Buttercup X Ace - “Powerless” - Introduction
Hello! This is going to be a new series of mine, so I hope you enjoy. A few important points: BUTTERCUP IS 20!!! Ace is like 29. Age gap, yes- but I am not one of those nasty fucks who writes Ace with a 5 year old Buttercup. That’s deplorable shit that I won’t be taking part in.
With that being said, here are the proceeding warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, abuse, cussing, and death. This story is a dark romance- meaning horror with a focus on love. Not Haunting Adeline levels of fucked up- but I’d imagine the PowerPuff Girl fandom likes wholesome more than not.
Chapter Pages Link.
Art by… I don’t know. Pintrest never lets me find the original posters. When I find out who made this, they WILL be linked.
The section between “… … …” is sort of filler, so feel free to skip that if you’d like. There’s no important information in that part.
———
They said the nights have been awfully quiet since Buttercup returned.
It was true. Without Buttercup, Townsville was a monstrance place- literally. Constant attacks, fear, monsters, entities, and more. Of course, when the PowerPuff Girls were created, they spent a good decade and then some keeping it safe. However Blossom had eventually moved to Japan to study chemistry abroad, and Bubbles was in Australia studying exotic creatures. Buttercup was the only one of the three to stay and defend Townsville.
That being said, she did travel of course. The past two years of her life had been in every place that wasn’t Townsville. China, Japan, Korea, Japan again, Australia, Iraq, Canada, Mexico, Australia again, the US, Colombia, Peru, and much, much more. She’s been on countless talk shows, seen things most humans will never see in one lifetime, and heard languages not understood by any other.
Of course, traveling to wherever would be quite difficult if it hadn’t been for the Professor’s last gift to her. As a celebration of her 18th birthday three years ago, he made her a food that will share with her the knowledge of omnilingualism (the power of knowing every language). Something about food is a universal word for love, and he loves her enough to give her the love of food- or something stupid like that. She wishes she remembered what cliche he said about it exactly and didn’t just brush it under the rug.
To celebrate her birthday, an unknown entity had one unforgettable gift: a fire starting whenever she was out with friends and he was asleep. That fire spread to only two rooms in the house: his bedroom and the PowerPuff Girls’ old bedroom. Nothing- and no one- remained.
That’s why she left Townsville. But, it wasn’t right to stay gone. She knew in her heart she had to return.
… … …
Weeks later.
Since the return of Buttercup, she was rarely alone; when the sun lowered and the day’s worth of criminals was no longer an issue, the flashing lights and cameras of the nightclub crowd beckoned to her. These fans and strangers would offer her drinks for a moment of her attention. Besides, she was 20 now, a legal adult. What would the police do if the club let in an underage drinker- arrest her? She worked closer to the police than the mayor himself.
At the Vida Nightclub, Buttercup nudged the empty glass across the table and sighed peacefully. Another night, another man to buy her drinks. With that, another night of pretty, fake lies disguised as flattery.
“You know, I always thought heroes were all stuck up, prissy assholes,” said the man leaning over her table, his voice filled with disgusting overconfidence, “but you’re different, Buttercup.” The admittedly handsome man slid over another fancy glass towards her. Buttercup took the glass with an amused giggle, analyzing the pretty green hue of the drink. Just her color, a cute little touch; if only small details made him worth sleeping with.
“You got a pretty face,” he said, sliding into the seat next to her, uninvited. Buttercup scooted away a few inches but he filled the gap again. She mentally scoffed. He continued, “And a killer body. Shame you don’t show it off as much. Bet you’d get the criminals to act up more just to see you, huh?”
Buttercup chuckled very lowly, pressing her hand onto her face and giving him a sort of smile that wasn’t real at all. She saw through his facade so easily. Every man she’s ever met has tried to use her for the same purpose: a political statement, a medal, and a power to conquer. They wanted to have a woman with more influence, even just one time because they feel entitled to it. Although she’s never given any of these guys a kiss, let alone a night at her place, their hunger and lack of boundaries persevere.
“I feel like I get you, Buttercup,” he said softly, locking eyes with her and leaning over her smaller figure. In truth, this girl didn’t look like she could kill him with a fraction of her strength. And clearly he forgot that, as his face moved closer to hers and his hands touched her thigh. “Really, I do.”
Says a man who wants what he can’t have, and thinks buying alcohol for an infinitely rich superhero would impress her enough to lead to a night at her place. Then, he’d never contact her again unless it's late at night and the other girls wouldn’t pick up the phone.
“Do you?” Buttercup asked sarcastically, narrowing her eyes into a sweet but annoyed expression. Leaning her elbows on the table and her cheek onto her hand, she asked, “Why do you say that? Because you got money to buy a few drinks and not shut up since?” The end of her sentence trailed off its sweetness, and her face followed suit. She wasn’t even annoyed at him pretending to be interested in her. She was mostly annoyed at his demeanor.
