Later that day
Wednesday, December 28th, 2016
Safehouse Q
Fourteen-year-old Kieran Brennan was surprised to find somebody he had not seen before sitting in the capacious kitchen and drinking coffee with Sarah and Rachel.
Kieran had to admit that the young woman was very, very hot with some of the most perfect curves the young teenager had seen in a long time. The visitor was too old to be a Predator, so he wondered who she was.
"Hello, Kieran," the woman said.
"You know my name?" Kieran asked in surprise.
"I know everything about you, Mr Brennan."
"Oh, hi, Mindy," Willow said as she followed Kieran into the kitchen.
"You know her?" Kieran asked.
"Of course," Willow replied without further elaboration.
"Willow, could you gather together your friends, but leave the rug rats in the basement?"
Willow grinned.
"Yes, Mindy."
..._...
A few minutes later, eight Predators, including Sarah, were gathered in the kitchen while Rachel had gone to keep an eye on her brother and Kendra.
Sarah closed and locked the kitchen door which was soundproof. Sarah then indicated Mindy to all those present.
"This is Mindy, guys, and you have all been living in her dungeon for the past few weeks," Sarah offered in introduction.
It took a few minutes for the declaration to sink in. Willow, of course, knew exactly who Mindy really was, but for the others, it took a minute.
"Fuck me!" thirteen-year-old Jesse Dolan exclaimed as the proverbial penny dropped with a spectacular clatter.
"I'll pass, thanks," Mindy grinned.
For the three sixteen-year-olds, Carrie Milligan, Joel Burnell, and Jay Hilton, it was a major shock and their faces showed it. Fourteen-year-old Dylan Page and Kieran were grinning enormously.
"I never knew that Hit Girl was so fucking hot!" Kieran exclaimed.
Willow slapped Kieran around the back of the head, eliciting a loud yell of pain.
"What was that for?"
"Be nice!" Willow ordered.
Mindy felt her cheeks colouring up a bit at the compliment.
"I am here to congratulate you all on your actions and behaviour, last night. You all showed how a Predator behaves under battle conditions and you handled the unbriefed excursion without a hitch."
There were big smiles from the teenagers as they absorbed the unexpected compliments from such a famous individual.
"You have all proven that you can be trusted, and I believe that you have atoned for your misdeeds with FEAR. Never forget the bad decisions you made, and you should never take such a bad turn again. You are no longer living in that subterranean hellhole of mine and you are able to enjoy the comfort of my safehouse with Sarah. Each one of you now has a choice to make. You each have a future and I am willing to help you all with that future. Over the next week or so, I will be speaking to each one of you and I will have some choices to offer. For now, please enjoy your freedom and I thank you for your assistance, last night."
For once, they were all speechless and Sarah laughed.
Safehouse F
The young thirteen-year-old Juno Richmond had wanted a peaceful afternoon to relax, only her mentor had other ideas.
Juno was barefoot on the sparring mat wearing only shorts and a T-shirt. Facing her were Guinevere and Lucy. Juno did not appear to happy with the arrangement.
"This is your way of punishing me, right?" Juno ventured tentatively.
"No, honey, we just want to tweak your skills a bit," Guinevere reassured the younger girl.
"I want to see what you can really do, Juno," Lucy added.
Juno was put through her paces by Lucy, working up from slow sparring to faster, more complex movements. Lucy ensured that Juno was kept within her limits while Guinevere watched to ensure that things did not get out of hand; Lucy had no desire to hurt Juno.
"Keep tings smooth, Juno . . . that's better," Lucy aid encouragingly as she easily defended herself against Juno's attack.
The youngster was very good at fighting, however, there were times when certain movements were not so smooth, and they were a little disconnected. Juno would often use a perfectly valid, but often technically incorrect, attack or defence which made the girl unpredictable. That was good, Lucy knew, to a point. The incorrect movements often laid Juno open for a split-second counterattack. Lucy made that point very clear as she caught Juno's left ankle and flipped the young teen over onto her back.
