Past Wants, Future Needs

Chapter 1

The Professor's Death

Buttercup POV

It's been about 14 years since I've been back to Townsville. I moved to Cityville the summer I turned 18, and I got tired of "saving the day" all the time. I mean, my sister still play superheroes, but not me. I fight crime my way; if you hurt someone in my neighborhood, then I do what I can to keep them safe. By day, I'm a bartender at a place called Bourbon & Branch. It's a dive bar for bikers and most of the lowlifes in Cityville. As I was wiping off a table and collecting mugs to take back behind the bar, I would feel someone bump into me. My mouth was about to fire off a smartass remark because I thought it was a patron trying to get fresh with me.

But as I turned around, I gave a soft smile, as it was my sister Bubbles. She was dressed like she belonged there, in a dark blue halter top with dirty, ripped jeans. Her hair, however, is no longer in her pigtails; it was straightened and in a messy bun. She would hug me tightly, then whisper in my ear that we needed to talk. I nod and point to a table in the back as I tell her I need to take the stuff in my hands up to the bar. She nods and heads towards the table, which I pointed at, and plops down in the booth. I bring the mugs towards the counter, empty them into buckets, and put them in the bus containers. I asked my manager, Anton, if he could cover for me real quick, as I needed a break.

He would nod, and I would take off towards the table. I would grab myself a beer and hand him the money for it. As I walked over towards Bubbles, I sat down across from my sister and took a sip of my beer. I then say to her in a calm tone,

"So, Bubbs, what has brought you here? Also, where is Ms. Bossy boots? I thought she was coming with you to visit."

Bubbles would give me a soft smile and then say, One of our waitresses brought her a coke. As she took a sip and swallowed, Bubbles would look up and say something in a shaky tone, trying to sound like she was fine.

"Uhh... Blossom couldn't come because she had to... Stay behind and make arrangements. Buttercup, The professor is dead... He went peacefully at Pokey Folks. We tried to call you, but I guess you were working. But the funeral is tomorrow, if you can get off for it. It will be at Townsville Cemetery, and he will be buried by his parents. We would like for you to be there, please, but if you can't, Blossom and I will understand."

The Professor...Dead...God...

My brain couldn't wrap around the fact that he was gone. I just talked to him a few days ago, and he told me he was fine. I would down my beer and then pull out a cigarette and light it. As I took a drag, I did ask her what he died from. To which she sniffled a bit and said, Cancer. Apparently the Chemical X he was working with was radioactive. The explosion that created us is what started the radiation poisoning. But it did start showing side effects until we went our separate ways after high school. Blossom graduated college early, to which I rolled my eyes because, of course, little Miss Smarty Pants would graduate early. She came back to Townsville and became a lawyer, but once she got wind of the professor's health,

She moved him out of the house and into Pokey Folks so he could get around the house better. Boomer and she would go visit him and cook him dinner, along with other tasks he couldn't do. I would nod as she explained everything; it was like my brain was on repeat of Bubbles saying the professor was dead.

As Bubbles finishes telling me everything leading up to his death, I hug her tight and tell her I'll be there. To which she would smile a sad smile and head towards the door and leave. I would head back up to the bar, bringing my bottle with me, and get back behind the counter. Anton could tell I wasn't myself and tried to ask me what was wrong. But I brushed him off by telling him I'd tell him later, to which he nodded as he knew not to push me. As it got close, Anton would ask once again what had happened. I would explain the situation, and he would tell me I could have the rest of the week off. I would thank him, finish up my work, and begin to head home.

As I walked the 5 blocks to my apartment, I would light up a cigarette and smoke it on my way home. Once I unlocked the door, I placed my purse on the couch and headed for my fridge. I pull out some chocolate ice cream and a spoon from the drawer. My apartment isn't anything to brag about; it's a one-bedroom and bathroom with forest green paint throughout the house. As I plopped down on the couch, I wouldn't turn on the TV.

I would just open the container and start eating the frozen comfort food, and as I took the first spoonful, a few tears would escape and run down my cheeks. My vision would get blurry as I set down the container and let my sadness fill my body. As sob after sob would come from my throat, I would hug my knees to my chest and just let my hands run along my arms.

Man, I wish someone could hold me."

I thought to myself, I know that when I was little, Professor Utonium used to hug me close and tell me that everything was ok. He was my biggest cheerleader when I wanted to move and become a bartender. He helped me through mixology training and bartending school; he always told me that as long as I was happy with my life, no one could judge me. I mean, Blossom judged me for it, but again, I'm happy with my profession. But as the sobs would subside, I would get up, head to the bathroom, and wipe my face.

As makeup would start to run off my face, I would look at myself in the mirror. I looked like I had warmed over death; I had a dark circle minus my black eye liner. My now-long black hair looked messy and greasy, as did my black tank top and green skirt. If I reeked of beer and had food pieces covered in it, I would start undressing and hope into the shower to wash off the work day and my emotions.

I dried off and got dressed in my pajamas, which were an oversized green men's t-shirt and black short shorts. I would go put up the ice cream and wash this morning's dishes before dragging myself back to my room. As soon as I turned on my small lamp in my room, my black cat, Belladonna, would hop up on my bed from sleeping on the floor. She would meow and purr because I was home, then hop down and go eat her dry food. As I climbed into bed, I would lay there and turn on the TV in my room as background noise. I turned off my lamp, at which point Bella hopped on my bed and lay next to me. I give her soft pets and chin scratches before I roll over and get ready for bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I had a dream about something I hadn't thought about since I was 9 years old.

I didn't know how to explain it other than with one word.


(A/N): Hoi there, I know I've been MIA, but I'm trying to fight writers block... So I thought this little exercise would help... I will be heading back to work on my other stories, but from time to time I will be updating this book. But may this book be ever in your favor, and I hope you enjoy it.

Word count: 1477