On the Run

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Morning came and went. Breakfast was eaten, and lunch quickly disappeared as well. Holy shit could that girl put away food! Then we went shopping and blew a bundle.

A bundle of money, I mean. We didn't blow anything else!

Or anyone!

Fuck.

By unspoken agreement, we didn't break the peace by directly discussing money. But she did let me pay for everything so I couldn't really complain. After it became clear that I wasn't treating her like some charity case and that I genuinely wanted to share what I had, she broke down and started asking for things. It started with the practical. New underwear was the first. She'd been embarrassed this morning to admit that she didn't have any when I'd gone into the bathroom this morning and found her sitting on the counter commando. Which was not something I wanted to see before my morning caffeine. Apparently some guys liked to rip them off of her and some just wanted to keep them. And, like sniff them or something. I mean, I know that guys are really kind of fucked up, but that didn't make any fucking sense and kind of gave me the wiggins. I decided not to ask for any other details and told her to pick out whatever she needed. She decided to stock up and bought a bunch. Both lace and practical, and all thongs, which looked extremely uncomfortable. Then some other outfits, some showing a lot more skin than I'd ever have dared, some normal. She got two pairs of shoes. One pair of sneakers for normal wear and a new pair of, as she put it so delicately, 'fuck me' pumps. Which for those of you not into girly shoes, are really tall spiky high heels. She had me try on a pair as well. I understood the name; they really pushed your boobs and your ass out. And for those of you who were curious, I didn't totter along trying to balance in them the first time I stood up. I'm Hit Girl, for fuck's sake. I do NOT have balance problems.

I didn't buy the pumps though. They just felt… wrong. Or at least, not me.

In the pharmacy section, I pretended not to notice when she negligently tossed a huge multi-pack of condoms into the cart. And that was really fricking tough to ignore because it was an obnoxious box with all of these strange words on it like 'lubricated', 'ribbed' and 'sensitive for her.' Again, I didn't want to know and so I didn't ask her any questions.

When she seemed sufficiently distracted by a display of cute jackets, I snuck over to the sporting goods section and started looking at guns. I managed to get one without a background check. It's amazing how effective pretending a couple of $1000 bills were $1 bills and assuring the guy behind the counter he was obviously mistaken when he tried to return them to me gets you past the background check bullshit. Well, maybe it's not so good. A lot of the fuckfaces that I have to kill probably get their guns the same way. Regardless, it was mission accomplished. I went and found Emily. And, yes, bought her the leather jacket she was standing there practically drooling over.

We dropped most of the stuff off at the hotel and then I told her I thought it would be nice to take a long ride. She looked a bit apprehensive but either she trusted me at this point or she just felt like she was in my debt because she didn't argue too strongly. I sealed the deal by pointing out that it would be a good opportunity to break in her jacket. We climbed on my bike and I guided us off to find someplace deserted. The more desolate things looked, the tighter she held onto me. By the end, she was about squeezing the breath out of me and I was almost giggling at how happy I knew she was going to be when she got her gift. Finally, I found a good place and parked the bike. We climbed off and I led her over near an abandoned building that would shade us from the worst of the hot sun.

"Umm, Mindy?" Her voice kind of quivered. "What are we doing out here?"

I smiled. "I've got something for you." I reached behind my back under my jacket and pulled out the small Sig 290 pistol that I'd picked out for her. "Surprise!" I crowed and held it out to her with a flourish. Her reaction was not what I'd been expecting. She screamed. And then ran. And then tripped, fell, and started slowly crawling away. I just kind of stared and tried to figure out what the fuck her problem was. Then I tried looking behind me in case there was someone there or something. There was nothing around that should have frightened her. Not even a rat.

"Emily?" I said softly. She just kept flailing on the ground. "Emily!" I said a bit more forcefully. Son of a bitch. I was not emotionally equipped to deal with little girl panic so I snapped. "Cut that the fuck out!" When she looked up at me and I had her attention, I took a deep breath. Then I tried to hide my irritation and look reassuring. Obviously I failed because her expression didn't change even a bit. I tried again. "It's a present!" Ah her blank look, I continued. "I thought maybe you could use a bit of defense in your line of, umm, work? Job? Profession? Shit. Yeah, let's go with profession. And, hey, look! The grip is pink!" I really expected excitement at that point and I still didn't get shit. Her face clearly showed that not much of what I was saying was making it through to her brain. "I bought bullets too." I said, hoping that maybe that was why she was so upset. She still didn't blink. Jesus. How much of a ninny was this chick?

"Ahh shit." I sighed. I walked over and sat down next to her. She tried to move away but I grabbed her ankle so she didn't manage to do more than wiggle around in the dirt.

"Who am I?" I asked her.

"Hi…Hi…. Hit Girl." She stammered.

"And what am I?" I continued.

She looked at me with confusion. "A vigilante?"

"Technically, correct. I prefer superhero, but let's not split hairs." Considering her obvious mood, I couldn't resist adding. "And we won't split anything else, either. OK. I'm one of the good guys. Good girls. Shit, you know what I mean. Do heroes shoot their friends?"

"Sometimes?" She managed. I gave her the stare of death. Then she began to laugh.