Lucy was very impressed by the angry fire burning in Juno's eyes as the youngster regained her feet without a moment's hesitation. Lucy could see that she had pressed a button and ignited anger within Juno. The tempo increased as Juno pushed forward, attacking Lucy with everything she had. Lucy only became more impressed at the skills shown by Juno as she attacked. Lucy found countering the strikes harder, but not impossible. Then Guinevere chose to increase the odds in Juno's favour by throwing a pair of wooden training batons to her mentee. Lucy scowled at her former pupil, but she readied herself for the onslaught, nonetheless.
Juno did not hold back as she struck with the batons. Lucy had to up her game to avoid the painful strikes from the weapons. However, Lucy was a master while Juno still had a long way to go. It did not take long for Juno to lose one of her batons to Lucy who then took the younger girl to task. Lucy was determined to teach Juno important lessons where fighting was concerned. Lessons which might very well save her life. Guinevere hated seeing Juno on the receiving end of a beat down, but it was the best way for Juno to learn. The youngster yelled out in pain as she was struck once, twice, three times on her thighs by Lucy's baton. Her anger grew as she retaliated, however, Juno began losing control and Lucy easily batted away the incoming baton strikes. Lucy could see that Juno was trying too hard and Lucy could see the tears of frustration at failing.
Lucy swiftly drew things to a close by taking a baton to Juno's chest and then her left thigh, flipping the left leg up and causing Juno to fall flat on her back. Before the youngster could get back to her feet, Lucy held Juno down with her baton in the centre of the younger girl's chest.
"Easy now," Lucy said as she saw the tears of defeat flood down Juno's face.
Lucy released Juno who sat up and looked over at Guinevere.
"You did very well, honey," her mentor said reassuringly.
"I lost."
"You were fighting Lucy – Lucy does not lose," Guinevere stated.
Lucy held out a hand to Juno and she hauled the youngster to her feet.
"Well done, Juno. You have some well-honed skills which I am certain will improve over time."
"Thanks, Lucy."
Memorial Park Cemetery
Chloe had headed out alone that afternoon.
There was someone she needed to be with. The snow was coming down a lot heavier and she had resorted to using a Land Rover Defender 90 which Mindy kept for such situations. The vehicle was fitted with chunky snow tyres and was able to maintain grip with its advanced four-wheel-drive system. She walked the final eighty yards to her destination and she stood very still as she looked down.
"Hi, Mom. Just wanted to say Happy Christmas and Happy New Year – that kind of thing. . .," the sixteen-year-old's voice faltered, "I miss you, Mommy."
Chloe stared at the gravestone in front of her for several minutes.
Catherine Bennett
b. June 8th, 1974
d. October 16th, 2016
Beloved Wife, Mother, and Aunt
Gone from this mortal earth
But never to be forgotten
It had been a few weeks since Chloe had last visited her mother's grave and as such, she felt ashamed for not having come sooner.
"I'm sorry I've not been back for a while, life has been very busy of late. My darling little girl is a nightmare to handle. Between her and Joshua, I seem to spend my entire life picking up discarded knickers, socks, boxer shorts, pants, and T-shirts. They are both slobs! But I love them both, more than anything. Becky caused trouble, a few nights back. She's fearless, but that's the problem, I suppose. Mindy thinks Becky's got serious mental problems . . . I suppose it takes one nut to know another, right?"
Chloe laughed out loud at that comment.
"Seriously, though, I'm really worried about that girl. Yes, she's wacko, but so am I when you think about it. I used to enjoy running about totally naked without a care in the world and I never cared who saw me that way. Becky loves to be nude, so I let her – is that the right thing to allow, Mom? Joshua thinks it's cute, but I'm not so sure, to be honest. Joshua says that I worry too much . . . maybe I do. Riley says I'm an amazing mother and partner, but she's just nuts, although I do listen to her. Avery puts up with my ramblings at school and she's a lifesaver when I need a babysitter. I really miss having you around to guide me, Mom."
Chloe went silent for a minute as she contemplated her life. Chloe barely noticed it at first, but the chill of her snowy surroundings began to recede, and she suddenly began to feel warm, just as if somebody was giving her a hug. Somehow, the hug felt intimately familiar and she smiled happily as she relished the warmth. After several minutes, the warmth began to fade, and Chloe found herself back in the freezing cold.
"Love you, Mom."
Safehouse F
"You need to focus more, Juno."
"I am focussing!"
