I haven't totally gotten used to living with Marcus yet. I've got my own room, which is nice, cause I know I couldn't survive living with him if I had to sleep on the couch in the living room. There's something about having a door that I can close and lock that makes me feel more like I'm at home in the safe house.
But I'm pretty sure the room is the exact same one I left it when I was five and went to live with daddy. It's even in the same condition as I left it. It's got the same twin bed with a lacy canopy, the Care Bear bedspread has been replaced with a plain pink one, but other than that it's the same. I pondered for a while why Marcus thought I'd rather have a pink one but figured that's better than the Care Bears.
What bothers me is the teddy bear wallpaper border circling the room. That's gonna be a bitch to fix. At least that's what daddy said, when I mentioned it, he even joked about it saying it's probably why Marcus never did anything with the room all these years and just let it sit like a shrine to my childhood. Him joking is a good thing. He actually laughed for real and I think that means he's getting better.
That and the fact that he's sent me off to train this afternoon instead of sit in the hospital with him. Gives a girl hope that maybe soon he'll be able to join me. At least I think this means he's not given up on us going out again if he's making me train.
I know it's probably still going to be a while before we can go out together though, he still can't get up on his own and I don't think he's really walking yet. I mean, I doubt that criminals will understand daddy going around with crutches or a walker. Plus there's the whole badass image thing we've got going on. But maybe daddy will let me go out on my own.
I hit, kicked, and flung sharp objects into the various training dummies, going through my training and thinking about daddy the whole time. It was hard not to when training usually had him standing there coaching me, and I kept hearing his voice barking out orders and imagining him dishing out congratulations and complements when I nailed a target with my new throwing knives.
I finished up my regular routine and thought about experimenting with some of the moves I'd seen in that movie I watched with Dave a while back, just to see if they were actually possible or if they were just crazy CGI effects. But I eventually decided against it because I didn't want to wind up hurting myself when I was alone, so I decided to do some chores around the safe house instead.
It had been a while since anyone had been in the place and I could sort of tell when I walked in the door since a weird smell was hanging around. I didn't think much of it at first though, pushing it off as the neighbors cooking weird ethnic food again but when I walked over towards the sink for a glass of water I realized that the smell was coming from there instead of down the hall.
I had to scrunch up my nose as I peered down the dark hole of the garbage disposal, knowing I couldn't see anything but still looking at it anyway, as if the offending smell would crawl out. Although if a cockroach did I doubt I would have bat an eye, daddy didn't exactly buy a posh loft for our safe house. I also noticed that there were still dirty dishes sitting in the sink that were growing psychedelic colors of mold on them at this point.
I bit the bullet and filled the sink up to wash them since there wasn't a dishwasher to throw them in so I could avoid the chore, but that was probably why they were piled into the sink in the first place.
Thankfully that task didn't take too long and I set them out to dry on a towel as I walked back where the weapons were. I took a good long look around realizing just how long it had been since most of them had gotten a good clean and lube so I picked some off the wall and sat down at daddy's workbench to get to work on them.
In truth, I didn't feel like going back to the hospital yet. Or at all really. It was nice that daddy was awake most of the time now and was able to talk and joke with me but for some reason it was kind of boring now.
I thought about it as I dismantled one of our H&K machine guns. Earlier in the day I'd just chalked it up to being sick of the hospital and not being able to be out with daddy like we usually were. Like how he'd be here training with me instead of sitting around watching Days of Our Lives in a dress that had his ass hanging out the back.
But as I ran the cleaning rod through the barrel another thought popped in my head that maybe I was just getting bored with daddy in general. I mean, I pretty much have heard all of his bad puns and jokes and it's not like we even have anything to talk about.
After letting it slip that I'd run out of weapons in the D'Amico penthouse and having to rely on Dave to save me, daddy ran me through the ringer, pressing for all the nitty-gritty details of how we got in, how I killed each guy, and what mistakes I made that lead to Frank flinging me into his fucking desk and wiping out pretty much any of the fight I had left.
I also realized, as I made sure to scrub clean the bolt hold, that pretty much all that daddy and I talked about was related to our superhero identities. Even if we were having downtime and were just bullshitting we only talked about comics or fighting styles or action movies.
Maybe I wanted to talk about something else. And maybe Dave was the reason.
I'd never had anyone else to talk to before. I mean, of course I'd talked to other people, I wasn't a total social leper. But I've never had real conversations with people. If I had to talk with someone I was always pretending to be someone else, be it the guy at the corner market when I went to buy more milk, or the old lady downstairs that always wanted to talk to me about her cats, I was playing a part: the sweet, bubbly little girl. None of those people knew that really I was a cold-blooded killer.