"Sorry about that. I was actually a bit startled at first but your reaction to it was too much fun not to play with. You couldn't even say the word 'hooker'. I mean seriously…. Job? Profession? Shit. Does that mean I get a retirement plan?" She managed to say past the giggles. Eventually she calmed down. "Sorry. I guess life hasn't really prepared me to expect presents so I'm not that good at receiving them. But, thank you." She held out her hand. I gave her the gun and just as I'd expected, she immediately pointed it at a nearby rock and pulled the trigger. It just clicked. She looked back at me disappointed. "Did I do it wrong? Is it broken?"

"No, stupid." I started to laugh too. "I haven't put any bullets in it yet. Plus, don't shoot at rocks. The bullet might ricochet." At her blank look, I explained. "Ricochet is when a bullet bounces off of something hard and might hit something else. Like you."

Shut up. The whole 'shot myself in the head thing hadn't happened yet, alright? Kind of prophetic though….

She looked at me with supreme puppy dog eyes. Then she held out her hand and said in a cute little baby voice. "Gimme bullets!"

It didn't take her long to get used to the kick and she had a tremendous time screaming "Bang!" or "Eat lead!" or "Die you motherfucker!" every single time she that took a shot. Her aim wasn't bad for a beginner and she took pretty well to the idea that until she really got some practice in, she should just imagine pointing her finger to aim.

I laughed until my sides hurt. I think that I needed that even more than I had the company the other night. It did a lot to dispel the last of the depressive funk I'd developed when I left the city. Maybe I didn't have Dave for now and maybe I couldn't go out and kick criminal butt without sending up a signal flare showing where I'd gone. But I had a friend.

We went out for Tai food afterwards and then went back to the room. After we'd collapsed into chairs, she looked over at me. "We need a bigger place. Better. Not so skeezy.

I nodded. "I tried, but I pretty much need to pay cash for everything if I don't want to get caught. And no place decent will accept that. Plus, really good places need references and I don't have any. Pretty much everyone I've ever worked with is dead or has a secret identity." I laughed. "I suppose the ghost of the Mother Russia could come back and tell them I did a good job killing her." I switched to a crappy Russian accent. "Hit Girl is good worker. Never give up. Is very sharp and precise. Needs to control her language though." We both giggled.

Emily chimed in. "Well, my customers aren't dead, but I don't think their testimonials would get us a good place either. At least, not one we'd want." Her voice went all low and manly. "Amazing girl, great blowjobs! 'Needs bigger tits but isn't afraid to use what she's got.'" We both lost it at that point and didn't manage to stop laughing until the person in the next room started banging on the wall. I just banged right back. This wasn't the kind of place where you wanted to be intimidating. Kind of like acting like a pussy in a prison yard. It was like begging to get shivved. We resolved to work on it tomorrow and decided to get some sleep.

I nosed around a few shady businesses while Emily made the rounds of her 'friends'. There were a couple of warehouse spaces where we could easily rent a few thousand square feet. That sounded ideal until I worked through all of the details. None of them were all that secure. Plus, they didn't have much in the way of bathroom facilities and I wasn't all that excited about the idea of peeing in a bucket. We were about to give up and accept living in a shitty motel room until Emily found Jordan.

Jordan was apparently some sort of do-gooder minister and had a good reputation on the street. He'd help girls like Emily find a nicer place to live and then help them get out of 'hooking'. Eventually, he'd even find them jobs in a new place where no one knew about their past. He showed Em postcards from some of the girls he'd guided into a new life. And even though he was all religious and shit, he didn't judge or condemn the girls for their actions. As far as he was concerned, it wasn't their fault that life had let them down. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone" was his motto. "And all of us have sinned."

He wouldn't help just anyone though so we were going to have to put some work into this. He was rather particular and you kind of had to interview with him. He said it was because he didn't want to use his limited resources on girls who weren't ready to change their lives. And he wanted to meet both of us so I would have to dress the part when we went to see him. We went back to the store and this time I bought the 'fuck me' pumps that I'd tried on last time. That and a tiny micro dress that barely covered my ass. It all looked too pretty though, so we went on YouTube and found a bunch of videos on how to 'age' costumes. We knew we needed to look pretty down and out for him to give us a shot. We ripped the hem a bit, put a couple of artful snags in my stockings, and added some 'suspicious' looking stains. Emily offered to find a guy to jack off on the dress so the stains would be real, but there was no way in hell I was going to wear something that some guy has spewed on. Emily already had appropriate clothing that was far more authentic than I was willing to think about so she was set We rounded out the look with some fake bruises done up with makeup. Emily normally had the real thing there too, but she'd been with me long enough that they'd all faded. We were ready to meet him.

Turned out all of our work was pretty much a waste of time. He didn't even glance at our clothes. I caught him checking out Emily's tits a few times, but, hey, minister or not, he was still a guy. I was a little disappointed that he didn't check out mine, but I'd declined to stuff my bra and I really didn't have all that much going on in the boob department.

That's kind of stupid, isn't it? Being disappointed in not being ogled? When I normally would be offended at someone staring? But I was. Life is weird that way sometimes.

Anyway, boob examinations aside, we met his criteria and he set us up in a small apartment in a building he managed. Or owned. He was a little vague on that point but I didn't push it because the place was cute and clean.

In hindsight, I probably should have pushed….