The Spiralling

Chapter 11: Mindset

His former home in New York was close within earshot, and now it seemed distant in time and leagues. The police had taken Aldan to the closest station for questioning regarding the incident that cost a hardworking policeman and a young gangster their lives. Kick-Ass was released earlier, and immediately he left after communicating to the elder master several means of reaching the kid.

The Grandmaster felt even more insulted, having all his weapons and protective gear taken from him. Even his cloak was removed from his shoulders for fear of 'Concealed Arms' as the policemen put in charge of him had said. At the very least however, he was put in a clean room with a Styrofoam cup of coffee between him and a detective.

"So let me get this straight- You drove all the way from Canada on an SUV, came here 'questing' for your long-lost family and happened to run into that wacko girl that the media dubbed 'Demoness... And Kick-Ass in your epic journey of soul-searching?" The rather dismissive detective of an equal to the Grandmaster droned for the umpteenth time.

Aldan, despite bearing the wisdom and patience that came with his chosen lifestyle and age, was starting to grow weary and frustrated of being asked the same inquiries repeatedly, and having to give the same answers over and over again. Mentoring the worse, single most reluctant and troublesome student in his academy to the north was a far more soothing experience compared to this.

"So why the get-up?" The rather casual detective asked, his eyes fixed to his notepad without lifting, as though a television was installed into the tiny little booklet.

"I travel in such a 'get-up' like this every time without fail, for danger lurks everywhere, and it is expected of me as a Grandmaster Swordsman." The detective nodded mechanically as he scribbled away like a machine- he was a test of patience like no other, "I have a license."

"Yes, I've seen it." After letting loose a long sigh of release as though he was the one suffering, the old detective closed his notepad and spent a few seconds in contemplation before he spoke again, "That'd be it. Want another cuppa coffee?" The detective offered but his equal in age rejected it, being a tea appreciator rather than a dependent caffeine consumer.

After leaving the interview room, Aldan was offered a ride by another officer, and his accepted it- he was sent back to his suburban home of many yesteryears go. Somehow, after his ordeal was over, the object of his quest really was close within earshot.

Ten long minutes passed before he could see his home again however- an old, discoloured, abandoned estate with many fallen decorative and fences that could no longer keep out the elements and strangers.

Upon stepping out of the police cruiser and breathing the familiar air from the home of his distant, near-forgotten young adult days, the anger and sadness, the spice of life. The Grandmaster could all but recall everything but the reason why he chose to exile himself. Setting foot into the weed-infested, overgrown jungle of a lawn, Aldan realised that he could see everything as they were, crystal clear, unperturbed. It was his utopia, his haven- he was home. A gust of wind blew, caressing his face, rearranging his cloak like a careful lover. The teacher remembers his wife, a woman slightly shorter than he (half a head), with the most angelic if not rare bronze eyes. Graceful as an Elf, a dancer of talents with pale skin.

Opening a door that no longer exists, or was flat on the ground after years of neglect, vandalism and burglary, he entered the living room- A white, noiseless void presented itself to him- it was pure peace. He was his wife would spend hours together just talking in the company of the fire- or without. They would laugh and share their sufferings or joy as if they were one. Floating through the living room without a sound despite his heavy build and equipment, he went right into the kitchen, where he saw his wife at the cooking counter, cutting up vegetables- He loved her cooking, he could in fact smell it there and then...

"Grandmaster!" A rather familiar young voice warned Aldan, snapping him out of his moment of remembrance. The figure looming before him was not his wife, but what looked like a teen junkie girl high on some substance on trend at present. Wielding a rusty chopper in one hand, she tried bring half the old man's face down with her weapon, seeing him as an intruder to 'her' den, but there was a long sword between him and decapitation- his apprentice's.

"Michael!" His voice was that of surprise and anger- anger as his student had disobeyed him, and as a consequence probably lost days of hard training and learning that could've brought him many steps closer to another level of enlightenment. Realising that she was very likely to be outmatched, the druggie backed away. Pointing the sharp end of his blade at her, Michael warned her, telling her without words that lethal force would be used if she chose to abandon the little shred of rationality in her.

As expected, dropping her butcher knife, she ran away screaming through the back door, bringing with her two more of her weed-smoker friends who were stoned in a corner, her steps heavier and clumsier than as expected of a young woman of her small, lean size, "What in God's name are you doing here?" The Grandmaster demanded of his young apprentice.

"Sir, I-" Was all the apprentice could utter before he was cut down verbally. He was of no match to Aldan, both in words and in swordplay, or in virtually every field but those his teacher considered unnecessary diversions from the discipline of the sword.

"Fail to listen, and you will never acquire the right to command." The Grandmaster quoted from a source only he would know. Turning away from his apprentice, he walked out the kitchen and back into the white void that was the living room. His wife was sitting there, by the fire, but of course that was in his mind. In reality, the couches were ruined and the fireplace, cold and dark.

"Grandmaster, I just want to serve you." The apprentice tried justifying himself, spurred by his loyalty towards his teacher and his secret desire to apply what he had learnt, as any young rash men would.

