Author's Note: I wanted to attempt a Powerpuff Girls fanfic, so here it is. Kind of weird, very…well, weird. Reviews are much appreciated. Yay.

Disclaimer: All this stuff I'm writing about does not belong to me in any way. Please don't sue me.

Chapter 1 – Looking Back

It's Monday night here in Lakeville, and I –

The narrative cut short before its first sentence had even finished, ended by the untimely demise of the pen with which Blossom wrote. Blue-black ink spilled over the wrinkly pages of her wire-back notebook, consuming the scribbly words she had just placed amid the lines and lines marching across the paper like proper soldiers. Lakeville Soldiers. Scoffing, she tossed the pen aside, making a mental note to dispose of it later. In the meantime, she had to crumple up the ruined slip of paper and toss it away with the deceased pen. She had to continue. She had to get the words out. Grabbing a pencil and starting on a new piece of paper, she started again.

It's Monday night here in Lakeville, and I am writing this out of desperation. It's a mixture of fear for my life and fear that if I don't put the words down I'll forget everything. Though I usually have a brilliant memory, it seems that Lakeville exists only to sap the mental capacity of its inhabitants. I – wait. I have to start from the beginning.

My name is Blossom Kravitz, and I'm seventeen years old. I attend School District #1022, and I am afraid. My real name isn't Kravitz, it's Utonium. The Professor had it changed when we came here, to protect us. I'm sorry. My Dad had it changed when we came here, to protect us. We were going to change out first names, too, but couldn't bring ourselves to do so. My name became a part of me over the expanse of my meteoric life. Changing it would be to change me. Even if it means danger, I'm keeping my first name.

We had to change a lot, you know. My Dad forged us birth certificates, all of us. Fake hospitals, fake nurses, fake everything. There was even a fake mother and a fake death certificate. They had fakely lived together for years before she died of a fake, yet tragic stroke. We're fake triplets. Fake children with a fake father.

My two sisters and I grew up in a lovely city called Townsville. Well, for the most part. It's difficult to say when we started, as we weren't exactly born. Not conventionally, at any rate. Our Dad created us in his basement lab – we are the products of an explosion. Because of an extra ingredient, instead of just being the lovely girls we are, we also have super abilities. It's been a long time since we've experimented, but I'm sure we still have it in us. Somewhere, at least. It could be hard to find after so long, I don't know.

Oh, I'm straying from the subject. The story. We were 'born' and raised in Townsville in a time when people loved us. We saved them, we befriended them, we were their heroes. Even though we were small and young, people emulated us. There were parades, feasts, many things in our honor. That's when our beloved Mayor was alive. After his death from a sudden cardiac arrest, Townsville fell under horrid control. We still don't know who all is running this place, since they keep their names and faces under tight wraps, in case somebody gets pissed off enough to actually try and kill them. As if. The thing is, they want us to hate and fear them. Makes their job easier. When you begin to hate something faceless, that hatred begins to spill out and contaminate everything else. Since this government can pinpoint that hatred on a particular group, say, those with powers, it can better carry out its personal agenda.

It hates and fears us as much as we hate and fear it. At the height of the Powerpuff Girls' popularity, somebody got angry. It isn't anybody we know, since all those people are either dead or in hiding like us. The people we knew wanted to destroy just us, not everybody like us. When we were popular, somebody saw us as a menace. Because scientists all over began trying to replicate the Powerpuff Girls, trying to replicate the Rowdyruff Boys, trying to get their piece of the pie. It got to be too much. Entire cities were razed by children with powers beyond their control. It was an outrage. Somebody wanted to fix it.

And so, the Mayor's death was used as an opportunity to conquer Townsville and all surrounding cities. I say I live in Lakeville, but I'm probably in another ancient, repainted city. Townsville is now a district, just like the place I live in now. Lakeville is everything. It's strange how some things change and some things don't. While you can't escape Lakeville, most people don't want to. It's nice for them. They have their Districts, they have their economy. Public school is still public school, college is still college. It's nothing like the worlds Orwell and Huxley wrote about, but that's just to the normal person.

