Author's Note: First fanfic, saw there wasn't much Kick Ass stuff out there and think Dave and Mindy are really great characters. Just figured I'd add to what's out there for people who like to read about these characters, since crap like Twilight has something like 10,000 more stories out than our beloved characters do… Everything you need to know should be in the description or come out in the story. Dave is 22 and Mindy almost 18. It's a 4 year age gap based on how old the actress was when Kick Ass came out and how old I imagine Dave was supposed to be at the time. I also read that 4 years is the alleged age gap in the new movie. Be kind.
Also, I don't own any of the characters or the overall world. That's pretty obvious I think.
The cold wind whipping up onto the club's rooftop is enough to send shivers down my spine, but I barely notice. My focus is too intense, set on the drying red film of plasma that is starting to harden into an ominous sheen along the sides of my batons. Digging the black sticks into the soft rubber of the roof for support, my body crouches down to rest against the wall housing the stairwell that dips down into the night club below. I am tired, not just physically but emotionally. Doing this night after night for over six years, while once exciting and fulfilling, is starting to wear on me.
"Hey" her voice comes echoing up the stairwell as she approaches. Her footsteps halt at the entrance when she sees the pile of bodies sitting before her. They have long been dead. I know I should've come back downstairs to help her finish up inside, but I knew she'd have it covered, and I'm just so tired. "I see you caught up to them" she laughs, kicking one of the bodies out of her way before tossing a bag of cash to me. I barely have time to right myself and catch it before it hits me in the face.
"Yea" I answer distractedly as I sling the bag over my shoulder and get up to follow her. My halfhearted response earns me a concerned look that is accentuated by the black strip of cloth ghosting over her eyes in a veiled attempt at concealing her true identity. Her eyes bunch, causing the fabric to raise and wrinkle in a look that most would deem adorable if it weren't filled with so much worry… and caked in the blood of dozens. That expression is becoming more frequent, she can tell something is wrong with me.
Stepping over the pile of beaten bodies, one man's head pounded into such a fine mush that it resembles a thick soup rather than the skull and brain matter it really is, she moves to my side and grabs my arm tightly as I start to move away, spinning me so that I face her. "What's up your ass?" she asks, forgoing any type of teasing or name calling which is a sure sign she's really worried.
"Nothing, I'm good" I assure her, turning myself away before she can see too much. "Everything taken care of?"
"Yea…" she answers hesitantly, "nothing left but corpses. All the money is in there "she gestures to the bag over my shoulder. "Fucking pussies didn't even see us coming" she smiles. "You ready?"
"Of course" I try to smile back, but it comes out more as a grimace. I only hope that my mask conceals how forced the expression really is. It doesn't.
"Seriously, what's up Dave?" she pries once more as we climb down the fire escape and start to walk the five blocks over where she parked the now purple and green former Mist Mobile.
Mindy had gotten it redone when she got her license a year and a half ago, claiming she was tired of walking everywhere and that the car would be more convenient. I knew she just had an itch to drive fast and make me dizzy though. Marcus begrudgingly agreed to the restore, as long as Mindy bought a more practical car for when she wasn't in costume. She hates that Prius, though, and finds a reason to drive the Mustang whenever she can. I must admit, it was poetic when she used the garish thing to pop Chris D'Amico's head like a pimple against the pavement. It was hilarious at the time, we both broke into fits of laughter when he was finally done with, but now that I think about it that moment meant much more than I realized back then. It wasn't just the culmination of our vendettas. It was also the beginning of the end for me. With Chris out of the way and Justice Forever avenged, all of this started to have less… meaning than it did before.
"Nothing Mindy, just tired is all."
"Uh huh" she says disbelievingly, the subtle beep of the car's alarm disarming as we pile into the vehicle. We've done this song and dance for the last six months and I can tell it's getting old for her. I know I can't let her do this alone, but I can't bring myself to want to do it either. It's a catch 22. When I was done with my applications I really did try putting myself back into this, for her, but I just can't seem to do it. Something feels empty inside of me. I don't know what is missing, but it's something.
"You're acting like a douche lately and I want to know why!" she finally shouts when the first five minutes of our drive is made in silence, my eyes focused out the window the entire time.
