The Descent

Chapter 15: Amen

From the back of a silver van, Colonel Stars and Stripes pushed open the doors, came out from his seat, epic in his camo hood, Eisenhower beside him. If he had been somebody else, I would have thought that he rehearsed this a few times over, but the Colonel was himself. He was epic right from the start. Insectman had been driving the van, and after making sure that the vehicle was inert, he stepped out of the driver seat. As we approached the Colonel, Nightbitch was just slinking in from a branch of the alley. I didn't expect her to – she'd done a good job at avoiding our lookout, and it seemed intentional. She was remarkable in her own way. Going down a ladder and then into the alley, Me and Marty met the rest of Justice Forever, well, most of it.

"Hey, where's the rest of the team?" I counted 5 of us. We were supposed to be 8. Immediately, I was jumping to conclusions, fearing the worst for the missing 3.

"Doctor Gravity's sick. Remembering Tommy had 'Book of Mormon' to catch." The Colonel said. He was the one coordinating everything, so he knew what everyone was up to. Things were better than I thought – My bruise-addled brain was doing its thing, imagining that the Mafia had gotten to them before they'd gotten to one of their money pots. As it turns out, military-grade communications practices had its disadvantages, especially when everything else wasn't military. "It's fine. Five of us should do." We gathered in a rough semi-circle.

"How did you say this guy made his money, sir? Prostitution?" Marty, unsure of himself (as usual) jumped at the chance to make a last minute query with the Colonel. Prostitution – I'd been reading up on it (with some sources coming from the Colonel), and it wasn't as liberal for women as I once thought. Some of them were forced, and when the Mafia's involved, they usually were. My stomach turned at the thought, as the thought of girls somehow led me back to Mindy. It made me sick and pissed at the same time, at the right time. I needed the energy.

"Not just girls. Kids." The Colonel added to his sources. It was even worse than I thought, and thinking about Mindy was inevitable. As she was in her current state of normal-ness and vulnerability, she could easily be kidnapped by a pimp and be forced to work in bed with some 10 clients a day, including himself (according to the statistics I found). I understood in a short time what could motivate parents and siblings to join the police, or the army. "Ships them in from villages back home. Boneheads in blue take a blind eye." And it keeps getting worse. Even with the D'Amico family gone, the police was still corrupted – the only thing left to my imagination was how they were paid off. Girls or money? I thought as we moved towards the place we would soon be raiding.

"How did you know he's here tonight?" I went right down to business – I wanted them dead, but I had to be content with their incarceration, being Kick-Ass. We were forming a straight line with the Colonel leading us in the middle, ready to take down the world of crime. I was pumped myself.

"Because Tuesday night is poker night. Same 5 low-lives every week. Men with that habit ain't hard to find." The Colonel explained. I could feel everyone around me getting nervous, even if it wasn't overwhelming yet.

"So what's the plan? Are we sneaking in?" I asked and the briefing continues.

"I thought we'd knock. More polite." The Colonel answered. It was a most unexpected answer. His tactic wasn't the most practical one in my mind – it reeked instead of the mob's modus operandi. It seemed like it was all he knew. It got everyone else started. Insectman and Nightbitch were looking at each other, recognising fear in each other. I did the same thing with Marty, who looked like he'd just been punched in the face.

Admittedly, I was little afraid myself – I was outnumbered before myself, but back then, I was either facing common street crooks or had the benefit of a jetpack and a pair of miniguns. It was the real deal now, as I'm going up against 5 probably hardened members of some mob who had probably killed before – and if the dice roll was more fortuitous, they'd be armed to the teeth too. The only upside was that I won't be going in alone, but without Hit-Girl and Big Daddy, or even the Grandmaster and Michael, it felt all the same. Now, I was going in with Marty, a stick insect, a ballet dancer and an old man… The Colonel stopped at a door made of steel, huge and foreboding.

