Greetings readers, wow I can't believe I got this chapter up in such a relatively short time. This is the longest chapter yet. I do hope that nobody thinks it's too long or starting to get boring. It does have some good Dave/Mindy scenes, so I'm hoping that'll offset the length of the fic. :-D

The character of Daniel Aloysius Malone is Jason Flemyng's character from the film. In the credits he's listed as "Lobby Goon". I realized he needed an actual name, so this is what I came up with for him.

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed. It's the good reviews that inspire me to write more and to write it faster. :-D

Once again, I ask everyone to take pity on a review addict by feeding the addiction. :-D

Happy reading everyone! :-)

The Case of the Santa Claus Strangler, Part VII

Mindy glared hatefully at her cell phone as she and Dave ran southwest on MacDougal Street before making a left turn onto Bleecker Street.

"Fuck this phone!" she screamed in frustration as she angrily shoved it back into her pocket.

"What exactly did they say?"

"Nothing, they said absolutely fucking nothing! Only that they had to take Marcus into Bellevue!" Mindy said through clenched teeth as she fought to keep her eyes from watering.

"Bellevue's only about two miles from here. We can probably get there faster this way then trying to get a cab or something."

"Fuck, I know!" Mindy screamed as the duo raced along Bleecker Street, past Broadway and then Lafayette Street. At The Bowery they turned right and raced a short way down until they got to East 1st Street. There, they dashed along, past 2nd Avenue until they arrived at 1st Avenue. There, the two crimefighters turned left and began to run the just over the 1.1 miles up 1st Avenue to Bellevue Hospital.

Few words were exchanged between the pair as they ran along the Manhattan streets. Dave was concentrating on running and mentally planning what to do if they arrived at the hospital to find bad news awaiting them. He promised himself that he would be strong should Mindy need him to be and would make sure that she was taken care of. If it came to it, she could move into his house. She could have his room and he would use a pullout couch down in their "lair". He just hoped his friend wouldn't lose someone else, as she'd suffered far too many losses already.

Mindy, on her part, was also silent. She didn't trust herself to speak, and she was glad Dave was staying silent as well.

Soon enough, they came up on 462 1st Avenue, Bellevue Hospital. Dave noted as they headed for the Emergency Room entrance that there were a number of police cars parked there. Of course, that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Police cars were almost always at Bellevue for one reason or another. Dave did notice that there were several Ford Crown Victoria's that were unmarked –which naturally made them look all the more like police cars- and which were used by the Anti-Crime Unit; Marcus' unit. Dave didn't comment on the presence of the cars there. He simply looked over at Mindy as he realized she had to have noticed them as well. She was looking straight ahead and biting down on her lower lip.

The two raced into the Emergency Room. It was the usual chaotic scene that marked one of the busiest Trauma Centers in the United States. Dave noticed that there were several cops, both uniformed and plain clothes Anti-Crime Unit officers, congregated in various clusters. Some were reviewing their notebooks. Others were talking about whatever had transpired, as was evidenced by their hand gestures. Others were simply drinking coffee together and engaged in general conversation. Dave tried to read their faces for some sign of what they would find. He was distracted however, by Mindy's tearing off to try and find someone who could tell her where Marcus.

"Excuse me," she said to a jaded looking duty nurse talking on the phone. "Sergeant Marcus Williams…Where is he?"

"Just one second, honey." The nurse responded in a bored tone and resumed her conversation about some sort of paperwork on a patient that had not reached the orthopedic ward.

Mindy just gave a glare to the nurse and was about to reach over and literally yank the phone out of the wall when Dave came up behind her.

"Where's Marcus?" he asked her as he put his hand on her shoulder.

"Fuck, I don't know yet." Mindy growled as she unconsciously reached up and squeezed Dave's hand with her own. She was about to reach across the counter and let the distracted nurse know that she wanted information on Marcus, and she wanted it now. She also considered simply charging at the security doors leading into the triage area of the Trauma Center, taking out the security guard with a crescent kick to the head and forcing her way through. Luckily for all involved, she never got the chance to exercise either option. A rangy looking uniformed officer wearing a Sergeant's chevrons on his winter duty jacket approached them.

"You said you're looking for Marcus? Marcus Williams?"

"Yeah, that's right." Dave said instantly as he figured Mindy might not be able to keep her temper –and vocabulary- in check. The officer nodded in acknowledgement and looked at Mindy.

"Are you Mindy?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Mindy! Now please, where is he?" Mindy asked in a voice that Dave could tell she was fighting to keep civil in both tone and content.

