I don't own Kick-Ass. I'm just borrowing the characters

Chapter 1

"'I always wondered why no one ever became a real superhero… However, someone already did: Mindy Macready. When her father was killed, his old partner in the NYPD, Marcus, became her legal guardian and enrolled her at my High School. Turns out, she was damn smart too…

After attending Milliard-Fillmore High for only a month, she was bumped up to the Seventh Grade… then a year later, skipped the Eighth Grade to become the youngest freshman in our school's history.

Me? Well, I became a superhero during my Freshman year at Millard-Fillmore, but doing so didn't go without consequences; not only did I have to redo my Freshman year after breaking nearly every bone in my body – a result of getting stabbed and run over while attempting stop a couple of thieves from stealing a car – but I was also indirectly responsible for the death of Mindy's father. So, I gave it up.

Why did I give it up? Well, unlike Mindy who retired from a being superhero because her mission was complete, I gave it up because I wasn't trained for it and it was just way too dangerous…

Still, being forced to repeat my Freshman year did have its advantages; it had resulted in Mindy and me both being freshmen which allowed me to keep my promise to Marcus that I'd look out for her.

Now, two years on, we were both dying of boredom. Like most high school juniors or seniors, we had no idea what we wanted to do with our lives; or so I thought…'" Dave Lizewski:-"The Biography of Dave 'Kick-Ass' Lizewski" by Mindy K. Lizewski

February 1st, 2014 – Morning (Saturday)

Home of Mindy Macready

It was mid-morning, and I was bored out of my skull. All my schoolwork was done and I literally had nothing to do, unlike most of my fellow classmates – except for Dave. I knew he probably already had it done as well. Yeah, he may not have been as smart as me, but given he was a year older than the age group it was meant for, I knew he'd get it done almost as fast as me.

I grinned as I looked at what was on the screen of my MacBook Pro. It was a picture of a Ducati Panigale 1199 that I'd altered using Photoshop to make it purple with the letters 'HG' in black on a small rectangular pink background on the side of the fairing. Yes, I may not have been Hit-Girl for two years, but I did fully intend on going back out there… All I had to do was hack the school network, maybe give myself the award for perfect attendance…

Of course I hadn't told Marcus, my guardian, this as I knew what he'd say: He'd tell me that I was only just a couple months past my fifteenth birthday, that I wasn't Hit Girl anymore, and that my father was Damon Macready; not Big Daddy. He'd also go on about how I couldn't possibly know what I wanted to do with my life which was the exact opposite of what we were being told at school.

My iPhone started ringing. Picking it up from where I'd dumped it on the couch next to me, I grinned. It was Dave. He was probably about to tell me he'd got his schoolwork done and was as bored as me.

"Hi, Dave," I said, answering the call. "How's it hanging?" Looking up, I could see Marcus frowning from where he was seated, actually reading the New York Post. He didn't like it when I used such language, or profanity of any sort. He even had a damn swear jar that must have had at least a hundred bucks in it.

"Just fine," Dave answered without a beat. "How're yours?"

"My boobs are hanging just fine," Mindy smirked, watching Marcus stare at her in shock at what she'd just said. Shaking his head, Marcus pointedly ruffled his newspaper. "So," Mindy asked, now that the pleasantries had been dealt with. "Why ya calling? To tell me you got your homework finished? You know I did mine last night."

"No, none of that," Dave said, sounding serious. "Dad found out I'm Kick-Ass."

"What!" I exclaimed.

Looking across at Marcus, I watched as he folded the paper and put it aside. He was now watching listening intently. "How did he find out you're Kick-Ass?" I scowled. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"No, I didn't tell him!" Dave said hotly. I sighed, knowing that it wasn't his fault. I always knew it was a possibility that Mr. L, as I called Dave's dad, might find out, but the chances of that happening two years on from Kick-Ass's last outing were very slim… That meant that he'd found out some other way, or maybe had always known. Now that was a scary thought since it meant he might also have known who I was. "About an hour ago, Dad and I each received a letter – delivered by courier – from your dad. Haven't fully read mine yet – some of it seems to have been written in some sort of code, but it did say that you and Marcus should be getting a letter each too."

"Fuck!" I stated. Marcus, just pointed at the jar. He'd say the words after the call was finished. I also knew Marcus was going to have to listen in. "Thanks for the warning." Instinctively, I glanced at living room window, looking out onto the street. "Dave," I asked. "Can I put this on speaker? I think Marcus should hear this."

"Yeah," Dave readily agreed. "I'll do the same. Dad's hovering over me trying to listen in…"

Thumbing the speaker icon, I placed the phone on the coffee table in the middle of the room and walked back to the windows, thinking I'd heard the sound of a scooter heading up the street. Sue me, yeah I can identify the type of vehicle by the sound of its engine. "You're on speaker," I told Dave. "I can also hear a scooter heading up the street."

"Yeah, the courier that delivered the letters here was riding one." Dave told me. "A dark red one. Yamaha; not sure of the model though."

Perfect, I thought. I know had the information I needed to know if the scooter heading up the street was the courier. Yup. Pulling up in front of the driveway was a Yamaha scooter – a 2014 model Yamaha Majestic, and it was a dark red. "You were right." I could feel Marcus' eyes boring into me. Not liking the sort of skills I'd been taught, nor the fact that I'd made sure I never lost those skills. Watching the courier dismount and walk up to the door, I gave Dave and his dad a description of the what he was wearing.

"Yes, Mindy," Dave's dad supplied. "That's the same courier. Nametag said 'Alan' and his ID gave a full name of 'Alan Berkley.'"

