Greetings dear readers.

A thousand pardons for the delay in the update. I had this chapter written out a week ago, but I was unable to get it posted. For some reason, I couldn't upload it.

A HUGE shout-out to Makokam in assisting in getting this uploaded. Thanks so much!

Another shout-out to forcedInduction for his advice in technical matters regarding communication devices. (Check out his fic "Fall Damage", if you haven't already. :)

I hope everyone is having a happy St. Patrick's Day. How fitting that a chapter featuring The Celtic Chicks is published today. J

I guess you all know by now that I'm addicted to reviews. Methadone doesn't work. Please stop my withdrawal by sating the addiction. :)

And awayyyyy we go!

Dave drove the Mistmobile into the former garage that now served as their main safehouse/garage. He shut off the motor as he and Mindy egressed from the car. Stretching his back after the drive back from the Bronx he saw Crosshairs approaching from their weapons locker.

"Hey Todd." Dave said with a smile at his oldest friend as he pulled off his mask.

"Hey Dave. How'd it go?" Todd responded as he wiped his hands clean with a rag.

"We got a name off of him. Mike the Mooch."

"Seriously?"

"That's what our now incarcerated fellow-alumni told us."

"How long before he gave it up?"

"About five second after the douche pissed himself!" Mindy piped up from the passenger side of the car as she removed her own mask and wig.

"He pissed his pants?"

"Damn straight. It was a beautiful sight. Dave nearly put his head through the wall at least three times. The fucker looked like an unholy mix of blood, piss and plaster dust by the time we sent him into the streets to find some cops to surrender to." Mindy said with a contended sigh as she recalled the memory…and how wet she got at watching Dave reduce the would-be-tough-guy drug dealer into a quivering mass of gelatinous fear.

"Sure. You two are out gallivanting all night! And what about me, stuck here repairing your grapple gun, restocking the flashbangs and tear-gas grenades?" Todd said in a clearly faked tone of resentment as Dave laughed. "You never take me out anyplace, anymore! I'm left babysitting the Scarlet-Wiki!" Todd said in a teasing tone.

"I heard that!" Came a voice from what had been the garage's office, as Angela emerged and walked out into the carport. She fixed Todd with a glare that was offset by her good-natured smile. "I'm the one who came to keep you company."

"Children, children…" Dave said with a laugh. "We got some good intelligence from Jeremiah; which is ironic, as he had to be one of the least intelligent guys we've handled in a while. He said that the next guy up from him is someone with the handle Mike the Mooch and whose favourite corner is by Citi Field."

"I checked out that name when you guys were on your way back. I didn't find anything. There's nobody in the police database who goes by that streetname." Angela said. "Oh, by the way, The Bronx Bomber and Babe Ruthless just checked back in. They lived up their names and the basketball court is now free of thuggish bullies. The residents may want to hose the blood off the court though before the next game." The redheaded hacker reported.

"Do you think he hasn't been arrested for anything yet?" Todd speculated as he poured two cups of coffee from the coffee maker and handed a cup to Angela with a shy smile. Angela responded with her own smile as she accepted it.

"I can't see that." Mindy said as she pulled her blonde hair free from its bun and let it fall down over her shoulders. "These guys are low-level thugs. Jacob B. Jeremiah would've had to have gone to Fordham for four years just to upgrade to 'shit for brains'. I'd bet any money that the next piece of shit above him isn't a whole hell of a lot smarter. So, I don't see Mike the Mooch as smart enough or lucky enough to have never been arrested before."

"So, what's the next step?" Angela asked as she pushed back her red hair over her shoulder.

"That's why we wanted you two here." Dave said. "We have a plan, but it's going to need all four of us out on this one."

"We're going to do some undercover work." Mindy said as she noted the smiles on Todd and Angela's faces. "Tomorrow, Angela and I are going to introduce ourselves to Mike the Mooch."

"What're we going undercover as?" Angela said with barely contained enthusiasm.

"Take a guess." Mindy said with a smile.

"The Celtic Chicks?" Angela said with her eyes wide with hopeful glee. She loved the occasional opportunity to get out in the field.