"Ah," the officer said. He gestured for the two of them to follow him through the security doors. He waved to the guard on duty that they were cleared to go through. Inside the triage areas, there was even more chaos than outside. Dave noted that surrounding one trauma bay, there were a pair of uniformed officers standing by, watching the medical staff work and they quietly exchanged comments. Dave gulped and wondered if that was where they were being taken to.

"I'm Sergeant Reynolds." the uniformed officer introduced himself. "I'm the one who called you. I'm sorry we got cut off. Apparently the battery on Marcus' cell phone, which I was using, ran out just then. I would have called you back, but I didn't have your cell number handy –I just used Marcus' contact list on his phone to call. I finally got it and was about to call you back when you showed up here."

"Fine, but where is…" Mindy asked through teeth clenched with worry as she suddenly cut off.

"Mindy!" a familiar voice called from a trauma bay they'd passed by. Mindy spun around and charged in. "Marcus!" she cried as she more or less crashed into the curtained alcove with Dave right on her heels.

The two crimefighters stopped short as they took in the sight of Marcus. It wasn't what they'd led themselves to expect. Marcus was propped up on a gurney, a Sports Illustrated magazine –likely brought from the waiting room- in his hands. Aside from some dirt and salt stains on his clothing and some scrapes he appeared fine…save for his left ankle. It was resting on a small pillow, after the shoe and sock had been removed. It had a cold pack on, but was obviously very badly swollen.

"Marcus!" Mindy cried and launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. "What happened?" she said with a voice that she was only controlling through her years of training.

"Didn't they tell you?" Marcus asked in a puzzled tone as he smiled and nodded in recognition of Dave.

"Mindy just got a call on her cell phone that you'd been brought into Bellevue." Dave said with relief. He felt tension pouring out of his body as he saw that Marcus clearly was not seriously injured.

"Oh, that's what I was trying to tell you." Sergeant Reynolds said. "When I called you, I was about to tell you that it wasn't anything serious when the phone died. I was about to call you back when you two got here. You got here really fast. Were you somewhere close?"

"We were over at MacDougal Street in the Village. We were…on our way to check out Village Comics. We're both big comic geeks." Dave said with what he hoped was a sufficiently nerdy sounding voice to go with their cover story.

"Ah, I have a son who's big into comics too. How'd you get here so fast then?"

"We ran."

"You ran? You came that far and that fast? What are you guys, on the track team or something?" Reynolds said with a laugh.

"Or something" Mindy said as she finally released her hug on Marcus.

"Larry thanks for your help here. Can you maybe give us a few minutes alone though please?"

"Sure pal. Nice meeting you kids" Reynolds smiled and went back to the main waiting area. Marcus returned the smile and then looked at Dave and Mindy.

"You two ran all that way?" He asked them.

"He only said that you'd been taken in to Bellevue. He didn't tell me anything else before the call got dropped. We didn't want to f-, ah, mess around with a cab." Mindy said. "What happened?"

"My team was out on a drug sweep when we got a call about an armed robbery of a bodega. We were able to make the perp. He took off down an alley. Sally O'Neill, who was driving the unit, and I went after him on foot. He jumped a fence and we followed. He pulled a piece on us as we were coming over. He opened up just as I jumped down. He missed us, but I didn't look where I was landing. I guess I came down on some ice or something. I went over on my ankle badly. Sally got her Glock out and tagged the kid twice in the chest. He's over in the other trauma bay now, so far as I can tell. They don't think he'll make it, or that's what I heard from the nurse who brought me in the magazine"

Mindy stifled herself from saying that if the suspect did somehow survive his injuries, she would pay him a visit and make him wish he'd have flatlined and stayed that way. Instead, she just asked "But are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm waiting for an x-ray to see if it's broken or badly sprained. I guess I'm riding a desk the next few weeks though." He finally took notice of the fact that Mindy was wearing Scottish regalia and Dave was wearing a large cap and very darkly tinted glasses that made it very hard to identify his face. Marcus lowered his voice. "Can I assume you two were in the Village for something other than visiting Village Comics?"

"We'll tell you when you get home." Mindy said. "When are you getting home anyways?"

"Not for a while, I think. I get the idea they're pretty busy and an ankle x-ray isn't a high priority now."

"We'll stay here with you until you're discharged." Dave offered as he put his hand on Mindy's shoulder again. Mindy nodded her agreement as she squeezed his hand in gratitude.