Looking over at her, I can't summon the energy to seem surprised by her outburst but I know she deserves some sort of answer. With a sigh, I shake my head and respond "I'm sorry Mindy. I've just got a lot on my plate right now with graduation coming up and shit. I'll be good, don't worry."
"It's more than that" she insists. "I have graduation coming up too, you know? Not to mention the fact Marcus fucking forced me to apply to colleges and is pushing my ass to take that NYU scholarship. So nut up and be a man!" she insists, though the upturn of her lip suggests she is more teasing me than really chastising.
"Maybe you should do it" I say halfheartedly.
"The NYU scholarship, maybe you should take it."
"Why the fuck would I do that?!" she yells into the small cabin.
"Because it's a good school and you're a brilliant girl. It's a great opportunity."
"Maybe I don't want it" she says belligerently, her eyes now focused completely on the road.
I stare at her closely after that, her lips turned down and puckered in an insolent frown. She really has grown into a beautiful woman. If a part of me could forget the little girl she was when I met her, I might even say she's the most breathtaking human being I've ever met. Her long blonde hair is poking out from beneath her tiny purple wig and her bold blue eyes are accentuated by the strip of black cloth surrounding them. Her body has filled out to that of an adult as well, though her height has hardly increased since I met her. She's not much taller than 5 feet and I doubt she's more than 105 lbs. of pure muscle, but her chest and other features are definitely adult.
"Why are you staring at me?" she asks after I've apparently been looking for too long.
"You've grown up. You're a woman now. You're beautiful, smart, strong, and a good person. I just wish you'd figure that out for yourself and maybe try to have some semblance of normalcy."
Her lips stop puckering and turn up into a wide smile at my words. I can tell I've gotten myself out of the doghouse with my compliments, even though I didn't actually refute my earlier statement. NYU is part of that normalcy I wish for her.
"Really?" she grins.
"Really" I laugh tiredly as I lay my head back against the headrest and close my eyes. "Why don't you have a boyfriend anyways? I bet you could get any guy you want" I state.
I can hear her smile fall in the tone of her voice as she mutters lowly "Not any guy", but I'm not sure I was meant to hear it. Also not sure what she means by it. Any guy would be lucky to have her; I just haven't heard her express interest in anyone.
Before I can ask her what she means, the car pulls into the garage of our old abandoned auto shop in Yonkers and the large metal door closes behind us. Lights flicker on once the door is settled shut, illuminating the safe house we bought and have been renovating for the last three years. The walls were once crumbling plaster sick with mold but Marcus, my dad, and I replaced it all with cinder blocks and covered those with reinforced steel. It's smaller inside now, with those renovations, but safer too. I painted over the metal in purple per Mindy's request. The lift of the garage is now in working order and Marcus is slowly showing me how to make repairs to the old Mist Mobile, which Mindy now calls "The Hit Ass Wagon". I told her it makes it sound like a pimp's car, but she doesn't seem to care.
Opening the door to what used to be the garage's waiting room/lobby, we flick on several lamps that cast a warm glow on what is practically a comfortable panic room at this point. The windows and walls are covered in bullet proof metal and the windows are reinforced with heavy bars just in case. From the outside the shop still looks rundown, the plywood boards over the windows secured in place as a veneer over our reinforcements to preserve the façade of disrepair, but inside it's really coming together.
The floors are a clean green tile leading into plush purple carpet where the king sized bed, a flat screen on a simple stand, dressers, and a mini fridge sits. Off to the left, the old office and desk near the garage has been demolished and repurposed into the old bathroom to make room for a full bath with shower and a long sterile table for medical emergencies. A small stove, microwave, and bucket sinks round out the room in the back, seemingly out of place but there in case we need to stay here overnight and cook.
Tossing the keys to the "Ass Wagon" onto a nearby table, Mindy rips the sash from her eyes and the wig from her head before tossing them with the keys and turning on me with a disapproving glare. "Something is up with you that you aren't telling me" she accuses while starting to strip out of her outfit.
I avert my eyes when it becomes clear she's wearing nothing but a set of purple lacy underwear underneath her costume. She always does this too, ever since I can remember. It's like she enjoys making me squirm.
"Chill out Mindy" I say with my back to her and eyes on the floor so I won't be tempted to watch her reflection in the glass that separates the garage from the living area. "I told you, I just have a lot on my plate."