"Damn straight" Mindy replied as Angela let out a protracted 'squeeee' as Todd laughed at Angela's sheer enthusiasm.

"I love doing The Celtic Chicks!" Angela giggled.

"We know." Dave said in a deadpan voice. "Alright, so, Mindy and Angela will be promoting the upcoming CD of The Celtic Chicks. I'll be back-up down at street level. Todd, you'll do your usual job with the XM2010."

"I'll have to have a look around the area. I need to see what my vantage points will be. What time are we doing this?

"The guy's supposedly on his corner around four in the afternoon. Mindy and I were thinking we'd do this around five, when it's dark."

"That's no problem. I'll pack my low-light scope. Do you think I'll be really needed?" Todd asked, in reference to his other unique skill set that had given him his nom de guerre.

"It's very highly unlikely. We're making a simple approach then leaving. I don't see anything bad going down." Mindy said. Todd nodded at her words.

"Ok, but I still want to look over that area tonight so I'll have an idea what to expect tomorrow. I think I'll swing by there on the way home…" Todd said until he remembered he was Angela's ride home. "Do you mind?" He asked the redhead.

"Not at all." Angela replied, suppressing a smile at the thought of spending extra time with Todd in the car.

"Cool." Todd replied. This was turning out to be a great night. First, Angela came in to keep him company and now she was coming with him on his reconnaissance detour. He smiled to himself as he admired how her red hair seemed to contrast so nicely with her white Millard Fillmore High Cheerleaders sweatshirt.

"Angela, did you get anything off of the license plate we gave you?" Dave asked.

"Yeah, it's registered to Irving Klein of Long Island." Angela said as she consulted her steno-pad.

"Irving Klein…." Mindy repeated thoughtfully. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"You've probably read about him. I did a Google search and got a ton of hits. All of them involve criminal cases in the courts. He's a defense lawyer. And the vast majority of his clients, at least from what the articles indicate, are soldiers for the various crime families in the city."

"A mob lawyer?" Dave said as he pondered the situation. "Well, that explains the Mercedes S-600. However, it doesn't explain why a low-level pusher like Jeremiah is doing being driven around by a mob lawyer."

"Who defended Jeremiah on his last court appearance?" Mindy asked.

"It was somebody from the Public Defender's office. Jeremiah pled guilty at his arraignment and got three years at Wall-Kill."

"Could the guy be working pro-bono?" Todd asked as he looked up from putting his tools away.

"Klein? No way. His reputation is that he doesn't care if you're guilty, only that you can pay. He believes in innocent until proven broke. And his fees are right up there." Angela replied.

"Hey. What about the most obvious thing that we've obviously forgotten here?" Dave said. "Jeremiah wasn't under arrest or in any sort of legal trouble until after we got through with him. He wouldn't need a defense lawyer. And there's all that cash he was carrying…." Dave said as his voice trailed off.

"Klein's helping set-up the drug labs in Manhattan and The Bronx?" Mindy pondered.

"It sure looks that way." Dave said as he suppressed a smile. The case was bigger than he'd anticipated. He only hoped it proved to be a real challenge. "Right…After we get a real name off of Mike the Mooch, we can trace him back and see if he's tied into anyone. We'll crosscheck it with anyone who Klein has represented in court and see if we get any matches." He was already feeling the stirrings of excitement the chase always gave him. This Mike the Mooch was probably a small time loser. But, once they worked their way up the chain, he hoped they could find someone who would truly be a challenge for them.

"That's a start." Mindy agreed. She recognized the look on Dave's face. He was feeling it now, she knew. He'd gotten a first scent of a quarry and now the hunt was beginning. The game was on.

"I just hope it's not a finish." Dave replied. He noticed Todd and Angela had pulled their coats on and were getting to leave.

"You two are heading home?" He asked.

"Yeah, well, we're going to swing by Citi Field first and look around the area, then home. We'll meet up at your place tomorrow?" Todd asked.

"That's right. Angela and I need to suit up. Can you be there around four?"

