Entry tags:
- fic,
- more than human,
- ppg,
- tef
Small, but it counts.
Title: More Than Human
Chapter 6a: Imperfect Boys With Their Perfect Lives, or Take Me Home, I'd Rather Die
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: Thanks always to![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mathkid and juxtaposie for putting up with me. This is a small prequel/backstory mini-chapter. Regular TEF timeline resumes next chapter, and then you have one more to sit through. Hope you enjoy it, nonetheless!
More Than Human, Pt. 0.5 – Winter Previous
December – Imperfect Boys With Their Perfect Lives, or Take Me Home, I'd Rather Die
-sbj-
There was a young woman visiting Townsville who was very pleased with herself. She was generally rather pleased with herself, actually, but today she was feeling exceptionally self-congratulatory.
She pulled her dark brown hair into a ponytail as she paced the apartment, sidestepping the guys who were moving everything in—she'd been prepped to hire professional movers, but the agents had insisted on helping out. She supposed it was their manly way of saying they were going to miss the Boys, too.
She nodded approvingly at the berber carpet, the high-ceilinged room, the large windows in the dining area that were flooding the apartment with faded winter light. The place was gradually filling with boxes, boxes that would soon be unpacked, their wares just waiting to be arranged. Like the finishing touches on a particularly fine piece of work.
Manning the front desk of Evil was her day job, a job that she was damn good at. But interior design was her passion.
A familiar stampede of noise echoed in the hall outside, and within seconds it had burst into the apartment.
“Dude!” Butch cackled. “Bitchin' place!”
Boomer, his electric slung over his shoulder and the case that housed his acoustic in his hands, singled out the first bedroom door he laid eyes on and made a beeline for it.
“That one's mine,” he announced, pointing. “Neither of you other fuckers can take that one, I'm claiming it—”
“No, no, Boomer,” the woman called out, grasping him by the shoulder and gently guiding him around. “That one, there. Better acoustics.” He beamed at her.
“Thanks, Penny.”
“I can't believe we get our own rooms!” Butch stopped in front of her and grinned. “I could kiss you.”
“Chemical X doesn't lessen the burn of pepper spray in your eyes, Butch,” Penny said good-naturedly, allowing him a high five. She pointed. “I gave you the room with the biggest window. Easy to air out, you know.”
“You're the best. Have I mentioned how good you look in jeans?” he said, laughing, and went off to go inspect his room, slapping a box that read Boomer out of a guy's hands.
Penny smirked and turned back to the door, her eyes falling on Brick. Unlike his brothers, he hadn't come bounding in. He was standing just to one side of the entrance, scrutinizing their apartment with a look of distaste. She sighed and strolled up to him, dodging more boxes.
“Brick. Don't you like it? I went to a lot of work to get this place for you guys.”
“I wanted a loft,” he muttered.
“Don't be a brat,” she scolded, batting his temple. “You get your own room. The biggest one, in fact.”
He readjusted his hat; she'd messed it up some.
“Yay.”
“And you guys are going to have your privacy. The building's filled with nothing but single businessmen who work too much and don't socialize with their neighbors.”
He looked up and said, “The ceiling's pretty high. Waste of energy to heat this place.”
“Well, you can fly up there yourself and make sure you utilize the space. And since when do you care about conserving energy?”
“Penny.” Brick looked at her, suddenly seeming less like the agent he was and more like the teenager he was. “I don't wanna be here.”
She took a deep breath and refrained from reaching out a reassuring arm; he'd only back away from it, anyhow.
“Come on,” she said encouragingly, smiling. “Let me show you your room.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked to the end opposite from his brothers' rooms. Once inside she opened the blinds to throw in some daylight. After a minute, she heard Brick shuffle in behind her. She turned and grinned, pointing.
“Your bed's going here. I would've put it over there, but it'd throw the whole layout of the room off and you'd have to climb or fly over it any time you wanted to get to your shelves. So it's going here, we've got shelves going in on this wall, you've got this area set aside for whatever—if you want to set up your canvas here, you can do that—”
He paced the room, his gaze obediently following Penny's directions. He stopped by the windows, briefly, and peered through the blinds. Penny came up beside him and looked out over the buildings on Townsville's West Side.
“Lovely view, isn't it?”
Brick scowled.
“It sucks,” he grumbled.
“Come on, Brick. Work with me here. I mean, it's not the most glamorous city, granted, but—”
“You know this stupid vacation wasn't even Smith's idea?” he interrupted, face darkening at the memory. “He knew we didn't 'need' one. He knew I didn't want one. You know who suggested it? Darius, that little... that good-for-nothing, worthless piece of shit, he runs a financial group or two and suddenly he thinks he can just jump into the fucking Lake of Evil Industry and make a mark! He suggested it! A fucking twentysomething who hasn't even been with the company for two years is on the board, telling me what to do! It'd be God damn hilarious if it wasn't so God damn irritating!”
Penny held her breath and bit back the impulse to point out that life was hardly fair, that life in any business wasn't any fairer, and that really, Darius might have been twentysomething, but Brick was seventeen. Seventeen and throwing tantrums about his elders, like any typical teenager. She knew better than to say all this out loud, though. She was just past her mid-twenties herself and had never raised a child, but she knew better.
She walked over to the end of the room, nearest the bathroom, and tapped the one piece of furniture that had already been moved in.
“Brick. Do you want to see your desk? I had the guys in Tech outfit it for you, especially.”
He stayed where he was, fuming and glaring at the desk as if it had done him some great personal injustice. After a second of waiting, Penny shrugged and spread her hands on its surface, tapping her fingers on the polished wood.
“Be careful about what you put on top. It's pretty sturdy, but there's some delicate equipment in here.” She reached underneath the desk, her hand guided by memory alone as there were no telltale marks to indicate where the console was. “The control pad is here. Access code is zero-four-nine-nine.”
Brick's curiosity outweighed his anger. He sidled over, kneeling to look under the desk. Penny outlined the console's area with a finger, and Brick reached up, sliding his hand across it.
“You can't even feel it,” he murmured.
“Pretty cool, huh? Even feels like wood.” She tapped in the combo and a large holographic screen flickered to life above the desk.
Brick stood, eyes widening a little in what might have been awe.
“Here. Don't blink.” Penny moved him to where she was standing, and a thin beam of light shot out to track across his eyes. “It even recognizes your voice. Go on and say your name.”
He glanced at her and obediently complied.
“Brick.”
A variety of windows instantly spread across the screen, and Penny touched a finger to one of them, then dragged it around the screen, pointing out where each window would take him—e-mail here, personal files here, a simple dictionary password hack program here (“For little things, you know, just trying to cover all your bases,” Penny said), and this one led to the communications console—
“And look, you can call us up anytime you like,” Penny said, tapping in the number to headquarters and waving at Paul when he picked up. “Hey, just testing it out.”
“Get back soon. I can't handle the phones like you,” he said, his statement punctuated by the familiar beeping of several calls coming in on the other lines. “Brick, have a good vacation.” Paul flickered off, and Brick navigated back to the main menu to explore more.
Penny let him play with it for a bit, then said, “So... like I said, you can call us up anytime you like. You know me, I'm always at the desk.”
Brick paused and looked at her.
“I shouldn't be able to call you up to talk to you. I should be able to walk down the fucking stairs and speak with you face to face.”
He shut off his glorified desktop and walked past her, back out into the living room. Penny heaved a sigh.
“How big is this thing?” Butch's voice echoed through the doorway. “Fifty inches? We got a fifty-inch TV?”
Boomer's elated voice joined him.
“This sound system is so killer, oh my God. Hook that up first so we can get some music going in here!”
