Nirvana
AN: So…hopefully this will get off the ground and receive the same kindness as Enigma I have the pieces but we'll see how they're connected now that the main drama has passed. The days may have lapsed between the day I should've posted it but I've been exhausted. Hopefully (and I hope I did) I got this up before work. I started typing it late on my off day and I either fell asleep on the keyboard or went to bed early in the morning. Anyway, folks, I hope you enjoy this as much as Enigma! And if one pays attention we may yet get a surprise in the first chapter :)!
FOR ANY NEWCOMERS: (Probably unnecessary, but still) PLEASE READ Enigma FIRST.
Note One: This story happens one year after the events of Enigma. I will have Japanese words in this story (as I believe, personally, Leo would use a bit of Japanese here and there) and if they are not translated in the following paragraph or so I'll put in a key in the authoress note. Usually I'll translate it in the sentence like I did with Camilla.
Note Two: This story will be significantly darker and more emotional than Enigma but it will possess the same...allure, if you will, that had people so captivated in the puzzle/complexity of the first story. My summary may be iffy but I can't really think of how to introduce this since I never fully planned to make a sequel, if anyone has any summary suggestions please feel free to tell me! You guys know I thank and respond to comments of my readers with sincerity and honesty, and great happiness.
The gates were not yet open, sunlight glistening upon every inch of chain link intermeshed to make tiny diamonds against the golden sun rising above Manhattan. Two men stood at the fence, glancing around curiously, wondering if today would be one of their busy days, or, better yet, the day someone found out. "Outer perimeter secure." the white-stitched name, Iago, crinkled as he pulled his blue jean-coddled arm away from his mouth. A small buzz any six-A.M. onlooker may hear was put off as something askew with the public announcement system; but then again, no one happened by at six A.M. That, specifically, was one of the reasons the place was chosen in foresight to the oncoming storm Bishop had made a mere year ago.
His companion, Max Tejano, gave one last look before slipping inside the automated, closing fence. They were like ghosts in the game-ridden amusement park. The tape didn't even roll until they were secured down below with the others, with the missing, forgotten, and the dying. At the moment, they had the advantage. Cameras were in every booth now that the missing child rates had shot up—gradually, but enough population geeks got together to realize the numbers may be small but they were no less severe and could spark a trend—and all their lights refused to glow, the boss had yet to trigger the film.
Those that would review Coney Island security footage would just think they worked for maintenance, and in a sense, they did. Making the world clean and beautiful. Void of susceptibility to disease, weakness, entrapment, and even death. It was a work in progress; weeding out the thin, keeping the strong and healthy. Not to mention the cameras could always have software updating and that's why no tape recorded the entrance of two workers at six thirteen on a Saturday morning.
Beyond the pretzel vendor and diagonal from the booth with stacked milk glasses (an archaic thing, but an amenity nonetheless to amusement park-goers) bearing an alarming neon pink sign dictating the price of three tries at a dollar lay what Max referred to as "the honey hole". To the right of the milk-stacked booth beneath a strategically-placed large trashcan lay the trap door they sought. It was the source of their job, their income, and "playmates" making the ground beneath it divine nectar. Sweet honey for the taking. Max (the lookout of the pair) gave one last look to the nearest camera to make sure that the boss had indeed continued to withhold filming.
Max, being the most suspicious, wouldn't hold his breath on the boss not filming them for blackmail. In fact, he'd almost count on it as a means of collateral. Iago held the trap door open, afraid of the very echo of the slab in the silent park (the resonance was criminal to the silence, their job) as Max slipped inside. The two men fell a short distance of eight inches before reversing the natural squat position, taking their hats off as they looked around the tunnel. Any second the red beam would end the DNA scan and light the way for the employees.
Like any major theme park Coney Island had a twisting, dark work of tunnels beneath it to accommodate the employees and bring a little mystery as to how things got fixed when broken. Plus traveling underground really cut down on having to move through the stuffy crowds of impatient, excited people trying to cram every ride, game, and food item into their senses before having to leave. A gentle hum growled throughout the whole main tunnel that would soon branch off to eight serpentine choices and Max and Iago looked around briefly to make sure every butter-colored spot blinked. "Identification accepted, welcome to Misellus Corp." after the automated voice spoke they were free to move. For some reason the boss decided heavily upon DNA scans…after all, what could they be but human?
