Note: Sorry for the long delay in chapters. I haven't given up on this story, but RL, especially work, has been crazy lately. I'll try and post more regularly, but I'm afraid I can't make any promises!
May 2014 – the Present
I nearly hit three cars on my way across town, but somehow I manage not to get into an accident and keep my speed just slow enough that I won't get pulled over. My heart is still racing and I look over at the duffle that contains my costume and equipment. It makes me feel better. I'm going to do something about this. I'm going to find Dave and I'm going to save him. We're going to kill Chris and any fucking psychos he has working for him and then we're going to work everything out. It'll be alright. It has to.
I screech to a halt at a light that suddenly turns red and I can feel my pulse throbbing in my neck. I sit staring at the light for a moment, breathing heavily before I drop my head to the steering wheel and close my eyes. What if it doesn't work out? What if he's dead? What if Dave hates me and…oh fuck…oh fuck…oh fuck…
A horn blaring to life behind me snaps me back to reality and I kick the car back into motion. Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm fucking Hit-Girl! I will *not* be phased by this shit! My boyfriend is a fucking traitor who sold out my partner to our greatest enemy? My best friend's dad is dead and all the pain and heartache that's piled onto him in the past few weeks, including his abduction and possible torture, is my fault? Well, suck it up buttercup and do your job! You can sweat all the other shit later. I don't have time to wallow in remorse. If Dave wants to kill you for the shit that happened then let him slit your throat if you feel that bad, but do *not* lose your shit right now!
I see now why Daddy kept us separate from people in the 'real' world. Why he said that making connections was bad for people in our line of work. It's a weakness, a chink in our armour. It gets in the way of the Mission.
I shake my head though: I'm seeing first-hand the pain and torture it brings but I just can't believe that what Dave and I have…had…was wrong. It's held me together more times than I can count and if this is the price then…well then it was well worth it. I'll do anything for him. That's just the way it is.
I park the car on the quiet street and look out at the mansions that surround me. Fuck. We took down his fucking mobster father and dealt a severe blow to his family's holdings and Chris still lives in the lap of luxury from the proceeds of his family's ill-gotten gains. If I was a different person it might make me want to quit at the apparent futility of it all, but instead it just strengthens my resolve. I will stop fuckers like this from profiting from the pain of others. They are going to die in the pain they inflict or *I* will die trying to make it so.
I grab my duffel bag and leave the car looking around until I spot a secluded area I can use to get ready. Luckily for me this neighbourhood is just chock-full of shady little arbors perfect for my needs. I surreptitiously enter the shadows of one such place as Mindy and a few minutes later Hit-Girl emerges some distance away. I double check my equipment and then make my way down the street. It's now or never.
I've scouted this house - sorry estate - several times before. Chris had kept himself quiet since we took down his dad, but I always knew this day would come so I was damn well going to be prepared. Looks like I only batted 500 on that one. Still, I feel like I know the place like the back of my hand: the number of guards, their patterns, the security equipment – everything. Of course given the circumstances all of that is probably changed and I certainly never expected to be breaking in without my partner – fuck, that I'd be doing it to *save* him! The cost of my failure will be infinitely greater than wounded pride. Good thing I'm not going to fail.
I stay in the shady tree-lined edge as I follow the perimeter of the wall until I come to the spot I had pin-pointed in my earlier reconnaissance, the one where the cameras scanning the immediate area have a blind spot. I take the wall at a run and scale it easily. Crouching at the top I scan the grounds quickly before dropping down to the ground and pulling out the binoculars from my pack so I can look for the sentries.
I hate doing this kind of thing in daylight, but I've got no choice. I can only hope the guards are as hapless as D'Amico employees have always tended to be. The fact that Chris is expecting me makes all of my worries pretty much moot anyway. My only choice is to do this now or leave Dave to his fate. As if that's even a choice.
Right on time I see the guard cross in front of the house, do his check, and continue on his way. I do another quick scan of the area and then stow the binoculars. I've got a wide space between where I am and the closest entrance to the house. There's nothing to do but make a break for it. I hope Chris hasn't invested in dogs. I really don't want to have to kill some innocent animal instead of the scum that usually works for him- besides they make way too much noise.
I reach the house without incident and swing into the angle between two walls. This is way too easy. If I didn't already know Chris was expecting me I'd be worried. I melt into my hiding place with my back to the wall as I hear the guard approaching again. Just as he steps past me I reach out and grab him by the mouth and throat, pulling him back towards me. A quick struggle and it's over. I stash the body in a nearby bush and pull his walkie from his belt. There's no chatter at the moment, but I want to know the minute he's missed. He's got no keys on him, but even the best locks won't hold out against my skills. I just hope I have enough time before he's expected to check-in.