"No, you're letting your mind drift," Lucy responded as she circled the youngster. "You also have a tendency to telegraph your next move."
"I suck!" Juno complained.
"No, you don't!" Lucy responded. "Look, I've taught a hundred kids, just like you – I taught Guinevere when she was a scared little ten-year-old."
"Guinny is never scared."
"She used to cry every damn day – a fucking wet blanket," Lucy replied. "However, she sorted herself out and she became an amazing fighter. Every kid I taught had issues to overcome and they overcame them – you can do the same, Juno."
Juno scowled as she focussed on her task. Each time she tried to attack the circling Lucy, her strike was swatted away like it was nothing more than a mere annoyance to Lucy. Juno paused for a moment before she moved slightly to her left but struck from her right – her fist struck Lucy in the chest, just below her left breast.
"Good, shot!" Lucy grinned – she had seen the feint, but she had played along.
Juno grinned. A little praise always helped, and it was an improvement, Lucy reasoned.
"Okay, let's ramp this up," Lucy decided as she stopped circling Juno and she pulled a bandana from her shorts.
"What are you doing – I can't see?" Juno wailed as Lucy tied the bandanna around Juno's head and across her eyes.
"That is the general idea," Lucy chuckled.
"I don't get it."
"You use your eyes too much."
"What sort of a response is that? Of course, I use my eyes."
"One thing I've noticed, is that you don't listen."
"I do – oh."
"Your eyes are very important, yes, but you have other senses. You need to listen to an attacker – that will allow you to identify an attacker when you cannot see an inch in front of your nose. Use your nose – I stink right now; sweat related. Use that."
Juno felt slightly ridiculous standing on a mat, a blindfold blocking her sight, and Lucy standing before her . . . no, Lucy was no longer in front of her; she had moved. Juno focused all of her concentration on the sounds her ears picked up and the smells in her nostrils. Initially, her ears were filled with the persistent sound of the air conditioning which pervaded the safehouse, but as she sharpened her senses, as she really listened, she was able to pick out other sounds. She heard someone clearing their throat – that was Guinny. She filed that away as the sound was not close. She sniffed the air – the oily smell of the air conditioning system entered her nostrils, followed by the smell of sweat – actually, sweat does not smell; instead, it is the bacteria breaking down the sweat secretions. However, some of that smell was her own body odour . . . no . . . there was another smell . . . it was moving to her left less than a foot away.
The young teen was about to move when she stopped. She planned out what she was going to do in her mend before she tensed up her muscles and she lashed out with her left arm. It was a miss, only she was certain that she had felt something whisk past her arm, so she had been close – very close. Juno refocused her hearing . . . then, she simply reacted as she heard a movement and she brought up her right arm instinctively. She felt her arm block another arm and then she brought her left down, knocking away the next strike. Juno heard the sound of bare feet pounding on the mat and she swiftly brought up her right leg to chest height and she heard a yell of pain as somebody cannoned into the sole of her elevated foot. That was when Juno's world flipped over, and she crashed to the mat.
Juno felt the bandanna being pulled off her face and she blinked in the bright lights. Then Lucy's grinning face came into view along with a hand to pull Juno to her feet. Juno took it and once she was vertical, she looked over at Guinevere who was sitting on the mat, rubbing her sore chest and giving the younger girl a nasty glare.
"You're gonna go far, Juno Richmond."
Three days later
Saturday, December 31st
19:06
Training Centre Echo
They were about to deploy onto the streets for the New Year when there came a sudden announcement over the tannoy.
"Hit Girl to the Battle Bunker! Hit Girl to the Battle Bunker!"
Mindy bolted out of the dining room like a cat on fire and she sprinted the entire way to the elevator where she pounded on the button. It seemed to take an age for the elevator to arrive before she dived inside, the moment the door was cracked wide enough and she pounded the relevant button on the panel. Again, after what seemed like an age, the elevator doors opened, and Mindy bolted for the Battle Bunker. On entering, Mindy noticed that Abby was ashen-faced when she stepped into the Battle Bunker.
"Well?" Mindy asked.
"Just before midnight, local time, Vengeance was attacked in Glasgow," Abby said. "Heavy weapons were used, but the armour on their vehicles held. However, . . ."
Abby paused, and Mindy saw that Abby had been crying.