In Lakeville, any signs of being out of the ordinary are found immediately and exploited. The government wants to kill us all. They disappear, like chocolates plucked from a Valentine's Day gift box. Gone. Never to be seen again. I heard that Mojo Jojo was executed earlier this month, but I couldn't be sure. Normal people don't talk about such unsavory matters, but it's lifeblood for us.

Listen to me…'us…' Like a forgotten race. It doesn't matter too much, I guess. My sisters and I are still alive and well. The only others we have seen are the former Rowdyruff Boys. We don't pay much mind to one another, mainly because if we did, people would get suspicious. Luckily, nobody's looked into our pasts too much. We all came from Townsville when the Mayor died and the laws were passed, to get away from people that could point us out. Yes, we harbored the boys for a while. It's strange how –

Cut off again, though her pencil was still healthy. Couldn't say the same thing about the pen, but it was a lost cause anyway. What mattered was that her door had opened. Since moving to District #1022, the girls had gotten their own bedrooms. It was less of a 'growing apart' thing and more of a 'teenage girls want all the space they can get' thing. Well, maybe it was 'growing apart.' Though she wouldn't admit it, Blossom had gotten more distant over the past year. They all had. Maybe it was the growing sense of doom in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was knowing that they were wanted dead, really dead, by people with neither names nor faces. It was different from before. Now, she was scared.

A blonde ponytail hung in the room. Just a ponytail. The rest of the person it was supposedly connected to had stopped in the hallway, leaving the door just open enough for the ponytail to slip through but closed enough to keep Blossom from seeing its body. However, it was easy to tell who the ponytail belonged to. What other blondes lived in the Kravitz household? Just one. "Yeah? Yeah, I know." A giggle. The ponytail wiggled like a happy snake, or maybe a monkey's tail. A feathery monkey tail. "Look, I have to go, okay? I'll call you back, I promise." Yet another giggle. Did she ever run out of them? Her ponytail must be getting tired. "Okay. Okay. Yeah. Love you!" There was a kissy sound, and then a dial tone. Sighing, Bubbles pushed the door open, rolling her baby blue eyes and looking to her sister. As puberty started and just kept going, the three girls ended up looking quite different. Bubbles was the tallest one by far, stopping about two inches shy of six feet. Her blonde hair was long as ever, constantly tied into two lavish ponytails on either side of the crown of her pretty little head. Though she wasn't an idiot, she could play one well, mainly because she was the second captain of Public School District #1022's Cheerleading Squad. Her constant training kept her slim over the years, with a slim figure that looked great in a miniskirt. Smacking her glossy lips together, Bubbles tilted her head and stared at Blossom for a second before actually saying anything. "Blossom…uh…could I ask you a question? Pretty please with sugar lumps on top?" Though she had grown up, Bubbles was the same little girl her sisters had always known.

Smiling lightly, Blossom nodded. Nodding felt different these days. It was probably because she could now feel the very tips of her hair brushing against her neck as she did so. Yes, it was true. After so many years of having long, glorious hair, Blossom had finally decided to chop it off. It was a difficult decision, but one that she still stood by even though her family failed to recognize her for a while. The cut really was cute, reaching halfway down her neck, nearly touching her shoulders. A side-sweep framed her pretty, calm face cleanly. "What's on your mind?" As she asked her innocent question, she reached up and absently brushed a few strands of her carrot ginger hair out of her face so that she could more easily see her fidgety sister.

"Uh…well…" Bubbles started, clasping and unclasping her hands while looking at the ground. This was exactly what she used to do back when they were little and she had done something wrong. It really was unsettling. Back then, something wrong was usually a broken cookie jar or an adopted kitten. Now, something wrong could range anywhere from those innocent mistakes to something large, like slipping. Blossom's throat tightened. "I just had a question…about…" Smacking her lips together, she absently twirled a pigtail around her pointer finger, grinding the ball of her right foot into Blossom's floor as she began looking to the ceiling, as if searching for what she was going to say. "Well…just…" Blossom had to fight to stay in her chair. This girl could be so frustrating sometimes. Out with it, Bubbles, out with it! "A little question about Boomer…" After saying his name, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists, as if waiting for Blossom to explode.