The opulence of the hallway I walk into once I jimmy the door makes me sick. It's obvious Chris doesn't have any taste and so his solution is to clutter every available corner with something expensive. Fuck, at least his dad had a style and went with it no matter how cliché, this is just luxury for the sake of it. It's like Paris Hilton and Donald Trump had a baby that puked all over the walls and floor.
My guess is that he's got Dave stashed in the basement somewhere, assuming that I'm actually right about him bringing him here at all instead of to some other holding of his family's. Still, I ought to scout as much of this monstrosity as I can on my way. A little inside knowledge won't hurt and it might give me a sense of how many goons he has in this place, but my heart aches at the thought of leaving Dave alone and in pain any longer than I have to.
I peer around the nearest corner, but no one's in sight. It's a long hallway, but I make a dash past several closed doors and stop just before a stairway. I see two guards below me standing around in a foyer and talking like the douchebags they are about some slut they both banged last night. Part of me wants to rush down and put them out of their misery, but discretion is the better part of valour this time. I wait, rolling my eyes at the inanity of their blustering and then slink down the stairs once they have left.
I'm really starting to feel the itch. If I don't kill a fucker soon I think I might go crazy. Of course I'm really hoping to get a hold of Chris and show him what pain can mean. Suddenly there is a burst of garbled talk from the walkie. I stop and duck into the arch of a doorway, listening to the chatter.
At first it seems to be little more than a demand that someone report in – my guard must have finally been missed. When there is no response the tone gets angrier and then finally orders are barked tersely when it's obvious something is wrong. I can hear the running footfalls that are starting to resound around the house. Looks like things are going to get trickier from here on in.
I pull out one of my blades and wait to see who might come by first. I seem to have picked an out of the way part of the house. No one comes near immediately, and most of the commotion seems to be centring on the east side of the house. Ok, good intel. Looks like I need to head east for what I want.
Just as I step out from my hiding spot a pair of goons turns around the corner in front of me and then they stop dead. They look at me, then at each other. They seem shocked for a moment and then they both turn around and take off the way they came. I had just gotten into a comfortable fighting stance and their about-face surprises me.
"Mother fuck!" I yell as I start running to catch up with them before they can spread the alarm. "Get back here you pussies!"
I pull out a shuriken on the fly and luckily just as I turn the corner ahead of me I can still see the back of one of the retreating cowards. I don't have time to take aim, but I let my shuriken fly and smile as I'm rewarded with the meaty sound of contact. The asshole screams as he drops to the floor and I finish him with a quick slash of my blade as I speed past where he's writhing on the floor.
It looks like my successful hit has made the remaining goon think better of slowing down to call-in my presence. Right now he's booking it faster than I've ever seen a man of his weight and girth go before. Sometimes having my reputation isn't an advantage. I miss the days when I could lure in these assholes simply because I was 'just a little girl' and take them out without having to run the fuckers down. Oh well, the price of fame I guess.
He turns another corner ahead of me and I make the stupid mistake of following him blindly at full speed. I barrel around the corner and feel like I'm hit by a Mack truck before I fly back a few feet and land on my ass. My head is spinning a bit, but I immediately shake myself back to alertness and notice that my fat friend has found a few compatriots and one of them hit me with a chair that he's still wielding like a baseball bat. The other two have pulled their guns out of their holsters and are smiling, apparently looking forward to the chance to put a few extra holes in Hit-Girl, especially the guy whose buddy I just killed.
The one with the chair turns around and sneers at them. "Put those the fuck away you jack-asses! You know what he wants…go get her."
I get to my feet and breathe a silent sigh of relief as the two bozos holster their guns and slowly step towards me. These odds I can handle even if I'm still feeling a little woozy as long as I don't have to worry about one of them putting a bullet in my head from twenty feet away. It's obvious who 'he' is and doesn't take too much imagination to figure out what it is he wants. So I'm to be taken alive, am I? Good, then that means Dave is still alive too. I half consider letting the assholes take me themselves. It could save me a lot of wasted time searching around this damn mansion, but I'm not feeling quite that stupid yet. I have a good idea of where I need to go and letting them get the advantage of me, even if it's for purposes of my own, is never a good idea unless it's my last resort. I haven't quite gotten to that point yet.
"You get her!" the goon I had originally been chasing yells. "You're the one with the goddam chair!"