"And what of your education?" As if the apprentice's presence in New York was a trauma, Aldan asked absently, almost as if he was never actually there. Instead, the man of advanced age was occupying his mind mostly with past affairs. Climbing the rotting stairs, he made his way towards the 2nd level of his home with his apprentice following closely behind.

"I could learn important things, many things while I aid you, sir, please!" The apprentice begged as his master peered over his living room, remembering the joys of the past. Minutes passed; Michael joins his master in viewing his home from above.

"Years passed, and still a thread exists between my family and me." The Grandmaster muttered, seemingly in a daze. His eyes were following shadows invisible to everyone else around him, "I had many followers in camp, yet I return home."

"I will allow you to aid me, since you are already here." The Grandmaster said, suddenly facing Michael, in a moment of clarity.

In a hospital elsewhere...

As Mindy enters the hospital room, the familiar symphony of a patient's heartbeat as reflected on a monitor greets her as it had greeted me when I came along, adding stress as far as I could easily tell to an already nervous and upset girl. Inside the ward, Marcus was bandaged all over, especially in the numerous places he was shot. Unconscious from his trauma and beyond incapacitation, he was hooked up to numerous machines that I cannot seem to name.

I was sitting next to her stepfather, my face a map of concentration and a history book of my previous battles- I was surprised no one suspected that I was the 'green condom' or 'Kick-Ass' depending on who's asking. Mindy was far worst off- she was pale with shock and disbelief, eyebags previously foreign to her young face had found their way under her eyes as if to carry the heavy burden of emotions that had befallen her which she's not as used to carrying as guns and knives.

The policemen who came previous had said that she had fainted earlier when the news was delivered to her, unable to take the strain of loss any long.

After losing her biological and very close father who was Big Daddy to D'Amico's executioners, she had been steadily losing her battle-hardened, hard-trained iron grip on her psychological health and emotions, so much as losing her refined tasted for killing bad guys soon after avenging Big Daddy.

The school psychiatrist had diagnosed her with clinical depression four months ago, and it was then that she began her reign of terror in school. Beyond that, no one knows what's been happening in her mind- but everyone sure knows that something inside of her had died all along, I could tell. Now that Sergeant Marcus was on the brink of death, I'd think her heart was too, and all I knew then that somehow, no matter how socially inept I was, I'd have to try salvaging the situation.

Mindy was a whole different person from how she used to be. Once upon a time, she was an energetic ten year old with a penchant for bloody justice bought by knives and guns. Now, she seemed smaller than she used to be, shrunken by heart troubles it seems. Her eyes were red and puffy with from what was once deemed impossible for a girl like her.

After coming in, she seemed to freeze for a second before striding up to her dearest stepfather and collapsing before him. Clutching him tightly as though he would be whizzed away by an unknown force anytime soon, Mindy buried her face into Marcus' chest. The impossible happened again- and I sure as hell don't know what to do. What would you do if Superman collapsed in tears before you?

Sure, I used to treat her like my little baby sister, bugs and bedtime company and all, once- I don't know her anymore. Times had changed since she gave me that kick in the balls.

With a trembling hand, I started stroking her curvy blonde hair, and, contrary to expectations, it didn't end up fractured in three places. I felt encouraged to treat her even better.

"Hey Mindy... I'm sorry for this..." I said tactfully, or as tactful as I could. I knew I hadn't said the wrong things when my teeth remained where they were. I continued sliding my hands through her hair, in a consoling manner I never knew I possessed any knowledge of.

"I'll fucking kill her for this!" She blurted out as she was snivelling and heaving breaths between her ill-controlled crying. After that, I don't know what I did but it just seemed like the right thing to do- it was another one of those moments that would make a great movie scene.

Getting off my chair into a squat next to her, I whispered closely into her ears, "And I'll help you..." It was all I could think of- how'd you make an assassin feel any better about her father's tragedy? As if deeply touched, her crying grew heavier- and I couldn't stand seeing the great Hit-Girl in shambles. Gently, I put a hand on her shoulder, urging her to back away and catch her breath for a bit before she hyperventilates or something. She fell on me instead.

Seeing that she had never really cried this much before, I could imagine it to be hard work for her. She fell on me, pushing me into a sitting position against the chair with her leaning against me as if we were in a park, leaning against some giant tree from Winnie the Pooh.

"I'll fuck her up..! I'll... Fuck her up!" She muttered hysterically as she was still crying buckets. I was rocking her like how I imagine a big brother would, not that I had any real ideas of how being a brother should be like. I was surprised the orderlies and nurses outside watching hadn't called in the policemen guarding the ward's entrance to separate me from Mindy on charges of molestation. They seemed sympathetic instead, as though they had watched the drama movie of the year.

"And I'll help you like I did before..." I repeated myself. I was running out of ideas on how best to soothe a girl who could kill you at the snap of the fingers. After that I was silent, and I just continued rocking her like some maid who's taking care of a baby, "Hey, It's okay..." If I recall, it took about an hour before she was finally getting a grip on herself.