"Naomi took a pilum through the back and out her front . . . she's currently being treated in intensive care at a special unit in Glasgow. It was believed to be Bowman's men."
Mindy felt the blood draining from her own face and she closed her eyes for a moment to steady herself. She could not believe it – Vengeance had been through so much and after Harper, for more harm to come to them. . . Her initial thoughts were to cancel the night's outing, but that would be giving into the enemy.
"Send a message to Los Angeles, warning them of the potential for an attack. Notify every member of Fusion, including Synthesis. I want everybody on lockdown, every safehouse, right the hell now."
With that Mindy turned and she left the Battle Bunker.
..._...
"Stage Three lockdown! Stage Three lockdown!"
Abby's voice rang throughout every occupied safehouse and all doors closed and locked. At that level, there were fix stages of lockdown, all doors would remain locked until released by a palmprint or access card. The announcement and locking of doors, completely out of the blue, worried many.
"What the fuck!" Stephanie growled as she heard every door within twenty feet locking itself.
"What did you do?" Abigail asked her friend.
"It wasn't fucking me!" Stephanie retorted defensively. "I've not pilfered so much as a firing pin in weeks!"
"Forgive me if I don't believe you," Abigail hissed back. "Evidence says otherwise."
..._...
An hour later there was a lot of pent up anger and rage as Fusion deployed onto the streets of Chicago.
They had all been briefed on Vengeance and a colleague who was, even then, fighting for her young life. The word had gone out to everybody and Battle Guy had launched both of his drones high above the city to monitor for any danger. Synthesis was on alert as they assisted Battle Guy and Hal with their protective measures. Everybody knew that they were not invincible. Their combat suits enabled them to fight harder and for longer, but that was it. The armour could protect them from knives and bullets, but it was not invincible. Injury was part of their lives and an inevitable result of being a vigilante. Death, on the other hand, had stalked the Predators and Hit Girl for many years but it was relatively new to those who had not had their lives ruined by mobsters or their government. Nobody considered the ultimate fate which could befall them at any time. Some were ready, but nobody knew when it might actually happen. Knowing that a colleague was at death's door had brought the ultimate fate to the front burner. The usual crude banter was limited, and most were simply concentrating on the task at hand. Someone had declared war on Vengeance, and by extension, Fusion.
That had pissed everybody off and it was ultimately the reason why Hit Girl and Psyche were causing shit down an alleyway off South Wells Street.
South Wells Street
Hit Girl and Psyche
The man crashed backwards against the dumpster before rebounding back into the hands of Psyche.
"I want information, and I want it now, dickhead!" Psyche growled as she grasped the man, twice her size, by the jaw with an iron grip.
"I don't know anything about any attack."
"You're lying!" the electronically enhanced voice responded, scaring the man to the core.
The man scrunched his eyes shut as he felt the boot connect with his already bruised abdomen. Life as a snitch on the streets of Chicago could be very rewarding – at times. However, when Hit Girl was on the rampage for information, snitches scuttled for safety like cockroaches on a kitchen floor as the lights came on. Even worse – if that was even possible – Hit Girl's sidekick, Psyche, was a real chip off the old block. For the majority of snitches, word had gone around that Psyche's requests were to be treated as if they were from Hit Girl herself. That word had kept many alive and without serious injury. While Hit Girl had no problem getting her hands dirty, she enjoyed watching her daughter go to work. There was something about watching a ten-year-old girl beat the living crap out of grown men that Hit Girl enjoyed watching. So far, it was promising. They had found a thread and they were slowly pulling at it until they found what they wanted. There were two snitches seeking medical help already and Psyche was in no mood to accept 'no' for an answer.
"Okay, okay!"
Psyche stepped back from the man as he raised both hands in defeat.
"I heard that somebody wants to do you guys harm . . . the plans were fucked up by your takedown a few days back."
Hit Girl nodded. The information matched that which they had already extracted that evening. The warehouse attack, of earlier that week, had been fortuitous, to say the least. It appeared that the AR-15s had been gathered for Fusion's benefit.
"When you made a mess of their operation, they moved to a plan B . . . I suggest you try Hank Singer – he just sold a shitload of explosives and he's been bragging about his windfall."