Penny walked out to see the agents vainly trying to set things up with two boisterous superpowered teenage boys breathing down their necks. A few guys had just set down the couch, and Brick sat on it the second it was lowered to the floor. After glancing between him and his brothers, she clapped her hands.
“Brick! You and your brothers, go out and get us all some coffee.”
The boys all looked at her.
“What?”
“Quit messing around,” she said, flapping her hands at Boomer and Butch to shoo them from the TV and stereo. “Let the guys handle it. You three go out for a bit.”
“I have absolutely no desire to leave this room, unless it is to go back home,” Brick groaned, covering his eyes.
“I'm not sending your brothers out by themselves. You really think if I send those two out to get two gallons of coffee that I am actually going to get two gallons of coffee?”
“Penny!” Boomer cried, offended. “Don't you trust us?”
“I am so hurt by your words,” Butch said with a sniffle. “Comfort me in your bosom.”
“Watch it, jailbait,” Penny said flatly, and flicked the company credit card to Brick. “Here. Go out and get two gallons of coffee and a tall chai latte for me. Plus whatever you three want to drink. Take your time. As long as you're back in an hour and the drinks don't go cold, you can do whatever the hell you want.” After a pause, she added, “Except destroy the city.”
“Low profiles,” Butch nodded solemnly. “Gotcha.”
Everybody in the room went silent and stared at Butch. He looked around.
“What?”
“You're right,” Brick sighed, standing and pocketing the card. “I'd better go with them.”
***
“Nobody seems to recognize us,” Boomer observed as they walked down the street in the chilly winter air.
“That's good,” Brick reminded him.
“Naw, I was just... I thought some people might remember who we were, is all.”
“We could remind them,” Butch laughed, and Brick sensed the sudden crackle of energy in his brother's hand and whipped around, snatching him by the wrist.
“Don't even fucking think about it,” he growled, green sparks skittering across their hands. Butch scoffed.
“Relax, bro. I was just kidding.”
The green sparks stopped, and Brick let go. After getting in one more glare for good measure, he turned and continued to lead them down the street.
“Say, we got an hour. We probably don't need to get the coffee for another, like, forty-five minutes.” Boomer bounced up next to Brick. “Let's go do something!”
“Like what?” he grumbled.
“Scope out the honeys in the mall,” Butch answered, pointing across the street. Brick groaned.
“It's the fucking holiday season. You know how crowded that bastard's going to be?”
“Which means it's the perfect place to hide in plain sight and not attract attention, right?” Boomer said, slapping Brick on the back with one hand and snaking out the credit card with his other.
“Hey!”
Butch and Boomer were already diving into traffic, dodging the honking cars as they jaywalked—well, it was more of a jayrun—across the street to the mall.
Brick sighed and darted a longing glance at the coffeeshop they'd been approaching on the corner. Then he too made his way across the street, pausing to wait for the cars to pass.
Navigating the street was one thing, but navigating the mall parking lot was another thing entirely. It felt like hours before he made it through the entrance, and it had taken a supreme amount of self-control to not utterly destroy the vehicle of anyone who honked at him.
“Fucking city,” he muttered irritably as he slammed through the doors and spied his brothers inspecting a map. “Fucking holidays.”
“I need to go here,” Boomer said, pointing. “I left my capo at JS.”
“Well, I need to go here and stock up on some fucking horror. Fifty-inches of zombie coming at you? Hell yes.”
“You guys get to go to one place each,” Brick announced, snatching the credit card back. “And then we go get coffee.”
“Don't you want to go anywhere, Brick?” Boomer asked.
“Of course I do,” he said. “But I can't for another six friggin' months.”
As they started walking, Boomer continued, “You still sore about it, huh?”
“We didn't need a fucking vacation,” Brick said. Boomer shrugged.
“I think it's nice.”
“I think it's awesome,” Butch put in.
“It's an effort to get us away from the company,” Brick snarled, stepping aside to dodge a cluster of people laden with shopping bags. “The board wants us out.”
They want me out, he thought.
“You still on that, man?” Boomer asked.
“Darius doesn't want us around. He views us as a threat.”
Butch coughed and spit on the floor, ignoring the looks of shocked disgust people threw him.
“Darius is a prick, but come on—”
“I'm serious,” Brick muttered. “This isn't a vacation. This is banishment. We'd probably be 'vacationing' longer if we didn't have Smith on our side.”
“You're so negative!” Boomer exclaimed. “You're like a modern day teenage Scrooge with superpowers.”
Brick paused and closed his eyes, long enough to expel a slow sigh. His brothers hung back, waiting. After a second, he started walking again. Butch and Boomer exchanged a look, then Boomer bounded forward.
“Cheer up, bro. It's only six months.”
“You need a break, dude,” Butch added, coming up on his other side. “You stress about shit too much.”
Brick stopped and looked up.
“We're here.”
They glanced up to see the sign for Guitar God, and Boomer lit up, ducking inside as soon as Brick had handed off the credit card.
“I'm waitin' here!” Butch called after him.
“Same,” Brick said, turning and leaning his arms against the railing—they were on the second floor. He watched the scores of people milling around on the lower level with disdain. Happy, blithering sheep. This city especially was crawling with them.
He'd noticed it the moment they'd driven back in. Townsville wasn't like other cities. Its people were so God damn happy, so God damn stupid. For a place that had supposedly suffered from the worst crime rates in the nation just twelve years ago, they acted like they had never faced any hardship, never endured any heartbreak. They just went about their stupid, happy lives, with those stupid, happy faces, while three girls with superpowers ran around cleaning up their fucking messes.
They were stupid, too. Stupider, even.
Brick hated them and this city and its people and everything else one could possibly hate about Townsville. He would've leveled it on his way out five years ago if he'd known a fuckhead like Darius would have ordered him back.
Darius knew Brick hated it. He also knew the city was watched over by three superheroes, with whom the boys had a history. He and the entire board sans Smith had opted to send them to Townsville and ordered them to keep a low profile, with the full expectation that they would fuck up.
They knew Butch. They thought they knew Brick.
He was going to have to keep close tabs on his brother. He said he'd behave, but words didn't mean anything when it came to Butch.
Of course, once Brick was in charge, none of this would matter. But first Brick had to get there, which meant furthering his plan, which meant being at headquarters, which meant getting out of this Godforsaken city as soon as possible.
In the grand scheme of things, this new hurdle was hardly noteworthy. In Brick's grand scheme, it was another story.
“One day,” he sighed, and Butch joined him at the rail.
“One day, this will all be yours for the taking,” he bellowed in a mocking voice, the last part of his sentence collapsing into subdued laughter. Brick waited for him to finish.
“I'd wipe this stain off the planet if I could,” he muttered.
“Hey, once you're the man in charge, who's to say you can't?” Butch hoisted himself up so he was sitting on the railing, legs dangling over the edge. “Although, shit. The way it's going? Waiting until we're twenty-one to execute this master plan of yours?” He twisted, planted his feet against the rail, and, still grasping the banister, leaned back to watch the downstairs mall patrons upside down. “I don't think you can hold out that long, brother.”
“That makes two of us,” Brick said. A security guard on the first level spotted Butch and started waving. “Get your ass back over here. You're going to make a scene.”
Butch made a face, but obediently complied. Once he was back on solid ground, Boomer came running up, grinning as he pocketed his capo and handed the card back over to Brick.
“Sa-weet,” Butch sang, and pivoted. “My turn.”
“Nothing says Christmas like a giant stack of horror movies,” Boomer agreed. Brick trailed after them, and they all muscled their way onto the escalator going down.
