"James, sorry I didn't run this with you," Carlos said, watching the city roll past.
"You don't have to. It's good, having a sister at home with you. She's better off with us than bouncing around the system. Besides… you and Hannah seem to be doing pretty well."
Carlos gave a rare smile. "Yeah. I think we are."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
James had a sister now—a sister he barely knew.
Thanks to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s intelligence network, he had access to everything they'd managed to gather on Mindy McCready. Her father, once a decorated officer, had been framed for drug possession and spent five years in prison. After his release, he raised Mindy alone. So far, it tracked with what James remembered from the Kick-Ass films back in his original universe.
But there were gaps. What the two of them did behind closed doors—the private training, the combat—none of that made it into the official records. Her father's death had been broadcast online, but the footage had since vanished. Scrubbed clean. Even S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have it archived, probably because it wasn't considered valuable enough.
Was Mindy really Hit-Girl? Maybe or maybe not. It didn't matter. If she was, she had Carlos and James now. She could grow up like a normal kid. But if she still had the edge… Well, a girl with some bite wasn't a bad thing.
The next morning, James had paperwork to handle: school enrollment.
Technically, education was compulsory in the U.S., but the specifics varied state to state. He didn't care about the legal minimums. Instead, he found a private school nearby—grades six through twelve. It was well-funded, low-profile, and quiet.
He swung by the flower shop in his sports car, picked up Mindy, and headed straight to campus.
"You nervous about school?" he asked, glancing at her as they drove.
"A little, never really went to one" Mindy replied. "Big Daddy taught me most things already. I was enrolled just to see what it's like."
James flinched at the phrase Big Daddy. "Right. Well… new life, new start. People adapt. Speaking of which—anything left at your old place? I can send someone to grab it."
"No. We didn't have much. None are worth taking back," she said quickly.
Definitely Hit-Girl, James thought. That kind of detachment? Not typical for an eleven-year-old.
"Okay. Then I'll let Hannah go wild on your room. Pretty sure she's making it full princess."
Mindy blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You'll see."
They pulled into the school lot. It was exactly what you'd expect from a high-end private academy—quiet, spotless, and hella expensive. There wasn't even a school bus in sight. Most of the kids drove themselves, or had private drivers.
"You like it?" James asked, climbing out. "Once you're older, you can get your own car."
"Can I get a motorcycle?" she asked.
James smirked. "Not a fan of four wheels?"
Mindy just stared at him. James remembered Hit-Girl asking for a butterfly knife in the film. Maybe it was more accurate than he thought.
"You've got time to think about it. Let's meet your principal first."
She didn't object when he took her hand, but she clearly wasn't used to the gesture. Strong girl. Didn't mean she didn't need someone in her life.
The principal was waiting—round-faced, polite, and business like.
"Mr. James Gibson," he greeted. "And this is… Mindy McCready?"
"That's right. She's my new sister—adopted by my father, but she lives with me. Any issues with her enrolling?"
"Not at all," the principal said. "Though I see she's never attended formal primary school?"
"She was mostly home-schooled by her father. She'll need to catch up, but she's sharp. If she needs support, I'll arrange tutoring."
"Very well. We'll place her in grade 12. She's missed half the year, but I believe she can close the gap."
James nodded. Tuition wasn't a problem, even if his cash was mostly tied up in League Games. He still had his S.H.I.E.L.D. salary and some private reserves.
Once enrollment was complete, they left campus.
"Let's get supplies," James said. "See what you like."
At the store, Mindy went for purple everything—a school bag, pencil case, wallet. James didn't shop for clothes. That was Hannah's domain. No way he'd ruin her fun.
That night, James decided the four of them would go out to sea. Family cookout on the yacht.
He called Carlos. "Let's have a barbecue tonight. I'll take Mindy to grab ingredients."
"Good call. Meet you at home."
They hit the supermarket. James let Mindy handle the cart.
"What do you like?"
She tilted her head. "Seafood okay?"
"Seafood's perfect. Grab whatever you want."
She moved with confidence—quick choices, with no hesitation. Even with pushing the cart, she was fluid, and efficient. James noticed the faint calluses on her hand when they touched—firearm calluses.
She still believed Carlos was a florist, and thought James was just a businessman. Probably for the best.
Back home, they loaded everything into the fridge. James cooked a simple lunch—nothing fancy. They saved their appetite for dinner.
Carlos and Hannah came back early, excited. They closed the shop that afternoon and packed up. Their yacht rarely got used—but James figured that was about to change.
Family, food, and ocean breeze.
Sometimes, even spies and soldiers needed a break.