A/N: This here is the new prologue, and the previous one will be removed and placed in the second arc as the prologue there. However, I will leave this prologue at the bottom for a few days, and the old prologue above for the same amount of time for the sake of you guys, my readers. Cheers!

A/N: (5 JAN 2019) I've decided to give this prologue another fresh coat of edit, with some additional but minor details added. Surprisingly, no major additions are made so far, despite my pessimistic expectations. This prologue wasn't written and edited in the best of times.

A/N: (14 JAN 2019): I've decided to finally move this new prologue to the beginning. If you're reading this and haven't seen the old prologue, it will be moved to the near-bottom of the fanfic, in case you want to read it. Eventually, it will be moved to the bottom of the fanfic when it is done, as a bonus chapter.

"He who fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster." - Friedrich Nietszche

Prologue: Shape of Things to Come

Townsville. Business District. Morbucks Industries Research Labs.

{String corrupted} DEC 1988 {String corrupted}

"Why are you still fighting, Blossom?" a voice questioned, the emotions surrounding its words a blank, though they were in danger of breaking through. It was a male voice; nasally, and if one was savvy enough when it came to the various cultures of the United States, one could place it in the New York region, Italian descent. "What reasons do you possibly have? To fight for those who hate you?"

Blossom, despite the state of her being, could hear the man's voice loud and clear, over her own loud panting, over her own heavy heartbeats. It wasn't that the man was wrong; it was just that neither was she.

She opened her eyes once more. For a wild second, she thought that she might find herself in bed, waking up from a crazy nightmare. Instead, she was still there, in the empty parking lot before the huge laboratory complex owned by Morbucks Industries, bleeding on the ground as she knelt on one knee, having been bested by her gangly opponent. She shuddered and whimpered as she could feel the cold winter air seep into her wounds, and her blood seeping out from the numerous cuts that had gone through her dark red SWAT helmet, vest, and uniform.

Before her was a curious man who looked nothing like the others on the street or those who had fought against her. The tall, lanky man wielded an equally strange curved sword with a handle long enough to be held with two hands, the sharp edge of its blade shimmering and reflecting the different spectrum of light one time or the other at random intervals. But that wasn't the weird part.

The weird part was his skin, which was green in hue, as if he had been afflicted with some sort of skin disease or another, but the only 'disease' he was afflicted with was a dose of Chemical W, which had enhanced every respect of his body's physical performance, and although his enhancements were no match for Blossom's, his experience had more than made up for it.

And he wasn't the only one of his kind, just as Blossom had two sisters. Behind this green-skinned man were four others of all shapes and sizes, kept back from piling on top of Blossom by the command of their gang boss, mentor, and oyabun - the tall, lanky man, known only as…

The street samurai, Ace. Towering over Blossom but not really muscular at all, his frame was nonetheless a facade to those who would underestimate him. In operations such as this one, he wore a combat vest over black cargo gear. His belt was for holding his sword and submachinegun, but he had drawn the former and thrown the latter to the ground when he initiated his duel with Blossom. His most defining feature, however, was his face. He wore a thin, immature mustache, which betrayed his young age, which would have been a surprise to many because of his occupation. Hiding his eyes, which were usually puffy and pink, was a pair of angular shades, which he wore whether it was day or night.

Blossom did not reply the man. Instead, she glared at him, before jumping up and flying towards him at breakneck speed, despite the blood she was losing. In a blink of an eye, she was next to Ace, throwing a multi-ton punch at him, but Ace had already dodged out of the way, a move that seemed effortless. She could feel the sharp blade of his sword slicing through her back after that, just as she was changing her course and delivering a roundhouse kick at him, which Ace, again, dodged simply by ducking slightly under and to the left. Blossom had followed it up seamlessly with a punch, but Ace was simply no longer there. Instead, she could see him at a corner of her eyes, swinging his sword at her; sticking her arm out, she blocked the swipe by intercepting the hand wielding the sword.

With her other hand, Blossom thrust a straight punch aimed at Ace's throat, a kill-shot, which Ace nullified by headbutting her fist. Talented and experienced though he was, he did not expect his counter-move to hurt too much, so he stumbled back, slightly stunned, just as Blossom retreated, clutching her fist, which she couldn't unfurl anymore because of the paralyzing pain.

Sensing an opportunity, Ace charged at Blossom, his sword, his deadly demigoddess-killer, not far behind. Afraid, Blossom stared at Ace's chest, and willed her eyes to heat up, and out came a twin beam of red, concentrated heat energy.

