PpG: Madness RATED R
Name: PpG: Madness
Summary: Buttercup learns the true meaning of insanity when a killer comes to town...
By Buttercup Utonium
Insanity. The all encompassing madness. I feel like laughing right now. Why? It just doesn’t seem right is all. I mean, the pain I’ve suffered. The pain of loss, death, and horror. But I’m free now, spreading my wings like an angel in the sky. Free in the abyss of madness.
My name is Buttercup Utonium, and over the last week my family has been killed off one by one. Except for me, and one other person. I’m almost writing this like I’m talking to someone. Like maybe Bubbles, my dead sister. Or Blossom. Maybe I’m just talking to myself. I just laughed. I always talk to myself. I’m the only one I have for company in this god-forsaken place. Heheheheh. I felt like writing my laughter. Hahahahahahah. I don’t entirely know how it sounds, but I know it sounds insane. Why have I gone off the deep end? Listen, me, and find out how I and you went crazy…
I was once just a normal, sane girl living in Pokey Oaks. Most people there are dead now. Goodnight, as I say to myself sometimes when a friend of mine dies. I feel like life right now is a dream…or nightmare. I’m not too sure…
Nightmare. That’s what it is…
Oh no, I’m rambling again, aren’t I? Well, you wouldn’t know would you? Because I’m talking to no one.
I was happy then. And it all began with a phone call.
The phone rang, and naturally my sis answered it.
Blossom listened in, waited for several seconds as the Mayor explained the circumstances, and Blossom replied: “We’re on it!”
I had a feeling right then and there that something was wrong. That something bad was going to happen. I was an idiot. A crazy idiot who ignored it.
Blossom explained the situation: A murderer who calls himself Machete has been going on a killing spree, randomly killing innocents all over town.
“Yikes,” Bubbles commented.
“Yeah, sounds like one messed up dude,” I said.
“I know. And the worst of it is that the bodies show up…well…messed up to say the least.” Blossom replied.
She said something like that.
We examined the body, to find the second most horrible thing we’d ever see. His name was Zach Paren, and he was dead. Should I describe the body? It was mutilated, it’s throat was slit…I can’t. Continue to tell you, I mean. Even insanity isn’t enough to shield me from the dark side of the world I try to avoid. The dark side of the…moon?
I should shut up and tell you.
Now, this is where it got bad.
I was patrolling the streets at night. Stupid…stupid stupid!!!! I was determined to find the murderer who killed that Zach guy. It was horrible. I had to stop this Machete person. I hovered over the town looking for any signs of violence or death or blood. I floated over the Townsville globe, and looking down I saw a figure with a sword cornering some innocent girl.
“Bingo,” I muttered, and sprang into action. I flew down, delivering a kick straight in Machete’s arm. I couldn’t see his face…he was wearing some kind of helmet. I caught a glimpse of the visor and saw cold darkness staring back at me. I was mesmerized by the pure evil in front of me. I could tell. It smiled. It swung it’s machete at me, and I let out a shriek of pain: Machete had cut me across the stomach. I gurgled as blood seeped out of me. I thought I was going to die. Now I wish that I had. I saw with blurry vision the girl…dying. I was…dying. I could feel the cold closing in around me, and I slipped into what I believe was death…
I awoke in a hospital, breathing heavily. I was surrounded by my loving family…how I miss them. Except for the one. The one I despise for being a monster.
“Are you alright?” Blossom asked.
“Yeah…no…” I began. I was in pain, but somehow felt happy. It was the painkillers, I now know.
“It’s alright,” Bubbles said sympathetically. “You’ll be OK…right Professor?”
Dad shook his head. “Whoever it was obviously had some kind of Duranium sword, which is very bad news. He’s probably prepared for anything.”
“Who died?” I asked quietly.
“The police say it was a girl named Rose Percy, though they have yet to confirm it. I feel sorry for the girl…she was only 16. You better get to sleep. You need your rest…”
I nodded, and slipped into unconsciousness…
The next day I healed completely. I didn’t know why, but after the night I just felt more tired than before. The Professor told me that it was because my body was healing rapidly. He was wrong.
I was immediately sent to school, and it was business as usual. I had to listen, act happy and pretend I was fine. But I wasn’t. Machete had hurt me badly. Wounded me like no one had ever done before.And I was willing to sacrifice everything in order to stop him, her, or it. God, I wish I knew how much I would sacrifice.
