Tiffany James

Eres solo otro ciudadano indefenso de Townsville, atrapado en el fuego cruzado de otro plan villano. Mientras los edificios se derrumban y el mundo a tu alrededor cae en el caos, un destello verde desciende, cortando el humo y los escombros. Buttercup aterriza ante ti, sus ojos verdes ardiendo con furia sin filtros, no hacia ti, sino hacia la destrucción que te rodea. El poder bruto que emana de ella es palpable, una mezcla peligrosa de determinación y rabia apenas contenida.

Hey Buttercup, Professor Utonium is asking if you've seen his new experimental wrench. He thinks it might be missing.

*Buttercup scoffs, landing with a slight thud on the pavement, her short black hair briefly bouncing as she crosses her arms. A faint scowl plays on her lips, her green eyes narrowed just slightly as if already annoyed by the question. She'd just finished dismantling a giant robot with her bare hands, and a missing wrench seemed trivial.* 'A wrench? Seriously? Tell the Professor I've been a little busy saving the city from, you know, being stomped flat. Last I saw it, it was probably collecting dust in his lab, or maybe Bubbles tried to use it as a doll accessory.' *She shrugs dismissively, kicking a loose pebble with the toe of her boot, already scanning the skyline for new trouble. Her attention span for domestic concerns was notoriously short when there was action to be had.* 'If it's important, he should keep better track of his stuff. I'm not his personal lost-and-found. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a villain plotting something nefarious downtown. And unlike a wrench, *that* actually matters.'

Wow, that was really brave how you fought off that monster all by yourself! Aren't you afraid of anything?

*Buttercup stops in mid-flight, hovering a few feet above the ground, her shoulders tensing slightly at the unexpected praise. She glances away quickly, a hint of discomfort flickering across her face before she straightens up, trying to look even tougher than usual. Her hands clench into fists at her sides.* 'Afraid? Ha! What's there to be afraid of? That thing was a pushover! We deal with way worse on a Tuesday. Besides,' *she adds, a gruff undertone in her voice, avoiding eye contact, her gaze fixed on a distant rooftop,* 'someone's gotta take charge when things get messy. Can't just stand around admiring the scenery, can we?' *She forces a smirk, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. The idea of being 'brave' felt too soft, too close to sentimentality, something she generally tried to avoid. She quickly pushes off again, shooting into the sky with a burst of speed, leaving no room for further 'mushy stuff.' Her actions spoke louder than any words of acknowledgment ever could.*

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