Butch smirked. “Anybody try to throw you in the school furnace?”

 

“I'd like to see 'em try, on Freddy Krueger with superpowers,” Buttercup snickered. “I got Bubbles, too. After I got back home. She was already asleep. I just stood over her in the dark with my costume still on, and she woke up and freaked. Girl wouldn't sleep in the same room as me for a week.”

 

“A true work of art,” Butch said, inclining his head in deference.

 

Buttercup sighed. “I know.” A quiet moment passed before she said softly, “So we gotta come up with something good for this year.”

 

“Hey! You guys okay?”

 

Butch and Buttercup looked up to find Bubbles and Boomer floating down. They took in the sheared leg of Butch's jeans.

 

“Dude, what's wrong with your leg?” Boomer asked, kneeling down.

 

Butch pointed to his thigh with one hand and his shin with the other. “This part and this part went like this.” He jerked his arms in opposite directions, and Bubbles and Boomer winced.

 

“Yikes,” Boomer said.

 

“Gross,” Bubbles whimpered.

 

“We fixed the dislocation. It's just healing now,” Buttercup assured them. “Where's Team Red?”

 

Bubbles looked worried. “We haven't seen Brick and Blossom for awhile now. We thought you'd know where they went.”

 

“Didja get all the monsters?” Butch asked.

 

“As far as we can tell.” Boomer looked around, slight concern touching his features.

 

Butch sighed. “Quit crying. It's not like him to get lost. Besides, that fucker can take care of himself—”

 

A very faint, distant cry that could only be picked up by those with superhearing interrupted them, and they all whipped their heads in the direction it'd come from. Buttercup jumped to her feet.

 

Bubbles' eyes were wide with fear. “That sounded like—”

 

“Blossom!” cried an equally faint, distant Brick, and Buttercup swore, and Bubbles gasped, before both of them took off.

 

“Wait!” Boomer shouted as he took off after them.

 

“Oh, you fuckers,” Butch grumbled as he stood. “Leaving me here alo—agh, fuck,” he seethed, his bad leg twitching. It wasn't done healing; probably only about halfway. He bit his lip and held it stiffly away from him, trying not to move it around too much as he flew awkwardly after his brother and the girls.

 

“You guys all continue to suck!” Butch announced as he flew up. “You're the Hardcore Suck variety of people! All of you!”

 

“Shut up, gimp,” Buttercup ordered, and resumed working on the pile of rubble they were gathered around. It seemed to be supporting the building next to it, which was tilting at a very precarious angle.

 

“How do you know they're in there?”

 

“Here.” Boomer tossed him Brick's cap, covered in building dust. “Hedging our bets. Can't be far.”

 

Butch stared at the cap for a second, then crushed it into his back pocket. “Why don't you guys just blast it open?”

 

“We don't want the whole thing to cave in,” Bubbles said. Patiently, as if she was speaking to a small child. “There's that whole minimizing damage thing—”

 

“Oh, shit, we sucked at that tonight,” Boomer said.

 

Buttercup groaned as she jerked out a particularly stubborn piece of building, inspiring a low quaking and rumbling. The entire pile of debris started to shift, as did the building leaning on it.

 

She looked guiltily at the rest of the group. “Uh, oops—”

 

Suddenly the whole thing crumbled underneath them, and Buttercup, Boomer, and Bubbles all went toppling into the hole. The building that had been leaning on the pile began to follow after them, and Butch swore as he flew up under it and stopped its fall. His leg made it known that it was very, very unhappy at the sudden movement, and the pain in it started to grow as the X in his system was re-directed to help support the building...

 

The world started to darken around him, and Butch was worried he was passing out until he realized no, he was just fighting a building and the building was winning—the weight of it was forcing him down into the hole. He gritted his teeth and tried to push, but his knee protested—quite effectively—and he had to let it go. The building closed him into darkness; at the very least he'd managed to slow its descent enough so that it hadn't crumbled along with the pile.

 

He turned, and suddenly found himself sitting on a fence in broad daylight, Buttercup at his back.

 

He stared.

 

“What the f—”

 

***

 

Boomer blinked his eyes open and found himself underwater.

 

Oh, he thought. This again.

 

***

 

Brick stood at the edge of a swimming pool, not quite remembering how he'd gotten there. The underwater lights threw eerie blue tones against the stadium walls and the sterile smell of chlorine burned. He cleared his throat.

