Trick or Treat!
A/N Welcome to my first fanfic based on the film Kick-Ass. I do hope everyone likes it. BTW, if there are any Stephen King fans reading this, let me pose this challenge. Can any you spot the Stephen King references in this story, and can you identify which book it's from?
A/N2: Double kudos to anyone who can identify the comic strip where the names Hubert and Reba come from.
A/N3: Dave/Kick-Ass and Mindy/Hit-Girl are the creations and property of Mark Millar and John Romita Jr. Damon & Caitlin, as well as Hubert & Reba are the products of my own overwrought (and demented) imagination.
Well, awayyyy we go.
"Trick or treat!", cried the little girl in the purple costume. The elderly lady who had opened the door regarded her with distinct interest. She looked to be around eight years old and was wearing a dark purple bodysuit, with a matching purple cape. Around her waist was a purple tartan skirt, and a pink utility belt with "HG" on the buckle. She wore a purple mask and wig that effectively concealed her features. Purple gloves, that sported a pair of knuckle dusters completed the ensemble.
"Oh my! And who are you supposed to be dear?", she asked as she reached for her bowl of lollypops and miniature Hershey bars.
"Me? I'm Hit-Girl!", the small girl cried stated proudly, echoing a line first spoken twenty years earlier. "Don't you know who Hit-Girl is?"
"Well, I'm not quite sure, sweetie.", the old lady said pleasantly. "Is she one of those superheroes?"
"Sure is.", the girl said enthusiastically. "She was one of the first superheroes, you know."
"Oh yes. Well, you know there are so many of those superheroes now. It is rather hard to keep track of them. I don't seem to recall reading a lot about her in the newspaper or seeing her on the news."
"Oh, she doesn't really do a lot of press. She and Kick-Ass like to work more quietly."
"Kick-ASS?, you say?"
"Yup! Kick-Ass!", cried a new voice as a figure bounded up to the door. It was a small boy, about the same age as the girl. He was wearing a green bodysuit with yellow piping and a matching mask/hood. On his back, was a serious looking set of Escrima sticks scaled to his size. On his hands were a green pair of Kevlar-reinforced sap gloves. With his trick or treat bag, he looked the perfect picture of the crimefighter out to capture some decadent delights rather than dastardly drug dealers.
"Good heavens!", the elderly lady said with feigned shock. "Are YOU supposed to be this Kick-Behind person, dear?"
"Kick-Ass!", the boy said with good natured enthusiasm. "He was the FIRST superhero, ever!"
"Was not!", the girl said. "Hit-Girl was the first."
"Nuh-uh!", came the reply. "It was Kick-Ass. He wound up on YouTube and that's what started all the others."
"Hit-Girl and Big Daddy were operating before him! He just got the publicity first!"
"You always say that!"
"Can I presume that you two *know* each other?", the much-amused homeowner asked with a smile.
"Yeah. She's my sister.", said the green-clad boy rolling his eyes.
"He's my brother.", said the girl with a sarcastic sneer that everyone said she had inherited.
"Well, you two DO seem to have quite a difference of opinion about all this. Do this Kick-Fanny and Slap-Girl work together somehow?"
"Oh yeah!", the two children answered in near-unison, indicating how well they thought alike, despite their apparent sibling rivalry.
"They work together ALL the time…"
"The criminals in the city are scared shitl…I mean, really, really scared of them"
"Last month they blew up a white slavery kidnapping ring"!, said the girl proudly as her brother tried to recover from his lapse into profanity.
"Blew it up, you say?"
"Yuh-huh! They freed all the girls who'd been kidnapped and then totally blew up the kidnappers hide-out, along with any kidnapper who didn't give it up and go to jail peacefully."
"Good heavens! I think I *did* read about that in the papers. It was quite the story."
"Totally!", said the boy. "And just earlier this week, they took out a huge dope ring!"
"They did?"
"With extreme prejudice…At least that's what the Post, said."
"I'm afraid the Times is the only one of the city papers I read. I so enjoy the crossword puzzle.", said the lady with a smile as she was deeply enjoying the conversation with the two masked children.
