The Descent

Chapter 8: Old and New Friends

Today's Sunday is an unusual one, the first of its kind in a long, long time. We hadn't been to church for years, even long before my mother died. I remembered church as a kid, but not as a teenager. And as a common kid who read comic books and dress up as Spider-man, I hated church. I thought it was boring. Now, it was a time for me to be with my family, which now had Mindy in tow. With Mindy around, life was never boring, although sometimes it was too much of an excitement with her around. The church would be the safest place possible for Mindy's mental health, or at least that's the general knowledge.

Me and my dad were new, so we couldn't get into their groove as much. We met a few people, sat with them, but when it came to the praise and worship, we stood stock still, awkward. We were the traditional type, having been out of the league for too long. Mindy, on the other hand, was just shy, so she joined us in doing nothing. She was furthermore cowed by the active crowd.

The only moment I could really remember was the testimonial bit. For that, the pastor invited on stage a guy with an Italian name too complicated for me to remember. When he came on stage, he was in a navy blue suit with grey tie, but what was above his suit reminded me of a military guy with his seasoned face and well-trimmed and well combed hair that was only beginning to bald. It touched neither his forehead nor his ears, or even the back of his neck. He had some facial hair which was as grey as his hair. As he smiled, two of his teeth gleamed, not from hygiene habits, but because they were silver prosthetics. He looked like he'd seen quite a bit of action, but the last I heard, bullets won't just knock out your teeth when you were shot in the mouth. His teeth reminded me more of a brawler.

"Boy do I have a story for you guys." The military guy offered, his Italian accent there but quite light and barely noticeable. He was perpetually smiling, breaking the military impression he had on me. He was far too casual to be a veteran, but then again I was being shallow. "Now some of you may already know who I am, but for the benefit of the newcomers… I've been in here for a year now." He took a sip from a glass of water placed at the podium, as if what came next was a huge challenge, a difficult thing to say.

"I used to be lead a life of sinful crime, roughing people up, extorting for the devil's spawn on Earth. I took a few lives for him, that devil. Some good, some rotten, but God's children all the same, and the devil would get me out of jail to kill again." He seemed a little beefy under his suit. With that and his Italian accent, he reminded me of the stereotypical gangster in mafia movies. Looking around back to Mindy to check how this was treating her, I saw that she was relatively fine, if a little frightened by the bare mention of hurting and killing people – Military guy's choice of words were fine so far with nothing explicit. It gave me a little confidence for the church, "Then she came, this girl who might well be God's miracle. How else could the tower of babel fall like that? Many called her the-" Before he said the name, I rushed to cover Mindy's ears. She didn't object and I appreciated the trust she puts in me. We looked and smiled at each other.

"Demoness, and rightly so, because she'd sent many innocent souls to heaven, but at the same time, this… Divine Sword of God tore down the Tower of Babel, delivered justice where there was none." It was all sounding all too familiar, the only shocker being just how religious it could be made to sound, "And I was spared for some reason. Took a bullet to the chest, but I was spared."

Thunderous claps. Me and my family clapped along. I had plenty of good reasons to – his survival meant one less notch on Mindy's subconscious, or Demoness' swords. Not to mention, he was one less criminal to deal with, if he was really Born Again. And he was proof that there was still some good left in this world. He took another sip from his glass of water. I could see that he was suddenly conscious about his stomach.

"And here I am, after eating a ton of jell-o in hospital for a month." There were some giggles and laughter, "I knew I was born again even before I came here. I had lots of time to think about that. God has a plan for me. I know he does, because I've been having a little chat with him."

After the service…

While the crowd was dispersing, starting to talk amongst themselves, Dad was holding hands with Mindy, going up to the front, to the stage. I was walking beside her. We looked like a happy family, even if it was incomplete with my mom out of the picture. Picture this: Dad was in a brown suit and I was in a grey one, with Mindy standing between us, in a formal black dress and shoes with a cardigan over that.