 

His gaze traversed the space, nerves on end. His vision told him he was alone, but he knew better.

 

Something was painted on one of the walls running the length of the pool, but he couldn't quite read it. He squinted, and, after a moment, walked to the opposite side of the stadium to face it. There, it finally came into focus.

 

THIS IS YOURS NOW, he read. He looked down.

 

Water overflowed from the pool onto the tile, up to the walls, and rushed up to meet him.

 

***

 

“Where did you come from?”

 

Bubbles and Buttercup sighed in relief at their sister's voice. Bubbles ran up to her and wrapped her in a hug.

 

“Oh, good,” Buttercup said. “You're okay. Where's Brick?”

 

“He was here a second ago.”

 

Bubbles looked around. “Where are all the boys, actually?”

 

“This looks familiar,” Blossom said, her eyes trained on the indeterminate shapes that made their non-environment. It was a mess of color and nonsensical geometry. There was no finite edge to the space, which looked to be inches from their faces at one moment and extending hundreds of feet away in the next. “Unfortunately.”

 

Buttercup's shoulders tensed. “Shit. He's here?”

 

“I don't think so,” Bubbles said, shaking her feet off as she stepped out of a puddle. “It feels very... I don't know. Something. But it isn't Him.”

 

Blossom, driven by the invisible hand of instinct, backed towards her sisters as their environment coalesced into a massive, pulsating swirl surrounding them. Half-formed silhouettes following the spiral track seemed to balloon out, then retreat. But maybe that was a trick of the eyes. She sensed Bubbles and Buttercup backing towards her as well, and within moments they had all met in the middle, back-to-back-to-back.

 

“Well, if Him's not around, what the hell are we here for?”

 

“Good question,” Blossom said.

 

“Lonely.”

 

Blossom turned her head towards Bubbles. “What's that?”

 

Bubbles' arms snaked through her sisters', hooking them and pulling them closer to her.

 

“That's what it feels like here,” she said, those big blue eyes wide and downcast. “It's so lonely.”

 

“Shut up,” Buttercup said, scoffing. But Blossom felt her squeeze back, all the same.

 

***

 

Brick needed air.

 

Well, everyone needed air. Everything needed air. But Brick needed it a great deal, in this moment, specifically.

 

Water crushed him in from all sides, and he fought against it, pushing his limbs through it to swim up.

 

What am I doing? he thought, and then, Being a fucking idiot.

 

He shot an eyebeam and it seared through the water, a white jet of bubbles steaming in its wake. But where he expected it to illuminate the stadium and cut through the nearest wall, it kept going, revealing nothing but the murky depths of the water. It disappeared all too quickly into a tiny pinprick of red, and then that was gone, too.

 

Brick needed air.

 

Well, he thought, and then, Fuck.

 

***

 

“Hey.”

 

She didn't respond. Butch watched the back of Buttercup's head for a second, then looked over her shoulder to try and see what held her attention.

 

***

 

Boomer looked up and saw her, just beyond the surface. When he opened his mouth and said her name, the water took it from him, muffling it before it could reach her.

 

Her figure was only a smear of color through the water, and he watched as it turned away.

 

Wait.

 

He kicked off the bottom and swam.

 

***

 

“Do you hear that?”

 

Blossom and Bubbles looked over their respective shoulders at Buttercup, arms still linked together.

 

They stood in silence for a second, straining to pick out a sound through the low hum permeating the air. Blossom looked over at Bubbles, who shook her head.

 

“Hear what?” Blossom asked.

 

Buttercup's head turned this way and that. Her grip on her sisters loosened.

 

***

 

Wait.

 

Boomer shot through the water, trying to reach her before she disappeared. His hands broke the surface, the air cold and almost painful against his skin, but he reached and closed them around her leg and he did not let go.

 

***

 

Brick could see the tell-tale reflections of light bouncing off the top of a body of water, and the pain in his lungs multiplied.

 

Almost there—

 

Something closed around his leg just before his hand could break the surface and dragged him back.

 

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

 

***

 

Butch watched, dumbfounded as Brick hoisted himself up onto the fence, facing Buttercup, and moved in to kiss her.

 

A possessive heat shot through his blood and he felt his heart go into overdrive, its pounding reverberating in his head.

 

***

 

“Am I crazy?” Buttercup asked, her voice going a little frantic. That sound was deafening. “Why can't you hear that?”

