Evil is No Laughing Matter, Chapter Four

By: Guinevere Richardson

Rating:PG-13

Author's Notes: Wow, slow update. Sorry bout that. --

Chapter Four

"Harder!"

Risa gritted her teeth and punched him with all her strength. Unfortunately, her right arm was still much weaker than it used to be. But that fact just pushed her harder.

"Faster, Risa!"

Risa just barely managed to dodge his return, but she caught him by surprise when she actually landed him in the same motion.

"Ha!" Risa crowed in victor, grinning down at her sprawled trainer.

Her triumph was short lived, however, when he countered quickly by kicking her feet from under her, knocking her to the ground. He always made sure she was uninjured, but his blows still took the air from her. Enough for her to realize how much more she had to achieve.

"Never let your guard down, no matter how cocky you feel."

Risa glared up at her now-standing trainer. Brandon Michaels just raised an eyebrow at her. "Again?"

"You are overpaid." Was all Risa said, picking herself up and ignoring Brandon's outstretched hand.

Brandon just laughed. Risa sighed, knowing she couldn't really stay mad at him. He had been her personal trainer for too long, keeping her in shape. He had the build to be a hero himself–all muscle. Similar to Last Laugh, now that she thought about it. Maybe Brandon was a hero? The thought gave her courage. If he was, then she was definitely learning what she needed to know. Glancing back up at his face, she searched Brandon's bright green eyes. They betrayed nothing. Probably just as well; he didn't know that's why she was training so hard all of a sudden. Ever since her attack, she had become much more intensive during their workouts. She was sure he'd noticed, just didn't want to ask.

"Are you going to stand there all night? You still have a lot to learn, you know." He interrupted her thoughts as she mused there, staring off into space.

"Thanks for the reminder." Risa shook her head and sighed, stretching her shoulder. Brandon was just watching her, an expectant look on his face. She nodded decisively. "Again."

Thwack.

Scritch scritch scritch. Thwack!

Risa brought out a clean sheet of paper and started again, ignoring the growing mountain of crumpled paper balls across the room against the wall. She could draw decently, she was just not happy with anything she'd come up with yet. And time was running out. Sure, she had a long way to go with her training, but she didn't have forever. Which meant she'd have to get a decent costume soon in order to be able to practice with that monster of a gun.

Thwack!

She growled in frustration. At this rate the maid would wonder what in the world she had been up to. Then again, she was in Gerard's household. The maids were probably well accustomed to paper balls littering the floor. With a sigh Risa kicked her desk, scattering her colored pencils. Decisively she threw the black and white ones away. She was not going to be Lady Laugh! Although she had to admit to herself, every single one of her designs resembled his in some way. Why? Because he had saved her, maybe? What was it about a clown hero that drew her attention?

Risa stood, stretching. Her plan was to eventually catch up with Last Laugh and show him that she, too, could be a hero. Heroine, she corrected herself. No mistaking her gender in any of the outfits she'd concocted. What was with the tradition of spandex, anyway? Rubbing her temples, she glanced out the window, wishing inspiration would smack her. She needed a costume!

She stood at the window for some time, half waiting for something to truly come to her. When nothing did, she dejectedly turned back to her desk.

And there was inspiration waiting for her.

All her colored pencils had scattered across the desk and floor. Except two.

Carefully, she sat back down at her desk, inspecting the two colors. Hot pink and lime green. She almost shuddered at just the mention of the two colors in the same sentence; but when she actually set the two pencils beside each other, Risa liked the look.

Suddenly, she had it. With an almost insane grin, Risa began to sketch like mad. When she finished, she knew her future persona stared back at her.

She was thrilled. "Behold!" She cried. "It is I, Risa–" She stopped. Then her elation left her. It wasn't Risa drawn on that paper.

What in the world would she call herself?

"I simply cannot."

Risa blinked at the man in front of her. Dressed in an immaculate all-black suit, Serge, Icon Tailor genius, was shaking his head. "Why not? You can't tell me you don't do this sort of thing." She pointed at all the mannequins, each displaying a different comic-book look.

"Oh, yes I can tell you that." Serge pointed at the paper. "There are certain limits. And this..." He waved his hand dismissively. "Is well beyond those limits."

Risa glanced back down at her sketch. "How come? What needs changing?" She had no idea there were rules, for crying out loud.

"I refuse to make it. An atrocity like that blinding heroes and civilians alike, advertisement for my studio? I think not! Just the thought makes me want to laugh." Serge shook his head.

"That's just it! It's supposed to make you laugh." Risa jumped on that, hoping to convince him.

"I am sorry. No." Serge crossed his arms over his chest.

Risa sighed. "Could you give me some tips, then?"

"Tips? Yes." Serge took her paper, took out a red marker, and wrote something. "There."

Risa took back the paper. It had a huge red X across the drawing. "Hey!" Risa glared at Serge. She hadn't wanted to use her last card, but he was asking for it. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

"A hero wanting to be flashy would be my guess." Serge responded.

"Let's go somewhere private, shall we?" Risa grabbed him by the arm with surprising strength. Refusing to be dragged, Serge jerked away and lead the way as if it was his idea. They stopped when they came to an elegant office.

"Shut the door." Risa ordered.

Serge sighed and did so, then came to sit at his desk. "Listen. I know who you are. Who wouldn't?" He shook his head. "I do not want your father to close my shop. I know that is what you were going to say."

