Young Writers Society

Full Novel Synopsis: Sequel to 'The Spiralling', itself a sequel to the Kick-Ass (2010) movie. However, this novel can be read on its own. After Big Daddy died, Mindy was driven mad, subdued by Dave, and locked away in an Institute after killing all who she deemed responsible but Dave. Will she recover? What will happen next to a New York without her nor the Motherfucker? Elements of the Kick-Ass 2 (2013) movie and comic series will be taken in.

The Descent

Chapter 1: Picture of a Pink Unicorn Part 2

“Mindy?” I whispered, trying to be as little as possible, to be her size. I figured that it was somehow the tactful way, even knowing full well how she was like even before she even tried to kill me. She seemed far more vulnerable, far smaller, “It’s me, Dave…” She continued drawing away with her crayons. Looking at the crayon case, I noticed that the red one was missing. It was as if she didn’t notice me.

“Mindy, hey…” I whispered more, put a hand on her shoulder. I could hear feet shuffling back as everyone else were doing the smart thing. After another moment of colouring with crayons, she finally turned around. At least I got to see her face clearly. It was thin, like nothing I remembered. I could see her cheekbones, rounded and young. At first, I was a little taken aback, but as I noticed she wasn’t regarding me with the look of out-of-place hatred in her child’s eyes, I could feel a little warmth inside – things might work itself out after all.

“Do you like my drawing?” Mindy said mildly, her voice weak. I took in every word. In her shivering hand, she held up a drawing block, A3 sized. There was a drawing of a unicorn, the kind you’d find lining a toy store or even Youtube. It was better drawn than most – could be the byproduct of her past training with Big Daddy, or maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe she’s just older.

The unicorn itself was pink and white in colour. There was a forest in the background, with oddly shaped trees green and yellow in colour and the ground, dirty brown. The trees had balloon-like bulges in the middle, and their branches were all the same, four facing diagonally upwards and outward. Funnily enough, the base of the tree trunks were thinner than the top. The sky was blue with white fluffy clouds.

“It’s beautiful.” I couldn’t help but to smile. I couldn’t help but to smile wide. It felt like a magical moment, one that will start us off well after all. Then I saw amongst the green and blue of the background, the unicorn’s horn wasn’t coloured, “Oh, you missed that spot, Mindy.” She smiled back, and went back to hiding her paper and getting to work colouring. When she was done, she held the picture up again.

“Beauti-” She was holding it wrong, upside down. Somehow, the picture she was drawing had changed. The unicorn’s smiley face was turned into a frown. The trees in the background weren’t trees anymore, but somehow resembled a lot of Kick-Asses with a noose around the neck – the yellow did seem out of place. She coloured the unicorn’s horn red.

Immediately, she lunged at me, managed to knock me over and get on top of me, trying to stab me in the eye with her red crayon, which she had sharpened from drawing. Before I know it, I was getting the Demoness treatment again, and boy did I took it well as things descent into violence. Wheezing from fear and shock, my hands locked on her wrists, I was trying to get the red crayon as far away from my eyes as possible. She was weaker than her former self, and yet she was winning.

And just when I thought the shock was over and done with, she sunk her teeth into my shoulder. I was wearing a jacket over T-shirt, and yet I could feel her teeth underneath. As if knowing what will happen, the orderlies came forward, trying to get her off me. While I was crying my lungs out, she was latched onto my shoulder like a rabid dog. Again, it took four orderlies, PLUS a guard and psychiatrist to wrench her off, and before they could hold her down, her sharpened red crayon had found its way into an orderly’s right eye. The only thing I could only be glad about was that I wasn’t the one who needed a pirate patch.

The last thing I saw was one of the orderlies plunging another syringe into her, this time into her arm, as the guard took me away. He had to drag me, as I was screaming for Mindy, crying. My legs felt like superman’s after a blast of Lex’s Kryptonite. That was the last time I saw her eight months ago, and heard of her, getting strapped into bed as she was yelling for me to die. Sure, Doctor Paul did contact me once in a while, gave me the usual bad news, and even that stopped after a while. Mindy was still Demoness, that eight months ago.

