Insert worthless not legally binding in court disclaimer stuff here. Like a good communist, I own nothing.

WARNING:
The following pages contain some fairly graphic violence. O.O

"Gauntlet: Diaspora"
Part 4

'Preview'

June 15

"They're coming. We... we've done all we can. All any reasonable people can."

"You're condemning..." She made a move, as if to reach for the door controls.

He intercepted her. "I'm doing what I can."

"Let go of my arm, John. I'm not going to ask you again."

"You're not going out there. You're not turning yourself into a martyr!" His eyes narrowed. "You think you can..."

"Damn you, John." She pushed away from him, and he let go of her arm. "You don't need to lecture me."

"No. No I don't." He looked down at his clenched fists. "This... this is all my fault... But... I couldn't leave you behind with all the rest, Sarah. I couldn't. You're too important to me."

Miss Bellum couldn't reply; couldn't think of anything to say. Her mind rolled back and forth, and her emotions were a rollarcoaster of extremes. She hated the man that stood in front of her. His hubris, and that of those like him, had destroyed the world - leveled everything she had ever held dear. Yet, he was so... broken in spirit, so juxtaposed with the kind loving man she had known for over a year.

The silence of the moment was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the generator that kept the lights on, and the rest of the world out. After all that Professor Utonium had been through in the last few hours, in the last two months, how could she damn him? He was alone. He had always been alone.

So had she.

"Maybe..." She started, softly, and he looked up, his eyes meeting her's. "Maybe we're both damned. John."

A small smile tugged at the side of his mouth.

"I want to know everything this time." With a jerk, Miss Bellum brought him close, eye to eye. "From the beginning. Or so help me, Utonium...!"

She never finished her sentence.

...

From the shadows of a dark room, Bubbles silently watched, with a mixture of curiosity and concern.Adults were strange creatures, with strange ways. She had never even imagined that the Professor could kiss someone goodnight like that. In her arms, something small and soft chuckled at the display.

"What is it, Octi?" She asked, quietly. Wordlessly, she got an answer from the octopus doll. "No, I don't suppose Blossom would approve of us watching, would she?"

Silence.

Silence.

Outside the room, outside the house that was their shelter and their prison, the world burned.

Silence.

'Sonata'

June 14

Boomer.

Blossom.

Buttercup.

Butch.

Their bodies hit the ground limply, one next to another, all in a rough circle. Around them, their copies stood, motionless, mute, and waiting. Nearby, the newly arrived supervillain team, mercenaries all, held to consciousness by a thread. Defeated and incapacitated, they were simply thrown aside like so much garbage.

The streets and buildings were deathly devoid of noise - the population of the entire area had wisely fled when the fighting began, hours ago. Sharp winds blew down from between massive buildings, their howl and the occasional screech of car alarms the only music to a listener's ears.

Overhead, alone, Bubbles watched and waited.

Her double looked over the scene as well, keeping a comfortable distance from the true blonde Powerpuff. Finally, she made a tiny, almost invisible, motion to her mute compatriots. The pseudo-Blossom went first, and leaned over the original. One hand out, she touched the girl's forehead. An electric jolt seemed to shoot through the leader of the Powerpuff Girls, and then there was nothing.

The pseudo-Blossom stepped back.

Boomer was next. His copy reached down, with his right hand, and rested it on the other boy's brow. Boomer's eyes shot open, and he made a strangled gasp, before his entire body relaxed completely. His eyes remained open - unblinking, looking forever upwards to the impotent heavens, and to the wild skies he had so enjoyed reveling in.

The pseudo-Boomer stepped away.

Groaning, Butch blinked, and saw his counterpart standing over him, waiting for his turn. Snorting, Butch tasted blood, and almost as an afterthought, he looked to his side, and saw the others. Buttercup: she was still unconscious, and looked like she had swam a dozen laps in a pool full of piranha. Then, he focused on Blossom and Boomer. They weren't breathing.

