Almost home. While Darielle loved walking in the rain, she had already been enjoying it for forty minutes. She was rained out. Her clothes were sopping wet and she looked like she had jumped in the ocean. Her black hair hung in wet ropes around her pale oval face. And the sun was down now, chilling the air. She was feeling it in her bones and her skin had that pasty, soggy look. Her blue eyes just added to her water-logged look. Of course they weren't a deep solid blue. They were that wishy-washy in between blue. Like tinted glass. She looked down the length of street ahead. Her motel was only a few blocks away. She fumbled for her keys, ready to get out of the cold summer rain.
Some of the shops were closing. The Mom and Pop ones didn't stay open late on Fridays and there wasn't much else on this stretch of road. A petite blond stepped out in front of her and Darielle had to stop short and swerve to avoid crashing into her. The blond said nothing, not even seeing Darielle, only the rain. The blond hugged her jacket close to her and Darielle breezed by her. She walked another block, trying to walk as fast as she could. She was starting to feel uneasy. Like someone was watching her. The feeling grew stronger so she started to jog, but froze when she heard a scream behind her that gurgled and stopped suddenly. Her heart pumped and she breathed through her mouth gripping her keys with deadly force. She turned and looked around, the street lamps making it hard to see with all the mist from the rain.
"Oh, God." She whispered. She opened her purse and began feeling for her phone while her eyes searched every shadowy corner as she stepped back the way she had just come.
Then she saw them. In the alleyway. She saw the petite blond against the wall with a man pushing her and holding her there; a hand over her mouth so she couldn't scream again and his other hand held a knife to her throat. Darielle's hand found purchase on her phone and flipped it open as she pulled it from her purse. She began to dial 9-1
"Holy! What…?" A shadow jumped from the roof and tackled the man. The shadow was a long flapping jacket and some kind of hat. He looked like the invisible man… or Humphrey Bogart. And he was kicking the attacker's butt. She saw a flash of silver and realized the attacker had another knife, now one in each hand. But the shadow moved like no one she had ever seen. He moved so fast and liquid she couldn't even see how he flowed into the next move. The shadow dodged every swipe, punch and kick; all the while landing his own on the attacker with an ease that almost seemed to disappoint him. In one final kick, the attacker went sprawling at least 2o feet. From which he promptly fled the scene. The shadow turned to the girl. Darielle could hear:
"You all right, lady?" and then the blond screamed, tripped and fell to the pavement trying to get away. The shadow bent to help her, but something silver flashed again. This time, the knife found its mark and the shadow fell.
Darielle dropped her phone in shock.
"Stop." She croaked weakly. She could not believe what she was seeing. All logic fled her mind. Any other time, she would have fled on instinct away from danger. But this was wrong. She had to do something. So she ran into the alleyway as the woman raised the knife again.
"Stop!" Darielle found her voice and it echoed sharply against the brick.
She jumped in front of the shadow, which now looked like a tan crumpled trench coat. The blond stopped, but didn't lower the knife. Her eyes were wild.
"He's…he's a freak! Do you see? Look at him. A monster! MOVE!" Darielle felt sick. She was terrified, but furious.
"He just saved your life." Darielle explained. "Why don't you return the favor and leave?" She spoke in a calm even voice that the blonde heard as threatening. It was really Darielle trying not to hyperventilate. The blond's eyes flashed over to the trench coat and back to Darielle.
"Leave." Darielle repeated firmly. The girl licked her lips then turned and ran muttering something about a freak lover. Darielle immediately turned around to see how the trench coat shadow was faring. He had managed to prop himself against the alleyway wall. Several rain puddles were a dark tint of red and she saw that his trench coat was soaked darkly at his arm.
"Oh my. Let me call an ambulance." She turned to go grab her phone, which she had dropped at the corner, but he grabbed her arm. Even through her damp sleeves, she could feel he was cold. Her immediate thought was 'He's bad off.'
"No. Ambulance." He wheezed haltingly. She turned and saw his hand. It was green. It had three fingers. It was not human. "Please." He pleaded.
Not taking her eyes off the hand, she said 'okay.' He let her go and his arm fell to his side. He grunted and sat a moment. She stared at him and saw that his hand was not the only green part of him. From what she could see, he was all green. He wore a fedora, so she couldn't see his face. She knew she ought to be frightened by what she was seeing or trying to rationalize it. But in the front of her mind, she knew there wasn't time to worry about that. He could be dying.
She looked to the street. Her motel room was just across the way. She looked back at him and he had slumped a little more. He did not appear to be doing well. Once again, her logic fled her. The imperative was to help.
"My motel room is just over there. We can get out of the rain."
"I'm fine." He rasped. "It's nothing."
"You're not and it's definitely something. At least let's clean it. Otherwise it'll get infected."
