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In the spirit of the season...
I've mentioned in the past that the Citysville chapter (aka ch10a or the Halloween chapter) underwent a massive rewrite 6 years after my initial draft of it was completed over 10 years ago now (10 years ooooooooooooold) because it was ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE. A whole written chapter, 46 pages, into the trash!
Parts of it aren't bad, though I am glad I rewrote it - tonally it doesn't fit, and reading it over I still make faces at how serious and un-fun the whole vibe is. I was kind of trying for too many things here, plus I committed the cardinal sin of letting the boys being the smartest ones in the room. My gravest error, and the thing that sticks out the most to me when I read this over.
Setup: they've tracked down Mike to a creepy abandoned hospital. The Blues are hanging outside with Prof U while the Reds and Greens go in to investigate. A couple of canonically dumpster fire boys being too smart and a couple of canonically cool & powerful girls being too damesel-y. I atone for these transgressions daily. Enjoy my sins.
***
The higher up they went the less property damage there was. While taggers had clearly left their signatures in the stairwell, the third floor could almost pass for usable, save for the peeling paint and dust. The moon was a little higher now, high enough for light to pass through and reveal speckles of little floating dust particles in the air.
This, combined with the diminishing odor of mold and rotten fluids that had pervaded the first floor, seemed to relax Blossom a great deal, and she stepped ahead of Butch without waiting for him to light the way. The flashlight wasn't necessary at this point.
“Looks like this was the recovery wing,” she whispered, peering into the rooms. Most of them had been gutted of their equipment, though beds remained in a few of them. Brick looked into a couple and then decisively avoided looking in further. At least the first floor looked like it had gone through years of abandonment and the subsequent abuse associated with it. This floor was worse to him. It gave the impression that everyone who'd previously occupied it had simply disappeared into the ether. And while this floor didn't have the rank smell of the first, there was something else about it. Something oddly familiar that made the hairs on Brick's neck stand on end.
Butch sensed it, too. “Smells weird up here.”
“Better than down there,” Buttercup said.
Butch pocked the flashlight, looking around distractedly. “Yeah,” he finally said, though his tone didn't sound very convinced.
Brick's eyes were on Blossom as she led the way, tiptoeing down the hall and occasionally peering into a room via the slim window in the door.
“What are you looking for?” he finally whispered, when they were nearly halfway down the hall.
“Whoever's footsteps we heard,” she whispered back.
“I think I know this smell,” Buttercup abruptly said, her brow knit in concentration. “Weird.”
“I told you,” Butch said.
“As long as we're not inhaling black mold spores, I'd say it's an improvement,” Blossom murmured.
No, Brick thought tensely, suddenly noticing how much stronger the scent was now. No, this is not an improvement. Why couldn't he place it?
“I've smelled this before,” Buttercup said again. “Like... it smells like I've tasted it, too.”
Butch stifled a laugh. “Oh, that's too easy. You can't say stuff like that, I'll just—”
He cut off mid-sentence, and Buttercup looked at him, her expression bored.
“You'll just what?”
She didn't quite catch it. Brick was behind him and had fought with him enough times in all their years together to notice the slight tensing in his posture, the almost undetectable clench of his jaw.
Butch grunted something, and Buttercup shrugged, turning around again to follow her sister. “Uh-huh.”
With her moving away, Butch swiveled his head to meet Brick's gaze. His expression was grim, and the intense green of his eyes seemed to will a message to his leader. It hit Brick like a fucking freight train.
Blood. That was it. That was the smell.
They both looked to the girls instantly, moving unawares down the hall. Buttercup was more visibly tense than her sister; no doubt there was an unconscious recognition that was setting her nerves on edge.
Butch began to move after them, his hand moving to his pocket where—Brick knew—a hidden seam concealed an emergency weapon. Brick caught up to him before he could get much further, reminded of his own empty hands.
“What do you have on you?” he whispered. “I left mine with Boomer.”
Butch's eyes flitted to the girls, then reached into his other pocket for the knife's mate and slipped it into Brick's sleeve.
“That's it. I'm tapped out,” he murmured. “Would've brought something with a trigger to pull if I'd known we'd be getting into this shit.”
“This one of your 42s?” Brick asked, flicking his wrist to mime the action of opening it. It'd been awhile since he'd handled a butterfly; he wanted to make sure he had the muscle memory for it down.
Butch nodded curtly, then moved to re-join the girls. He edged ahead of them, while Brick hung at the back, darting a glance over his shoulder every now and again in between looking into each room.
Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. One after another.
The change in atmosphere, and Butch's attitude especially, did not go unnoticed.
“What's got you so riled up?” Blossom asked an uncharacteristically solemn Butch.
“I thought I heard something,” he automatically responded.
