The Descent

Chapter 3: Reborn

We were walking down the hospital again. A tiny part of me was glad that this would be the last time, and that I won't be going through the low and high security areas into maximum security, but the rest of my brain was a battlefield pounded to dust by heroes and villains.

"The effect of the retrograde amnesia I induced in her had to be widespread, thorough." The doctor continued as we were walking through the endless, white corridor, making me wish for amnesia myself. The more I hear the more fucked up I feel, "This father of hers you wrote about did quite a number on her. More than half of her short life had to be axed away, but of course, don't worry. That is an oversimplified explanation."

Inside, I was wishing for him to just stop, to just pause for a second, that the complex explanation would absolutely kill me, but as Mindy's friend, or as I'd like to think, family, I knew I had to take it, one wallop at a time. Somehow, it was even worse than all that beating I took from those streetfights I got involved in as Kick-Ass. It was more insidious, screwing my insides left and right.

"Her range of expression will still be similar. She will retain most of her vocabulary and speech skills. Her motor skills are more or less intact… With the right chemicals and procedures I managed to wipe away most, if not everything that was violent." The doctor said, and my confidence in a happy ending was dwindled into a midget shorter than Mindy.

"Similar? More or less?" Rhetorical questions aside, I didn't like the way the doctor puts it.

"Well, she might stumble on her own words and feet once in a while, but don't worry, yeah? It's not permanent. Think of it as the hurdles a normal kid would have to cross before establishing her personality. The neurochemicals I gave her and the dosage were strictly controlled, but collateral damage cannot be avoided." The doctor elaborated. Upon hearing more about the science fiction nightmare Mindy was put through, I had to stop and lean on the wall. My morning cereal mixed in with acid could be felt coming up my gullet, so I had to push it back down and put a hand over my mouth in case some of it decides to pour out.

"What else do I have to worry about?" I said, and couldn't help but to feel tired and lethargic, even this early in the day. I couldn't help the cynicism in what I say. It was overwhelming right from the start, and now it was like the Golden Horde Hellboy had to face.

"As I have iterated before, keep her away from any physical activity even resembling what she used to do as Hitgirl and Demoness. While she was under my care, I've forbidden her from physical exercises." The doctor continued.

"So, what, do I lock her up in her room for the rest of her life?" The sarcasm can't be helped either. I was falling beyond the point of no return, and it didn't make me a very happy man. This wasn't normal, even after all I'd seen, and just 2 years ago, real life superhero costumes weren't even normal. I was falling too fast, "Mindy would have been better off dead."

"No, by God, no." Somehow, the doctor, after everything he had done, sounded a little shocked. I looked at him again, and he looked confident. The only saving grace was that he looked sympathetic, concerned. I was expecting him to fall into the disinterested physician category, "Some jogging and aerobic exercise would be fine, and whatever other exercises girls do to keep fit and their figure good. Just no martial arts, no extreme sports, nothing of what you people would term as 'hardcore'." This time, I kept silent, I kept falling.

"Mentally, I believe she's lost about a year or two of basic development, but with some hard work I'm sure she could catch up. From what I gathered all these months, she's very intelligent, just that her intelligence was used in some… unconventional ways." I almost retched. So not only have you turned her into a klutz and a babble-mouth, I mentally criticized him sharply, you dumbed her down!? The old Mindy would have preferred a bullet to the brain.

When I was ready to walk down the same whitish, spotless corridor again, we did so in silence, and I was stewing in all the new shit the Doctor had thrown in me. My anxiety was about to go supercritical. Slowly but steadily, the low security checkpoint came into view around the next bend. I could easily hear my own heartbeat, and I wasn't sure if it was even beating the right way anymore. I was more worried about Mindy's health than my own.

"A final word of advice, Dave." It was as if the doctor decided that the million bombs he dropped on me wasn't enough. I knew he was doing his job, doing the right thing, that it was good for me to listen, but there was just too much of a good thing. I had to psyche myself up into listening, "When I say 'stir her clear from all that nonsense that drove her down to my Institute', I mean right down to the specifics. I don't even want her to like the same colours anymore, am I clear? This is important for Mindy's recovery, do you understand?" I nodded, again. It was all I could do. I was completely done over by him. I felt brainwashed myself.