"I don't need help." He insisted angrily. She could hear frustration and embarrassment, but also a small bit of fear in his voice.
"You're freezing. At least get inside." She could see him shaking. He sighed and cursed.
"All right." He grudgingly agreed, grunting as she knelt next to him and put his good arm over her neck and helped him up. He was very heavy, but once he got his legs, he barely needed her help. They walked across the street and down the block. She leaned him against the wall while she unlocked her room, then she got him and led him over to the bed. Once he was down, she closed the door and made a bee line for the bathroom where the bandages and antiseptic were. She was prone to cuts and scrapes and always had some on hand wherever she was. Darielle washed her hands thoroughly and went back the room where she left him. He had his arm on his stomach and he was bleeding heavily.
"No!" She yelled. He jerked in surprise and straightened up. She grabbed his injured arm and lifted it. "Keep it up. You don't have to make it easy to bleed out." He said nothing to this, but allowed his arm to remain lifted. She began to take the jacket off and his good hand was on her in a flash.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" He growled. She froze.
"I…I need to see." She said.
"Right. Gotta stare at the freak. Well, I don't think so. Getcha hands offa me."
"I need to see your cut." She corrected, pushing him back down and taking his arm out of the sleeve. She did it so deftly; he almost didn't have time to fight back. If he hadn't lost so much blood, he would have. She was oblivious, searching for the origin of the blood flow.
She grabbed a towel off the table next to her and dabbed it to the wound. It was an old towel so there was no fluff that stuck to the blood. It sopped everything up cleanly. She shivered.
"What, the green gettin' to ya?" He jibed. He didn't like needing help. Certainly not by a strange woman.
"No your arm is…it's …pumping." She shivered again. "And so much." She cringed and dabbed the towel again. She grabbed the antiseptic. "This is going to hurt. I'll count to three and then do it, okay?" She warned. He frowned, but nodded his head once. It had to be done. "One, two." She doused his wound with the liquid and it immediately foamed white.
"Ah! What the-you said three!" He bellowed. His New York accent very strong.
"I heard that people tense up right before they think it will hurt, so the antiseptic is less effective because it can't reach into the bunched areas. Suspense is the worst, so I removed that. Sorry." She added as an afterthought.
"That is it." He started to stand, shakily. But she wasn't letting go of his arm.
"This is going to need stitches." She impressed with importance. "We need to take you somewhere. You need help."
"Hell no." He yanked his arm away, with a growl, causing a fresh flow of blood.
"Stop!" She cried, helplessly. He stopped and raised his hands attempting to back away from her so she wouldn't approach. He stumbled a bit. The loss of blood, she thought.
"Look. I'll go home. My brother, real good with stitches. He's practically a doctor."
"Convenient."
"Not really." He spat. "You think I can waltz into a hospital and just get treated? Yeah, that'll happen. So we kinda had to find a work around."
"Okay. Okay. Then how far is it?" Her immediate acceptance and lack of argument temporarily soothed him, but he didn't like her question.
"Not far," He evaded.
"How far?" She pressed.
"Not. Far." He repeated fiercely. She sighed.
"Okay." She relented, exasperated. "Let's go."
"No way!" He exclaimed. "You can't come."
"No girls allowed?"
"Funny." And he made a face. It was then that she noticed his face. Funny how she had been looking at it, but hadn't had the time to look at it. He was wearing a mask under his hat, like Zorro. It was red which stood out against his green skin. His face was definitely serpentile. He had nose holes like a snake, but no nose. His mouth was human-like, but wide.
He educated her. "No one can go there. I think you're smart enough to figure out why."
"But-"
"I am not leading anyone to my brothers!" He fumed, ferociously. "I would rather die. Do ya get me? Look, thanks for stoppin' that chick, but I got it from here. Okay?" He started to walk, weaving a little.
"And if you pass out along the way?" She called out. "What if someone less scrupulous finds you and decides to look around? What of your brothers then?"
He sighed. Truth be told, his vision was blurring and the earth was moving. And not in a good way. Maybe he could just get close enough to the lair and Michelangelo would find him on patrol. It was stupid to go out without his shell cell. That and the fact that He hadn't fixed the slice in his NightWatcher get up should have been enough to tell him to STAY HOME. But no, he just couldn't skip a night.
"Fine." He relented. She had already put her rain jacket on and now went to grab his injured arm. "No, this one." He said pointing to his other arm.
"No. This arm has to be elevated. I know it's going to hurt, but in the long run it will be better. "
"Whatever." He knew it was getting bad because the fight was leaving him bit by bit.
"Oof," She faltered. "Okay, I need you to walk, guy."