"Forget that. I might be here until midnight. What I would like though, is if you two could go up to the precinct and" he paused as he reached into his hip pockets and removed a set of keys which he handed to Dave "drive the car back home. One of the guys will take me home when I'm finally sprung. I don't want to have to bother someone else by going to the precinct to pick up the car and drive it all the way home before they go home themselves. I'll have someone call the precinct and let the duty sergeant know you're coming to take the car so they'll let you into the reserved parking lot."

"Oh, we'll take care of it no problem." Dave said as he looked the car keys in his hand. After the relief of finding Marcus not badly hurt, he and Mindy would have pretty much agreed to do anything if asked.

"Good to hear. But Dave…You know that whole pain-reduction thing you've got going?"

"Yeah"

"If there's one new scratch on the car…You'll need it." Marcus said with a smile but a look that clearly warned Dave to be extra careful driving home.

"Uh, sure, I'll be careful." Dave said with a worried grin. He had a feeling Marcus meant what he said.

"Want me to drive, Marcus?" Mindy asked with a grin.

"Let me think about a minute…No!" Marcus responded unsurprisingly. "Now go on home. It's getting late. Mindy, there's some spaghetti sauce in the freezer for dinner if Dave wants to stay.

"Ok Marcus. I'll see you later." Mindy said as she gave her guardian a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry Marcus. I'll get Mindy and your car home safe." Dave said as he shook Marcus' hand before leaving himself.

"Thanks a lot. And Dave," he said as he gestured for Dave to lean in closely. "Thank you, for being there for Mindy today. I'm really glad she has you around." Marcus said with a smile before gesturing for the two of them to leave.

Dave and Mindy exited the hospital, stopping to thank Sergeant Reynolds on their way out. Once out of the hospital, the two of them walked down 1st Avenue to 26th Street where they turned right. Again, few words were spoken as they walked along 26th Street to Park Avenue South, where they turned right at the Hotel Giraffe and proceeded to walk northeast to the subway entrance at 28th Street. It wasn't until the two of them were seated on the Number 6 train that was headed for Pelham Bay Park that Dave finally turned to Mindy.

"Are you alright, Mindy?" He asked gently

"Fuck Dave…Fuck. The entire time we were running, all I could think of was how badly hurt he was. And, when was the last time I told him how much he means to me and how much I appreciate what he's done for me." She said in a tired sounding voice. That alarmed Dave. He was used to Mindy's foul-mouthed rants. He was used to her sarcasm. He was used to her gentle teasing when they did something fun together in their off hours. But, whenever she sounded so tired and plain beaten down it alarmed him. She was Hit-Girl. She was the person he was trying to be as good as when it came to fighting crime. To hear her sound like this shook him to his core.

"He'll be ok Mindy. It's just his ankle. It might not even be broken."

"Fuck, I know that. It's just…" She sighed as she wiped her eyes.

"It's just what?" Dave asked quietly as he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her slightly closer to him.

"It's just that I can't lose him. I can't lose anyone else. I lost my mom without even knowing her. I lost my dad. I can't lose Marcus. He's about all I have left. There are just about two people left now that I really care about. He's one of them." Mindy said softly as she fought back tears. Fuck me, she thought. She was disgusted with herself. First, she got all worried and nearly lost control when they were at the hospital. And now she was getting all weepy and emoting all over Dave. Mindy resolved to train harder for an extra hour the next day to punish herself for allowing her defenses to drop like this.

"Who's the other?" Dave asked absently as he pulled her in closer and rubbed her shoulder. He was glad that the train wasn't too full and the people that were on seemed to be the typical New Yorkers who simply did not notice and couldn't care less about the distress of a fellow subway passenger.

Mindy looked up at him. "You fucking have to ask? It's you dumbass! You're the best friend I've ever had." She said as a laugh over Dave's obliviousness was combating the tears that had formed despite her resolve against them. "You're such a fucking…I don't know what, at times, dude. But I am so totally fucking glad to have you."

Dave smiled as he felt a warm sensation come over him at Mindy's words. He was glad that she was able to open up to him and that he was that important to her. He pulled her in even closer and wrapped both arms around her in a hug. Mindy put her own arms around him and returned the hug.

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm really glad you have me like that and I'm just as glad I have you too." He said gently. He didn't see the smile that appeared on Mindy's face upon hearing what he said.

The nine stops went by quickly and soon enough Dave and Mindy stepped off the subway train onto the 103rd Street Station on the Lexington Line. From there, it was a very short walk to the 23rd Precinct.

Dave went into the station house and spoke to the desk sergeant. Marcus had indeed called ahead and arranged for Dave and Mindy to get access to the officer's parking area to take his car home.