The doorbell rang. "Hang on. I'm muting the call." Stepping back to the coffee table I did so as Marcus accepted and signed for the two letters. Once the door was closed, I took the call off mute as Marcus handed me mine. "You're back on."

"Nametag read 'Alan.' ID matched too." Marcus said absently, glancing at the envelope. "Damon's handwriting alright."

Looking at my own letter as I sat back down on the couch, I had to agree that it did look like it. Not wanting to, but also knowing I had to, I opened it up, and with shaking hands I began to read: 'Dearest Mindy, if you are reading this then I am dead and you are now just past your fifteenth birthday…'

"Yes, Damon," Marcus stated, absently, as he was reading his own letter. "She's a handful, but she does listen to me, most of the time…" After a moment, Marcus looked up at me, saying: "'Baby Doll, 'Sugar' and 'Honey.'"

I smiled, knowing he was talking about my profanity problem. "Yes Marcus," I told him. "He wasn't always Big Daddy. Out of costume, he was Damon, or 'Daddy' as I called him." I didn't omit dad's hero name, if Damon had written Dave's dad a letter too, then he probably already knew. I continued to read.

'Life as a civilian, assuming you managed to take down Frank D'Amico has probably been very hard for you, but I do hope you haven't given Marcus too much grief.'

Well that was true… mostly.

'Being fifteen, I can only hope you're happy, maybe have a boyfriend. On that subject, I can't really offer much advice except to say that most fifteen year-old boys – excluding Dave who is very good at pretending to be gay – have a tendency to think with their dicks before brains. Make sure your boyfriend is one of the few who thinks with his dick last.'

I laughed. Yeah, I remember Dave telling me about that. That was how he got his first girlfriend, Katie. The smile faded a moment later. I didn't know how to tell him his girlfriend was cheating on him with 'Rasul-the-Second' as I called Maleek. Thanks to Maleek, she was also addicted to heroin and cannabis.

'Hell, maybe you'll be lucky and Dave is your boyfriend. If so, then you won't have to worry about hiding the fact that you are "Hit Girl" from him and you can guard the two identities together. However, if he isn't Dave, I can't tell you not to tell him, but I wouldn't recommend it. All I can tell you is to be as honest as you can and if he were to find out, DON'T DENY IT! If he truly cares for you he'll guard your secret.'

I smiled. No I didn't have a boyfriend. But, I was working on that! All I really had to do was get Dave into a position where he discovered her duplicity and then be there for him. Maybe even offer to stick one of my bō-staff blades up her snatch. Now, that was a good idea. Remember that one, Mindy.

'Now, being fifteen is a very important age as you're old enough to decide for yourself if you want to continue being Hit Girl. Marcus might disagree, but as I'm stating in his letter, that's how old Dave Lizewski was when he decided to become Ass-Kick (Ha Ha Ha). If you've listened to Marcus, then you've probably not been Hit Girl in a while, and you may be thinking of putting the costume back on. Again, I cannot tell you what to do, it must be your decision. Marcus can only stop you if decide to GO OUT ON YOUR OWN! You must have backup. He even has permission to call me "insane" if it would stop you.'

"You've got that right," Marcus muttered. "I would."

'Now, it goes against my better judgement, but as I write this two days after our midnight visit to his bedroom, I can only recommend "Ass-Kick" for this position. At the present time, he's borderline useless and is more likely get his ass kicked than "Kick-Ass." But, he has more resources than he realises. Namely you and his dad.'

I grinned, as realisation kicked me in the ass – bad pun intended. I remembered my dad talking about this prison guard who was an ex-US Marine he got to know from when he was in Sing Sing. Dave's dad worked at Sing Sing, and was an ex-US Marine. Why didn't my dad ever tell me? "Mr L? Did you know my daddy?"

"Yes, Mindy," Mr. Lizewski told me. "I knew your father. He was a very good guy; one of the few decent inmates I ever met. It was our original intention for it to be the four of us – Your dad, Me, Dave and yourself – going after the D'Amico's. Unfortunately my wife became ill and passed away as you know, so it didn't work out as it should have. But, as you know, no plan ever goes exactly as you intend, and if it does…"

"…then something's wrong." I finished.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Marcus suddenly exclaimed.

I grinned. "Fifty dollars! Jar!"

Over the phone, I could hear Dave's laughter. "You've been waiting to say that for too long, Mindy!"

He was right, I had. Back to reading: 'Now, I had been intending on saving this until Frank D'Amico was no more, but being a teenage vigilante means you will need it now as you grow into a young lady…'

"Lady, my ass," Marcus shook his head.

'The house doesn't look like much from the outside, but it's got everything that a teenage vigilante might need as you grow into an adult vigilante…'

"A house!" I exclaimed. "I have a safehouse that is an actual fucking house!"

'Instructions on how to find it can be found on the next page… encoded of course!"

Flicking the page over, I could see the instructions he was talking about. At the very bottom was an addendum stating that he'd sent three other letters to Marcus, Dave and his dad.

"Hey," Dave said. "I don't want to put a damper on your excitement, but, are you sure this is actually from your father?"

"It's his handwriting!" I defended my belief that it was from daddy.

"Mindy," Marcus said. "I agree that it looks to be from him, but I think we should check it just to be sure. I still have 'that letter' that told you how to get in touch with me."

Over the phone, Dave's dad agreed.

"Well, fuck!" Marcus didn't say a thing. I guess he thought I was entitled to swear just now. "There's only one way to be sure." I couldn't believe I was about to say this. "I think we need to go back to Safehouse-A."

Everyone agreed to meet up later that afternoon.