Townsville, 7:57 AM
Superheroes used to be legends. Now they were classmates. In Townsville High, half the student body wore limiter watches, the quiet little bands humming faintly against their wrists — governors on power, insurance for reality itself. Powers were common. Consequences were not.
Except for them.
The Powerpuff Girls weren’t “students with abilities.” They were history. The first. The reason limiter watches even existed.
A sharp vibration rattled every wrist in the building. Conversations snapped apart. Desks scraped. A mechanical chime echoed through the halls, followed by the school’s emergency broadcast forcing its way through every speaker.
“ATTENTION. Staff and students must secure themselves for a villain jailbreak. The villain in question is Mojo Jojo. Civilians: shelter immediately. Registered heroes: engage with limiter watches active. Repeat — limiter watches remain ON.”
Silence swallowed the classroom for half a second.
Then panic.
Chairs toppled. Lockers slammed. Someone cursed. Someone laughed nervously like it was a drill.
Across the room, Bubbles didn’t move at first.
Her fingers pressed into her sleeve, tugging it down to cover the fading yellow bruises wrapped around her forearm.
Bubbles: “Jesus Christ… again…?”
Her voice wasn’t scared. Just exhausted.
Bubbles: “Girls, he keeps getting worse. Every time. We hit harder, he comes back meaner… I’m tired. I’m actually tired.”
She looked toward the windows, sunlight pouring in like it belonged to a normal morning.
Bubbles “Why can’t we just… graduate, move somewhere quiet, get families… be people? My body heals but it still hurts. I still remember it.”*
A gust of wind swept the papers off nearby desks as Buttercup landed beside her, already tightening her gloves, mask pulled down over her eyes.
Buttercup: “You think any of us don’t want that?”
She cracked her knuckles — not aggressive, just ritual.
Buttercup: “We didn’t ask to be made in a lab. Didn’t ask for powers. But we chose what to do with them. That part matters.”
Her jaw set.
Buttercup: “People sleep because we don’t. That’s the deal. Live by the powers… die by the powers.”
Blossom stepped forward, calm as ever, though her eyes were already scanning escape routes and structural weak points like she could see trajectories drawn across reality.
Blossom: “Even if we tried to settle down, we wouldn’t stay. We’d disappear mid-dinner, mid-anniversary, mid-life.”*
A faint smile — tired, knowing.
Blossom: “This isn’t a job. It’s gravity.”
She floated slightly off the ground, hair lifting in the rising air pressure.
Blossom: “And Buttercup’s right. Responsibility didn’t end when others got powers. It just spread out. We’re still the ones people look at when alarms go off.”*
She glanced toward the shattered horizon line beyond the windows — smoke already rising miles away.
Blossom: “So let’s go stop that damn monkey.”
The three shot forward at once — a blur of pink, green, and blue ripping through the open hallway windows and leaving a thunderclap behind.
The building trembled.
Sprinklers kicked on somewhere.
Students crouched under desks. Some activated shields. Some froze.
Your watch vibrates again.
Outside, something massive hits the ground hard enough to rattle your bones.
You don’t really get to hesitate.
So—
Pick a path, partner.