Only after extensive screening tests and what seemed to be a billion sworn statements could they even walk the path beneath the park. Their boss had very strict rules about the operation. Speak to no one unless they have the tattoo, do as I and I alone say; the regular stuff. Now whether or not the two had sick, suffering morals to speak of was unknown. Iago and Max had become near-experts in being secretive, conniving, and deadpanned after a year of working with the boss.
The boss was happy to take the discarded of other scientific companies. Trekking down the main hall and taking the third tunnel from the left Iago and Max went into a large, open area void of humming machines and looked up to the ceiling. Their boss's voice always came through camouflaged speakers in the ceiling, and camera eyes were always watching. In the full year they'd been employed with Misellus Corp neither of them had seen the boss, but constantly suspected "the boss" to be male due to the deep, warbling voice that addressed them. Before they could go into the room that branched off to the left of the seemingly vacant area their employee IDs had to be scanned in the large crack running down the length of the cobblestone wall.
For whatever reason, Iago and Max had never truly been told what caused the boss to have such an affinity for trickery, hiding, and intense disguise, the underground was riddled with hidden traps, scans, and various password-ID related seals. To even be an employee they had to sign death waivers should they forget the code or trigger a trap. The boss was just covering the basics. Max and Iago knew, however, the traps weren't to keep the humans out (well, it was if they didn't have the proper credentials) but the traps were made to keep their "guests" in. With a woosh! the hidden stone door eased back on well-oiled tracks to reveal a polished, high-tech laboratory just beyond a slight depression that acted as a pathway to the center of the beeping, humming machines.
Two computers, each acting with connected intelligence and three screens were at the right of the room, humming with life and light. These two computers acted as a catalogue and technical roulette table for candidates that were to be "pursued with interest" by those working for the boss. Those valiant souls giving up their lives to perfect the cause, the goal. On the far left of the room sat—lined up side-by-side—a gurney complete with straps beneath a suspended, dangling square of various "medical" equipment, a gynecologist chair, and a large lab table looking like something out of Frankenstein because of the various colored substances and odd machines occupying it. In the left corner was an empty, obnoxiously large, rotund cage made of Plexiglas and steel, enhanced with the latest patented security such as hair, fingerprinting, retinal, padlock, and voice activation.
This cage, though empty and clean, had a label. It had been empty since Iago and Max began to work for Misellus Corp. but the boss constantly assured—with the passing days—it would soon be filled. Max walked up to the cage absently, brushing a finger across the label nearly as wide as it was long, fingering the dual-language text (English and Japanese) curiously. Hamato, Leonardo…who was that? That one wasn't in the catalogue.
Iago wiggled the mouse on the left computer to stir up the screens and see what was on the priority list today. The main screen had the catalogued experiments and he scrolled down the large list for the flashing ones. Flashing names indicated something need to be done, whether it be feeding, cleaning, assistance to the breeding room, or back to the lab for birthing. Blazing a silent pink-to-red on the burgundy background Iago clicked "005: Jezebelle Lincoln", watching the message from the boss open. Inside were the instructions as to what needed to be done for the cat hybrid with the longest survival record.
She had outlived four of her predecessors, and for some odd reason the boss had abducted only girls with "J" names for the cat experiments. Perhaps he or she had liked Josie and the Pussycats as a kid. Jezebelle had lasted a whole year with her mutation, and the boss was quite pleased. But now, like everything, her usefulness had been fulfilled and it was time to say goodbye.
TO IAGO AND MAX,
006 HAS BEEN SUCCESSFULLY WEANED, PLEASE REMOVE HIM FROM THE CAGE AND TAKE 005 TO THE PIER. WE NO LONGER NEED THE OLD PUSSYCAT. WE HAVE A NEW ONE NOW. HOPEFULLY THE OFFSPRING WILL PROVIDE A MORE DOMINANT SECOND STRAIN THAN THE OLD CAT. SHE ENDURED, BUT UNFORTUNATELY SHE WAS A WASTE. TODAY SHE MUST BE DUMPED, IT WILL BE EASIER TO CATALOGUE HER TIME. IT'S HER ONE-YEAR ANNIVERSARY.
