The Descent

Chapter 4: Muscle Spasms

I told my dad everything he needed to know. I couldn't even begin to imagine the look on his face. The man who suspected everything and anything about me in his fatherhood fears was speechless over Mindy. Sure, I was the teenager who lost his mother, the superhero wannabe who was knocked down by a car, and I was nearly killed by Mindy herself, but I was never the kid with a mental case so severe that it would necessitate a near-total brain wipe. That was what Mindy was, and even my dad was way over his head. At least in this way, we were united ever closer. A common cause, like Batman and Robin.

"So no, no pink and purple paint for her room, dad." I said over the phone. To anybody, they were just colours, 2 shades of red. To the Mindy I knew, they were more. They were the theme for her Hit-Girl uniform, quite possibly her favourite colours. I've been to her old room at Marcus' house countless times, and her old room was painted in those colours, "we need a totally different colour. Even the doctor himself ordered it." Pink and purple brought a lot of memories up within me, Mindy's triumph and tragedies as Hit-Girl. If it could affect me so much, I knew it would be her Kryptonite, except with an added bonus of turning her into Evil Superman.

"Okay…" I could almost hear my dad thinking. I'd gotten to know him that well, "How about baby and sky blue?" Upon hearing his suggestion, it was my turn to be speechless, but in a good way. He still had it in him after all. After giving him my positive feedback, we were done, and he'd need to go back to work, "We'll talk more about this when I get back home, okay?"

When dad hung up I returned to Mindy's side, grabbed a chair and just sat there, just thinking, watching her. I couldn't bear to leave her alone – she had become so fragile, vulnerable. Yet, it was the only way, leaving Hit-Girl behind, and heralding in Mandy Lizewski. As I watched her sleep, she appeared so still that she looked deceased. I couldn't help but to press my ear up to her mouth, to hear and feel her breathe. She was really, really exhausted.

Later…

Darkness. Cold Darkness. "Dave? Where are you? I'm scared! I'm so scared!" I cried.

People screaming, shouting. "Dave!" I shouted, no one spoke to me. I was crying, but no one spoke to me.

BAM! An explosion rang out, I can't describe it – so loud!

"Dave!" I shouted again. I crawled into a hole. I'm so, very scared!

There were more explosions, many, many more. I couldn't see. My ears hurt so bad!

"Get the lighter!" Someone in the darkness shouted.

"It's got to be right over there, find the lighter!" Someone else shouted. I squeezed myself deeper into my hidey hole. I'm so scared! Sparks flying above! Tears on my face…

"I got it!" A very bad man shouted. I don't know why he's bad.

"NO!"

…

"TAKE COVER CHILD!" Explosions! They said they lit a fire, but it was still dark. I fell down, I kept falling. I don't know where the floor was anymore. So… Scared… Falling…

…

…

"NOW SWIIIIITCH TO KRYPTONIIIIIIIIIITE!" Pain so much pain so much pain…

…

…

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" No no no no no! Stop please please stop! Please please please…

…

…

"NOW GO TO ROBIIIIIIIIIIIIIN'S REVEEEEEEEENNNNNGE!"

…

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! " Please stop please stop please please please I can't see I can't see…

STOP!

…

Someone in the darkness shouted. I woke up with a jolt, and found myself tumbling down the chair I was sitting on. The high-pitched scream continued, and on the floor I writhed like a snake, turned so that I could see where it was coming from. By the time I saw that it was Mindy, she'd calmed down a little, or at least stopped screaming.

"Mi- Mandy! What happened!? Why are you.!?" I blurted out in panic as I held her, tried to calm her down. I never knew I had a father's instinct within me. For a while, all she did was to sob, cry into my shoulder. I still couldn't believe the girl I had in my arms, crying her eyes out after a nap, was Mindy Macready, or Hit-Girl, slayer of hundreds – but of course, I couldn't call her that anymore.

"I- I was having a… a…" She finally said something, although that didn't mean she stopped crying. For a minute or two, I was cooing her, trying to get her to calm down before I talk about my own concerns.

"Was it a nightmare? What was it about?" I completed her sentence and asked, and already, it felt like a gambit to do that, with Mindy's mental health as the chip on the table. Upon hearing my question, she turned on like a faucet again, tears and snot and all, but managed to keep herself under control – an achievement for Mindy during this darkest age of hers.