"Stay frosty, team." He let down his hood with some energy behind it, revealing his greying hair, which was both discouraging and encouraging at the same time. "I used to eat punks like these for breakfast." Small comfort. You used to be younger and surrounded by killer friends… I thought as I tried to get ready, look my best and most intimidating. BONG BONG BONG, the Colonel knocked 3 times on the steel door with his palm, visibly beginning to lose his temper. Marty raised his shield, unnerved by what was to come, "Jehovah's witness!" He was noticeably ticked. A common peeve I noticed in him were paedophiles, women abusers, especially sexual abusers. It was part of the reason why 'pervs' were warned in the Justice Forever pledge. It was why he had Eisenhower, I suspected.

Silence. Everyone was shifting in their boots except for me and the Colonel. "I… I'm sorry, I just zoned out for a second." Marty broke the silence with equal awkwardness, "Did you just say that we're going up against 5 gangsters?" Already, there were murmurs inside. I was somehow reminded of the mines of Moria starting up.

"The bouncer makes 6-" The Colonel replied, but was interrupted by the steel door opening with a loud bang and creak. Out stepped this huge Asian troll, his hard footsteps too audible against the floor. He was almost a head taller than the Colonel, and more than a head taller than the rest of us. Marty shrunk away a bit. I stood my ground, my hands twitching for the tasers on my utility belt, "-And 3 quarters." The bouncer was staring down at the Colonel, a look of murder in his eyes. I was suddenly having doubts that my tasers could even put down such a beast like him. I would have to go in with my batons if anything happens.

"What the fuck do you want?" The bouncer asked, but it sounded like a rhetorical question, something to drive us away. His relative politeness compared to others was blind luck, but the Colonel had higher standards. I could tell by his fidget that he didn't like the profanity, but patience was also his virtue.

"Good evening, young man. We'd like a word with Jimmy Kim, if it's not too inconvenient." The Colonel opened in his usual pacifistic way. His style, not mine – I would have gone for something a little more bad ass, a witty line involving my hate for paedophiles. Everyone else but me were only one step away from quivering and running. If the Colonel falls, that might be the next few seconds. I kept my hands tense and ready for my tasers.

"Get the fuck out of here before I tear your head off, you old fuck." The bouncer growled, dispensing with what little politeness he had. I could tell even from the Colonel's back that he wasn't impressed.

"I'm sorry." The Colonel said, excusing himself from the bouncer for a moment. For a moment, I was actually afraid that even the Colonel himself was getting intimidated, but he wasn't running. I was surprised that the bouncer didn't make good on his intentions any earlier. "I just don't understand why people feel the need to use that kind of language." He explained as he turned slightly to us. He was casual, too casual, and soon I understood why.

The bouncer problem was over within seconds. After thrusting his fingers hard into the bouncer's neck, at some secret vulnerable spot I had never heard of before, the Colonel elbowed the bouncer in the head thrice, catching even him off guard. His axe handle was out before anyone knew it, its lower end connecting with the bouncer's privates, then the head, and to round things off, the Colonel shoved his boot into the bouncer's privates – he would be lucky if he retains them. The finishing move was a full 360 degrees swing into the head. It seemed impossible, but the bouncer fell backwards – he seemed indomitable before.

"Oh sweet Jesus…" Marty muttered, a little too loud for his own good. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or shocked. It seemed to be both. He regained the Colonel's attention.

"Battleguy, what did I tell you about taking the Lord's name in vain?" The Colonel warned Marty, a flash of murder in his eyes and his axe handle pointing threateningly at him. For this moment when the ex-mob enforcer was going back to violence once again, I could feel his old mafia side creeping back ever so slightly. Marty's shield was up. He was intimidated even though they were on the same team, even though the Colonel wasn't that near to him. His demonstration on the bouncer helped.

Marty apologised, but still didn't dare to lower his shield.

"Eisenhowever, at the ready." The Colonel ordered his dog before turning to the rest of us, "Insectman, I want you right behind me. Everybody else spread out, catch the strays."

"Oh, and try to have fun, otherwise… What's the point?" The Colonel smiled crookedly before heading in. We filed in to follow him through a corridor, going past red curtains, into the gangster's poker backroom. I could hear tokens and cards being placed before coming in. The smell of liquor and cigarette smoke was strong. It was the real deal, it was even in the air.

