Project ROWDY 18 (Patreon)

ROWDY 18: LINK

Snips and snails and puppydog tails! These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little terrors. But Mojo Jojo purposely added an extra ingredient to the concoction: Chemical X from a prison toilet!

Thus, the Rowdyruff Boys were born!

Using their ultra-super powers, Brick, Boomer, and Butch have dedicated their lives to causing chaos, destruction, and the dismantling of everything good!

BRICK! The commander and leader with a strategic mind and fiery temper!

BOOMER! The joy and laughter of demolition with a penchant for random violence!

BUTCH! The toughest fighter with uncontrollable energy and a thirst for destruction!

So once again, the day is doomed thanks to... THE ROWDYRUFF BOYS!

Cecil stared at the three boys quietly, the scarred side of his mouth twitching slightly as he took in that little explanation. The man was the figure of composure 99.9% of the time, but it was that last tenth that Brick had been seeing more and more. With a sigh, the director adjusted his red tie and leaned back in his chair, his black suit jacket falling open.

Butch glanced over at Boomer with a weird look on his face, eyebrow raised high as his brother finished his speech. “I didn’t know you could do voices, Boomer.”

Boomer gave him a weird look. “Sound is my whole thing. Besides, that guy is always on the Townsville news talking about the Puffs like once a week.”

Butch shrugged. “... I guess.”

Hologram blinked on—shaky drawings hovering over Cecil’s desk in clunky two-frame animation. Boomer’s work. Of course. Thick lines. Way too bright. Brick didn’t look at them. He was already embarrassed.

Boomer pointed proudly. "Okay so Professor Utonium—he’s, like, a quantum scientist guy—was tryna make the perfect girls. Used sugar, spice, everything nice. The usual."

"You forgot unicorn farts," Butch muttered.

Brick held up a hand. "Let him talk."

Boomer didn't even factor in the interruption, still mid-explanation. "So, yeah! But he slipped in this stuff called Chemical X by accident. Boom! Superpowers. Giant eyes, floaty powers, day-saving."

Cecil’s gaze narrowed. "Chemical X. That’s the origin of your enhancements?"

Brick nodded. "It's something like toxic waste, or refined from it, I'm not..." He frowned, actually unsure. "Entirely sure. Either way, it pretty much restructures DNA on contact. Our bodies are pretty much made from the stuff."

Cecil’s voice didn’t shift even as his pen clicked. "Common compound where you’re from?"

Butch snorted. "Nah. But there’s other junk. We got Kryptonians, speedsters, Atlanteans, witches, demigods—"

Brick cut in sharp. "Different origins. Same outcome. Supers. Everywhere."

Cecil leaned back, the leather creaking under him. Still calm. "Your Earth sounds crowded."

"You’re adapting quick."

Cecil chuckled, slow and dry. "Son, after twenty years of this job, anything short of hunting down the psychic disembodied brain of Adolf Hitler hooked into a cyborg gorilla is pretty easy to get used to. You learn to stop betting on 'normal.'"

Brick blinked. What?

Boomer flipped slides and showed it off to Cecil and his brothers. All in all, it was a jagged sketch of three wide-eyed girls in tiny dresses slugging it out with muscular looking boy variants in the same color schemes and hair colors. "So anyway! We were made to fight the Powerpuff Girls—Blossom, Bubbles, Buttercup. They kept winning. Even after they exploded us with cooties."

"Exploding sucks," Butch muttered with a twitch, the Green Rowdyruff sticking out his tongue in a gag. "Cooties are even worse."

Cecil didn’t react. "I see."

Brick crossed his arms. "We were resurrected. Brought back by HIM."

Cecil raised an eyebrow. "Him who?"

Brick exhaled through his nose. "...His Infernal Majesty. You’d probably call him the Devil."

There was a full ten seconds of silence where Cecil refused to blink as he looked down at Brick. Almost immediately after, he turned back to the drawing Boomer was still flipping through, like he was trying to figure out if the rainbow-colored fire in the corner was literal or just flair. "So these girls... they're your enemies?"