Mindy found the car easily and Dave unlocked it so she could climb in. He went around to the driver's side and climbed into the driver's seat and fastened his seat belt while Mindy did the same with her belt.

He placed the key in the ignition and started the car up. Instantly a loud and oddly familiar song blasted from the stereo. While Dave was surprised, Mindy rolled her eyes with disgust and reached down to turn off the stereo. Dave shook his head a moment as he turned the car out onto East 102nd Street and then immediately turned left on Lexington Avenue

"Shit Mindy, that song…It sounded familiar."

"Yup" she said disgustedly.

"I can't place it, it's…" Dave searched his memory as he made another left turn onto East 96th Street.

"It's MMMBop by Hanson."

"Fuck, I thought that's what it was. What's it doing on Marcus' car stereo?"

"Well, Mister Detective-Costumed Crimefighter, you probably won't believe this…But it's his favourite song."

"Are you shitting me?" Dave asked with amusement as he turned right on 2nd Street.

"I fucking wish I was dude. But no, Marcus plays that song all the time when he's in the car."

"Shit, how do you handle that?" Dave asked. He shook his head in wonderment at this amusing revelation about Marcus while he turned left into East 92nd Street.

"Oh that's not so bad. What's really bad is when he sings along to it?" Mindy said in her 'You wanna play?' growl.

"What?" Dave said with a laugh.

"He drives along, singing along to fucking MMMBop!" Mindy said with a shake of her head as Dave merged from East 92nd Street onto FDR Drive South which would take them down to the Brooklyn Bridge.

"So, you're telling me that Marcus –a decorated New York cop- likes to sing along to MMMBop by Hanson –Hanson!- when he drives around?" Dave found himself laughing.

"It's not funny!" Mindy yelled, even though she was starting to laugh herself. "Guess who's often in the car when he's doing his karaoke driving? I've listened to that song so many fucking times that it's affecting my fucking head. I've had motherfucking dreams where you and I face off with a team of costumed thugs who want to become some type of Rogues Gallery-super villain…and it's fucking Hanson! They then start into MMMBop!"

"What happens after that?" Dave gasped in between spasms of laughter.

"It beats the fuck out of me. I usually wake up in a cold fucking sweat by that time!" Mindy laughed back at him. They were both releasing the pent up tension of both their afternoon undercover work and the worry about Marcus.

"Well, if we ever do meet up with fuckers like that, we'll leave them alone and call Marcus to handle it."

"Shit, that sounds like a good plan dude." Mindy said. Her attention was then distracted by another vehicle that passed them in the opposite direction. It was a brown WPS truck. She followed it with her eyes before speaking. "Fuck, I wonder what our buddy Heffernan is up to right now? I'd sure as hell hate to have another strangling when we're getting so close to him."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Well, what the fuck is our next step then?"

"When we get back to your place, I'll tell you what my plan is." Dave said simply as he maneuvered the car onto the Brooklyn Bridge ramp.

Thirty-five minutes later –the traffic had been heavy when they came off the Bridge in Brooklyn, and it had delayed their arriving back at Mindy's place- Dave pulled the car into Marcus' small driveway. Mindy hopped out and walked up to the door, reaching into her pockets for her house key.

She motioned for Dave to hurry up as she selected the key from one of several on her key ring. (The other keys were for Dave's house, the garage where they kept the Mistmobile, an extra key for said Mistmobile, a storage locker for unneeded equipment as well as some items that had belonged to her parents, and a key to at least one other safehouse where she had a cache of firearms and ammunition stored.) Dave stood close by her on the front stoop. She inserted the key and unlocked the door. The duo stepped in quickly as a beeping noise was heard and a red light flashed by the doorframe. Mindy quickly punched in a four-digit code and the beeping stopped with a green light now appearing.

"Marcus likes his security at home." Dave mused.

"Oh that's from before I moved in. I guess I can see his point. You never can tell when some assfuck he's busted might try to track him down at home and try some payback. After I moved in he wanted to get an upgrade. Personally, I wish he'd disconnect it…at least when I'm home." Mindy said as she pulled off her ghillie shoes and left them on the mat by the door.

"Why?" Dave asked although he felt could put five dollars on the answer.

"Fuck dude, someone douchenozzle tries something like that and I'm home…I call that the joys of working from home." She grinned.

Dave shook his head and chuckled at the thought of what Mindy would do to some poor, soon to be begging to be put out of his misery, punk who would do something stupidly suicidal like break into Hit-Girl's house when she was home. "Marcus might have a hard time explaining just how his thirteen year old adopted daughter turned a badass thug into, well, whatever type of wreckage you'd turn him into." Dave suggested with a smile. At least, Dave thought, Mindy was snapping back to normal. To hear her plan out violent and painful fates for the cowardly criminal scum of the city was music to his ears.

