The Descent

Chapter 12: Hallowed be thy Name

18 June, 2011, Saturday

We went to the fair today. Daddy couldn't, so it was just me and Dave. It was fun! Carousels, horses, the games. Dave wouldn't let me take the rollercoaster though, not that I want to. I saw this boy puking after a ride. I really wish I could ride a bumper car though. It looks so much fun!

Dave and I had a talk after that. I could remember it very clearly. I am getting good at remembering things…

…

"Did you have fun, Mandy?" Dave asked. We were on our way out. I was holding his hand. I liked holding his hand. I didn't get to do that very often nowadays. He was having a hotdog, while I was eating cotton candy! It was delicious! It was a cold day, so I had to wear my blue jacket over my dress.

"Yes! Thank you so much, Dave! The horse was awesome!" I couldn't help but to exclaim when I remembered how I was holding on to dear life on the horse while a cowboy took it around the field. Horses were scary and beautiful at the same time. When I looked at him, I could tell that he wasn't as happy as I was. His smile was odd. He sounded a little serious.

"I'm glad you did." He replied. I didn't know what to think. He sounded… far away, even when he was next to me. I'm always so concerned about him. What was happening to him? He wasn't like this last Saturday.

"Dave, what's wrong? Why are you sad all the time?" I asked. I had to. I didn't care if he scolded me again. I'm worried about him. He was this way for days. We didn't talk as much, and I didn't see him as often.

"What makes you think I'm sad?" He denied and flashed a smile at me. It made me feel even worse. I actually felt… a little angry, "I'm not, Mandy."

It felt as if he didn't trust me. It felt like he was hiding something from me. I thought we were brother and sister – and brothers and sisters trust each other. I knew very well that not all siblings get along, but Dave and I were so close the first week I came back from hospital. It hurts inside when he started acting that way this week. "And I'm not stupid, Dave." I couldn't help but to say. It hurts inside and I needed to stay it.

"What? What did you say?" Dave looked at me with those wide eyes. He looked shocked. I regret saying that earlier. But it was still inside me. I felt… angry. I was angry. It was a feeling that didn't feel familiar, but I was angry. I stopped holding his hand and stopped walking. He didn't trust me. He wouldn't even tell me where he had been going at night, "Mandy, c'mon…" I crossed my arms, because I was cross.

"You're not the same anymore." I told him what I thought. I had so much to say, but I was angry. It felt like I was never angry before. Yet the feeling felt familiar. I wasn't just angry, "You're always away and even when you're with me, you… you…" I imagined a warm meal that became cold, or a fireplace that was put out. But I couldn't put it into the right words.

"I know, Mandy." I felt his hands on my shoulders. I liked it, but I was still cross, and so my arms were still crossed. I didn't want to look at him. It's like being angry made me that way, even if I don't understand it, "I'm sorry. Just that… When I look at you, I kept seeing the old you, you know? From before the… bus accident. You're right, I'm sad, and sometimes, it makes me mad too, at everything, sometimes at you. I don't know, I guess I just wish you didn't have to be this way."

I was even angrier when he said it. It grew inside me, this feeling I never had before. It felt like he was blaming me. It felt strongly like that, "You think I like being this way!? I hate having nightmares! I hate it when I can't remember things! I hate it! I hate myself! I hate you!" I shook his hands off my shoulder. People were looking at us, but I didn't care.

"Mandy…" Dave pleaded, but I didn't want to listen anymore.

"No! I don't ever want to speak to you again." I couldn't control myself, but when I said it all, it felt like the right way. I don't know why, but I regretted it at the same time, but I was even angrier, "Just take me back home."

"Mandy, c'mon…" Dave repeated himself. I didn't say a word, and so he stopped a cab and we rode it home. When we were in the cab, we were both in the back seat, but I kept as far away from him as possible. I didn't like him touching me anymore. I didn't say a word. It was quiet in the cab. I kept looking outside the car window, but somehow, I knew that Dave was always looking at me.

I… sulked in my room for the rest of the night. It started as a happy day, but ended that way. My family didn't feel like a family anymore. I didn't feel at home anymore in my room. But the longer I stayed in my room, the less angry I became, and the more I regretted everything I said.