"We'll be there." Angela said as Todd help the door open for her as they departed. Dave and Mindy noted the animated way Todd and Angela were talking as they walked back to Todd's car. Mindy noted how Angela made a point of gently touching Todd's arm when she spoke to him. She smiled to herself as she saw how smitten Angela clearly was with Todd…and Todd was definitely reciprocating the interest. She sighed to herself as she wished Dave felt that way about her. She stifled a giggle at the thought of how weird, but cool it would be, if the four of them went on a double-date together. She sighed forlornly and turned to her partner.

"You really rocked it in the Bronx tonight." Mindy said with a smile.

"Thanks. I just went with what came naturally."

"Hm. I remember when your 'natural' instinct in a drug dealer's apartment was to freak out on the floor while I took care of them." Mindy said with an arched eyebrow and a grin.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest hour." Dave admitted sheepishly. He still recalled the sheer shock that bordered on paralytic fear he'd felt as he watched the little girl in a purple costume effortlessly and savagely slaughter an entire roomful of large, grown men.

"That's a classic understatement. But, tonight…I'd say you'd have had Rasul pissing himself." Mindy said with a proud smile as she touched Dave's arm gently.

Dave suppressed a shiver as Mindy's hand –now shed of her reinforced gloves- touched his arm. He liked it when she touched him like that. He liked it when she complimented him on the progress he'd made as a costumed crimefighter since that night they first met, almost four years ago now.

"Well, what can I say? I had the best teacher in the world."

"Oh stop." Mindy said, even though she loved hearing him compliment her on the job she'd done in turning him from the geeky, self-described 'dick in a wetsuit' into the brutally efficient, cunning and feared costumed hero that now stood at her side every night as her equal partner.

"No. It's the truth." Dave said with a smile as he touched her hand with his own. He forced himself to bite down on his lip to keep himself from reacting to how wonderful her bare skin felt against his. For a brief moment he wondered what would happen if he should tell her how he felt about her and how badly he wanted to be with her. What would happen?

"Mindy…." Dave began.

"Yeah?" Mindy said, peering at him with those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. A dozen different reactions ran through Dave's mind at what would happen if he spilled his guts right then, to her. None of them were good. He felt his courage drain from him. He couldn't wreck what they had by his own selfish desire for more.

"Um, maybe we could change and get that hot chocolate we talked about earlier, on the way home. It's my treat." Dave said sheepishly, internally cursing himself for his lack of courage.

Mindy gave him an adorable half-smile. "With marshmallows?"

"How else do you take your hot chocolate?" Dave said with a laugh that he hoped didn't sound too faked.

"You're just too good to me you know." Mindy said as she went off to the washroom to change out of her costume.

"I could never be that to you." Dave said under his breath as he grabbed the gym bag with his civilian clothes and walked over to Angela's office to change out of his own work uniform.

The following afternoon, darkness was gathering in at the intersection of Willets Point Boulevard and 39th Street in the Flushing Meadows-Corona Park neighbourhood of Queens. Just as the last light was leaving the sky, a figure crept out onto the roof of a building that overlooked the intersection. Two blocks away was Citi Field, where the New York Mets played during the baseball season. He was dressed in a dark grey, two piece uniform. He wore a dark navy balaclava that came down from a watch cap, and he wore a pair of night-goggles that were currently pushed up on his forehead. On his chest, in muted red, he wore an emblem that resembled the crossed hairs of a rifle scope inside a circle. The emblem was his inspiration for his nom de guerre. Todd Haynes, known to the hero community as Crosshairs, crept to the edge of the roof and looked down at Willets Point Boulevard.

Todd raised a pair of binoculars to his eyes and scanned up and down the street. (The streetlights provided enough illumination so that he had no need for his night-vision goggles at the moment.) So far, there was nothing going on. This was a good vantage point. He could see up and down the street easily. He next opened up the case he was carrying and began to expertly assemble the XM2010 sniper rifle. Once it was assembled and the ammunition ready, he turned his attention back to the street.

He keyed his microphone.

"I'm in position at Vantage Point Alpha. Nothing so far."

"It's still early. Stand by, and I'll see if our friend is on any of the side streets." Dave replied to him in a low voice, from street level. "Can you see me?"