"Thank you for your time – have a nice night!" Psyche growled as she pulled on her helmet and mounted her motorcycle. "You got nothing to say, purple stuff?"
"You handled it fine," Hit Girl chuckled as they accelerated away.
Two miles to the east
North Loomis Street
Hank Singer was a tall, muscular man, and he sold his skills to the highest bidder.
His skills generally revolved around destroying things – not a great deal dissimilar to Hit Girl's skills, really. Singer was an explosives expert and he had no scruples about what he blew up. He had been overjoyed when he had been asked to supply a large quantity of explosives. He had also sold his expertise and after a day's hard graft, the man had sat back to watch the night's action. Through his binoculars, he watched as a large armoured SUV which he recognised as HOUND, lumbered through the snow before it pulled up outside what used to be one of his workshops. The doors opened, and four vigilantes climbed out. He recognised the green and yellow of Kick-Ass, himself. The vigilante leader was joined by another vigilante clad in a brown and orange combat suit – Foxtail. The blue combat suit with grey tiger stripes of the third vigilante indicated that they had been joined by Stormtide. As for the fourth – that was a very pleasant sight, the man thought happily – the browns indicated the presence of Wildcat.
Why he wanted to target Wildcat was a closely-held memory. Fusion had cost him much, and Wildcat more than the rest. It had been his brother. Wildcat had almost cut him in half with her blade. Okay, his brother had been in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . and he had been fighting against Fusion . . . but, Singer happily held a grudge, and he was determined to get payback. He grinned as he watched Wildcat move closer and closer to a rusting Toyota parked at the side of the street. The female vigilante was not checking out the car, but instead, she was looking down the alley which led to the rear of Singer's workshop. Stormtide held a G36C assault rifle in her hands as she moved to backup Wildcat. Kick-Ass and Foxtail were busy conferring, as far as Singer could make out, and they were a distance from the Toyota with their armoured SUV between them and the Toyota.
He switched his attention back to Wildcat and Stormtide. They were both moving away from the Toyota as they checked out the street. That would not do, Singer decided as he picked up a black box from a table beside his chair. He flicked up a safety catch on the box and a red LED illuminated.
The man was smiling as he pressed the guarded button . . . a green LED flashed twice and illuminated steadily.
Hit Girl and Psyche
As the two vigilantes pulled up, they could see the other team securing the immediate area.
However, something was not right.
"I don't like this," Psyche muttered.
"I think something is about to go very wrong," Hit Girl agreed.
There was something about the atmosphere that had peaked the two highly-trained assassins. They could sense the danger. They could sense that something was about to happen – something serious.
"Down!" Hit Girl radioed. "Get the fuck down!"
As per their training, Kick-Ass and his team dropped to the snow at the first word. Singer was a little slow off the mark as he noticed that he seemed to have been rumbled, just as he had pressed the button. He saw Hit Girl and Psyche just at the moment the world came apart.
Actually, it was the Toyota which came apart.
Wildcat
The heat was almost unbearable and the twelve-year-old struggled to breathe.
The explosion had knocked her the final few inches to the snow and her chest plate had taken the brunt of the impact with the hard snow. The sound was deafening as the explosive force rolled across the young girl. Her mind told her that it was a bomb, but she had no idea what had just blown up. Wildcat knew that she was still alive – you could not feel heat or hear sound if you were dead. Her next thoughts were for the others. Where were they? As she rolled onto her side, she saw the burning pyre which the cheap Toyota automobile now was. It was very close – and very hot. Sections of wreckage were scattered across the street, many burning fiercely and melting sections of snow. The closest building was wrecked, its brick front having collapsed into the street. Slowly, Wildcat became aware of sound in her earpiece.
"Wildcat, report!"
It was Psyche's voice.
"I'm here," Wildcat forced out as she rolled onto her back.
"Come on, up you get."
It was with immense relief that Wildcat felt a hand on her arm, pulling at her. Wildcat allowed Psyche to pull her to back her feet and the two girls looked at the devastation around them.
"It wasn't me," Wildcat said quickly.
"We know," Hit Girl commented. "Kick-Ass, report!"
Kick-Ass and Foxtail
Foxtail was not happy as she pushed a section of vehicular bodywork off her thigh and looked around.