Something caught Brick's attention as they moved, and he frowned, his muscles tensing. Beyond the almost deafening chatter of the crowds, there was this faint sound echoing in the distance that was oddly familiar...
They reached the first floor, took a second to get their bearings, and then Butch led them all in the direction of the nearest movie store. The sound that had arrested Brick's attention on the escalator began to build as they walked—whatever it was, they were getting closer, and he started to move ahead of his brothers, eager to discover what it was.
The claustrophobic space suddenly opened up before them, and Brick stepped into the wide, atrium-like center of the mall. A small stage had been set up on one end with speakers and blank television screens surrounding the area.
“Huh.” Boomer looked around. “They got some kind of event going on here?”
“Townsville Mall thanks you,” Butch read off the banner hanging on the stage backdrop.
“There was sound just a second ago,” Brick said, puzzled.
Butch hadn't finished.
“Powerpuff Girls.”
They discovered the TVs and speakers hadn't gone dead. The video was just restarting its cycle.
The A/V equpiment all suddenly exploded to life, color sparking across the screens and high energy music blasting out of the speakers.
Brick gaped as video clips of the girls' heroics—battles with criminals, monsters, familiar supervillains—assaulted his vision, the MTV-inspired fast cuts and editing numbing his brain.
“You have got to be shitting me,” he said incredulously.
“Damn right,” Butch said, a little glazed as he approached the screen. “The redhead is fucking smoking hot.” He turned back to his brothers. “How did a stubby little goody-two-shoes girl grow into that?! Talk about the right way to hit puberty!”
“Not bad,” Boomer said approvingly as the scene cut from a thwarted car chase to quick subjugation of a laser-wielding Mojo Jojo.
“Where the fuck did they get all this footage?” Brick squawked indignantly as it cut yet again to a monster attack. “Are you telling me they've got a fucking camera crew that follows them around for the sole purpose of putting promos together?!”
There was a sound byte of Blossom commanding her sisters, and Brick's muscles reflexively tensed again. Even five years later, his body was still conditioned to brace itself for an attack the second he registered her voice. That was what had sounded so familiar.
She still sounded like a self-righteous, bitchy know-it-all. Absolutely nothing had changed about this city.
“It looks like they're gonna be here in an hour,” Boomer said, gleaning the information off a sign, and Brick snapped to.
He grabbed Butch—who was about five seconds away from drowning in his own drool—and pointed him in the direction of his store.
“Let's move it,” he barked. “There's no fucking way I want to run into them today.”
“It's going to happen eventually,” Butch said (after swallowing). “What's the point in delaying me meeting my future wife-slash-sex-slave?”
“You had better be fucking joking,” Brick snarled, glancing back to make sure Boomer was on their tail. “Because I am not in the mood. To either meet them or listen to your asshattery.” He glanced back again to find Boomer had stopped and was waving at them.
“Guys! Check this out!”
“We gotta get going!” Brick snapped, but Butch was already moving back. Grumbling, Brick stalked over and snatched both his brothers by their collars. “I mean it—”
He halted, eyes widening as he took in the store display. Three giant banners were displayed in the windows of this shoe store, each featuring one of the girls full body from the chin down, their lips just visible at the top.
“They have a shoe deal!” Boomer said, sounding a little awed and as if he would very much like to endorse a shoe himself.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Brick cried.
Butch just stared at the center ad featuring Blossom and gurgled helplessly.
Brick swore and tore his eyes away, utterly disgusted. “This fucking city,” he said bitterly under his breath, and dragged his brothers away. The movie store was only a couple doors down, and he practically flung his brothers in there.
“Hurry up,” he snapped at Butch. “Get your movies and let's get the hell out of here.”
As Butch made for the Horror section with Boomer close behind, Brick kept a wary watch outside. Just their fucking luck. Potentially running into the girls their first day back was a good way to start off a return trip.
“Got 'em!”
Brick turned, mildly impressed.
“Already—”
He cut off as he took in the stack of DVDs approaching the counter, with his brother ostensibly behind it.
“What the hell do you need that many for?!”
“You wanna keep me outta trouble, don't you?” Butch retorted, setting the stack down on the counter. The guy at the register had to use a stepladder to get to the top one. Brick watched as the guy began to methodically scan each DVD.
After the fifth one he snapped, “Can't you go any faster?!”
“This is an old system, sir,” the cashier said in a bored tone, not looking up. He reached a DVD that wouldn't scan. He furrowed his brow and tried it a couple more times, then tapped the scanner. “Shoot. It's acting up again—”
Brick's temper flared, and he moved into the store like a shadow, dragging all the darkness with him. His brothers instantly moved out of his way as he leaned on the counter and pushed forward, making sure that when the cashier looked up, he could see his expression. His incredibly dangerous, unhappy expression.
The guy behind the counter went white and swallowed.
“Pick it up,” Brick snarled.
Having cowed the employee (and possibly the scanner as well) into submission, within ten seconds all of Butch's movies were accounted for and bagged, plus a magazine Butch threw in at the last minute.
“Thank you,” Brick said in a voice that sounded less like an expression of gratitude and more like a threat. “Now let's go.”
“Aw,” Boomer whined, pouting as they started to head back out into the mall. “It hasn't even been an hour yet—”
“Bubbles! We have to get moving! We're here for publicity purposes, not to go shopping!”
A horrified Brick skidded to an immediate stop, grabbing his brothers to keep from moving further. The familiar voice of a self-righteous, bitchy know-it-all was rapidly approaching, flanked by her sisters, and headed directly for their store.
He swore and ducked back into the store, yanking his brothers along with him. He dragged them past the bewildered cashier and down several aisles, desperate for a place to hide. He settled on the documentary aisle and hunched down, motioning at his brothers to do the same as the girls entered the store, still bickering.
“But we still need a present for the Professor!” the blonde protested. “We don't have to go on for another forty-five minutes. We can squeeze in some shopping, at least—”
“Bubbles is right,” the scowling, dark-haired girl said. “Christmas is a freakin' week away. We're running out of time.”
The redhead sighed. Brick couldn't believe that even at, what, sixteen? Seventeen? She was still wearing that ridiculous bow.
“Fine. But only for fifteen minutes! We need at least half an hour to prep before we go up on stage.”
“It won't even take five,” the blonde giggled, and trotted over to an aisle. “Now let's see... where to start...”
“A documentary, maybe,” their leader suggested, and a jolt of irritation shot through Brick as he glanced up at the genre of the aisle he and his siblings were hiding in.
“Ooh! That's a good idea—”
Brick could see them coming and motioned hastily at his brothers to back out over into the next aisle. They ducked in just as the blonde came around the corner to browse.
“What kind of documentary, do you think?” she asked as her sisters joined her.
Butch made a strangled little noise as he peered at the redhead's back, and Brick shot him a deadly look.
“Something science-related...”
“Okay, whatever,” the dark-haired girl said, bored. “I'm going to check out the Horror.”
Brick paused and looked up at the genre of their aisle. His eye twitched.
Then he was dragging his brothers into the next aisle over as she came around.
“Dang. Someone cleared this section out.”
“Buttercup, this is a group present! You ought to help us pick one out!”
“Chill out, Blossom. Boxed set of that nature show. There. Now you have my suggestion.”
“They're out,” the blonde said sadly.
“Yeah, we've probably waited too long to get it,” Buttercup said, flipping through some DVDs. “I'll bet you can't even find it online anymore.”
Brick wanted to slit his own throat. They couldn't find what they'd come in for! Did they have to freaking talk about it? Why wouldn't they just leave?
“We don't have to get him a documentary. What about an action flick? Or a romcom?”