"No... Boomer... Blossom..." He reached out, but grimaced as a foot slammed onto his chest, pinning him to the ground. He looked up into the emotionless eyes of the other Butch.

Out of nowhere, he saw the other Buttercup - in perfect condition - reach over to the one he knew. She rested her palm on the green Powerpuff's temple, and in that instant, Buttercup woke up. Her neck craned from the shock of the contact, looking away from her mindless killer... to him. His eyes met hers, and an entirely different sort of contact was made. Butch could only watch as the sparkling green life in her eyes faded.

And died.

Blinking back tears, he saw Blossom again. They had never gotten along, but... but... to see her like this, so spiritless, so beaten, sent a shot of pain into his chest. Just like Brick. He had given his life for her, and for what? To have her killed just days later? He saw Boomer, and the tears truly began to flow. His brother... his family... he had nothing now. What kind of brother was he that could do nothing to save his own kin? His own kith? Again, he looked into Buttercup's eyes.

"Greeneyes."

He wasn't sure whether he'd said the word, or just thought it. It didn't matter. He didn't need to see anything except her eyes to know she was dead. To know that all she was, all he had... had... so relished in her... was gone. Gone. Everything was gone.

Everything was dead.

He was dead.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a hand reaching down, slowly, purposefully. It wanted to take his life. It wanted to end what its companions had begun when they killed all he loved, all he had ever come to value. Quite simply, it wanted Butch to die.

He caught the hand by the wrist.

His double was too late. Far too late. Deep inside, Butch was already dead and buried. Replaced by something else entirely. Something primal, something older - something burning with hate and living for destruction. He didn't so much want to live, no:

"I want..." The hand's forward momentum was checked. "You..." And pushed back. "TO DIE!!"

With a feral roar, Butch threw back his assailant. The pseudo-Butch was thrown back, and as he got to his feet, Butch pulled his grip down and twisted, snapping his double's right arm as the wrist and elbow. Pulling him forward, Butch buried his knee in the copy's gut, stepped forward, snapping the arm at the shoulder, and threw the broken half of a body into a parked car.

It exploded in a shower of flame.

Bits of debris and a drizzle of ash floated to the ground.

"You're all dead." Butch's arms shook with cold fury. "You're all walking corpses!!"

With just a glance, the doubles of Boomer and Blossom shot forward, like bullets. Butch avoided the former, but got hit by the latter square in the chest. Gritting his teeth, and hardening his body, he braced himself for the inevitable impact. When it came, through one building, and clear into another, the wall of steel and glass gave, crumpling and deforming.

Butch hit the ground on both feet.

Only to be hit from behind by the false Bubbles, at nearly top speed. He twisted from the blow, and let his inertia carry him off her impaling fists. He dropped off to the side, but managed enough finesse to reach up and grab one of her ankles. With an unintelligible war cry, he forced his direction downward, assisted by gravity. The pseudo-Bubbles struggled in his grip, and kicked him in the back of the head.

Butch tasted blood.

But when he slammed the fake Bubbles down onto the sidewalk, his opponent was little more than but. The very ground seemed to liquefy from the point of impact; flow like thick black water, a millisecond before hardening and shattering into a billion pieces. Butch floated backwards, and watched as the entire area, a broken crater some forty or fifty feet across, fell apart and down into some old subway tunnel, thirty or more feet below.

Two feet greeted him when he started to turn around.

Only to be followed up, as he careened through the air from the blow, with an earth shattering haymaker to the jaw. He saw a hint of dark blue, and then pink, as pseudo-Boomer and Blossom darted around him. Eye beams burned into his back, and blows rained down on him at a tempo no human eye could follow.

The green Rowdyruff felt a tooth chip off as a particularly fierce blow came in the form of a flying uppercut. Spitting out a wad of blood and saliva, Butch finally caught one of them coming in at top speed to finish him off. Calculating his next move with ruthless and deliberately vicious forethought, at the last second he finally pounced. Ducking between the two attacking fists, he grabbed onto the pseudo-Blossom's head, felt his fingers run through her silken hair, and latch below the side of her temples, where her jaw met her skull.