When bedtime came, I regretted everything. I remembered the good times with my family, with Dave. I remembered that he took care of me. He taught me my name, how to say it. He brought me back home, put a Hello Kitty bandage on my knee when I fell down while jogging. He stopped the bullies.

I was a little afraid at first to go into his room. I couldn't remember where my idea for it was, but I pressed my ear against the wall, and I heard Dave in his bedroom. He sounded like he was crying. I was worried about him. I wanted Dave back.

So I went out of my room and knocked on his door. But when I did, there was no answer, and Dave didn't open the door. I wanted to give up then – they'd taught me not to open doors without anyone's consent. But when I pressed my ear against the door, I could definitely hear him crying. I couldn't take that. It made me sad too.

I opened the door. At first, I thought I was going to get scolded – I was always afraid of that. But Dave was lying down on his bed, and he was crying. I could see him shaking like me when I couldn't hold a knife. He hadn't changed his clothes since the fair. He hadn't showered, I know because I could smell it in the air.

"Dave?" I came up to him, around his bed, so that I could face him. Textbooks were scattered across the floor, some against the wall, some opened. It worried me even more. He was shaking and crying.

I sat down beside him. I didn't know what I was doing. Everything came to me from nowhere. I stroked his dark hair. It was greasy, but it didn't bother me. "I'm s-so sorry for everything." He said. I had never seen him like this before. I was usually the one crying and not making sense. "I sh- shouldn't have been that- that way."

Leaning forward, I kissed him in the cheek. It was oily, but I didn't care. He stopped shaking when I kissed him. "Oh Dave, I'm the one who should be sorry." I consoled him, and meant every word, "I'm sorry I was angry. I didn't mean it. I don't hate you. I just wanted to be with you more." I lied down beside him. It was drizzling outside, so it was colder inside. It was a little dark, because the lights were off, except for the table lamp near his bed. We stayed silent for a while.

"I have a… responsibility outside. It's very-" He was still sniffling, but he had stopped crying. I was glad I could calm him down, "-important. I'm helping people."

"Like how you're helping me?" I didn't really understand what he meant. What does he mean by helping people? Were there bullies outside of school? Were there people bullying others out in the city?

"Well, yeah, actually… yes." Dave said, still sniffling. I could understand better when he explained it to me that way. Dave was a good man. He helped me a lot – when I heard the other girls talking about their brothers, it felt like Dave was even helping me more than he should. Maybe he was too good to help just me?

"Can I come too?" I asked. I wanted to go wherever Dave was.

"No. I'm sorry, Mandy." He said, "It's dangerous out there. It's even worse than school. Like, the school's nothing – the people out there… they're willing to hurt each other over nothing. You're an 11-year-old girl, you can't help them…" I could hear him pause, taking breaths. It seemed hard for him to say that. "You should just let people help you instead."

He fell asleep soon afterwards. I slept next to him in his room. I had never done that before, and when I did, it felt peaceful, and safe. I don't remember having a nightmare. It was the first time.

…

19 June, 2011, Sunday

It's church day! It was somebody else saying a 'testimonial' on stage though, not Sal Bertolinni. It was a woman whose cancer stopped. I'm glad for her. She said that it happened after the pastor prayed for her. Maybe I should get the pastor to pray for me so that I could remember everything from before the bus accident. When I asked Dave and Dad about it, they told me that I shouldn't. Dave said that I was remembering things quickly, and that I shouldn't ask God for help.

But I don't think I'm remembering things quickly. I don't remember my life with Dave and Dad very well before the accident. I could only remember the things they told me.

I met Sal again after the service. He was sitting far away, so I couldn't see him until then. And when I tried looking around for him while the pastor was talking on stage, Dad stopped me and said that it was rude, so I stopped.

We didn't talk a lot. We said hi to each other and ask about what we did the previous day. I told him about the fair, and he told me that he'd been helping the sick and the poor. He's a nice guy, a lot like Dave.

A funny thing happened. Dave had only met him today, but they both went aside and spoke for a while. At first, I was a little sad that I didn't get to talk to Sal more, but I'm happy in the end. Dave and I had another friend together.