Risa sat down, her prepared argument going out the window. "I hate using that card, but you are just being an ass." Was all she said. She tossed the now ruined drawing onto Serge's desk.

Serge picked up the paper, musing at it. "I tell you this. You do me a favor, and I can do this costume for you." His reluctance was palpable, and he couldn't quite hide his grimace.

"If it's funding you want, funding you can get." Risa blew her bangs out of her eyes.

"No. Money is not an issue here. Heroes pay well enough." Serge half-smiled at the thought of his ridiculous prices. "No. I am being constantly harassed by a gang here."

Risa perked up. "You need help with thugs?"

"Yes. They call themselves the Tsoo. They don't really do anything to me or my shop, except demand rent for being in 'their' neighborhood." Serge looked at her. "If you can prove yourself to be hero enough to get them to leave me alone, then I make this for you." He waved the drawing at her. "And you can be Miss Giggle all you like."

Risa's eyes widened. "Oh, my god!" She shot to her feet. "Thank you!" And without another word she was gone.

Serge blinked at her hasty departure, then glanced back at the paper and groaned. Pink and green, of all combinations!

Risa crouched down on a roof across the street from Serge's store and prepared to wait. She was sure the Tsoo, whoever they were, would make a move when darkness descended. It was the way of hoodlums to do their deeds at night. For that, she was glad.

She felt ridiculous.

Since her costume was still in the works, she had had to come up with some other way to disguise herself for the time being. Otherwise, were she recognized, all hell would break loose with the tabloids. Her uncle might wave the silliness aside, but her father wouldn't. He wouldn't do much of anything except shake his head in disappointment as he usually did.

One of these days, he would look on her with pride. She had vowed it to herself, and when the Hellions had realigned her life, it was as good a sign as any. The time was come to fulfill her promise to herself.

Which was why she was here, on a roof, wearing all black, her hair in pigtails, with hastily painted pink and green letters on her chest that read GG. Giggle Girl. The name had come to her from Serge's insult of her costume, but she liked it. For some odd reason. She was beginning to think the bullet to her shoulder had somehow injured her brain as well. She hated clowns and bright colors. Now she represented both. She was nuts.

She glanced at the black handkerchief with two holes in it, sighed, and tied it over her eyes. With luck, her jiu-jitsu poses would be enough to make them run away. She could tell she was probably in over her head here. The way people walked down the streets, huddled into themselves and walking as fast as possible as if afraid that slowing down would get them shot. She could hear catcalls a little distance away, too. Something about tolls. Maybe she should just forget it and get someone else to make the costume for her.

She was about to get up and do just that when movement across the street caught her attention. Some wore all black, some all red, some all white. She couldn't really see what was going on, but she knew that they weren't at Icon to get tailored. Instead, it looked like they were trying to break in. A few knelt at the doors while the rest guarded them, causing the nearby pedestrians to flee in panic.

This must be them. Risa took a deep breath and started to load her rifle. What she wouldn't give for the AR-6300. She'd have to pray that all her practice would be enough. Setting up the shot, she tried to discern which one to take out first. They all looked alike, so maybe there was no leader. She decided to take the one that was in front of all the rest, dressed in black. He was the one constantly checking behind him and looking around.

Without a sound, she fired at him, hoping he was the leader and the rest would just run in terror. Her target fell to the ground, seemingly lifeless. To her horror she felt a smirk on her face, as if she was glad she had just killed someone. With a shrug she began to reload, while she heard their confused yells and orders. Done reloading, she turned to set up the shot again.

A man materialized in front of her, right out of thin air. He kicked her, sending the rifle out of her hands. This all happened before she could blink. And this man didn't look threatening. He wore Chinese robes and a straw coolie on his head. But his eyes would put fear in god.

Refusing to be intimidated, Risa got into a fighting position, hoping to intimidate him. To her shock and horror, the man merely smiled and got into his own pose.

A much, much higher and more dangerous level of jiu-jitsu.

Realizing she had no hope against this man, she turned and ran for her gun. If all else fails, shoot the bastard, she thought to herself. Before she could reach it, though, the man materialized in front of her again.

"Teleportation!" Risa cried, snatching the gun before he could hit her again. She jumped back and aimed, hoping to get a shot before he moved again. No such luck.

"Damn it." Risa looked around, but couldn't see him anywhere. Hoping he had fled but knowing he most likely hadn't, she checked on Serge's store. There was no Tsoo around it anymore, but there was something else. "A bomb. Of course." Risa was screwed and she knew it. Cursing under her breath she hopped over the side of the building, only to be kicked in the back mid-air.

Hoping to grab the building instead of falling to her death, she dropped the gun and clutched uselessly at air. Then the ground came up to meet her, shooting pain from her shoulder up her arm. Risa jumped to her feet, refusing to die here. Luckily her gun had landed beside her. Without preamble she grabbed it and hoisted it, ignoring the agony in her right arm. She fired, and to her satisfaction the teleporting Tsoo fell off of the building himself and landed on the asphalt with a nice thud.

The sound of a sword being drawn behind her made her turn. She had forgotten about the others. They hadn't forgotten about her. But she didn't have time to reload and the pain in her arm was killing her.

They must have seen the pain in her eyes, for they inched forward to press her advantage. She changed her hold on the gun to use it as a fighting weapon instead, but the Tsoo would have none of it.

She had hit the ground and her world was black before she could say a word.