The Descent

Chapter 19: Hurt Again

The bus took us to an apartment with white walls. I did things just like in the old apartment, following Dave and the woman inside. With my disguise, I wasn't afraid to get into the same elevator as them. Dave could not recognise me, even when he looked me straight in the face. All I did was to keep them quiet – whatever it was they were talking about sounded serious, so serious that they didn't even want a passer-by to know about it.

Dave went for the top floor. I pressed the button two floors below his, avoiding his suspicion, and when I exited on the floor below, I took the stairs up to spy on them. I did it quietly – no running – so that they won't know I was following them. By the time I poked my head out, they were already in front of a door at the end of the hallway, getting in.

I had to wait again, just like the way Demoness taught me. But what more could Dave hide from me? He lied about the Good Samaritan Hotline, but the truth was even better: Dave was a superhero, just like the Buzzard in the park. Dave broke a few promises, but he made up for them. He won't hurt me again.

Later…

It took them half an hour to leave, my watch said so. I was still wearing the Spongebob Squarepants watch Dr Paul gave me. It was a mistake, and I was surprised that Dave didn't discover that I was following him. I'd zoned out for most of the time. I kept telling myself that Dave won't lie to me again, that he won't hurt me again because he won't. The elevator bell woke me up. I kept asking myself if this was what I used to do as Hit-Girl before the bus accident, but I couldn't remember the answer. It couldn't even be a yes or a no.

Just like in the old apartment, I went to the door Dave was at. I still had the Hello Kitty hairclip I broke, so I took it out and started picking the lock again. It was harder this time. The lock was different, and my lockpicking hairclip had gotten softer the more I used it. I played the piano, pushing the keys inside, trying to get the rhythm. Then it snapped, my hairclip. I pulled the drastically shortened thing out, unsure of what to do next.

I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to do it again, but I had to break another hairclip Daddy gave me. Taking it off my lengthy hair, letting it fall, I pulled it apart, another Hello Kitty face falling off. I ignored it the best I could. It was upsetting. Untold words came into mind. Damn it, Dave. SWEAR.

Inserting the new lockpicking thing, I fished out the other half of my old hairclip inside and got to work again. I was halfway through. I had to press my ears closer to hear the clicks. It felt horrible, not knowing what was on the other side of the door that Dave had to be so secret about. I found myself thinking more about that than the lock, but the door unlocked while I was doing so, even when I was a little distracted. It felt like I was getting better at lockpicking – but it didn't feel like something to be proud of, yet there was something inside praising me, telling me that I was a good girl, that I was his baby doll.

I swung open the door. A pink luggage on the side. An empty hallway. I walked in, a little frightened by this new place. The lights were off, so I groped for the switch, but I found the switches faster than expected. Déjà vu. The next thing I saw was a door with a keypad by its side – the keypad was small. I didn't know how I noticed it. I reached for it – felt the familiar texture of the polymer. Some of the buttons felt familiar. I pressed a few numbers, and it purred like a kitty cat. What did it do? It felt like the right thing to do. Security alarm. The words came up, and I understood.

I went into the door the keypad was protecting, and I was surrounded by guns everywhere, not just pistols, but also… assault rifles, shotguns, machine-pistols, sniper rifles. The words hit me one after another as I saw all the guns on the walls. Who would own such things? I couldn't help but to shiver at the sight, at all the guns, all the guns that could kill, that could spill blood. They surrounded me like a pack of wolves. Getting closer, getting closer, about to shoot, about to kill! Who would own such things? But something pulled me out.

The answer to my question was on a desk. A picture of two persons. It was dark, so I couldn't see. I started looking for switches again, and after I found them and returned to the picture, I saw myself in the picture, and immediately next to me was Dad in his blonde hair and moustache. I could remember now. He wasn't God. He was Daddy all along, and I was adopted. Twice. I couldn't remember my previous adoptive father. Blonde hair and moustache. He was real, all real. I wanted to touch him, to feel his face again. The photograph would not do, it would not do. I wanted to find him again, but I remembered that I won't find him again, because Daddy's dead, too late.