She grumbled, strain heavy in her voice. He took some weight off her and they began to walk. He led her to a manhole and together they got the cover off. He jumped down, landing hard. She took the ladder and resumed her position under his arm again. He led her down a maze of tunnels. She hoped he was not purposefully taking the long way to confuse her. Time would make a difference. She said as much and the path did become a bit more direct. They walked for what seemed like hours, his steps steadily getting weaker and weaving. He finally stumbled and made a half grab at her, but only snagged her silver chain, ripping it clean off. Then he fell into a dirty puddle of sewage.
"Ugh, no!" Bacteria, infection. Just great. She leaned over him, but saw that he was out. She tried to find a pulse and was having trouble because of this thick skin, but then noticed he was still breathing.
"Step away." The voice came from behind her. She froze. What else could go wrong? Muggers in the sewers? Come on! She saw a three pronged short sword in his belt in front of her, so she slowly pulled it out.
"Away!" The voice commanded again. She stood and turned; short sword at the ready.
"Back off." She begged, regrettably no threat in her voice. "We don't have anything." She threw her jacket to show she had no wallet.
The shadow stepped out just a little, but not into the light. It was a veiled threat. Intimidation. Because she wasn't intimidated enough at the moment.
"We only want him." Out of the shadow came a long sword that pointed to the collapsed trench coat. She bit her lip. She turned back.
"Why?" She didn't lower her sword. She unconsciously reached for her necklace with her other hand, only to remember it was probably in putrid water at the moment.
"Cause he's our brother, dude." Came another voice from her left. She looked and saw…a turtle. A giant freaking turtle. About 5 feet tall. Standing on two feet complete with shell. He had an orange mask on like the shadow and he was twirling what she recognized to be nunchucks. Right. She gazed back at the unconscious figure and agreed that they probably were brothers. The green skin and all.
"Dudette." Orange amended on seeing her.
"He's hurt." She informed, dropping the weapon and stepping away. She didn't want to impede assistance. "He's lost a lot of blood."
The other came out of the shadow and ran to his brother's side. He looked like the other one, but he had a blue mask and two long swords.
"Raph." He said and shook the limp brother. He looked up to the other brother. "Mikey."
"I'm on it." He drawled. He got the legs and the two carried their brother off. She watched, helpless. It was probably best to leave.
"Why don't you come with me?" She whirled around and saw another one! Purple mask and a long stick. Well, at least it didn't seem as lethal.
"Um, I could just…" She feebly pointed in the other direction.
"Come with me." He finished her trailing sentence. She swallowed hard and nodded. He walked her forward and she felt like a herded prisoner. Well, she reasoned, all they know is their brother is badly wounded and I was crouched over him with his sword. Looks pretty bad. Now that she didn't have the responsibility of helping someone, she returned to her normal self. Before, she had been acting on instinct to preserve another life. Now, she had nothing else to think of except how bad this looked and how he had said he would die rather than lead anyone to his brothers…
They came to a large entry way and Purple gently pushed her through when she hesitated to look around. She went in and saw…a home: a couch, TV, gaming equipment, machinery strewn helter-skelter, a dining area. The blue turtle came back and nodded to her guard. Her guard went into a side tunnel. She assumed that must be where the fallen brother was. Her new guard nodded to the table. She sat. He did not.
"So. What happened to my brother?" He crossed his arms, brooking no argument while keeping his voice a calm, but powerful weapon of its own.
"Um, he got stabbed." She mumbled.
"Yes. I saw that. I would like to know how. Do you know how it happened?" While the words weren't cruel, there was a definite tone to them. Clearly he felt he was speaking to the person who possibly killed his brother.
"There was a woman." She offered. Unsure how to begin. If she tried too hard to defend herself, it wouldn't help her case.
"Yes?"
"She was attacked by this man. And he, your brother, stopped him." Blue raised his head and sighed in frustration to her response.
"So he was playing vigilante and got hurt in the fight." He concluded.
"Um…no. He beat the attacker. He ran away. But the woman…she, well she just stabbed him." Blue's eyes went wide and then narrowed.
"And you weren't the woman, right?" He asked, clearly believing she was.
"No." She answered, slightly offended. She had been staring at the table the whole time. She knew it made her look guilty, but she couldn't look up. She would crumble. Eyes had power over her. They could crush her. She was only strong looking away. "I saw it."
"And you decided to help my brother."
"I got him out of the rain."
"And brought him here."
"Yes."
"And that's what happened."
"Yes." She remembered being in traffic court once. Her lawyer had stressed short one word answers. Don't give the prosecution anything to work with. Blue sighed.
"Okay. Well, you'll have to stay here for now. Just till we figure this out." She nodded at the table, clasping her hands. Just then, she saw a giant rat walk into the room Purple went to. He wore a red robe and walked with a cane. But he was moving with some urgency. She began to pick at her cuticle. Where was she? How was this happening? Alice down the rabbit hole didn't even come close to her reality right now.