"Too bad! The Times doesn't show all the cool pictures of the punks being loaded into the police wagons –or the ambulances- afterwards. They did do an interview with our Grandpa Marcus though.", the girl stated.
"Your grandfather got interviewed?"
"Yeah, totally!", exclaimed the boy with pride. "He's the Deputy Chief of the New York Police Department."
"I think I've seen him interviewed, at that. I must say, you don't quite look like him."
"Oh, yeah. Well, he's our mom's adopted dad. He's totally cool though. He has a siren in his car and all types of book on the history of the police department.", explained the girl.
"I see.", said the lady with a smile. "I must say, that you two have given me quite the education. I will definitely be watching the news for more on these two. In the meantime, I think that a pair of very brave looking little crimefighters like yourselves could use some energy.", she chuckled as she dropped some lollypops, miniature M&M bags and small Hershey bars into each of the bags. "You two have fun tonight and be careful crossing the street and such."
"We will. Thank you!"
"Thanks!"
"Goodnight, dears.", she said closing the door. She smiled as she watched the two retreat down the cobblestone walkway to the sidewalk and continue along the sidewalk that was now choked with fallen leaves. She became aware of the presence of her husband behind her.
"Who was that you were talking to so long, Reba?", he said looking out the window.
"Oh, another pair of superheroes."
"Again? They're the fifteenth set in the last two hours."
"I know, Hubert! But they were so cute."
"Which ones were these two"
"Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl. And, I must say, their costumes had to be the best of any I've seen tonight. I swear, the girl even had holes in her top like they were bullets that had been stopped by one of those bulletproof vests."
"Really? That IS a nice touch.", he looked out the window again at the retreating forms. "That Kick-Ass looks like a walking green condom."
"I know. I didn't have the heart to tell him though. Of course, you remember when Kick-Ass first appeared on YouTube? Back when he was more into publicity? He DOES look like a walking green condom."
"That he does. But, if half of those news reports are even marginally true, he and that Hit-Girl person have done more to reduce crime in the city than anything Giuliani or any police chief in about the last hundred years has done.", Hubert looked at Reba and arched his very bushy white eyebrows. "Speaking of condoms and drug dealers, guess what drug I just took?"
"Those little blue ones?", Reba purred?
"Hell, yeah! We've got a good hour until the grandkids arrive! You get the oils. I'll put on the Rolling Stones CD!", Hubert proclaimed as he beat his white-haired, but still quite fit chest as the sounds of Mick Jagger filled the house.
Down the street, Hubert and Reba's most recent candy recipients turned to each other and grimaced.
"Oh hell!", proclaimed the girl. "Do you hear that Damon? The Stones! You know what that means?"
"Yeah Caitlin, I know. I was with you back in July. Remember?"
"Remember? You dumbass, I'm trying to forget it!".
Damon and Caitlin thought back to the three and a half months earlier. They had been taking advantage of a moonless night to test out there stealth skills, as well as some night vision goggles, through the streets and ravines that marked their peaceful suburban neighbourhood. They had been creeping along the treeline that bordered Hubert and Reba's yard when they heard the unmistakable sound of the Rolling Stones being played. Creeping closer to the yard, they had scanned with their nightvision goggles until they beheld a sight that each was sure had scarred their eight-year old minds. It took all of the considerable self-discipline their training had instilled to prevent them screaming.
Instead, they sprinted back to their own house to find their parents in the kitchen with their usual cocktail fixings of Motrin, icepacks and protein shakes. Upon learning what their stealth skills practice had yielded, their parents had been sympathetic…to a point. Damon couldn't understand why they weren't trying to hold down dinner like he was. Caitlin was certain her mother was trying to contain a grin. Needless to say, Damon and Caitlin didn't go near Hubert and Reba's home any longer unless it was to the front door and there was no musical warning to back off.
The twin siblings shook their heads as if to shake out the visual memory.