"Nice party! Anybody wanna dance!?" The Colonel opened again before waltzing up to the group of 5 Asian gangsters like they were nothing, smashing their table in, ruining their poker game as tokens, money and cards flew everywhere, beer and nachos flying up like some brief food fountain. I liked his opening this time. When I came in, I strafed to the side, pulling out my batons, Nightbitch following me to the right while Insectman followed the Colonel with Marty just behind. It started off well, the gangsters caught with their pants down, shocked that all their bets were off.

The Colonel's first target didn't even have time to react. He was still throwing his hands up in shock when he swung his axe handle into his stomach, then the lower end into his forehead. Headbutt, another swing of his axe handle into the side of his head.

The apparent leader, a short but broad Korean in a suit, pulled his pistol on the Colonel, but was saved by Nightbitch, who gave him a good whack in the arms with her pool cue, disarming him. Meanwhile, I was knocking down a stocky guy with long-hair and a leather jacket, but when I was done, I decided to chip in on the leader, putting all my fears for Mindy and hatred for pimps into him, kicking him over his poker table. Nightbitch returned the favour by putting her pool cue into the face of Stocky Long-Hair Guy. "Very good!" It was the Colonel praising me, but I was looking somewhere else.

"Behind you!" Behind his shoulders, A fat and bald Korean gangster in white, rushing at him with a knife. He had no chance once the Colonel knew. An axe handle to his balloon stomach and his back, and he was almost done. Tossing up a bottle of beer, the Colonel smashed it into the side of his face with his handle, and he was out cold. The Colonel felt invincible then. The stripe-haired gangster he beat up in the opening rushed at him again, but he was no match at all. When the Colonel was done beating him over again, he threw Mr Stripe-Hair over to Insectman, who gave him a few with his batons, before Marty rushed in and, in his usual way, rammed his shield down on the gangster to ensure he stays down.

"Nightbitch, behind you!" Marty shouted. She swung her pool cue a full 180 degrees, reaching behind her, her spin and balance impeccable. Stocky Long-Hair Guy was rushing at her with a glass bottle, but was knocked back to me like a pinball. I was back to beating him up again – baton in the belly, then the face, then a full twist of my body, a pair of batons to his chest. He held on stubbornly. He tried to punch Nightbitch, but his fist was painfully deflected by a certain black-tipped pool cue. The both of us slammed him into the poker table with our sticks. Glasses, tokens and money were flying all over the place as the table shook again, threatening to fall apart.

Jacket Man was behind Nightbitch, about to punch her in the back, but Marty was getting better. He rushed to block the punch even before I could do anything to help. When Jacket Man's fist bounced off his shield, I could hear an uncomfortable crunch. The gangster fell backwards, his face cringing in pain. Insectman came up behind Marty, kicking Jacket Man up against the wall, throwing him back against it when he tries to recover by hitting him over the head before tripping him with his baton and activating the shock pads on his police batons, shocking Jacket Man into submission, the noise reminding me of a defibrillator.

Even as the dusts were settling, we stood unscathed, handcuffing the Korean gangsters. The leader, the one in a suit, tried to run, but the Colonel tackled him, shoved the butt end of his axe handle into his mouth – poetic justice, "You know, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full. It's very ru-ude. C'mon!" Picking the leader up like a weightless doll, the Colonel threw him into a chair. Insectman worked to handcuff him to said chair.

"Who the hell are you?" Jimmy Kim still had the audacity to question the Colonel with profanity intact, even when he was defeated, even when his axe handle was stabbing him in the chest.

"We're the good guys." The Colonel said, a smile of victory on his face.

"No no no, you're the fucking dead guys." Jimmy retorted. Bad mistake, even I knew that. The smile on Colonel Stars and Stripes' face faded. He kicked Jimmy's chair into position, facing the red curtains where the corridor leading out was.

"Eisenhower, schpunks!" The dog's growl was painfully audible at first, before the animal came through the corridor, lunging across the room. A look of terror on Jimmy's face as he knew what's coming. The crunches when the dog bit down on his privates was painful even for the rest of us. Screams, screams that came only from the dying. I could tell what Jimmy would think – that he was better off dead. The pain from Eisenhower's jaws would have been a new human record.

To get Jimmy's attention back, the Colonel tapped his head, hard. I could even hear a 'conk'. "Where are the girls?" The interrogation had begun.