As Brick looked up, his heart sinking as he took in their aisle's genre, Bubbles squealed, “Oh yeah! There's this chick flick I've been meaning to get—”
This was getting ridiculous. The boys scrambled into the next aisle as Bubbles bounced over.
“Girls. No. We're supposed to be shopping for the Professor! If this is all you're going to do, then let's go get ready! You'll both have time to goof off afterwards.”
Listen to her, he thought frantically. Please, PLEASE listen to her...
“All right, Red. Let's go, Bubbles.” Buttercup set her DVD down and made for the doors. Over on the other side, Bubbles mumbled something, then dutifully followed.
Brick inwardly sighed, relieved.
Then Boomer accidentally kicked Butch's bag and sent a slew of DVDs cascading onto the floor in the aisle, catching the girls' attentions before they could leave.
Brick's eyes were glowing red and murderous as he glared at his brothers, who instantly pointed at each other in silence.
“Huh.” They heard Buttercup approaching, and they started to scoot back as quietly as they could.
“What's wrong, Buttercup?” Bubbles said from the opposite end of the aisle, and the boys immediately stopped. They were surrounded; there hadn't been enough time for Bubbles to make it to her sisters' side of the store, and now she was doubling back, closing in on the last aisle where the boys were. They had nowhere else to go.
Brick turned to his brothers and motioned: I am going to strangle you both to death by each other's intestines when we get home.
There was a rustle from Buttercup's end of the aisle, and they watched a hand reach for one of the DVDs, the top of her head cresting into view as Bubbles' footsteps came closer, nearly upon them—
The sudden trill of three superheroes' cell phones going off echoed in the store. The footsteps stopped, and the hand and top of a dark head of hair disappeared from their vision.
Three voices asked simultaneously, “Mayor?”
There was a rumble then, one that was faint and undetectable to the average human, but six boys and girls in a movie store felt it. The girls dashed out in streaks of blue, green, and pink, the colors flashing briefly against the windows in the store.
The boys waited a minute or so. Then Brick stood up and heaved a sigh.
“Whoo! That was a close one!” Boomer said brightly as he stood. For some reason the sound of his voice just then gave Brick a huge headache. Butch collected his fallen loot and tossed it back in the bag.
“Crisis averted! What now?”
“Coffee,” Brick announced in a grim voice. “Then an aspirin. Then—” He glared at both his brothers again, his lip curling ever-so-slightly. “Strangling to follow.”
***
“You're back! Wow, you boys certainly took advantage of that hour.”
“The last time I act out of brotherly charity,” Brick groused. He carried both gallon boxes of coffee under his arms, with Penny's chai latte clutched in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
“Water, Brick? Is that all you got?”
“I've got a headache. Bad time for coffee.”
Penny glanced at Butch, carrying another gallon box.
“Oh, you got three gallons? I thought I only asked for two.”
“You did,” Butch answered. “This is mine.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, you and your addictions. How silly of me to forget.”
“Remind me never to let you get your hands on any cocaine,” Brick grumbled at his brother.
“Cocaine is a hell of a drug,” Boomer said in a low, mocking voice, and at the looks people threw at him, he cried indignantly, “What? Are you kidding me? You guys never watched Chappelle's Show?”
“Here Brick, I'll grab that,” one of the guys said, and took both boxes away, over to the kitchen. “Coffee, boys!”
As agents emerged like ants out of the woodwork, lured by the promise of caffeine, Penny graciously accepted her chai from Brick.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You're welcome. Can I go home now?”
“Let's keep your three wishes within the realm of possibility here.”
Brick twisted his cap open.
“How about an aspirin, then?”
Penny went in search of her purse and dug around in it for a bottle as Brick chugged some water.
“Here.”
“You guys set up the sound yet? It's time for some music. Where're all my CDs?”
“Still in the boxes in your room, Boomer,” Penny told him.
“You guys look like you're almost done,” Brick said, looking around the apartment. Most everything in the living room was unpacked.
“Come on. Compliment me on my superb interior design skills,” she preened.
Brick looked around, his eyes halting briefly on Butch and their co-workers in the kitchen, all of them laughing as Butch chugged coffee out of the spigot of his box. He turned back to Penny.
“Please tell me that guy gets his own bathroom.”
Avril Lavigne began blasting through the speakers, which did absolutely nothing for Brick's headache.
“Boomer!” he snapped. “What the hell?! I destroyed all your copies of her albums before we left!”
“I stocked up at the music store when you weren't looking.”
“Kill it before I kill you!”
“That reminds me, when is the strangling supposed to be happening?” Boomer queried. “Can I pencil you in at five? You've gotta give me some time to unpack first.”
The music suddenly died with a warble, and Penny stood up from where she had unplugged the system.
“Boomer, be nice to your brother. He's homesick.”
“I am not homesick,” Brick snarled.
“Do you want to be here?” she asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to go home?”
“...Yes.”
She shrugged and said, “Sounds like a textbook case of homesickness to me.”
The aspirin was also doing absolutely nothing for his headache.
“Here,” Penny was saying. “Let's watch some TV instead—”
“This magazine has the girls' shoe ads in it!” Butch exclaimed triumphantly, then settled on a page as the guys peered over his shoulder. “See this? This is the new love of my life. I want to lick her.”
“Who?” Penny looked at Brick as the TV flickered to life behind her. “Who's he talking about?”
Brick shook his head, not deigning to answer, but paused as he caught sight of the image on their television.
“There she is,” Boomer said, pointing. There was a scuffle in the kitchen, then Butch zipped into the living room and began pawing at the TV.
Brick watched in silence as some inane interview took place.
“Oh, the monster was no trouble at all,” she was saying. “All in a day's work, you know!”
“Some timing, huh?” the woman interviewing her said. “On a day when you're being honored for saving the mall from massive destruction by Mojo Jojo's Giant Robo Jojo—”
Brick would never understand that chimp's penchant for ridiculous names for his toys.
“Believe me, it's a pleasure for me and my sisters—there's really no need for all this ceremony about it! We're happy to help people. It's what we do.”
“Somebody unpack the ice pick,” Brick announced, “and stab it into my temple.”
“You'd ruin the ice pick,” Penny pointed out.
“Then douse me in Antidote X, and then stab me.”
“God, that girl's got a gorgeous mouth, doesn't she?” Butch said lustily.
“Do we even have an ice pick?” Boomer asked.
Brick stared at the screen as she continued to blather on. How noble. How heroic. How fucking charitable. What a gracious use of your powers, to use them for the good of the people.
The mere sight of her disgusted him.
And in less than three weeks they'd be attending the same school. They were already in the same city. Fucking perfect.
He didn't belong here. He didn't belong in this farce of a city, with its stupid happiness and stupid heroes and stupid fucking villains who never realized their potential, villains who clung to the destruction of heroic symbols for a city that wasn't even worth the time of day.
Brick had been such a stupid kid once, to want that, too.
There were nations out there, a whole fucking world for the taking. And even if any of them realized it, these ridiculous villains in Townsville would've wanted a gaudy throne to sit on. There was no cunning, no intricate planning, no realization that one could take over the world without visibly taking over. They were so closed-minded. They didn't get it. None of them did.
Not even Him had. And Him was Evil Incarnate.
Him wasn't interested in the world. None of them were, really. At the end of the day, all Townsville's stupid villains ever wanted to do was run around with little girls.
He stared and stared at her. Chasing her? Fighting her? A fucking enormous waste of time.
The Powerpuff Girls weren't worth the world. And this one, this fucking Saint here? Definitely wasn't worth it.
Brick watched her on that screen, a benevolent ruler addressing her people, assuring her people. His lip curled.
This was going to be a fantastic fucking six months.
-end Ch. 6a-
Only a few hours left to request Valentines of me. Deets here.
