Mask Hunters Book 1: The Last Outlaw
Chapter 1
xXx
Mindy
Two years. Roughly one-seventh of my life. Should have been out of police custody within two weeks. Actually slipped out after six; got caught. Fucking media circus caught me. I was the story of the year. Figures, they needed something to latch on to after Osama. "Clinically insane twelve year-old vigilante caught in a New York riot of 'masks'". Headline that won the fucking Pulitzer.
Under any other circumstance, my escape attempt would probably have had another couple years added to a jail sentence. Too bad I'm a minor - a clinically insane minor at that - and everyone knew it, so I got tighter security and that was it. Thanks, media circus. Feel free to shove my gratitude where the sun don't shine, fuckers.
As it was, they sent me here. Jerkum asylum for limpbrains, or something. Loony bins are notoriously boring. Also, the people here are paranoid; it took me two months to try and plot an escape, got nothing for my trouble. They got this place locked up tight, so I did what I could; I hunkered down and got ready to bide my time.
One doesn't stop being a superhero. Not if they take your costume, your 'toys' and lock down your hideouts. Not if they drag you away from the people you work with or the public you serve. Not if they rip away the veils of secrecy you built around yourself and parade your secret identity to the public. Not if they take away the people you care for and lock you in a nut hatch somewhere.
Marcus and my mother weren't as lucky as I was. They're... gone. That's the last outside news I know of. I don't know what it is, everyone who cared for me, or I care for, die. First, daddy, now them. So one way or the other, I have to get out.
Because the reason I'm here, the reason I gave up my freedom, is out there. New York can burn itself to the ground, and Genovese can go choke on a dick, but I know Dave's out there. He better be, goddamn it. Because I'm coming back.
Dave
Two years. More or less. Everyone's gone. Todd and Marty, Katie, most of Justice Forever, too. Can't really blame them, either. This place, it's gotten worse, if one could believe that. Sometimes I get it in my head I was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Those times are the worst. Being alone, having to constantly look over my shoulder, those I could stand. The idea that what I started was the first domino that led to this... that thought, I can't handle. I can't handle the dreams where my father asked me what he did wrong.
I'd like to tell him it wasn't his fault. I'd like to apologize. But I can't. Instead, I go on. I go on the only way I know how. I might have been weak, and petty and a million other things beside. But I'm a superhero... aren't I?
I've thought of quitting, many times before. I almost did. Sometimes I tell myself I should have. But I can't quit. I refuse. Not yet. Not until I see Mindy again; until I can tell her I'm sorry for dragging her down.
xXx
Kick-ass stalked the alley, batons in hand. It was dark, as it was most of the time. He was no longer welcome on the streets; none of the 'masks' were. After they caught Hit-girl, they made it illegal to dress up in a mask and cape, even in Halloween. Superheroes had a choice of quitting or moving away to where the chances of capture were lower. Criminals just took off their costumes and resumed their business.
It had been years since he'd had Mindy training him. Thankfully, he'd grown a bit so he cut a more intimidating figure, or so he thought, in the dark. On the other hand, he'd outgrown his old costume. That was the time he had to seriously debate with himself if it was worth it to go on. He had little in the way of income, and he couldn't get anything delivered directly, which meant spending more to get it delivered from an anonymous site.
Well, here he was, in his new costume, trying not to step on anything that would make too much noise, squinting in the faint light. So far, nothing. Most nights, there was nothing, anyway. Then a squeal, a grunt, and before he knew it, hell broke loose.
Rats scattered from a nearby trash bin, one rebounding off his boot. Then someone was bowling into him. Kick-ass remained upright, while the man stumbled, caught himself and scrambled away. Barks, growing in volume, followed.
Kick-ass sprang to action, running after the man who had bumped into him. He had gotten faster - not that the man he was chasing was fast, to begin with - and he caught up with ease. The man was within arm's reach when something crashed on his back. Kick-ass found himself kissing pavement, his ribs straining as he was winded from the impact. "We got him!" a man's voice called out.
Kick-ass tried to struggle to his feet. Ahead of him, just slightly out of focus, a big, burly man was bent over the man he had just been chasing - and helping him up. Hearing alarm bells in his head, he felt around for his baton with one hand while trying to push himself up with another.
His hand closed on his baton, but before he can move another muscle, he heard that deep, threatening growl of the dog behind him. He hesitated, and before he can get the half-second back, a boot descended on his hand. It didn't stamp down or ground on his hand like villains do to heroes clinging to a cliff. It was just there, poised, waiting for him to move. So Kick-ass didn't move his hand. Instead, he raised his head, and saw a phantom.
Two eyes, shining in the darkness. He could see neither face nor silhouette. Just two disembodied, shining eyes in the darkness. His first, irrational thought - as would any self-confessed nerd's - was "WHITE WALKER!". Then his rational mind set in. The dog was faster. By the time Dave had turned back to Kick-ass, it was halfway to the mysterious figure.
'AOUU!' the dog cried out as something hit it and sent its head crashing onto the wall of the tight alley. It tried to get back up, whining weakly, but its head was hit again. This time, the dog stayed still after its head bounced off the wall. The big man rushed into the shadows.
"Who the hell are you?!" cried the man Kick-ass was chasing just moments ago. He was inching back, apparently forgetting the fallen hero lying face down just behind him. He stopped in shock as the man who had helped him up was beaten to a pulp by whoever, or whatever, was hidden by the shadows.
The man's face whipped to the right. His right knee buckled. Then he made a choked, gurgling sound as he went down, convulsing weakly, hands clawing at his throat. The creepy-eyed figure skipped past him, coming into the light slowly, and Kick-ass' eyes widened.
It was a kid. Well, mid-teens, maybe, depending on how much of his - or was it her - height was the costume. The kid was wearing a thick, dark-grey jacket that almost reached his knees, the hood covering his face in shadow. His pants were the same shade of grey, scuffed black boots completing the ensemble. He was holding two sticks. Not batons like Kick-ass'. More akin to those short sticks in kung-fu movies, polished wood a foot and a half long each.
The kid's eerie, impossibly-silver eyes flicked to the man who had resumed inching back. The haunting stare dismissed the man as Kick-ass felt the boot leave his hand. The person who had pinned down Kick-ass was a woman, he saw in shame, and she flicked a switchblade open as she approached the kid .
The kid crossed the sticks just in front of his knees, waiting for the woman to come to him. She did, holding out the knife cautiously in front of her. "Come on! We can take him! He's just a kid!" she hissed to the cowardly man.
Dave, who had seen 'a kid' do things he'd only seen in Punisher comics, privately disagreed with her, but wasn't about to wait around in any case. He grabbed his baton tightly and pushed himself up to his feet, hoping the one baton would be enough.
It was. The coward took one hit - to a forearm he'd put up defensively - and passed out. Kick-ass, who's seen some dastardly tricks through the years, tapped him with the tip of one boot, but the man didn't stir.
When he turned back, the woman was in a heap by the kid's feet. The kid looked at him, eyes flicking down. Kick-ass felt a chill race down his spine; he was being appraised, sized, measured for combat. He knew he probably didn't look much the superhero after being taken down, losing one weapon, and getting pinned down by a woman. Where is Mindy when you need her?
End of Chapter 1