"I don't know. It was dark, it was-" The faucet in her turned on again, but it switched off soon after, "I-it was dark, I hear people sh-shouting, I can't understand."

"I can't remember what was happening- It was so dark…" Mindy continued to describe her nightmare. I couldn't understand heads or tails of what she was talking about. In the end, it seemed like one of those meaningless nightmares, not the kind that every protagonist in every movie and comic seem to have. She started crying again.

"It's okay, hey, don't think about it anymore…" I told her, trying my best to comfort her, "Go back to sleep…" I laid her back down on her bed, and begrudgingly, Mindy nodded. After she was still again, I stood up, gave myself a stretch and turned towards the window – bright light was still shining through. It couldn't have been more than a few hours of nap the both of us had taken. When I turned towards the door, I saw that dad was there, leaning against the doorframe, rubbing his forehead, "Dad?"

"Hey son. How is she?" He asked as he was walking over, looking at Mindy over my shoulder, his wrinkles visible under the strain of his worry.

"She's fine, just having a nightmare." I continued stretching, talking between words. My body felt stiffer than it was supposed to be, more fresh, "What time is it? Are you early from work?"

"Actually, dawn just broke. It's Tuesday, Dave." What he said next sent a shock down my spine, a fully charged defibrillator.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears – I'd slept through Monday. Was I really that tired? Had Mindy really affected me that much? Warped me right into the future? It was my initiation into the responsibilities of an elder brother, and it felt like… the Twilight Zone. At first, I was worried about school, but Mindy was the new first.

Together, we went to work in my room, tearing down posters, boxing away merchandises and figurines, packing up comic books by the stacks. My Kick-Ass uniform was consigned to a luggage case. I had a last look before I locked it away. It was my original design, plus dad's old security belt. Then there was the helmet and vest, which had a green and yellow paintjob, a gift from my father, and his brilliant way of revealing his secret knowledge of my activities as Kick-Ass. There were still scuffs and cut marks on it, some blood. Some of it belonged to Mindy, the rest was mine. It was the result of my last battle as Kick-Ass, the one when I finally subdued Mindy as Demoness, when her insanity had reached its peak. To this day, I couldn't believe I managed it, especially considering the hundreds who failed before me, including Grandmaster and Michael, including Marcus, Mindy's adoptive father, slain by Mindy in one of her episodes of insanity.

Everything was moved to the attic, to be locked away forever, or at least until Mindy was cured enough to cope. It was all for Mindy, even if it meant no more Fantastic 4s, X-Men or my choir of Batmen. All we had to do was to lock the ladder to the attic and forbid Mindy to go up, and she would be safe from their mental suggestions which, according to Doctor Paul's opinion, could bring about a relapse. Admittedly though, I had second thoughts about sticking my Kick-Ass stuff up there. Over the years, they'd grown to be an irremovable part of me.

Even as I was grieving over Mindy's continued insanity, being locked away in an asylum, I was still out on patrols, albeit very irregularly, and it wasn't for fighting crime either. Somehow, in some way, it helped, if only a little, to be out there walking the walk. It gave me the illusion of doing something. As crime rate was at an all-time low, what with the fall of the D'Amico empire for good due to Demoness' self-carved path of destruction, there wasn't a lot of action back then, just an odd purse-snatcher or flasher. Most of the requests coming through the internet were either issues brought out of proportions (like a break-up) or something illegal or criminal (such as a hit-man contract).

In the end, it was all for the best. Kick-Ass – no more.

An hour later…

When Mindy woke up again, it wasn't the next day on Wednesday, just an hour after she jumped from her nightmare. It makes sense, after all, how long could a kid sleep? Not to mention the nightmare. I knew I wouldn't really feel like tucking in after one, and I can't imagine being in her shoes, being confused, afraid, not even remembering who you were, being in a house you don't know with a guy you just met. Then throw in the nightmare after that.

When she woke up I had to take her to the bathroom – she'd yet to learn her way around home. For clothes, we couldn't give her the same ones she had back at Marcus'. Dad did some shopping after his shift ended, and bought a few sets of free-sized kiddy skirts and shirts.

