Like a good communist, I own nothing.

"Gauntlet: Redemption"
Part 1

Cold cutting March rain came with the morning. Blossom silently cursed it as she stepped out of the car, flanked by two ever-present bodyguards. The sky was a looming carpet of dark, and the sun only shone through at erratic intervals. Still, her work did not discriminate between night and day, nor ran or shine. A young man, possibly in his mid twenties, ran out, an umbrella extended overhead to keep her as dry as possible.

"The Director expresses his apologies for the delay, Ms. Utonium." The young man apologized, sincerely.

"What was it this time?"

"An attempted escape, Ma'am."

"An escape?" Blossom's eyebrows raised a fraction in concern. "Was anyone... involved?"

"No, ma'am. We don't believe so."

"Security is of paramount concern. The wait was simply an inconvenience." Blossom walked past the towering iron gates with her entourage, as the rain poured down at a steady, unrelenting pace. Her heels occasionally splashed in a stray puddle, so she walked slowly and carefully. There was little rush.

The doors to the Asylum opened, and she stepped inside.

The young man drifted off, and headed outside again, but Blossom's bodyguards stayed with her every step as she ventured deeper into the stale labyrinth of halls and honeycombed cells. An elevator, and a flight of steps, provided access to the deepest and darkest; to the most secure of cages meant to cage men. Abruptly, it opened up into a large area, a virtual cavern cut out of the bedrock.

Blossom's bodyguards stopped, and stood just outside the final door. They would not enter the cavern - she would not want them. More importantly, HE would not want them. A large blast door closed behind her, once again shutting the cavern off from the outside world, and leaving Blossom's defenders out of sight. Still, she fearlessly approached the center of the cavern, to the faintly glowing 'glass' cube that was the only remarkable thing to be seen. Its interior was decorated by a variety of things: A small abstract portrait, a well-stocked bookcase, and several rows of detailed sculptures...

In a wooden chair, a figure sat, his back to her.

"Ah... how nice to see you again, my little muse. My Mneme." The figure turned slightly in his chair, deep red eyes blinking appreciatively at her. He wore a simple short-sleeved white textured shirt, and black formal pants over an adult body, well oiled for combat, and designed specifically for destruction. He was a coiled cobra, both at ease and ready to strike at a moment's weakness.

"Hello, Brick." Blossom picked up one of two foldout chairs on the floor, and set it up. Sitting down, she crossed her legs, and Brick smiled.

"You look very nice today, Blossom." He didn't face her completely, but preferred to keep at least part of his face hidden from view at all times. "The scarf compliments your eyes perfectly."

"Thank you." Blossom reached down and felt the pink scarf around her neck. It was silk between her fingers, untouched by the rain outside. Everything else she wore was her normal attire: a business suit and skirt, midnight blue.

"Hmmm." Brick slowly closed his eyes and turned away a little more. "For what reason have you graced me, little muse?"

"You know why."

"The Game." A smile crept up the corner of his mouth. "They're still playing the Game, and you don't know what the Rules are. You don't even know what the Goal is. You won't get your answers... your enlightenment... from me, Bloss."

"Why? Why won't you tell me?"

Brick said nothing.

Blossom started to scowl. He was always like this.

"Answer me, Brick!"

"No." The red Rowdyruff shook his head. "I may not be able to... prevaricate... here... but I can equivocate. I do not believe you need to know such a thing, so I shall simply not say anything." His tone grew slightly agitated. "You've drawn enough water from this rock already, little muse."

"Let's change the topic then."

"Very well." Brick's eyes wandered over the confines of his cell. The irony made him smile. "I don't have anything else to do... at the moment."

"Why did you save me?"

"Save you?" Brick started to laugh softly. He'd been waiting for her to ask that. "I simply wanted you for myself."

Blossom drew back. This wasn't what she had expected as an answer.

"W... what?" She asked. "What do you mean?"

Nothing.

Brick looked away, at the ceiling.

"Answer me, Brick." Her voice wasn't demanding - it was pleading. She needed to know. It was eating her alive. She saw a tiny wrinkle of tension over his body, betraying that tiny spark of kindness and caring and compassion that still resided within him. "Please. Please, Brick... why?"

He gritted his teeth.

"Please... why did you save me?"

"Aa..." He opened his mouth, held back, but eventually relented. "I would not have you die..."

Blossom leaned in closer, as Brick's voice became softer.

His eyes caught her movement.