"Fuck it. I would leave him strung up on a post in the yard. He'd be a warning to any other dumb motherfucker who would try dropping by uninvited. Shit, I guess that would also keep the birds out of Marcus' vegetable garden too." Mindy smiled dreamily as she visualized the concept.

Dave couldn't help but laugh at that. That idea was so…Mindy. And she would do it to, if given the chance. "Wouldn't the local neighbourhood committee or something object to that?" He gasped between guffaws of laughter.

"Fuck them! If they don't like it, they can just kiss my ass!" Mindy said with a smirk. She was feeling much better now. It never seemed to fail, she'd noticed in the last year or so. Whenever she felt down or upset about her dad, she'd go and hang out with Dave. They'd train, they would go over plans, or sometimes they'd just go to Atomic Comics and talk over a beverage. Soon enough, she'd be planning out some insanely violent and gloriously bloodthirsty vengeance on whatever criminal element they happened to be focusing on at that time. Then, her dark mood would have passed and she was back to normal. (Well, the Mindy Macready variation of normal.) She really didn't like to think of how she would have gotten through those moods and black periods if she didn't have Dave in her life.

Mindy removed the light jacket she'd worn over her Highland dress and motioned for Dave to follow her up the narrow staircase. She led him into her bedroom. Dave looked around the room. It was rather strange to be standing in Hit-Girl's bedroom. It looked so…normal. Of course, Mindy wouldn't have anything out that would blatantly compromise her identity. (Even if it was her bedroom in her home, Dave knew she went by the maxim of 'better safe than sorry'.) About the only obvious thing that might connect Mindy to Hit-Girl upon a quick look was the colour. The predominant colour scheme in the room was purple. Aside from that, it could be the room of any tenth grader anywhere.

Mindy pulled off her white stockings and pulled a –naturally- light purple bathrobe from a hook behind her door.

"Dave, I'm going to go take a shower. I was sweating in some of those buildings I going door-to-door in. They must have the fucking temperature up around 80. And then we had our little sprint up to Bellevue. Can you go down and take that spaghetti sauce out of the freezer and put it in the microwave to thaw it?"

"No problem."

"Fucking-A excellent. Then I want to hear this big plan of yours. Shit Dave, you're really becoming the master strategist here. You pinpointed Heffernan's neighbourhood and now you have another idea?" Mindy smirked at Dave as she undid her tartan vest (Which Dave noted was the same tartan design as her Hit-Girl skirt. And that, she'd once told him, was the Macready family tartan.)

"Damn straight." Dave grinned at her as he turned around and went back downstairs to allow Mindy to undress for her shower.

Twenty minutes later, Dave and Mindy were seated at the kitchen table. A pot of water, containing pasta, was boiling on the stove. In the microwave, a large bowl of thawed spaghetti sauce was being heated. As their dinner cooked, Dave and Mindy were reviewing a map of the MacDougal Street neighbourhood where their prime suspect resided.

"OK." Dave began, as he pointed to the maps and notes. "Heffernan lives in this building here." He said as he ticked off the spot on the street map with a blue highlighter pen. "Now here, just about two blocks over, at the intersection of West Houston and Sullivan Street is this church; the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua."

"That's right."

"You said that when you got a look inside his apartment, it looked like he was the type who went to church regularly?"

"Damn straight. He had crucifixes and religious paintings on the walls. Do you think that's where he goes?"

"It's only two blocks from where he lives, so it would make sense if he did."

"OK. I can fucking see that, but how does it connect to the case?"

"Well, let's face it Mindy. This guy looks really good for it. From what his sister told us, from that bit we got from Marcus, and from what Fred Johnson said; everything points to him. Except…"

"Except…We don't have any hard evidence on him. There were no fingerprints found anywhere, according to the police reports. There are no eyewitnesses placing him at any the scenes. No blood, semen or saliva were found, so that rules out DNA evidence. Fuck, you know when you get down it, we can't even be certain that he's our guy."

"I know what you mean. We can't even be sure…yet. But, he feels right for it to me. Don't you feel that way too?"