Chapter 6a: Imperfect Boys With Their Perfect Lives, or Take Me Home, I'd Rather Die
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: Thanks always to
mathkid and juxtaposie for putting up with me. This is a small prequel/backstory mini-chapter. Regular TEF timeline resumes next chapter, and then you have one more to sit through. Hope you enjoy it, nonetheless!More Than Human, Pt. 0.5 – Winter Previous
December – Imperfect Boys With Their Perfect Lives, or Take Me Home, I'd Rather Die
-sbj-
There was a young woman visiting Townsville who was very pleased with herself. She was generally rather pleased with herself, actually, but today she was feeling exceptionally self-congratulatory.
She pulled her dark brown hair into a ponytail as she paced the apartment, sidestepping the guys who were moving everything in—she'd been prepped to hire professional movers, but the agents had insisted on helping out. She supposed it was their manly way of saying they were going to miss the Boys, too.
She nodded approvingly at the berber carpet, the high-ceilinged room, the large windows in the dining area that were flooding the apartment with faded winter light. The place was gradually filling with boxes, boxes that would soon be unpacked, their wares just waiting to be arranged. Like the finishing touches on a particularly fine piece of work.
Manning the front desk of Evil was her day job, a job that she was damn good at. But interior design was her passion.
A familiar stampede of noise echoed in the hall outside, and within seconds it had burst into the apartment.
“Dude!” Butch cackled. “Bitchin' place!”
Boomer, his electric slung over his shoulder and the case that housed his acoustic in his hands, singled out the first bedroom door he laid eyes on and made a beeline for it.
“That one's mine,” he announced, pointing. “Neither of you other fuckers can take that one, I'm claiming it—”
“No, no, Boomer,” the woman called out, grasping him by the shoulder and gently guiding him around. “That one, there. Better acoustics.” He beamed at her.
“Thanks, Penny.”
“I can't believe we get our own rooms!” Butch stopped in front of her and grinned. “I could kiss you.”
“Chemical X doesn't lessen the burn of pepper spray in your eyes, Butch,” Penny said good-naturedly, allowing him a high five. She pointed. “I gave you the room with the biggest window. Easy to air out, you know.”
“You're the best. Have I mentioned how good you look in jeans?” he said, laughing, and went off to go inspect his room, slapping a box that read Boomer out of a guy's hands.
Penny smirked and turned back to the door, her eyes falling on Brick. Unlike his brothers, he hadn't come bounding in. He was standing just to one side of the entrance, scrutinizing their apartment with a look of distaste. She sighed and strolled up to him, dodging more boxes.
“Brick. Don't you like it? I went to a lot of work to get this place for you guys.”
“I wanted a loft,” he muttered.
“Don't be a brat,” she scolded, batting his temple. “You get your own room. The biggest one, in fact.”
He readjusted his hat; she'd messed it up some.
“Yay.”
“And you guys are going to have your privacy. The building's filled with nothing but single businessmen who work too much and don't socialize with their neighbors.”
He looked up and said, “The ceiling's pretty high. Waste of energy to heat this place.”
“Well, you can fly up there yourself and make sure you utilize the space. And since when do you care about conserving energy?”
“Penny.” Brick looked at her, suddenly seeming less like the agent he was and more like the teenager he was. “I don't wanna be here.”
She took a deep breath and refrained from reaching out a reassuring arm; he'd only back away from it, anyhow.
“Come on,” she said encouragingly, smiling. “Let me show you your room.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked to the end opposite from his brothers' rooms. Once inside she opened the blinds to throw in some daylight. After a minute, she heard Brick shuffle in behind her. She turned and grinned, pointing.
“Your bed's going here. I would've put it over there, but it'd throw the whole layout of the room off and you'd have to climb or fly over it any time you wanted to get to your shelves. So it's going here, we've got shelves going in on this wall, you've got this area set aside for whatever—if you want to set up your canvas here, you can do that—”
He paced the room, his gaze obediently following Penny's directions. He stopped by the windows, briefly, and peered through the blinds. Penny came up beside him and looked out over the buildings on Townsville's West Side.
“Lovely view, isn't it?”
Brick scowled.
“It sucks,” he grumbled.
“Come on, Brick. Work with me here. I mean, it's not the most glamorous city, granted, but—”
“You know this stupid vacation wasn't even Smith's idea?” he interrupted, face darkening at the memory. “He knew we didn't 'need' one. He knew I didn't want one. You know who suggested it? Darius, that little... that good-for-nothing, worthless piece of shit, he runs a financial group or two and suddenly he thinks he can just jump into the fucking Lake of Evil Industry and make a mark! He suggested it! A fucking twentysomething who hasn't even been with the company for two years is on the board, telling me what to do! It'd be God damn hilarious if it wasn't so God damn irritating!”
Penny held her breath and bit back the impulse to point out that life was hardly fair, that life in any business wasn't any fairer, and that really, Darius might have been twentysomething, but Brick was seventeen. Seventeen and throwing tantrums about his elders, like any typical teenager. She knew better than to say all this out loud, though. She was just past her mid-twenties herself and had never raised a child, but she knew better.
She walked over to the end of the room, nearest the bathroom, and tapped the one piece of furniture that had already been moved in.
“Brick. Do you want to see your desk? I had the guys in Tech outfit it for you, especially.”
He stayed where he was, fuming and glaring at the desk as if it had done him some great personal injustice. After a second of waiting, Penny shrugged and spread her hands on its surface, tapping her fingers on the polished wood.
“Be careful about what you put on top. It's pretty sturdy, but there's some delicate equipment in here.” She reached underneath the desk, her hand guided by memory alone as there were no telltale marks to indicate where the console was. “The control pad is here. Access code is zero-four-nine-nine.”
Brick's curiosity outweighed his anger. He sidled over, kneeling to look under the desk. Penny outlined the console's area with a finger, and Brick reached up, sliding his hand across it.
“You can't even feel it,” he murmured.
“Pretty cool, huh? Even feels like wood.” She tapped in the combo and a large holographic screen flickered to life above the desk.
Brick stood, eyes widening a little in what might have been awe.
“Here. Don't blink.” Penny moved him to where she was standing, and a thin beam of light shot out to track across his eyes. “It even recognizes your voice. Go on and say your name.”
He glanced at her and obediently complied.
“Brick.”
A variety of windows instantly spread across the screen, and Penny touched a finger to one of them, then dragged it around the screen, pointing out where each window would take him—e-mail here, personal files here, a simple dictionary password hack program here (“For little things, you know, just trying to cover all your bases,” Penny said), and this one led to the communications console—
“And look, you can call us up anytime you like,” Penny said, tapping in the number to headquarters and waving at Paul when he picked up. “Hey, just testing it out.”
“Get back soon. I can't handle the phones like you,” he said, his statement punctuated by the familiar beeping of several calls coming in on the other lines. “Brick, have a good vacation.” Paul flickered off, and Brick navigated back to the main menu to explore more.
Penny let him play with it for a bit, then said, “So... like I said, you can call us up anytime you like. You know me, I'm always at the desk.”
Brick paused and looked at her.
“I shouldn't be able to call you up to talk to you. I should be able to walk down the fucking stairs and speak with you face to face.”
He shut off his glorified desktop and walked past her, back out into the living room. Penny heaved a sigh.
“How big is this thing?” Butch's voice echoed through the doorway. “Fifty inches? We got a fifty-inch TV?”
Boomer's elated voice joined him.
“This sound system is so killer, oh my God. Hook that up first so we can get some music going in here!”