"C'mon man, I've got a heart problem." But Jimmy was stubborn as hell, only beginning to discover that the Colonel was a guy not to be messed with. Bad mistake.

"Oh yeah?" But I couldn't predict what came next. The Colonel pulled a gun on Jimmy Kim, from the back of his belt. "You want me to solve that for you?" The mouth of the gun barrel was a mere few inches from his face. If Jimmy wasn't terrified before, he would be now. We were all almost equally as shocked. I was thinking that the Colonel was losing it, getting sucked into the black hole of his past, suddenly falling victim to an old habit. It really looked like it. Either that or I was over-sensitized over such things because of Mindy. But it broke Jimmy.

"O…Okay, the girls are upstairs in the apartments!" Jimmy spilled as he was struggling against Eisenhower, struggling against pain from every angle, fear from every angle. "My… My-my little brother! He's on the till. He's just a college kid!" Crunch. Eisenhower's jaw was tightening, or shifting. He deserved it – who knew how many girls Mindy's age had he gone through? All I knew was that I wouldn't want to know – I would kill him myself if someone else doesn't do it first.

"Kick-Ass! Night-Bitch!" The Colonel ordered, and soon, we were both heading up, but before I was out of ear-shot, I heard something rather… disconcerting.

"Ralph D'Amico is going to hang you for this." Jimmy had said through gritted teeth. Before this, I'd always thought that the D'Amico family was extinct, six feet under for good. The way he said it, it seemed that there was still another D'Amico running things around here, hiding somewhere out there, and he seemed like a very real threat. It wasn't over. It never was. I would need to talk to the Colonel about this.

Meanwhile…

Colonel Stars and Stripes was insane. I certainly didn't join Justice Forever hoping to put a gun to someone's face, or a dog on someone's… nether regions. It certainly wasn't what was in the bible, that's for sure.

"Ow, Ow! It hurts!" Jimmy Kim screamed. I was beginning to feel sorry for him, even if he's a pimp and gangster. The Colonel on the side, well, he was starting to really go a bit cuckoo himself. He seemed to be enjoying this a bit too much, laughing at Kim.

"Yeah, there's a dog on your balls!" The Colonel said it sadistically, as he was laughing. He was actually scaring even me this way. Was this how he was like back then? I guess this was where the line between good and evil blurs. How much of a Superhero was the Colonel? I held my shield close. I was actually a little afraid that the dog would go on overdrive and bite my balls instead, like some poorly wired robot.

"Y-y-you want money? There's 50 grand in the table! Plea- make him stop, please!" Jimmy was positively begging for anything out of this hell we'd taken to him. The Colonel stopped laughing – it seemed that reality and sanity had asserted itself once again. Boy – what a day! Who'd know that being a superhero's so tiring, so thought-provoking? It wasn't the same as the comic-books. It wasn't exactly good versus evil. When I first saw Superman, I knew he was good, hands down, but here…

"You think you can buy us? Is that what you think?" The Colonel said matter-of-factly, "We're not here to steal from you. We're here to send a message to all the other bottom dwellers." God, when the Colonel's in pure superhero mode (compared to his anti-hero mode back there), he was really good with words, and it didn't look rehearsed, "We're shutting you down."

After what felt like forever and ever, the Colonel lowered his pistol. I could finally breathe easy again. I could finally stop caring so much about Jimmy Kim. "Eisenhower, stand down." His dog came off. The mob boss screamed, and screamed like he was on the rack. Wow – I wonder what hurts more? To have a dog chomping down on your balls or having it come off after such a long time? I couldn't help but to wonder if they were still attached or hanging by the skin. "Battleguy, Insectman. Round up all the money on the table, give them to the girls and kids." Then he turned to Jimmy once again, "You owe them more than 50 grands, Jimmy. You ruined their lives. You deserve a bullet to the brain, but you're lucky we're Justice Forever. The Lord in heaven will judge you instead."

Together with Insectman, we began sweeping the copious amount of money into a plastic bag. Despite his ordeal, I could still catch Jimmy taking a disheartened peek at us taking away his gambling money. In the meantime, the Colonel was calling the police through the phone in the poker backroom. It was a smart move on the part of the Colonel – even the police won't know his secret identity that way.