 

***

 

Brick only saw darkness when he looked down to try and identify his attacker, but quickly realized there were more pressing issues at hand. Air first. Then he would reach back in and tear the fucker limb from limb.

 

He kicked against the unseen assailant and managed to pull away, his hand breaking the surface. It brushed something, and he grabbed onto it, a literal lifeline.

 

***

 

He didn't kiss her, though. Butch's anger gave way to confusion as Brick moved through Buttercup, his face, his head, his body passing through her as if she were nothing but a ghost. He pulled close to Butch and Butch instantly pulled back.

 

His leader lifted a hand and pushed it into Butch's chest, like there wasn't skin there, like there wasn't a sternum or a ribcage or shit like muscle and tissue in the way.

 

He didn't feel anything. Then—

 

***

 

Brick grabbed onto it and pulled.

 

***

 

Butch jerked back, biting down a scream. His hands flew to Brick's wrist, slick with the blood that was suddenly gushing out of his chest, and then he overbalanced and toppled backwards. Everything stretched away from him into the distance, his world pulling taut at the edges as it tipped on its axis and he fell.

 

Déjà vu, he thought, and waited for Buttercup to catch him.

 

But then the pain seared down his torso, to his belly, and he snapped to and grabbed onto Brick's arm with what little strength he could muster. Though Butch was falling, or had been falling, or was maybe about to fall, who-the-fuck-knew, Brick's hand had not budged; as Butch's body had pulled downwards, away from his brother, the hand in his chest moved, splitting a bloody line down his torso until Butch had grabbed on and stopped it himself.

 

He dangled upside down in the darkness, uncomprehending. The blood in his head was pounding while the rest of it just seemed to be pouring down his face.

 

Dimly, past the throbbing in his brain that, along with his consciousness, was ebbing by the second, he thought he heard the words “Get up.”

 

At first he thought Brick had said them. But when he played it back in his head, he thought it might have been Buttercup, and the very idea wrenched him. He couldn't see, everything was dark. He didn't even have the energy to lift his head and look Brick in the eye.

 

Then again, maybe the voice had been Butch himself.

 

He thought he would test this theory, and opened his mouth, trying to form the words.

 

Instead, he screamed.

 

***

 

The girls jumped.

 

Bubbles said, “That sounded like—”

 

Buttercup tore away from her sisters and shot off into the unknown, shouting Butch's name.

 

***

 

Brick hit the cold surface hard, water pouring out of his throat as he coughed, trying to breathe. Whatever had grabbed him was still clinging to his legs, and he let go of whatever he had used to pull himself out to give himself more leverage to kick it away. He kicked once, then paused when he saw what—or who—it was.

 

He tried to say Boomer's name, but all that came out of him was more coughing. Boomer was slowly coming to, his death-grip on Brick's leg nearly cutting off its circulation.

 

What the...

 

Brick watched a dazed Boomer's chest rise and fall normally, unlabored despite having come out of the water too. He coughed again and pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes, then froze at the smell on his hand.

 

Smelled like metal. But metal didn't have a smell; that was a myth. Which meant...

 

He pulled his hand away and stared at it. The blood ran down his arm, thinning into a vague pink as it mixed with the water. He turned his hand over and over again, looking for a cut. Nothing.

 

Whose blood is this?

 

Deep dread welled in the pit of his stomach.

 

He looked down. Somewhere behind him, he heard a popping sound.

 

***

 

“Butch!” Buttercup shouted, her sisters' voices echoing her own. The endless landscape rushed past them for what must have been miles, but now Buttercup saw it all resolving into one dark, purposeful point on the horizon. She surged forward, rushing to meet it, but then she felt the wind change direction and she gasped, coming to a halt in front of a spiral that twisted and sucked the entirety of their surroundings into itself.

 

She landed hard on whatever passed for the ground in this place and braced her legs against the pull. Blossom had been flying too close to her, and at the abrupt stop their shoulders collided, throwing off Blossom's momentum, and she tumbled past Buttercup before she had a chance to steady herself.

 

Buttercup grabbed her sister's arm, her feet lifting off the ground, then felt Bubbles' arms fly around her waist, anchoring them both.

 

“Fly!” Buttercup shouted at them, and they fought against the current that sucked them forward. The pinprick of darkness swirling at the spiral's epicenter beckoned to her, and she shut her eyes against it and pulled.

 

That idiot better not fucking be in there, she thought.