It was the second bomb that she had survived, and she did not expect fate to allow her the privilege of surviving a third. She was also annoyed as she had just recovered from a serious injury and the extra bruises were not welcome on her body.
"You okay, Foxtail?"
"Yeah," Foxtail replied as she was helped to her feet by Kick-Ass. "You?"
"Could have done without the explosion but I'm alive."
"Kick-Ass, report!"
"Kick-Ass is still online, my sweet."
"Foxtail is a little singed and bruised, but still online, too."
Stormtide
"Stormtide is not too happy, but she's still in one piece."
Stormtide had been screened from the main force of the explosion by the alleyway but the sound had been deafening when focussed between the brick walls. The girl emerged to find Wildcat being hauled to her feet by Psyche.
"Good to see you, Stormy!" Hit Girl offered in greeting.
Stormy simply waved.
"What the hell was that?" Wildcat demanded.
"I think that was Singer flexing his muscles," Kick-Ass considered.
"We're close," Hit Girl growled as she looked around before focussing on a building about three hundred yards distant.
Psyche nodded. "Perfectly placed. That's where the bastard is," she decided.
North Loomis Street
Hank Singer was not happy.
None of his targets had died – none even appeared injured, much to his annoyance. Even worse, Hit Girl and that scrawny little runt, Psyche, had looked almost directly at him. Wisely, Singer decided that it was time to move – he had misjudged his attack very badly. He should have used a time delay and run, or even a remote camera, but no, he had had to watch it live. Stupid, so stupid, he thought to himself, over and over again, as he scrambled to pack up everything that he could easily fit into a single rucksack. But he was smart, and he would leave a few gifts for Hit Girl. He had already left several devices along his planned escape route, ready for an escape. It had been Hit Girl's arrival which had saved those damned vigilantes.
How could Hit Girl have known?
While Kick-Ass organised a perimeter, Hit Girl and Psyche raced towards the building.
Both were cautious, and both were well-trained where explosives were concerned. They knew that they were facing a master bombmaker and that he probably knew they were coming, and it was fairly safe to assume that the man would have rigged up one or two boobytraps for them. Both girls went up the external fire escape of the five-storey building. There was no hope with finding the man's apartment – that would be a job for the bomb squad who were already rolling – instead, they were there to flush the bastard out. He would run – who the hell wouldn't with Hit Girl on their trail.
True to form, the cowardly bastard was just leaving his apartment having set an explosive gift for the next person to open the door. Hank Singer cursed his timing as a door at the far end of the fourth-floor burst open and he saw the armoured form of Psyche appear just as the elevator doors opened. The bullets from Psyche's pistols narrowly missed the cowardly bastard as he dove inside the elevator and feverishly stabbed the button for the basement carpark. Psyche had been fast as he just saw the vigilante appearing as the doors slammed shut and the elevator began to drop. He thought he was clear, only he knew not the ingenuity of a Phase 2 Predator.
Psyche drew her Sais and she levered open the lift doors, exposing the lift shaft. She jammed them open with her field knife before stowing her Sais, then she yanked out her knife, stowed it, and jumped into the darkness, grasping the lift cable and relying on her gauntlets and boots to slow her descent. Singer jumped out of his skin as something thudded into the roof of the elevator. Instinctively, the man pulled a .45-calibre pistol and he fired off all eight bullets from the magazine into the elevator's roof panels. With his attention above, the man never realised that the elevator had reached the basement and he turned to find something enormous blocking his way. Singer pulled the trigger of his pistol again and again, but the magazine was still empty.
"Out of bullets, huh?" Kick-Ass asked. "Shit out of luck, too!"
Singer never felt his head strike the aluminium wall of the elevator – he was out cold long before then. The roof hatch of the elevator was then opened, and Psyche dropped through. For a moment, the girl examined the prone form.
"You know, lifts are normally very safe," Psyche commented as she stepped out of the elevator.
"You know, you're supposed to travel inside the elevator," Kick-Ass pointed out.
"The bastard left without me."
..._...
The bomb squad was on site within fifteen minutes and with Psyche being able to point out the fourth floor as a good place to start, Singer's apartment had been identified very quickly and breached without a problem once the CPD had cleared everybody out.