Blossom looked back at Brick, who was glancing over his shoulder again. “You too, Brick?”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, his eyes catching on something amiss on the floor. He looked away from it, and as soon as Blossom was once again facing forward, he knelt to examine the tiles. Something funny about them.
“Anybody else smell Pine-Sol now?” Buttercup whispered.
They're clean. But why would this part of the floor be clean, and the rest...
He let his gaze drift up and it hesitated on the wall. There were some faint bloodstains that had been smeared in the scrubbing attempt, but he could still make out the initial outlines. Projected bloodstains, no less. Whoever it was had been hit by something, like a two-by-four.
This was looking grimmer by the minute. They had to get the girls out of here.
“We've got to go,” he said as he stood. Once again the girls looked at him. Butch was already at the end of the hall, where it veered off to the left. His attention was held by something down that way, and he didn't acknowledge his brother.
“Now,” Brick added, voice low and threatening. They were going to listen to him at this crucial moment, at least, for fuck's sake—
“Yeah.” Butch surprised the girls by acquiescing. He looked away from the hall, back to the group. “Yeah. We should go.”
Blossom mouthed helplessly before managing, “What? We—we haven't even gone down this other way—”
“There's nothing there,” Butch muttered, grabbing both her and Buttercup by the arm and dragging them back to Brick.
“Hey!” Buttercup hissed, struggling as quietly as she could.
“How do you know?” Blossom demanded. “You didn't even go down—”
“I'm telling you, there's nothing—”
A sudden thump from that very end of the hall interrupted him, and everybody halted. After a moment's hesitation, Blossom socked Butch as hard as she could in the gut, causing him to let go, and she moved back towards that left hall.
Brick raced to get in front of her, practically skidding to a stop as he threw an arm across her path, his eyes burning into hers.
She glowered back. “What? What are you two hiding?”
“I swear to God, I will drag you kicking and screaming out of here if I have to,” he said, his voice chilling the air. “We are leaving.”
“Why?”
He was ready to tear her head off. She was being so fucking difficult! A snarl was already building up in the back of his throat when it suddenly occurred to him that he was going about this all the wrong way. If he got nasty with her, she'd just get nasty back. So...
He hoped enough of his anger had drained from his expression before he said, “Because I'm afraid of you getting hurt.”
The sudden softening of her expression was remarkable. But she shook her head, blinking. Still resisting.
“I... I'm not going to—”
“We don't have any powers right now,” he went on. “We're not as strong as we should be. We're vulnerable. And if something happens to you...” He paused here for effect, made a calculated swallow, and let it hang there.
She was staring at him, transfixed, but as soon as he finished her eyes still darted over his shoulder. Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine. If that didn't do it, this would.
He dropped his arm and started backing away, towards the left hall. “Let me. I'll check. Okay?”
She followed him a few steps. “Thank you.”
Ignoring the smallness of her voice and how small she herself looked in that filtered moonlight, he turned and looked down the hall to see what had so commanded Butch's attention. A quick scan from where he stood only came up empty, at least visually. Then he realized that the smell of blood had suddenly gotten much stronger. Pine-Sol was doing little to mask it, which meant...
He looked back at his brother, who was standing where Blossom had broken free, about a third of the way back down the main hall. He still gripped Buttercup by the elbow. Blossom herself was staring expectantly at Brick. He let his gaze linger on her, then looked purposefully back towards whatever it was that had made that sound.
The room where it was coming from was at the very end, and the door was only just ajar; standing at the other end he couldn't even tell it was open. Brick stared at the slim opening. Unlike the other rooms, this one was pitch black inside. He wondered what had happened to the windows.
I don't like this.
“Brick.” Blossom appeared at the corner. “Can you see what's in there?”
He lifted a hand and gently pushed the handle. The crack widened. Just enough. The smell of blood intensified, overtook all his other senses, and he stared.
Blossom took another step. “Brick?”
Brick grabbed the handle and yanked the door shut, stalking back and grabbing Blossom along the way.
“It's empty,” he said roughly, forgoing all former pretense of affectionate concern.
“You didn't even go inside—wait a second, would you?!” She braced her weight against the floor, causing him to practically drag her after him. “We all heard it, and you didn't even—”
He whirled on her and said firmly, “It's empty, Blossom.”
“Brick, let go!”
“What is with you guys?!” Buttercup cried.
“Keep your voices down!” Brick made a threatening motion across his neck. “Come on, Blossom—”
“Not until you tell me what's going on!”
A sudden nearby clattering noise interrupted them, originating from one of the rooms in the main hall right next to Buttercup. She wrenched her arm free from Butch and threw open the door.
“Buttercup!” Brick shouted, as they all bolted after her.
