I do not own TMNT, though I wish I did.
"Hey Amelia, I dare you to go into the sewers!"
"Me too! Do it Amelia!"
"I double dog dare you to go in!"
"Now you have to!"
This is the first dare I don't want to do. Living in New York makes the idea of going to the sewers terrible. There's some disgusting stuff down there. "No." My answer to their dare is definite.
"I'll give you five bucks!"
"I will too!"
"Yeah, me too. We all will."
"Uh huh. Me too."
I can't. I have to. I have no money or food, and without family or money, I'm gonna die. All I have is the orphanage. I shake my head a little.
"You only have to go down for a minute, that's it."
"Ya, please?"
I look at them with worried eyes. Like they said, I won't be down long, right? I'll just go down and come back up, and that's it. I'll have food for a while. I need twenty bucks. A sixteen year old girl needs food, even if she's just some twig-like girl practically all skin and bones, even a girl with the figure of a stick, long, thin, and no curves- aka me. I really need that food. I give in and nod solemnly. "Fine, but only for a minute. And there better damn be plenty of money shelled out when I'm done."
"Awesome-o! I'll lift the manhole cover." With a screech the innards of NY are uncovered, and I am ushered inside, the social pariah pushed to her lowest. As I descend the small, old ladder, cheers emanate from above. I go down rapidly, but about midway my foot slips and a sickening crack breaks the quiet. Bars where my feet were supposed to go had rusted to nearly dust, and disintegrated when I encountered them. Slipping down fast, my arms jolt with the shock and having to hold all my weight.
Crud. Hovering over the grime beneath me, I begin to feel all the slime on the bar my hands hold to. Palms wetting with sweat and the stuff on the bar, I can't hold on longer. I let go. Impact hits my feet and legs hard, and I look up at the faces that linger near the manhole. "Sorry, But I've gotta go." The words drop like stones to my shoulders. "We need to cover the manhole, I'm sorry." No. This can't be happening. They're abandoning me. The cover screeches back over the opening and I am shrouded in darkness.
At least I have no family that will worry over me. At least the other school kids will know what happened. My real friends will come get me when they see I'm missing at school, they'll help me. They have to. They're my friends, right? Friends help friends out of trouble. Rats scuttle around and remind me how light would be very helpful right now, and I open my purse and scramble for my Swiss Army Knife. Pulling out the little flashlight on it, I push the button and let there be light. Actually, I wish there wasn't light, because now I can see where I am. It's pretty terrifying to see rats scurrying about you and trying to nibble on your hand-me-down red converse hi-top trainers like they're cheese. "Get off!" I kick them away and fluff up for a moment, and they scuttle for their tiny lives. My friends better come damn quick.
It was late when I left to the sewers. I've been standing around for a while. What time is it? How will I get out? Mainly, what's gonna happen to me? Frankly, I'm scared for my life. Might as well get on the move.
I walk dead ahead, unknowing of anything farther than a two yard radius. Shadows -large ones- cross just beyond my field of vision. Walking faster, there's more. "Hello?" Silence, more shadows. "Hello?" Nothing. Now I'm scared. "Who are you? Hello?" Moments pass and I yell again to the dark, "What are you? Please answer, for god's sake!" Then something answers.
"Don't cuss." It's a deep voice with something like a Brooklyn accent, and I take a step back.
"Ok. As I asked, who are you?" I whimper slightly. A new voice answers.
"Why do you care?" It's creepy.
"How many of you are there? Please… I feel weird to ask, but… can you help me?" the shadows turn to each other.
"Four. Help with what?" It's another new voice, and I shake my head. This is NOT where I want to be. I can take three of my average fighters, the ones I'm used to, at best.
"I got stuck down here. The ladder disintegrated in my hands." What I tell is the truth; they don't need to know what got me down here though.
"Well you're screwed." Says another voice, the final if they tell the truth about their numbers. These words bring disagreement.
"Not funny!" One of them whispers, the third I heard I think.
"Seriously Mikey. Someday I'm gonna kill you." It's the first, and he's not happy.
"Whoa, sorry, I'll shut up." This is apparently Mikey, and then this brings on all the other voices saying at once, 'finally!' Normally I would laugh, but in the stress of the moment, I really can't. The shadows gather together, talk amongst themselves too quietly for me to hear, and disperse. I have no clue where any of them went and begin to go forward when I feel there is something behind me. Fueled with fear, I whip around in a roundhouse kick up high, where someone's face would be. It falls for a moment and I train my light on it as it rises. Instead of finding a monster, I see a man clad in black and purple get up. The next thing I know, something sharp is digging into my middle, and as I pull away something hits me in the head and I knock out.
Slowly my head begins to clear and I open my eyes, but I'm sure I must still be dreaming. Because in front of me there is something humanoid, but with the shell and color of a turtle. It even has the yellow front plating. It's not possible. Rather than being rude and freaking out about the mirage, I choose to act like nothing is out of the ordinary. I say, "Hello. Where am I? Who are you? And how long have I been out?" I stare at the strange creature, noting the thin purple mask that was slipped around its eyes, with holes for the eyes. Attached to a cord going over one shoulder and down the side is what I think might be a Bo staff. Surprisingly, my hallucination responds with information I didn't have. And with one of the voices I heard when I was in the sewer.
