It has been 3 months since I left New York. I was on the run from the cops, after having killing 6 people with one of my guardian's guns. I couldn't tell anyone where I was going or where I was settling down.

"I have to leave New York", I said. Dave was shocked. "Sorry, I have no choice. I just killed 6 people with a cop's gun. They don't respect vigilantes over here", I added. Before Dave could speak, I went over and kissed him. I gave him a big kiss. "What was that?", Dave asked. "That was my first kiss. Now play nice, or I'll rip your balls out through your mouth".

That was the last time I saw Dave. That kiss seemed so meaningless, and it probably had done more damage than I had thought. So, where do I live now? Well, I live in a sizable house in the heart of Boston, Massachusetts. The feds weren't on the case, so I was safe here. Just as I was about to drift into my thoughts, I heard a breaking news alert come on the TV. I saw a picture of Dave in his Kick-Ass. It piqued my interest, so I went to see what it was. "18 year old Dave Lizewski, better known by his superhero alias Kick-Ass, is being investigated by police for 2 murders and 3 attempted murders stemming from a fight at a now abandoned warehouse.", the news anchor said. All I could do is just utter the word "fuck" under my breath. "Dave's whereabouts are unknown at this point is time, but it is widely believed his is still in Manhattan.", the anchor further added. Goddammit, I was sure Dave was safe from the police. I thought there was no way in hell the police were gonna ding him, but they have. I needed to find him and find him quick. It was only a matter of time before the DA pressed charges and had a warrant out for his arrest.

I went over to my computer and tried digging around everywhere. I had taught him to mask his IP in the most undetectable ways. It seems I had taught him well, in fact, a bit too well. Not a trace found. After my conventional methods didn't pan out, I had to resort to one last piece of memory: Dave was a diehard Mets fan. Realizing this was my only shot, I hacked into the Mets ticket office to find credit card numbers. I found a game in about a week, next Friday night to be specific, against the Phillies. I searched up and referenced all the credit card numbers. I kept going section by section until I finally found Dave's card number. He was sitting down the 3rd base line in the 4th row, with his pals Marty and Todd. Luckily for me, there was one vacant seat left over. I hurried up and bought it and printed the ticket out. With that, I had planned to enjoy my next few days in leisure.

I had given up on patrolling. I couldn't reveal myself, and I sure as hell couldn't do it to my full effect. Dave was the key that seemed to unlock the 10% of my power that I needed to get myself over the edge. I still had a workout room, so I've been training like hell to keep myself going. Hit-Girl has been gone for 3 months. I didn't have to worry about the D'Amico's. Chris was a paraplegic as a result from Dave pushing that fucker into the shark tank. Frank was already dead, he did get blown out of the sky with a fucking bazooka. Ralph and Joe were the only ones left, and they had set up shop in Toronto. I knew that eventually they were going to be taken out, but I couldn't have done it without Dave.

I do miss my friends and the life I left behind. Marcus did care for me, despite the fact he wanted to change me. Todd was a good guy at heart and Marty was also a brave dude. I couldn't stand Brooke, that bitch can go rot in Minnesota. Hopefully some guy has bashed some sense into her with a hockey stick. Yeah, reminds me of a shotgun I had built into a hockey stick. Angela was my closest normal friend. We were able to discuss normal girl things, which was actually a pretty good breath of fresh air from the usual crap I had to deal with. She and I still hang out, as she moved in Boston a month ago. I missed plenty others, but oh well, such is the life of a vigilante.

I did miss Dave, though. I mean, really missed him. We really were 2 halves of a whole, we completed each other. My tact and cunning and his aggressiveness and tolerance in battle were a deadly combo. It wasn't just that, though. I had developed feelings for him, feelings which that kiss didn't even come close to covering.

After that was the guilt, though. Oh God, the survivor's guilt is STRONG with this one. I constantly blamed myself for my father's death and Dave's father's death. I couldn't bear the guilt. I had gone so many nights with feeble amounts of sleep for that reason. I was medically diagnosed with PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) this past month, but that wasn't gonna stop me from doing what I do best.

The next few days were boring. Angela was out of town, crime rates were at an all-time low, and I had gone through my video game collection. Fuck, I guess, this means it is time to buy some new games. Having inherited $13 million from my dad, I was set for life.

I went down to the local Gamestop. "One copy of The Last of Us and Remember Me, please", I ordered. "Here you go, that will be $95.45, please". I swiped my card and finished purchasing my games. After I dropped off my games at the house, I went out to get something for Dave. I went to a local comic store, which was about 10x bigger than the Atomic Comics from back home. I bought an exact replica Kick-Ass costume, fit to Dave's exact size specs. I had bigger ideas than this. I went back home, took out a sewing machine, and had sewn Kevlar into the suit. I tested it with all my most powerful guns, not a single gun's bullet went through. I smiled and knew Dave was simply going toing to love this. Given what I've heard, he's still out on patrol, so this'll be a welcome surprise.

I woke up, and it was Friday morning. I had gotten a good amount of sleep last night, so I was refreshed. At about 2:00 PM, I wrapped up the present I had for Dave, got out on my motorcycle, and took off on the 3 hour drive to New York.