Disclaimer. I do not own TMNT, as much as I'd like to. A few characters are of my own invention, as is the plot, but other than that, all credit goes to the creaters of TMNT 2003. Please Read and Review. :)
Midnight. Known for its silence and serenity. The perfect balm for an overworked mind. It had only been for a few seconds that Donatello slipped outside, enjoying the view from the cold roof and relaxing in the gentle night breeze. Nothing had alerted him to the threat drawing ever closer, shielded by the shadows. He never would have known that anyone else had been on the roof that night if not for the cool blade that slipped in-front of his throat and the icy voice that told him to stand.
Don stood slowly, his fingers itching to grab his bo. The wood shaft still lay at his feet, useless to him now. Leo would be so disappointed. "There's a good turtle," the same ice cold voice came, "Now, walk with me," It was a male voice, cold and crisp yet filled with a youthful energy. It wasn't the shredder, nor Stockman. Who ever it was had too calm a presence to be a mere foot ninja. This was someone completely new.
"Who are you?" Don asked, reaching out to his weapon carefully with his foot. The blade pressed harder into the soft flesh of his throat, drawing a line of crimson that ran over the silver surface. "I would not recommend getting any closer to that weapon,"
A shadow flashed past, vanishing as fast as it appeared. The bo disappeared with it. Don gulped. The man behind him gave a low, humorless laugh. "Surprised, turtle? I have seen many ninja with skill far beyond your own try that very trick. Pitiful really, how predictable you all are." A note of bitterness had crept into the man's voice, leaving Don with an itch to turn and see who his assailant was. "Regardless. This will come later, after we have figured out who lies beneath this mask of yours. For now, we walk."
The blade disappeared from Don's throat and reappeared behind him, pressed against the back of his neck with just enough pressure to draw blood, but not enough to cause real damage. "Walk,"
Don took a step forward, his eyes scanning the shadows, seeking both an escape and a possible clue to the man behind him. The darkness blinked back, determined to keep her secrets. "Faster, If you please."
Don sped up slightly, still aware of the presence of the knife on his skin and the blood leaking down from the cut on his throat. Alone, he stood no chance, but if he could reach his shell cell...
They reached the edge of the building and the man called for a halt. Around him, Don could feel the shadows still under the command. Fingers reached up, cold and thin, to tug at the strings of Don's mask. The purple material came away, leaving the turtle feeling naked and exposed to the world. Chill fingers pressed the material to the cut on Don's neck for a few seconds, moping up the blood that had gathered there. "We can't have you bleeding to death, can we turtle."
The world spun as the man twisted Don around to face him. He was taller than Don had expected, with short cropped white hair. His eyes were hidden behind heavily tinted glasses. In the dark of the night, Don could make out the faint trace of a scar, stretching up from the mans lip and disappearing behind the lenses. The mans clothes were pristine. A black suit that blended perfectly with the night. Beneath the black, the white of an undershirt, broken only by the thick, grey tie stood out.
The man placed a cold finger under Don's chin, forcing him to look up. With his other hand, he raised his glasses and peered at the wound. His eyes were pale, but in the darkness, Don could not decide on the colour. The scar he had noticed before stopped just short of the mans eye, forming a pale crescent shape across his youthful face. The man appeared to come to a decision. "It's just a scratch," he said, dabbing at the forming beads of blood, "It will heal without aid."
The man released the mask, allowing the wind to snatch it and send it drifting back across the building behind them. Without much warning, Don was spun back around. "Now," the knife returned to its position against the back of Don's neck. "Enough playing around. Let us continue."
New York city is a different place after dark. The streets are death traps, the shadows watch you and unspeakable things creep closer with every step. Don stood alone, the alley way was void of movement, but his training told him different. He closed his eyes, trying to remove the distraction of sight. A cat yowled somewhere close by. The breeze scraped discarded littler across the damp concrete floor. Wind chimes sang from within the open window of a little shop to the right. Nothing else moved.
Don felt a shiver creep through him, standing exposed in the claustrophobic alleyway. The man had lead him across the rooftops, a ghost like presence stalking behind. They had walked until the bitter cold of the wind had numbed Don's senses and he was only barely aware of the city moving by. Without words, the man had then guided him to abandon the rooftops and jump down into the alleyway where he now stood. The knife had disappeared. Don waited, but nothing came. He turned a cautious eye around to peer into the darkness behind him. The cold, empty darkness.
Instinctively, he had reached for his shell cell, hope of escape flaring in his chest and warming his numb limbs, but the device was gone. His hope spluttered out like a dying flame. The cold returned.
It was a feeling, rather than an actual, logical sense. Don opened his eyes. The man stood, just inches from him. A combination of the night gloom and the mans impenetrable shades rendered his expression unreadable. There was a shift in the shadows behind him. He didn't need to turn to know that the hidden people had returned. "Come," the man said, his voice still colder than the night air around them. Don obeyed, following the silhouette until he came to a stop at the brick ending of the alley way. To Don's amazement, the wall opened, like a door of sorts. He found himself wondering about the technology of the door. The man pulled him inside and the door shut behind them. Lights flickered on, blinding don before he could block them out. The man gave a smile. "Now then. Lets begin with something easy. What is your name?"