A Thousand Lives: Strange Bedfellows
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle characters.
AN: This is the first in a series of alternate universe fanfictions I'm working on. It will probably go on for 3-5 chapters then I will move on to the next. If you have any ideas or like the story please feel free to drop a PM or a review my way. I always appreciate the love.
Theme: Ancient Rome
~We could life a thousand lives in a thousand different worlds,
and I would never fear, because no matter what, we would find our way back to each other.~
Drip, drip, drip.
The room where he waited was as dark and humid as always. Water dropped from the ceiling to form shallow puddles on the packed dirt floor. The smell of blood and sweat hung in the air, mixing with the ever present scent of pungent fear.
Eyeing his captors, he rattled his chains menacingly. One flinched and tightened his grip around the thick metal. It was amusing. They normally didn't allow one so young to serve as a guard.
As he realized that the guard was watching his with a mix of awe, curiosity, and a hint of fear, he rattled the chains again. The young man, barely more than a boy, paled visibly.
"Don't look him in the eye, boy. "One of the more veteran guards supplied. "He can smell fear on a man. Won't hesitate to kill ya."
The boy blanched but nodded shakily. Seeing his obvious fear the veteran chuckled.
"Ahh, don't look so worried. As long as we've got him chained up he can't do no harm. Practically tame he is."
These humans were incredible stupid, he thought as he watched from the corner of his eye. Did they not know a threat when they saw one? It would be all too easy to reach out and remove their heads from their shoulders. To stain the ground with their life blood.
Something tugged against his neck and he had to resist the urge to reach up and rub it. They had him collared, made of metal and stone blessed by the gods it did diminish his power. Still, if these fools did not realize who the more powerful creature was then they deserved death.
A toll sounded gaining the attention of the veteran guard. Carefully the older man roved the shackles binding his hands and feet. Soon only the collar around his neck was left. With his hands free it would be simple to kill both men, too simple in fact. It wasn't even worth the effort.
Walking coolly to the raised platform, he sent one last glare in the younger guard's direction. The boy jumped back, much to his satisfaction, yelping quietly.
Taking his place, he closed his eyes any waited, reveling in the small moment of peace he had been afforded. Such moments were few and far between. The platform rattled into motion and the ceiling above opened up, letting in the warm light of day.
The world around him exploded into cheers and scream. They were of such a multitude that no one could be plucked from the other. Even so, he knew what they were saying, chanting.
Beast.
They had taken everything from him, even his name. Once the name Tigerclaw had been respected, feared. Gone were those days, along with his freedom, his master, his honor. All that was left was the name they had given him, the moniker of Beast.
Compared to the darkness below, the sun shone brightly in the stadium. The stink of human invaded his nose as Tigerclaw padded around the enclosed area. Despite the noise and smell it was good to be free of that accursed cell again. The sun felt warm on his fur, and the wind though stale and slow, made his whiskers twitch in anticipation.
On the other side of the arena a large metal grate creaked open, admitting his latest opponent. Actually victim would probably be more accurate. With a sigh Beast prepared to face this new adversary. These Bestiaries were becoming tiresome, how he craved a challenge. Someone worth his skill.
A furious yell drew his attention.
So it was going to that kind of battle. Usually his fights consisted of warriors, men of skill and power. It was not often that he was relegated to the disposal of criminals or captured enemies of the Roman Empire.
Tigerclaw watched stoically as they dragged his opponent into the ring, the trashing figure cursing violently. With one final heave the guards tossed him onto the ground, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust.
Holding back a sigh Tigerclaw stalked gracefully towards his opponent. It would not be much of a battle but it was better to get such things over with quickly.
It seemed though that his opponent wasn't terribly interested in fighting. Shoving himself of the ground, he took off towards the metal gate. Furiously he pounding on it with his fists, the thuds of flesh against metal was drowned out by the crowd.
"Let me out of here." His opponent roared in fury.
Tigerclaw rolled his eyes; if such methods were successful he would have escaped this cursed place long ago. Finally a low ruble reverberated in his chest announcing his presence to his irate victim.
The figure whirled around and Tigerclaw found himself staring into a pair of wide blue eyes.
'Hmm,' he thought slowly, his eyes roving over his victim's figure. 'It appears I was mistaken.'
His opponent, not a man like he had originally believed, was instead a tiny slip of a woman. Most exotic, he decided, taking in her vivid blue eyes and red hair, clearly a captured slave. It was strange though, she was fairly attractive for a human woman. Normally such women were relegated to more…earthy pursuits.