***
keep your eyes peeled for actual fic later this week
AO3 | FFNet | AskFM | Ko-Fi
Parts of it aren't bad, though I am glad I rewrote it - tonally it doesn't fit, and reading it over I still make faces at how serious and un-fun the whole vibe is. I was kind of trying for too many things here, plus I committed the cardinal sin of letting the boys being the smartest ones in the room. My gravest error, and the thing that sticks out the most to me when I read this over.
Setup: they've tracked down Mike to a creepy abandoned hospital. The Blues are hanging outside with Prof U while the Reds and Greens go in to investigate. A couple of canonically dumpster fire boys being too smart and a couple of canonically cool & powerful girls being too damesel-y. I atone for these transgressions daily. Enjoy my sins.
***
The higher up they went the less property damage there was. While taggers had clearly left their signatures in the stairwell, the third floor could almost pass for usable, save for the peeling paint and dust. The moon was a little higher now, high enough for light to pass through and reveal speckles of little floating dust particles in the air.
This, combined with the diminishing odor of mold and rotten fluids that had pervaded the first floor, seemed to relax Blossom a great deal, and she stepped ahead of Butch without waiting for him to light the way. The flashlight wasn't necessary at this point.
“Looks like this was the recovery wing,” she whispered, peering into the rooms. Most of them had been gutted of their equipment, though beds remained in a few of them. Brick looked into a couple and then decisively avoided looking in further. At least the first floor looked like it had gone through years of abandonment and the subsequent abuse associated with it. This floor was worse to him. It gave the impression that everyone who'd previously occupied it had simply disappeared into the ether. And while this floor didn't have the rank smell of the first, there was something else about it. Something oddly familiar that made the hairs on Brick's neck stand on end.
Butch sensed it, too. “Smells weird up here.”
“Better than down there,” Buttercup said.
Butch pocked the flashlight, looking around distractedly. “Yeah,” he finally said, though his tone didn't sound very convinced.
Brick's eyes were on Blossom as she led the way, tiptoeing down the hall and occasionally peering into a room via the slim window in the door.
“What are you looking for?” he finally whispered, when they were nearly halfway down the hall.
“Whoever's footsteps we heard,” she whispered back.
“I think I know this smell,” Buttercup abruptly said, her brow knit in concentration. “Weird.”
“I told you,” Butch said.
“As long as we're not inhaling black mold spores, I'd say it's an improvement,” Blossom murmured.
No, Brick thought tensely, suddenly noticing how much stronger the scent was now. No, this is not an improvement. Why couldn't he place it?
“I've smelled this before,” Buttercup said again. “Like... it smells like I've tasted it, too.”
Butch stifled a laugh. “Oh, that's too easy. You can't say stuff like that, I'll just—”
He cut off mid-sentence, and Buttercup looked at him, her expression bored.
“You'll just what?”
She didn't quite catch it. Brick was behind him and had fought with him enough times in all their years together to notice the slight tensing in his posture, the almost undetectable clench of his jaw.
Butch grunted something, and Buttercup shrugged, turning around again to follow her sister. “Uh-huh.”
With her moving away, Butch swiveled his head to meet Brick's gaze. His expression was grim, and the intense green of his eyes seemed to will a message to his leader. It hit Brick like a fucking freight train.
Blood. That was it. That was the smell.
They both looked to the girls instantly, moving unawares down the hall. Buttercup was more visibly tense than her sister; no doubt there was an unconscious recognition that was setting her nerves on edge.
Butch began to move after them, his hand moving to his pocket where—Brick knew—a hidden seam concealed an emergency weapon. Brick caught up to him before he could get much further, reminded of his own empty hands.
“What do you have on you?” he whispered. “I left mine with Boomer.”
Butch's eyes flitted to the girls, then reached into his other pocket for the knife's mate and slipped it into Brick's sleeve.
“That's it. I'm tapped out,” he murmured. “Would've brought something with a trigger to pull if I'd known we'd be getting into this shit.”
“This one of your 42s?” Brick asked, flicking his wrist to mime the action of opening it. It'd been awhile since he'd handled a butterfly; he wanted to make sure he had the muscle memory for it down.
Butch nodded curtly, then moved to re-join the girls. He edged ahead of them, while Brick hung at the back, darting a glance over his shoulder every now and again in between looking into each room.
Empty. Empty. Empty. Empty. One after another.
The change in atmosphere, and Butch's attitude especially, did not go unnoticed.
“What's got you so riled up?” Blossom asked an uncharacteristically solemn Butch.
“I thought I heard something,” he automatically responded.
Blossom looked back at Brick, who was glancing over his shoulder again. “You too, Brick?”
“Yeah,” he said gruffly, his eyes catching on something amiss on the floor. He looked away from it, and as soon as Blossom was once again facing forward, he knelt to examine the tiles. Something funny about them.
“Anybody else smell Pine-Sol now?” Buttercup whispered.
They're clean. But why would this part of the floor be clean, and the rest...