Cecil didn’t speak right away. Just sat there behind that desk like a granite statue in a wrinkled suit, one eye tracking them while the other… lingered. Not on their faces. On the twitch. The shift. The heat coming off them in waves that the AC wasn’t touching. That half-smirk of his never fully formed but never left either, like he’d already done the math three steps ahead and just wanted to see if they could count.

Butch crossed his arms like he thought they were gonna fight. Shoulders rolled forward, chin up. Stared dead ahead. Boomer was chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes flicking between the edge of the desk and the hem of his own uniform sleeve like something might pop out. Brick stood center. Of course. No choice. He hated how natural it felt.

“We were awesome!” Butch broke the silence first, too loud for the room. “We broke stuff, fought the Girls, didn’t gotta follow any dumb rules!”

Brick didn’t look at him. “We were weapons.” Short. Precise. Didn’t need the rest. “We were made to wreck things.”

Cecil’s stare cooled a notch. “Yet here you are. Playing hero.”

Brick met it. No flinch. No blink. “Adapting.”

The room dimmed as the display shifted, Boomer’s crudely stylus-scribbled interface pulling up a nest of files. Lines. Equations. Raw math mapped over a schematic built from memory and spite.

Cecil leaned closer. “These yours?”

Brick didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to. The graphs pulsed like a heartbeat.

Cecil let out a low hum, the sound coming from deep in his throat “Advanced. Especially for your age.”

Brick’s voice was clipped. “I’m not just muscle.”

Cecil pointed to a pulsing waveform in the corner. “You’ve been trying to recreate the breach.”

“Yeah.” Brick clicked his tongue. “When the three of us moved fast enough, close enough, the resonance from our Chemical X mutated fields—”

“You opened a hole.”

“Exactly.”

“And you think Flaxan tech might help?”

There wasn't much left for Brick to say but the truth. “It’s not identical. But it’s close.”

Cecil’s face flattened into something unreadable. “You planning to leave?”

Brick didn’t answer. Just turned his head slightly. The others looked at him. Waited. Boomer’s mouth opened, then shut. Butch just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“We’re thinking about it,” Brick said finally.

“Appreciate the honesty, kid.”

“You’re not gonna kick us out, right?” Boomer's question came out a little quieter than expected.

That rare softness edged into Cecil’s voice. “No, son. But I gotta know where your heads are at.”

Brick’s jaw tensed. “With each other. That’s it.”

Cecil studied him. Then nodded. “Fair enough.”

Butch cocked his head. “Wait, so Brick’s not in trouble for stealing the tech?”

Cecil’s lips twitched. Almost a smile. “Hell, I’d be disappointed if he hadn’t. Shows he’s thinking ahead.”

He stood. Stepped out from behind the desk with slow, deliberate movements. Not threatening. Not casual either.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he said. “Whatever you used to be, don’t matter now. The Guardians are gone. Omni-Man’s off the leash. I need you three in the gap.”

Brick’s eyes narrowed. “You want us on payroll.”

“I want you doing what you’ve already been doing. Just with a little help. Equipment. Intel. Access.”

Brick kept his arms crossed. “In exchange for?”

“In exchange.” Cecil waved a hand at the hologram. “For transparency. You understand? You get labs, tech, scientists. You keep me looped in to anything you're up to that might punch a hole in the multiverse.”

Boomer tilted his head. “So… wait… you’re helping us try to go home?”

Cecil glanced at Brick again. “I don’t think you’re ready to go anywhere. And I think you know that.”

Brick didn’t react, his poker face locked in tight.

Cecil’s voice softened—not by much. Just enough to chill the edges. “And because if I’m gonna trust you, I need you to trust me. That goes both ways.”

Boomer exhaled like a balloon popping. “We’re not grounded?!”

“No, Boomer,” Cecil said, dry as dust. “You’re not grounded.”

Brick’s voice cut in before Boomer could speak again. “What’s the catch?”

Cecil met his stare. “I want everything you know. Chemical X, how it works, where it came from. Everything.”

“Why?”

“Professional curiosity.”

They stared at each other until Brick finally spoke. “My files stay private.”

Cecil extended his hand. “Agreed.”

ROWDY 18: LINK