"Know how to brush your teeth?" It sounded like a stupid question to ask, but with Mindy, I could never be too sure anymore. She couldn't even pronounce her own name right the previous morning. For the moment it came tumbling out of my mouth, I thought it would offend her.

"Yes…" But the good doctor had taken that out of her as well. I remembered his words well, 'With the right chemicals and procedures I managed to wipe away most, if not everything that was violent.' Somehow, I'd prefer her to snap back at me. 'You wanna know what I know? I sure know how to bust your teeth, prick!' Was somehow what I preferred. Crazy, I know.

"Okay. Great." It felt so awkward, but at least Mindy didn't know. In fact, I was actually worried she won't know what 'awkward' actually means, "Well, your clothes are over there, and here's your towel, and…" I went on ahead to switch on the faucet over the bathtub for her – shoot me for being overprotective, but if you think I am, you're so totally right. The faucet can't be beyond her, but it was just me being new to taking care of someone. Heck, I could barely even take care of myself, even as Kick-Ass, "Yell if you need anything."

I had scarcely left the bathroom when I heard a yell from inside. It was more like a scream, a little girl's cry of help for her big brother. Something else was freaking her out other than a nightmare. God is wrong this time! My mind was racing through the possibilities as I swung the door open. Mindy'd put on a towel just in time for me to avoid seeing her buck naked – and thank God for that, as I don't know what that might do to her, "Mandy, what's wrong!?" She was whining quite a bit even after I came in, and she was looking at her own arms, her fingers running down – I had answered my own question – her old wounds, which by now were thin white lines running all over her arms, right up to her shoulders and then further in, I wouldn't want to know how far in. They were somehow even lighter than her anaemic skin tone.

"What happened to me?" She was close to tears, but at least not there yet.

"Mandy, you were in a…" What? Surprisingly I hadn't thought of a fake origin story for her, and the doctor didn't give me any suggestions either. I tried to think of something, but the good stuff was eluding me just when I needed them. Not wanting to look suspicious, I went with the best one off the top of my head, "Bus accident."

The truth was far, far worse than that. The truth was something even a sane person such as me could barely take. Back in the day when Mindy could no longer cope with her real father's death and went crazy enough to grow a new dark self, this new dark self LOVES pain. If there was such a thing as a Cenobite, Demoness would be one of them.

"Is that why I can't… remember?" She asked – as Mandy, Mindy was far more curious, probably because she had so much to learn as opposed to her old self. I sighed, not for her, but for my predicament. I was never a compulsive liar, and most of my lies had something to do with Kick-Ass, you know, fighting crime and saving the world (or at least New York)?

"Y-yeah, that's why." My latest lie stung – I couldn't even tell her what had happened to her own body. I could only feel glad that she didn't have to know what I know, yet I didn't want to feel too comfortable. Somehow, she took it all in without even suspecting that I was lying. An innocent Mindy was the other thing I had to get used to, other than lying.

"Oh, Mindy…" I whispered to myself – I was getting wound up tight because of all this.

"Did you… say something, Dave..?" Mindy's voice caught me off-guard.

"What? Nothing! I didn't say anything!" She brought me back to reality, to the fact that I nearly slipped up. The next time I looked at her face, I was thankful that all I saw was confusion, bewilderment. Good, she didn't hear that, I thought guiltily, felt like a rat, "When you're done, come down and meet dad. He's been waiting for you."

She'd woke up just in time for me to introduce her to her new big daddy over a bowl of cereals. Except dad made something else, a special to welcome Mindy into the family. While he was busy setting up the dishes, I was waiting at the living room, always afraid that something else might happen.

When I heard her walking down the stairs, not exactly quiet and stealthy, she was cringing, hugging the far side of the stairs, as though afraid that an entire army of giant locusts was waiting for her. She was incredibly shy, and it took away the little smile I had mustered at the thought of my dad and her meeting. And by the time she was in my dad's gifts, she was a 180 degrees turn from Hit-Girl. I could barely recognise her. "Nervous?" Her face says it all, there was no need for words.

"How is dad like?" She whispered timidly as I joined her near the foot of the stairs. She was staying on it, as if the first floor was made of radioactive acid, "Will he… make me do a hundred push-ups every morning or… something?" It sounded like a residual memory if there ever was one, though she didn't look like she was used to a hundred push-ups. As I looked at her eyes, I could tell that she doesn't even know what she was saying.