Dave took me out for a jog later in the afternoon. I could finish running a mile! But it was tiring! I couldn't breathe by the time I finished!

He said that I was doing well, that I looked a lot better than how I used to. He said I had more colour and energy, more like how I used to look. When we got home and I looked into the mirror, I saw that he was right. I have never really paid any attention to my reflection, but when I did, I was so different.

My hair's getting long. I remember getting a haircut before Dave visited me in hospital. When I asked Dave for a haircut, he said that I shouldn't get one, because I'd look more beautiful with longer hair.

…

Mindy was beginning to worry me. First, she'd developed an explosive temper that even the Mindy of before had never shown before. The only upside was she didn't remember her past self and start brutalising me. I still couldn't decide if the way she exploded was just a childish lack of control, as scary as it was, or a sign of her relapsing. I was hoping for the former. Dr Paul had asked me to use the sedative in case it was the latter, but I didn't want her back in an asylum. For the whole day, she's had me so worried and feeling lousy. I thought it was the end, that I'd brought about her relapse – the ordeal ended only when Mandy went out of her way to forgive me.

Secondly, she'd developed a worrying habit of sleeping with me in my room. Her reason? She said that she felt safe with me, and that I'd protect her from the nightmares. I'm inclined to believe her, considering that she hadn't woken up screaming with blood all over her face during the weekends. Other than what others might think if they found out, it gave me a huge privacy problem. I would have to be a real ninja every time I had to get out at night as Kick-Ass. I'd leave my house with my costume in a bag, go to a safe alley I knew to change up – but with Mindy in my room, I'd be risking her waking up and following me, finding out that I was Kick-Ass.

When dad told me that she went down to the basement despite me telling her not to, I knew that the risk was even bigger than I thought. So on Monday morning, I woke up much earlier than I was supposed to. I'd slept early to make sure I wouldn't oversleep. I'd gotten in bed alone, only to wake up with Mindy curled up beside me, using my shoulder as a pillow. It felt all wrong on multiple levels. Dad's paedophile jokes returned with a vengeance in my mind, then there was the idea of Mindy snoozing beside me – I still couldn't help but to think of her not as Mandy Lizewski, but Mindy Macready – Hit-Girl. And this little assassin was sleeping beside me, curled up, looking peaceful and happy rather than spouting profanities and frowning.

I tried to be stealthy. Gently, I replaced my shoulder with a pillow, and got changed as quietly as I can. I couldn't help but to feverishly keep an eye on her – it would royally suck if she woke up with me naked in my underpants. It was an episode of superman without his powers, but still trying to be superman. Even getting ready was a problem.

Surprisingly, I didn't set her off in any way. At least for the day. Going down to the basement where I'd moved my Kick-Ass gear, all stored in a luggage with a combination lock, I took the luggage and headed out. I'd decided to take all my Kick-Ass business elsewhere, and I'd decided on one of Mindy's closest safehouses, Safehouse F. Once upon a time, before Big Daddy was killed, it was so close and yet so far – it was right within the neighbourhood, about 15 minutes of hard pedalling to get to, just that I didn't know about it back then.

It was also the newest and most poorly stocked safehouse. It was obvious, being Safehouse F. It was located in a well-locked apartment room that looked like it was falling apart. The apartment itself seemed deserted. More than half the letterboxes had no names, and the floor the safehouse was on – the top floor naturally, had only a few names. It was ideal for the superhero business – fewer prying eyes. While it was leaking rainwater in the corridor, however, upon going into the safehouse, I found it well-maintained, if only a little dusty.

Walking in, there was a desk in the middle. A Mac computer was on it as usual. The walls had no guns. Instead, there was a picture of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl, in costumes. He was holding an assault rifle, what looked like an M4, while Hit-Girl was posing with a pair of pistols close to her face, pointing safely up, stylish. The bad ass family photo caught my attention for a good while, before I decided to move on and set my things down in the storeroom, which also happens to be where they kept their weapons. There weren't many, but their standard of 'weren't many' was about a couple dozen. In the storeroom, the floor was lined with ammo boxes while the shelves held pistols, rifles, shotguns, all manner of swords and blunt killers. They were collecting dust.