"I have seen the face of death, little muse..." His voice grew a tad softer, and Blossom leaned in ever closer to the transparent wall that separated them. Then, with total suddenness, he was out of his chair, and slammed into the glass barrier. Blossom's heart missed a beat, and she fell back from the shock and speed of his movement. Landing on her fanny, undignified, she looked up and saw him standing calming behind the glass, chuckling softly, arms crossed.

"Red," He said, after a second or so.

"Red?" Blossom's mind worked - 'Red' was Boomer's nickname for her. Brick had never used it before.

"Your panties. They're red." Brick smirked, but at least looked away for a moment while Blossom quickly covered herself and got back to her feet.

"Bastard!" She spat, and started fixing her clothes, trying to regain her dignity. The neat bun that had been her hair was tousled, too.

"A bastard has a mother." Brick inclined his head, and quickly turned his whole back to her. His tone subtly indicated a measure of lost control. It occurred to her it wasn't something he had wanted to say: he had blurted it out.

Mother.

Did Brick want a mother? She knew he didn't really consider anyone his 'parents.' Mojo was more of a father figure, and working associate, to Brick. She also suspected that the Rowdyruff both hated and deeply respected Professor Utonium, though the reasons for either of those two emotions were unclear. There really had never been much in Brick's life in the way of parents.

"Do you... wish you had parents, Brick?" She sat down, and waited for his response. "Do you?" She asked again, after a few seconds.

"Do ...you?" Brick returned with a question of his own. He was dancing around the topic, but at least acknowledging it. To Blossom, this was a step in the right direction.

"Sometimes. The Professor is... he's kind of like our father and our mother at the same time. He loves us, and that's what matters. And there's Ms. Bellum and Ms. Keane..."

Brick's expression grew solemn.

Finally, he snorted loudly and closed his eyes.

"Do you?" Blossom asked, for a third time.

"I am..." He started, but paused. After a handful of tense moments, he admitted what she already knew. "... yes."

"Do you want to talk about it? Tell me about it?"

"No!" Brick snarled, rage replacing the tension he had exhibited just instants before in admitting his weakness.

"You can trust me, Brick." Blossom pursed her lips. "Why don't you trust me?"

"It's not about trust, Bloss." Brick finally faced her, and put one hand up against the glass. "It's about love. I love you enough to tell you only what you need to know. I'm protecting you, little muse, and I never expected gratitude for it."

"You're endangering everyone's lives."

"True. However, the ends justify the means. Especially in this case." He backed up a few feet, so the shade of his body covered part of his face again. "I believe I've said enough today. ... Leave."

"No." Blossom reached into her breast pocket, and took out a small strip of purple cloth, torn and dirty. "Tell me about this."

Nothing.

"Tell me!"

Slowly, Brick backed up, ever more into the darkness. "I will do no such thing."

"Tell me, damn it!" Blossom took a few steps forward, trying to keep as much of his expression illuminated as possible. "How did you know about her? You weren't alive! She died less than an hour...!"

"You don't know anything!" Brick cut her off, his voice harsher than she'd ever heard. "Especially about her. You selfish... thoughtless bitches... you have no idea what your actions led to... no fucking clue..."

"Brick...?"

"But maybe..." He faced her, eyes blazing a terrible white. "Maybe I'll show you!"

"What are... no!" Blossom stumbled back, as Brick drew back a fist, and crashed through the glass barrier in a storm of crystal and pulsing electric energy. Blossom's left heel twisted, and she fell back just as he jumped on her, hands pinning her upper arms. She blinked, and saw Brick's face, twisted and contorted in rage. He was angry - a detached, heartless, dangerous anger he rarely showed.

But how was this possible?

He'd never been able to break out before! He'd never been so strong that she couldn't will him back into some semblance of compliance. Was it possible... was it outside the realm of possibility that he'd been hiding his power and knowledge? Not at all, really, but she had thought herself prepared, when she obviously had not been.

But... why?

Why was he so angry?

She blinked, and she was somewhere else entirely.

It was an island - lush, tropical, beautiful. She felt the presence of someone, from the side, and it brought a mixture of comfort and contentment. What felt like a hand reached out, and there was physical contact. Slowly turning, to face this companion, she drew back...

And screamed.

They sat across from each other.

"How?"

Brick didn't answer.

"How can this be?"

Slowly, he got to his feet, and spoke. "At heart, every man and woman is a an animal, Blossom. A beast. What do you suppose that makes us?"

She shut her eyes. This wasn't what she wanted to hear. Even if it was true, she didn't want to hear it!