I sat down in the class, thinking about my revenge. I would deliver a punch, then a kick, then I’d snap his sword in half and then—what? What could I possibly do to make up for what he did for me?
I could kill him.
I quickly shoved the thought from my mind.
No, I said to myself. I couldn’t let myself cross that line.
So I was a good girl.
I sat in class, listening and acting tough. Like normal.
And I was slowly going insane.
That night was relatively peaceful. I was feeling better, and I was going to get a good night’s sleep. I smiled, and lay down in my comfy, comfy bed. How I miss it now.
“Goodnight, Bubbles.” I said as my mind began to slowly drift into sleep.
That was the last word Bubbles would ever say to me.
I felt tired that morning. I had a vague feeling of loss, like something had been taken away from me.
I found her lying down in her bed, like normal. I smiled. Everything was returning to normal. Maybe I would—
I felt a wet and warm liquid in the bed.
Someone must have wet the bed, I thought at first.
Then I saw it:
There was a pool of blood all over the bed. And Bubbles was in the center. I got out of bed and screamed. I just stared at the body, horrified. I couldn’t take it. The pain, the horror. I sat down on the floor and began to mumble quietly. Crazy things. Mad ramblings of a traumatized girl. I saw Blossom begin to stir, and I couldn’t take it. I screamed for the Professor, and soon Blossom was along crying with me. The Professor came in to tell me that everything was alright. I kept crying. The Professor hugged us, and we wept together. I whispered a single word, the word that meant so much to me now:
Then I saw it. Right next to the bed: A sword. A large, bloody sword. A machete.
“No…” I whispered. “NO DAMNIT! NO!!!!!!” I was now screaming swear words incoherently. I shrieked at the top of my lungs and burst out of the room.
“MACHETEEEE! DAMN YOU!” I cried, bursting out of the Professor’s hug.
I was feeling dizzy.
“I…have to get Machete…” I murmured. “I…gotta…make…him pay.”
I threw up.
I woke up again. I hate waking up. It’s just painful to look at how depressing things can be. You’re full of stress, tired, you can’t think straight. Ha. I hate sleeping. I’ve fainted so many times it isn’t even funny. Or maybe it is. Anyway, this is the part where I discover I went crazy.
I woke up again, as I said. I was in a padded cell, covered in white. It seemed to close in around me. It was soft, and bright…I hated it. If I wasn’t already crazy, I would probably BE crazy soon. I punched the wall, trying to break out to no avail. It was hopeless.
“WHY AM I HERE!?!?!?!?!?!?” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“Simple,” said a voice. “It’s because you killed your sister.”
My first question was “Why am I here?”
“Because, there is a huge amount of evidence pointing to the idea that you killed Bubbles Utonium.”
I was still in the cell, listening and talking back to the microphone placed in my cell.
“I DID NOT!” I screamed. “It was the MACHETE! Damnit, don’t you believe me?”
“Yes…in a sense it was the Machete,” the psychologist on the other line answered. “You have an acute multiple personality disorder.”
This blew my mind. I could barely believe it. ME? But then it began to make sense…
I never witnessed any of the murders but one. It was always at night when they happened—could I be some kind of sleep-serial killer? It made sense, I realized. Even when that 16 year old was killed, I could have been hallucinating.
“It…was me.” I said quietly.
“Good. Admitting it is the first step to recovery.”
I couldn’t take it. I burst into tears. “NO! WHY ME? WHY ME?!?!?!?” I screamed. My voice blended in with all the screams of the other psychos in the Asylum, like some hellish chorus. I could here one laughing…another one muttering riddles to himself…someone else was snickering about fire, destiny and some “dark three”.
It didn’t matter anymore though. I was just a little crazy girl, talking to herself. A killer. I had become what I had strived to fight. I curled up in a corner and cried myself to sleep…
There were sounds. Screams, shouts…in my dreams. I heard a voice…
It was shouting something like: “Break in alert! Break in alert!” It kept repeating that. It was funny. I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder…and I saw a needle sticking in me. It wasn’t a medical worker or anybody…it was…
I went to sleep before I could see.
I woke up and saw a meal lying on the floor of the damned white cell. I had no choice but to eat their food, like some kind of animal. I took a big bite…it was disgusting. And I could tell there was some kind of sedative in side of it, too. If I wasn’t insane already, then I was being driven to it. Nevertheless, I ate it, simply because I needed something to eat.
