So I finally decided to get this idea out of my head and on to Fanfiction! Hope you enjoy it :)


Let's hop right into it, yeah?

"Brick," Butch hovers over his brothers bed; arms folded, feet dangling. He unpleasantly floats in mid-air. "We're gonna be late," he sounds displeased and tired, almost as if he's put up with this for years. Irritated, he removes the blankets from his brother's bed. Brick shoots up, his hair askew, and his tone approaching anger.

"What the fuck, man?" Brick attempts to reach for the blanket, only to watch his brother fly back. "Dude. Stop." he combs his fingers through his red hair, releasing a sigh. "The 'thing' doesn't start until one-thirty!"

"Hmph," Butch plants himself on the floor. He leans in, pointing a thumb to the clock. "One twenty-seven." He then watches Brick scramble out of bed, tripping over to the closet. Butch laughs, "This is you though, you're always late." He walks over to his brother, placing a finger into the elastic band of Brick's boxers, pulls it back, and lets it snap. Brick steps to the side, hiding a glare. He slips a shirt over his shoulders and begins to button it up.

"How'd you get in my apartment?"

Butch turns Brick around, finishing the buttons for him. "Twenty-two years old and still leaves a key under the mat." Brick feels a little bit insulted.

"Give it." The red-haired lifts a hand, stretching his palm. Butch laughs, handing him a small silver key. Brick shoots another look before slipping on his jeans. "And you didn't call first, because...?"

"Ah, broke my damn phone." Butch shakes his bangs out of his eyes, shrugging. The two proceed to the hall, Brick stops in front of a mirror.

"Hmm, you either threw it against a wall, dropped it in water, or crushed it in your hand." Brick messes with his hair, pleased with the new shortened look.

"All of the above."

"Anger issues, I see." Brick teases. Butch forces a laugh. He grabs the red cap, that had been carelessly thrown on a table, and places it on his brother's head and yanks it over the eyes.

"Good guess. Try the bitch who calls me twenty-four seven."

"Ah, Princess." Brick teases again. "Never gives you a break." He fixes the cap by placing it backwards.

"Not even to take a piss." Butch jogs over to the fridge, helping himself to whatever's available.

"And you won't dump her because-"

"While her daddy's still alive, making money, I'm not going anywhere." He tosses a water bottle to Brick.

"Good plan." Brick's sarcasm was stronger than it needed to be.

The two drive for a while across town. Brick shifts uncomfortably while sitting in the passenger seat of Butch's Lamborghini. It baffles the mind of how he can afford it. Brick has no transportation of his own, flying usually does the trick. He breathes steadily, watching Butch grip the steering wheel, probably trying to ease the awkward tension. "So, uh, how is he?" Brick cracks the silence.

"Boomer? Oh he's doing fine, you know... since you saw him five days ago." Butch pokes at his brother's concern. Brick ignores it.

"Did he agree to see Dr. what's-her-face?"

"Dr. Jennings? No, as usual. Can't see why though, she's pretty hot." Butch states the last part under his breath. Brick forces himself to focus on anything other than this topic. It's been about a year, and Boomer still refuses to receive any kind of help from anyone. When they were seventeen Mojo Jojo passed away. This killed Boomer. It was the only father figure they had, and he was gone before anything could be done. Boomer became quiet. Isolated himself, and was usually depressed all the time. HIM, as replacement helped fuel the fire. Boomer was just angry, angry at everything. He snapped at everyone. His brothers tried, but he avoided and refused treatment. Boomer's life is a routine now. Wake up, go to work, come home, go to sleep. Repeat. His relationship with anyone is useless. He just sits and waits for the day to come. That day is today.

The Lamborghini parks in front of a townhouse, Brick rolls down his window, revealing Boomer leaning up against the porch. "Yo Boomer!" Butch hollers from inside the car, "Whose funeral you goin' to?" He comments on Boomer's formal attire. He wears a white button up shirt, a simple tie, and black slacks. The two in the car watch Boomer's expression change from neutral to irritated. "Uh-oh, it might be our funeral." Butch nudges Brick's shoulder.

Boomer slips off the curb, stepping in front of the window. "You're late." Brick opens the door, steps out, and pushes the seat forward. He looks at Boomer, smiling a bit.

"We know. Get in." He ruffles the blond's hair, admiring how well his brother can clean up for certain events. Brick climbs in as well, shutting the door. He pulls down the passenger mirror to find Boomer gazing out the window, with that same neutral look. "So why are you all dressed up?"

It's silent for a moment too long. "It's a special day." Boomer replies, ending the conversation that barely even started.

An abandoned barn appears in the peripheral of the boys. It was on the outskirts of town, and despite their skepticism, this location was correct. Butch was the first to get out. He glances at his vehicle then walks around the hood. "Goddammit." The ground and now his car were covered in dirt and black rubble. He turns to face the barn. It was falling apart and disgusting. Brick seemed to notice too. He smirks.

"Looks like you chose a bad day to dress up." Brick throws an arm around Boomer, tugging at the now wrinkled shirt. Boomer shoves him off.

"Whatever, let's go." The blond walks ahead of the others, reaching the door of the barn, in which Brick helps him push open. Inside, it reveals stairs that only lead so far down to where the light can't reach. Brick pulls out his phone, assisting to the visibility.