I was feeling down and out because of the family photo, so I decided to check out the rest of the apartment, oddly enough. It felt like I was self-destructive, destined for the mental hospital. Why else would I stay and get myself even more upset?

In the facilities owned by Big Daddy, there weren't exactly separate rooms. They were all together, performing one function, and that was to get him and Hit-Girl ready ASAP. The kitchen had no doors, and it wasn't just a kitchen. There were lockers and chairs in there. The lockers were huge, unlike the tall and thin kind found in school, or in the gym. All the better to store their gear and weapons.

The keys to the locker were easy to find – they were right in a drawer beneath a counter. Big Daddy must have either considered the safehouse impossible to find and breach, or unimportant if it was found.

Upon opening the lockers, I found their costumes inside along with a full loadout each. Everything was dusty, as if the apartment itself was trying hard to remind me that times had changed, and so did Mindy…

A purple bob cut wig hung at the top. I took it out, and immediately, I was sneezing because of the dust. I put it back accordingly. Next, I took out her purple tights, and couldn't help but to think that it would still fit Mindy in her current size. They were a little stiff with age, and still dusty, though not as much as the wig. A mere wash and dry would put it back into full working order, I couldn't help but to think. The gloves and boots too, stiff. The skirt was actually in very good condition. Like a national guardsman, Mindy could easily be out there in the streets within the hour – my mind wandered, but I stopped myself there. It seemed real in the moment, Mindy being back to who she was without the threat of the Demoness Complex relapsing, but in the end, it was pure fantasy… I returned her purple tights back on the rack inside.

After locking everything up, turning off all the lights in the apartment, I returned home. I was later than I was supposed to be, me being prone to remembering the past biting me in the ass. Dad and Mindy were already having breakfast at the kitchen. "Oh hiya, buddy. What were you up to? I was getting worried about you." Dad greeted as I came in through the living room.

"Nothing, I was up earlier than expected, so, uh, I cycled around." I lied with Dad's understanding and Mindy's gullibility in mind, though with Mindy's sudden explosion on Saturday, it felt like her gullibility had just as much an expiry date as her meekness.

"Maybe I could cycle with you next time!" Mandy offered, happy to see me, "I've been learning hard how to cycle. I could do it without the training wheels!" I was taken aback – she'd learnt how to cycle within the week. It was either she was extremely smart and talented, or that she'd remembered how to do so, which means she could be relapsing. I didn't want her in the asylum, so I preferred to think that it was just her wits or that it wasn't an indication of a relapse – although, face it, I could be delusional. But really, would you send your little sister back to an asylum?

Later…

Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday. Those were the days we were active, minus what Colonel Stars and Stripes term 'special operations'. It was the real deal. Being a superhero was no longer a flight of fantasy, especially for the newer guys like Marty, or 'Battleguy'. It'd become an obsession, our life. The Colonel was the man who tore it out of the pages of comic books and made it real, even if he didn't look like the comic book type.

The schedule was to meet up at the Justice Forever Headquarters at 8 those days for all kinds of things. Training, equipment maintenance and upgrade, and at this early stage, fixing up the headquarters itself.

"Combat experience. Let's go 'round the table, starting with you two." The Colonel was eyeing the Remembering Tommy duo just beside him.

"We don't fight, actually." The husband half said, shrugging, "We're just doing this for our boy."

"Well, there's this once we stood up to a child-beater. Does that count?" The wife added enthusiastically, "He was a huge man."

"Certainly. It takes courage, same as going down and dirty with a bunch." The Colonel said, and then waved a hand at the next superhero in line – Insectman.

"I don't have a whole lot of experience. I started this just 3 months ago." Insectman began slow. He looked weak and fragile with his thin and short frame, but the way he handles himself was admirable; he didn't play the part of the victim, nor show weakness, yet at the same time he wasn't boisterous, "I ran into these 2 muggers once, a black dude and a white dude, robbing this Latino office guy. I took a serious beating, but my tricks with my police batons got me through." Somehow, I couldn't help but to think of the 2 guys who kept mugging me while I was on my way home from school or the Atomics Café.

"Well done, Insectman. Nightbitch?" The Colonel continued turning the wheel. It was turning out to be an interesting story session.