In a sense, Blossom did explode. Her eyes widened, staring at her sister. How many times had they gone over this? Her arms fell limply at her sides, dangling beside the seat of her desk chair as her shoulders hunched forward, curling inwards. After a moment, she animated again, back straightening and carrying her upwards to stand, pout-stance at the ready, with her hands on her well-defined hips and her elbows akimbo. "How many times have we gone over this?" She asked, trying to keep her voice down despite the fact that a lecturing tone was starting to creep in. "We came from Townsville because somebody wanted us killed. They stayed with us for two weeks when we were twelve. Add up Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup, Brick, Boomer, and Butch along with the colors. It's not hard. Especially if anybody were to recognize us. We can't associate with any of them. It's too dangerous."

Sighing, arms falling limp at her sides, Bubbles nodded dumbly. What a bummer. "I'm sorry, Blossom. It's just…woah. You don't have to cry about it. It's okay, I haven't done anything, I promise!" She squealed, stepping forward and putting her hands on her sister's shoulders, looking down at the redhead. Indeed, Blossom's eyes were red and tearing, salty droplets of water collecting in the pits near her nose.

"I'm not crying…" Blossom murmured, looking upwards and blinking rapidly. "It's my contacts, they're hurting." Since Blossom's eyes were a very distinctive pink and she couldn't easily pass herself off as an albino, The Professor had ordered a pair of hazel contacts for her to wear. He had done the same for Brick before the boys left their home, just to be safe.

"Oh!" The blonde exclaimed, letting go of Blossom and turning to the shorter girl's desk, rummaging about in the first drawer she could open. "Where's your solution?"

Wincing, Blossom tried to close her eyes painlessly and failed. "Second from the top on the right-hand side. Ow." This was the opposite of fun.

After about ten seconds of agony, Bubbles had found the bottle and stood up quickly, placing one hand lengthwise along Blossom's jaw gently, holding her in place. "Okay, Blossom, relax." Relax? How the Hell was she going to relax? Her eyes were on fire! Okay, maybe not, but the comparison was rather accurate. Luckily, Bubbles had a steady hand and a tolerance for squirming, unhappy people, and soon the drops had soothed her pains. Sighing happily, Bubbles stepped back and clasped her hands before her, tilting her head sweetly. "You okay?"

"Ah…aaaaah…" With a content sigh, Blossom closed her eyes and relaxed. Her shoulders slumped, knees bent lightly, and it was practically sleepy time for little miss red-head. "Thank you…" She murmured, swaying on her feet. Why this sudden exhaustion? Maybe the pain in her eyes had been building up, culminating in that irritation and stopped by Bubbles. Maybe Bubbles was there to send her off to sleep. Or maybe Blossom looked way too deeply into everything.

Fearing that her sister would fall, Bubbles stepped forward and pulled Blossom against her gently, feeling the redhead's cheek rub against her neck. Poor Blossom. Everybody in the Kravitz household had noticed her acting a little funny lately, but they weren't sure. Maybe it was uncertainty for the future, or maybe they were projecting their own discomforts on an easy source. Who knew? But what mattered at the moment was that Blossom got some sleep. Scooping the voluptuous redhead (oh, the clichés those girls found themselves trapped in) up in her arms, Bubbles carefully walked over to the bed pushed against the room's far corner. Blossom stirred, but soon fell silent once she had been placed on the top of her sheets. Not sure she wanted to cover her up, Bubbles stepped back, admiring her handiwork. "Good night, Blossom." She said quietly, waggling her fingers in a 'goodbye' before turning and exiting the room.