Disclaimer: I don't own PowerPuff Girls.

A/N: Enjoy.

There were no words to describe her pain. Only a dull blade and a scar.

She pulled her legs to her chest, burying her nose between the pristine white tights. Inhaled. They still smelled like him, like the fabric softener he would pour over their clothes and inevitably onto himself. She used to giggle when he did that. Laundry day would ultimately turn into a special playtime for them – just the two of them. Her sisters preferred doing other chores with the Professor, leaving Bubbles to enjoy his company all by herself.

As she reflected on those precious moments, the tears came again. They flowed down her cheeks, following the same tired path they had long since worn into her pale skin. If this constancy of pain continued, the trails would become permanent. Then the world would know by her face how cruel it could be.

Bubbles sobbed softly, pulling in little gasps of breath that hitched on the ghosts of the wails she couldn't seem to rid from her body. That first night had left her speechless, her throat ragged and mangled, with the occasional clot of blood hacked up from the insatiability of her agony. No monster she had ever faced had done so much damage to her body as this single moment of tragedy, which continued to destroy her inside and out.

In the distance, a building exploded, alerting her to some calamity ensuing in Townsville. Bubbles wiped her face against her leg, hoping it would be enough to dry up the majority of her tears. She still had a job to do, even though it would never be as thrilling as it had been before the day her father died.

"Oh hell," Blossom cursed, looking up from the mess of papers strewn about the kitchen table. The Hotline phone was ringing again. "Is it too much to ask for some time off?" she griped. The paperwork had shown up the week following the Professor's death. Who knew there would be so many documents to fill out on a dead person? And all of it was time-sensitive. Did people not realize how difficult it was to focus on legal matters while grieving the loss of a parent? Furthermore, she was barely 18, and since the Professor had never felt the need to explain all this stuff to his children or even where to find the required information, she was stuck figuring everything out herself. It was a nightmare. Her sisters were certainly no help, not that she faulted them for that. She had always been the brains of the trio, and even she was baffled by the sheer amount of things the insurance company and federal government needed to know before proceeding with whatever it was they did that allegedly would make her loss more manageable. Rubbing her temples, she stood and answered the phone. "Yes, Mayor?"

It was Ms. Bellum. "Blossom, I'm so sorry to ask this of you, but…"

"I'll get right on it, Ms. Bellum. Thank you." She hung up the phone and flew off.

Blossom knew there was no point calling for either of her sisters. Ever since that day, she was the only one who spent time in the house anymore. Bubbles usually returned in time for dinner. Buttercup… well, who really knew? Blossom figured she would arrive on scene to find that Buttercup had already dismantled whatever monster was terrorizing the town this time. Bubbles would probably show up sometime later, covered in mud or grass or something that let her sisters know she was at least trying to work through this.

She couldn't blame Bubbles for her lethargy. After all, the poor dear had received the brunt of the attack. Blossom shuddered at the memory and pushed it aside to deal with later. Right now, she had a job to do.

Several miles ahead of her, the terror of the day made itself known by releasing an ear-piercing shriek. Then Buttercup made her presence known by promptly throttling the crap out of the beast. Its subsequent cries were of anguish rather than of conquest as its first had been. Flashes of green splattered the sky and surrounding area. They were of two different hues; the neon clearly belonged to the PowerPuff while the darker, grittier splashes of green that lingered on the skyscrapers and streets were more akin to monster guts. Blossom sighed in relief. One good thing about her sister was that she made the others' jobs easier.

Although Buttercup had always been prone to bursts of aggression, ever since the loss of their father her violence had escalated to a frightening level. Now it seemed rarer for her not to give it her all in a fight. Whether this was for the better, Blossom could only speculate. Either way, she didn't plan to confront the girl about it.

"Buttercup," she called as she arrived. But there was no need for a summons.