"This is the place, yeah?"

"Definitely." Butch trots ahead. When he reaches far enough, the old, rotted-down, wooden steps merge with a new shiny floor that continues through a closed door. "This is it." Brick and Boomer meet up with him. Butch opens the door, and realizes the decor gives away too much.

"Hello boys." The familiar masculine voice, with a touch of femininity, rings through their ears. The figure sits in a huge crimson chair, facing a fireplace. The boys shuffle in, closing the door. They all stand side by side, feeling the disappointment radiate off their long-time guardian. "I said one-thirty." A claw peeks out from behind the chair.

"Sorry," Butch begins with his usual charm, "Brick overslept, and we had to get Boomer-"

"No excuse, I see." The figure turns around, unfolding and recrossing his long legs. He reveals himself to the boys. "You know what today is. The plan begins, and you have the decency to blow it off, as if none of my work has gone into it." HIM states, faking a heartbreak. The boys remain silent. HIM lets his lips stretch into a gruesome smile. He lifts himself off the chair, walking towards his precious babies. He approaches Boomer first, softly caressing his cheek. Brick watches goosebumps spread all over his brother's arm and neck. The blond swallows, avoiding contact. HIM uses a claw to lift his chin. "You look handsome today, Boomer. Well done."

"Thank you." His response was hollow and dead. Frankly, it made Brick feel uncomfortable. HIM steps in front of Brick as if his thoughts could be heard from miles away.

"Still wearing that thing I see." HIM tugs on the red cap, "It suits you. So does the shorter hair." The forced complements are unnecessary. Brick doesn't respond. Butch scoffs, folding his arms. HIM eyes the raven-haired for a lingering moment. "I suppose you're angry at me for forcing you to come here on a Saturday." He teases, watching Butch soften. HIM takes a breath. "Boys I hope you know that with your help, this plan is going to work. A plan you might take into consideration. Considering it involves The Powerpuff Girls." All three boys stare as if HIM wasn't already insane.

Seven years. Seven damn years since any contact with the girls. "Let's begin."

It sounded crazy. It was crazy. Hold the girls hostage for two months. The boys contemplate this plan they've agreed to, no more detail than that except for a few rules. Hold the girls hostage for two months. The three of them ride in silence for a while. Each of them knew what they were all thinking. Hold the girls hostage for two months.

"So, if we get them, where do we keep them?" Boomer states the question they were all curious about. Saying it out loud was odd and uncomfortable.

Brick watches Butch grip the wheel, "I don't think we should keep them together," Butch pitches in, "they have to be separate." Brick scoffs, he just wanted to get home, not capture some brats that haven't done anything to them. He knows it'd be easier if HIM did it himself anyway.

"Are you guys serious?" Brick turns to face his brothers. "They're not a threat to us anymore. We stopped bothering them, and the town, remember?" About seven years ago, they just stopped. They acted normal and would lie low. The Powerpuff Girls? Seriously? The words "hero" and "villain" just sound childish. Brick furrows his brows. Townsville treats the girls like washed up celebrities, appearing in the paper every once in a while. This is ridiculous.

"HIM suggests we bring them into our homes." Boomer could barely be heard from the back. He was probably talking to himself. Butch laughs,

"Yeah, no. I'm not bringing some Puff into my house like a pet." Butch parks in front of the townhouse.

"How the fuck do we even do that?" Brick unbuckles his seatbelt. He opens the door, steps out, and moves the seat forward. Boomer tries to scurry away, only to have Brick grab his arm. "Hey," he pulls Boomer close, matching his eyes. "You alright?" Boomer's breath hitches at his brother's soft words. The warm temperature outside was having an effect on the blond, as Brick could see small beads of sweat on his forehead and around the freckles on his cheeks.

"...I'm fine." Boomer shakes his arm free, heading towards his home. Brick watches until his brother is safely inside, then he forces himself back into the car.

"We have until Wednesday." Butch continues the previous conversation, spitting the words. "But I'm not bringing one into my house." Brick agrees, but he's in no position to argue.

"We all have to do the plan, so it'd probably just be easier if we do what HIM suggested." Brick sounded reluctant. Butch squeezes the wheel again. "You'll take Buttercup and-"

"Fuck that."

Brick eyes his brother. He wonders if Boomer had heard, he might've laughed for once. "Dude, get over it."

"Switch me." Butch tries. Brick rolls his eyes. "You take Butterbitch, and I'll take Blossom."

"You'll be fine." Brick now finds the situation amusing, "They don't hold grudges. Well, Blossom and Bubbles don't." Butch releases a tired noise at the comment. He begins to drive. "HIM said he'd take care of most of it. Who knows, if you put on your charm, she'll probably fall into your arms... or your bed." Butch slams on the breaks, causing the seat belt to engulf Brick. Butch grabs the back of his brother's neck with one hand, pretending to strangle him.

"That's not fucking funny." They both end up laughing anyway. Butch accidentally knocks Brick's cap off and their laughter dies in the process. Butch finds his hand combing through his brother's hair. He yanks on it, harshly, then continues combing. "The short look is good for you." Brick pushes the hand away from his locks.

"So I've heard." Butch smiles at the comment, turning to face the road.

There you have it, chapter one!