The beams were hard to dodge, considering that they travelled at the speed of light, but Ace had anticipated it, and before Blossom could do any damage beyond singing his Kevlar vest, he sidestepped the beams and was up close to her within a tick. The enhanced little girl had tried to turn her head to burn him with her beam, but he had gotten up behind her and seized her by the forehead and chest, such that she couldn't turn her head to adjust her aim. Her brilliant red beam of heat shot into the sky harmlessly and she struggled and fought against the man restraining her. Her arms were similarly trapped by Ace's grasp. It was an unpleasant sensation, being restrained by a sweaty criminal invading her personal space.

The moment she felt the street samurai's blade on her neck, she knew that all was lost, and she ceased the flow of her heat beam. She gasped tiredly, but also because she was mortally afraid of what might happen next.

"Stupid, naive little girl," Ace condescended, but he had other reasons for saying so. "You think they'd appreciate you for what you're doing? They'll toss you aside the moment they think you're useless."

"That's not true! You're lying!" Blossom shrieked. There were so many good people in the world, just as there were so many bad ones, and this Ace was one of them for saying such things, for working with the very same people who had hurt her sisters, Bubbles, and Buttercup. She knew he was lying, because among the 'normal' people of the world was her Daddy, Professor Utonium, her Mom, Agent Blake and his men, those good men. There was General Blake, Psychiatrist Alice, and so many other good people.

"Am I? Or are they?" Ace challenged her claim rhetorically.

Townsville. Business District. Morbucks Industries Research Labs.

{String corrupted} DEC 1988 {String corrupted}

Elsewhere at the Morbucks Industries Research Labs, Bubbles and Buttercup were racing into the building itself, where they could hear the rapid staccato of gunshots. Buttercup had heard it long before they came to the scene because of her enhanced sense of hearing. That was how they knew where to go before they had to leave Blossom.

They were armed and armored to the teeth like Blossom, though unlike Blossom, they hadn't tossed their weapons to the ground in the name of 'fairness' and 'honor', as Ace had put it. Dressed in full SWAT gear, with helmet, vest, guards on knees, elbows, shoulders, and thighs, they were practically ready for war. As they hadn't learned to project heat or do anything similar like Blossom, their USDO-issued weapons were far more important to them. Bubbles was armed with a stockless XM4 carbine while Buttercup had a Stoner LMG. They both had MP5s for backup and compact P226s as last resorts. But their personal armory was nothing compared to what they were created with - raw physical strength, speed, and agility, among other things - and who knew what else, as they were always discovering new abilities.

"Those poor people! We have to save them, Buttercup!" Bubbles exclaimed halfway to the building. As they were running, streaks of light were trailing behind them - Bubbles' was baby blue while Buttercup's was lime-green.

"Who cares!? I'm just here to kick some butt!" Buttercup replied, just before they busted through the entrance into the labs. When they did, they found themselves in some sort of huge and wide-open reception area. There was enough space to hold a party for hundreds, and a party was likely held during Christmas not too long ago, as streamers and Christmas trees and other Yuletide-themed decorations were still hanging. Before them was a reception area where a dozen or more receptionists could be working.

But there weren't any receptionists there to greet them, for they were either at home (fortunately) or forced to sit on the floor behind the desks at gunpoint by masked terrorists.

Bubbles and Buttercup weren't alone, and the Foundation wasn't going to make it easy for them. As soon as they were inside, eight or so men popped out of the reception desks. More had been patrolling the reception hall, and they sprinted into cover behind pillars and furniture. Snipers took up positions on the second floor overlooking the first. They were all a ragtag army of misfits, with no standard uniform, bringing in a wide range of equipment.

Bodies were scattered throughout the hall. They were mostly security guards employed by Morbucks Industries, but a few had been SWAT officers belonging to a rapid response force deployed by the USDO, the United States Defence Organization, the same organization who had employed Professor Utonium, who created Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, also known notoriously as 'The Three' by Townsville, under Project Powerpuff.

"Not so fast, you two!" one of the terrorists warned as he dragged one of the receptionists before the two subjects of Project Powerpuff. "One wrong move and this pretty lady here is dead! Just turn around and walk away, little lasses, and things won't get ugly!"

Buttercup smiled from ear to ear her sadistic smile, in anticipation of what was coming. It was men and women like the terrorists arrayed against them right now who made her suffer - she couldn't remember all of it, but from what Professor Utonium and Blossom said, she was actually killed at the Townsville Port, only to be brought back again. They were going to pay for how she was hurt and humiliated, and she was going to make sure they do so with interest. Bubbles, too, was mortally wounded and nearly killed by sniper fire, but Buttercup cared much less about that.

Without saying a word, Buttercup charged to the middle of the reception hall and jumped up high.

"Buttercup, no!" Bubbles screamed, but it was too late. The terrorist who warned them shot the receptionist he was holding in the head and let the corpse fall, the blood streaking in the air. He hadn't been bluffing at all, and both of the little girls knew it. Bubbles stared in horror when Buttercup's rashness and selfishness had caused another death.