After clearing the checkpoint, we came into the same patient lounge area, the same place where the more docile patients were kept. There were patients milling about, playing card games, reading, watching televisions or zoning out, supervised by orderlies. My stomach twisted again, the way Mindy would twist my arm back if she wants to subdue me. I was hoping to see her there, but none of the patients were even remotely her size. It was reminiscent of the many times I had gone through the low-security zone without seeing Mindy. My overactive Kick-Ass sense told me she had somehow tricked Dr. Paul and escaped. The next few steps were difficult as I fought back both the anxiety of seeing 'Mandy' and the irrational fear of a sudden Demoness ambush. But as the lounge came completely into view…

Mindy had sunken into a couch in a corner just out of my sight a moment ago, accompanied by a single, somewhat scrawny bespectacled orderly, which was a very good sign. She was wearing a white dress with a red ribbon wrapped around her waist, a pair of schoolgirl shoes with high socks. Her hair was tied into a pair of pigtails, tied together by red ribbons, not unlike the kind she wore to infiltrate the D'Amico headquarters, back when we had Frank to deal with. Upon entering that line of thought, I had to push it the hell out. I was already fucking terrified enough.

She was a little pale, almost like she was anaemic, and she was still as thin as the last time I saw her – she really hadn't been exercising. The Mindy I knew was never muscular like a weightlifter, but she was well-toned. Now, she looked… vulnerable, like some Victorian princess, two things I would never have associated with the Mindy I knew. She didn't even have a suitcase with her – I figured the doctor had confiscated everything that came with her into the Institute, for fear that they would trigger any lingering old memories or emotions.

Then she turned to me, regarded me with a blank, innocent stare. I could clearly see confusion and misery in her eyes, though by this time she was probably confused at what she was confused and miserable about. I turned to the doctor, unsure of what to do, but the doctor beckoned me on. I understood his gesture after a moment.

For a moment though, if you could get past all that, she looked like she had been reborn, what with the white dress and the bright morning sunlight shining in to illuminate her blond hair. For the moment, I tried to focus on that – that she was better off now than before.

I walked forward to Mindy, bent down so that I could look eye-to-eye with her on the same level. For some reason, she shrunk away from me, hugging the far side of the couch, intimidated. Intimidated! Mindy! Another word I wouldn't have associated with her. Back before Demoness tried to kill me, a legion of mobsters weren't shit to her. Now it seemed as if everyone in the patient's lounge were demons from hell to her.

"Hey girl, it's me…" I opened with the only thing I could think of, a reiteration of the last things I said to her before she tried to kill me with a red crayon the last time. I was never good at saying hellos and goodbyes.

"Who… are you?" Mindy said, her voice quivering and ignorant. I was no longer the most anxious person in the room anymore. She looked at me with unrecognising eyes, as if it was the first time she'd seen me. It occurred to me that a Disney princess would have been in a better position than her.

"I'm Dave Lizewski. I'm… your older brother." I lied, again. I tried to keep a straight face. I had no choice now, as her mental health was in the balance. For a moment, through that thick haze of exhaustion apparent in her eyes, I saw a sparkle of curiosity. It felt almost too easy to read her, but I could tell she was convinced. The Mindy I knew would have seen through my lies immediately.

"Dave… Lizooski." She repeated, a little off the mark. Babble-mouth! You turned her into a babble-mouth, doc! I kept a straight face. It was an important moment, but I was torn apart, tearing up inside. Once upon a time, she was a witty, funny girl who would throw a good line or two even in the face of crackhead gangsters.

"Then what's my name? Doctor Paul said you know my name…" The only consolation I had was that she was warming up to me a little. She seemed to have relaxed a bit, though she was still quite tense, and was still squeezing herself into a corner of the old one-seater couch she was sitting in. She seemed distressed, as though she knew she had lost something. I looked at the doctor, hoping to find some advice written in his face. He nodded. I went with it.