"It was on one of my patrols. I saw a man beating up a woman outside a pub. She was drunk, I think. I decided to go in and have a talk with him." Nightbitch went on with her story, but it seemed a little harder to tell than Insectman's, "He decided that one woman in one night wasn't enough, but a decade of ballet taught me a thing or two about kicking. He had friends though. I can't really remember how I got out of that." She showed her modified pool cue to all of us, putting it on the table, "But it had something to do with this. I must have gotten it off a pool table. But I had to spend a few days in hospital."

"Nice job, looking out for women in their most vulnerable. We'll see what we can do about you avoiding injury. Battleguy?" The wheel keeps getting turned by the Colonel.

"Uh… I've just started out. I've got nothing." Marty said, this time remaining honest.

"At least you weren't stabbed and run down by a car." I tried my best to cushion his lack of experience.

"Well said, Kick-Ass. Don't worry, you'll get plenty of combat experience here in Justice Forever, I can vouch to that. Kick-Ass, you're up." Again, I had no idea where to begin. I was surrounded by new superheroes, inspired by me. I didn't want to come across as arrogant – that would be as super-unheroic as it could get. Yet at the same time, they needed to know how it was really like out there.

"Yeah well, urm… before I begin, I just want to say that I'm just like the rest of you when I started out, except even worst, probably. I nearly died the first time I engaged." I said – it had to be the right way. Yeah, that's the ticket, "Anyway, like I said" whoops, that might be a mistake there, "I tried taking on two car thieves, but I was stabbed and knocked down by a car. I have no idea if I even stopped them from carjacking. Then I went up against three street gangsters laying into one guy. I… uh…" No, don't mention anything about becoming viral, "I got hurt a little, but it was nothing compared to my first try."

"I was nearly killed when I took up an assignment to warn an ex-boyfriend to leave a girl alone. I couldn't do much. He was a drug dealer with like 5 guards with him. I shocked Rasul with my taser, that's about it. Big Daddy and Hit-Girl saved me." By now, everyone's eyes were on me, intent on sucking up every single word. It was jarring. Having Big-Daddy and Hit-Girl on my resume sure helped a lot with that, at the cost of a bit of my soul each time I say their name. Not to mention, I was hoping to scare them a bit, to get them on their guard, but my stories were having the opposite effect, "Then this Red Mist guy came along. I thought he was one of us. Turns out he was a plant." A hint of familiarity in the Colonel's eyes, then regret, "Big Daddy and Hit-Girl wanted to help us, but it was a story, a trap to get at all of us." I've gone into the black hole once again. The event horizon I felt like tearing my eyes out, like Sam Neil.

"You guys saw on TV what happened. Big Daddy died, Hit-Girl rescued me. I didn't do nothing. I got people killed." I couldn't even tell what was happening to me while I told my story once again. Marty had a hand on my shoulder, and that's saying a lot because he rarely does that. The last time was when my mother died, "Anyway, after that, we hit the D'Amico tower for Big Daddy, me and Hit-Girl. She killed a whole bunch of them. I took out 3, I think, plus Frank D'Amico and his son." It was the blackhole, the point of no return. Tear my eyes out!

"Then there was Demoness. I kept running into her." Because she wanted me dead, but oh no, she wanted me for dessert. Mindy, the same Mindy in my home had wanted to killed me for her daddy, "I fought her once on some skyscraper… Benson Skyscraper, yeah. But she let me go."

"Then I found her in some alleyway fighting the Grandmaster, which was where I met that swordsman guy. She ran away though." I continued the story, falling into the blackhole. Tear my eyes out! I thought someone had asked me a question, something about why Demoness would let me go, but I just continued, "Then one last time on top of the D'Amico Tower. Life came full circle, I suppose, no idea where I got it from. I had help, Grandmaster and Michael. Oh… Huh… And somewhere in between I stopped two men robbing a store. One of them had a gun. I was lucky I lived to take Demoness in."

"I guess that's what you guys will be getting down the road." I said, but it felt surreal all of a sudden. I wasn't even thinking anymore, or even looking at them, but it felt like I was getting them excited. Mission failed. "But like I said, I think I'm just some lousy guy trying to be a hero. You guys are better off."