The terrorists responded by doing what criminals do best - raining on their parade with a storm of lead, which Buttercup laughed off as the metal raindrops bounced off her skin when she did a double-jump to get to the second floor. Sure, they were painful and annoying from the way they pushed her around, but she had gotten used to it over the course of multiple battles, not that bad guys like them could ever aim straight.

"Buttercup, what about me!?" Bubbles screamed as she covered her face when the terrorists on the ground floor started shooting at her too, shredding away bits of her combat gear and uniform at the same time. Buttercup did not respond from the second floor, which was typical of her. Left to her own devices, Bubbles ran for cover behind a pillar, which the terrorists soon began peppering with bullets in earnest.

Buttercup could hear it - there were more terrorists deeper inside the complex, engaging in a firefight against the remainder of whatever Morbucks security forces were still present and loyal, backed only by a small cadre of USDO rapid response teams. Why they were here to shoot and kill, Buttercup did not know. Buttercup did not care. She was just here to shoot and kill, and shoot and kill she did: Having double-jumped to reach the second floor, she vaulted over the railing and unslung her huge Stoner light machinegun. As the terrorists were scrambling to rearrange their battle line in a vain attempt to respond adequately to Buttercup, the tomboy began firing freely, mowing down the most stubborn of them all - several men and women who had stood their ground and continued their sustained barrage of assault weapons firing.

On the ground floor, Bubbles peeked out of her cover - her weapons wasn't even drawn yet. But what she saw at the reception area had her reconsider her peaceful ways. A terrorist with a revolver was pointing his gun at one of a group of other hostages, all of whom were forced to kneel on the floor and put their hands on their heads - they were receptionists and all-nighter office workers mainly. Only one of the hostages was prepared to die, and he was a badly wounded USDO soldier who continued to insult and spat at the terrorists even from his helpless position. Another terrorist had to pistol-whip him into silence. The other hostages looked terrified; whimpering and begging, crying and wailing and trying to reason in broken gasps and barely intelligible words between sobs with their captors.

'BAM!' the moment the revolver terrorist shot one of them in the head, in cold blood, Bubbles could feel her blood chill, her bones frozen to the core. Almost nonchalantly, the executioner terrorist cocked his revolver and moved on to the next gibbering, pleading and helpless civilian in line. That was when Bubbles flew into action, literally, even though she hadn't quite mastered flight yet.

Bubbles' flight path was unsteady, but her aim was true. Slamming into the executioner, she sent herself and the evil, bad man flying halfway across the hall, tumbling the rest of the way. He was dashed upon a pillar, and Bubbles got to use him as a cushion. A sticky, bloody cushion. But she didn't have time to be mortified by her own actions. More terrorists were shooting at her on the ground floor, and some of them had shot her in the chest, which hurt more because of the wounds there, which were still mending from the Duranium shells that had tore through her days ago.

"Stop it!" Bubbles cried as she felt more bullets were pouring in from all sides, stinging her everywhere.

Back on the second floor, Buttercup had just run out of ammunition for her machine gun. Although she had a couple more boxes hanging on her vest, she had never cultivated a habit for reloading - it was just too much work in the middle of a hairy situation. Instead, she dropped her machinegun and closed in on the remaining terrorists she did not gun down.

They were still hiding behind pillars and walls, unlike her. Through this, Buttercup knew that the bad guys she was up against were afraid of her. They were cowards, and since she, Buttercup, had no need to hide, she was the opposite of that. Running towards a pillar and curving around to get a good view of the two terrorists taking cover there, she launched herself at them foot-first as they were desperately firing their weapons - a shotgun and a submachinegun. The first one ducked just in time, so Buttercup had ended up splattering the second man against the wall. The force of the impact was so strong that her foot had sunk all the way into the terrorist. She could feel organs and spine alike pulverizing against the wall, with blood getting squeezed out like juice out of an orange.

The terrorist she missed didn't last much longer. The outmatched woman had done the smart thing - running away. She just wasn't fast enough. Buttercup had caught up to her within a second, driving her fist through her back, completely destroying her heart, and before her body had hit the floor, Buttercup was already sprinting away, green trail in her wake, searching for other prey. She didn't have to look far, as more were taking cover behind Greek pillars, and she simply smashed through one to get at another terrorist.

Back below, Bubbles had taken refuge behind a pillar, panting as she was clutching her chest. It was hurting very badly from being aggravated by gunshots. In the middle of the reception area, the civilian she saved had taken to hiding behind the reception desks. The lone fighter among them, the USDO soldier, had resumed fighting by taking down the terrorist who had pistol-whipped him while he was distracted, looting his corpse and shooting back at the terrorists, only to attract too much attention and jeopardizing his life along with his fellow hostages'.