"Damn straight. I feel it in my guy from what we've got so far. I felt a definite weird vibe when I was at his door today. But…But it's still not totally certain. And, I hate to say it, but even we can't do anything to him unless we are sure." Mindy sighed in frustration. She'd never had any problem with dispensing summary justice on the streets. She and her father had pretty much exterminated just about every member of the D'Amico mob. She'd decapitated a rapist once and had absolutely no problem with the idea of making Red Mist beg for his death long, LONG before she actually killed him. However…That was dealing with professional hoodlums or scum they'd caught in the act. As good as this Heffernan guy might look for the strangling cases, she couldn't and wouldn't allow herself to dispense summary justice to someone they simply suspected of being their suspect. Even if there was just one chance in a million they might have the wrong guy, they had to wait. It was agonizingly frustrating but, as Mindy realized, perhaps it was a part of what being a hero entailed.

"That's what I'm getting at Mindy. If we want to catch him and then put him away somewhere, we're going to have to catch him in the act."

"Fuck, it goes without saying that's the best way. But, there are a lot of fucking guys in Santa costumes this time of year, not surprisingly. We sort of can't stake out every one. And, if we tried to do surveillance and put a tail on him there's too much fucking risk of him spotting us before he tried anything. And then, he'd be spooked and before you know it he's in the wind. We wouldn't hear from him again until the next guy in a red suit goes belly up. He might even pull up stakes here and head anywhere he wants to: Buffalo, Rochester, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Boston…They all have guys in Santa suits out this time of year and would be easy pickings for him." Mindy shook her head dismissively at the thought. "No. We can't do any fucking surveillance. The risks would outweigh the reward and we couldn't keep at him twenty-four hours a day either."

"I was thinking more or less the same thing. I think that we have to pretty much deliver a target to him on a silver platter; right in his own backyard, so to speak."

"Yeah that would fucking work, I think. Where does the church come into it though?"

"I was thinking that this guy, if he's a regular, and is as religious as you say he looks to be, might come out to regular church activities –bazaars, bake sales, all that stuff."

"Alright"

"Well, what if this church were to sponsor some sort of Christmas bazaar, with a Santa Claus in attendance?" Mindy's blue eyes lit up at that suggestion.

"Holy shit dude! He would fucking flip his crazy shit! I mean, his trigger would be on a place he considers sacred ground. I think he might not be able to resist." She grinned in eager anticipation of bringing their quarry to ground.

"That's what I was thinking exactly." Dave said with a smile as he rose from the table and went to stir the pasta which now appeared to be ready. Mindy went to the microwave, donned oven mitts and removed the steaming sauce bowl.

"So, you've been the big thinker so far on this. What do you want to do next?" Mindy asked as Dave dished the pasta into some bowls while she added the hot meat sauce.

"I was thinking," Dave said as they set their bowls of food back on the table and began to eat "that we first need to go over to the church and see if we can arrange some sort of bazaar or Christmas street party. Do you want to do that after dinner? We can suit up and take the Mistmobile back over."

"Sure. Marcus sent me a text while I was showering –he apparently borrowed someone else's cell phone to do it. He said he's still waiting. He won't be home until well past midnight, most likely. Um, do you mind if we come back here after checking things out at the church? I kind of would like to be here when he gets home; I mean, in case he can't walk around too well and needs my help, or something." Mindy said with a half-smile.

"Sure Mindy." Dave said with a smile of his own as they tucked into their food.

An hour and a half later, Dave and Mindy –now in their costumes and in the Mistmobile- raced back across the Williamsburg Bridge over the East River. (They were avoiding the Brooklyn Bridge due to the earlier traffic congestion.)

"I wonder what they'll say at the church when we show up there dressed like this." Dave mused as he drove.

Mindy looked up from the directions on the GPS device with a smirk. "I think we'll be first superheroes to call on their rectory. At least I'd think we would be. New York is getting so fucking crazy some days you can never tell."

"I wonder how our sparring partners from this afternoon are faring." Dave snickered.

Mindy turned to her right and looked out the passenger side window. Far up the East River, she could just make out the lights of Riker's Island. "Oh, I'll bet they're on some decent painkillers, wondering just what the fuck happened to them this afternoon."

"That guy with the lead pipe looked like a fucking idiot."

"Shit, neither of them were exactly Phi Beta Kappa material. I think those two douchelicks would have to go to school for four fucking years just to upgrade to 'shit for brains'. You did a hell of a good fucking job on that retard with the knife, by the way."

"Thanks. You were awesome with Colonel Mustard and his lead pipe, yourself."

"Thanks right back at you. But fuck, that guy was easy. I was almost tempted to keep both hands behind my back and only just use my feet…just to make it a little challenging, you know. And…I noticed you didn't try punching the guy with your fists. Bra-fucking-vo! Alright, pop quiz: why do we try to avoid punching like that if we don't have sap gloves or knuckle-dusters on? You've got ten seconds to answer…" She looked at him intently with a smirk.

