Author's Note: This chapter marks Solitude breaking the 20,000 word barrier! Yippee! Big celebration! Sorry... Back to the story...
Two weeks later
Monday
The wait had been excruciating.
Finally we received the call and we met up with The Armourer, back at the garage, using the same procedure as before.
The Armourer threw open the back doors of his van, where two packs were visible. He pulled out and opened the first, green tinted, pack.
"OK, Kick-Ass. Try this on for size."
Dave pulled out his combat suit.
It was matte black with green and yellow highlights.
Both colours were subdued, the combat suit would be all but invisible at night.
The combat suit was in two basic sections: The under-suit which consisted of the composite material parts and the over-suit which made up the major carbon-fibre elements, finally, the mask, boots and gauntlets were added.
Keeping his Kick-Ass mask in place, Dave stripped and put the new under-suit on. It fit like a glove. A padded glove.
The elbow, shoulder, knee, thigh and groin carbon fibre elements were part of the under-suit. The grieves slid into place and locked to the knee sections. The boots locked onto the grieves. The outer-suit of carbon-fibre was put on over the head and locked together between the collar bones and below the sternum.
Dave then went behind the van to change masks.
The mask, like the under-suit, fit like a glove. The padding was light and comfortable. The mask had a carbon-fibre surround protecting the forehead and temples and had a wide strip running round behind the head. There were cut outs to allow him to hear without any problems. The carbon-fibre also ran down behind the eyes like side burns and protected the cheek bones.
An adjustable baton carrier was attached to the upper back. Dave clipped a holster to his left hip so he could grab the pistol with his right hand. He also clipped four equipment carriers to his lower back.
Dave came out from behind the van.
"Wow!" I said. "You really Kick-Ass!"
"Good to know!" Dave replied. "Your turn."
..._...
"OK, Hit Girl." The Armourer said, as he pulled out and opened the second, purple tinted, pack. "Try this."
I pulled out my combat suit.
This time it was matte black with purple highlights.
As with Dave's combat suit the colour was subdued and, again, the combat suit would be all, but invisible at night.
The combat suit was, like Dave's, in two sections. But this time, top and bottom sections.
Keeping my mask and wig in place, I stripped and pulled on the bottom section which came up to a point, just below my chest. They were tight, but very comfortable. I pulled on the top section, which overlapped the bottoms. The whole suit felt weird, it seemed to flow, as I bent and twisted. I thought it was cool. I pulled on the boots, they felt like a second skin. The gauntlets again, were like a second skin.
I went behind the van, as Dave had done, and swapped my mask and wig. It felt great, my hair fitted underneath without a problem, as the mask flexed easily and the padding was very comfortable. The combat suit scales were actually made up of carbon-fibre and a flexible composite material.
I clipped two holsters to my waist in front of my hips and a knife carrier to my left and right thighs. Four slim equipment carriers fitted around the back of my waist.
My existing cloak attached around the neck, to finish the suit off.
I walked out from behind the van and Dave said, "Wow! That's hot, Hit Girl!"
The Armourer smiled in a creepy way. I really did not like this guy.
Both suits allowed silent movements and we could both move without any restrictions.
"You do good work," I said, reluctantly.
I paid the man and he left. I was glad to see the back of him.
"OK, Dave. Happy?" I asked.
"Fuckin' A!" Dave responded. We stuffed our old costumes into the packs and left the garage.
Safehouse C
After taking a devious route back to the safehouse, we dumped the packs and checked out each other's new combat suit.
"You look so mean, Dave! Wow! Can I get my .44 Magnum out, again?" I asked.
"You can fuck right off, Mindy. I don't know why I allowed you to shoot me in the chest, let alone in the fucking back, bitch!" Dave grumbled.
"OK. Hit Me!" I said and expected Dave to hesitate, like he did before.
This time, though, Dave didn't hesitate.
I wasn't expecting that.
He span round, hard, and his right grieve hit me on my left thigh. The two pieces of carbon-fibre came together hard. I was pushed back, but it did not hurt as much as I thought it should. I spun around and Dave blocked my leg with his protected lower arm. The weird scales and the underlying material absorbed the blow.
We checked the carbon-fibre and scales, closely. No marks, no scratches, nothing!
We looked at each other. "These combat suits are fucking cool!" We both said together, and started laughing.
Mindy started to run around like a kid on Christmas morning. She grabbed two, purple gripped, pistols and shoved them into her holsters and started practicing drawing, dry firing and returning them back to the holsters. Mindy then inserted loaded magazines into the equipment carriers behind her back along with the other equipment she usually carried on her utility belt. I noticed she was carrying the 'final resort' syringe, but I didn't say anything. Six throwing knives were inserted into the relevant carriers, three per side. Once carrying everything she needed, she then started attacking the punch bag and drawing and loading her weapons.
Mindy could really move in the new combat suit and she looked really hot, doing it. The suit highlighted the curves on her petite frame.
I had decided, reluctantly, that I needed to be armed, if we were going after the serious criminals. I hated guns, but I would be stupid not to, at least, carry one. I examined the weapons lining the walls. Wow, what a choice! I selected an automatic pistol, at random and tested the weight and feel. I liked it.
"Glock 17, Gen4. Nice choice. 9-millimeter Parabellum. 17-round magazine capacity. I have 33-round magazines, too. The rail beneath the barrel can accept Tactical Lights and Tactical Laser Illuminators. I have both. I also have a suppressor for it, too," Mindy elaborated, as she came across the room.
"Little Miss Weapons Specialist!" I quipped. "I like the weight and feel."
Mindy grabbed three, seventeen round, Glock magazines and showed me how to clear the weapon and make it safe, strip the weapon, clean it and then reassemble it. Mindy then grabbed a box of 9-millimeter Parabellum and showed me how to load the magazines. One magazine was inserted into the pistol and the other two into carriers behind my back. Mindy also insisted I carry a Tactical Light, Tactical Laser Illuminator and a suppressor. All were light and storage space was not an issue.
Mindy then showed me how to draw and hold the weapon correctly, including the correct stance. She was a great teacher, patient and calm.
Mindy carried her usual pair of SIG SAUER P232 .380 pistols. Mindy explained that my pistol had better stopping power then her SIGs did. She went on to explain that she needed the smaller pistol to suit her smaller hands and because it was easier to control and in most cases the pistol was used to put a round into a man's head, after they were on the ground.
"We'll need to arrange some target practice for you," Mindy commented. "At least your foot is armoured so you won't hurt yourself!"
"Cocky, bitch!" I muttered.
It was getting late, so we got out of our new combat suits and went to bed, still feeling excited.
Mindy was a damn sight more excited!
I tried to help her calm down once in bed, although I might have just wound her up a bit more!