This is HannibalBarcasReborn. I have sworn off swearing, so I'm sorry, but for those of you who like HitGirl for her foul-mouthedness, go to hell.

Mindy was in shock. Again.

How in hell was her father alive?

"Dad?" She asked.

"Yes Mindy?"

"How- How- How are you alive?"

Damon smiled. "I was unconscious sweetie," he said. "I still don't understand how you confused me for dead. I've wondered about it for years. After my sister and her husband fixed me up, they convinced me to stay with them; that you needed to go through the 'loss' to become even stronger. And look at you now."

Mindy looked at her feet. "I- I don't think it was better. I had to deal with Marcus, and he didn't like the way you raised me at all. Dad, I want to go back to fighting crime with you."

The moment that those words left her mouth, Damon's smile disappeared. "Darling," he said, "I've stopped fighting crime. Instead, your Aunt and Uncle have been raising an Army. And I have been training them. 'Crime-Fighting' is a part of the training, but, in the end, this country is headed towards another civil war. And we have to be prepared. Underground, we've been training, stockpiling, recruiting and stockpiling more, because when this war rolls around, we want to be prepared."

"A full-blown Civil War?" Mindy asked. "Like back in 1860?"

"Yep. And this time, the casualties will be ten times higher. And we don't want those lists tilting towards us. People say that the military will fight. It won't the military will be fighting itself, each battalion split apart, every man against his brother, Old Testament style. We like to think of the Democrats as stupid and hating guns, but, let's face it. About half of the Gun owners in this country are probably Democrats. They've been preparing as well - preparing to wipe us out. I won't sit around at let that happen, like I didn't sit around and let the drug epidemic just happen.

"So I have to ask you now. Mindy, will you be with me or against me? The choice is yours alone."

Mindy laughed. "You think I'd ever go against you? You've taught me everything I know. How could I not listen to your request. Also, you're my dad, and as much as the Leftists want to push that, no matter what they say, fathers are still useful."

Damon smiled and clapped his daughter on the shoulder. "And on that note, I'd like to ask you which classes you'd like to teach, and to what ages. We have weapons training (of course), physical fitness, hand-to-hand, Close-Quarters with edged weapons, and sewing."

"Sewing?" Mindy asked, completely bewildered. "Why is that an option on this list?"

Damon looked at his daughter, completely poker-faced. "Nobody wanted to teach it. They were afraid of 'unnecessary injury.' Yeah right, when your nine-year old cousin is practically losing his finger and getting it fixed up in a matter of hours. Seriously."

"Okay,"Mindy replied. "I guess I'll teach CQC." She looked at one of the chest-of-drawers. "Are there some medium-sized-blades in there? I need to practice throwing those."

Damon opened the drawer, grabbed a knife set, and handed them to his daughter. "Wish you luck," he said. "You're going to need it."