We brought Mindy to the pastor, so she could ask her burning question, the one she'd been going non-stop about. When we were at the foot of the stage, Mindy grew a bit shy and in awe of the stage and the ceiling-high cross up front. We had to egg her on. As we were new, the pastor noticed us immediately after finishing a chat with a couple.

"New guests! Welcome, welcome indeed!" The pastor, a man in a black suit who was hardly wrinkled despite his age, was a highly animated man. He was spreading his arm, as if to hug the whole bunch of us, at one moment and then shaking our hands the next, "Pastor Harkman, at your service! What can I do you for?"

"Yeah, my daughter's got a question for you." Dad said, straight to the point. Sure, he was always that way with me, but I was never sure if he does the same to everybody. It seemed likely now that I've seen how he talked to the pastor.

"And who might you be, missy?" The pastor crouched down at the edge of his stage, and even then, he was still taller than Mindy.

"Man-Mandy Lizewski." Mindy replied nervously. It'd been a week and she had yet to beat her stutter. She's had me convinced that it was something that would take months, if not years, and that's not including the other problems Dr Paul had given her: Clumsiness and… dumbness, "May I ask you my question?"

"Sure, go right ahead, little miss!" The pastor said excitedly as he stroked her head affectionately, reminding me of the way Kindergarten teachers would talk to her flock. Mindy pursed her lips a bit, she looked like she'd been overwhelmed by his enthusiasm.

"W-well, I was praying yesterday. I think it was the 'Lord's Prayer'?" Mindy went on with her story. The pastor nodded attentively. Like I said: Kindergarten school teacher, "While I was saying the prayers, I saw a face. It had…" And again, just like yesterday, she closed her eyes so that she could envision the face again, "blonde hair and moustache, and a pair of big spectacles. Is he God?"

"That's a brilliant question, Mandy!" The pastor said animatedly, sounding like he was pleasantly surprised, "Well, you see, God could appear in many forms. Did he say anything?"

"No…" Mindy replied, shaking her head.

"What do you feel when you see his face?" At this, he seemed to have toned down a bit, either from tiredness or professionalism.

"I feel… I feel…" Mindy had to close her eyes again, to think. I had no idea if that had anything to do with Dr Paul, "Loved. Like he'll protect me, like Daddy and Dave!"

"Ah, then he could be God! But we'll have to wait and see what he says, Mandy, because there are other things in this world other than God." The pastor continued. Even without going to the church for, like, a decade, I knew what he was driving at, "Such as the devil. He's the bad guy. So if he says anything that feels wrong, or asks you to do something that didn't feel right, pray for the real God to appear, alright darling?"

"Yes, Pastor Harkman…" Mindy replied in her usual child's way. She seemed to be taking the devil business well, so I saw no reason to intervene. I'd known a long time ago that her illness wasn't that sensitive, otherwise she would be stuck in the closet. Doesn't stop me from being on edge though – It feels like I could actually lose weight from just worrying about her alone. After her burning question was answered, Mindy's mind began to wander, and she set her eyes on the knee rests just before the stage, before the cross, where people would kneel down and pray. The Italian guy who was giving his testimonial was already there, preparing to kneel down before the cross.

"Can I pray some more? I wanna see his face again!" She asked excitedly. The pastor looked thrilled, with his wide eyes and fatherly smile. I could relate – after all, there weren't many kids who professed to loving prayers and church. The only person of my age in this church I knew was myself. Marty and Todd weren't churchgoers themselves – their religion revolves around reading comics, attending comic cons and debating about the sexual orientation of their favourite heroes. Katie Deauxma… goes to the needle exchange, no church, and her friends stuck with her.

When Mindy scooted for a prayer, we didn't follow – I wanted to, to look out for her, but dad decided that she needed some quality time on her own, since she'd been with us 99% of the time.