Bubbles was forced to act again, dashing to the columns where the ground floor terrorists were arrayed against the hostages and her. Not wanting to kill even if the situation warranted it, she gave the first Foundation agent a push, and when he was on the floor, punched the daylights out of him. When there were two, she would give the two of them a push before punching them hard enough to knock them out too, all the while getting shot at, the only good news being that they hadn't figured out her weakness in the chest yet.

Back above, Buttercup was finishing off the remainder of the second-floor terrorists. The remaining few were huddled against the railing as she had corralled them off against it. There was just the three of them left, and two of them had run out of ammo for their main armaments and were popping off shots at Buttercup with their pistols. The tomboy ran towards them, speeding into a sprint, before tackling the three of them, the sheer force of her attack destroying the railing behind them, breaking bone against metal, throwing the terrorists off the second floor. They plunged back to the ground floor, Buttercup and her victims screaming, the former with joy and ecstasy, the latter men with fear as they were either killed or were severely maimed by the fall.

There were no more gunshots after that. The reception hall was still. When Buttercup got up to dust herself off, shaking dented bullets off her vest and uniform, there was one more challenge she had to face: Bubbles.

"You left me behind, Buttercup!" Bubbles screeched as she marched up to her sister, one hand clutching her chest, the other pointing accusingly at Buttercup.

"Hey, you did fine, didn't you?" Buttercup countered, crossing her arms. "Looks like the first time you stood up for yourself. I'm surprised you survived, Bubbles."

"Survived? Survived!?" Bubbles came up to Buttercup, almost in a panic, seizing her by the vest. "They were killing me, Buttercup! They were hurting me really badly! And those poor people! Why, Buttercup!?"

"Bubbles! Get off me!" Buttercup yelled, pushing her sister off her, overdoing it, as she had pushed her to the ground, and she had exerted too much pressure on her chest.

Bubbles fell to the ground, clutching her chest with both her hands. "Ow!" she cried.

"Wha- I didn't even-" Buttercup said, unable to believe that Bubbles could react so severely to a push. "Stop being such a crybaby and get up, Bubs!"

"I'm telling Daddy after this!" Bubbles sobbed, tearful.

"But I was just-" Buttercup was genuinely shocked at the consequence of her actions. Had Blossom been here, she would have made sure the consequences were worse for Buttercup. But she wasn't here. Knowing her sisters, Buttercup knew that Bubbles would likely tell on her, if not with Blossom then with their Daddy, Professor Utonium. "I didn't even mean it!"

"Then say sorry and I won't tell," Bubbles offered both her proposal and a hand for Buttercup to right her wrong by pulling her up. "Please?" She still had a hand on her chest, because her 'old' wound still hurt.

Buttercup accepted the hand and pulled Bubbles to her feet, but she kept her mouth shut, and was anything but apologetic as she arched her eyebrows and frowned at Bubbles. As far as she was concerned, Bubbles was wrong for being so weak and vulnerable

But before either of them could say anything else, they could hear footsteps, numerous sets of them. More Foundation-affiliated terrorists were streaming in from deep within the complex. Bubbles gave a shivering sigh.

They began shooting, and one of them pointed an odd-looking weapon at them. A huge-calibre beast, crudely made with no magazine attached, the moment it was fired, the entire assembly of the weapon split apart in an explosion, and the shooter himself was injured by the chamber explosion. The strange shooter tumbled to the ground, unmoving. The bullet that was fired had hit Buttercup. For a moment, it felt like any other weapon, but when she looked down, she saw that there was a hole in her arm, and it was bleeding profusely, the blood already staining half her right sleeve. The sight scared her - it was the first time ever that she had been wounded by gunshot. She felt faint and sunk to the ground as she was moaning and crying in pain. It wasn't any ordinary bullet. It was made of Duranium, just like the ones that were fired upon Bubbles.

Bubbles knew better what to do - she'd been there before, and her wounds had been far worse. She pulled Buttercup into cover behind a pillar.

"This is Delta-Three, where's our reinforcement!? My squad is losing ground and civilians are dying! We need backup! Please! Over!" one of the USDO rapid response team soldier said over the radio. Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup could hear it loud and clear, wherever they were.

The defensive operation was falling apart, despite the Girls' best efforts, despite the USDO's perfect execution and performance. It was at this critical moment, as Blossom was brought low once again, as Buttercup was unexpectedly injured and Bubbles had to cower with her, that all of 'The Three' could not help but to think back to the past, and reminisce about the simpler times, back when life was free of worry, free of pain. Sure, there were times when they were miserable, but Daddy and Mommy were always there to make things right. With her eidetic memory, she could remember those days, right up to the very second she had awakened for the first time…