"How much do you think we have, so far?", asked Caitlin as she looked into her bag with the flashlight that had been hooked to her utility belt. She would have preferred to use her night vision goggles, but her father prevailed upon her that might look strange to anyone who may spot them. (And, he reminded her, the family secret had to be maintained. She really HATED that. It's what kept her and her brother from winning every trophy and medal their peewee martial arts league had. They usually had to settle for second or third place, while allowing the occasional first place to slip through.) She did appreciate the fact it was a heavy-lead, police flashlight. If any pervert, pedophile or simple candy thief tried screwing with her or her brother…Well, it was appropriate that it was a flashlight, since it would be inserted where the sun definitely did NOT shine. (It was a trick and phrase that her mom had taught her and Damon when they were both five. Their dad had grimaced at watching what they did to the demonstration mannequin they had.)
"We've got a pretty good haul, so far.", Damon said after looking in both his bag and his younger (by seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds) sister's..
"Want to call it a night and head home?"
"Whazzat? Head home when there's still candy to be tracked down? Go home and just give up?"
"I know. What was I thinking?", deadpanned Caitlin. "So, where do we go?"
"We've covered most of Brock Street. How about we cut across the park by Taggert Stream and hit the houses on Jointner Avenue?"
"That sounds good. We got a good haul there last year."
"We would have done better if those people had understood my costume."
"What the hell was there to understand? You were friggin' Spider-Man."
"Dammit, do I have to explain it again? I was *Tobey Maguire*'s Spider-Man, not that Andrew Garfield pretender."
"Shit, I'm pretty damn sure that most of the people there did not CARE! They're probably philistines who think Michael Keaton was a good Batman!"
"You see? It's my duty to enlighten the uninformed!"
"Damon, stupidity is like mud! You try and work with it, you get some on you."
"I couldn't help it! Some of them thought Emma Stone as Gwen Stacy was better than Kirsten Dunst as MJ Watson!"
"You see? These people are beyond our help! They're beyond the help of anyone who's not equipped to re-animate dead brain tissue! You wasted precious candy gathering time by trying to re-hash the Maguire/Garfield debate. For Christ's sake you were like Linus going around door-to-door trying to get people to listen to his diatribe about the Great Pumpkin!"
Damon stopped his rant at the mention of the Great Pumpkin. He snickered at his sister. "I got a rock!", he quoted.
Caitlin's aggravated features softened at the quote from a favourite Halloween special. She cleared her throat and tried her own quote from another seasonal favourite. "Ach, boy, ye've got the *Shinning*!", she cried in a fake Scots accent.
"Don't you mean the *Shining*?", Damon laughed picking up the quote immediately.
"Shhh! Do you want to get sued?", Caitlin giggled.
"No beer and no TV make Homer go something, something", Damon laughed.
"Go crazy?", Caitlin asked after dropping her naturally light voice into a Marge Simpson tone.
"Don't mind if I …", they both chorused, or they started to when something interrupted their happy moment.
"Give it up, shitheads!", they heard a rough voice coming from the park.
"Help!", came an answering cry. From the sound of it, whoever it was, was coming in their direction.
"How many?", Damon asked as he looked in that direction.
"Can't tell yet. Wait…Looks like two being chased and about five doing the chasing.", Caitlin said with a sigh.
"Five of them. Two of us."
"Looks like it"
"Doesn't seem fair"
"It's *NOT fair"
"So what do we do?"
"Can't do a damn thing. If we wait for them to get a few more people to make it more even, we won't have time left to hit any more doors.", Caitlin sighed as she put their loot bags aside, until they had taken care of the current problem.
"Yeah, you're right. Maybe we should only use our left hands though? You know, just to make it more challenging."
"Screw that! These shitheads are trying to start trouble on Halloween night in *our* neighbourhood! I'm not going to delay ringing more doorbells just to give these braindead cretins a more sporting chance. Now, nut-up or shut-up!", Caitlin growled as she quoted another favourite film. (One their parents had dimly hoped the twins hadn't been able to snatch from the higher shelf on the DVD rack, but to no avail).
"Ok…But I get to do the talking"
"Fine", Caitlin sighed as they realized the game was now on.