"Mandy. Your name is Mandy Lizewski, sweetie." I lied, again, keeping my straight face, this time trying my best to put on the loving elder brother hat.

"Mandy… Lizooski?" Again, she repeated unsuccessfully. She said the name slow, trying to take it in. From the way she was trying to enunciate the words, it was apparent that it was totally unfamiliar to her. She was a blank slate.

"Lizewski, sweetie." I corrected her as gently as possible, but all the same, she took it with a wince. One upon a time, she wouldn't even wince at a bullet.

"Li…zewski." She pronounced it slow, as if a kid trying to get used to moving her mouth. I nodded in approval, exaggerating my actions a bit so that she'd know damn well that she had gotten it. I smiled at her achievement. She smiled back like a sweet little innocent girl, which served to bruise my memory of Hit-Girl even more, "I don't remember…" At first, I was completely in the dark about what she meant, but I got it eventually. She knew she had lost quite a bit of her memories. I could see it in her agony.

"You'll be fine, Mandy. You'll remember." I lied, and couldn't stop my voice from cracking up. It was a name I'd have to get used to for the rest of my life. The doctor nodded in approval of my choices.

"Why are you crying?" Mindy asked in her now trademark innocent way, and when she did, I realised what I was doing, and did it more anyway. The dam had broken again. At least she was genuinely concerned.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just glad to see you." I said. At least this time, I got to be a little sincere. It was one of many reasons for my tears, but a little bit of honesty was better than nothing these days. It was a luxury I took for granted, and its stock price had just shot up. Mindy seemed to like it. She smiled a little.

"Well, great, good. Now that the two of you have met once again, I believe it's time to check out." The doctor came forward, relieving me. His voice woke me up a little from the surreal moment, and I wiped my sweat, stuck out my hand for her to take. At first, she was reluctant, even afraid, but eventually, she did, and she looked up at me with a sweet, sweet smile. Her new smile had become my new source of strength, even if it was creating a dissonance with her image, the image of a girl who used to be Hit-Girl.

Together, we proceeded to the checkpoint, but before we did, we stopped over at the pharmacy on the way, where I had to collect the medication for Mindy. The way Doctor Paul describes, they were supposed to help with depression, to help her to sleep. There was like some half a dozen types of pills for her.

"Here's a lollipop for the sweet girl!" One of the nurses so kindly dispensed. She passed it to me, and I passed it to Mindy, whose face lit up at the sight of the candy. For some reason, I couldn't bear to look at her like that. She was soon doing away the wrappers and sucking on it. In a white dress, red ribbon and schoolgirl shoes. A part of me was beginning to hope that Mindy was just acting.

Before we finally crossed the gates of Jameson Psychiatry Institute, the doctor pulled me aside once again, "Remember, don't give in to her questions, just keep doing this. If you have any questions, call my office. I will check in on her now and then."

We left in a cab, and some of the staff decided to do a proper farewell, waving Mindy goodbye as the taxi took off. Even the guy with the pirate patch was there. Mindy was waving back, acting like an angel, friendly to the orderlies, guards, nurses and doctors she used to terrorise in their duties. It was amazing that they still cared, but then again, it was understandable. Imagine a girl 11 years-old, coming into your asylum, an insane killer who swears and self-harm, breaking every single taboo in society. Won't you want to wish her a happy ending? She was a kid, a girl, and it wasn't her fault at all. It was the perfect sympathy combination.

On the way home, Mindy fell asleep soon after she finished her lollipop. She must be dead tired to have fallen asleep like that. When we got home, I had to carry her to the spare room we set aside for her, which was bare and almost untouched. I could remember how much she used to weigh, back when I had to carry her on a jetpack, back when she nearly died by Frank's hands. She was lighter, even with her change of equipment considered. She did grow a bit taller, but she was lighter.

Laying her down in bed, I pulled a bedsheet over her, made sure she was comfortable. When I was done with her, I pulled out my cellphone and went out of the room, dialling a number. The phone rang for a while before someone picked it up, "Hey, buddy ol' pal, what's up? How's Mindy?"

"Yeah… About her…"