"We avoid barehanded punches because the human hand has twenty-seven bones including the wrist. These bones are generally small and comparatively delicate compared to the larger and heavier bones of the head and jaw. Striking these large and solid bones with an unprotected hand (which has those twenty-seven small bones) can result in injury to the hand, up to and including breaking a good number of these small bones. Thus we must avoid punching with unprotected hands. Contrary to what you see in movies, you don't knock a guy out with one punch to the face. All you're likely to do is turn your hand into a maraca." Dave finished his dissertation that had been drilled into him ever since he started his hard training with Mindy over a year before, with an arch to his eyebrows that couldn't be seen clearly under his mask.

Mindy smirked at him and nodded approvingly. "As Egghead would say: eggs-cellent. Now, for a bonus point, what DO we use rather than a bare fist for strikes to the head if, for whatever reason, we don't have sap gloves or knuckle-dusters on?"

"We use our elbows, which have a solid bone and can be delivered with great force while still keeping the arm relatively close in to the body. The added bonus is that if the very tip of the elbow is used, there is the usually result of a great deal of pressure delivered by a very small striking area, namely concentration of force. We use the ridge of our hand, otherwise known as the knife-hand strike. And, if worse comes to worse, we use our heads. The solid bone of the forehead encountering the delicate cartilage of the nose at a high velocity will result in a wicked crunch, a wickeder explosion of blood, and a douchebag punk screaming in pain." Dave again finished by adding the touches that Mindy had included in her earlier lectures. He spared a glance over at her sparingly before putting his eyes back on the road.

Mindy grinned at him and clapped her gloved hands in applause. "Learned much, you fucking have. Sooner or later, you know, you're going to look at yourself and realize you're totally the real fucking thing." Mindy said approvingly.

"I'm not there yet."

"No. But you're getting there. You're fucking getting there." Mindy said as they came off the bridge into Manhattan.

At the corner of West Houston and Sullivan Street, Dave and Mindy regarded the Shrine Church of Saint Anthony of Padua. It was a rather familiar sight to them, as they hid in the shadows in the parking lot. It had been used as a shooting location, in The Godfather Part II, for the Feast of Saint Rocco scene. Dave, before becoming Kick-Ass, had watched the film for entertainment. Mindy had viewed it as a way to look into how the mob thought. Both were wondering just how to approach one of the Friars –since its construction in 1888 was staffed by the Franciscan Friars- without unduly alarming anyone or bringing undue attention to themselves.

Their problem appeared to resolve itself when a Friar emerged from the church and began to walk across to the rectory. Dave nodded at Mindy, this was their chance. They dashed from the shadows and caught up to the priest.

"Excuse me…Father?" Dave intoned in best Adam West impersonation. The Friar jumped in surprise and turned around to address who he expected to be a parishioner. He did a double-take as he recognized the individuals in front of him.

"Wow, Kick-Ass…and Hit-Girl? Well, I must say, you're not who I was expecting. Well, I guess I need to ask, is there anything I can…help you with my friends?" The priest said, feeling somewhat awkward. At the very least, he'd have something interesting to tell his confreres at breakfast tomorrow.

"Yes…Father…I believe you can. Do you recognize this man?" Dave asked as he held up a photograph of Heffernan.

"Why yes…He's a parishioner here. Is there any, um, problem?"

"There…might…be. We are here…to…help solve it."

"What problem might that be?"

"You've heard about all the strangulations of men in Santa Claus suits?" Mindy piped in.

A strange look came over the priest's face. "Oh yes. I've heard of them. But, I'm afraid I cannot, and by that I mean I absolutely can NOT say anything more regarding Mr. Heffernan. I do apologize." The Franciscan said sincerely. Dave understood his meaning. Heffernan had obviously come to the priest in confession. The Friar, then, was now bound by the absolute Seal of the Confessional and could tell them nothing more.

"I understand Father." He sighed. He decided he could still bring up the matter of the trap they had in mind. He hoped that nothing about it would cause a conflict.

"I know these murders have been terrible. We're having problems with our Christmas block party because of them." Dave and Mindy's eyes both shot open at those words.

"What?" They chorused.

"Our annual Christmas block party looks like it might be a failure. The man who was all set to play Santa Claus quit suddenly and we can't find another one on short notice."

"When is the party?" Mindy asked intently

"It's this coming weekend, but this time of year we can't find anyone and frankly everyone is so scared of what's been happening nobody around here is too anxious to put the costume on. To be honest, I can't say as I blame them."