Penny walked out to see the agents vainly trying to set things up with two boisterous superpowered teenage boys breathing down their necks. A few guys had just set down the couch, and Brick sat on it the second it was lowered to the floor. After glancing between him and his brothers, she clapped her hands.
“Brick! You and your brothers, go out and get us all some coffee.”
The boys all looked at her.
“What?”
“Quit messing around,” she said, flapping her hands at Boomer and Butch to shoo them from the TV and stereo. “Let the guys handle it. You three go out for a bit.”
“I have absolutely no desire to leave this room, unless it is to go back home,” Brick groaned, covering his eyes.
“I'm not sending your brothers out by themselves. You really think if I send those two out to get two gallons of coffee that I am actually going to get two gallons of coffee?”
“Penny!” Boomer cried, offended. “Don't you trust us?”
“I am so hurt by your words,” Butch said with a sniffle. “Comfort me in your bosom.”
“Watch it, jailbait,” Penny said flatly, and flicked the company credit card to Brick. “Here. Go out and get two gallons of coffee and a tall chai latte for me. Plus whatever you three want to drink. Take your time. As long as you're back in an hour and the drinks don't go cold, you can do whatever the hell you want.” After a pause, she added, “Except destroy the city.”
“Low profiles,” Butch nodded solemnly. “Gotcha.”
Everybody in the room went silent and stared at Butch. He looked around.
“What?”
“You're right,” Brick sighed, standing and pocketing the card. “I'd better go with them.”
***
“Nobody seems to recognize us,” Boomer observed as they walked down the street in the chilly winter air.
“That's good,” Brick reminded him.
“Naw, I was just... I thought some people might remember who we were, is all.”
“We could remind them,” Butch laughed, and Brick sensed the sudden crackle of energy in his brother's hand and whipped around, snatching him by the wrist.
“Don't even fucking think about it,” he growled, green sparks skittering across their hands. Butch scoffed.
“Relax, bro. I was just kidding.”
The green sparks stopped, and Brick let go. After getting in one more glare for good measure, he turned and continued to lead them down the street.
“Say, we got an hour. We probably don't need to get the coffee for another, like, forty-five minutes.” Boomer bounced up next to Brick. “Let's go do something!”
“Like what?” he grumbled.
“Scope out the honeys in the mall,” Butch answered, pointing across the street. Brick groaned.
“It's the fucking holiday season. You know how crowded that bastard's going to be?”
“Which means it's the perfect place to hide in plain sight and not attract attention, right?” Boomer said, slapping Brick on the back with one hand and snaking out the credit card with his other.
“Hey!”
Butch and Boomer were already diving into traffic, dodging the honking cars as they jaywalked—well, it was more of a jayrun—across the street to the mall.
Brick sighed and darted a longing glance at the coffeeshop they'd been approaching on the corner. Then he too made his way across the street, pausing to wait for the cars to pass.
Navigating the street was one thing, but navigating the mall parking lot was another thing entirely. It felt like hours before he made it through the entrance, and it had taken a supreme amount of self-control to not utterly destroy the vehicle of anyone who honked at him.
“Fucking city,” he muttered irritably as he slammed through the doors and spied his brothers inspecting a map. “Fucking holidays.”
“I need to go here,” Boomer said, pointing. “I left my capo at JS.”
“Well, I need to go here and stock up on some fucking horror. Fifty-inches of zombie coming at you? Hell yes.”
“You guys get to go to one place each,” Brick announced, snatching the credit card back. “And then we go get coffee.”
“Don't you want to go anywhere, Brick?” Boomer asked.
“Of course I do,” he said. “But I can't for another six friggin' months.”
As they started walking, Boomer continued, “You still sore about it, huh?”
“We didn't need a fucking vacation,” Brick said. Boomer shrugged.
“I think it's nice.”
“I think it's awesome,” Butch put in.
“It's an effort to get us away from the company,” Brick snarled, stepping aside to dodge a cluster of people laden with shopping bags. “The board wants us out.”
They want me out, he thought.
“You still on that, man?” Boomer asked.
“Darius doesn't want us around. He views us as a threat.”
Butch coughed and spit on the floor, ignoring the looks of shocked disgust people threw him.
“Darius is a prick, but come on—”
“I'm serious,” Brick muttered. “This isn't a vacation. This is banishment. We'd probably be 'vacationing' longer if we didn't have Smith on our side.”
“You're so negative!” Boomer exclaimed. “You're like a modern day teenage Scrooge with superpowers.”
Brick paused and closed his eyes, long enough to expel a slow sigh. His brothers hung back, waiting. After a second, he started walking again. Butch and Boomer exchanged a look, then Boomer bounded forward.
“Cheer up, bro. It's only six months.”
“You need a break, dude,” Butch added, coming up on his other side. “You stress about shit too much.”
Brick stopped and looked up.
“We're here.”
They glanced up to see the sign for Guitar God, and Boomer lit up, ducking inside as soon as Brick had handed off the credit card.
“I'm waitin' here!” Butch called after him.
“Same,” Brick said, turning and leaning his arms against the railing—they were on the second floor. He watched the scores of people milling around on the lower level with disdain. Happy, blithering sheep. This city especially was crawling with them.
He'd noticed it the moment they'd driven back in. Townsville wasn't like other cities. Its people were so God damn happy, so God damn stupid. For a place that had supposedly suffered from the worst crime rates in the nation just twelve years ago, they acted like they had never faced any hardship, never endured any heartbreak. They just went about their stupid, happy lives, with those stupid, happy faces, while three girls with superpowers ran around cleaning up their fucking messes.
They were stupid, too. Stupider, even.
Brick hated them and this city and its people and everything else one could possibly hate about Townsville. He would've leveled it on his way out five years ago if he'd known a fuckhead like Darius would have ordered him back.
Darius knew Brick hated it. He also knew the city was watched over by three superheroes, with whom the boys had a history. He and the entire board sans Smith had opted to send them to Townsville and ordered them to keep a low profile, with the full expectation that they would fuck up.
They knew Butch. They thought they knew Brick.
He was going to have to keep close tabs on his brother. He said he'd behave, but words didn't mean anything when it came to Butch.
Of course, once Brick was in charge, none of this would matter. But first Brick had to get there, which meant furthering his plan, which meant being at headquarters, which meant getting out of this Godforsaken city as soon as possible.
In the grand scheme of things, this new hurdle was hardly noteworthy. In Brick's grand scheme, it was another story.
“One day,” he sighed, and Butch joined him at the rail.
“One day, this will all be yours for the taking,” he bellowed in a mocking voice, the last part of his sentence collapsing into subdued laughter. Brick waited for him to finish.
“I'd wipe this stain off the planet if I could,” he muttered.
“Hey, once you're the man in charge, who's to say you can't?” Butch hoisted himself up so he was sitting on the railing, legs dangling over the edge. “Although, shit. The way it's going? Waiting until we're twenty-one to execute this master plan of yours?” He twisted, planted his feet against the rail, and, still grasping the banister, leaned back to watch the downstairs mall patrons upside down. “I don't think you can hold out that long, brother.”
“That makes two of us,” Brick said. A security guard on the first level spotted Butch and started waving. “Get your ass back over here. You're going to make a scene.”
Butch made a face, but obediently complied. Once he was back on solid ground, Boomer came running up, grinning as he pocketed his capo and handed the card back over to Brick.
“Sa-weet,” Butch sang, and pivoted. “My turn.”
“Nothing says Christmas like a giant stack of horror movies,” Boomer agreed. Brick trailed after them, and they all muscled their way onto the escalator going down.
Something caught Brick's attention as they moved, and he frowned, his muscles tensing. Beyond the almost deafening chatter of the crowds, there was this faint sound echoing in the distance that was oddly familiar...
