Without Love

By: Red Turtle

INTRO: This takes place in Thailand, where the ninja turtles and Splinter were visiting briefly. I have never attempted to narrate from Raphael, so let me know how I'm doing.

Chapter 1:

I can only remember three prior occasions in my entire life where I have been paired with Donatello. Once, when we were six, Leo and Mike both had the flu, and Splinter kept us in a separate room for a couple days. All I remember was that we both liked this weird cartoon called Go-bots. When we were twelve, we went topside to get ice cream, and he got mad at me because I started tagging little three-fingered stick-turtles everywhere to fuck with the local gang (they used a five-pointed stars and were enemies of this other gang that used three points, so it was funny to me). Once, a couple years ago, we went patrolling together when there was an increased presence of the foot and we decided to not go alone. In six hours of watching the city we didn't talk at all.

And were not talking now either.

Not that I have a whole lot to say to him. We're just getting pizza anyway, nothing remarkable about that, besides being in another country. Same thing we would do in New York, in fact there probably is a little Thailand in New York, they have everything else. I know they have Thai-pizza in New York, I wonder if they actually have it here.

Through the course of our walk I spotted numerous things that I would have commented on to Mikey, knowing he would understand the humor, but if I tried that with Don he would just look at me blankly, and it wouldn't really be any fun. Worse, if I sparked conversation he might be unleashed to lecture me about the food, history, culture, language, geography, weather, population, and politics of Thailand, which I'm not particularly interested in learning in that way. Master Splinter told us to explore with our heart (and, in my case, sai), and for once I'm listening to him. I don't want a bunch of facts to spoil it.

This might be harsh but I don't know if Donatello is capable of learning any way that doesn't involve books, pictures, or graphs. He was reading some novel called Bangkok Inn on the way down here. He acquired every travel brochure that had ever been written about this place, and even started reading them in Thai script.

Me, I learn by doing. I am much more excited by the prospects of exploring the city after dark, finding ways to hide, finding places to sneak into, that's how I learn a place.

Here we are at an advantage in fully discovering the city. Our hooded attire hides our turtle-features almost perfectly, so that we can walk around the street in daylight like normal people. This means that we pass by various street performers and get to observe them much closure than we do in New York, where we come out after night fall and stick to the shadows. One group in particular catches my attention so that I even stop to listen to the whole song. It's a group of six, one female doing all the singing, two playing violins, one playing a form of drum, and two making sound effects for the song, at one point one of them barks and growls on cue. They sing in another language, probably Thai, and I have no idea what the song is about, but it's entertaining enough to hold me. Donatello stops with me, and patiently listens to them as well. For a brief second, I thought I caught a glance between him and the one playing the drums, but that didn't make any sense, so I dismissed it.

When they are done playing that song, I was ready to go, but now Donatello detains me.

"We got to get pizza for everyone", I remind him.

"They can wait. I want to hear the next song", he replies, in a very rare spurt of authority.

I sigh and resign to listening to another song. If he didn't have the pizza money I would have just kept going, but I didn't feel like starting anything here, camouflage or not. I wonder if he had heard them in his solitary travels last night. Nothing exciting happened to me, or the others as far as I know, but Donatello is known to hide things, and well, we don't ever talk about anything anyway.

Some of the people leave, casually dropping money in a nearby hat. But most everyone stays, I think they definitely have potential, as a group.

The one playing drums whistles to the others, and more than one looks in our direction, than whistles back to him. Three of them meet in a brief huddle. This goes on long enough that now I'm pretty sure Donatello not only listened to them last night but also must have talked to them, or something, but he doesn't acknowledge them now, just watches.

The boy who previously was barking and growling for the song stands forward. First he talks in another language, than in English he says; "Now we sing something for Americans."

And he and the other male singer launch into, believe it or not, a song I have heard on the radio recently in America. A rap song, something about Hey Now, but with added translation after the English. What interests me about this isn't the song itself, but the manner that they dance, because suddenly my ninja sense starts tingling.

I always wanted to say that.

Seriously, first I notice the way the two male singers are dancing, and then I study the two playing violin, where it becomes very clear, these aren't humans, or else they are very deformed. All in the group are cloaked in robes, which is not unusual in this country, but they have their hoods covering themselves even as they sing and play, the violin players wear gloves, their fingers do not move like five fingers would, and the dancers do not move their bodies like humans.

I look back at Donatello, who despite his insistence that we stay is looking pretty non-chalant.

The song comes to an end, and now the two that were playing the violins pick up the collection hat and begin encouraging donations from the audience.

When they came by us, hat out expectantly, Donatello and I each dutifully donated our spare change, about three dollars worth between us. They looked at the coins, then back at Donatello.