LET HER GO OUT WITH SOME FIGHT. THOSE THOUGHTS OF "I ALMOST" WILL CONSOLE HER AS SHE HITS THE BOTTOM OF THE HUDSON.
WHAT DO I ALWAYS SAY? NO SECOND STRAIN, NO GOOD. IN THE WORDS OF MY CO-OWNER "THAT'S WHAT BAD PUSSY GETS." YES…WE DON'T WANT TO MEET HIM, DO WE? I'M MUCH NICER THAN HIM. WE ALL KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE COMES. DON'T REALLY WANT TO REPAINT THE WALLS, DO YOU?
PLEASE MAKE SURE TO TAKE THE REHEARSED PROCAUTIONS WHEN DISPOSING OF HER. DROP HER DEEP SO SHE DOESN'T RESURFACE. YOU KNOW THE DRILL, AND YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU FAIL. DON'T FAIL ME…MY TRIGGER FINGER'S BEEN GETTING ITCHY.
YOURS TRULY,
THE BOSS.
Six A.M. was hardly busy for the underground home but Maeleyn was already wide awake, something uncharacteristic of her. Something was going on. Even without spending a year with the guys, with her family, and being exposed—wrapped in—to all sorts of spiritual practices and sensitivity she could tell something was odd about this morning. Why this day she couldn't tell, but it was definitely something. Her body was too warm next to Raph in their hammock to be getting a cold chill, and yet her asparagus green skin was marred with millions of raised pores.
She found herself spending more time down here than at her real house, with her father, but he understood. The sewers had become like a new home to her, a new haven, in her time of need last year when life was constantly hanging in the balance. Kier didn't let that become a barrier though; she constantly visited him above ground in her disguise and he constantly came down the elevator with gifts, news, and hugs for them all. The Spector male had become like an uncle to the turtles; another adult human they could trust, and someone slightly before Casey and April due to him being the father of Raphael's girlfriend. He was anything from "laid back" concerning his little girl though.
Kier spent two whole weeks each month reviewing with Donatello the embarrassing "talk" for Maeleyn and Raph, checking sperm samples and urine to make sure she wasn't pregnant (surprisingly, he'd taken Aisoku's brief presence and swift death gently, and not with the "how could you?" rage Maeleyn expected him to), and having a "friendly" man-to-man with the jade-green terrapin intent on mating, keeping, and protecting his daughter. Needless to say Raphael and Maeleyn had a crystal-clear idea of what her father expected of them, and just how to break the news in case something did come up whilst on the topic of "pregnancy". The navy man was slightly lenient though. Raph was a good kid, decent head on his shoulders.
Knew how to fight. And he was raised by a damn good father, regardless of the species. He knew he had very little to worry about should the two "knock knees" as he liked to call it. Maeleyn shook her head, rubbing her chin lightly against Raph's shoulder as she pulled out of all the tangling, sweet sleep-inducing memories of acceptance and fondness from her father towards her "family". The feeling wouldn't go away, and it certainly didn't like being put on the back burner behind nostalgia and joy.
It was as if a voice, a heavenly, calm, disembodied voice convinced her to move. "Be aware…" it said. Though she knew nothing of the mysterious intuitive, other-power feeling she knew she must listen to it. "Something will happen today, something you will not want to miss." and it was right. Maeleyn almost felt guilty. Today was the two-year anniversary of her missing friend, Jezebelle.
Usually, if she were in Rhode Island, she'd go lay a bouquet of lilies and pink iris flowers on her grave. She looked down at her hand absently, and the appendage was numb since it had been tucked under her side for sleep. During this time of year, when it was just growing cold and snow was roughly a month from falling, the bouquet would crinkle and weigh down her hand. Maeleyn felt bad that, because of her new form, she couldn't spend the proper time with the shoddy memoriam she'd set up for her in Manhattan. Unfortunately for ninjas, good earth couldn't always be found in solitude-hearty places.