They reached the first floor, took a second to get their bearings, and then Butch led them all in the direction of the nearest movie store. The sound that had arrested Brick's attention on the escalator began to build as they walked—whatever it was, they were getting closer, and he started to move ahead of his brothers, eager to discover what it was.
The claustrophobic space suddenly opened up before them, and Brick stepped into the wide, atrium-like center of the mall. A small stage had been set up on one end with speakers and blank television screens surrounding the area.
“Huh.” Boomer looked around. “They got some kind of event going on here?”
“Townsville Mall thanks you,” Butch read off the banner hanging on the stage backdrop.
“There was sound just a second ago,” Brick said, puzzled.
Butch hadn't finished.
“Powerpuff Girls.”
They discovered the TVs and speakers hadn't gone dead. The video was just restarting its cycle.
The A/V equpiment all suddenly exploded to life, color sparking across the screens and high energy music blasting out of the speakers.
Brick gaped as video clips of the girls' heroics—battles with criminals, monsters, familiar supervillains—assaulted his vision, the MTV-inspired fast cuts and editing numbing his brain.
“You have got to be shitting me,” he said incredulously.
“Damn right,” Butch said, a little glazed as he approached the screen. “The redhead is fucking smoking hot.” He turned back to his brothers. “How did a stubby little goody-two-shoes girl grow into that?! Talk about the right way to hit puberty!”
“Not bad,” Boomer said approvingly as the scene cut from a thwarted car chase to quick subjugation of a laser-wielding Mojo Jojo.
“Where the fuck did they get all this footage?” Brick squawked indignantly as it cut yet again to a monster attack. “Are you telling me they've got a fucking camera crew that follows them around for the sole purpose of putting promos together?!”
There was a sound byte of Blossom commanding her sisters, and Brick's muscles reflexively tensed again. Even five years later, his body was still conditioned to brace itself for an attack the second he registered her voice. That was what had sounded so familiar.
She still sounded like a self-righteous, bitchy know-it-all. Absolutely nothing had changed about this city.
“It looks like they're gonna be here in an hour,” Boomer said, gleaning the information off a sign, and Brick snapped to.
He grabbed Butch—who was about five seconds away from drowning in his own drool—and pointed him in the direction of his store.
“Let's move it,” he barked. “There's no fucking way I want to run into them today.”
“It's going to happen eventually,” Butch said (after swallowing). “What's the point in delaying me meeting my future wife-slash-sex-slave?”
“You had better be fucking joking,” Brick snarled, glancing back to make sure Boomer was on their tail. “Because I am not in the mood. To either meet them or listen to your asshattery.” He glanced back again to find Boomer had stopped and was waving at them.
“Guys! Check this out!”
“We gotta get going!” Brick snapped, but Butch was already moving back. Grumbling, Brick stalked over and snatched both his brothers by their collars. “I mean it—”
He halted, eyes widening as he took in the store display. Three giant banners were displayed in the windows of this shoe store, each featuring one of the girls full body from the chin down, their lips just visible at the top.
“They have a shoe deal!” Boomer said, sounding a little awed and as if he would very much like to endorse a shoe himself.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Brick cried.
Butch just stared at the center ad featuring Blossom and gurgled helplessly.
Brick swore and tore his eyes away, utterly disgusted. “This fucking city,” he said bitterly under his breath, and dragged his brothers away. The movie store was only a couple doors down, and he practically flung his brothers in there.
“Hurry up,” he snapped at Butch. “Get your movies and let's get the hell out of here.”
As Butch made for the Horror section with Boomer close behind, Brick kept a wary watch outside. Just their fucking luck. Potentially running into the girls their first day back was a good way to start off a return trip.
“Got 'em!”
Brick turned, mildly impressed.
“Already—”
He cut off as he took in the stack of DVDs approaching the counter, with his brother ostensibly behind it.
“What the hell do you need that many for?!”
“You wanna keep me outta trouble, don't you?” Butch retorted, setting the stack down on the counter. The guy at the register had to use a stepladder to get to the top one. Brick watched as the guy began to methodically scan each DVD.
After the fifth one he snapped, “Can't you go any faster?!”
“This is an old system, sir,” the cashier said in a bored tone, not looking up. He reached a DVD that wouldn't scan. He furrowed his brow and tried it a couple more times, then tapped the scanner. “Shoot. It's acting up again—”
Brick's temper flared, and he moved into the store like a shadow, dragging all the darkness with him. His brothers instantly moved out of his way as he leaned on the counter and pushed forward, making sure that when the cashier looked up, he could see his expression. His incredibly dangerous, unhappy expression.
The guy behind the counter went white and swallowed.
“Pick it up,” Brick snarled.
Having cowed the employee (and possibly the scanner as well) into submission, within ten seconds all of Butch's movies were accounted for and bagged, plus a magazine Butch threw in at the last minute.
“Thank you,” Brick said in a voice that sounded less like an expression of gratitude and more like a threat. “Now let's go.”
“Aw,” Boomer whined, pouting as they started to head back out into the mall. “It hasn't even been an hour yet—”
“Bubbles! We have to get moving! We're here for publicity purposes, not to go shopping!”
A horrified Brick skidded to an immediate stop, grabbing his brothers to keep from moving further. The familiar voice of a self-righteous, bitchy know-it-all was rapidly approaching, flanked by her sisters, and headed directly for their store.
He swore and ducked back into the store, yanking his brothers along with him. He dragged them past the bewildered cashier and down several aisles, desperate for a place to hide. He settled on the documentary aisle and hunched down, motioning at his brothers to do the same as the girls entered the store, still bickering.
“But we still need a present for the Professor!” the blonde protested. “We don't have to go on for another forty-five minutes. We can squeeze in some shopping, at least—”
“Bubbles is right,” the scowling, dark-haired girl said. “Christmas is a freakin' week away. We're running out of time.”
The redhead sighed. Brick couldn't believe that even at, what, sixteen? Seventeen? She was still wearing that ridiculous bow.
“Fine. But only for fifteen minutes! We need at least half an hour to prep before we go up on stage.”
“It won't even take five,” the blonde giggled, and trotted over to an aisle. “Now let's see... where to start...”
“A documentary, maybe,” their leader suggested, and a jolt of irritation shot through Brick as he glanced up at the genre of the aisle he and his siblings were hiding in.
“Ooh! That's a good idea—”
Brick could see them coming and motioned hastily at his brothers to back out over into the next aisle. They ducked in just as the blonde came around the corner to browse.
“What kind of documentary, do you think?” she asked as her sisters joined her.
Butch made a strangled little noise as he peered at the redhead's back, and Brick shot him a deadly look.
“Something science-related...”
“Okay, whatever,” the dark-haired girl said, bored. “I'm going to check out the Horror.”
Brick paused and looked up at the genre of their aisle. His eye twitched.
Then he was dragging his brothers into the next aisle over as she came around.
“Dang. Someone cleared this section out.”
“Buttercup, this is a group present! You ought to help us pick one out!”
“Chill out, Blossom. Boxed set of that nature show. There. Now you have my suggestion.”
“They're out,” the blonde said sadly.
“Yeah, we've probably waited too long to get it,” Buttercup said, flipping through some DVDs. “I'll bet you can't even find it online anymore.”
Brick wanted to slit his own throat. They couldn't find what they'd come in for! Did they have to freaking talk about it? Why wouldn't they just leave?
“We don't have to get him a documentary. What about an action flick? Or a romcom?”
As Brick looked up, his heart sinking as he took in their aisle's genre, Bubbles squealed, “Oh yeah! There's this chick flick I've been meaning to get—”
This was getting ridiculous. The boys scrambled into the next aisle as Bubbles bounced over.