"Hey, I feel you man." Doctor Gravity offered. I smiled at him offhandedly.

"You've seen lousy guys, Kick-Ass. I was one of them. You're not." The Colonel said. He had this way of comforting people – he didn't need to go out of his way to be mushy. He knew the right words. I was glad to be in Justice Forever just for this guy. Group Therapy was an unwritten part of the team, and I was glad it was, "For what it's worth, you are a hero. A Superhero, a real one. And a real superhero makes mistakes, just like every other person, just like me."

"Thanks. Thanks, Colonel." I said. It was the least I could do.

"Doctor Gravity?" The wheel went on turning. For a moment, I imagined Big Daddy and Hit-Girl here in Justice Forever. They would have a ton of stories to tell, to keep the meeting going for hours. They would have been… Awesome. The fantasy went dead very quickly. In reality, one of them was dead, and the other one might as well be.

"I've got nothing, except last Monday." Doctor Gravity said, in his usual enthusiastic self, "I was meeting Kick-Ass. We did a round together, then these two guys showed up and started beating Kick-Ass up. I was just out of the men's room, but I helped with one of them. They ran, but brought back a whole gang of them. Total of five, I think. Kick-Ass was… Kick-Ass! He took them all out, and I helped with one or two of them. Well done, Kick-Ass!" He slapped me in the shoulder. I smiled at him – at least I had some stamina for that. I was 18 plus, but I felt like 80.

Then it all came down to Colonel Stars and Stripes after we were all done. Long story short, he'd been doing his stuff ever since he was, like 16. He was a runner for a few years at first, before participating in guard duties, raids, ambushes, drive-bys, drug smuggling, you name it, he'd done it. He knew the criminal underground like the back of his hand. He wasn't always with the D'Amicos. He served Italian crime families mostly – race was a sensitive thing in the criminal world. But as Colonel Stars and Stripes, he was just starting out, and even then, he knew where exactly to look. He started small first, experimenting with terrorising a street gang to put them on the defensive so that they'd be too busy to do anything harmful or illegal. "A special operation's coming up, this I can promise you." He said when the meeting was over.

Wednesday was different. We started designing our logo, while Insectman was working on improving his batons. The Colonel got Remembering Tommy to work on finding themselves weapons, even if they were uncomfortable with it. The wife half had a handbag with a brick in it, while the Husband's golf club idea was rejected by the Colonel. They weren't much in a fight, but they were important for everything else, for the less violent things to come. We were shaping up our headquarters – each of us had our own chair now, with our own names written on it. We had a group photo – Remembering Tommy brought the camera.

This was when I found out that Nightbitch had a thing for me. She snuggled up close to me, and I put my arm around her, my experience with Katie Deauxma taught me that much. We had a lot in common – she'd lost her sister, and I'd lost Mindy, the old Mindy. I'd lost my mother, and she'd lost her parents. Okay, she'd lost more, but we all had our losses. I've never made varsity football, or got cast in a school play. Hell, I've never even made honour roll. But if I had, I gotta believe it would have felt a lot like this! Me and Marty, we were in the ultimate clique. It didn't matter that no one else knew. We knew, and that was enough. We felt like rock stars!

By Friday, we had our own team pledge, worked on and agreed upon by consensus of all seven of us. It felt like we'd become the original founding members. It was a pledge we would declare before heading out on patrol, and gladly, I said it everytime, just like everyone. I said it with gusto each time. It'd become a warcry:

When the cops could

No longer protect and serve,

Be warned, muggers,

Heads up, perv,

We got the strength,

We got the nerve,

To give those in need,

What they deserve!

Justice Forever!

But it wasn't always about finding criminals on the streets to arrest. For two hours, we ran a soup kitchen, providing food for the homeless. It was the Colonel's way to make up to those he stole from, but it was a wake-up call for me that things didn't have to always end in violence. Hit-Girl would not have approved, I thought uselessly, and I'd less likely find her handing out meals to the homeless in soup kitchens. But for the first time, useless thoughts had never felt better. With Justice Forever, there was a semblance of stability in my life for once.

That stability, however, didn't follow me home…