At The Prayer Area…

I was excited! I knew from the bottom of my heart that I'd get to see the face again! God! So I skipped to where everyone else was praying, and I followed what they did. I knelt down and put my hands together. But I didn't know what to say.

I looked around at Dave and Daddy, but they were busy talking to the others in church. So I looked the other way, and there was this man who was on the stage earlier. He was just beside me, looking at the cross. He wasn't praying. I wanted to ask him for help, but I was afraid to. He looked big, and tough.

But I didn't need to! He saw that I was looking at him, and he turned to look down at me. At first, I was scared. I thought I did something wrong, but he just smiled down at me.

"Oh, new kid!" He said. He had a funny way of saying things. He didn't sound like the rest of us. He seemed happy to see me. Everyone was happy to see me, like Pastor Harkman. "Whatsamatter? You need help with something?"

I was a little afraid that anyone who heard would laugh at me, so I had to whisper it to him. He had to bend low to listen to me. I feel a little guilty for doing that. I whispered to him: "Could you teach me how to pray to God? I would like to see him again."

"Sure thing, kid." He didn't seem to mind at all. He seemed nice after that, and no longer mean looking. His teeth still looked a little scary though, "Now, just put your hands together. It's a sign of respect." I did it like he said. It was exciting! I'll get to see God again soon! "And look at the cross." So I looked at the cross.

"Now, just listen to my prayer, then you'll follow after me, okay kid?" I said okay, and he went on with his own prayer first. He closed his eyes and bowed his head a little, "Dear God, I come before you today to thank you for your guidance. Please bless me for what comes next, so that I may bring justice to New York, just as you brought justice down upon the D'Amico tower – twice now, I might add. Thank you and in your name, Amen."

I still couldn't understand what to do, then there was what he said… What he said… D'Amico Tower… D'Amico Tower… D'Amico Tower… Sounds like… Something I… I… Can't think… Can't think straight…

"Your turn, kid. Now, it's your prayer, sweetheart, so you get to say whatever you want." The nice big man said. What happened to me just now? I went back to listening to him, but I was still confused. He seemed to know that by just looking at me, "Just be humble and good okay? Remember, God is a person with feelings too." I couldn't follow what he was saying. What happened to me just now?

"C'mon, let me lead you in." The nice big man finally said. He touched my shoulder, and it stopped me from thinking about what happened just now. I followed what he said, "Dear God…"

"Dear God," I repeated after him. He started giving me clues. It was just like school, but more fun and friendly! I started praying with his help! "I want to thank you for saving me from the bus accident, and taking me back to my family. Thank you for giving me the best daddy in the world, and Dave, the best big brother in the world. I would be a happy girl if I get to see you again. Thank you, and in your name, Amen."

When I was done, I opened my eyes again. I saw that the nice, big man was looking at me in a sort of weird way. "You know, there seem to be something 'bout you, kid. You're kind of familiar." I stared at him in the eyes. I find it easier to look at, but I don't remember him. Why does everyone keep saying that? Principle Dixon said that, and now this man too. Yet Dave said that I had never met Mrs Dixon before.

"I- I don't know you, mister." I didn't know what to say. I looked away, because it was getting harder to look at him in the eyes.

"Nah, I think I'm just getting on in the years. I've seen a lot of kids in my time. Sorry, sweetheart." The nice, big man said. Mrs Dixon said that too, "My name's Sal Bertolinni by the way. It's nice to meet you." He held up his hand. It was huge! I was scared at first, but I didn't want to be rude. I shook his hand, and he was very gentle.

"I'm Mandy… Mandy Lizewski. Do you… want to be friends?" I can't help but to be a little shy and ashamed to ask at first, but I did. He was old and I was young, so it seems strange for us to be friends. But Daddy and Dave were like friends to me too, except they were also my family, so why can't Sal be my friend?

"I would love to, Mandy." He didn't wait to say yes. I'm so, so happy! I made another friend! He didn't stay for long though. I wish he would. After looking at his watch, he said, "Well, look at how the time runs! There's something I need to do, so I'll see you next week." He waved goodbye and left.