When we were done, I made my way up the front of the building, bringing along the bag of 50 grand. It was funny – that was a lot of money, and I didn't feel tempted at all to just take it. Not even a splitting thought. I felt like a real superhero that way.

"C'mon, there's a van waiting outside from a women's shelter. It'll take you someplace safe." I could hear Nightbitch, and feet going down the stairs as I was making my way out. When I was out, the prostitutes were already piling into a van, "Go, go!"

"Wait! We really can't leave! We have no money…" One of the prostitutes, Korean like Jimmy, said. From behind Nightbitch, I could see the desperation in her face. The prime target for a Spiderman to save, but too bad I wasn't the one talking to her.

"Battleguy, how much do they have on the table?" Nightbitch asked. It was time for me to step out.

"Uh… It's like 50 Grands." I said, handing over the bag of money to Nightbitch.

"You got plenty now." And Nightbitch handed the money over to the prostitute.

"Thank you!" They shared a hug. It felt awesome, and it was addictive. Was this why Dave kept being Kick-Ass? Even after all those beatings he took? Even after all those sacrifices he'd made?

Later…

"You sure you want to sleep alone tonight? I don't mind doing this every night, you know." It was Dave. When he came into my room with 'Little Red Riding Hood', I didn't want him around anymore, even if he kept the nightmares away. He lied to me about everything. I was so angry. I was so upset, but I couldn't let him know. I needed to act, or he would know that I know.

"I'm fine, Dave." I lied. I tried smiling, but it was hard to keep it up. Dad was still working, and I didn't want Dave in the room, so I got into bed myself, "I don't want to bother you anymore." I faced away from him, yawning the best I could. It didn't feel like a real yawn, but Dave didn't seem to notice. I turned to face away from him. I didn't even want to look at him anymore. "Dave, really, I'm fine." Even as I said this, I was crying into Big Teddy's belly.

"Okay… then, if you're happy that way." I could hear Dave say before the door close. I switched off the table lamp. It was dark again. I used to be afraid of it, and now I liked it. This way, no one could see me cry.

I tried to sleep. I wanted to sleep so that I wouldn't be sad, but I couldn't. I kept thinking about the old apartment, about Dave's lies. I kept thinking about what I did. I still couldn't believe that I knew how to pick a lock, and I didn't learn it in school, cross my heart. It must have come from before a bus accident. Why would I know how to pick a lock?

My mind kept wandering back to the photo of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. Who were they? Why was Big Daddy protecting me from Demoness? What does he want? Who was Hit-Girl? I had yet to meet Hit-Girl. The two of them looked like a family, just as me, Dave and Daddy were a family. They were holding… guns. Were they bad people? Dave had said that guns were bad, but… Dave lied to me about his work outside to help people. Was he lying about that too? Was he lying about everything else?

My mind kept wandering back to Hit-Girl's locker. The things inside was dusty, and so were the things inside Big Daddy's locker. If Big Daddy was with me all the while, why would they be dusty? I returned to Hit-Girl's locker. Everything felt like Déjà vu. I remembered what I saw when I picked up the gun. I saw blood, people getting killed. I felt pain, all the way home. The gun felt like Déjà vu. I saw the tights Hit-Girl wore. They were small, like the clothes I wore. She was young like me. But she wasn't… wasn't around anymore about of the dust. Must be. So where did she… did she… go? Was she protecting me like…

Darkness. Light. I was sitting down. It looked like the old apartment, but it was different, a lot better looking. God was sitting beside me. We were on a couch. We were watching TV. "I want you to promise something." God said suddenly, "It's very important."

"Yeah? Shoot." I said, but I didn't sound like me at all. I was still watching TV. It looked like a movie, and people were shooting each other in it. Why were we watching such a film?

"You know, there's going to be a day when I-" God went on, but I cut him off. I couldn't help it. I felt frustrated, even though it wasn't my feeling. It was strange. I was there, and I was not.

"Not this again! Dad!" Dad? At first, I was confused at my own words, but then God was also my heavenly father, so it made sense.

"Promise?" God skipped to the end.

"For the millionth time, I promise, Dad!" I laughed as I said. We hugged. What was I promising?

