(Untitled)

[lastpunchline]

When; Thursday 20 August
Rating; R for swearing
Characters; Eddie Blake [lastpunchline] and Mindy Macready [neverplays]
Summary; Eddie just went out for a drink. Little did he know someone was lurking in the shadows.
Log;

Comments

[neverplays]

The affinity for purple is not a genetic predisposition. Or at least, it isn't inherited directly. But no, she's not a creature of your worst nightmares, Eddie. She's 100% organically grown.

Eddie's toss has enough force to send her sprawling hard against the concrete; hard enough for her to elicit a small gasp. Besides her size and stature, that small voice is the only other detail that doesn't belie her true age. It's the closest she will ever come to crying.

"You cunt," she growls out. A mark of her anger, and it's suiting that her first words to the Comedian would involve an expletive. It's Mindy's style, just as it's her style not to give up-- though it may seem like the opposite case. Retreating to the shadows of a building bordering the alley, it appears as though she's had enough. But appearance has little to do with reality in terms of this little girl, and within a seconds of her apparent retreat, there's the loud shattering of a window. Little glass slivers rain down in a clear shower upon the impact of her gloved fist; it's the jagged, large pieces that concern her.

Hit-Girl steps out of the shadows, this time, to deliver four dagger like shards in swift momentum. One follows after another, each targeting a different area of the Comedian. If she accidentally hits a major artery, then...

Oh well.

[lastpunchline]

And she's got a mouth on her. "Actually, kid," he replies right away, "it's 'you cock' or 'you asshole.'" Eddie has no qualms about teaching kids the right way to swear. After all, it's not like she's some kind of innocent little girl.

Makeshift weapons; interesting. He dodges three, but one, one manages to skim across his already scarred cheek. It's not a deep wound, or really much of a painful one, but Eddie fucking hates getting cuts on his face.

It's surprising to most people just how fast Eddie Blake can actually move. Maybe it's his weight, or his build, or his age, but he's a fast son of a bitch; faster than a lot of the masks, anyway. That, plus his years of experience, make grabbing the girl, turning her, pinning her arms behind her back and pushing her chest-forward against a wall easy. He holds her with his weight and with his strength.

"All right kid," he says, his voice deep, "You tell me your name, and I'll consider forgiving you for cutting my face."

He probably won't do anything but buy her a burger, but this has to happen first. He likes her spunk, her attitude and her training. That counts for a lot.

[neverplays]

"I said 'cunt' on purpose, you cunt," she hisses back, despite being in this precarious situation with her body pinned against the wall. She'll fight to the death, even if it's a fighting for the secrecy of her true identity. She didn't become a masked crime-fighter for fun.

"Hit-Girl."

It's the only shard of information she gives him, before forcing her head to the side. A decent enough angle to take a peek at her captor; a good enough range and position to spit in his face.

[lastpunchline]

He manages to avoid that one; it's easy enough to see coming. He does it by turning and slamming her back into the wall; the spit flies harmlessly over his shoulder. It's such a casual movement, and he doesn't even sweat. He pins her again.

"The Comedian," he tells her. As long as they're exchanging aliases.

"You got someone here watching you, Hit-Girl? A parent, a sibling, a handler? Maybe a monkey trainer?" Ha-ha, that's a terrible joke. But Eddie isn't in any rush. "Or are you some punk who's read too many comic books?"

[neverplays]

There's another small gasp as she's slammed back this time around. The curl of her lip and narrowing of her eyes, the only features discernible behind the mask, retain the impression of her anger. Showing apprehension or fear would be like giving up, even in a position like this.

"You're not very funny," she adds dryly, mostly at the monkey trainer line. At least Eddie agrees that it's terrible. But the question he asks probes at her initial reason for attacking the other in the first place, before it dissolved into pure conflict.

"This isn't New York City."

She's not going to admit to complete ignorance of her surroundings; she's not going to ask the Comedian for information. There's too much pride in this half-pint. Instead, he could derive her question from her statement.