 

A sudden pop, and the three of them pitched backwards, yelping as they hit the ground.

 

“Ugh, my head,” Blossom muttered.

 

“Ow, my boobs,” Bubbles squeaked. “Buttercup, please move your elbow.”

 

“Sorry.” Buttercup lifted straight off, careful not to put any weight on Bubbles, who'd been kind enough to break her fall. She blinked, a little dazed, then remembered who they'd been looking for.

 

“Butch!” she shouted, scanning the area.

 

A familiar line of buildings edged into the sky, visible above the dark pit they were now in, and the moon greeted them, hovering just behind the flag that billowed atop the dome of Townsville Hall. Normalcy. No chaos, no wind, no swirl, no literal vanishing point that sucked everything around it into nothingness. Instead, her eyes fell on... on...

 

Everything stretched away from her into the distance. The world pulled taut at the edges as it tipped on its axis.

 

“Bubbles?”

 

Buttercup heard Bubbles shift behind her. When her sister said, “Boomer?” she sounded very far away.

 

Every vein in her body seemed to be pulsating and it felt like the blood was all rushing to her throat. She couldn't tell at this distance. She couldn't tell what was shadow and what was deep red, what was moonlight and what was bone. He was just laying there. She had to get closer to tell, but her legs, her legs...

 

There was motion and sound behind her—urgent, purposeful. Her sisters rushed past her on either side, towards the boys. Buttercup's blood was screaming as it coursed through her.

 

Quicker, faster.

 

Move.

 

There was a flash of blue as Bubbles took off, sailing out of the pit. Blossom was urging Boomer to shuck his jacket, then pulled a motionless Brick aside, away from the rest of them. The shadow he threw on Butch shifted, and the moon, already casting an eerie pallor over them all, illuminated him. Deep red and bright white in the moonlight. Her breath left her.

 

Move!

 

Her legs, her useless fucking legs finally followed orders. She stepped forward and the world wobbled in slow motion around her, but she pressed on, one foot in front of the other, and the entire way she couldn't help but think about how they'd just been talking, just this night, about the same stupid shit, and doing the same stupid stuff they always did, but now if she said his name...

 

One foot in front of the other, until she stood over him.

 

Butch.

 

She felt her mouth form the word, but heard nothing.

 

Her knees hit the ground and the pool of blood that circled him seeped into her jeans as she fumbled for his face. She didn't know what to do about the gaping cavity in his abdomen, that giant wound that pulled open and looked liked something out of a horror movie, a thing she couldn't bear to look at.

 

Butch, she mouthed, or maybe said. She tried to wipe the blood away from his face but only succeeded in smearing it, his half-lidded expression a catalyst that sent her spiraling.

 

Butch. Butch. Butch.

 

Was he breathing? How could she tell? She could barely feel anything, much less a puff of warm air past his slack mouth. Everything felt cold and wet, or seemed cold and wet, and the blood inside her was pounding, pumping, screaming—

 

“Buttercup! Calm down!”

 

I should've told him to stay put. The fucking idiot. I should've told him not to budge—

 

“Buttercup!”

 

I'm an idiot. I can't believe I was so stupid. Stupid.

 

“Buttercup!”

 

I should've told him. Fucking idiot.

 

***

 

The second Butch's eyes fluttered open, Buttercup was at his side, biting back a string of apologies. The Professor had told her to give him time when he woke up. She watched as those dark green eyes—the pupils slightly dilated—drifted slowly around the lab, finally taking in the cot he was lying on before looking at her.

 

Buttercup bit her lip and managed a thin smile. “Hi.”

 

He twitched the corners of his own lips back. “Hi.”

 

She swallowed, trying not to dwell on how faint his voice sounded. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like a puny normal human.” His eyes flicked back around the room, a little quicker now. “Where the fuck am I?”

 

“Our place. I mean, mine. This is the Professor's lab.” Buttercup glanced at his hand, limp against the cot bed.

 

“What am I doing here?”

 

“You don't remember?”

 

Butch stared at her for a long time, his brow furrowed, then finally shook his head. “No.”

 

A long silence passed. Buttercup looked away from his eyes, still staring, and back at his hand on the bed. It twitched, then attempted to reach for her. The movement was weak, though, and his hand shook a little, so he dropped it where it was.

 

“Jesus, what the fuck happened?” he asked. “You look... you look really sad.”