"In your soul, my little muse... you... me... all of our kind... are monsters." Brick's tone was calm, collected. Yet, he was telling the absolute truth. He could not lie to her within her own mind.

"How does it feel, Blossom?" He continued, brutally. "How does it feel to have killed so many of your own? Does it twist at your delicate threads of human sentimentality? Does it irk your too-human morality?" He scoffed. "We're little different, you and I, except that I know what I'm doing, and you simply follow orders and impulse... Sit! Stand! Beg! ...Kill."

"A tool of lower life forms." Brick finished. "How sad. I've always pitied you for that. But I never hated you, Blossom." He looked down at her, eyes fierce with determination. "I never hated you... even after what you did to me... to my brothers... to her... to our kind. I never hated you. ...I never will." He held out his hand.

She looked up at him, entranced by his face.

By the emotion in his eyes.

This was the true Brick. This was the boy, twisted and hurt and burned by the world, that hid behind his cold exterior. He was like fire: a passion and a belief so strong it transcended anything she had ever come close to. She was in awe of it.

"Take my hand, Blossom. Take my hand, and I will show you the secrets... the secrets of what we... WE... are. Take my hand."

Slowly, she reached up.

And took his hand.

"That's a good girl." Brick smiled, as his hand met hers. He helped her up, and she was reminded of the strength he wielded. But carefully - never in excess. That, more than anything, seemed to be his mantra. Even such a simple act, like helping her to her feet, he did efficiently.

"Explain... explain what I saw." She pulled her hand out of his grip, suddenly a bit embarrassed.

"Of course." Brick turned slightly away, and locked his hands behind his lower back. "The creature you saw... the monster... was the girl you created and named 'Bunny.' Yet, just as much so, it was not. Let me begin with what passed for a beginning..."

He took a deep breath, and almost seemed to have second thoughts about continuing. Yet continue he ultimately did.

"I did not initially know who I was... I simply was. One of them. After my body was destroyed, and my components scattered to the winds, the Chemical X within me continued to exist, in a pure and refined form... It was un-patterned, of course..."

"Un-patterned?"

"Chemical X is..." Brick sighed. "It is difficult to describe. It is a sort of super-reactant. A catalyst. Think of it as Thought and Willpower - raw Sentience given form. 'I think therefore I am.' It reacts to sequences of ingredients. Add some sugar, spice, and everything nice, and you get instant girls... or something that appears close enough to pass itself off as a girl."

"The Professor said we were accidents..."

Brick scoffed. "Mojo told me the story. He pushed the Professor..." A sharp laugh. "Do you honestly believe that the Chemical X was just there, hanging over the mixture, purely by accident? Oh, I have no doubt that the amount of Chemical X used to create you girls was an accident, but that he had never intended to use it at all? Don't make me laugh. Your father is eccentric, but no fool."

Blossom shook her head. Of course. Of course. It had been so obvious.

"The Chemical X that was me... that was Brick... was not destroyed. It persisted, and lingered, and traveled, until it eventually found a new set of ingredients. Who knows what those were... a cockroach, a beer can, a discarded wrapper... it doesn't matter. The result was obvious. Instant Monster."

"Which one were you?"

Brick smirked, and pointed at his hair. It was a shade of orange.

"That was you?!"

"Big and orange." Brick nodded. "That was me. I wandered into the city... you can't imagine the thought processes of what I had become... the body was wholly different, and with my memories and most of what made me, me, repressed, I did not know better. I was like an animal, acting largely on instinct. After a time, I chose to leave - the experience had awakened within me strange sensations and memories I did not know how to deal with or comprehend."

"And Bunny..."

"Was the other creature. The one you saw." Brick's smirk turned into an actual smile. "That huge, hideous thing... yes, it was her. And when I laid eyes on her, following an instinctual drive towards Monster Island, I felt... attraction... an animal attraction I cannot explain. I had to have her... and even in that form, what I wanted, I took!"

Blossom grimaced at the thought.

"Other males challenged me - they tried to impress her with boasts about battles they'd had against you girls. Truth be told, many of the creatures took great pleasure in fighting you girls... you were, of course, quite ugly to them, and far too small for mating purposes, but you had great breeding potential because of your power." Brick looked at her, pleased to see that she found the very thought repulsive.

"They could smell their own." Brick added.

Blossom frowned at that. "Buttercup, maybe."

"Regardless, I took what I wanted, and she was what I wanted. We became mates... lovers..." Brick's voice didn't waver at the word. "You are, perhaps, wondering how such a thing suits me now."

"It crossed my mind."