My legs felt weak. I had to sit down. Everything Dave told me was a lie, and 'Daddy' lied along with him too. I remembered. Dave LIED about everything. He LIED about everything. The bus accident, my name, my 'mother', how I was like before, even the colour I liked. He LIED about everything, that's why I couldn't remember what he said as memories. Yet, it all felt so real, the past month. Dave was never my brother all along, but I couldn't stop loving him as my brother. Dave's father was nice to me all along, I knew I couldn't leave him. Yet now I felt like running away. They made me happy, so happy, but now it felt like I was in a pit.

I started remembering things. Bits and pieces. Daddy drawing on the other side of the room full of guns, flashes of myself. I watched television in this room. But I am Mandy Lizewski. I love Dave and Daddy. They took care of me, even when it was hard. They made me happy before. Yet they LIED to me. They LIED to me! Who am I? Who am I!? Who the hell am I!? SWEAR. I looked at the photo on the desk again. It was me, with my real daddy. I tried to remember more, but I couldn't. All I remembered from before the bus accident no there was no bus accident were tiny bits. I remembered I used to swear a lot, but thinking back, I found it distasteful. I remembered another room nearby was my bedroom.

WHO AM I!? I believed that Dave wouldn't hurt me anymore, but I was wrong. So much pain, so uncomfortable. I couldn't even understand who I am anymore. I could feel a headache coming on, but I couldn't help it. It came on quickly. I am not Mandy Lizewski, I don't love Dave, and my Daddy isn't Dave's. No, I am Mandy Lizewski – Dave took care of me, and so did Daddy. Who else am I? No other names came up. Dave hid it from me, he hid it from me.

"See what I mean?" I heard Demoness, but when I tried to find her, I couldn't see her anywhere, "I'm right, aren't I?" She sounded like she was behind me, but when I turned around, I couldn't see anyone.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. So many things – confusion, my splitting headache, all the new memories clashing with my life. There were so many things and Demoness was getting on my nerves, "Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" I couldn't control myself. I slammed my fists down on the table. Pain erupted in them, down to the bones. Something I didn't know I was capable of. I pulled at my hair – the pain in my head was too much, I slammed the desk. Blood out! Blood bleeding out! Out my nose!

Then she was in front of me. She had found herself a new black dress to replace her towel. She came ominously towards me, but I was too angry at everything to be afraid. "Good, keep getting pissed off, girlie. You're getting there." Demoness said.

I left the apartment – my apartment soon after, leaving Demoness behind. I couldn't stay there anymore, where all the truth was, where Dave kept all the truth hidden. Dave LIED to me about everything, and now I need to find out about everything. I knew I had another name, that I was someone else, but I couldn't remember. I was someone else, and so was Hit-Girl. Hit-Girl wasn't Mandy Lizewski. I knew I am not Mandy, yet I wanted so much to be, yet I am Mandy. Yet I am not. Who am I? WHO AM I!?

The Next Day…

"Mandy?" I called my sister over the dining table. She was just sitting there, not touching her cereals, almost in a trance. It was starting to worry me. She wouldn't move, wouldn't even blink. It was only when I placed my hand over hers on the table that she gazed up at me, but something was wrong. She did it in a dreamy sort of way, lacking focus, lacking emotions, "Mandy? What's wrong?" She looked away again, and retracted her hand. She looked down, her eyes on her end of her table. Never a good sign.

"Nothing." Mindy said dreamily, her voice lethargic, her eyes still on their own, "Still a little sick, I guess." She looked at me again and smiled, but I could tell that even that took effort. Then she finally started eating, but I could tell that her appetite wasn't exactly voracious, "How was your date yesterday?"

"Yeah… It went really well. We'll be seeing each other again really soon." I replied, the bare mention of yesterday forcing me to recall yesterday. When I came home a little later than I planned because of my trip to Big Daddy and Hit-Girl's headquarter and then the park after that, Mindy had locked herself in her room. She had never done that before.