The Chicago Fire Department was busy putting out the fire from the first bomb while the CPD had also cordoned off a wide area to check for further explosives. It was a success, but it could have ended much worse. Hit Girl hated bombs – they were dangerous and unpredictable – but she still used them as they were very useful for both defensive and offensive purposes. She preferred directional explosives which were much more predictable and safer to operate.
Hit Girl was very proud of Psyche for her actions – and of Kick-Ass, of course.
Sunday, January 1st, 2017
Aon Centre (1,136-ft above Chicago)
The New Year was but an hour old as they gathered atop the 83-storey building with fresh white snow billowing around them.
"What's wrong, honey?"
Rogue looked up at her mother.
"This time last year, I had no idea who you really were. This time last year, I was so scared – I thought that I was going to die."
"It was a very difficult time for you, honey," Hit Girl replied as she felt the guilt for losing Anne-Marie in Guadeloupe.
Rogue then looked over to where Psyche stood at the parapet, looking down. The youngster walked over to her sister and she took Psyche's hand.
"Thank you," Rogue said.
Psyche looked down at her little sister and she grinned beneath her mask. Psyche had just been thinking the very same things. One year ago, she had been fighting alongside Wildcat in some Caribbean jungle on a private island, battling to rescue the very same little girl who stood beside her.
"You're very welcome, Rogue."
For Ravage, he had also learnt who his parents really were, along with everyone else. That had been the beginning of a wild ride ultimately culminating in he and his sister having their first kills in Europe a few months later. For Rage, it was the start of a new year. It was to be a year where he was free – no longer running and looking over his shoulder. He had his life back. He had his big sister back. He had a family. The boy joined his sisters at the parapet just as his little brother, Ravage, did the same. The two pairs of kids, both with very different backgrounds and nationalities, were joined by the desire to live. All four kids had lost their parents, but they had been taken in by a young woman who most would not generally consider suitable for motherhood. The events of just a year before had demonstrated how far that young woman would go to protect her family. A family which had begun with the twins, then escalated to a trio, before a fourth had completed the set.
Kick-Ass and Hit Girl believed themselves to be the proudest parents in the city – the city which the six of them protected.
..._...
A show distance away on the east side of the same snow-covered rooftop, Shadow grinned as she stood with Jackal standing beside her and Scamp in front of her.
It was an amazing sight – Hit Girl, Kick-Ass, Psyche, Rage, Rogue, Ravage; the whole tribe standing atop a building, surveying their snow-covered territory. So much had occurred since the previous year – not all of it good, of course, but some of it had been amazing. Shadow was sad in that her mother was not around to see in the New Year. But she was in a better place, along with Dave's parents, and many others.
What might 2017 have for them – it could not be any worse than 2016.
On a slightly different plane
"Happy New Year! Do I get a kiss Cathy?"
"You're drunk, again, Damon," Cathy Bennett pointed out.
"I miss my daughter – is there a problem with that, Doc?"
"No, I suppose not."
"Who gave him booze - again?" Jocelyn Reeman asked.
"Might have been me," James Lizewski muttered as he held his glass up to Jocelyn.
"Or me," Mark Reeman admitted. "Probably me."
"Mark, you know Damon isn't allowed alcohol – he does stupid things when he's drunk."
"Last year, he kissed James," Alice Lizewski chuckled.
"That was a sight," Kathleen Macready agreed.
"I am so damn proud of my two kids," Ed Jamieson said quietly as he observed the gathering atop the Chicago Aon Centre. "I am so proud of how Mindy has brought them up."
"So am I," Kathleen agreed.
"It's so amazing to see them both alive and well," Jocelyn commented.
"Knowing that they are so well looked after is a real weight off our shoulders," Mark said.
"You may have fucked up ninety per cent of Mindy, Damon," James conceded. "But she is a damn strong woman – so you did get something right."
"He's right, Damon," Kathleen grudgingly admitted. "She's stronger than me, so she must have got that from her Dad."
Damon blinked a few times at that comment.
"That's the nicest thing you've said to me in a long time, honey," Damon finally replied.
"Come on, people, let's see just a little bit of happiness – how about some Auld Lang Syne, eh?"
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Author's Note: We pick up with Team San Diego in my other story, Fusion: Los Angeles – Chapter 13: Back in The Saddle.