"Hey, our sister don't sing good today", one asked him, confirming that he must have met them yesterday. I'm guessing he has a crush on the lead singer, the way he was not looking at her, and gave them extra money, so now they remember him. Donnie is such a wuss sometimes.

"Uh, she was...all of you sang really well", he mumbled embarrassed. I rolled my eyes.

"We sing really well, in English, yeah", the other questioned.

"Yes, you did", Donatello told them.

"If we sing so well then to please give us twenty", his brother dared to suggest, holding out his hand.

Their audacity shocked me, and it must have shocked Donatello stupid, he actually started to dig in his pocket. What the fuck?! He was not going to give them our pizza money with me standing here.

"What are you, trying to strong-arm him?!" I snapped, stepping between them and brandishing one of my sais in the process, so they would know what they were fucking with. Donatello carried on him a dagger and some throwing stars, his bo didn't carry well in our disguises.

"Strong arm?", one repeated, looking at his brother.

"No, no strong arm. We aren't using our arms at all", the other told me.

"Strong fist, maybe", the other said.

One or both of them punched me so quickly, and so strong, I was on the ground before I knew what had happened. They hit me in the face, and it hurt. Oh, these pricks are going to get it!

But in the few seconds it took for me to regain my feet, weapons drawn, Donatello had handed our twenty dollars over to them. WHAT THE FUCK, brother?! I never understood his pacifist nature, but how could he stand there and give them what they wanted after they hit me like that? He's got fucking weapons, its not like he doesn't know how to kick ass when he needs too. Oh, is he going to get it when I'm done with these two.

They backed off from me as I lunged, sai almost with in reach of the nearest one's stomach. I rarely make life-threatening maneuvers like this, I don't want to go down around killing someone, especially since thus far this is just common thuggary, but I think Donatello's betrayal unleashed a new level of rage in me, if that was possible.

Then, I guess just to guarantee the asshole-of-the-year award, Donatello jumped between me and them, and pushed me away. I pushed back, thinking he was just being stupid, not wanting to see me get violent. He didn't budge, in fact he cinched my wrists so I couldn't even throw my sais. It was almost as painful as the wound on my face, which now clearly tasted of blood, either from my teeth or nose, or both. I was about to knee him, but in looking down his eyes met mine, and stopped me. They were the most determined I have ever seen. Determined doesn't even come close, they were fiery and cold at the same time. Maybe had I had opportunity to watch him matching the Shredder I would recognize this look, because that's the only way I can envision him this way.

But I'm not Shredder. I'm Raphael, his brother, and nothing in this situation should have given him cause to treat me this way.

"What are you doing?!", I hissed. I wanted to yell, but that look had taken all the voice out of me.

"Let it go", he growled.

By now, the two had rejoined the company of their family, and they were all in the process of gathering their things and leaving. They glanced in our direction but didn't seem terribly worried.

"You gave them all our money. Let me get it back."

"No."

"This isn't the time for your pacifist shit!", I snapped, a little louder.

He maneuvered me into a nearby alley with a combination of yanks and pinches. Never, never have I been under his control like this, and while I could probably get free, it would require escalating the confrontation beyond where even I was willing to go with him, especially now. Then he released one of my arms and drew his dagger.

"Does this look pacifist to you?", he replied.

His voice alone took mine away, much less the sight of him, blade drawn in my direction, eyes like he was facing Shredder... ... ...

Five minutes could have easily passed by as we stared at each other. No chance of catching up to those two fucks now, I'll have to hope I run into them later, alone, in some dark alley. Like a camel, I can store my rage up until I need it later.

"What is wrong with you?", I finally managed to ask.

He lowered the blade, but not the intensity in his eyes.

"We can get more money, Raph. Pizza is not that big a deal."

"But they hit me", I felt compelled to point out. I don't know how he could miss it, in the process of our confrontation I had left significant bloodstains on his coat. It didn't hurt so much anymore, but it was the dignity of the question.

"I know. They must not like you."

This puzzled me for a few seconds.

"Must not like me? And they like you, because you gave them all our money? I'll give them something to really not like about me!"

I almost took off, back out to the circle to see if they still lingered, but he blocked my path again.

"I know it's hard for you, Raph, but let it go. They... ... ...need it."

"They need it?! Is that what you said?! What the fuck do you think we need?! We can't go around giving every gutter punk our money because you think their sister-"

"THEY"RE NOT GUTTER PUNKS!", he roared.

I must have really hit on something here, to make Don yell like that.

For a second, I was wondering whether he had ever been a quiet little geek. I was just starting to think that I must have imagined that pacifist persona, when his fiery, cold determined persona cracked.

"And don't talk about their sister", he choked, suddenly melting into tears.

Which is a little more like the brother I know, but already I was missing the other one. I hate crying.

TBC...