Shit, shit, shit. I was not meant to kill that other guy. I watch him pull the gun out of his coat pocket, both relieved and shocked that it was the right guy. I wasn't sure I would be able to recognize him without the costume, but I had. Quickly, in fact. He's quite tall but weedy and nerdy looking, even more so than Dave. He has dark brown hair and eyes and he's wearing a long expensive looking coat. The joint in his mouth falls to the floor, following the lighter.

He's aiming at me. Not shooting. Not shooting. Still not shooting, what is his problem? Damn pussy. I jump lithely from the fence, and hold the gun steadily in his direction. 'You aren't going to shoot me. Actually, I don't think I've ever seen you shoot anyone, you pussy.' His face contorts and I know I said the right thing (or the wrong thing, depending on the reaction you're looking for).

'Shut up. You're just a little girl.' He snarls, raising the gun to point into my face. I snort. 'Yeah, a little girl who's killed way more people than you have without even batting an eye.' His eyes narrow and his grip tightens on the gun. Still not shooting. Isn't this fun?

I should kill him right now, why am I not doing it? I want to see his brains on the pavement. But I remember Marcus' words last week and realize why I'm not gutting this asshole like a pig and getting it over and done with.

'I'm proud of you, y'know Mindy. And I think your mom and dad would be too.' I had silently added that I didn't think my daddy would be proud of me sitting on my butt all day while that Mist shit was out there possibly plotting his payback and vengeance for his father. But I didn't say it. 'I'm happy that you've decided to stick with me and stop with the superhero stuff. I want to keep you here with me, safe. Not identify you in the morgue. Thank you, honey.' We'd done our handshake and he'd left. I remember feeling proud of myself too.

I look into this guy's eyes. He's angry and scared, he feels unprepared and uncertain. He's not going to kill me.

I'm not going to kill her. Unless of course she takes a shot at me. Judging by the wait, she's debating whether or not to do just that. But I want a huge, amazing, terrifying revenge and I want to nuke her and that green wetsuit cunt into oblivion where everyone can see it. I can't kill her now, like she's a stray dog being a nuisance outside my house.

Matt's right - I have to make it theatrical, I need drama and an audience. They can't get away with this.

I don't lower my gun, but I make up my mind.

He's made up his mind. So have I. This started out as a surveillance mission and it will end that way too. But I think I'll need a bit of insurance. I dart forward and press the gun into the kid's temple, hard. 'You even think about carrying out your little plan' I bluff shamelessly 'and you and all your little friends will go the same way as him.' I punctuate the last word by swiveling him around to face the dead cab driver. Keeping my gun pressed tightly to the side of the asshole's head, I yank another one from the small holster at my hip and plant a few dozen more bullets into the driver's lifeless corpse. His blood has stained the ground beneath him, forming a brownish puddle around his sides. The puddle grows and I watch for a second as the blood spills again, leaking rather than pumping from his stone dead organs.

I give old Misty a sideways glance to gauge his reaction. Not enough. I take this opportunity to suddenly twist his arms behind his back and while he struggles, I handcuff him with a certain sense of pride. One of the good things about Marcus' job is the equipment I could get if I wanted it.

He's still struggling and spewing utter bullshit about how someone will come looking for him and I won't get away with my life intact. It sounds like he's saying something about an army. Crazy asshole. Still (I note, with smug satisfaction but not surprise) my little bluff earlier actually seemed about right. I make a mental note to think about that later.

I drop Misty to the ground and stride over to the body at the end of the alley. Reaching down to my ankle, I pull at the leg of my costume and reveal a knife, not too shabby in length and sharpness. I hold it up as if examining it and let it gleam in the last of the quickly fading light, pretending to contemplate what to do with it.

He's riveted, seemingly against his will, when I shoot a glance at him. Marcus will be back in a couple of hours, I have to be quick. Just enough time to put a scare into him and I can be back at home by nine thirty.

Swiftly, I plunge the knife down and feel it sink into the guy's face. I don't look down at first, making practiced motions to cut the skin in as terrifying a pattern as I can muster. His eyes are fixed on my knife hand and I have to work hard to suppress a triumphant grin. I look down, fixing my mind on my knife. I'm hardened to the blood and gore and it really doesn't affect me much any more.