Pushing up and squeezing down, he unlocked the joints, and snapped the head back with a deafening crack. If one listened, they would have then heard the sound of bone on bone, and the tortured pop of her neck being broken beyond repair. Not entirely finished, he slammed the body into not just one building, but another, and another, and another.

"I'll kill every one of you!" He let go of the smashed remains of her hair; watched the red mass wave in the breeze between buildings. With a fist empowered by rage, glowing green with energy, he emptied it all into her still falling form. The pseudo-Blossom was hit, full force, blowing a hole straight through the tower, through twenty floors at an angle, out the other end, and into the ground, carving a long furrow in the street.

"Where are you?" Butch looked around for the thing that wore the semblance of his brother. "SHOW YOURSELF!!"

Again, Butch was hit from behind.

The pseudo-Boomer's blows came and went, as he hit quickly only to speed away. Butch would pursue, only to be cut off by the fake Buttercup, who had finally entered the fight. The three super powered beings sparred and warred through the twisted and creaking structure of the glass and steel tower, while up above, Bubbles watched as the quickly recovering Butch double gained in altitude.

Finally, the false boy's eyes widened, and flared with power.

Crimson flame lanced from his emotionless azure eyes, and into the building. It was desiccated almost effortlessly, and as the pieces started to rain down to the earth, the wind began to pick up. In a second, a tornado, birthed from inside, tore the remains of the building, little more than a tattered skeleton, into less than rubble. Still, Bubbles watched, as chunks of flaming metal and glass spread out over the city, carried by the wayward gale force winds.

At its heart, Butch roared.

And the earth shook.

Three of them struck at once, and as one. The fake Buttercup came in first, pounding away at his kidneys, while the wounded pseudo-Butch blazed away with his eye beams. Butch writhed, in frustration, pain and rage, even as Boomer swooped in, caving in the green Rowdyruff's face with a flying kick. But the blow wasn't enough: the Buttercup impostor continued to pound away at him even as he flew through the air, ultimately crashing into Townsville Central Park.

Butch blinked.

He wasn't dead yet.

He wouldn't die... couldn't die... not before them. Through a haze of pain and blows, he saw the face of the girl that he felt closest to, and most damned because of. It was exactly her, down to the smallest detail. Save the eyes. There was no spark in them - no trace of Buttercup.

It was just a doll in her image.

"I'll kill you." He whispered, and caught one of the fists. His body started to shake, his heart pound blood, and his mind scream the call for vengeance anew. In his hand, her fist cracked and disappeared in a spray of white blood.

"I'll kill you!!" He drew her forward, and into a head butt. Her head snapped back from the blow, and Butch let go of her mangled hand. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Muscles tearing, he struck, again and again. He didn't want to see her face! Not like that! "I'LL KILL YOU!!"

The pseudo-Buttercup staggered back, her face a broken semblance of its former self. Still, from what was left of her eyes, red fire poured forth freely, slamming and cutting into the brunette Rowdyruff. Butch's feet cut twin ditches in the ground as he resisted the energy. He was holding his own, until two and then four beams converged on his upper body. All around him, grass combusted in proximity to the heat, going up in a great spreading wildfire. Until, eventually, there seemed nothing more to existence than a world of flame and pain.

Like dipping into an endless well, Butch's rage escaped his mouth. The fires died, as the ground simply became swept away. Back, ever more, the beams pushed him, until Butch felt something against his back: a telephone pole. It instantly caught fire, and then snapped in half. Burning wires, sparking and hissing, fell from above, but provided just enough distraction for Butch to escape the only way he could.

Down.

A heartbeat later, he tore up out of the ground, and charged the thickest gathering of targets. Again, the beams came crashing down, but they weren't enough. Lapping heat and energy hit the Rowdyruff, cut into his shoulders and chest, but for all their damage and pain, these things meant nothing to Butch now. His momentum carried him ever forward, and into the fake Boomer.