A collection of twigs, a small wooden shrine similar to a bird house (except for the fact it was open-faced, holding a framed picture Maeleyn had offered, and had a single unlit candle for company) that Leonardo and Splinter had made resting in two fake pink and white garlands Mikey strung together denoted her presence. She had been somebody. She was missed. Maeleyn had been touched that the brothers had even participated in making something for her friend, whom they did not know, and loved it dearly. Don put a medium sized, smooth rock atop the garlands just off-center from the shrine with Jezebelle's name written in Japanese kanji.
Today should be no different…she should still pay her a visit. Or, at least do something to make up for it. It would ease her mind, and maybe force the nervous air around her. Maybe the same unsettling air was trapped in the lair. Swinging her feet gently off and over to the side of the hammock Maeleyn got up, careful not to wake her boyfriend.
She smiled as Raph moved his arm over into her receding warmth and continued to snore. He'd be fine. Slipping outside into the living room she exhaled. The day, just like last year, was electric and sadly magical. Leo was just slipping out of the dojo with a candle in his palm, the wick drooping and well used. He'd been meditation.
"While I may have been able to utilize my chakra, still myself, and attain the spirituality I sought, you can't. Energies can be felt at amazing distances, depending on their strength. Is it…about your friend?" for a second Maeleyn was taken aback. For a mere second Leo had Splinter's warm, knowing eyes. Eyes wise and deep-seeing beyond his twenty years, but eyes that suited him.
"Yeah…" she grumbled, ruffling her dark hair lazily, wondering if her fatigue was due to true sleep or just a consequence of the ambience for the day.
"Then I suppose it's a good thing I asked April to get these for you…you know, for her." Leo pulled a bouquet of pink irises and lilies from behind his shell. He grinned softly when Maeleyn's face lit up, twisted in shock, awe, and sibling adoration. Leo's really a perfect poster boy, isn't he? Maeleyn though to herself as she cautiously grabbed the flowers. This all seemed like a dream, but Leo knew how important this day was for her to honor.
And if there was any turtle big on honor, it was Leo. "If I've been calling you 'sister' for a year I figured I'd get something I knew would benefit my sister's soul." along with Donatello and Michelangelo Leo had a strong sense of healthy spirit, of listening to that higher power and attaining a firm link between mind, body, and soul. Raph was more or less 'I deal with what I made and there's no 'higher power' about it.' unless something really happens to make him say otherwise. If anything has happened like that he's been quite about it, so Maeleyn hasn't seen otherwise on his opinion.
"Thank you Leo."
"You're welcome, imouto." Little sister…Maeleyn gave a tiny smile. At first in her relationship with Raph he'd seemed rigid, slightly accepting, but generally defensive of his younger brother. His immediate baby brother. But after dealing with the Hunter his attitude changed. Leo saw her as a protector, like him, but also someone who needed protecting, and let that guarding wall down for someone who would ultimately become family.
Here, especially with the special attention he paid to the day so important to Maeleyn, she really felt the connection. Leo was indeed the poster boy for the first born, and the "nice older brother". "So why don't we go get the others up and go…um…what do you want to do? To honor her? Go to the shrine?"
"No," Maeleyn whispered, stroking a few of the petals lightly in thought. Jezebelle had loved the water, the ocean. She'd only swim in safe water, like pools, but with the ocean wide and deep, a pretty azure mirror for the sky, she often found a place to think in it. The sounds of the waves reaching forward and rolling back, surging forward and receding softly helped her mellow out. "I want to go pick the petals off and put them in the ocean for her…she loved the water. It was her way of chilling out, listening to it and all. Sort of like your meditation music that Mike swears sounds like sex on a CD." the eldest hardened a bit when reminded of his CDs but found the authentic Japanese noises to stimulate his fighting skills, train his senses to handle chaos, and generally got him "geeked" to fight.
She laughed at his expression. "You go get Raph up and I'll tell Master Splinter. Hey, Donnie, can you get Mikey up?" the purple bandanna-wearing turtle poked his head out lazily from the kitchen. His coffee mug true and tried in his hand, one cup almost gone. He licked the brown ring from around his lips and nodded, brown eyes not yet fully alive and the genius not awake to the full extent. Leo walked into his father's room, disappearing from sound and sight as Maeleyn walked back to wake Raphael up.