"You're in our home, I'm Donatello, and you've been out only an hour or so." He looks as confused as I must, for only a moment later he calls out, "She's up!" then looks at me again. Something in my mind begins to register. I have the weird feeling that this is no dream, and… Donatello really exists. Besides the terrifying thought of him being real, a new thought crowds my mind: I was probably carried here. I don't think they found my secret, but anyone who lifts me would find out how light I am, and would feel my bones that stick out all too much. I lived in an orphanage, but they didn't take care of us, so I rarely saw food, and what I saw, I gave to the younger kids at the orphanage we called home. Donatello speaks quietly to me. "Are you hungry? ... We carried you here and..." He looks down to his odd hands, which have two fingers and a thumb, rather than four fingers. I see the look on his face and immediately want to be helpful.
"I'm pretty hungry." I say quietly, and it seems to calm him.
"I'll get you some food then-" He is immediately cut off by the slightly higher voice I remember belonging to someone called Mikey.
"I'm coming up, I wanna meet her." There is the sound of feet going up steps, and Donatello slips out of the room I'm in, quickly replaced by another humanoid turtle, much like the other, with only a different skin color- more evergreen-, a orange band, and nunchucks tied around his waist rather than a Bo staff. We both stare at each other a moment, and finally I ask if I'm dreaming or not. With a laugh he shakes his head. This is real. This can't be real. But it is. My head starts to hurt from the confusion, so I stop worrying. This is real life. Weird stuff happens. I need to get used to it. I prop myself up with my arms and see the bandage around my waist and the red that has begun to seep through. I'm guessing it's not a good thing. I stare at where the slice of me must have been taken out in wonder. I'm used to fighting, but I don't do knife fights, not after that last one for the loaf of bread. I nearly died that time, but we ate very well. He must notice where I look because he answers a question I didn't know I had. "You got sliced with a sword. Not terribly, but most would be out a lot longer than you. It was one of the foot clan. There were only two of them though, so they weren't much trouble. The one you kicked went down pretty hard though, you must've done a good job." I look at him in confusion. I'm used to a little street fighting, but for a moment I don't know what he's talking about. He finally explains. "The Foot Clan is a group of ninjas that like to cause trouble. The clan disagrees with us a lot, those two were probably simply out after their shift." He smirks, and it clicks into place. They are hunted. Probably for 'science'. Everything I know of fairness screams against it, that no one could be that cruel, but my knowledge of the human race says that they would. With ease.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, but he shakes it off quickly, and I have the feeling he knows what I'm sorry about. Being human when humans are terrible.
"It's okay. It's not like you chose it to happen. We just have to play with the hands we're dealt." I smile, because I know the saying well. I'm a girl with a penchant for plants and poker, and have excellent luck in both, but I know what it means to throw a hand. I know what he means when he implies a poor hand. We both sit in silence, he on the edge of the couch I have been set on, when Donatello comes back in with a slice of pizza in his right hand and an almost sheepish look on his face, and I go dead silent. I've only stolen a slice once, and the man who I stole from nearly cut off my hand for it. I merely watch him quietly, fearing for the first time they may not like me, they may choose to do as the man had and try to kill me.
Fear registers in my eyes and Donatello looks worried. "Here, eat it. You must be hungry." He hands me the piece, which is larger than the one I stole, yet thinner. Eyes trained on Donatello for the least sign of maliciousness, I take a hesitant bite. Warm sauce coats sweet bread, with the delicious pepperoni biting in with its spiced meat flavor. I love it. I take another bite, and after a quick look at Mikey and Donatello, I rip into the food ravenously, letting my hunger get the best of me for a moment.
With a laugh, Mikey says, "Are you a little hungry?" as I take my last bite of crust.
With a smile, I respond, "Thanks. Can you two help me get something straight?" They look to each other and nod. "You got me out of the sewer tunnels, but I'm a little confused. When I was there, there were four of you…?" I stop the question midway, feeling like by asking I would be rude. It takes only a moment for Mikey to explain.
"There are four of us. I'm Michelangelo, but call me Mikey, this is Donatello. The other two are out right now, but the one with a red band is Raphael, and the one with blue is Leonardo." I only knew Donatello, and I am glad to know the rest, and yet both Don and I seem surprised at the straightforwardness of what he said, and I remember something about being polite.
"I'm- My name is Amelia." The words tumble out and stumble over one another like water. I smile and say, "Thank you for your hospitality, but I'm guessing I should…leave…" My words slow as I hear a TV a little bit away with the news on. Some anchorwoman is telling the city about the supposed arsonist who has burned down Second Chance Orphanage. My orphanage.
Donny speaks slowly. "That's where you're from, isn't it?" I nod in agreement, and he speaks again. "Then you will have to accept our hospitality a little longer."
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