An Hour Later…

"They may wear costumes, but it isn't Halloween." The television in my room blared as I was sitting in bed, getting my suit off, "They're real life superheroes, and in the two years since ordinary citizens don capes and masks, the movement has started to spread." Upon hearing about superheroes, I was getting pumped.

"I became a superhero because of Kick-Ass." A very familiar man in a red-and-white costume said when the same reporter interviewed the man. It was Doctor Gravity, the superhero I've decided to meet and form a team. We were supposed to meet on Monday night. He looked so much more epic on the high-definition camera the WNRD used. As he swung his zero-g device towards the camera, I was actually fazing back a bit.

"Yeah, you just come home from work, grab your gear and go out on patrol." Another superhero, this time someone who didn't appear on the first page of Google, replied upon being asked about the routine of a superhero. I saw 'RJ' on his helmet, but I couldn't figure out what it stood for. He looked like he was equipped in bulletproof armour, but he had two hacksaws for weapons. It reminded me of Hacksaw, this huge guy decked in black from head to toe with a yellow lightning bolt for a logo that reminded me of Flash. His weapon of choice were hacksaws, predictably, and I wondered if RJ and Hacksaw were the same person in two different outfits, "I usually do 4 hours a shot, sometimes 6."

"Help us make the street safe." A couple of similarly dressed superheroes appeared on screen said when queried about what their objective was. Blue sports jacket with orange stripes down the shoulders and arms with matching mask that looked a size too huge as they don't fit snugly. They wore a T-shirt on the inside with a picture of a boy. They looked like a real couple, or even married.

I was pumped. The next time I suit up as Kick-Ass and take to the streets was tonight, but I decided to get out a little earlier than that, maybe in a few hours' time, go on a full 8 hours' patrol. With any luck I might get interviewed like the rest. There were people recognising me as the first and only Kick-Ass in the dead of night. With me going out in broad daylight and creating public awareness that Kick-Ass was out again, the few remaining criminals left in New York would be packing. To tell you the truth, I might be a little delusional and self-glorifying. I guess I could only be thankful that I didn't have a lot of time to continue down this road. There was something I needed to do.

I took me a few hours to get there, including the daylight I was burning to get very lost, but eventually, I was there. I've decided to visit an old friend, Aldan Bonitus, or the Grandmaster. I owe him at least that much after what he'd done for me. If it weren't for him, I would have been buried right beside my mother.

His home was a simple two-storey suburban heaven, white picket fences before white walls, freshly mowed lawn. I could see an open garage with a relatively modern car in it – at least Aldan was moving on with the times. Opening the gate to his lawn, I entered his property and pressed the door bell, trying to keep the nervous concoction in my stomach where it belongs. It was like waiting in a darkened cinema for the next X-Men sequel to start. The door swung open, and what stood before me wasn't anything I expected.

There was a look of recognition in his eyes, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. It wasn't surprising. After Mindy was safely committed into the Jameson Psychiatry Institute, we'd only met a few times, or maybe just twice, with my mask off. I gave him my name the last time I visited him in hospital. We lost contact after that – he must have gone about re-establishing his life. His daughter, Nevaeh, was all he talked about whenever I was with him, but I couldn't remember most of what he said to me – back then, all I could remember was Mindy and my own follies.

"I'm Dave Lizewski, or Kick-Ass." I offered, jogging his memory. He had far more wrinkles than I remembered, less buffed up, less muscular. He used to have a frickin' claymore with him all the time, but now it was replaced by a walking stick that he had to actually lean on at all times. A lot could change in one year – for a minute there, my mind went creative, hoping it won't be me next the following year.