A pair of terrified kids, a boy and a girl who looked around 11 dashed past them. Damon dimly recognized them from their school. It was one of those sickly sweet grade school couples who'd been "dating" since Grade 1. He'd wanted to puke whenever he saw them making cutesy faces at each other in the schoolyard. Of course 11 was the age, their mother had been when she met their father, but they had hardly been a schoolyard couple due to the almost six year age difference between them. Damon cleared the thoughts from his head and prepared himself for what was to come. He saw that Caitlin was stretching out her arms and limbering up her neck with an exaggerated twist they'd seen their mother do as a warm-up hundreds of times since they began their own training just before they turned three.
Five older boys –they all looked to be about thirteen- came upon them. Either they had all dressed up as the same character from Grease, or they simply had NO sense of modern style. They each were wearing a fake leather jacket and had their hair done up in a duck-tale style in Brylcream. He caught Caitlin's look of disgust. Guys like these deserved an ass-kicking on the general principal of their sheer lack of style.
"Good evening…gentlemen.", he intoned in a staccato tone. He was told his late grandfather and namesake had used that upon meeting his father. He felt he should uphold a family tradition. "A fine night…for wholesome…activities. However, we sense that you are…not…with the…program on the wholesome…part. I suggest…you pack it up…and go home."
"Who the hell are you? Green Condom Guy?"
"No..actually…". Shit thought, Damian. Does this guy NEVER go online and check out the numerous sites devoted to superheroes who acted as self-appointed protectors in the major cities. "I am…actually…"
"And what are you and the purple popsicle there gonna do if we don't", sneered the biggest of the gang. He looked like he was the dumbest…although judging from what they'd seen so far, it wasn't exactly a big stretch.
That was the sort of line Caitlin Lizewski absolutely lived for.
"Then, we kick your ass!.", she growled in the tone her mother had taught her. She moved her head from one thug to another. "Eeny, meeny, miney, MOE!", she exclaimed as she spun around in a perfect spinning back-kick. The heel of her Kevlar-lined boot caught the first thug directly on his nose. It gave with a painful sounding crack. Blood spurted out as he screamed and dropped to the ground. Caitlin spun again, and drove a knife-ridge hand into his windpipe. Gagging, the thug collapsed on the grass, trying to breathe.
Damon grabbed a stick from his back and struck at the ringleader's knee. A solid connection and the ducktailed idiot went down on it, screaming. Damon walked up to him, drew back his fist and drove a solid punch, backed up by his weighted sap gloves into the guy's face. He spun his head around 90 degrees, a tooth went flying and the guy went down.
Caitlin leapt at the biggest guy. With blinding speed, her steeltoed boot drove into his groin. The bully screamed ("like a little pansy-ass girl", her mom was fond of describing such events). He doubled over and left his head wide open. A pair of shots with her knuckle-duster dressed gloves opened up both his lips and soon he was spitting out blood and a tooth. She executed a front thrust kick into his solar plexus and he collapsed like a ton of bricks, trying to catch his breath.
The fourth guy was stunned at how a pair of small kids had so swiftly and savagely trimmed the odds down. His own father had told him about once encountering the real Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl about eighteen years prior. They had left him –after making the duel mistake of mugging an old lady and then trying to fight the costumed duo- with a need for dentures, a limp and a distinctive dent in his skull. This was like a nightmare story come true. He was standing there, wetting his pants when Damon struck. He clapped both his hands over each of the hoodlums ears. As he went to his knees, screaming Damon brought a stick down on the pressure point atop the shoulder. The thug, fell and thus completed his own family tradition.
The fifth bully had a knife…but was simply too shocked and scared to use it. He stood still, trembling. It was really simply for Caitlin to execute a savage side-kick as his knee joint, while Damon did the same at his opposite rib cage. A pair of dull snaps followed by screams of pain and the last hoodlum fell with a cry of agony.
Caitlin looked around and saw that the lovebirds had made good their escape. "You're welcome…you douchebags!", she grumbled. She was interrupted by the blasting tones of the Joan Jett song "Bad Reputation". She smiled as she knew just who was assigned that ringtone. She reached to the back of her utility belt and grabbed her cellphone.