Todd looked over the edge again and caught sight of Dave. Todd couldn't help but laugh. Dave was dressed in a surplus Army jacket, had a red-haired wig on under a dark newsboy cap, along with a fake handlebar mustache and beard. He was walking up and down the street, wearing a sandwich board which read 'THE END IS NIGH!". Todd wondered if anyone would recognize the homage to Rorschach from Watchmen. That was the great thing about how Dave and Mindy worked, he thought. They had style.

Todd looked again and saw a newcomer moving into a corner to the north of his position. He looked with his binoculars and instantly saw that the newcomer was large. He had to weigh at least 300 pounds, as Jacob B. Jeremiah had told them. The guy also had a mullet, a goatee and was wearing a New York Mets jacket. Bingo. He keyed his microphone.

"We have the target."

"Where is he?"

"He looks to be a little north of you. He's just south of Stadium Coffee Shop."

"Ok. I see him. Shit, he's a big guy." Dave noted from street level.

"I noticed. Think there'll be trouble?"

"I seriously doubt it. Ok. Let The Celtic Chicks know it's time for them to do their thing."

"I'm on it." Todd replied. He pulled out his "work" phone and sent a simple text: 'Try Stadium Coffee Shop'.

Over on 126th Street, in the glare of Citi Field's lights Mindy's phone chirped a text alert. She pulled it out and read the text to her companion.

"Stadium Coffee Shop, he says. That has to be around here somewhere." Mindy said as she looked up and down 126th Street as Angela pulled out her iPhone and did a quick search.

"It's about two blocks over, on Willets Point Boulevard." Angela said, pointing down 38th Avenue.

"Eggs-cellent" Mindy said with a smirk as the two girls began to walk over the two blocks east. A few pedestrians gave them a second glance as they passed by. In truth, the two were not dressed like typical high school students from Queens. Mindy was wearing a tartan skirt, a tartan sash and a matching shawl. On her feet she wore ghillie shoes and she had a Tam-o-shanter bonnet on her head. Angela, meanwhile, was dressed in a bright green skirt, with an Irish tartan, and a white lace blouse under a green jacket and a dark green Tam-o-shanter, embroidered with a shamrock, on her head. She also wore ghillie shoes. They were each carrying a canvas bag.

Within minutes the duo turned right off of 38th Avenue onto Willets Point Boulevard and walked south to towards the Stadium Coffee Shop.

"There's Mike the Mooch." Mindy said quietly.

"He's big." Angela noted nervously.

"Shit. Don't worry about that. He's big but I sure as hell don't think he's fast. If something happens –which I really don't think will happen- there's no way he can lay a finger on us. Hell, he'd probably collapse or something if he tried to run more than three feet."

On his rooftop vantage point, Todd took a breath, and looked through his rifle scope, centering it on the scene in the street below. If Mike the Mooch were to try anything with Mindy and Angela –and for whatever reason they couldn't handle it themselves- he would put his skills to use. Of course, Todd could see that Mike the Mooch appeared to be one burrito away from a pretty bad myocardial infarction. He figured that he would not be needed. He figured his main job would be to just keep an eye on things from above.

Dave, wearing his sandwich board, also prowled along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He'd already figured Mike the Mooch would be no match for Mindy. His only worry was if there were other dealers working with the obese pusher who might involved. If that happened, he would be there in about three seconds flat. In the meantime, he observed Mindy and Angela go into the well-rehearsed act.

The two girls approached Mike the Mooch, who –now that they got a close look at him- really was a dead ringer for Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, aside from his Italian-Samoan heritage. They stopped in front of him and smiled broadly.

"Hi" They chorused cheerfully.

"What can do for –or with- you two young ladies?" Mike the Mooch wheezed as he tried his best to look suave, rather than an extremely obese man with a bad haircut.

"Funny you should ask…" Began Mindy. "I'm Morag MacGonagle"

"And I'm Colleen Bridget Fitzgerald. And we're…" Continued Angela, her naturally enthusiastic personality shining through.

"The Celtic Chicks!" The two girls chorused in bubbly voices.

"The what?" Mike the Mooch asked as he wiped sweat –despite the cold December evening- from his brow.