"What took you so long to get back home, Dave?" She continued questioning me. I could just about tell what Mindy was getting at – it sounded like the usual. She wanted to be with me more, and Thursday was supposed to be one of those days, except Miranda came into the picture.

"Mandy, you wouldn't know how it's like yet but…" At the same time, I had avoid mentioning the bit about us both going to her late father's headquarters, "when two people are in love, they'd want to spend more time with each other…" The way Mindy behaved, I couldn't tell how she took it. She looked too depressed for Mindy, and for an 11-year-old in general.

"Isn't there something you want to tell me?" My adopted sister suddenly said, her sad, green eyes begging me for something. At first, I was at a loss for words, but then again I just had to switch gears a bit. It wasn't the first time she was being clingy to me. I moved myself and my chair next to her. Gave her a hug, kissed her in her forehead. Dad would have approved, but he was away at the office early. I would never have imagined myself this way just a month ago, but I guess had I had a sister much earlier in my life, this would have been how I would be like. Mindy was a little stiff – it was almost as if she tensed up when I touched her. She didn't move much, her eyes still staring at where I used to be.

"Look, Mandy, we'll get to spend some time together, but it can't be every day." I said, trying to get her to lighten up a bit. It felt like an uphill struggle these days, "I've got a life of my own, you know. Besides, it's the quality of the time we spend together that matters, don't you think?" I released her, but she just sat there, as still as before. It felt as if the answer I gave her wasn't satisfactory, but it was the best I could do. I'd have to rely on plan B: letting her cool off on her own. Picking up my empty bowl, I brought it to the kitchen sink to wash it. "You really need to eat, Mandy. The bus is coming in 15 minutes."

15 minutes later, Mindy barely touched her bowl of cereal. When the bus' horn sounded through the windows and door, she grabbed her Hello Kitty bag and slung it over her shoulder sluggishly. I followed her, put an arm over her shoulders, but she pushed it off, wriggled out of it even, as if I hadn't showered for weeks. She had gone from upset to mad again. "Mandy! Ma-" She stomped out of the door on me. I had only one consolation: She'd cool off after a day, maybe in even less than that. Yeah, she always did. Yet, the way she did not explode, the way she did not shout or cry as much concerned me greatly. No, she'll be fine.

Later…

Justice Forever was expanding quickly, very quickly in such a short time, such that we could even form a second group, or squad, or team, or whatever immediately. A new batch of superheroes had just came in, and the lounge was no longer suitable for introductions anymore. We had to do it in the main hall. There were 12 of us starting last Friday, and now we had six more joining us wholesale. It had only been a week, and it was another 50% growth, though that's only taking into account the numbers. You certainly can't consider Captain America 'just one man'. As time passed, the people joining the superhero scene were becoming more and more serious. I wouldn't have suspected that Colonel Stars and Stripes was just the midpoint of this trend, as now we have…

Ronin: A badass samurai in all but name. He's a Chinese-Japanese who just migrated in from Japan a few weeks ago. He was looking for his elder brother, who was in the Chinese triad in New York City. He had no idea where to find him, and when he heard about Justice Forever, he decided that we were the best place to be since we're dealing with crime.

He wears a full samurai armour, red in colour but cool in design. It had this awesome mask thing that looks absolutely terrifying to cover his face. He wasn't even that tall, but he looked just as imposing as the Colonel. And he even had a Katana and 'Wazikashi' and a WW2 era rifle on his back. The Colonel objected to all this, but Ronin promised not to use them at all, except in the most extreme of circumstances, which the Colonel still objected to. Thankfully, our resident samurai also had a 'Shinai' thing, which is like a bamboo sword. According to him, everything he had belonged to his grandfather, which were passed down to his father, who died just before he came to New York City. Knowing Asian films, I suspect a connection between his dead father and his Triad brother.