Buttercup hovered about the desolation of the monster. By the looks of what was left, Blossom determined it had been some sort of bug thing. A snapped-off part of a mandible jutted from the face of a particularly window-manic building. That would be a pain to clean up. Fortunately, the Mayor had been kind enough to relieve them of that duty while they were in mourning. However, he had made that promise three weeks ago, directly following the death of Professor Utonium. How long would his kindness last? The citizens already had enough trouble recovering from the attacks without having to clean up giant monster carnage. It wouldn't be long before they began to refuse. Blossom hoped to have things in order before that happened. Heaven knew she didn't need any more paperwork on her plate.

"Done so quickly?" Blossom asked her sister, who had not turned to greet her.

Buttercup remained silent. Blossom bit her lip. She had received the silent treatment the last dozen times she had tried to console her sister. At least Buttercup hadn't immediately flown off this time. She waited, even though she didn't expect Buttercup to reply. For now, all she could do was wait.

Without turning her head, Buttercup grunted, "See you at dinner." Then she vanished, her neon trail blazing like a comet behind her.

Blossom sighed. She turned to fly back but was halted by the sudden presence of her other sister. Bubbles floated just a few feet away, her arms pulled up in front of her chest like she was holding something important. Blossom knew this look, and it hurt more than her own pain to see Bubbles suffer so. She fought the urge to avert her gaze and said, "Buttercup is coming to dinner."

Bubbles paused a moment before whispering, "Okay."

Blossom lingered for a moment, unsure of what to do. But Bubbles relieved her of that burden and flew off back the way she'd come. Blossom sighed again. She began her journey back to the house where a mountain of paperwork awaited her.

Below the Earth's mantle, far beyond the roiling magma no manmade machine had ever come close to reaching, a cavern of unfathomable proportions lay, at peace with its assurance that no uninvited stranger would ever chart its expanses. The thick balmy air swirled around the ceiling of the monstrous lair. Closer to the floor, the heat ebbed just enough to keep spontaneous combustion at bay. It was dark and ominous, which was what had attracted its keeper to it in the first place. The only light was a faint, bodiless glow that seemed to radiate throughout the entirety of the realm. A faint musk of brimstone wafted through the atmosphere. There were no walls in sight, or maybe there were. It could all be an illusion. It could be hell.

These theories and others had stirred through the Professor's mind as he lay flat on his back unable to move. How long had he been there? The answer was impossible. There was no indication of time in this god-forsaken place. There was nothing except foreboding and fear. Professor Utonium could feel nothing, could only see in front of him, straight up toward the ceiling which potentially did not exist. There was no sleep in this realm, no break between one segment of time and the next. There was nothing. There was nothing. There was nothing.

Then, there was something.

A presence – just beyond his line of sight – edged around the fringes of his vision as if it knew implicitly the exact parameters. No, it couldn't. He was imagining it. His mind was tricking him, having certainly gone insane in the perpetuity of his situation. Suddenly he breathed, which would have been a mediocre action had it not been the first time he was able to since he awoke here on the ground. The ground – he could feel it now. It was as hard as he had imagined, but his head and body were not sore from it. Not from what he could feel yet, anyway. He inhaled through his nose, blinked – something else he hadn't done until now. Every experience was new, the first time he had done anything but stare and stare and stare in this hellhole.

At length he felt confident enough to move his arms and legs. To his utter amazement, they did not tremble or resist at all. Logically, his muscles would have atrophied after such long disuse. But when he sat up and pushed his arms behind him for support, he felt no different than before. In fact, he actually felt better, like his body had been rejuvenate. He flexed and noted with relish a sensation of youthfulness he thought he had tapped out years ago.

"Mmmm."

The Professor snapped around at the unanticipated purr behind him. Horror gripped him, shoving back his eyelids until the round orbs within shown like saucers at his new companion. He tried to speak, but no words escaped his flapping jaw. A garbled sort of choking noise clawed out of his throat, which only elicited a deranged smile from the other man.

"So pleased you are awake, Professor." That voice. More than a face, a name, or any other sort of detail, that voice was unmistakable. There was only one creature who spoke with such a soft operatic quality that margarine envied its creamy texture.

So when Utonium finally gained control of his vocal cords, the first thing he said was, "Oh hell. It's Him."