"Good girl. Well, break time's over. Another set of push ups, let's go." God paused the movie we were watching, and together, we got out of the couch.

I opened my eyes. Light. It was morning, and I woke up without blood on my face. I remembered the dream. I remembered talking to 'Dad'. I remembered something about push ups. I got out of bed, and got down on the ground. Push-ups… I remembered what they were. I had a sudden urge to exercise, so I did what I thought was a push up. You lie down on the ground straight, and then push yourself up with your arms. It was difficult! I could only do it 5 times before I couldn't push myself up again. Then my door opened, and Dave was there. I sat up quickly. I was scared that Dave would find out what I was doing – he had told me a lot of times not to exercise on my own, because I was born weak and I would hurt myself. But I wasn't hurt when I did 5 push-ups…

"Mandy? What're you up to?" Dave looked puzzled as he looked down at me. At first, I couldn't think of anything to say, and I hate lying.

"Oh, I was just looking for something under my bed." I lied in the end. It felt easier to lie. Dave himself was a liar, and I'd done it a lot of times myself. It felt easier to lie, but it hurts that way. I felt bad, and it felt like I am bad. I still love Dave – I couldn't forgive him like I thought I could, but he was still my brother, the same brother who took care of me whenever he was around.

"Well, okay. Dad's out, so I'm cooking breakfast instead." Dave gave me a weird look. Did he believe what I said? He went down after that, and I went to the bathroom, to take a bath and brush my teeth. Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long day ahead. I did them all quick. I felt the need to. I couldn't explain where it came from. I did it all in a funny way. I brushed my teeth in the bathtub, and I let the toothpaste stay in my mouth when I showered.

When I was down in the kitchen 6 minutes later (there was a clock in the bathroom), Dave was still frying pancakes. "Whoa, Mandy, you need to learn how to slow down! How long did you take? Five minutes?" Dave said as he was cooking. I remember him saying that before.

I had time to think as I waited for the pancakes. I wanted so much to just talk to Dave about it, about the old apartment, about his lies, but I knew I couldn't. I wasn't supposed to follow him in the first place. Interrogation 101, sunshine: there's no line between the truth and the lie except your line. But I had an idea. Ideas kept coming at me from nowhere. It was scaring me. "Here, enjoy!" Dave set down the pancakes before me. I beamed at him, but it was still difficult to, after I knew so much more about him. I grabbed my knife. My hand was shaking again.

"Oh, right, I'm so sorry Mandy-" Dave reached out to take my knife from my hand but I pulled it away, still shaking. Dave looked surprised when I did that. He quickly put his hand away.

"No, Dave, it's fine…" I tried my best to use the knife. I could cut out a piece, but I felt like dropping the knife. My shaking hand felt weak. I put the knife down and ate my first piece. I did that a few more times, but I gave up after that. I still couldn't understand why I couldn't do it like a normal girl! Everyone could hold a knife just fine, except me. We ate in silence for a while. It wasn't like the first week we were here.

"Dave, Pete said he saw you going into an old apartment." I said. It was my idea. I didn't want to let him know that I was following him. It wasn't even a lie. It was a… half-lie. Good call, baby doll. "Is that where the Good Samaritan Hotline place is?" Please, please, Dave, please don't lie to me again oh please-

Dave looked shocked when I mentioned it. I thought that he should be, because I wasn't supposed to know. It took him some time to say something. "Yeah, actually, yes, of course." Dave LIED. It didn't even sound like a convincing lie. DAVE LIED. AGAIN!

"Why would I be there in the first place if it wasn't?" DAVE continued LYING. I wanted to smile at him, to let him know that I 'believed' him, but I couldn't do it anymore, like the way he was doing. I was angry, but I knew I shouldn't show it. I started cutting up my pancake with my fork, I did it again and again. It felt good, the brown skin-like colour, the white flesh inside. I poured strawberry syrup on it rather than maple syrup. It looked good that way. I was angry, but I couldn't show it.

"But Dave… Pete said it was a place where people lived." I continued with my made-up story. Dave was giving me that look again, looking at me as if I was lying. I WAS TELLING MORE TRUTH THAN HE WAS. I took a bite of brown skinned, white fleshed pancake with strawberry syrup. For a moment, I thought I saw Demoness peeking in from a window from a corner of my eyes, but when I looked at the window again, I didn't see anyone.