He let his gaze drift up and it hesitated on the wall. There were some faint bloodstains that had been smeared in the scrubbing attempt, but he could still make out the initial outlines. Projected bloodstains, no less. Whoever it was had been hit by something, like a two-by-four.
This was looking grimmer by the minute. They had to get the girls out of here.
“We've got to go,” he said as he stood. Once again the girls looked at him. Butch was already at the end of the hall, where it veered off to the left. His attention was held by something down that way, and he didn't acknowledge his brother.
“Now,” Brick added, voice low and threatening. They were going to listen to him at this crucial moment, at least, for fuck's sake—
“Yeah.” Butch surprised the girls by acquiescing. He looked away from the hall, back to the group. “Yeah. We should go.”
Blossom mouthed helplessly before managing, “What? We—we haven't even gone down this other way—”
“There's nothing there,” Butch muttered, grabbing both her and Buttercup by the arm and dragging them back to Brick.
“Hey!” Buttercup hissed, struggling as quietly as she could.
“How do you know?” Blossom demanded. “You didn't even go down—”
“I'm telling you, there's nothing—”
A sudden thump from that very end of the hall interrupted him, and everybody halted. After a moment's hesitation, Blossom socked Butch as hard as she could in the gut, causing him to let go, and she moved back towards that left hall.
Brick raced to get in front of her, practically skidding to a stop as he threw an arm across her path, his eyes burning into hers.
She glowered back. “What? What are you two hiding?”
“I swear to God, I will drag you kicking and screaming out of here if I have to,” he said, his voice chilling the air. “We are leaving.”
“Why?”
He was ready to tear her head off. She was being so fucking difficult! A snarl was already building up in the back of his throat when it suddenly occurred to him that he was going about this all the wrong way. If he got nasty with her, she'd just get nasty back. So...
He hoped enough of his anger had drained from his expression before he said, “Because I'm afraid of you getting hurt.”
The sudden softening of her expression was remarkable. But she shook her head, blinking. Still resisting.
“I... I'm not going to—”
“We don't have any powers right now,” he went on. “We're not as strong as we should be. We're vulnerable. And if something happens to you...” He paused here for effect, made a calculated swallow, and let it hang there.
She was staring at him, transfixed, but as soon as he finished her eyes still darted over his shoulder. Oh, for fuck's sake. Fine. If that didn't do it, this would.
He dropped his arm and started backing away, towards the left hall. “Let me. I'll check. Okay?”
She followed him a few steps. “Thank you.”
Ignoring the smallness of her voice and how small she herself looked in that filtered moonlight, he turned and looked down the hall to see what had so commanded Butch's attention. A quick scan from where he stood only came up empty, at least visually. Then he realized that the smell of blood had suddenly gotten much stronger. Pine-Sol was doing little to mask it, which meant...
He looked back at his brother, who was standing where Blossom had broken free, about a third of the way back down the main hall. He still gripped Buttercup by the elbow. Blossom herself was staring expectantly at Brick. He let his gaze linger on her, then looked purposefully back towards whatever it was that had made that sound.
The room where it was coming from was at the very end, and the door was only just ajar; standing at the other end he couldn't even tell it was open. Brick stared at the slim opening. Unlike the other rooms, this one was pitch black inside. He wondered what had happened to the windows.
I don't like this.
“Brick.” Blossom appeared at the corner. “Can you see what's in there?”
He lifted a hand and gently pushed the handle. The crack widened. Just enough. The smell of blood intensified, overtook all his other senses, and he stared.
Blossom took another step. “Brick?”
Brick grabbed the handle and yanked the door shut, stalking back and grabbing Blossom along the way.
“It's empty,” he said roughly, forgoing all former pretense of affectionate concern.
“You didn't even go inside—wait a second, would you?!” She braced her weight against the floor, causing him to practically drag her after him. “We all heard it, and you didn't even—”
He whirled on her and said firmly, “It's empty, Blossom.”
“Brick, let go!”
“What is with you guys?!” Buttercup cried.
“Keep your voices down!” Brick made a threatening motion across his neck. “Come on, Blossom—”
“Not until you tell me what's going on!”
A sudden nearby clattering noise interrupted them, originating from one of the rooms in the main hall right next to Buttercup. She wrenched her arm free from Butch and threw open the door.
“Buttercup!” Brick shouted, as they all bolted after her.
***
keep your eyes peeled for actual fic later this week
AO3 | FFNet | AskFM | Ko-Fi
no subject
Sbj ur writing is seriously like crack, like wtf. It's really good and i'm addicted to it.
no subject
Blossom, baby, hang in there. Don't believe a word he says, love.
no subject
God damn I am so stupid sometimes. I even read it again and I'm still lost.
My rose tinted glasses are bolted to my fukn face at this point 🤦♀️