[lastpunchline]

"I'm out of practice." He doesn't move, just holds her, firmly, but not in a way that could actually hurt her. The benefit of knowing how much pain someone can handle is the ability to not dish it out, either. He wonders if this little girl knows that with a twist of his wrist, he could break hers.

"Nope." He ponders this for a second. "I'm going to let you down, and if you attack me, I'll slam your face into the pavement so hard you'll feel it in your asshole." That might not make anatomical sense, but he has the feeling it's the kind of simile that this girl might understand.

"Then I'll explain everything, you got it?"

[neverplays]

Oh, Mindy does realize her vulnerability; how easily the small bones of her wrist could crack with the simple twist of his hand. There's a good reason for why she's had ample training in a vast array of firearms and weaponry. Not all grown men could be knocked into walls, and skill aside, her frame was still that of a young girl. If she had either her spear or a loaded gun with her at the time, she's sure that the fight with D'Amico would have progressed much more smoothly in her favor.

To kill her, the Comedian could claim defense as victim and her as initiator. Yet, in the pressure of his hold, she doesn't sense the intent of a killer. Years of training have taught her to gauge movement, to judge others' actions to decide her own retaliation, and with this skill she knows that the Comedian is not her enemy, for now. As a proper patron of paranoia, Mindy doesn't relax, not moving to struggle against him, not allowing her muscles and nerves to loosen. People are liars and actors, and who knows if this man might suddenly change his mind.

"That doesn't even make sense, dumbass," she replies. There's a lag of a quarter of a minute before her response. Mindy is trying to figure out the logistics of that simile. The incomprehensible logistics. In other words, this attack from the Comedian was successful as amusement pulls at the corner of her words, brightening slightly the snap back of sarcasm.

[lastpunchline]

The Comedian turns again, and another slam into the wall. "It's not supposed to," he says, grinning. This kid has spirit, Eddie likes that. It reminds him of his own daughter, a little, only she's not as bitter towards. The banter here is purely for the sake of the encounter, something that Eddie can appreciate. "So answer the question, Hit-Girl. I may even be willing to buy you a burger."

Only Eddie would make an offer like that to a little girl who attempted to kill him, but then he's seen a lot in his old age but he's never seen anything like this. He takes interest. Besides, catching her now means saving trouble later if Dan or worse, Adrian, were to find her.

They wouldn't know how to handle a kid like this.

[neverplays]

She wouldn't be Mindy Macready without that spunk. An ounce less and she wouldn't have been the vicious little thing she is now. It takes a certain amount of fervor and dedication to become a real masked crime fighter, as Eddie probably knows. And not counting idiots like Red Mist and Kick Ass, though there was potential in the green-suited one.

"As long as you don't give me a reason," Mindy forces out. With her hands free, at least she could protect herself if the dumbass was a liar. She's learned from experience that the more forthcoming a person, the less fluff stacked between words, the higher chance he or she was telling the truth. Not that Hit-Girl would trust anyone without proper acquaintance and examination. "I won't hurt you."

Let's face it, Dan would be way too soft for her. Adrian? Well, he was Adrian. That should be reason enough. Besides, she's starting to take a liking to this old man. He was louder, harsher than her father, but there was something assuring about it. She didn't like dumbasses who minced their words.

[lastpunchline]

He drops her then and steps back, knowing that she is more than capable of landing on her feet. "No, you won't," he assures her, and takes her in. She can't possibly top five feet - being that short can give someone an advantage in a firefight, people rarely aim lower than their own chest unless they're aiming for knees. She's got that ridiculous purple wig on, but there have been worse costumes in the day (fuck, Eddie's worn worse costumes, in the day) and he can tell she's tough. She just took three slams into a wall without whining, after all. More than Eddie can say for a lot of people.

Eddie nods his head towards his favorite dive. The perk of the place is that they won't give him shit for bringing in a kid; to give him shit they would have care, and they don't. "Come on kid," he says. "Who taught you to fight? Your dad?" It's a guess: Sally may have pushed Laurie into it, but she was the only woman he knew that would have done something like that.