“Girls. No. We're supposed to be shopping for the Professor! If this is all you're going to do, then let's go get ready! You'll both have time to goof off afterwards.”
Listen to her, he thought frantically. Please, PLEASE listen to her...
“All right, Red. Let's go, Bubbles.” Buttercup set her DVD down and made for the doors. Over on the other side, Bubbles mumbled something, then dutifully followed.
Brick inwardly sighed, relieved.
Then Boomer accidentally kicked Butch's bag and sent a slew of DVDs cascading onto the floor in the aisle, catching the girls' attentions before they could leave.
Brick's eyes were glowing red and murderous as he glared at his brothers, who instantly pointed at each other in silence.
“Huh.” They heard Buttercup approaching, and they started to scoot back as quietly as they could.
“What's wrong, Buttercup?” Bubbles said from the opposite end of the aisle, and the boys immediately stopped. They were surrounded; there hadn't been enough time for Bubbles to make it to her sisters' side of the store, and now she was doubling back, closing in on the last aisle where the boys were. They had nowhere else to go.
Brick turned to his brothers and motioned: I am going to strangle you both to death by each other's intestines when we get home.
There was a rustle from Buttercup's end of the aisle, and they watched a hand reach for one of the DVDs, the top of her head cresting into view as Bubbles' footsteps came closer, nearly upon them—
The sudden trill of three superheroes' cell phones going off echoed in the store. The footsteps stopped, and the hand and top of a dark head of hair disappeared from their vision.
Three voices asked simultaneously, “Mayor?”
There was a rumble then, one that was faint and undetectable to the average human, but six boys and girls in a movie store felt it. The girls dashed out in streaks of blue, green, and pink, the colors flashing briefly against the windows in the store.
The boys waited a minute or so. Then Brick stood up and heaved a sigh.
“Whoo! That was a close one!” Boomer said brightly as he stood. For some reason the sound of his voice just then gave Brick a huge headache. Butch collected his fallen loot and tossed it back in the bag.
“Crisis averted! What now?”
“Coffee,” Brick announced in a grim voice. “Then an aspirin. Then—” He glared at both his brothers again, his lip curling ever-so-slightly. “Strangling to follow.”
***
“You're back! Wow, you boys certainly took advantage of that hour.”
“The last time I act out of brotherly charity,” Brick groused. He carried both gallon boxes of coffee under his arms, with Penny's chai latte clutched in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.
“Water, Brick? Is that all you got?”
“I've got a headache. Bad time for coffee.”
Penny glanced at Butch, carrying another gallon box.
“Oh, you got three gallons? I thought I only asked for two.”
“You did,” Butch answered. “This is mine.” She rolled her eyes.
“Yes, you and your addictions. How silly of me to forget.”
“Remind me never to let you get your hands on any cocaine,” Brick grumbled at his brother.
“Cocaine is a hell of a drug,” Boomer said in a low, mocking voice, and at the looks people threw at him, he cried indignantly, “What? Are you kidding me? You guys never watched Chappelle's Show?”
“Here Brick, I'll grab that,” one of the guys said, and took both boxes away, over to the kitchen. “Coffee, boys!”
As agents emerged like ants out of the woodwork, lured by the promise of caffeine, Penny graciously accepted her chai from Brick.
“Thank you, sir.”
“You're welcome. Can I go home now?”
“Let's keep your three wishes within the realm of possibility here.”
Brick twisted his cap open.
“How about an aspirin, then?”
Penny went in search of her purse and dug around in it for a bottle as Brick chugged some water.
“Here.”
“You guys set up the sound yet? It's time for some music. Where're all my CDs?”
“Still in the boxes in your room, Boomer,” Penny told him.
“You guys look like you're almost done,” Brick said, looking around the apartment. Most everything in the living room was unpacked.
“Come on. Compliment me on my superb interior design skills,” she preened.
Brick looked around, his eyes halting briefly on Butch and their co-workers in the kitchen, all of them laughing as Butch chugged coffee out of the spigot of his box. He turned back to Penny.
“Please tell me that guy gets his own bathroom.”
Avril Lavigne began blasting through the speakers, which did absolutely nothing for Brick's headache.
“Boomer!” he snapped. “What the hell?! I destroyed all your copies of her albums before we left!”
“I stocked up at the music store when you weren't looking.”
“Kill it before I kill you!”
“That reminds me, when is the strangling supposed to be happening?” Boomer queried. “Can I pencil you in at five? You've gotta give me some time to unpack first.”
The music suddenly died with a warble, and Penny stood up from where she had unplugged the system.
“Boomer, be nice to your brother. He's homesick.”
“I am not homesick,” Brick snarled.
“Do you want to be here?” she asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to go home?”
“...Yes.”
She shrugged and said, “Sounds like a textbook case of homesickness to me.”
The aspirin was also doing absolutely nothing for his headache.
“Here,” Penny was saying. “Let's watch some TV instead—”
“This magazine has the girls' shoe ads in it!” Butch exclaimed triumphantly, then settled on a page as the guys peered over his shoulder. “See this? This is the new love of my life. I want to lick her.”
“Who?” Penny looked at Brick as the TV flickered to life behind her. “Who's he talking about?”
Brick shook his head, not deigning to answer, but paused as he caught sight of the image on their television.
“There she is,” Boomer said, pointing. There was a scuffle in the kitchen, then Butch zipped into the living room and began pawing at the TV.
Brick watched in silence as some inane interview took place.
“Oh, the monster was no trouble at all,” she was saying. “All in a day's work, you know!”
“Some timing, huh?” the woman interviewing her said. “On a day when you're being honored for saving the mall from massive destruction by Mojo Jojo's Giant Robo Jojo—”
Brick would never understand that chimp's penchant for ridiculous names for his toys.
“Believe me, it's a pleasure for me and my sisters—there's really no need for all this ceremony about it! We're happy to help people. It's what we do.”
“Somebody unpack the ice pick,” Brick announced, “and stab it into my temple.”
“You'd ruin the ice pick,” Penny pointed out.
“Then douse me in Antidote X, and then stab me.”
“God, that girl's got a gorgeous mouth, doesn't she?” Butch said lustily.
“Do we even have an ice pick?” Boomer asked.
Brick stared at the screen as she continued to blather on. How noble. How heroic. How fucking charitable. What a gracious use of your powers, to use them for the good of the people.
The mere sight of her disgusted him.
And in less than three weeks they'd be attending the same school. They were already in the same city. Fucking perfect.
He didn't belong here. He didn't belong in this farce of a city, with its stupid happiness and stupid heroes and stupid fucking villains who never realized their potential, villains who clung to the destruction of heroic symbols for a city that wasn't even worth the time of day.
Brick had been such a stupid kid once, to want that, too.
There were nations out there, a whole fucking world for the taking. And even if any of them realized it, these ridiculous villains in Townsville would've wanted a gaudy throne to sit on. There was no cunning, no intricate planning, no realization that one could take over the world without visibly taking over. They were so closed-minded. They didn't get it. None of them did.
Not even Him had. And Him was Evil Incarnate.
Him wasn't interested in the world. None of them were, really. At the end of the day, all Townsville's stupid villains ever wanted to do was run around with little girls.
He stared and stared at her. Chasing her? Fighting her? A fucking enormous waste of time.
The Powerpuff Girls weren't worth the world. And this one, this fucking Saint here? Definitely wasn't worth it.
Brick watched her on that screen, a benevolent ruler addressing her people, assuring her people. His lip curled.
This was going to be a fantastic fucking six months.
-end Ch. 6a-
Only a few hours left to request Valentines of me. Deets here.