The man chuckled, leaning away, clearly feeling awkward now as he kept his smug face on. “Now, now I didn’t mean that,” he paused for a long sip of his beer like it’ll hide the sting, “just that, you know, we got lots in common. Don’t gotta get bitchy.” Buttercup lifted and took a sip of her new drink, her eyes tensing. Tart. She glanced up at him as she swallowed- finally sighing and letting her true feelings surface.
“Don’t gotta pretend to know me either,” she said cold and sharp. “Buy me another drink and humor me, or leave. Drinks ain’t a shortcut, so don’t think you’ll lay another hand on me,” Buttercup spit, before turning her head once more to take another sip of the drink. A few heads turned in their direction.
The man stood abruptly, his face twitching angrily. He snatched the glass from in front of her, spilling some of its contents onto the table. Only the straw remained in her mouth as she glared up at him. “You gold digger bitch, buy your own fucking drink then!” Suddenly he swung his wrist, spilling the rest of the pretty drink all over her face and dress.
Her eyes shut as she seethed, her dress soaking. The whole club saw it happen.
“You fucking asshole!” She yelled as she stood up, fixing her hair into place as she wiped the liquid off her arms the best she could. Thankfully the crowd was on her side as expected, quickly going to defend their local celebrity against the guy. With a huff, she turned her heel towards the exit and left.
The club wasn’t supposed to be for feeling loved or admired. Let alone wanted. It was in hopes that a crowd would make her feel less alone.
… … …
She wasn’t embarrassed- no, Buttercup had far too much pride for that. She was just angry that, for a glimmer of a moment, she wasn’t as alone. And now her bitterness clang to her like the scent of alcohol onto her drenched dress and skin.
With her pretty pink lips in a pout, she wandered the empty streets with her head hanging low and arms crossed, as if she was holding herself together. Her cheeks were more red than usual due to the alcohol, and her vibrant eyes softly illuminated in the night with a ghostly glow. Her steps were uneven as if she forgot she could levitate or fly. Is there a rule against flying under the influence?
But, then again, why rush to get home?
The Mayor’s gift to her was that mansion. For its architectural beauty, it was simply hollow and underused. She only needed 3, maybe 4 of the rooms- the rest echoing what could have been. Perhaps a study for each of her sisters, and their own bedrooms and bathrooms. Maybe the Professor could have used that extra large basement for more than just potions and little machines. But they weren’t here. And that thought.
It broke her heart a little more every time.
She sighed softly, the air taking away a bit of stress. But, to bring it right back, the wind began to pick up and those fishnets weren’t enough to keep her warm. “Dang it,” she mumbled softly, bringing her hands up to her upper arms and fluttering her eyes shut. “Not now…”
The wind didn’t care. But, it did listen as it got stronger.
The goosebumps on her exposed legs tingled, and she felt a shiver down her spine. As the sidewalk started to go at an incline, Buttercup had to battle this sudden force of nature. “What the hell…” she muttered to herself as her hair violently whipped around, hitting her in the face occasionally. “Is this another monster?” She asked herself almost sarcastically.
”You could say that,” a voice called out. Smooth. Clear. Pitched. And familiar.
She froze. But, again, the wind didn’t care. It clawed at her, nearly pulling her back. But her body hardly felt it.
What she felt was her heart as it pounded against her chest. The ringing in her ears grew, and her breath hitched. Buttercup, the strongest PowerPuff, was stuck standing. In fear.
Real fear. The kind of fear she left Townsville over.
“I don’t like to think of myself as a monster,” the ringing voice spoke, “I suppose from your perspective…”
The wind vanished. But her body still shivered. Her voice cracked from the weight of her fear as she asked:
”It can’t be HIM… can it?”
A thundering fit of laughter erupted from the earth itself, ringing and echoing through her ears and bones. Her fists lit up with its green flame, her eyes glow piercing through the darkness as she spun around; as if His Inferno Majesty would simply step out of the darkness and come before her.
And that pounding in her chest, defensive use of magic, and heavy breathing accumulated a wonderful smell: fear. He could sense it.
”Leave me alone!” Buttercup screamed, slurring words in her drunken, panicked state. She shakingly spun around, dazed as she moved her eyes around the area for any signs of the demon. But only his piercing laugh remained- growing louder with every second. Deeper. Devouring the air and light.
Growing darker. Darker. Yet darker. Until she couldn’t see no longer. Until she could barely breathe. Until the sound abruptly stopped.