"Die." Butch's flattened palm struck, like a coiled cobra, directly into the false Boomer's mouth. Forming a fist, he locked it there, and with a titanic display of strength, spun and struck out at the nearest enemy. Using the Boomer double like a boxing glove, he crashed him into the fake Butch with a loud splatter and crack. The other Butch floated back, stunned, trying to wipe the white blood and broken tissue off his face.

"Die." Butch then turned to the pseudo-Buttercup, and buried his Boomer-fist into her stomach. When she leaned forward from the blow, he savagely backhanded her down to the earth. Now, alone in the air, a smoking charred mess of a Rowdyruff, his arms and chest blackened by heat, Butch looked down at his right hand.

With a sharp crack and a wet splatter, he tore his fist loose.

Landing near where the pseudo-Buttercup had fallen, Butch's eyes narrowed to deadly slits. Reaching down, he picked her up, and wrapped his arm around her throat. These things that took the form and power of those he had loved didn't breathe, so Butch didn't bother even trying to choke the creature in his deadly grip. With pure and simple relentless, merciless strength, he hooked one leg around her two, holding them in place, and leaned all the way back. The pseudo-Buttercup's entire body stretched, and her spine split and broke in a dozen places at once.

"Die!" His arm tightened even more around her throat, to the point where he could feel what was left of the bones there breaking the surface. With all his strength, with all his anger, with every fiber of his being, he snapped his arm down, and up, popping her head off like the bud of a flower. The creature that looked so much like his favorite Powerpuff fell to the ground, and Butch screamed to the heavens.

"DIE!! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!! DO YOU HEAR ME!?"

Up above, the still wounded pseudo-Butch almost seemed to pause in abject terror, but then blinked, and attacked. Butch received him with something akin to perverse joy, and the two danced. Across the length of the City Park, they warred - shockwaves from their blows shook the ground, and knocked over anything standing. Within seconds, no tree, no swing set, hardly even a blade of grass, still stood in Townsville Central Park.

Finally, something fast and green fell to the ground, broken and bloody. Butch stood over his double, breathing heavily, dried blood, red and white, covering him like a second skin. He had several broken ribs, a good deal of internal bleeding, burns over most of his body, and his left eye was swollen to the point where he could hardly see in front of him. Distantly, he knew all this, and didn't care.

"Die, you bastard. Die!" With a sneer, he placed his right foot on the other Butch's collarbone, and pressed down. He didn't stop, didn't relent, until the chest was little more than a broken birdcage, and he had nearly hit ground. Wiping a long thread of blood from his lower lip, he looked up into the clear blue sky and felt the rage drift away with the wind.

Only to be replaced by resignation.

"Boomer... Blossom... Buttercup..." He blinked, the tears stinging his eyes. "Greeneyes..." He almost choked at the word. "For you... An honor guard... an honor guard..."

He fell to his knees, but strangely, didn't feel anything anymore.

Just a certain... numbness.

Feeling a little dizzy and light headed, he blinked, and saw something light blue in front of him. His arms felt unbearably heavy, so he had to settle for blinking a few times - trying to clear his vision. Yes: he could see the blonde hair. It was her. She had survived.

"Bubbles..." Butch coughed, and reached out for her. "I'm sorry I couldn't... they're all... all..." Butch tasted bile, and saw that Bubbles wasn't moving. "Bubbles... what...?"

She blinked, and pushed him, hard.

He ended up on his back.

Time seemed distorted, and after closing his eyes for what seemed like only a moment, he saw a green and white blur over him. His mind denied it. His heart raged against it. No. No! NO!!

"No..." Butch reached up, weakly, at the green double he had thought dead. "No... I'll kill you..."

The figure stood, mutely, mocking him.

"I'll kill you..."

Butch's arm felt so heavy. So damn heavy.

"I'll kill you...!"

Still, he reached up.

"I'll KILL you!"

And then a cold hand touched his forehead, and everything became black.