Finally, he groans and I look up to see him slump and close his eyes. Pussy! 'Alright.' He says. His voice is faint and he looks slightly sick - and I'm glad. I knew he'd already made up his mind not to kill me but I wanted to make sure he would never think I was 'just a little girl' again.

I'm back in a moment to open the cuffs. He stands up, a little shaky and I pick up my gun which has fallen by his side. Pointing at the body behind me but staring straight at Mist, I say sweetly 'I'm sure you know what to do with that, don't you Misty? Hardened army colonel like yourself.' I snigger, adjusting the mask that covers my eyes. He scowls but says nothing. 'Don't you?' I let my voice become even more sweet and innocent, knowing that would get a reaction out of him better than a punch in the face would.

'Yeah I know what to do with it. And I know what I'm going to do with you as soon as I get a hold of you again. That doesn't even begin to cover it.' He snarls, jerking his head at the corpse of the cab driver. I snort at him, sitting on the floor with a splash of blood over his cheek. I realize that it came from my knife and that I have to leave really soon.

'Yup, you would love to see me again wouldn't you, you cunt? You aren't going to. I'm smarter than that.' He starts to stand up to leave but I'm quicker and I'm up on the fence again in a second. I give him a disdainful look. 'See ya, Colonel.' I smirk at his angry face and drop over the side of the fence.

An army, I ask you. What a douche.

I hear her footsteps fade on the other side of the fence. I'm contemplating going after her and shooting her in the back. But instead, I decide abruptly to sit back down. Actually, I decide to sit when I'm already halfway down. The floor is cold and the sky is a lot darker than when I left Joe. That feels like a lifetime ago. I sit there for a moment looking at my hands. I could have killed her. But I didn't.

Is this really about my dad after all? Or is it some kind of sick, twisted plot to prove myself better than those two?

Suddenly I really want that abandoned joint and I search around for it wildly. My eyes alight on it, half hidden between the wall and the large metal bins. I scramble for it, half standing half sprawled on the floor. The lighter has been kicked near it and I light it sitting on my haunches, rather satisfied that its still rolled quite nicely.

I feel my mood mellow out a bit and straighten up fully. However, as I turn to leave the alley and get my ass to Amanda's place, I spy the taxi driver's body. My mood worsens very quickly.

Damn.

I do know how to get rid of him, as it happens. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to call the number I found in my dad's address book until Wetsuit Asshole and the Purple Shit were dead. But hey - nothing I can do.

Pulling my phone out and seeing that happily, it wasn't all smashed up, I dial the number from memory.

'You have reached CNZ Waste Disposal Service, it's eight fifty three pm.' the voice that issues from the phone is so cool and calm that at first I am not sure if it is an automated message or not.

'Uh yeah…hi…' I say, tentatively. There is a short pause and then the voice speaks again. 'Please state your name.'

'Christopher D'Amico.' I can hear briefly the sound of clacking computer keys. 'Hello, Mr. D'Amico. Very pleased to finally hear from you. Your father suggested you might call in the future. We are surprised to hear from you so soon.' Oh, so a real chick after all. Sweet. 'Is it a waste disposal service you require, Mr. D'Amico?' the emphasis is placed on waste disposal. I really hope this is the kind of service I'm looking for.. 'Yes.' I hoped again, fervently, that I sounded confident and in control.

'We are tracking your location, sir. Because it is a deserted area - and there were no witnesses I take it? - you may leave and our team will be there in a moment. Goodbye Mr. D'Amico.' The call ended.

Wow. Good service.

I edge closer to the body and stare at the blood stains. This kid is brutal. I travel my eyes quickly up to the guy's face. Shit. Really brutal.

Stepping over the body, I make the split second decision to drive the cab to Amanda's. I spin round and take a deep breath… which I don't actually need. The keys are clutched loosely in his hand, flung out towards me like he's handing them to me on a silver plate.

The meter is still running when I get into the car and I smash it with my gun, suddenly feeling tired. Where did I put that blunt?

In the mirror I can see a black van pull up. The side reads 'CNZ Waste Disposal'. That really was fast.

I start up the cab without looking back and drive to Amanda's in slightly dazed silence. I would take that extended ugly chick special now.