"The memories... are complex. Understand that I... may have loved her. Understand that the moments we had together were the faint light of bliss in a life of darkness and pain. I treasure them... and yet I am now repulsed by them." He shook his head. "I'm drifting off topic. When we were together, there was a certain something akin to when I had battled you girls. I sensed a similarity. Exploring that led to hints of memories... hints of the past... I shared my concerns with my mate, as she was feeling these things as well. Together, we delved into our minds, and shared what we found."

"There were no lies between us." Brick paused. "Our minds would not have conceived of such a thing. Yet, as our awareness began to increase, and our sense of self became more sharply defined, we could not share so complete a mental connection. At that moment, when the project we had begun became the project I was committed to, there came... Revelation. All at once, a flood of memories, and sentience..."

Brick's body tensed up.

"Bunny seemed to have it as well. We retreated, minds aflame, into a sort of hibernation... concentrating what we were in an attempt to restore ourselves. We recreated ourselves, literally. The next memory I have is clawing my way out of what had once been my body. When I reached the surface, I looked... I looked for her." Brick crushed his eyes shut. "When I found her... she was halfway out of her body... halfway to freedom... the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"But... she..." Blossom caught herself.

Brick whirled on Blossom, and touched her on the arm, gently. In her mind's eye, the pink Powerpuff saw what Brick remembered. A girl, Blossom's actual age, a Powerpuff, with light purple hair and two long bangs that draped over her perfect face. She wore the slightly darker purple version of the Powerpuff dress, though her lower half seemed to still be inside the body of the ...thing that she had been. Oddly, there was no blood.

"What happened?" Blossom asked, in barely a whisper.

"She is not how you remember her. This was how she imagined herself to be... how she wanted to be..." Brick pulled his hand back, and the image slowly faded. "She and I... we both kept our memories from before. We didn't know better... I... I... managed to deal with it... to rationalize it... to bury it... but Bunny..." He took a deep breath. "She couldn't. She couldn't..."

Blossom was suddenly reminded, once again, of the image she had managed to take from his mind when they had been merged: A scrap of purple cloth, with a hint of black on the edge, slowly floating down to rest on a pool of red blood. She gasped, and drew back. Brick pivoted, just enough to watch her do so.

"You...?"

"A mercy killing." Brick's face was set in stone. "One of a great many."

"No... no you can't... can't mean..."

"Someone had to clean up the mess you girls left behind." Brick turned away again. "In me... what was left of that precious humanity you so cherish was... drowned... in a flood of blood and tears a long time ago."

"What about Boomer... and Butch...?"

"My dear brothers..." Brick seemed to trail off at the mention of them. "They have no memory of what they were. I had to tear them free myself, one after another, and craft their bodies with my mind alone. I made them. I made myself. I have no mother. I have no father. I have only myself."

She took a step forward, and carefully reached out to touch his shoulder - to reassure him: to reach him. "No, Brick... you have me..."

He started to laugh. "Yes. I do, don't I?"

"Brick...?"

"Ah, my little muse..." Brick's left hand rested on her own. "My Mneme. There are only two more tests... two more... Our kind is so close to our destiny..."

"I still don't understand..."

"Nor do I wish you to." He suddenly turned, and pulled her in close against him. He leaned in closer, his breath mixing with hers, and his body seemed to envelop and surround her in its embrace.

"You'll know what to do when the time comes. Blossom." His tone was appreciative, complimenting; she felt her whole body tense and relax at the same time. "I have faith in two things only: myself... and you. But for the moment... you're needed elsewhere."

Breathlessly, she watched as his face drew closer. Something soft and electric touched her lips, and her eyes snapped open. Nearly blinded by the light, she gasped for air, and instead inhaled some sort of thick viscous liquid. Groping sightlessly for some means of escape, she heard a hissing sound, and suddenly a flush of cold air hit her in the face, and she fell forward.

"W...w... wa...?" Blossom struggled to find her voice.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Bubbles looked down at her sister. In the crook of her arm, the plush doll that was Octi expressed its concern.

"She seems different. I sense something odd about her," It said, softly. Bubbles didn't acknowledge it, and the doll silently sulked. The future was uncertain enough without added... concerns. After all, things had worked out well enough so far.

Blossom stared up at her sister, into her eyes. There was something... off about them. But before Blossom could delve deeper into whatever was the problem, Bubbles turned away, looking down at the plush toy octopus in her arms. Blossom slowly raised her hand to her lips.

They were warm - flush.

For the first time, Blossom was beginning to understand.