*My first Kick-Ass story! Based off of the movie. Please read and review, cause I'm not sure yet if this is even worth continuing. Let me know what you think.*

*Chapter One*

MINDY/HIT GIRL'S POV

I haven't opened this drawer in a very long time.

Its empty almost, save for a few loose bullets rolling loudly around the enclosed wood space. People almost never look in here- I barely do, as it is.

No one knows about what's underneath the drawer.

No one knows that if you put just enough pressure on the right side of the drawer's bottom, it gives in, and all of the bullets roll one way, while the the other side exposes a hollow compartment containing two items.

One is a balisong. There's only one left- one perfect, high quality, clean, precise balisong- the last thing my daddy ever gave me.

The second is a mask- its black, heavy duty, and never came off. I haven't worn it in almost a year.

This drawer contains the last remnants of a broken life that I can't get over the loss of. My life with Marcus is better…richer…easier….but that doesn't make me miss my daddy or our vigilantee-centered-father-daughter-project any less.

….I think I'm dead.

I think most of me died when my daddy did.

And the rest of me did when Frank D'Amico exploded mid air.

Dirty motherfucker.

It might surprise you that Frank fucking D'Amico's death saddened me, but I can't help it- when he exploded, so did my reason for living. I had satisfied everything my daddy ever wanted…now what?

Dave tries to make it better.

He lets me know what's going on with Chris D'Amico.

Apparently he doesn' t have a bodyguard anymore, but he is still completely friendless. Dave says I should feel sorry for his shitty, friendless existence, but its not like I'm doing much better.

Lets face it, my problems; worrying about Dave getting his ass kicked, trying to seem normal for Marcus, mourning my singular deceased superhero parental unit, trying to stay away from Katie fucking Deaxma's "sympathetic" embrace, attempting to forget how perfect the last 11 years of my life had been with my father…vs. Chris's problems; dealing with the loss of one more drug dealer in the world, not having a girlfriend, and not having a dick?

I have to say, I think I definitely got the shit end of the stick in this scenario.

I try to see Chris as a person, but all I end up finding is the hellish spawn of a bald-as-shit drug dealer who set my daddy on fire.

I really want to shoot him.

And maybe I would. But all of the guns were left in our safehouses, and I can't get to them anymore, and I can't help wishing I could break in- but I can't draw attention to myself. I can't do anything that might link me to Hit Girl, when I'm not her anymore. When I can't be her anymore. I feel like I can't do anything period.

I wish I was Hit Girl still, but my mask has stayed untouched for quite a while.

I thought a quieter life would be better, but it isn't….its boring, and Hit Girl is still inside somewhere, itching to get out…more like backflipping off the walls and machete-ing everything in sight.

I can't hold her back much longer.

Its time to call Dave.

Dave answered on the first ring.

"Hey, Mindy, what's up?"

He tries to sound normal, but I know he's shocked to hear from me. I don't talk to him at school much anymore, and I know he worries….it would seem sweet, if it wasn't so fucking annoying.

"I'm bored, Dave."

"Um, ok…wanna go to like…a movie or some-"

"No, I'm….BORED. Like with my life. Like I can't stop being Hit Girl, no matter how hard I try."

"Mindy, you know we can't-"

"Look, did you hear the news? There's so bad mother-effer dressed up like an orange version of Red fucking Mist….and he's dealing. And killing. You think its our old friend?"

"Its….I-I hope not."

Dave's stuttering makes me want to shoot myself in the face. He was fucking Kick Ass once, wasn't he? Grow some cajones, and figure out that "I" is only one syllable.

"Dave, I can' t keep pretending I'm normal. I'm not."

"Don't say that, Mindy. You have to try to be. For Marcus."

"Marcus just wants me to be happy," I argue.

"No," he retaliates. "Marcus wants you to be safe."

I stop.

I know he's right, but I don't want to listen to him. I can' t help but feel like I should keep living the way my daddy taught me too, no matter what the repercussions are.

"Dave….I'm gonna be Hit Girl again. She's all I know."

"Mindy!"

He sounds panicked now.

"Dave! Either get on the train, or get off the fucking tracks."

"I-I…."

There's that goddamn stutter again.

"You-you…." I mocked. "You need to make a choice. Call me tomorrow when you decide."

I hung up. I dug around in the back of my closet, and felt the familiar sturdy leather of my perfectly fitted Hit Girl pants and jacket…the heavy fire-blanket-cloth cape is underneath, and the purple wig still feels as silky as it used to. I shove my costume into the bottom of my backpack along with the black mask, and that perfect balisong. I guess I'll HAVE to break into one of the safehouses.

Tomorrow, after school, Hit Girl is coming back.

With Dave, or without him.

*What do you think? Should I continue? Review please!*