"You probably don't think I'm a very nice guy!" Ralph D'Amico growled. "Do ya!"
"Buddy, I think you're slime!" I said, in reply, from the floor where I was pinned.
D'Amico's cronies laughed.
"See I got this problem, vigilantes don't like me; so I don't like vigilantes!"
D'Amico tracked the pump-action shotgun across my body and blew off my right hand! I felt nothing, I was instantly in shock, then the pain hit full force and I couldn't breathe.
"Well give the girl a hand!" D'Amico laughed and walked off. "She's all yours!"
I managed to get back to my feet and started to hobble away, cradling my arm. The pain was beyond unbearable.
"Hey turn around!" I heard a voice say behind me.
I slowly turned to see four men.
One fired his shotgun, removing my right arm. I screamed and screamed. The other men started shooting, which overloaded my body armour and started cutting into my flesh.
"Does it hurt? Does it hurt?"
I sank to my knees, the pain was indescribable, then D'Amico came into my vision and raised a pistol, then I saw a flash...
The following weekend
Saturday, West Ridge
I woke up with a violent start.
I was quite literally dripping sweat.
Fuck!
That dream was surreal and so realistic, but I knew that it wasn't; it was a scene from RoboCop!
I knew watching R-rated movies when I was young, would come back to haunt me!
Why am I having nightmares about D'Amico killing me? The last time I had them was the week before he escaped from prison. Was I getting premonitions? If so, then did that last dream mean that I am gonna be seeing that bastard again soon?
I sat up and Dave reached over.
"Sweaty Hit Girl, nice!"
"Not now Dave, go back to sleep!"
I hated nightmares and was very glad to have Dave with me, when I had them, but this wasn't really a nightmare, it was just plain weird!
That evening
Southern Chicago
Kick-Ass and I were on patrol. Just the two of us; Josh was grounded for the weekend, as he had got behind on his homework. Chloe, well, she said that she had something else on.
Coming down the street I noticed somebody sitting on the ground, at the side of the building. As I got closer I was able to identify who it was.
"Shit! It's Megan!" I called. "I think she's hurt!"
I knelt down beside Megan. She was crying and had an enormous, very fresh, bruise on her left cheek. She looked up at me and tried to smile.
"What happened to you?" I growled.
"Some asshole upstairs! This place sucks, big time; it's full of druggies and other losers. I wish we could move, but my Mom works every hour she can and doesn't make much, so..."
"Come on! Show me where you live," I said and pulled Megan back to her feet, then turned to Kick-Ass. "You keep out of sight!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
I led the way and showed Hit Girl the way back to the apartment block, where my Mom and me lived.
As I came around the corner of the building that idiot was still there; the one who had hit me earlier on this evening.
"What the fuck did I say, you little shit? When I'm around, you're not! Want another fucking bruise, to match the first?"
"Fuck you, asshole!" I yelled back and felt the anger build inside of me.
"You little..."
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, cunt!" Hit Girl snarled malevolently, as she came around the corner and stood behind me and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. I just smiled smugly at the man.
"Hey! I want no trouble!"
"You beat up ten year-old girls! You've fuckin' got trouble, asshole!" Hit Girl growled, then ran forwards and let fly with her fists and floored the man. I followed up with a kick to his ribs. The other men ran off.
Hit Girl looked down at the man. "You ever hurt another living soul...," She growled.
"Never! I'm sorry, I really am!"
We ignored him and headed inside and climbed up two floors.
"Elevator's busted as usual," I explained, as we stopped outside a badly gouged and dented door. "Here we are!"
..._...
I used my key and opened the door, then pulled Hit Girl through into the kitchen.
"This is my Mom!" I said and waved vaguely. "Mom, this is Hit Girl!"
"Er... Hi... I'm Paige Wilson!" A rather startled, Mrs Wilson said. "Megan said she'd met you, but I wasn't inclined to believe her!"
"Your daughter got hit, rather hard this evening, so I took care of the idiot for her," Hit Girl explained.
"Thank you!"
Hit Girl looked around the apartment uneasily and then she knelt down in front of me.
"Take this!" Hit Girl said and pushed a card into my hand.
"Go to the address, on the back of the card; give the man there the card, he will sort you out."
I looked down at the card. It was purple (not a surprise there) with two, large, embossed letters: 'HG'. I saw the swish of a cape, out of the corner of my eye and when I looked up, Hit Girl was gone. I passed the card to my Mom, who took it and stared at it.
"We can trust them Mom and we will!" I insisted.
..._...
An hour later we climbed out of a cab at the address Hit Girl had provided; it was a large apartment building. A tall man was standing outside the main door; he smiled at me. I went up to him and felt more than a little apprehensive; I offered him the card.
"Come with me!" The man said. "I'm Marty!"
We followed Marty to the second floor, where he opened the door to apartment '202' and then passed the keys to my Mom.
"All yours! Any problems, give me a call on this," Marty said with a huge dorky grin and passed over a cell phone. "You will be one hundred percent safe here. The person who gave you that card protects this building, personally!"
I looked around quickly, it was a large two bedroom apartment and very clean! Nothing like the rat hole we used to live in and the elevator worked!
"We could never afford this!" Mom said to Marty.
"Pay what you can, don't pay what you can't! Take care Mrs Wilson, you too Megan!" Marty said, as he left.
My Mom sat down and cried, so I gave her a big hug.
"We're gonna be okay now, Mommy!"
"You know, you're never gonna make much of a profit out of these apartments!"
"I know, Marty, but that's what Hit Girl does, she helps people. I can't help everybody, but I'm gonna damn well do what I can!"
"Not just 'cause she's a 'Mini-Mindy'?"
"You've been talking to Dave, haven't you!"