"Which means I can't grab her, right asshole?! Just do your fucking job Tony and get the stupid bitch. What is she gonna do?!"
"She killed Danny with a ninja star and a goddam sword, Gene, so I don't know what the fuck she could do! I do know I don't want to find out!"
His friend seems to agree and I'm a little disappointed at how sensible they're being. If no one is going to rush in stupidly how am I going to take care of these assholes quickly and move one? Worse, one of them might decide to pull out his gun and off me regardless of Chris' orders. Time for me to ratchet things up.
"Yeah that's right you fucking pussies, why don't you just step aside and go diddle your twats, or whatever it is you do when you're not sucking D'Amico's tiny little cock, and let me get on with things here?"
Bingo. At least one of them is stupidly macho enough to fall for it. The second goon who holstered his gun goes red in the face and charges me. That's all I need. Fuck, his reaction makes me think maybe they *do* suck Chris' dick in their spare time. I almost feel sorry for them.
"Billy wait you fuckin' stupid…" one of them starts saying, but by now Billy is close enough that I can easily duck his ham-handed swing at my head and I bury my balisong in his sternum. His face goes white with shock and he starts sucking in air like a wheezing accordion. While he starts shaking and blood begins pooling at his feet I grab him under the armpits and push him backwards into the guy with the chair who realizes too late what's going on and gets tangled in a heap of bleeding and screaming mobster. Man, I love a good meat shield!
As my original adversary- was it Tony? – looks on in shock while his compatriots go down I pull out my gun, quickly put a bullet in Gene's head and then swing it up to cover him as Billy finally stops wheezing and goes still.
"Just you and me again, eh Fat Tony? Do you mind if I call you Fat Tony?" I shrug, "Just seems appropriate given your size and profession."
Tony turns to look at me, shock still apparent on his features.
"Yeah," I say slowly, drawing out the word, "I'm Hit-Girl. It'd be better for all you fuckers if you remembered that more often."
Tony doesn't say anything, just stares at me with wide eyes.
I give him a minute to respond and when he doesn't I huff. "Alright shit-for-brains you're going to take me where I want to go or else you'll end up like your friends here."
"I will anyway," he mutters and I curse the fact that apparently I left the smart one alive. I narrow my eyes. "Okay then, I will kill you slowly and painfully if you don't listen to me…and who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky and somehow escape before I off you if you do as you're told." I shrug again, "No skin off my nose, but I guarantee you'll be lying in a pool of your own blood inside of ten agonizing minutes if you *don't* do what I want. Did Chris buy that much loyalty?" I arch my eyebrow at the question, though I'm sure the effect is lost behind the mask.
The thug doesn't have to think for long…luckily Chris is apparently not exactly a motivational employer. "What d'you want?" he mumbles.
"First drop your gun on the floor." As his hand reaches for his holster a smidge too quickly I add, "Slowly!" He drops it gingerly and I kick it out of the way as I move a few steps closer to him, my gun still trained on his ugly mug. "Now you're going to take me to where they're keeping Da – Kick-Ass." I don't know why I bother changing from his real name given what's happened, but I guess old habits die hard. "Oh, and make sure we don't 'accidentally' run into a few of your friends on the way; I'd hate to see your brains get splattered all over the wonderful décor a moment too soon."
It's pretty simple from there, which should have raised alarm bells, but as I've said I don't think I was exactly thinking clearly during this whole operation. Between worrying more about Dave than anything else I've ever been anxious about before, even Daddy in the warehouse, and having rage flashes about Trevor mixed in with images of Mr. L. lying dead on the floor all adding up to me imagining what I was going to do with Chris when I found him it's not surprising that I was more than a little distracted. Still I'm Hit-Girl, I expect better of myself.
That's why the fact that I get jumped from behind by three burly guys as we turn a corner and come near a stairway going down comes as a complete shock to me. I give the fuckers a good fight, but the angle is off and two of them are able to get my arms from behind and push me down to the ground before I can do much. At least I'm able to keep my promise to Fat Tony and put a bullet in his head before my gun is knocked out of my hand and I'm, for all intents and purposes, put out of commission. I growl and kick as the two fuckers lean on me with all their meaty bulk and manage to do some damage but it's not enough to get free.
One of them yanks hard on my arms, pulling them back and nearly out of the sockets and I let an involuntary cry escape my lips. Someone will pay for that. I scream and curse and kick, but it doesn't do any good and I'm furious with myself.
"You fuckers are all gonna die slowly, I promise!" I scream just as they get the damn electrical tape around my mouth. Fuck.