Summary: Something dark and evil is twisting its way through Townsville. But if they don't defeat it, they will lose the thing they hold most dear. Who has caused this? Why is this happening? Will the day be saved?

The City of...! *cough* *cough* *cough*!

Ugh...ugh...I'm dory...ugh...I'm not very dwell...*cough* *cough*

Ah...you all dknow the drill...just show, *cough* *cough* yourselves adround...AAAaaaachoo!

The expanse of Townsville's city-line had never looked more tranquil. Pale blue, cloudless sky reflected off the monumental sky-scrapers glassy exteriors. All was quiet. There was no murmured chatter within the walls of the usually busy office buildings. There was hum of traffic in or out of the city; the few cars that were in the city sat stationary and unused. No one walked the streets, no people, or children, not even the little talking dog.

The only sound was the gentle Summer breeze flowing between the branches of trees, capturing the scent of their blossoms and leaves and spreading it through the streets. A few pieces of paper were lifted off the ground and strung along by the wind, making look as if the papers were dancing.

There were no monsters coming to destroy the City. In fact, the monsters had stopped coming all together two months previously. No one knew why but no-one had cared. They were just glad the attacks had stopped.

In Townsville's outskirts the quiet prevails. Pokey oaks kindergarten is empty. A note, hastily written in black marker pen on scrap paper is tacked onto the front door. It reads "Too ill. No class today. Try again tomorrow." On the window and in the classroom a thin layer of dust offers some insight in how long it has gone unused.

Out in the suburbs are vast mazes of small cul-de-sacs; rows and rows of houses, all clones of one another, line the desolate roads. In the eerie silence it is here that there is finally some sign of life. Inside all the houses are the sounds of weak coughing, of exhausted sneezes, of people being physically sick.

A little boy, covered in grime (which bares testament to his lack of general cleanliness,) and wearing dirty clothes with a harried facial expression, rides his beaten up bicycle through the classy neighbourhood. He stops outside of the Utonium Household; the home of the Powerpuff Girls.

Mitch rapped on the door desperately, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. Never had the small ten-year-old looked so distressed.

After repeated, impatient raps the door finally opened and a pre-pubescent Bubbles looked anxiously out. She was wearing a small mask over her mouth, like the ones the Mexicans had during the Bird Flu Epidemic.

"Mitch?" She exclaimed, her high-pitched voice muffled.

"Hiya Bubbles." His raspy voice carried undertones of worry. "Look my mom, my mom is really ill!"

"Well...everyone's parent is ill," answered Bubbles fighting the urge not to roll her eyes. Mitch's own were filling quickly with tears. "No, I mean," he paused, his voice catching in his throat, "I mean...she's really ill. She's not going to make it! Please, the Professor, he knows stuff...he must have a cure! By now he must!"

Bubbles shook her head and backed away, recognising after so many weeks of The Sickness when a person was becoming crazy with desperation. She didn't like having to fight people when they got like that. It wasn't their fault they felt so stressed, helpless and, above all else, frightened.

Mitch stepped forward, getting himself one step further to being in their home.

"The Professor hasn't been able to discover anything," Bubbled whimpered praying she would not cry, "because the Professor is ill as well! Really ill."

Mitch was silent for a moment, looking at the floor, before slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. Chocolate brown met azalea blue.

"Is he being sick?" Mitch asked, his voice low and disturbingly adult. The last time Bubbles had seen Mitch, they had all been in Pokey Oaks Middle School and Mitch had been competing with other dirty boys to see how far they could flick their own boogers. That seemed a lifetime away now.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice just a low and barely intelligible with the mask. "He started to be sick last night."

Mitch suddenly looked inconsolably sad. Bubbles was disturbed to see pity in his eyes also. Mitch felt sorry for her?

He laid his hand on her arm. "Then it's nearly the end."

She pulled back horrified and demanding to know what he meant.

With a sigh, Mitch explained, "in the trailer park...back home...the dogs all started getting ill just before we did. Then...then when they started being sick, after a few days, they would die. They died, Bubbles. We had to take our dogs all the way out into the dump and then," he paused and rubbed at his eyes, determined not to cry, "and we set fire to them. We couldn't even bury them. We didn't want to contaminate anyone or anything."

"But then, people started getting sick. After a few days, they weren't dead, and with your dad working on the sickness we thought we were ok. We thought maybe the dogs had something different, or a more vicious and deadly version of this...disease. But we were wrong." He looked at the brick wall to the side of Bubbles. "It just takes us bit longer to die. It starts with the coughing and sneezing, then the cramps and diarrhoea. The final part is them being sick. Then...then it's done. My mom is sick. She's being sick..."

Bubbles felt her knees go weak, as if they had turned to water and the world slanted. She fell to the floor, her legs in an ungraceful heap. The Professor was being sick, right now...

"First there was Marie," Mitch continued, ruthlessly shoving reality into her face. "Then there was Clancy, Marie's husband. It went across to the Stevens, to the Wakefields. Always the same, the women died first, then the men. It's spreading slowly...but it is spreading."

She looked up at him, her eyes dimmed and unfocused. "It's no longer in the Trailer park," Mitch explained. He motioned up and down the empty streets. "It's started happening to the people in the Suburbs. I'm sorry." He looked in the direction from which he came, his jaw set. Again, Bubbles was amazed by how much older he seemed, after just a few weeks of when she last saw him. "I need to go home, then," he muttered, more to himself than her. "If the Professor is sick as well...and there is no cure...I-I need to be with my mom."

Slowly, like an old man, he climbed onto his bike and rode away.

A/N- Just a quick note. I have decided to make the characters a little bit older. Even though the Powerpuff Girls were very mature for five-year olds, because of the nature of this story I decided to make them a bit older. I also thought it would be cool (I always was curious about 'Older' PPG's.)

Thank you for reading, please leave a comment and I sincerely hoped you enjoyed this chapter. :)