[neverplays]

And Eddie assume right, as she lands on her feet with ease. Mindy's new freedom has her taking a step back, perching one hand against her waist just to be cocky. In the worst of situations, she wouldn't mind fighting dirty and using her height for a perfect vantage point. But this wasn't the worst of situations, unless patties and ketchup turned out to be secretly lethal.

"Who else do you think," she snarks back. Her voice is more playful this time around, as she allows herself to trust the old man for now. Making enemies right away in a new city... country, wherever this was, wasn't the smartest thing. And he was turning out to be potentially awesome.

Never mind the fact that she was hungry.

"My dadd- my father was the best." It's too late to fix the past tense was it slips, so she doesn't make a move to correct it, continuing on silently a few steps behind the Comedian.

[lastpunchline]

Eddie doesn't remark on the slip, he just pulls a cigar from his pocket and lights it. "Well he did a good job on you," he tells her. "You could use some sharpening up, but you drew blood, that's not a joke, kid." He holds open the door for a second longer than he usually would before letting go and takes her over to his usual table.

"This place is the City," he tells her, because he figures she's just arrived. "No one knows why you come in, no real way out. People are from different worlds, or some shit like that, but it doesn't make most of them any less of idiots." He blows the smoke haphazardly; it's not like the Comedian cares if she coughs or not. "Not too many masks, though. A few."

[neverplays]

She brims with pride at that remark, evident as she continues to warm up to Eddie. It's pride toward her father's ability as much as her own; for she was a testament to his, a legacy that would continue past his own death. Mindy would make sure of that.

There's a smirk for him as she takes the seat across. "You should try me on another day," she says, "There would be more than blood, I promise." Now under the examination of the diner's light, the dried blood on her face and the darkening of a bruise beneath that is unmistakable. Too dried to be Eddie's fault, too fresh to have been too long ago. The bullet hole on her chest is hardly inconspicuous, either.

"There are idiots everywhere, it's no fucking surprise," she has to pause, attempting to parse the information just given to her. Different worlds? Teleportation's looking as good an excuse as anything else. "How did we get here? Where the hell are we? Why does this place have such a stupid name?"

Another pause.

"Are you high?"

As vicious as she was, there was still a child underneath all of that. The peppering of questions isn't that odd.

[lastpunchline]

At least this kid isn't stupid. A good question - are you high - at least it's logical. "I'm not high," Eddie says simply, ordering a couple of burgers and a beer for himself, telling her to get whatever she wants to drink. Really, if she asked for a burger too, he wouldn't stop her. Responsibility only goes so far with Edward Blake.

Now, examining her under the light, he sees the blood and the wounds and he notes them in a methodical way. She's been in a fight, and recently. One not with him.

"Teleport, blue men, fuck, the a-bomb, or death, who knows. Point is we're here, and the people in charge don't give a shit. Mostly they keep quiet." He smirks. "The name's just the name. Call it whatever you like, really." He takes another long drag. He'll explain curses later, if he even bothers at all. He might just let her read that one in the guide. "As for why we're here..." he shrugs. "Your guess is as good as mine."

[neverplays]

She orders a burger and a strawberry milkshake. Hey, he offered the invitation, and in this situation taking full advantage of his offer was the smart thing to do.

"That's impossible. People can't teleport and don't tell me you believe blue aliens exist," she argues. Combating the illogical with logic was a dead end and she knows it. It's just ironic how the one little girl who didn't believe in fairy tales, magic, and technicolor unicorns is now facing something just as impossible. She hesitates slightly before speaking again, caught on the last option on his list. "I'm not dead. It can't be that."

She couldn't be.

[lastpunchline]

Eddie grins and flick ash away from the head of his cigar. "Blue aliens? No, I'm not stupid." Actually he hasn't met any aliens, and though he'd like to think that Doc was one, he knows better. After all, he remembers seeing pictures of Doc before the accident.

"You're not dead. You've got a pulse," he says. Clearly the kid's worried about it. "And there's a ton of fucking weird shit that happens here. So you might want to get the word impossible out of your head right now or you're going to be one sad sorry bitch before the end of the week."

They bring the drinks and Eddie takes a sip of his beer. "You're not stupid, kid, so think it through. Where do you think you are? Disneyland?"