Alternate Ending

(Because I couldn't figure out how far I wanted to go. This is at least worth a read, and totally worth telling me which ending you like better. XD )

"Look, Ace, I'm not saying I have grudge. But I really feel like that bastard still has a price to pay, you know? So, um, if you see him – green skin, greasy black hair, handcuffed naked to his bed – could you tell him something for me? Tell him I think he's a loser, an asswipe, and most definitely a lousy fuck."

"Buttercup! No! What are you doing?" Ace yanked at his wrists, frantically shaking the headboard and trying to escape. Buttercup smirked.

"The police station is close by," she said. "If you scream loud enough, they'll hear you, and they'll help you. In fact, because I do have a heart, I'll tip them off. What do you say? But I gotta go. I have to get back to school."

"Are you serious?!" Ace cried. "Let me go! I'll die here! No!"

"You won't die," Buttercup laughed, rolling her eyes. "The cops'll just find you and laugh their asses off, trying to figure out how you got yourself into this."

"You… you little…" Ace stammered. "You'll be sorry for this!"

"Oh, because they'll believe you? Me? Buttercup? Fucking you and handcuffing you to the bed? Nah. Tell them a stripper left you hanging. Ha! Get it? Hanging?" Buttercup burst into laughter, probably more amused than necessary. Ace seethed and fought again with the cuffs. He sank back into the bed, his face twisted into the vilest of expressions.

"I can't believe this is happening to me," he grumbled.

"Sucks to be you, don't it?" Buttercup asked. She strutted over to the door, and then glanced back at him. "You won't be breaking anymore hearts, now, will you?"

"You'll pay for this!" Ace yelled fiercely. But Buttercup ignored him again, and stepped out of the shack, leaving him to wallow in his own embarrassment. Buttercup flew over the shack, still hearing Ace cursing from inside. She knew he'd be just fine, and the cops really would find him in an hour at the least. She'd check back in a few hours to be sure.

Buttercup zoomed over to the high school, and landed on the aluminum bleachers with a small clatter. She noticed a small group of boys underneath, happily puffing away on cigarettes. Buttercup heard a familiar voice, and immediately leapt down behind them. One of the boys jumped and turned around.

"Holy shit! Buttercup!" Mitch Mitchelson cried. He dropped his cigarette and frantically stomped it out.

"Hi," Buttercup laughed, waving a hand. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"What are you doing?" Mitch asked, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it. Buttercup swiftly stole the pack and popped a cigarette in her mouth. She smirked. Mitch stared at her, dazed, and then lit it for her. She took a small drag.

"Thanks."

"Buttercup, did you do something with your hair?" Jack, one of the others boys, asked. Buttercup eyed him and ran a hand through her hair.

"No…"

"It looks different," he said. "It looks… nice."

"What the fuck, Jack? Are you hitting on Buttercup?" Mitch asked, jabbing his friend on the arm.

"No!" Jack cried defensively. "I was just asking…"

"Creeper," Buttercup chuckled, taking another puff. She then took it from her mouth and stepped to Jack. She placed it in his mouth and she smiled. She whipped around and took off towards the school, a small bounce in her step. She almost had to keep herself from swishing her hips. She could feel Jack's eyes on her, following her, and strangely, she didn't mind. She'd usually knock out any guy that even remotely looked at her that way. But Buttercup was actually enjoying the attention. How? She didn't know. She didn't really care. Maybe it was the sex. Maybe it was the revenge. Maybe it was combination of the two. Maybe it was the liberating feeling of a successful rebellion.

That was it. That was how she felt.

Liberated.