"The Celtic Chicks." They repeated. "We're doing a compilation CD of Scottish" Continued Mindy.

"And Irish" Angela finished. "Folk music" They said together.

"This is going to be what our CD will look like." Angela said, pulling out a CD case from her bag. It was a picture of her and Mindy posing together in what looked like an Irish bar. (It was actually her own basement that boasted a wooden wet bar and dark wall panels. A little set dressing and it looked perfect for them to take the pictures.)

"You haven't made it yet?" Mike the Mooch asked as he accepted the CD and looked at the picture on the cover. His flabby jowls quivering as he looked both of the girls over. It wasn't hard to discern what he was thinking as he seemed to be mainly drawn to the fact that for the picture, Mindy and Angela were wearing short kilts and their blouses were unbuttoned at the top. Mindy suppressed a smirk. They'd dressed that way deliberately, figuring that it would draw the attention of most likely suspects.

"Not yet." Mindy said cheerfully. "We're just promoting for when we can afford to make it and get it distributed. Can we put you down for one?" Mindy asked as she subtly reached out with her –gloved- hand and retrieved the CD, that Mike the Mooch, had been practically molesting with his hands. She slid it back into her canvas bag…that held an evidence bag inside of it and closed both of them up.

"I don't think so sweetie. But, if you two are looking to make some cash, I know some people who'd pay you two some good money. A couple of hot young ladies such as yourselves…All you'd have to do is pose for some pictures. You'd make more than enough for your CD. And you'd get some fans who'd buy it afterwards too. All you two would have to do in the pictures is lose those cute outfits you're both wearing…and maybe get really close and personal with each other." The obese drug dealer said with a salacious leer.

Mindy and Angela exchanged a look then looked back at Mike the Mooch.

"Fat chance!" They chorused.

The two of them then broke into a chorus of embarrassed –and faked- giggling and simply set off on a brisk walk down towards 39th Avenue. Mindy reached into her pocket and took hold of her balisong. Angela, meanwhile, took hold of the tazer she was carrying. Both strained their ears to see if Mike the Mooch was trying to follow them. Neither was at all concerned about him being a threat to him. But, it would be best for their case if he didn't suspect anything was amiss –and being hospitalized by a pair of high school girls definitely counted as 'something amiss', which is why they hoped it wouldn't come to that. Mindy looked up at a building and was just able to make out the figure of Todd. Her phone chimed a text message. It was from Todd and informed her that Mike the Mooch wasn't following but had resumed standing at his corner.

"What a douche." Mindy growled. It was only the fact that Mike the Mooch might be their best link to finding the person above him that had kept her from breaking his face.

"Can you believe what he wanted us to do?"

"Oh, I believe it."

"You don't think anything should be done about him? I can't believe you didn't, well, break something on him." When the obese drug dealer had made his suggestion, Angela had been fully prepared for Mindy to do…well, what Mindy did really well.

"Oh, something will be done, and things will likely be broken on him, but not tonight. He's just the way to get the bigger fish." Mindy said as they resumed walking back to the arranged meeting place.

An hour later, the four were gathered in Dave and Mindy's lair. Todd, Angela and Mindy were sipping warm drinks to recover from either wearing weather inappropriate clothing or being perched on a cold rooftop. At a work table, beneath a high-intensity light, Dave was expertly applying fingerprint dust to the CD case.

"And voila, a veritable vichyssoise of verifiable fingerprints, which verily validates our vigilance this very evening." Dave said with a satisfied chuckle.

"How long were you rehearsing that?" Mindy asked in a deadpan tone accompanied by a smirk.

"An hour, or so. But we've got good prints." Dave said as he snapped some pictures of the prints and then began to lift them onto a sheet.

"Ok" Said Mindy once Dave had completed that task. "Now, we change and go see Marcus."

An hour later, Lieutenant Marcus Williams, walked out of One Police Plaza in Manhattan. He wondered idly what was happening now. Ten minutes previously, he'd gotten a text message, from Mindy, asking him to come outside.