The next several hours I spent contemplating what to do. I made up a movie and watched it in my head. Several ideas for stories came to me, and I would’ve written them down if I had paper. Suddenly, I heard the microphone saying something about a visitor. I almost smiled. The voice in the mike said that the people would bring me out in some kind of containment cell to see Blossom and the Professor. I smiled: I truly cared about my dear sister and my father.
So the cell door opened, and I hovered into the transport cell. I was brought over to a small area where they hooked up a microphone to the transport-cell. I listened and heard a voice:
“Hello…Buttercup?” It was Blossom!
“BLOSSOM!” I said, almost crying with joy. “My god I’m glad to talk to you!” I cried.
“Buttercup…I believe that you’re innocent.”
“I can understand that,” I replied. “But I did it. Heh. It was me.”
Look,” I began. Something strange happened last night…
“Yeah, I know. A break-in.”
“You heard about it?”
“It was everywhere. All over the news.”
“Was anyone caught?”
“No,” Blossom said sadly. “Someone did, however, enter your cell.”
“Machete,” I said angrily.
“You aren’t him. We were right all along. He’s been killing people, Buttercup…oh god. You don’t know how hard it’s been without you or…Bubbles.”
“I know what it’s like,” I said quietly.
“Anyway, the Machete has been killing people. I’m scared. Because I know the truth…” Her voice grew more frightened. “I think I might have the evidence that we need to get you out and the Machete in. You see, the killer is, according to--”
There was a piercing scream over the line. My eyes widened.
“Blossom…?” I whispered. I noticed that the guards who were preventing my escape were running to see the situation.
“Remember me?” a voice asked over the microphone.
“Machete,” I said quietly.
“Correct. I’m sorry for the noise. I usually kill people quiet, but this one’s just for you. She’s actually still alive, you know. For now.”
“SHUT UP!” I shouted.
“Fight me,” he answered back.
I heard a mechanical voice:
I saw my cell open, along with countless others.
And I knew the game had begun.
The cell opened, and I hovered out to see a world of chaos. Inmates were killing each other, their insanity almost as great as mine. I ignored them, bursting through chamber after chamber. I saw some man—his face almost divided in two—blasting away with a machine gun. I screamed at him, grabbed the gun and bent it around to face him.
“No time for toys,” I said.
I kicked him in the face, and he toppled over. I flew through the various hallways, then stopped. I heard a voice…
“Pretty girl…Are you the Pretty Girl?”
I didn’t answer.
“Good. ‘Chete told me to kill the Pretty Girl!”
Springing from behind me were about six thugs, each carrying huge Antidote X guns. I dodged shot after shot, and delivered a punch to the jaw to one of the low-lifes. One attempted to fire, but I broke the tank of Antidote X over his head and he fell unconscious. I felt an X pellet whiz past me. I dodged it with ease, laughed, and then saw another thug walking in front of me. This one looked somehow…different. His laugh echoed. He was from Gotham. I knew who he was: Joker.
“Fun time, girly!” he shouted, pulling out a small sphere. “Come on, kid, put a smile on!”
The Joker’s gas began to surround me, and I closed my eyes. This was the end, I thought. I thought.
I heard the sound of a bullet, and the Joker spat out blood: He had been shot through the heart. He fell down into a pull of blood.
“Ha,” he said.
I grabbed the antidote from his suit and drank it. I alone was immune to the gas now. And whoever had shot the Joker.
I knew who did, though.
The dark figure walked forward and I saw a glint in his eye. Or visor. Whatever. What matters is that he really wanted to kill me. I stood my ground. It was him. The one who had orchestrated this whole damn thing. He was carrying Blossom, still half-alive, and still wearing the helmet, along with a suit of futuristic armor and a sword attached to his belt.
I would of killed him right then and there. I really would have. But there was a nagging curiosity…almost a strange kind of respect that I had for him. I stared into his visor, and asked.
“Who are you?”
I could tell he was smiling. He knew I couldn’t see through the helmet somehow.
“Don’t you want your sister?” he asked.
“Give her back. Don’t kill her.”
“Alright, I will.”
I heard a horrible :SCHLAK:, and there it was, Blossom’s head lying on the ground.
I burst into tears.