When he introduced himself, he didn't even have a superhero name to begin with. We had plenty of fun coming up with a name for him. We started with the obvious one, Samurai, but it was just too corny and expected. The Tsunami didn't work either, and neither did Marty's 'Blade', which reminded me too much of the movie. So in the end, we went with Ronin, which even our resident samurai agreed to. He said it fits him very well, 'considering the circumstances', he said.

Sergeant Crescent: Another military themed superhero whom the Colonel was very glad to have. He was a Chinese guy, not very tall, but a few years older than me, a little over 20. His family came in from Singapore, a country I had no idea existed before I heard about it from him. His father was a businessman, and had migrated just six months ago to relocate his import/export business here. He became The Crescent after his father was cheated by a fellow businessman with links to the mafia and hung himself out of shame. His family was brought to near bankruptcy, and that includes himself, his mother and his uncle's family.

His gear was memorabilia from Singapore. Apparently, every guy there was required to serve in the military for 2 crazy years. The poor guy finished his 'National Service' as he calls it just before his father made the decision to move to New York City. Still, I wouldn't have minded military service – it would have helped Kick-Ass kick ass.

Anyway, he's in some kind of a jungle digital camo military fatigue with the Singapore flag sewn on his shoulders (the way the Colonel had the US flag sewn on his) along with red round Velcro badges with a white crescent on both arms. He had vest, helmet and guards. His face was obscured by a pair of tank goggles and camo scarf. He had a 'rattan shield' and this beastly wooden club for weapons.

Neonstyle Epilepsy: A colourful fellow who was an electrician by day, and light fanatic by night. He had no real reason to be a superhero, like Marty and me, so I had to watch out for him, though everyone's suspect.

His light sources would put the All-Seeing Eye and his headlamp to shame, as not only does he have batteries and torches in most of his pockets, he had flareguns and lightsticks in the pockets on him where there weren't torches. Oh, and a shoulder lamp too, like the kind found in Aliens. His reason was rather poetic. He wanted to bring light to the world.

Monk: Someone who finally won Colonel Stars and Stripes in the age department. He looked to be over 60, but his demonstration with his staff contradicted that impression. He wasn't so much a superhero as someone who's just trying to help. He was dressed in some orange robes and monk's sandals and white socks (though how it was brandless escapes me), and like Insectman, wears no mask. After some thoughts on it, being maskless would be fine – some comic book heroes don't wear masks, after all. Frank Castle, I'm looking at you.

His reason for joining the club? Our take down of the brothel in Chinatown. He was a monk at the local monastery there, and he was so appalled by what his people had done that he decided that somebody had to repay the damages that Jimmy Kim and his gang of Korean and Chinese mobsters incurred through their criminal enterprise. No one objected to his reasoning. How could anyone? It was way too cool to have a Raiden-like guy with us. Well, minus the supernatural powers. But his martial art skills would be close enough!

Questioner: A guy dressed like a detective, except he's got a gasmask on. According to him, he was hardly in a costume at all. He professed to being a private investigator. Like All-Seeing Eye, he'd gotten sick of always becoming the observer. Not to mention, he was also sick of investigating on cheating spouses and truant kids, and wanted to solve actual problems. His intervention as a private investigator wasn't much of an intervention either – what got to him the worst was whenever he received the news that whatever results he came up with ended up with some violence involved thereafter. And it happened quite a number of times.

He wasn't armed at all, but like some private investigators, he used to be a cop, so he knew how to fight unarmed, and he knew how to handle firearms if he needed to. The Colonel was the first, as usual, to tell him to either bring it unloaded or leave it at home loaded.

Target-Lock: A guy in blue fatigues, helmet and goggles. He wore a black vest with a black, white and blue bullseye target right smack on his chest as his symbol. His costume raised a few eyebrows, but its origins, I'd gotta admit, was far better than mine. I chose mine just because it looked cool, out of a few selections. Heck, I almost ended up with a devilish red set of scuba suit.