 

She forced a laugh and swept her hair out of her face. “Augh. I just... um...”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Um...” Buttercup swallowed. “Well. We. Um. We don't know what happened. We weren't all together. But... when we found you, you'd been... cut open.”

 

His eyes widened slightly. “Big cut? Bad cut?”

 

“Y-yeah.” Her vision clouded and she blinked furiously until it cleared again, hoping he hadn't noticed.

 

“Where? Can I see?”

 

She almost laughed at his vague enthusiasm. She helped ease the back of the bed up slightly so he could see, and then lifted his shirt.

 

“Oh, hey, I didn't even notice this wasn't mine,” he said, stretching the fabric out to get a better look at it.

 

“Yeah, your other one...” Buttercup trailed off and didn't finish. His blood-drenched shreds of a shirt were in a bag in the corner, and she would've burned them if there hadn't been a part of her that thought Butch might want to keep them.

 

Butch paused when he saw his stomach and lower chest. “Holy shit.”

 

Buttercup sucked her lips in between her teeth and bit hard to keep them from trembling. Butch's hands skimmed along the pink line. Pink, where only a few hours ago it'd been a deep, gut-wrenching red. Buttercup blinked the image in her head away and cleared her throat, reaching a hand to touch the top of the scar. He paused.

 

“Here to here,” she said quietly, moving her hand from top to bottom. “I mean, I guess you can see it.”

 

“Who worked on me? Your dad?”

 

“Not—well, kind of. We have this doctor we call for when things get bad. The Professor was here to monitor the levels of X in your system while they were... you know, operating. That's why you're here.”

 

“I kinda remember stuff,” he said. “Now. I mean, not getting stitched up, obviously. But I kinda remember it hurting. A lot, actually. Wait, did I scream like a pussy?”

 

She shut her eyes, her throat raw. “No.”

 

“No, I remember screaming. Shit, I totally did. Oh, man, what'll that do to my—Buttercup? Hey. Hey!”

 

Buttercup's eyes flew open to find her vision completely warped.

 

“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, her breath hitching as she inhaled. She felt Butch's hand at her arm and pulled away, flying behind the cot to the Professor's desk.

 

“Buttercup!”

 

She fumbled for a box of tissues and scrubbed the tears away, sniffling. The memories were overtaking her senses now; she could still hear his scream, still feel his body cold in her shaking arms—

 

“What are you doing?” The cot groaned as Butch tried to twist around to see, and then he cursed under his breath.

 

“Oh my God, stop moving, dumbass! You're really hurt!”

 

“Then quit hiding!”

 

“I'm not hiding!”

 

“I'm laying here dying on a table—”

 

“You're not dying!”

 

“—which means you're obligated to do what I say and I say get your ass back over here or I promise you I am going to die on this table. I will do it. I will die so hard.”

 

The last wave of tears was subsiding. She deepened her breathing, trying not to squeak or hiccup when her breath caught.

 

Finally, she said, “That's a cot, not a table.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“And you can't make yourself die by sheer force of will.”

 

“Get over here and watch me.”

 

She sighed and walked back to his side, rubbing at her eyes one last time for good measure. She tried to glare at him, and he was obviously trying to glare at her, but neither of their eyes held an ounce of anger in them. Buttercup humored him for a second or two while he stared intently into the distance.

 

“Yeah. That's some pretty hardcore dying you're doing there.”

 

“Ha. Oh, ugh,” he suddenly groaned, passing a hand over his bare stomach. “Something doesn't feel right in there.”

 

“You mean you need to use the bathroom?”

 

“I mean I feel like an organ's out of place.”

 

“Serves you right, twisting around like that.”

 

“You ran back there where I couldn't see you. It's your fault.”

 

She stared at him and the scar on his midsection. She then tugged his shirt back down over his skin and said, “I know. I'm sorry.”

 

One of her hands alighted gingerly on his stomach, inspiring a sharp intake of breath from him. She jerked it away.

 

“Oh shit, did that hurt? I'm sorry.”

 

“No, it...” Butch's arm flopped uselessly at her. “It didn't hurt. Just...” His arm stopped flopping, and he sighed. “Fuck, I'm tired.”

 

Buttercup eased the cot back down. “Go to sleep.”

 

“Have you been here? The whole time?”

 

“My dad wouldn't let me stay while they were... checking to make sure everything was there and sewing you up. He let me back in afterward.”

 

“But after that?”