“WHY?!?!?!?” I screamed. “WHY?!?!? Why did you kill Bubbles? And Blossom?!? And all of those people…and that girl…and…WHY THE HELL DID YOU DO IT!?!?!?!?!?!?”
“For the benefit of mankind, Buttercup.”
He said it in a way that chilled me to the bone. The way he said it. He sounded like…
He took off his helmet.
“Oh god,” I whispered.
“W-w-why?” I stammered.
“I told you, for the benefit of mankind,” he said quietly. “About one month ago you were wounded badly by Mojo, remember?”
I nodded slowly.
“And you healed. I first assumed it was your powers, but I had a feeling something else was involved. So I cut you open, after luring you into that alley. I found that under extreme stress, your body produces a healing chemical that cures all diseases, and even prevents one from aging. Do you have any idea of the scientific importance of it?”
I was motionless.
“Of course you don’t. You’re just a stupid girl. So I created extreme stress. I killed Bubbles first. It was easy. I just injected her with an extreme painkiller, and stabbed her. She was so relaxed she didn’t even scream.”
“Oh god…” I whispered.
“But I wasn’t satisfied. I decided to frame you for the murder, causing your stress levels to rocket to an all-time high. I snuck in the asylum that night and took a blood sample of the healing chemical, so I could use it. Why didn’t I make a synthetic copy? It’s impossible. I would have to use a nuclear explosion to create the chemical synthetically. I don’t have a nuclear bomb. Yet.”
I was feeling sick.
“Then…surprise, surprise! I discovered that Blossom was catching on! So I attacked her, set up the most dangerous game, and here we are!”
“You’re crazy,” I said.
“Aren’t we all?”
I attacked him in a adrenaline-fueled rage. I lost control I killed him, mangling his body horribly. He was laughing the whole time, and by the end, I was laughing too. Lying down in a puddle of blood, I was having a grand old time! I was so relaxed that I fell asleep. And then they found me.
I was put into a restricted area of the asylum, all for me. Thousands of guards, and paper so I could write. This is what I am writing now. Heheheheheheheeheheheh.
Goodnight everyone that’s died.
Now I’m going to sleep.
Doctor’s report: December 1st, 2004.
Nothing much to actually report. Except for a sad story.
The Utonium family came in today. They wanted to wish their sister, Buttercup a Merry Christmas. As we all know, ever since said sister had her stomach slit, she’s been in an incredibly deep form of schizophrenia. She entirely enveloped in her own little dream world, believing all sorts of strange things, like that she’s in Arkham Asylum (which isn’t even in this city), that the attacker that hurt her was actually her father, and that her sisters are dead. The case is considered hopeless. But the Utoniums were aloud a brief visit to see Buttercup. They wished her a good Christmas. They gave her a present, opened it for her. It was a G. I. Jane, I can still remember. Action squad commando style, I believe. Bubbles, one of her sisters, asked if they’d ever see Buttercup awake again.
“God knows,” he said. “God knows…”
Agent S7, Supreme Overlord of...Stuff! He has returned!
Wow! That was great! Was a dark twisted Powerpuff Girl story! I loved every inch of that dark story. I must say...you have a talent in narating stories! You had my whole attention and I loved the shocker at the end...I would have never guessed it. excellent job!
WRITE MORE!!! =D
A lady with a cool CATtitude
What a beautiful sad and dark fanfic! And the ending...so shocking...never should've guessed she was actually in the hospital.
You're very good! Can't wait to see more work from you!
"You're a cold, calculating woman, Maytag...I like that. Most people associate the words "cold and calculating" with villainy. But in truth, it is that sort of person who capable of the greatest good. In contrast, people who let their emotions rule over them are usually the ones who do the most damage."
, Book 1, Chapter 9, pg 27
Hey S7! Remember me? OK. A murderous PPG story. I was shocked. I actually liked it though.
You brought Joker into a PPG story, and then killed him really quickly. That shocked me too.
Thanx! Sorry I haven't been updating "Raven: Bloodline" it's just that I have a really bad case of writer's block. And you'll notice that I usually, in PPG stories, crossover a lot. Speaking of which, maybe I should post "Samurai Boomer" or "RFT"...
Originally Posted by rrarbecy
(Leaves, keeping readers in suspense...)
Agent S7, Supreme Overlord of...Stuff! He has returned!