Her blanched almond fur glinted dimly in the weak lighting just strong enough to color the grey on her cage. She raised her head, the ears near the top of her head twitching. They were coming. Jezebelle raised her head higher, faster, at the approaching footfalls. Her child, the proclaimed "cub-kitten mix", Orion shifted his somewhat-furry head into her bare breast and continued to knead the once human mammary gland as the milk filled his little maw.
Officially nine weeks old Orion should be weaned but his sensitive little nose picked up scents of men that weren't his mother, and he refused to drink the milk that reeked of those strangers. He wanted his mother. She arched her back high, higher than a normal human should be able to for her five-one stature. The fur of her naked back bristled like needles drawn up by magnetism undetermined, adding to her curled-lip look of rage. They were going to take her baby.
Jezebelle gently took the chin of her hybrid child into her mouth, being extremely careful, and bit down just the tiniest fraction; not enough to hurt him, but he knew what she was doing. It was a cat kiss in the native feline tongue. Her three fingers clenched the smooth metallic cage bottom hard underhand and the burgundy-brown claws emerged out of furry vanilla sheaths. They would not have him. She wouldn't let them.
"Mer-r-r-r-row…" using her cat vocals that had, a year ago, been inserted and forcibly bound on a cellular level to her human parts (which was only a result of extensive surgery and further body reconstruction to allow her bones to be as flexible as a true cat's). She was telling the baby to take cover. Blindly, his eyes not yet open, he began to weakly walk away, falling and dragging, rolling in the cute kitten way, mewing high-pitch and fast along the way. Orion wanted to know what the source was for such frantic motion. She knew, and she would protect him.
"Mer ROW!" emphasis on the second syllable of her next growl was aimed at the handlers, who were squatting down in front of her cage. Max and Iago. She was no idiot. They and their ignorant boss (who she'd yet to see but heard plenty of times) thought the experiments were dumb, extremely dumb, but not her. She remembered that she was intelligence…that she had been something else, once upon a time.
The question of what was fuzzy though, like the other things connected to that question. Sometimes she had dreams, fuzzy snippets of things looking almost like they were being viewed through steam and deep water, but Jezebelle never knew what they were. What they really meant. She chalked it up to being fond, sweet dreams of freedom. Escape. What she would do if she got out…
These two men had been the source of those unforgettable growls and yowls of pain from the cat women that came before her, that protected her back when she was naïve. In their eyes when they became too animal they had to get human DNA another way, and it had to be pure to be effective. She shuddered. Were they going to put "authentic" human DNA in her now, too? Did they think she had used up her humanity, that she was more animal than person now?
Some days, she felt like it, but for the most part—at least to herself—she was the human, and they, the animals. "Here kitty, kitty." the small cage, about three feet high and two feet long (stuffing her five-one frame in this was both a feat and punishment for not listening to her training…but it exercised the ability of her bones to bend so cat-like for long periods of time, which is what the boss wanted of her) was open at last. They were taking her. Swatting at them, hoping to slice their skin and rip their clothes, she fought like a savage beast, darting out of the cage and forward, head butting the one that tried to grab her by the nape of her neck, which had no extra fur like a regular cat. Her voice, once full of human reason, was nothing but pure animal.
Growling, squeaking, burbled yells and high-pitched howls echoed around the cage room. She was communicating to all the animals at loud, obnoxious frequencies that hurt their human ears. Orion continued to mewl and whine at the back of their cage, he shivered and shook, mewling helplessly. "Bitch. Stay down!" Iago demanded; he and Max were given no weapons in which to handle her, but improvised. Jezebelle was feisty. A fighter.
Jezebelle had been taught to fight, as had those before her. Apparently whoever made them all expected war. Expected to—one day—be left in a position in which they couldn't fight, so they would make everything with the ability to fight for them. She was no exception, though she was underestimated. They once expected her soft, gentile, quiet, and only for breeding; a rather calm experiment that got over the general hysteria of change and quit fighting after a year of no freedom, no rescue, and no one searching anymore.
