Words and warlocks
Amber shades
This story takes place a few weeks after the
Harbingers epilogue "The dream" but some time before
The actual story (Which I've still got to write but) which will be good.
No, really.
What else?
Oh yeah this (and the Harbingers story) is set in the mirage
Universe along with the Marvel, DC, and Image universes.
Don wears a RED bandana. I don't own him or any of the characters in this.
New York
Green which village
Saturday
7.30pm
There's less trash here. Donatello realised, grocery bags bundled like new borns in his trench coated arms, in turn held close to his carapace. Something had been bugging him for the best part of half an hour about this particular part of the city. It was a bit more ...scenic.
Peaceful almost.
A change for someone who's spent the better part of their lives becoming part of the shadows of run down tenements and abandoned warehouses. Don reflected.
That and the brown stones of North Hampton.
This reminded him of it a little, or maybe Springfield it's nearby neighbour.
Shorter roofs than most other buildings he'd leapt across in his time too. A couple even had honest to God clean windows.
The amber shadows cast by a lowering sun took on shades of convenient black as the ninja made his way across the street, each shade warm and inviting. People filed past him entering cars or apartments, each ignoring him after a long day of toiling under bosses, secretaries, vice presidents and the people in charge. Which suited him just fine.
The last thing Don needed at this point was someone wondering why he was wearing an oversized trench coat and large brimmed fedora. He really didn't feel like giving the summer cold, burn victim or (Mikey's personal favourite) embarrassing rash excuses.
Mike and Raph were helping April and Casey move some stuff into the apartment, and Leo and splinter were busy in some other part of the sewer practising some katana technique Leo had been dying to work on.
Good thing to, he'd seemed freaked out by something lately that was labelled "just a dream" but was probably more.
All in all, no real need to hurry home. If Mikey had been left alone in the lair at this time in the evening it would be a defcon six priority he got home before his younger brother broke something important.
As was he could be back at the lair, relaxed and curled up on the couch well into "The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy" before the others returned, with Mikey prepared to create a meal of prime stake with peas, carrots and mash potatoes and his special sushi just for sensei .
God I can nearly taste those mashed potatoes. Reptilian feet quickened their pase slightly. Still taking his time, he took several winding alleys, making his way towards the center of the village. No hurry.
IT waited, trapped in this damnable none space. IT had been so close to victory, victory over those damned mortal monkeys...saiyins.
IT loathed the word.
IT would have yelled it if it had been able to talk...or if it had been capable of communicating anything more than a few primitive grunts, insane war cries and simian jabbering when it was...what was the...word? Yes word.
IT hadn't known ...or cared for...much when it was... alive that was it...but what it did know was starting to slip slowly from what passed for IT'S conscience as IT waited, trapped here in this damnable none space. IT had been close to victory, victory over those damned mortal monkeys ...saiyins.
And because of the lack of that victory IT had the nasty suspicion that IT'S thoughts were starting to go around in...holes...roundness...circles.
And that they or IT would eventually never get the chance to come back.
It was only half way down his fifth alley that Don noticed anything wrong. Perhaps it was the years of ninjitsu training he had gone through with splinter. Perhaps it was the darker shadows in the still amber light of the evening. Perhaps it was the barley audible rustling of leather against air. Perhaps it was some reptilian sense past down from blood thirsty tyrannosaurus to lazy South American lizards but ether way he was being followed.
Oh perfect. He was almost home to. Of course.
Brown paper was thrown with a delicate gesture towards a garbage can, landing gently right side up on a garbage can. There was still hope for the stakes.
Trained muscles formed into place as he shifted his weight into a defensive position, alert for anything. If they came any where near the groceries he wasn't going to be responsible for the outcome.
Black coated malice landed in the in the alley, perfectly, not a pale muscle out of place.
The air took on a clammy quality as two more figures, both female, joined the man blocking the alleyway entrance.
A slight creaking as ancient fence wood swayed and buckled under new weight, blocking the escape route, both male from the thud of large mass on concrete.
A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed it.
That and the fact these new comers wore sunglasses like the three in front.
And as if it couldn't be more obvious, what with the pale skin and gothic leather coats, the apparent leader (the first male) opened his mouth to reveal two sets of fangs.
Vampires. Again.
Why didn't someone start playing organ music just for completion?
Oh well...
IT waited, trapped in this damnable non space...and felt something.
"He told us to prepare to leave."
The apparent leader took one step in Donatello's general direction, two steps, three steps...
Undead eyes took in green muscle, tongue rolling over pearly white fangs.
"...but we have enough time for a little..."
Four steps, five steps, six...
"... snack!"
Lunge and...
"Hut!"
There was the sound of undead flesh meeting green skin.
The leaders head snapped back as he flew, not under his own power, to the entrance and crashed against a parked car.
The alarm, glory be to God, stayed quite.
Don lowered his foot.
"Any one else?"
They all charged. Time, Don reasoned, for his superman impression.
Green leg muscles crouched, tightened, uncurled.
He flipped in mid air listening to the satisfying sound of vampire hitting vampire, a sound like a truck hitting Godzilla.
One of the girls (A wild one with raven hair, a very revelling top and very short mini skirt) rose and lunged towards him.
The two collided in mid air, and Don stared at ice cold eyes as she landed on top of him.
I think I'm in love.
"Hi."
Undead lips opened, an undead tongue sliding around it and liking very sharp fangs!
Don gulped. Then punched her in the face.
Why are the sexy ones always insane or an abomination of humanity or risen from the dead?
The two shaved gorillas were starting to get up and a groan came from the dent of the car roof. Girl #2 beat them all to it how ever, cart wheeling across the alley, high heels smacking into plastron. Don hit the opposite wall; fell to the ground, bounced and lay still. The vampire girl, black hair done into Harley Quinn pigtails, came forward, nails aimed at his neck. The turtle barley managed to roll sideways to avoid it, kicking his assailant in the midriff just above her tight leather pants.
She was down with the rest of them.
Who were starting to pick her up and stagger to their own feet.
This called for a more offensive defence.
Out came the Bo staff.
IT waited, trapped in this damnable non space, experiencing a...sensation...yes...that it recognised. IT had grown too accustomed with it when it was alive.
Strength. Where strength came from. Warrior. A warriors...soul.
Shaved gorilla #1 went down hard as wood met skull. Shaved gorilla # 2 was sent charging into the wall, missing Don's now hand held coat, wielded matador style.
Some kind of wood allergy. Gives me the edge here.
Strong wood flew from hand to reptilian hand, was tossed upwards, caught, and thrust forward. Just to show these undead bastards who they were dealing with.
Unfortunately it went flying as both vampire girls round house kicked it out of his hands. Now what?
IT waited here, trapped in this damnable non space, searched. Found. Struck.
PAIN!
Wrenching, searing needles, which canon balled through Don's chest, burning him in unholy ice, drowning him, enveloping him, killing him. He collapsed as his head began to pound along with the singing in his ears.
"What did you do?"
Raven hair glared. "Nothing. Sound familiar?"
There was a concrete sound as Leaders hand impacted against her cheek. She went down. Hard.
"Hey!" Pig tails accosted.
"You want some of this?!"
Midnight glass regarded each other.
Slowly, ever so slowly, making sure every one of them watched, he liked the red mark. 5 seconds of lustful breathing escaped black painted lips.
"Who's in charge baby?"
"You are Calvin."
"Good girl. Now..."
5 undead eyes regarded spasming mutation.
"...who's up for Chinese?"