Dave's the first person I've had real conversations with, the first that I've been vulnerable with. And not just because I had to rely on him helping me kill Frank.
I actually admitted to him that he's my first friend I've ever had. Why I did that I have no clue. For some reason I just let all the thoughts a normal person would keep to themselves, flow on out when I'm with him. I just say things and then realize how stupid it was to say that. Dave probably thinks I'm the weirdest chick on the planet, telling him I've never had a friend before at twelve years old.
Plus when I'm with dad in the hospital, lately most of the time I sit around wondering when Dave will come around again. Although considering how the last time he came daddy went I doubt he's going to want to come back. Daddy sent me off to get 'ice cream' so he could cross-examine Dave on the events at the D'Amico penthouse and when I got back, after forgetting to ask Dave what kind of ice cream he wanted and mentally smacking myself in the head for being such a weirdo around Dave again, I found Marcus in there yelling at daddy again saying: "Mindy makes one goddamned friend, and you're trying to scare him off!"
He looked about as shit-hit-his-pants scared as he did when daddy and I broke into his bedroom after I saved his ass after his dismal taser attempt. He probably thinks we're all mental.
I had put the Heckler Koch back together and started work on a few pistols next, still thinking about Dave. I wondered what he was doing right now. It was a Saturday, so maybe he was out with his other friends, chubby and the uber-geek. I wished he were with me instead and sighed, hunching over as I meticulously disassembled the SIG Sauer.
It occurred to me just then that I could have invited him to hang out with me. I hadn't done that yet. Every time we'd hung out so far had been him coming to visit me at the hospital or some other event that he'd orchestrated. And since the last time he'd been there he'd been verbally assaulted by my dad I don't know if he's willing to hang out there with me anymore.
But that could be easily changed. I could have him come help me make a dent in cleaning he vast collection of firearms daddy and I have amassed, and maybe order Chinese takeout. I walked over to the counter I'd laid my stuff on when I'd come in and picked up my phone, deciding on texting as the communication of choice.
M – "Hey Dildo Head, are you busy?"
I waited for Dave's reply as I sat back down at the bench, resuming my previous activity. It didn't take long for him to reply.
D – "Thanks…"
D – "Not really, Y?"
M – "I've got something you can help me with"
There was a longer pause this time between sending my text and receiving his response.
D – "Ok…"
D – "I feel like ur signing me up for something I'm not going to enjoy…"
M – "Already wimping out. Why am I not surprised…"
D – "Ok fine. What is it?"
M – "I'm at the safe house working on cleaning [the place up] the guns. [I was wondering if you wanted to join me] [I'm sure you remember] There's a fuck ton of them so if you help I'll buy you dinner."
I rewrote my proposition three or four times before I liked it enough to go ahead and send it. I finally found a balance of nonchalance and interest that I liked so I went with it. But after I set the phone down and went back to cleaning I second guessed myself wondering if maybe I shouldn't have put over text that I was going to have him clean guns with me. I shook my head though, thinking it was silly. Surely the single text would be so lost in others that it wouldn't matter. Besides when he got here I could delete the text myself.
If he came.
D -"Idk if I should do that. Or if I want to…"
Damn.
M - "You get into one little fight and want to hang up the cape. Pussy"
D – "That's not what I meant"
D – "I mean, I'm not going out as KA anymore either, but I just don't kno if I should be handling guns."
M – "You seemed to handle them just fine"
D – "But that was different"
M – "Why is that different? I'm not going to have you clean the bad boy you used in your grand entrance, just some handguns or some shit."
Mental note, Dave's phone is going to be wiped clean when I see him next.
D – "What if I accidentally shoot myself? Or you. Or one of your neighbors?"
M – "That's why I'M here, to teach you how to not shoot yourself while cleaning the gun, dumbass. Besides, it's really unlikely that would happen anyway."
D – "R u sure ur dad is ok with me being there?"
M – "Dave, just get over here and stop bitching like a drunk soccer mom"
There was a long pause in conversation here and I began to worry again that I'd gone too far in toying with him but finally I got a text back.
D – "Fine"
D – "Omw"
D – "Wait, was your place before or after the pizza place?"
D – "Nvm"
.
.
.
Once Dave finally got to the safe house (he had to ask for directions and got off two bus stops too far), I was able to let him in and start teaching him the ins and outs of gun maintenance.
I had to show him how to take out the magazine to make sure there wasn't any bullets inside before cleaning and how to oil down the outside as well as how to pull the slide back and press the safety so he could punch out the roll pin and get a good clean on the inside.
There was silence as we worked side-by-side dismantling and cleaning the guns. When I finished with my third, Dave was trying to figure out how to put his first gun back together. I rolled my eyes and bit my cheek to hold back a laugh as I got up and went to return my gun back to its spot on the wall. When I returned Dave was locking the final piece back in place and he grinned in satisfaction.