'Finale'

The pseudo-Butch straightened his back, and looked at his blonde companion. He had hardly even gotten a moment to himself, when, suddenly, something fast landed next to him and grabbed onto his head. Bubbles leaned in close to his ear, and screamed. He tensed, made as if to escape, or raise a defense, but by that time it was already too late. His injuries, not fully regenerated, left him exposed and vulnerable. Bubbles' mouth went from wide to narrow, focusing the attack as her yell became even higher in tone.

The impostor Rowdyruff fell out of Bubbles' hands.

His brain nearly liquefied.

Bubbles' scream trailed off, and she pivoted slightly, until she was face to face with her double. The other Bubbles seemed stunned by the turn of events. She inclined her head, eyes questioning. Her mouth never moved or opened, but the pseudo-Bubbles' alien inhuman voice was heard clearly by the Powerpuff Girl.

"What are you doing?" It asked, simply.

Bubbles didn't reply at first. Octi had warned her not to talk to the Enemy. She knew what she had to do. She had known, since last night, or to be more accurate, she had very close to known. Even now, with him not around, she heard Octi's voice, barely a whisper this far away, urging her to strike. To finish this One.

"I see now." The pseudo-Bubbles narrowed her blank blue eyes. "You and I are not alike. You are not alone."

Like lightning, Bubbles tackled her quarry, and forced her to the ground. The other Bubbles was still recovering from Butch's attacks, and while she appeared nearly regenerated, her state was more than a little less than perfect. Bubbles took advantage of the fact that she was fresh and completely unhurt. She pressed her palm to the fake's forehead, and concentrated.

The other Bubbles' struggled: mind and body.

Somewhere immaterial, Octi attacked, and tangled the pestilence in his tentacles. The other Bubbles' mind heaved against the strands binding her, and in that weakness, Bubbles saw victory. The Doubles were all connected, spiritually, to their 'real' counterparts, which was why they were, at first, seemingly immortal. They could not die, so long as their counterparts lived; they would just regenerate and return to fight again. When the others had fallen in battle, weakened and overexerted, the fakes had literally sucked the souls out of their counterparts, completing the circle.

It had also left them vulnerable and able to be killed.

Eventually leaving only this one.

The final fragment of the Living Core would be within this last one, appropriately enough. Yet, this pseudo-Bubbles would not die. She was connected, still, to her living counterpart. Luckily, Otci had fortified her for this moment. Hand still on the other Bubbles' brow, Bubbles focused like she had never focused before.

"No!" The inhuman creature cried, as it felt the spiritual tug of war shift against it. "No! ... Not the Abyss! Not Oblivion!"

"Yes." Bubbles pressed her advantage.

"You... don't understand...! This... this world will burn before the dreamer dies! You don't know...!" The pseudo-Bubbles shook violently for all of a second, and then became deathly still, and said no more. Bubbles broke the contact between them, and jumped back just as the Powerpuff mimic exploded in a great pillar of red, orange and black gas. All around the city, similar plumes sprouted and rose high into the air, five in all, crowning the city like royalty.

And blanketing it in cleansing fire.

The tumult was over as quickly and abruptly as it had occurred.

Surveying all that around her, Bubbles slowly shook her head. It had all come to pass just as she had seen in her dreams. Still, something within her insisted that this wasn't the end. Something within her thought back to better times, and looked forward with hope. Yes: hope. She hadn't felt that in what seemed like an eternity.

"d... don't move..."

Bubbles turned slightly, and saw a man, and a face, obscured by a cracked red visor. She didn't remember his name, but she did remember him from before. Apparently he had not only survived the fight he'd gotten caught up in, but he was still up and about. One arm hanging limp by his side, Burnsday still held a rather large weapon in his other arm fairly steadily. He had it trained directly on her.

A small tube traced a line up his neck and into the base of his jaw.

It pulsed with Chemical X.

Bubbles tensed to move out of the way.

"I said don't move!" Burnsday growled, somewhat weakly. Still, his aim shifted appropriately, following her smallest motion. The chipped and damaged armor he wore was barely holding together, and occasionally sparking in demonstration of that fact.