"No, of course not! Why would you think that?" I remembered Doctor Paul's words. If there was a residual memory, I had to stamp it out, push it aside and replace it with something else. Until she 'gets over it', "C'mon, Mandy, you'll like him." And of course, there's lying 101, "Just like how you used to. You loved him, Mandy." If anything, it got her down the stairs. "Dad! Mandy's downstairs!"

We walked over to the kitchen. Mindy refused to budge until I hold hands with her, and even then, she was hiding behind me, poking her head out. I would have said 'used me as a meatshield', but that just doesn't work anymore. As we got into the kitchen, dad was just done setting the table. Orange juice and banana pancakes, a little singed but not much, the ideal suburban breakfast.

"Hey, little pal! How're you feeling?" My father surprised even me. He was a little more active than usual. I'd like to think that Mindy had really brought some life into the house just like how he said the family needed a new kid.

I could feel Mindy getting deeper behind me before stepping out again. "Erm… Better?" I could tell that he was scaring the new kid in the house with his enthusiasm a bit, but in the end, I didn't really do any better in the beginning. Plus, at this point, Mindy was afraid of everything, so there was never anything personal left.

"C'mon in! Here's your seat, make yourself comfortable!" Dad invited Mindy to the dining table, pulling her chair back for her, but I had to egg her on a few times, "Today's a special day! So I cooked up something special for our special little girl, Mandy!" I sat myself down opposite her on the table. She was looking at me for advice, cringing without knowing why she was cringing, confused (residual memory?). I gave her the 'roll with the program' look even though I could sympathise. My dad hadn't done pancakes for years. Alice Lizewski, my mom, used to do it for us every week, and my dad would usually help out. Ever since her death by aneurysm, it became a dead tradition. To have it out of the blue like this was weird even for me.

When dad was done washing up, I took up my fork and knife but he stopped me. Looking up, I could already see him wagging his finger, "Ah, ah, no, Dave. Prayer first." Speaking of dead traditions, there's another one. As dad was leading the prayer, I opened an eye and took a peek at Mindy, who looked entirely unnatural as she was clasping her hands in prayer. The poor thing was made entirely out of confusion. I had no doubt whatsoever that she had never done this before, not even back when Big Daddy was still alive and all was well. Forgiveness wasn't exactly in their bible.

The first thing that Mindy reached for was her glass of orange juice. She did look thirsty, among other things. "How was it? Good?" Dad asked after she took a timid sip. Mindy seemed unsure of what to say. She just turned and smiled at dad – it was a bigger smile though, "That's my girl." Dad's own smile was a fresh one. He hadn't done that for a while, not even with me. "I love you, Mandy." And he was already stroking her head like she was his very own. I hadn't the experience to comment on that. Maybe he did want a daughter SO bad, or maybe she'd become the thing his fatherhood needs ever since I checked out (largely) recently. Mandy, who was looking timidly down at the table, smiled meekly. She seemed to like everything so far.

Dad started cutting his pancake, took a bite out of his own creation. Mindy seemed overly obedient, and was waiting for him to do the honours, "Oh, it's better than I thought! Give it a try, Mandy."

Then Mindy took up her fork and knife from the table. At first, I was eating my own pancake and appreciating dad's masterpiece, but when I looked at her, I nearly spat them out had they not gone the other way down involuntarily, "Mandy, is your hand okay?" I asked, horrified. It didn't help that I nearly choked. I couldn't move. I was frozen, my own knife stuck in my own hand. Her knife-hand was visibly shaking, and my dad was sitting beside her. When she saw her own trembling hand, she looked shocked herself, and dropped the knife promptly. Didn't stop it from shaking, and that terrified her. I was nearly shitting my pants. Dad was on to it quick.

"Must be muscle spasms." Dad was off his seat quickly, massaging her left hand and arm. The trembling went away soon after, "Don't worry about it, sweet pea. Happens to everyone all the time, right Dave?" He looked at me, and I nodded affirmatively. Yeah sure it does, "Here, lemme cut your pancake up for you…"

After that episode with the killer hand, I've got to admit, when it was time to leave for school, I wasn't entirely willing to leave dad alone in the house with the girl who used to be Demoness.