"So do you know if Marcus sent in paperwork for you to go to school yet?" He asked me as he reached for the next gun in the pile. I swatted his hand away from it, and grabbed it myself since it was a Ruger Mark III and was notoriously difficult to dismantle and I didn't want to confuse his feeble mind when he was already struggling.
He grabbed a different one instead and I grinned at him, letting him know it was okay for him to work on that one. "I think so," I answered, easily sliding the magazine out of the Ruger.
"Do you know which district you're going to go to? I mean, what address are you using? Cause it would be awesome if you got to go to the same school as me," Dave said clumsily trying to push the magazine out of his gun.
"I don't know, I didn't ask, but I'm sure Marcus is using his address since that's where daddy and I are going to be living for a while, I think," I told him.
"You'll be in sixth grade probably so we wouldn't have any classes together or anything, but still, you'd know at least one person when you start," He said, getting frustrated over getting the slide barrel out. "Not that you need help making friends or anything, just, it helps," he added.
I didn't respond and Dave continued talking. I looked out of the corner of my eye as I moved the cleaning rod into the barrel cleaning it out.
"I bet you'll have Mrs. Harrison, she's great to mess with. She's one of those teachers that has no control over the class and you can get her off topic so easy and wind up doing no work at all. It's great!" He said and I could hear the grin in his voice without looking at him.
"Well that doesn't really sound constructive. I mean, isn't the point of me going to school to learn shit?" I asked.
"Well, yeah, I guess. But that's not fun. Who wants to sit around and memorize how to say apple in Spanish? It's really only bearable because you go through that slow torture with your friends," He replied and I looked over to see him smirking at me.
I smiled and rolled my eyes at him. I felt a pulling at my stomach and checked the time, realizing we could probably stop for the night soon since it was getting close to dinner.
"Okay, the sooner you finish this pile, the sooner we get to eat dinner," I told him, leaning back in my chair and propping my feet up on the table.
"Wait, you're not going to help me? There's like five guns there, it's gonna take forever!" He whined and I smirked at him.
"There's only one way for you to really learn," I teased and crossed my arms, waiting for him to start.
Dave just pouted and grabbed the next gun, fumbling with it and the others, working in silence until he finished.
.
.
.
"Oh, and an order of the spicy tuna rolls, too," I told the waitress, handing her my menu. I turned back to Dave, "See I treat you nice, take you out to a fancy restaurant…" I said motioning around at the dark and dingy interior of the Chinese restaurant.
I pointed over at the cheesy water fountain near the front and continued, "I mean, look at the class, the sophistication,"
"The lack of silverware," Dave quickly interjected, speaking darkly but clearly just joking.
"Well why would you need silverware? It's a Chinese restaurant for fuck's sake," I retorted.
"I don't know, maybe so I can eat like a civilized human instead of sticking my head in the bowl like a wild animal," he teased, smiling.
"Well shit, when you put it like that," I said pausing and looking up at him from across the table. I slowly grinned, realizing the obvious. "You don't know how to eat with chopsticks, do you?"
Dave sighed and looked down at me patronizingly, "No, I prefer not to eat my food one grain of rice at a time, thank you,"
I couldn't help it I burst out laughing. A few of the other customers nearby turned to look at me but I didn't care. If I weren't laughing so hard I would have flipped them the bird, but it didn't matter.
"Wow, you really don't know how to use chopsticks," I replied after regaining composure enough to talk. I reached over the table and grabbed the napkin place setting that was at Dave's spot and took out the paper sleeve containing his chopsticks. I opened them up and split them before handing them to him.
"Here, I've gotta see this," I said rolling up the paper wrapper in a ball and laying it in the middle of the table. "Try and pick this up."
"Okay, fine," He said as he carefully tried placing his fingers around the chopstick for what seemed like an eternity before quickly reaching into the middle of the table with his other hand and picking up the paper with his thumb and forefinger.
My mouth dropped open in an 'O' of surprise and outrage. "What the fuck was that? That was cheating you asshole!" I shouted at him, trying to reach over and get the little paper ball from him but he moved his hand out of the way, making me climb up to reach for the thing.
I noticed that time the customers sitting behind Dave were turning around and looking at me darkly probably for swearing and I stopped swiping at Dave's arm to smile sweetly at them and actually flip them the bird. They turned around really quick after that.
"Give it back! You have to do it the right way, with the damn sticks this time!" I said as he finally lowered his arm enough that I could get the ball from him. I sat back down in my seat and glared at him, trying not to smile as I set the ball back on the table.
"Okay then, chopsticks master, why don't you do it?" He said, egging me on.