Bubbles only wondered one thing.

"Why?"

Burnsday's eyes almost shut, but he didn't blink. "Nothing... personal." He paused. "A Contract."

"A contract?"

"A deal. You... your buddies..." Burnsday slowly smiled. "And the brat. 'Course..." He coughed. "I'd do that one for free."

"Princess?" Bubbles' eyes darted back and forth, looking for something to distract him with. "I thought she had hired you guys..."

"You never heard of Downsizing? Morebucks money. Ain't none of it Princess's." His smile faded. "With you two gone, I'll retire... with all the X and all the money I'll ever need..."

"And the other two?"

"Those idiots?" Burnsday seemed to recover a bit. Still, the thought of the Artist Formerly Known as Major Man and the aptly named Hate Male wasn't an endearing one. "Don't make me laugh! Right now I couldn't care less what happens to them."

"But... I saved you..." Bubbles held out her hands. "Remember? From Brick?"

"So?"

"You owe us!"

Burnsday paused at that, giving it a bit of thought. Finally he spoke. "I don't think so. You three just stood there and watched. That little prick damn near killed me... again..."

Bubbles fumed.

"Still... he's done me some good, in the long run."

Bubbles curiosity perked up at that. "What?"

Burnsday let out a short laugh. "Yeah... I've got it figured out, ya see. The Prof - your old man - he knows it all... The world's gonna go to hell, and I'm gonna be well armed when it does. Carve out a little piece of land for myself... maybe Australia..."

"I don't understand..."

"Yer not supposed to." Burnsday's trigger finger got ready to depress as the weapon hummed and cycled up with power. Then, suddenly, his back arched, his arms splayed wide, and the gun fired off to the side: missing completely. Slowly, unsteadily, he turned around, his back smoking from the energy that had buffered him from behind.

"Burnsday." Princess raised one hand to his chest. "You're fired."

"Wh...!"

Princess' hand became a mini-maelstrom, and in a second, blasted clear through the mercenary. His eyes twitched, lost focus, and he fell, with a low groan. Floating warily to the blasted and charred ground, Princess winced and clutched her side. Bubbles hesitated only a split second, before floating over to her side to help hold her up. Supporting the other girl, Bubbles didn't really know what to say. Still, she tried.

"Thank you... Princess." Bubbles looked down at Princess' side. There was a lot of blood, but she looked like she'd live. About the same time, Bubbles heard muffled sobs, and saw a trail of tears running down Princess' cheeks.

"Does... are you hurt bad?" Bubbles pressed.

"Get away from me..." Princess said, weakly. "Everyone hates me. I'm a screw up... a failure... Downsizing... oh god!" She started to shake from the sobs. "Leave me alone... just leave me alone... I hate you... I hate everyone..."

"Princess..."

"Don't call me that!" Princess shook Bubbles off her, and stumbled back a few feet before catching herself. Bubbles made as if to help her again, but before she could, Princess took off. In seconds, she disappeared into the smoke and haze.

Bubbles never saw Princess Morebucks again.

'Encore'

June 18

Bubbles walked down the dark hall without fear or hesitation.

She had grown to fear things far worse than the dark.

And she had her Octi. With him in her arms, she was never alone, never afraid. All she needed was one thing, and she would be strong enough to bear any burden. Tugging a bit at her nightie, she shifted her grip on Octi, and stopped at the first of several faintly glowing tubes that ran up from the floor into the ceiling. Her hand passed gently over the cool metal at its base.

"Good night Boomer." She smiled, wistfully. "Sweet dreams."

(To be continued in 'Gauntlet: Redemption')

Whew! We're nearing the end, folks!
And yes, I know this was a dark, violent and depressing chapter... but look at the title for the next one, and look at the title for this one! Diaspora, then Redemption! I can tell you that it won't get any darker. Plus, from here on, the truth starts to be revealed (at last)!
As always, any CnC would be like unto a godsend.