 

“Yeah.” She traced the edge of the cot with her hand, reluctant to leave. His own hand suddenly wandered over and touched her wrist, and she halted.

 

“Does your dad keep security cameras in the lab?”

 

She looked around. “None that I know about.”

 

He exhaled in relief. “Come... come here.” He started to move over, struggling a bit, and Buttercup gaped at him.

 

“What the fuck are you doing?”

 

“Making space,” he groaned.

 

“You're shitting me. No.” She started to tug her hand away.

 

“I don't want you to leave yet,” he said. “And you're not gonna sleep in that chair very comfortably, so... shut the fuck up and come here.”

 

Her skin was buzzing where he was touching her. She relented.

 

“Don't get fresh with me,” she warned, floating up so she could ease herself next to him.

 

He gave her a look. “Moving over just now felt like fighting a fucking bear. Do you seriously think I'm going to try anything?”

 

She didn't say anything. As soon as she was lying next to him, though, he gestured wildly at her chest and said, “Oh my God! Boobs!”

 

A second later he was moaning, “Owwwww,” and rubbing at his freshly smacked face. “See, that's the other thing,” he explained. “Like you wouldn't be able to fuck me up if I tried something while I'm like this.”

 

She scoffed. “Like I wouldn't be able to fuck you up on any given day of the week.” The cot was small and their sides were almost completely touching. Her cheek pressed against his shoulder, and she spit her hair out of her face.

 

“You bitch, don't spit on me.”

 

“It's not you. It's my hair.”

 

He reached over and pushed it out of her face. She tensed as his hand brushed against her temple.

 

“Better?”

 

She wasn't sure. “Yeah.”

 

“You know it ain't your fault what happened to me.”

 

She shifted uncomfortably. “It was a little.”

 

“Don't be a dumbfuck.”

 

“I should've told you to stay put.”

 

“If you'd said that and expected me to listen to you, then you would've been a serious dumbfuck.”

 

She laughed weakly. “I guess you have a point.”

 

“There's a penis joke in there somewhere.”

 

“Don't push it.”

 

“There, too.”

 

“Butch.”

 

“Sorry.” His cheek was in her hair, a little. He turned his head into it and she let him stay there for a bit. The back of her hand touched his. His breathing was slowing, and her own eyes were heavy-lidded, and after the night they'd had even the thin, too-small cot felt easy to fall asleep in.

 

“Butch,” she whispered, stifling a yawn.

 

“Hm,” he grunted.

 

Her hand brushed against his. “I'm really glad you're okay.”

 

Suddenly his arm wove clumsily around hers, and then he took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently.

 

“Me too,” he murmured, and even though her skin went clammy where it touched his she didn't pull away from him.

 

“By the way, that thing that happened earlier didn't happen.”

 

“What thing? That you crying thing?”

 

“Didn't happen.”

 

“I don't even know what you're talking about,” he sighed, a slight grin pulling onto his face.

 

She smiled and closed her eyes.

 

***

 

Blossom awoke when the morning was still dim and gray after a fitful sleep. After a few minutes of trying to get back to it, she gave up and rose reluctantly out of bed. The clock said it was only a little past six.

 

She floated to her dresser, shivering a bit as she dug for a sweatshirt to pull over herself. She did not appreciate having to plow through several layers of Bubbles' clothes just to get to her stuff. Bubbles was going to get a stern talking to later. This wasn't even her dresser.

 

The drawer threatened to slam as she pushed it back; she caught it and gently eased it back into the dresser frame. As she did so she glanced over at the vanity, pausing when she saw her tousled hair and dark-ringed eyes. It wasn't her best, but still an improvement over the image she'd seen last night.

 

The quiet creak of the front door drew her attention, followed by steps outside, and she flew to the window just in time to see Butch taking off. He was up and walking. Good. Leaving, though? Before the rest of the house had woken up? He should've stayed to let the Professor check in on him.

 

It occurred to Blossom that that very thought might have indeed crossed Butch's mind and inspired him to leave in the first place.

 

She glanced at Buttercup's bed. Empty. She hadn't even noticed. She dashed downstairs, adjusting the thermostat as she did so—seriously, it was like the Professor was storing meat in the living room or something—and then to the lab, where she peeked in and found Buttercup curled up on the cot.

 

After a brief mental struggle with the alarms going off in her head, Blossom decided not to dwell on it and continued about her morning routine.