If only that was the only bad thing going on. A few months before this, Mindy’s adoptive father, Sergeant Marcus Williams of the New York Police Department, died of complications. He survived getting peppered by Demoness’ bullets, he survived surgery, only to lapse into coma and quietly slip away. No heroic speeches, no last hugs and kisses. Another stab by reality. Big Daddy had a chance to talk to Mindy, but no, not Marcus.

Even if Mindy got out of Paul’s asylum someday, what would I tell her? That she killed her own dad? It was a question I asked myself every day, every morning and every time before I go to bed. Sure, Peter Parker did lose Uncle Ben, but at least he wasn’t the thug who pulled the trigger. I bet he’d completely lose his shit and mind if he found out he was the one who shot Uncle Ben to death all along. Thankfully, telling Mindy about Bid Daddy and Marcus wasn’t something I had to do, at least not in the next eight months or so.

Present…

“So bloody weak. So full of shit.” A juvenile but hateful voice spat. I didn’t know who it was, I couldn’t see, "No surprise you were stabbed and knocked down by a car."

“Fuck you!” Somehow, I knew the lines, like reading off a high school play script. It came out of my mouth without my control.

“No surprise your 'friends' suffered from your fuck-ups.” The voice continued, unfazed by profanity – it was profanity incarnate itself.

“Once a loser, always a loser.” I could see an figure-8 mask and a set of steel teeth coming in closer, floating towards me. The teeth were moving, talking, “Just an idiot in a giant, blue condom.”

“Let me end your suffering...” Slowly, the rest of Demoness came into shape, her albino features, white as snow, irises red as blood, came into being. She was in a black and silver costume, had a Katana, aimed downwards at me. And she brought it down upon me, the blade sliding past my Kevlar vest – I was wearing one? Into my chest and through my heart, each pump of blood harder and more painful with the red hot iron coming through.

Pain reverberated throughout my body as I stared into her mouth, smiling, smiling hard like a kid’s mouth during her birthday party, except this wasn’t a birthday party. My heart continued to beat in defiance, each pump hurting more than the next, sounding more and more like an alarm ringing each time – Ringing towards what?

It got louder, and louder, my heart in pain. Instinctually, I reached out with my hand… And muted an alarm clock. My bed creaked with my body. It was a nightmare I was used to. In the beginning, I was bolting up from bed just like in the movies, but these days, it was just like in I Am Legend.

But there was still ringing, and it sounded different from an alarm clock. Vibrations to the tune of a Batman theme song, which I couldn’t remember the generation of as I was still fighting off grogginess. It took me a few seconds to figure out that it was the phone on my desk. Brushing past my literature textbooks and comics, I got up, just barely, feeling a little lousy as it was Monday. After stopping my night life as Kick-Ass, the Monday blues’d become a reality once again, creeping back, reminding me that I’d gone from hero to zero once again. It was still something I’d yet get used to.

“Uhh….” I was still groggy, pinching my nose, almost regretting the previous night spent stoning behind my television, watching reruns of Lost, trying to put a cover over the past, distract myself, forcing myself to forget that I was ever a man in a green condom, “Hello?”

“Hello, hi, good morning.” A somewhat familiar voice boomed through my cellphone, on the highest volume. As I was still stuck on trying to remember which generation’s Batman theme song was on my cellphone, I couldn’t figure out who it was at the moment, “This is Doctor Paul, head psychiatrist of the Jameson Psychiatry Institute.” The name woke me up just about, there and then.

“Yeah, Dave Lizewski!” I shouted into the phone, unable to contain the strange mixture of excitement and anxiety within me, of hope and fear fighting one another “Is this about…”

“Yes, it is.”