I grinned deviously, "Oh, you're on," I said and broke out my own chopsticks, breaking them and placing them in my hand easily and quickly before picking the ball up like it was nothing.
I looked up at Dave's face and he was looking at me in disbelief. "What black magic?... That's not fair though, your dad probably taught you to use chopsticks before he let you use a damn spoon!" He whined.
I laughed, "No, I'm just a real New Yorker. How can you not know how to use chopsticks?"
"Real New Yorker, my ass!" he defended himself. "How and why would you want to eat sushi? That's RAW fish!" He replied.
"Because it's awesome, that's why. Just show me your hands. Put the chopsticks in there. Do I have to teach you everything? Should I change your diaper too?" I teased.
Dave glared up at me as he was concentrated putting the chopsticks in his right hand.
"No, no, you don't hold it like that. The top one is like a pencil. That's the bottom one. It's goes down by your ring finger." I said trying to grab the sticks out of his hands. He moved his hand out of the way though so I swiped at thin air.
"Hey! I've got it, just give me a minute," He said still putting the sticks in the wrong places.
I took one of my chopsticks and stabbed him in the hand with it when he came close again.
"What the fuck?! Geez Mindy!" He said, dropping his sticks and holding his 'injured' hand.
"Just remember you're lucky I didn't have knives," I said darkly and grinned at him.
He pouted and tried again. We continued teasing each other until our food arrived and I'd somewhat successfully gotten Dave to use the chopsticks. At least he was able to eat more than one grain of rice at a time.
I opened the door and walked into the apartment. "Mindy?" I called out softly. It was dark and cold and for some reason the place felt ominous.
I didn't remember putting on my Kick Ass costume and panicked. Why did I wear it over here? Would she be mad for me walking in with it on for all her neighbors to see?
"Mindy? Are you here? I got your call, you said you wanted me," I called out and a slight echo reverberated. I knew this was the safe house, I knew that. But it was empty. There wasn't a mat on the floor or anything. I mean there was literally nothing on the floor. Nothing anywhere. It was just concrete walls and floors.
"Mindy?" I called out again starting to get freaked out. I heard a slam behind me and turned around to see the door I'd just come through slam shut. I rushed over to it and tried opening it but it wouldn't budge.
"Mindy?" I called again but now my voice revealed how scared I was. I felt my heart pounding and I squeezed my eyes shut.
I'm dreaming. This is another nightmare.
Suddenly all the walls around me started dissolving, and the world felt like it was turning upside down. I felt warmer and a faint shadow stood in front of me.
"You shouldn't have come here," He said in a deep voice and put a gun to my head, pulling the trigger.
I screamed and sat upright in bed. I touched my head and felt like I was swimming but knew that I'd just woken up from another nightmare. I regained my composure and tried to slow my breathing and heart rate.
I knew that voice. And even though he was just a shadow I knew it was Mindy's dad that had shot me in the head.
"Dave? What's going on? Are you okay?" I turned to see light spilling in from the hallway and my dad standing there with a baseball bat in his hands.
"God, dad," I said, my voice cracking. "It's fine I just… It was a nightmare," I said slowly the image of the shadow holding a gun to my head coming back and focusing, clearing up to look just like Big Daddy.
"A nightmare? What kind of nightmare has you waking up screaming?" Dad asked me, letting his arms go limp and letting the bat swing by his side.
"It was nothing… It was… It was just about the mugging. I'm fine," I told him searching for an excuse other than the truth.
"Oh," He said softly and moved to come in and have a real talk with me. I held my hands up, not wanting him to bother.
"I'm fine dad, it's fine, it's just a dream, it doesn't mean anything, go back to bed. I'm sorry I woke you up," I said trying to push him out of the room.
He gave up and went back to bed, leaving me alone in the dark again.
The mugging? Why did I tell him it was about that? I could have said the clown from IT was after me.
Why did I say it was about the mugging?
I know, it's been forever. And I'm sorry. But look! I did something!
Anyway, I know this has been a long time coming but I had issues with this and switched things up and there's just a lot more to the story than you probably want to know. So this is what it is and I'm glad I finally got a chapter up.
I hope that during the text conversation it's clear that the items in brackets are what Mindy drafted to send but wound up deleting and writing over. Also I had to try and find out what the parts of the gun are called and I'm sorry it it's wrong but if it its... Google let me down lol.
I hope you guys like the chapter, it's back in Mindy POV (for the most part) and it's got Dave and Mindy just palling around so I think it's a good one. I know nothing's really happening yet, but stuff will happen eventually (it's one of the reasons I had trouble with the chapter...).
Let me know what you guys think! Leave me reviews, I live for the little suckers! ;)