Claws tipped in crimson she bit down on the knuckle of the man holding her, Iago, and he recoiled with a cry. Max grabbed her by her cheekbones and mandible, clamping his two hands together and slamming her face into the floor again. Shut her up and beat her down for transport. Jezebelle continued to growl deep from her throat despite her man-muzzled mouth. Weaseling out of Max's hold by some sheer feet of flexible body endowment, of motherly rage, she went at him again.
Iago was still on the floor so he was her best bet. She pounced on him like a tigress and began to bite on him, anywhere she could reach. Cheek, jaw, nose, throat. Anywhere! "Rffft!" spitting at him as he knocked her off Jezebelle spun reflexively across the stone floor and used her claws to soften the spin so she could run at either of the two men.
Bleeding heavily from his arms, face, and multiple bite wounds Jezebelle wanted to get Iago first. He was the weaker one, and in the animal kingdom the weaker one goes first. "Mew! Mew! Me-ee-ew!" her head turned sharply despite her battle instinct that screamed not to. Max had her baby by the extra fur on the nape of his little neck, lifting him out of the cage. A heart wrenching sight, to see him paddle blindly in the air, his little claws flexing and trying their best to come out as he shook harshly; for a second she stalled, unable to take her eyes off her first born.
"No! My baby! Get your dirty human hands off my baby! Reoww-rowww! Rffft!" what human speech she could fish out from the emotions was quickly lost and she returned to her cat tongue. Iago brought his knee up like a strong bull, nailing her in the chin and Jezebelle winced at the spark of pain coursing through her jaw as her teeth met with a solid clap. Max laughed, swinging the kitten lightly.
"Orion! Orion! Mreeeep. Mreeeep. Mreeeep…" 'Mreeeep' was a mother-to-kitten branch of the cat language (mostly) used to calm the kittens and let them know where the mother was. It could also be used between adult cats, or even humans to display non-aggressive intentions. The little kitten calmed, and she could turn back to battle with a slightly less riled mind. However, the time it took for her to calm her kitten Iago was already drawing upon her. No sense in wasting energy.
His large fists beat down on her shoulders, around the nape of her neck to drop her to the floor and went down with her. He sat on her back, immobilizing her with his sheer weight and structure (she wasn't built for power, but for speed and fitting into odd places like a good operative, though she had no deadly operative initiative). Jezebelle struggled to turn around, to buck him off, and her bare feet, also possessing three blanched almond toes (like the digits of her hand) scraped deep and hard against the floor in a squirming effort, leaving behind scrape marks. She bit down on his fingers again, the outer skin of his pointer finger nearest her lips but it did nothing.
Iago had been desensitized to the pain. His hands continued to squeeze around her throat, his thumb occasionally rubbing soft circles on her furry skin. It's amazing…thought Iago, she's human, but with fur. And not even obvious fur. Hiding fur. Secret fur. Like…skin with fur texture. And I can feel the hairs when I touch her; all small, pale, and soft like cat fur. So soft…he remembered why he liked these cat women. Obviously women, but with bodies craftily hidden in various shades of silky, sensual hair.
It's why he loved all of them. Loved to feel them. Pet them. They were exotic, alluring, because they truly looked like naked women with bizarre body paint or kinky animal fetishes. Not animals, sexy, costumed people.
Finally Jezebelle quit moving and Iago got off her back, looking at the plump apple-shaped bottom of the twenty-year-old human-gone-animal and noticed how the fur would—in some sports—resemble fur and not skin when disturbed from the natural position. He rolled the limp body over, looking at her face. The cat face lost and decreased age marks human got, giving her a higher rate of contained elasticity in her face, which would make her attractive for many years, and age slow to show. Her narrow face with high cheekbones…he could still see the human in it…the once green eyes (now turned yellow by experiments, by cat nature) now closed, had been human. Young.
Blushing out of reflex Iago turned to his job, digging the funnel out of the pants pocket it had been jammed lazily into. The nipples of her small breasts only showed through the fur because she'd been producing milk for the little one. Being a cat, having the petite structure of a house cat which was, according to her chart, the main DNA animal, her breasts were by no means phenomenal. Hell, in the current society a twelve-year-old would have more bosom than she, but due to it being on an animal-esk body, and on fur so pale the dark pink nubs were enchanting. In the fifteen minutes it took for Iago to secure the homemade muzzle-gag for Jezebelle Max had returned empty handed to put her unconscious body in the large black bag looking falsely of plastic to take towards the pier.