"And I told you" she says, her voice sounding even more irritated now that I turned my back on her, "that I do too. That's no excuse to be an asshole to me!" There's more ruffling from behind me and I try to think of something to say, but the sound of the shower in the other room turning on and the curtain being yanked open then shut tells me she's gotten tired of waiting for my response.
The bathroom door is open as per usual, even though I beg her to close it when she showers, and I go to lean on the wall just outside the door. "I'm sorry Mindy!" I shout into the room over the sound of water hitting skin. "I don't mean to be an asshole to you. You know I care about you more than anything, I just don't know what's wrong with me lately!" I say honestly.
She's quiet for a long tick, making me question whether she even heard me. I know she has a temper, and a tendency to ignore me when I've upset her past a certain point. Hell, she's spent countless days and weeks training with me without saying a word just to prove a point when I've seemingly done something wrong, just waiting for an apology. She's like a fucking Buddhist monk when she takes that vow of silence… You know, aside from all the killing.
My worries are slightly dissuaded when she does respond finally. "I care about you too Dave" she says as the squeaking of the knobs turning sounds out and the water trickles to a stop. "That's why I wish you'd tell me what's going on with you lately." Her wet feet hit the tile floor and I can hear the rustling of a towel.
When she steps out from the bathroom, my eyes lift and widen before my hand covers them quickly and I exclaim "Jesus Mindy! Cover up!"
Instead of wrapping the towel around her for modesty's sake, she's walking around bare assed while toweling her hair like she has not a worry in the world. It's another common practice for her, but not one I'm ever prepared for. "Don't be a pussy Dave" she laughs, "how many times are you going to react like that when you should know by now that I like to air dry?"
"How many times do I have to tell you to cover up before you do it?" I reply.
"I don't know" I can hear the mocking tone of consideration in her voice, "let's wait and see."
"You're a bitch" I laugh and squeeze past her in a vain effort not to touch or see naked skin as I move into the bathroom to take my own shower.
"You're a cunt!" I hear her yell through the door as I close and lock it.
The warm water is a welcome feeling, soothing some of the bruises I got tonight as well as washing away some of the stress I've let accumulate as of late. I'm starting to let my head get away from me and it's affecting our work. Tonight I should've had all nine of my guys taken care of without incident. But I was a second late in blocking one of their blows and was rewarded with a brick slamming between my shoulder blades. The dull ache will hurt worse in the morning, I know it.
What bothers me more than letting some cracked out dickhead get the drop on me is that I know I'm putting more than myself at risk by getting so wrapped up in my head. I could live with it if it was just my life at risk, but Mindy is too valuable. I could never forgive myself if something were to happen to her. So I need to, as Mindy put it, nut up and do something about it. Columbia needs to know whether I'll take the scholarship by next month, so I don't have much choice other than to make a decision sometime soon.
The sound of the bathroom door's lock being picked is audible and I roll my eyes when the thing opens and I hear her take up residence on the closed toilet seat. I wonder if she is going to just sit there, when she actually says something. Her voice is surprisingly timid when it finally comes out. I'm not used to hearing her sound so… scared?
"Please, tell me what's wrong?"
My hands post against the wall as the water starts to run from hot to just warm. It'll be time to get out soon, unless I want a cold shower, and my towel is behind her head. That means I need to tell her something that might appease her enough for her to leave, or expose myself getting out for a towel.
"I got into law school" I finally say.
She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't leave either. I wait, hoping to God she'll do something before the water turns cold… She doesn't. The water turns icy and she's still quiet as my little friend starts to shrivel. Eventually I can't take any more frigid water and I shut it off before trying to wrap my lower half in the shower curtain and bend out in an awkward attempt at reaching the cabinet to grab a towel.
Noticing my struggle, all playfulness gone from her features, she reaches back for a towel and tosses it to me. Her eyes are vacant, hollow. She doesn't move from her seat even after I get what I'm reaching for.
Stepping back behind the curtain, I quickly dry my puffy jewfro and sop up the water trickling down my body before wrapping myself in the yellow cotton. Pulling back the curtain, she still looks lost and broken. Tying the towel off at my waste, I bend down to her and tilt her chin so she'll look at me. "What's wrong Mindy?"