The woman goggled at him for a moment, taking in his fur, and claws, and inhuman face. Tigerclaw waited the scream that often accompanied those who first caught sight of his appearance. None came, even the spectators sat silent with anticipation.
To his surprise, instead of screaming or running, the woman groped around for something to defend herself with. Grasping hold of a short sword, she drew it in front of her a fierce gleam in her eyes.
Again Tigerclaw did nothing, merely observing this creature.
She clearly had some training with weapon. Her stance was solid, though her grasp on the blade was awkward. It appeared that whatever weapon she favored, the sword she held was heavier then she was used to. In a man's grip the sword could be wielded single handed, but the woman's tiny hands allowed for a two handed grip.
All of sudden the woman struck out, seemingly out of patience with their standoff. Clumsy, Tigerclaw thought irritably and easily stepped out of the way. The swing threw her off balance, but the second the woman righted herself she was at him again. Again and again, he dodged with ease, drawing out the breadth of her skills. She was raw, truly raw, but he could see there was potential.
It was almost a pity that such potential would be cut short.
With a swipe of him mighty paw, Tigerclaw grabbed the sword. Wrenching it from her grip he tossed it aside. The sudden attack sent the woman stumbling backwards onto the ground. As he advanced, she backpedaled trying to put some distance between them. A wall quickly ended her paltry escape attempt.
Tigerclaw gazed down solemnly at the figure at his feet. He had killed men before, many men in fact, but all their faces had been the same. They had all held in their eyes the knowledge that he would be their death. It was a mix of surprise, fear, and the tiniest bit of hope. Some had pleaded for their lives, while others had accepted their deaths with bowed heads.
This woman was different. Her eyes held the same knowledge that he would kill her, but there was no fear, no hope, only grim acceptance. She did not beg, or bow her head. Instead she struggled to her feet. Despite the distance separating their size, she stared up into his eyes with resolute determination. With the bearing of a queen her gaze told him that if he was to kill her, it would have to be while looking her in the eyes. If she died it would be with grace and honor.
Tigerclaw's paw twitched, itching to end her life with a swipe of his claws. A thin memory held him back though, a memory of that same look. It was old, from long before he'd been cursed by the gods with this form, from before he had become a warrior, from before he had become a man. Back when he was but a boy in a distant land. He had seen the same look once, on the face of his sister as she stood in front of him with her arm spread wide, as though her tiny frame could protect him from all the evils of the world.
The battle within his mind ended quickly and Tigerclaw turned away. The crowd exploded with boos and shouts but he ignored them as he made his way back to the platform. He would likely be punished but he did not care. These humans could not truly harm him despite how they tried.
There was another creak of the metal door and a disgusting scent filled Tigerclaw's nose. A man entered the arena, dressed and gaudy armor and ready for battle. His eyes were not on Tigerclaw though; instead he focused on the now unarmed woman who was scrambling to find her fallen weapon. The scent of metal polish and lust fill the air as the gladiator strode towards his target. Such was the fate of many of the women who were placed on display in battles such as this, and while Tigerclaw had never participated himself he had heard the mournful screams, scented the nauseating mix of blood and arousal.
For the first time in a long while a wave of rage crashed over Tigerclaw's soul. He was finished with these fool humans and their disgusting display. A battle between two warriors was supposed to be one of honor, where men and women displayed their skills. This, this mockery should have shamed them but instead they treated it like entertainment. Where was the honor of pitting an unarmed woman dressed in nothing but ragged silks against an armored warrior?
Something snapped into place as Tigerclaw whirled around.
If they wished for blood, then blood they would receive.
In a barely discernible flash of movement he was on his opponent, taking him completely by surprise. The man's shout was cut short as his head was removed from the rest of his body. It rolled to a stop at the feet of the red haired woman, her look of shock mirroring that of the severed head.
Drip, drip, drip.
Tilting his head back, Tigerclaw reveled in the warmth of the sun and the blood on his claws as each drop fell to be soaked up by the dry ground. This was his true form, not a Beast, not a caged animal, he was a predator and it was time that these humans were reminded of that.
Soooo…what do ya think? This idea has been rolling around in my head for a while. Initially I had thought of it being Leatherhead but then I saw the design for Tigerclaw and my head cannon formed. I pictured a man confident in his own abilities with his own strict moral code, not the conventional moral code but one that was all his own. Mercenary and cold, but with an unshakable core of honor. I hope it works out that way in the show. Well, more to come soon if you guys want it. Big sister says goodnight~