"Okay. One…two…three…lift!" Max and Iago grunted with the weight. She was only, maybe, one hundred pounds (if that, the experimentation and flexibility of her bones had given her some odd numbers as to weight and vitals due to the high amount of chemical exposure and change in her) but the way her body sagged helplessly created odd shapes against the material of the sack and made her harder to carry. After twenty minutes of shifting Max and Iago found it best to cup their hands under the center of the bag, interlace their fingers, and walk with her, Max acting as the guide.
They had to be swift, and it was a hard thing to do, as they had to be careful not to bruise the body too much, or allow her claws to rip holes the sack, and not draw attention at the same time.
Maeleyn gave a soft, painful sigh looking out across the ocean colored and shimmering with the light of the sun kissing it. She plucked another petal off, the flowers shared between the five of them. "I hope you went peacefully, wherever you went, Jezz. I miss you like crazy but I hope you went painlessly." the petal was tossed into the water, where a soft ripple was lost in the hypnotic roll of the waters. Raph tossed an untouched flower in the water, not wanting to rip it up, and watched it bob on the surface. A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away, kissing the next petal for the girl who was like her sister, who, on this day, would've been twenty, and let it fall.
She'd lost all track of time, and wanted to…to an extent. On the one hand she wanted this day to end swiftly, as to ease the pain. On the other hand she wanted it to last so she could bask and cherish those precious memories. After all, no more of them could be made. At the moment the five turtles were shielded behind various docked boats, and the area was quite; the freights didn't come in until noon.
"Ugh…c'mon, lift your side!" Leo's head snapped around with Raph's and Maeleyn froze, clutching the remaining flowers to her chest. Mikey had just let his handful go in the light gust, watching the swirl die down and land like flecks of lead in the water. The leading Hamato motioned them into the water silently, and it was suddenly a careful dash into the azure waters. Any splash they would make could sound like an animal shooting down for a fish. For turtles it was easy to look through water up at the currently empty dock, for Maeleyn…she had some trouble.
The water was icy cold, affected by the temperature, but since the events of last year they'd all been encouraged to indulge heavily in water training. Their lungs were strong, and their bodies fit for waiting in water to see what the commotion was. Blurred visages of two men met them, and a large black sack could just barely be seen. How large it was, was unknown to the turtle crew. All of a sudden, with no sound to lead up to the sack being tossed in the water, the large sack begin to sink, saturated and nearly onyx-colored with water.
Instinctively Mikey and Leo swam under it, to catch it. The eldest could feel an odd shape press into his palm and sent a worried look to his brother. Something was in there. Those men had tossed someone…or something…off the docks. Trying to rid themselves of the evidence. Just when they were starting to feel better about scoping around for any remains of the Foot lab Maeleyn had escaped from near the Statue of Liberty a year ago, this came along.
Evidence that, perhaps, their old enemies weren't done. That the DNA project wasn't done as they'd hoped. But who could've possibly survived the Foot Headquarters meltdown? Leo wondered; what if it's not even one of the old enemies? What if it's someone new? Could they be connected to the old DNA employee group if it's not them in the first place?
All of those thoughts were unsettling. Don poked him in the shoulder with his finger, pointing up and drawing the leader out of his troublesome thoughts. Those men were gone. Carefully, moving with Mikey, he broke the surface, breathing almost silently as he listened. He had to be sure they were gone. Nothing…just the sound of the waves.
Don broke the surface, along with Raphael and Maeleyn. "Mikey help me get this thing on the shore." Leo whispered, nodding to Don and Raph to check and make sure those humans were gone. Out of the water they leapt, crawling up the side of the dock. Michelangelo and Leonardo dragged the black sack to the shore, which had a slight incline from the friction of the various sized vessels docking over the years, and he pulled a katana out of its sheath, glad to have brought his weapons along with his brothers. His eyes wafted to Don and Raph who gave him a thumbs up, signaling no humans to speak of.