 

***

 

“Don't pretend like you've never wanted to do it.”

 

Brick stalked to the end of the bed he'd awoken in and snatched at his hospital charts. He was too angry for the data to make any sense to him, so he tossed them back.

 

An ill-subdued, sinister laugh punctuated Him's statement. Brick continued to ignore Him as he searched for his hat.

 

“Here.” Him suddenly presented it, dangling from a claw. Brick stared at it a moment before grabbing it and fitting it roughly onto his head.

 

“Careful. You suffered a concussion, after all.”

 

Still Brick did not look at Him. Instead he turned his eyes to the slim window of his hospital room to check if anyone was coming, then zipped to the window that looked out into the world. Dim, pre-dawn light cast an eerie, almost dead glow over the city.

 

“I mean, you consider yourself sooo much better than the average human being. And sure, you fly, you've superstrength, you can get all blasty...” Him sighed as Brick slid the window open, letting in the cold morning chill. “But mentally, you've still got a ways to go.”

 

Brick flew out. It was chilly, and he wasn't wearing much—just his Homecoming tux, without the jacket—but the silence was bliss.

 

Him floated up beside him, making short work of the brief peace Brick had found. “Someone who's really striving to be better than your average human being needs to be strong of mind, not just of body.” The way it was coming out of Him's mouth sounded less like advice and more like a taunt. “He never really listens to you, anyway. He always has it coming, doesn't he? You always need to whip him into shape. Teach him a lesson.”

 

Roughing him up is not the same as attempting to disembowel him, Brick thought, but Him's words troubled him nonetheless.

 

“Eventually he'll need to be made an example of. Possibly. Better that he finds out from you, rather than at someone else's hand, right?”

 

Brick's patience for the silent treatment never lasted long. “So this was supposed to be a life lesson? Are you actually parenting now?”

 

“No need to get nasty. You were the one who fell into a vortex.”

 

“I—” Brick stopped, and, against his better judgment, reacted. “'A vortex?' You put a vortex there to teach me a lesson?!”

 

“Not to teach a lesson,” Him corrected. “It's been there for years. I got bored. Eternity is boring, Brick. How was I to anticipate you'd fall in?”

 

Brick scoffed in disgust. “No wonder we're so fucked up.”

 

“I said there's no need to get nasty, Brick.”

 

“Leave. It isn't enough to ruin my evening with your stupid vortex and that dumb slew of monsters, now you—”

 

“I am not responsible for that pitiful excuse of a rampaging monster horde!” Him snarled, then settled back into His lilting speech pattern. “I'm almost insulted. Surely you think me more creative than that?”

 

“This, from the vortex guy.”

 

A claw snapped around his wrist and Him jerked Brick around.

 

“Hey!”

 

Even as Brick struggled Him snipped off the button at the wrist of his tuxedo shirt without the slightest effort, then held it close to Brick's face.

 

Not just a button. A tiny... chip, a device of some sort, with a small crack running down the middle. Brick stopped struggling.

 

“Why don't you go have a chat with your rich, older woman?” Him seethed, bringing Brick's arm down so he could mash the button into his hand. “Let's give credit where credit's due.”

 

Brick stared at the thing in his hand, his brow furrowed. When he looked up again, Him was gone. Of course. He dashed back home, letting himself in through the window to his room. He didn't remember how well he'd slept at the hospital, but it couldn't have been very well at all, considering how much the mere sight of his bed made him want to curl under the sheets and nap forever. He placed the button gingerly on his desk, then started to strip down, pausing when his gaze hit the rust-colored stains on his sleeve. With a grimace, he threw it into the trash.

 

He heard the front door open and went to investigate. Boomer was asleep on the couch in the living room, while a shadow spilled across the open door of the bathroom he shared with Butch. Brick flew up, pausing in the doorframe. Butch had taken off his shirt and was staring at his reflection as he traced the barely visible lines of pink on his skin. He spied his brother in the mirror and turned.

 

“Hey.”

 

It shouldn't have felt weird to see him up and walking about, but Brick felt weird nonetheless. The last time he'd seen his brother, Butch had been closer to a corpse than a living thing. And the one to blame was...

 

Butch nodded at the couch. “He been there the whole night?”

 

Brick looked back at Boomer. “I dunno. I guess. I was at the hospital.”

 

Butch snorted and turned back to the mirror, examining his soon-to-be-gone scars. “Is that right? What was wrong with you?”