"Ah yes, my old friend." He said as he smiled sheepishly, as if it took some effort to, "Please, come in, come in." He stood aside, making way for me to enter his home, which I did. Taking one slow step at a time, he lead me to his living room, a quaint old place with a wooden floor and green wallpaper, and invited me to sit down. I couldn't help but to eye him worryingly all the time, and wonder what the hell happened to the indomitable swordsman I used to know. It was like seeing Wolverine in a nursing home.

When we sat down, my eyes were still wide with surprise. It was impossible to get over his transformation. Aldan picked up on that the moment he settled down and put his stick aside. At least his mind did not age at the same rate, "I'm afraid age has caught up with me, Lizewski. Just like my father before me, and the heroes before our time, I'm afraid time is something my sword cannot shun." I didn't know what to say, not before, and certainly not after. My wide eyes were all I could communicate, so I let Aldan continue.

"The injuries Mindy inflicted upon my flesh cuts deep." He said. He certainly did not lose his way of speaking. "Her eastern blades had weakened my heart, not to mention reduce my food of choice down to porridges."

"Oh… God, Aldan." I finally uttered, the only thing that could come out of my mouth. I couldn't squeeze even a drop of something smart and rational out of my brain at the time when I needed it all. Surprisingly, the Grandmaster was the one being rational despite being the victim – not that he would consider himself one, if I know him well enough, "I'm so sorry you'd have to sacrifice so much to save Mindy."

"Nay, I should be the one to yield an apology." He turned it around, our topic of discussion giving him some strength, as if he was going back in time, to back before he was stabbed in the chest and guts, "I was no master of the handgun. I could have killed Mindy when I let fly upon her. It flutters my heart to this day."

"You didn't know it was Mindy, remember?" Reminiscing on the past with him, I remembered the scene as well as if it was just now – It was raining with a thunderstorm coming, standard Hollywood stuff with a not-so-standard situation. I thought Mindy, who was taking the identity of Demoness at the time, was about to end me with her swords when I heard gunshots instead. Opening my eyes, I saw her on the ground, with Aldan not so far away, hands on a smoking mafia enforcer's pistol, his blood forming a rough circle under him.

"Aye, I remember. I believed her to be my own daughter instead. It makes no difference, for I rue that day as the day I let fly upon a child, a mere girl who hadn't even understood the monthly pain of womanhood." His eyes were gazing at something before me, as if he was watching an invisible television ahead of me. He snapped out of it soon after, "And how is your charge, Mindy Macready? I trust that she's fine and well?" There was no doubt that I could believe him. It took me some time to notice, but he remembered Mindy's name better than mine. Upon her being mentioned though, I felt like Aldan himself, old and bruised, even if things were turning out alright.

"Man, where do I start?" I didn't know it, but I had a hand on my head, pulling, just pulling gently on my hair, as if it helps, "Doctor Paul wiped away everything that was Mindy Macready. How else could I say it? No more guns, no more swords, no more swearing, no more crimefighting, but worse of all, no more her. She left the institute a completely different girl. Mandy Lizewski. I see Mindy's body, but no more her." I rambled on, trying fucking hard not to wet his carpets in front of him. My grandest achievement of the day, a feat harder than manning up during Titanic.

"You… You have my sympathies, Lizewski." I could tell that he was reacting the same way I was when I first heard about it. Shock and awe, straddling on the tightrope of belief and disbelief.

"How's your daughter? What's her name again?" As I was fighting an emotional battle inside, I couldn't remember anything of much else.

"Nevaeh is well and good. I could tell from her eyes grief for her mother, but she smiles whenever she is by my side." Aldan was back to watching that invisible television before me again. He reminded me of a wise old sage from old Chinese movies, "I fear the day my body no longer holds, as there and then, her grief would be complete, and as she professed to me, so will her destruction."

Which was when I realised that I'd never seen his daughter before, not when I was with him in hospital, and not now – his daughter was probably out, with friends or something. I didn't feel like pressing the issue, what with the tone feeling worse than Titanic already.

I felt like shit even before I changed into my Kick-Ass costume in his bathroom and started my patrol.