He had a bullseye on his chest as a symbol of his purpose: he wanted to be the target in place of everybody else, including the innocent, children, women, the elderly. He would be actively sacrificing himself just by stepping out of the door with the literal target board on his chest. But at least he a Kevlar plate inside, so it wasn't all bad.

He had no weapons, but he's a college guy and an active athlete, or a jock in highschool terms, but he seemed like a nice guy. He looked upon his speed and smarts as his weapon – for his sake, I hope that he wasn't overestimating himself.

…

Briefing went a little longer than expected, but it was way worth it. Justice Forever was going places, and it wasn't just fame on Youtube, the internet forums or the press. The word from the Colonel was… even if what we did bordered on the illegal, plenty of the official law enforcers out there actually liked what we were doing. The Colonel was even growing his networks within the police force. He knew a few patrolmen and detectives who were willing to support him, and he had plans to cast a bigger net. "With some hope, we'd get our own commissioner Gordon, huh?" Marty quipped, shaking with excitement at what he was part of during our meeting. We were all muttering in agreement.

With Justice Forever 18 members strong, we had to split up – we couldn't march around as one huge party. We'd be disrupting traffic that way. In the end, the Colonel decided that the newest members should form 'Bravo Party', as he called it, but for the first week, he would take charge of it. I was asked along, and so was Nightbitch. We agreed readily – how could I not? I just couldn't wait to see them in action. In the meantime, Insectman was given control of the prestigious 'Founding Party'.

And when things get big, it reminded me of something else. Back in Jimmy Kim's illegal brothel, the head gangster mentioned a name. Ralph D'Amico. He mentioned that he would 'hang' us for trashing his place. The fact that nothing happened made it seemed like nothing, but when it hit me again, I couldn't ignore the twist in my stomach, and my imagination. One thing lead to another, and soon I was paranoid again, counting hundreds of hit-men just waiting for the order to clear us out like rats.

"I have to ask… Does the name Ralph D'Amico ring any bells, Colonel Sir?" When the rest of Justice Forever was moving for the exit, I managed to catch the Colonel on the side. We were still in the meeting room, which had changed quite a bit, by now looking a little like a police briefing room in the middle of a training area, workshop, research station and wardrobe section. The Colonel was fixated on a mirror, as if trying to find something within his own eyes, and failing.

"Ralphie D'Amico? He's the newly appointed head of the five families of New York since 8 months ago." Colonel Stars and Stripes said flatly, not even looking at himself, but searching for something within himself, but still failing to find it. The name didn't seem to bother him at all. "He's elder brother to Frank D'Amico and uncle to Christopher D'Amico. If you think Frank's evil, Ralph is worse." The Colonel was calm, but I was almost shitting myself.

"Doesn't that, you know, bother you even slightly?" I asked, trying to be as calm as he was, but the idea of going back to the utter underground of New York crime was making me blue, black and blue. I remembered getting beaten up with fists, brass knuckles, bats and batons while being tied to a chair. If Ralph D'Amico's worse than that, I couldn't predict what would be coming for us, and how we could prepare to face such a force. Then my thoughts took a turn for Mindy. Shit. She would be utterly defenceless. Like a little girl. Because as far as little girls go, she was on the extreme end, and it wasn't on the Hit-Girl side of things.

"Don't worry 'bout it, Kick-Ass. He's an extreme case of agoraphobia. Been locked up in Riker's Island for close to two decades that he doesn't know how the world out there's like anymore." The Colonel replied, flat as usual, "And he won't be getting out anytime soon."

"But how on earth do you run 5 mafias from a prison?" It stank of something, a prelude to atrocities unknown to mankind. He sounded like the Joker to my Batman, or my Lex Luthor to my Superman, something even worse than that.

"There's only so much he could do." I found his eyes on the mirror. For the first time ever, I couldn't trust him, not fully. For the first time, I thought I saw what appears to be fear in his stout eyes. He did not answer my question. How on earth do you run 5 mafias from a prison in the first place?