Her blue eyes cloud at the question and she shakes off my hand, standing and stalking off into the living room. I follow her, just now noticing that she's thankfully put on some shorts and a t-shirt and isn't walking around naked anymore. I reach into one of the dresser drawers and slip my boxers on under the towel before tossing it in the corner and putting on the rest of my clothes. Perhaps this is the start of the silent treatment I expected earlier?
"Why?" Perhaps not…
"Why everything!" she shouts. "Why apply?! Why not tell me you applied?! Why not tell me you got in?! I thought we were best friends!" In a flash she's standing in front of me and socking me in the gut. I let her.
"Oof" I gasp as she gets me in the kidneys and I barrel over. She knees me in the face when my head drops and brings the ball of her palm down on the back of my head hard. I think I prefer the silent treatment.
"Fuck Mindy!" I shout when the onslaught seems to be over. "Violent much?!"
"I thought that was one of the things you liked about me?" she asks sarcastically.
"Yea, I mean it is, but not like this. Jesus Mini-"
"Don't call me that" she interrupts with a hostile warning and an imposing finger pointed in my direction. Mini is a name she usually likes, something between the two of us. That really shows how far I've pissed her off this time, if that's her reaction. "You don't get to call me that right now! And besides, I held back" she mutters while turning her back to me and grabbing the keys to her "normal" car. "Come on, I'll take you home."
"Don't you want to talk about this?" I ask, not exactly wanting to broach the topic any more than I did before it was brought up but viewing that as a lesser evil than how things seem to be going now.
"Nope" she says, popping the p-sound off of her lips exaggeratedly and still not looking at me.
"Fine" I mutter, pulling my boots on as she does the same before following her through the basement where an old fallout shelter empties out through a crudely blown out hatch that leads into the sewers. It's important no one sees us coming and going from this place, she always says. When we are in our street clothes, we all always enter through this smelly secret route. I usually complain a little, but Dad and Marcus are much less tolerant of the experience and frequently let their complaints be known. The storage unit where she keeps her Prius is only six blocks away, though, so the worst part of the trip is still the silence. We aren't usually down there long enough for the smell or surroundings to really get to me like it does the older men.
It's another 30 minute trip from the storage unit where her car is kept to my apartment in Manhattan, one that isn't usually as awkward as it is tonight. When Todd and I got into Fordham LC, and Marty into NYU, we all decided to rent a place in the city. When it got to be just me and Marty the rent got pretty high, but the cash Mindy and I have liberated from various shitheads on our patrols makes the nice apartment more than affordable. The location is convenient for classes, even if I have to take the train out to visit my dad, and there's a lot more to do in the city; so overall I like it. I used to miss spending all my time with Mindy during my freshman year, since she couldn't easily make it out and our work was limited to weekends as I got acclimated to college, but once we started working on the safe house together and she got old enough that Marcus would let her ride the train alone (I know, Hit Girl can't ride a train alone. Believe me we tried) we eventually found a comfortable routine. Then when she finally got her car, and I got a grip on my classes well enough to try the occasional weeknight patrol, my place just gradually became her home away from home and there wasn't much missing to be had. Tonight, though, I'm guessing she'll be heading back to Queens instead of crashing in my bed, and I'll be sleeping on my old queen sized mattress instead of on the couch. That is, if her silent treatment is any indication.
When the car finally stops in front of my building, she hasn't looked in my direction the whole time and still isn't. "Please talk to me Mindy" I plead.
She shakes her head, her blonde locks falling down the side of her face to obscure my view of her eyes. "I'm not sure I have anything to say to you right now Dave."
"I just won't go" I offer.
"Not the point Dave" she says simply, not embellishing on that at all.
"Then what is it?"
"I just need to think on this… Please, get out of the car."
She sounds near tears, which is very unsettling considering who I'm talking to, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and grab the satchel of cash from tonight (it was my turn to keep the loot) with a nod. "Okay, but we need to talk about this when you're ready" I say as I step out onto the sidewalk.
Mindy doesn't look my way or answer. She just waits for me to close the door and then peels away from the curb as quickly as a hybrid can. In a flash, the car is out of sight and I can hear Ernie my doorman laughing behind me.
"Girl troubles?" he asks.
"I don't really know" I answer honestly. The only thing I do know is… that could've gone better.