"Hi, Mommy!"
"Hello sweetie.", Mindy Lizewski greeted her daughter. Next to her, her husband Dave watched their children from behind a large oak tree. He smiled at the abilities of the kids. It was amazing, he thought, how much Damon sounded like his namesake. He really wished his late father-in-law had lived to see the end of the D'Amico empire (Although the D'Amico's weren't totally done, as Chris D'Amico had reinvented himself as a supervillain and had plagued them on and off since well before Dave even dreamed of Mindy could ever be anything more than his partner and best friend…When Chris wasn't being sent to Bellevue's psychiatric ward, that is.) as well as meet his grandchildren. He would have loved Damon's perfect intonation of the Adam West vernacular. And Caitlin…Well, if he hadn't known better, he would have said that Mindy had a near exact clone in both skills and in sheer brassy attitude. He smiled at his wife.
"Tell them I think they were amazing."
"Ok, love….Caitlin, your dad says you two were amazing. Tell your brother, that please."
"Sure", Mindy heard her daughter say with the raw enthusiasm that marked crimefighters who still hadn't seen the tragedies or knew the dangers of the job. She knew their children would do well once they were allowed to actually go out on the streets. Tonight, the kids had just begged to wear versions of their parents' costumes. As about a third of the kids here on Long Island dressed up as Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl every year, she and Dave saw no risk to their secret identities. She thought with relief that they had about four or five more years until she and Dave introduced them to the real world of crimefighting. She idly wondered what would happen when they were shown the jetpack that was kept locked away safely at Dave's fathers' house in Queens.
She shifted her weight and suppressed a groan. A few days before, she and Dave had taken down a major drug ring. It had been a tough, brutal, bloody night. Her entire torso was a bruise. Dave had even told her that when they had showered together after getting home, reassuring Dave's dad (the only babysitter they used when they went on big jobs since he and Marcus were the only other people outside their own little family that knew of their secret lives) they were fine and sent him home, followed by looking in on their kids.
Dave stood up from where he was crouching with a moan of his own. He still didn't feel pain as much, so he would always go in first to draw off the attack. With his now Kevlar lined suit and pain tolerance, he was quite adept and allowed her to go to work –and the passage of time had not dulled Mindy's abilities in the slightest.. Then, he would join in and demonstrate just how good he'd become after spending twenty some years training daily with the former Mindy Macready, in addition to pumping some serious iron. He now looked and performed like the hero he'd always sought to be.
Right now though, they were both exhausted and sore. Over three weeks had mostly been devoted to tracking the now defunct drug ring back to its source. It was most fortunate they each worked from home and set their own schedules. Dave was a renowned comic book artist and writer (as Mindy could attest when they were mobbed at their annual trip to . Mindy operated her own home security company and bodyguard service. Some large bouncer types laughed at the idea of her as a bodyguard…They only did that once, and only after they regained consciousness.
They were so run down, it was mutually decided that Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl would take several nights off to recover. That night had simply been spent keeping an eye on their kids while they were trick or treating.
"Are you two coming home now?", Mindy asked
"We're going to try the houses on Jointer Avenue first."
"I see. How long will you be?"
"An hour, or so."
"Alright. Your dad and I are going home now. Don't stay out too long, both your grandpas are coming over and are bringing some Chinese food."
"Ok, mom. We'll be home in time"
"Alright sweetie. And Caitlin…."
"Yeah?"
"I am SO impressed with you", Mindy gushed.
"Thanks, mom". Caitlin beamed as she ended the call.
"So, we have an hour?", Dave asked as he strolled over.
"At least, I should think."
"Want to put it to good use?
"Oh? Such as?"
"A thorough examination of how well our bruises have healed, mayhaps?
"I like the sound of that."
"I thought you would, my love"
The two of them walked stiffly, back through the park to their home hoping to get back and spend time alone before the next generation of crimefighters came home.
[b]Well, I hope everyone liked it. Feedback is greatly appreciated in the form of reviews. I do have other [i]Kick-Ass[/i] fics in mind. Happy Halloween, everyone![/b]