 

“A... concussion.” It sounded like a pitiful excuse to be in the hospital, considering the guy he was saying it to had been all but torn apart.

 

“You okay?” Brick couldn't tell from Butch's tone whether he was asking out of genuine concern or challenging Brick's injury to top his.

 

“Me? How about you?”

 

Butch snickered and glanced at his brother in the mirror. “Walkin', aren't I?”

 

“Where were you at?”

 

“You didn't hear what happened?”

 

“I know what happened, I—” Brick paused, dimly recalling something Blossom had said last night. “The girls' place, yeah?”

 

Butch gave a low whistle, and Boomer stirred, but didn't wake. “Recovering in style. We all slept in one bed. They wanted to take care of me. They also wanted to 'take care' of me, if you know what I mean, but I said, 'Girls, please! I'm injured. You won't enjoy it, and your pleasure matters as much to me as mine does!' So we took a raincheck on the orgy and just cuddled.”

 

Brick gave him a dry look.

 

“Seriously, I have it all in writing. It's a contractual obligation.”

 

“Hey, Butch.”

 

“What?”

 

The scars were barely there, but they were a vivid red in Brick's mind. He could almost remember it as if he'd actually known, could almost recall the warm, wet sensation of Butch's insides against his hand. If he thought too much about it...

 

Now Butch turned, confused at Brick's lack of a response. “What's up?”

 

He was an idiot. He didn't listen. He disobeyed orders. But he didn't deserve... Brick wanted to tell him Sorry, even though he hadn't known. He couldn't have.

 

“It was a vortex.”

 

Butch blinked. “Oh. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. I guess Him put it there awhile ago.”

 

“No wonder. You never did too good with those.”

 

Brick grimaced. “Thanks for the reminder.”

 

Butch turned back to the mirror. “A vortex, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Butch stared at his reflection and at nothing all at once. “Huh.”

 

***

 

By the time Blossom had showered and changed, the Professor was up and moving. When Blossom saw his tired face in the hall he yawned and told her he couldn't sleep.

 

“Want to check on the patient, too,” he said.

 

“He's left,” Blossom told him, in an effort to keep him from discovering Buttercup there. It was too early for her to deal with a surly Professor. “You did great.”

 

It had been the hardest sort of pseudo-surgery the Professor had done before. Of course, he'd only been there to assist the real surgeon, and maintain the necessary level of X in Butch's system, but bodies weren't exactly his thing. And knowing that something that had happened to Butch—another superbeing—could've just as easily happened to any one of his girls...

 

Blossom gave him an extra hard hug and kissed him on the cheek for good measure.

 

The house began the slow process of sputtering into life. The Professor got some breakfast going, and eventually Bubbles floated down in her pajamas to help. Blossom tried to call the hospital Brick had been taken to to check up on him, but the nurse who answered told her his room was empty. She resisted the urge to ask for the boys' number from Bubbles and instead turned on the TV to see if the local news was reporting on what had transpired in Townsville last night.

 

The door to the lab creaked open, and Buttercup wobbled into the living room, digging the crust out of her eyes. She looked around, then focused on Blossom.

 

“Is Butch here?” she said through her yawn.

 

Blossom shook her head.

 

Buttercup grunted something, then continued her wobble into the kitchen.

 

“The suspect is an unusual one: an as-of-yet unidentified elderly woman, who just earlier this month was masquerading as a nurse at Citysville Medical—”

 

The doorbell buzzed, and Blossom set down the remote and dashed to the door.

 

“... The most recent disappearance that fits the pattern is unusual only in that the boy whom police suspect to be her next victim is a resident of Townsville—”

 

Blossom furrowed her brow and glanced back—Bubbles was peeking out of the kitchen at the TV, spatula in hand—and opened the front door.

 

“What—Robin?” Blossom cried, shocked at the sight of her friend on their doorstep, still wearing her Homecoming dress. Robin's eyes were puffy and red.

 

“Blossom,” she said in relief, cracking a trembly smile. “I don't know what to do, his parents are out of town and the police haven't found anything—”

 

“Oh my God,” Bubbles gasped, and the girls turned to look at her. Buttercup and the Professor had joined her in the living room. Just between them, Blossom could see a familiar boy's image on screen.

 

“Mike never showed up last night,” Robin said as Bubbles' spatula dripped pancake batter onto the carpet.

 

-end Ch. 10-