Dave and Mindy looked at each other and grinned with a subtle nod at one another. "Father…I think…you can go…ahead…and proceed…with planning…for this…event." Dave intoned in his Adam West impersonation.

"What about someone for Santa? That's always big hit with the children who come around for it."

"Don't worry about that. We'll provide the Santa –free of charge too. All we need is to be allowed to set up some things of our own beforehand." Mindy smiled at the priest. "And, I think we might be able to take care of a much bigger problem at the same time." She said with a knowing nod.

The Friar returned the grin and nodded back. "Alright, I'll trust your judgement on this matter. I wish you'd come around to this area more often. We've had several of my parishioners mugged in the last two weeks. They've reported it's a pair of hoodlums, one has knife and the other has a lead pipe. The police haven't even bothered trying to find either of them." The priest said as he noticed Kick-Ass and Hit-Girl were both trying to suppress smiles. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"Ah, I don't think those guys are going to be bothering anyone again around here for a while." Mindy said with a smirk

"Do I want to know the details?"

"I really don't think so."

"Well, that's good news at least. I am grateful for that. Oh, may I prevail on you for one last favour?"

"Certainly…Father." Dave said.

The Friar reached into a pocket of his robe and removed a cell phone. "I have several nieces and nephews. They're all huge fans of yours. Do you think that I could…?" He trailed off with mild embarrassment as he revealed he'd brought up his cell phone's camera.

Dave and Mindy looked at each other, then just shrugged and stepped over to a streetlamp where the Friar could take their picture more clearly. After all, it always helped to have the public on your side when you were a pair of masked manhunters.

Fifteen minutes later, Dave and Mindy were back in the Mistmobile on their home across the Williamsburg Bridge. Mindy was calling up a file on their iPhone. She turned over to Dave as he spoke.

"So, I'm guessing you and I were thinking the same thing as to who we should get for the street party Santa." Dave said with a grin.

"Damn straight. Has to be someone who we have some pull over and who's had his hands dirty enough that he won't fucking fall apart if the shit gets real. And for that, we have one Mr. Daniel Malone." She pointed to the file brought up on the iPhone. It showed a face that was familiar to her from the night they finally destroyed the D'Amico organization. The name listed was Daniel Aloysius Malone. He was listed as a part time cook at a restaurant in Hudson Heights. He apparently was also studying cooking and restaurant management, with an apparent goal of opening his own restaurant.

He was also, the only known survivor, aside from Chris D'Amico (aka Red Mist), of Frank D'Amico's organization. Mindy recognized him because he had been the door man that had allowed her, in her innocent school girl guise, to gain access to the D'Amico Building lobby. He'd been in process of pulling out his cell phone to allow her to call her 'mommy and daddy' when she pulled the semi-automatic pistol with that very large silencer and stuck in his mouth sideways. Needless to say, his night took a sharp turn downhill at that point. Mindy's first shot –which had taken out another of the goons on duty- had gone right through his cheek. After finishing off the other two goons Mindy had put another bullet into Malone –her father had taught her never to expose her back to a wounded foe; always finish them. Mindy thought she had, at the time. She later discovered that Malone had somehow survived the second shot by pure luck –she'd hit the cell phone he'd been in the process of removing from his pocket.

After getting out of the hospital for the bullet wound to his cheek, Daniel Aloysius Malone had apparently decided to make a few changes in his life. So far as Dave and Mindy could tell, he was working a legitimate job and was genuinely pursuing a career in the restaurant business. Well, Mindy had to admire the fact the guy was smart enough to realize that working for the mob might not be the wisest thing in a guy's life. On one level, she did wish him well in those future endeavours. On the other level, they needed someone who could put on a Santa outfit to bait their trap. Furthermore, it would be good if that person had enough experience with…stressful…job situations that he wouldn't fall apart if the shit hit the fan. Finally, it would be best if that person was someone they had some pull over. Luckily for them –and unluckily for Malone- nobody else knew of his involvement with the D'Amico mob. It was a sure bet that Malone didn't want people to find out this tasty little tidbit about his past. That gave Dave and Mindy a very great amount of pull over him.

Dave looked over at the picture on iPhone and grinned. "Well, I guess we'll go pay him a visit tomorrow. I hope he looks good in red." He snickered.

"Damn straight. I think it's time Daniel A. Malone did a bit of community service to pay off his debt to society." Mindy said with sneer as Dave turned the car off the bridge to begin the drive back to the storage garage. Mindy could scarcely contain her excitement. They had planned out the trap. Tomorrow, they would secure the bait. Then, in a matter of days, they would take down The Santa Claus Strangler.