Marcus wondered if it'd be Mindy greeting him –along with Dave, more than likely- or Hit-Girl with Kick-Ass with her. If he had to guess, it would be the former. (The area around One Police Plaza was simply too well lit, as well as covered by security cameras for a duo in costumes to get close and not be noticed.) As he descended the steps, he saw Mindy, looking like the regular girl that Marcus now accepted she'd never be, standing by the streetlights, Dave beside her. Well, Marcus thought, they're not in costume for a change. He saw them exchange words and smile at each other. Marcus sighed. In all honesty, he wasn't sure what worried him more. What they got up to when they were in costume...or what they did on their occasional evenings off when they just hung out. Whenever he came home from a night shift, he entered the house half-expecting/half-dreading walking in on the two of them in some sort of compromising position. He knew from their body language –and twenty years of police work had taught him to read body language very well- that nothing had happened between them...at least, not yet. However, he could see the way they simply clicked together and the looks Mindy gave Dave that a tempest was brewing. Ah, the joys of raising a teenage girl, Marcus thought. As he drew near, he saw that Mindy was carrying a Starbucks tray.

"Hi Marcus." She said.

"Hi Mindy. Hi Dave." Marcus said warily. "What brings you over here?"

"We thought you'd like a latte." Dave said pleasantly as he handed Marcus a take-out cup.

"Oh, thanks." Marcus said as he accepted the cup and took a tentative sip. It was just how he liked it; skim milk with a sweetener. "What's that?" He asked looking at the large brown bag.

"A lemon scone…and something else." Mindy said with an emphasis. Marcus looked into the bag and saw that there was a sealed envelope inside of it. He looked up questioningly.

"Fingerprints?" He sighed resignedly.

"Yes" Mindy said quietly.

"Fill me in when I get home. Thanks again for the coffee and scone." Marcus sighed as he waved to the duo and went back into the headquarters building. He'd drop the envelope off at the lab before heading back to his desk in the Major Case Squad office. He was damned lucky that the supervisor of the fingerprint section was a friend of his –and Damon's- going back to their days at the academy. As such, he was willing to run fingerprints through the computers for a check. As well, Marcus knew that a lot of cops now had unofficially begun working with various costumed heroes. The cops would offer up information while the costumed crimefighters would leave easy busts for the cops to bring in. Officially, the department refused to sanction 'vigilante justice' and said they'd arrest anyone in costume they caught carrying out acts of vigilante action. Unofficially, however, a lot of officers –of all ranks- had come to appreciate the fact that the city's costumed crimefighters could sometimes do things that the police couldn't and were able to get results due to not having to worry about legal niceties. It had become a standard 'unofficial' procedure for uniformed patrol officers or plain clothes anti-crime units who had come across costumed heroes making short work of various criminals, to simply ignore what was going on. The officers would just stand back and wait for the heroes to depart, and then suddenly 'notice' the criminals left behind and make arrests. All across the New York Police Department, it was well known that the 'official' position was bullshit and nobody was going to try and enforce it. (The Chief of Police was even heard to say –after a couple of pints of Guinness at last year's St. Patrick's Day celebrations- that they had enough work to do catching the official criminals. He certainly wasn't going to waste manpower and energy trying to catch people who were actually trying to help them out…even if some of them might be certifiable lunatics themselves.) Marcus was simply the contact for the two best heroes in the city. It was a knife's edge he walked and he knew it. He was a cop and he was actively assisting costumed vigilantes. However, he couldn't deny that Dave and Mindy got results. Nor could he deny that in a city where the police were often compromised by corruption, sometimes outsiders were needed to step in to help.

As he walked to the elevators, he wondered what type of case Dave and Mindy had found now. All Marcus knew so far was that if Dave and Mindy were after someone…It was only a matter of time until they brought the prey to ground. As he entered the elevator, Marcus shook his head and couldn't help but grin as he took a sip of his beverage. He'd grown up reading comic books, like most kids. (Although, in hindsight, he clearly was not as big a fan as Damon had been.) He remembered as a kid, occasionally playing at being the various characters in the comics. He'd never have dreamed in a million years that one day people would do it for real…and the part he would play was Commissioner Gordon.