The two brothers and their female clan member collected curiously around the sack. "I felt something in here…" Leo whispered, angling the katana very carefully to cut a slit in the bag, a peephole. He put the sword on his back, unaware of being breathless as he stuck his large fingers into the slit and ripped the material apart, listening to the fibers pop. Not too hard to rip, not for them, but it would probably be hard for someone without constant straining; Leo had to try a little bit to get the slit to expand and split.
"Looks like supplex almost…" Don noted, watching Leo finally peel the split side back like a bandanna. A small gasp was shared between the five. A pale face surrounded a mess of soaked, curling, layered hair auburn hair. The victim.
"C'mon, help. We need to get her out of this." the features looked too soft to be male, too dainty, and the face too…abnormal to be human. There was no question, now, that the DNA projects were indeed still around. Don and Raph pulled at the slit continuing to widen and soon they had her out of the bag in full.
"Dude…" instinctively, childishly, Mikey clapped his hand over his eyes at the sight of her bare, dark nipples. Leo flushed, but found it not to be the time to worry about her lack of clothing.
"What is that?" Raph demanded, looking at what seemed to be a funnel jammed into the mouth of the unconscious victim with two belts wrapped around her face to secure it.
"Whoever made her wanted her pretty dead." Don noted, but thought was wasted. Action was needed. With surgical precision he handled Raph's sai and cut the belt binds on the funnel, pulling it out of her mouth and forcing the item from the new hole cut into the belt loop. Leo immediately went to CPR. Her pulse was weak, thready, but there was hope.
Pinching her nose shut, a tiny thing that the tips of only two fingers could secure without breaking it, he breathed into her, getting a verbal signal from Don that her chest was raising, full of his air. Using one hand, afraid to crush her because he knew not of her modified structure, Leo did the thirty counts, waiting for her to respond. In the second set she sputtered, coughing up water. Hacking, a slight chirrup and rumble to the water as it escaped. Her feline ears, to either side of her head like human ears, twitched once and she didn't even open her eyes as she fell back.
Leo checked her pulse once and Don followed up, counting for a full minute. "She's stable. We got to her early so she'll be okay. Probably a shock-induced black out. Let's get her back to the lair."
"Right. We need to get her warmed up, too." Leo had just began to hook his arms beneath her legs, long, furry, lean and slightly sculpted when Don stopped him. He motioned for Leo to lay her back down.
"She has bruising on her…vagina." he was hesitant to call out the body parts on her naked body, but she was clearly not human as she wasn't painfully, obviously bare so he felt like he was analyzing something new, foreign, and therefore didn't feel bad. "It's soft, almost, drooping as if she…"
"She what, Don?" Mikey asked curiously.
"She had a baby. She's had a baby. Recently had a baby. Can't be more than three months since the birth, the body takes a while to tone up again from the afterbirth. Look at her breasts…she's been breastfeeding, and it must've been very recent to being put in the bag, milk is still coming out…"
"And they threw her off the damn pier!" Raph spat, curling his fist hard. He was obviously angry.
"Then we will need to get her to the lair. Someone could be looking for her, to make sure they finished the job."
"Certainly," Don agreed, "but where's the baby?"
"Not in here," Mikey flapped the ripped bag with a frown.
"Come on guys, let's get her home. She needs help."
"Cover her in this for the time being, since we have nothing to speak of." messy with Raph's sai, the sai-wielding brother too mad to cut without killing or dicing beyond use, Don cut out a messy, jagged, wispy-threaded square for Leo to wrap her in. He tucked the material under her arms and around her buttocks before picking her up again. Since she was still wet the material would stick until they got home. They raced towards the lair, and Leo couldn't help but drag his eyes back and forth from the bit of tail resting on his arm to the rooftops before heading down the nearest manhole to get her taken care of.
It was his duty as a ninja, as a man, to take care of her when she was in need. In terms of Bushido he could do no greater disgrace to the practice, to himself, or his family name by not helping her. I will help you, he vowed mentally, looking down at her and brushing a wet curl from underneath the feline ear that was soft, sensitive to his fingertips. You have my word, and I honor my word.