Silence. Buttercup looked around the vast room of darkness, slowly turning in place through the nothingness, with the click of her heel faintly echoing.
There was nothing. At least for a minute.
A light began to emerge a few feet ahead, cold and pale. It illuminated a mirror- large, cracked, and misty grey. Buttercup furrowed her eyebrows, mumbling, “What is this?” Faintly, she could see her reflection through the mirror. She took a step forward, and then another- slowly approaching this ominous mirror until she could see herself more clearly.
But this mirror… wasn’t truly her. Buttercup doesn’t cry or look helpless. But, the girl in the mirror did. It looked like her a lot, it truly did, only dimmer. Her eyes didn’t glow, her lips were red and cracked, and the bags under her eyes were very visible. As if she’s gone through hell.
”HIM..?” Buttercup whispered in a trembling voice, unable to turn her head from the mirror. Something about this sight was just too uncanny. A tickle at her face made her bring her hand to her cheek- and the wetness of a tear soaked her fingertip. But the reflection didn’t move her hand. Buttercup tapped the mirror with that same hand- gasping as a shock ran through her at contact. The surge of pain stole her breath away.
”Oh, Buttercup, darling…” The piercing voice in the void came from everywhere, with the tone of sweet venom: sharp, slow, and sweet. “Townsville was ever so charming without a little PowerPuff getting in the way! With dear Professor Utonium rotting beside me in Hell,” he chuckled lowly, “I thought, the girls would surely fall apart. Surely. And yet..?”
Buttercup sniffled, her breathing growing more rapid as tears began to fall. Her heart. It ached. She always had a feeling HIM had something to do with the Professor’s…
…and now she knew. No wonder he disappeared after it happened.
”You stayed, Buttercup. Getting older, stronger- and more annoying.” His voice dripped with venom, anger exploding in his voice. “How tiresome! I was so close to a flawless reign, but there you were! All fists, talk, and fury, spoiling my fun.”
Buttercup’s sorrow-filled face crinkled into one of disgust and anger. The tears poured out, and her fists clenched tightly.
”So, I got to thinking… What is Buttercup without her sisters? Without Daddy? Better yet, without those lovely little powers?” He giggled, high-pitched and disoriented. “Oh, I adore this plan! I really, REALLY do.”
Buttercup seethed, spinning around to find the demon. She was sharper now, refusing the let him strike fear in her any longer. “Show yourself! You want my powers, take it from me like a real villain!”
The laughter returned like thunder crackling through the sky. And with the blink of an eye, the tall, gigantic Devil appeared before her, towering and crooked, A grotesque shadow of grace. He leaned in close, his red lips curved into the most devious smile. He was mere inches from her face as he sweetly whispered:
“Oh, Buttercup, when you touched the mirror… You gave them away.”
The mirror behind her shattered. The demon returned to the shadows, laughing louder than ever before. It was like the world crashed down on her.
She screamed. Her mind went a thousand miles an hour, and her body ached and stressed all over. She felt like she was going to die.
And then, she collapsed.
.
…
.
…
.
…
.
They found her on the street hours later. Unconscious and vulnerable. Her pretty, green, tight dress was ruffled and slightly stained. Her fishnets had a few tears, and her sparkling green heels were on the sidewalk next to her, having slipped off. All dazzled up. Too pretty to deserve to look passed out drunk on the street.
They weren’t looking for trouble that night, just a way back home. But whenever they saw a girl across the street, they said, “Let’s go check it out.” To say the least, no one was underwhelmed.
When Ace saw her lying there, his eyes widened and something within him stirred. She wasn’t just a drunk passed out on the street. She was her. The one who punched his teeth in, humiliated his gang publically, and destroyed every political advancement they’ve ever made.
And now?
She was a shadow of her formal self, it seemed. She retained her natural grace and beauty- Ace couldn’t see a hint of even mascara on her face. She was a beauty, no makeup was needed.
”Yo,” Snake said, extending the “o” into a hiss. He squinted his eyes, muttering, “Is that..?”
Lil’ Arturo narrowed his eyes, leaning over the sleeping girl, “No way.”
Grubber made a… sound. Probably concern.
Big Billy smiled, leaning over and petting her hair with one finger.
And Ace walked over to her, slow and cautious. The heels of his boots echoed onto the pavement. It was her.
Buttercup.
That demon of green who beat him to a pulp more times than he could count. Now she truly did look like a ghost. He half wondered if she was dead.
“Ace?” Snake spoke up lightly, wary and unsure.
Ace crouched beside her, his hand pushing the tangled hair from her face. Her skin was cold. Hollow; like she’d been left for dead in the Antarctic. He stood back up, never tearing his eyes from her.
His voice was low and decisive. He finally said the words:
“Pick her up.”