"Weren't Pete with you at his house yesterday?" Dave dodged me. It felt even worse I took another piece of pancake. Dave's pancake was delicious, but his lies weren't.

"He was taking his bike out to buy 7-up for me. He's nice that way, Dave." I lied. I was good at it, I didn't know how but I was. I didn't want to be, but I had to be. "He saw you on the way." Pete had never done such a thing for me, not even on other days. He was just a friend, a board game buddy. He wasn't Dave who would go out of his way for me, for everything, including LYING, and BREAKING my HEART, MAKING me SAD.

Dave looked stunned, even more so than just now. "You see, Mandy, people could use their house for anything, you know. I was with this family, and we used their house for the Good Samaritan thing…" Dave went on with his lie.

"Okay…" I wasn't even looking at him anymore. I didn't feel like doing that. I was looking at my pancakes instead, which was all cut up and had strawberry syrup all over. I didn't want to continue any further. The more I did, the more upset I became.

Later…

I did the same thing I did yesterday. I went to the old apartment. It felt like I was meant to be there. It felt like the apartment was calling to me, as if Big Daddy and Hit-Girl were calling me. This time, I waited for a long time, like an hour, for Dave to leave and then cycled to the old apartment. I picked the lock on the door again – it was easier this time – and went inside.

Sitting down on the same chair again, I looked at the picture of Big Daddy and Hit-Girl. Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long night ahead. I turned, but I couldn't see anyone. Then I heard someone running, and I saw a girl sprinting into the kitchen. I heard metal slamming. The lockers. I ran into the kitchen – I wanted to meet Hit-Girl, but when I was inside, I saw no one. I approached the Hit-Girl locker myself, and opened it.

The picture… Hit-Girl looked so much like me, I thought. Prep in 5, baby doll, we have a long night ahead. I took out the purple tights hanging in the closet. I started changing. I was changing. I felt like changing. Purple flashed in my mind. I took off my dress, and put on the tights. They were a little tight, but they fitted well. I did it fast. Then I had to unzip it again, because I forgot this… vest thing. Prep in 5. I threw on the cape, the skirt, the gloves. The boots were a problem, but I discovered that there were zips, so they were easy that way. There was a mask, the pink utility belt. There were these black things… holsters. I had one for my leg and two for my belt. I had to dust the purple wig first before slipping it on. Everything felt stiff – the clothes were old.

When I stood up again, I felt like I was floating. The boots made me taller. I felt heavier. When I tried to walk, it was harder to lift my legs. It felt like getting rocks tied to my legs. I turned to leave. Flashes of red. Blood. Always keep your weapons with you, honey, or they'll use them against you. I returned to the locker, but I didn't really dare to pick up the weapons. Eventually, I did. I was told to, my words, words that helped me. Words that I knew didn't come from Demoness. There were 3 knives – throwing knives. I was shaking so much that I was struggling to put them in. I kept seeing red. There was a larger knife, which was harder to put in the right place, and I had trouble finding the right place. The pistols- 2 pistols. I grabbed them both, my hands shaking. I placed them in their holsters. I had to try a few times. I was sweating. It was tiring. I closed the locker, but then another idea came into my mind.

I had to check the pistols for some reason. I took out one, played around with it. Fingers off the trigger, darling, unless you're shooting. I pushed a button – had to try a few times because my finger kept missing. Something dropped from the handle. I couldn't catch it, and it fell on the floor. I picked it up again. Mag… Magazine. I flipped it around. Cartridges. It felt right and correct. I returned it to where it was, with difficulty. Pull Slide. Safety on. Who am I? I did the same with the other pistol. My hands felt like coming off.

Thud. Thud. Thud. I returned to the room where the picture was. My legs felt heavy. I took the picture down and returned to the kitchen. There was a standing mirror, so I stood in front of it, and held the picture under-shouldered. Compared myself with Hit-Girl. I scrutinised her eyes, her chin, and mine. I saw her body, mine. I dropped the painting. My hands felt weak. Hard to breathe. It felt like a sledgehammer over the head, what came next in my head.

I was Hit-Girl. I AM Hit-Girl.