AN: Welcome ladies and gents while I iron out another tale involving
everybody's favorite terrapins. As usual, it'll be slow but I'll get there
eventually! I don't own the turtles, their friends, enemies, relatives or
pets. They belong to Mirage, don't sue me. On with the show!
New York. They call it the city that never sleeps. Amanda shivered and increased her pace a little. I It certainly wasn't living up to its reputation tonight/I she thought as she glanced around the deserted streets. The echo of her high heels on the cracked pavement only heightened the effect.
Autumn had arrived with a vengeance, and the October wind howled between the buildings, picking up street trash and whirling it round and round in dizzying spirals. She tugged down the hem of her skirt in a futile attempt to cover a few more inches of skin.
Amanda knew it was silly to be wearing the tight little leather mini in this weather, but she just couldn't bring herself to wear jeans when Tony had such a thing for long legs. IOf course,/I she thought caustically II actually have to find Tony for this to be worth it./I Jillian had sworn that she'd seen him, and more than once, at a little hole- in-the-wall club down here, and that it would be the perfect place to get noticed by him.
So here she was, wandering deserted streets at close to midnight, trying to find a nightclub that should have been three streets over and wasn't, in less clothes than she was comfortable with. A chill wormed its way down her spine. Almost deserted.
Clearly she could hear the sound of bootheels behind her. She almost took them to be her own footsteps echoing back to her, except whoever it was had a slower pace than she did. Amanda moved a little faster, and turned the first corner she came to. Maybe it was a coincidence. Someone out for a late night stroll. The footsteps followed her around the corner, no closer than before, but no farther away either. Crap.
Amanda glanced over her shoulder, attempting to make it look casual, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. She cursed her timing. The lighting was wrong. He had just passed out of the pool of light cast by a streetlamp, leaving her only with basic impressions. Tall and slim, he walked with his hands in his pockets, a slow, deliberate stride. The wind gusted past her, bringing other sounds with it. The creak of old leather, the jingle of the jacket's buckles. White teeth and red eyes flashed in the darkness. Waitaminute. IRed/I eyes?
Incredulously she turned back and looked again. He stopped under the next streetlamp, almost as if he were posing for her inspection. Black hair, cut and styled in a preppy little short that was at odds with his wardrobe of leather and denim. Again a flash of white teeth as he smiled, but no red glow from his eyes. He licked his lips, and started forward again.
IShit! So he isn't a ghost, but he's still after me! Get a grip girl!/I Amanda spun and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She bolted. It was hard to run in high heels, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins was up to the challenge. Streets and alleys flashed by, fleeting images of parked cars and dark storefronts. She looked wildly for someone, anyone other than the person following her, but there wasn't a single soul around. A stitch grew in her side as she ran, robbing her of breath, and forcing her to curl around it trying to ease the pain. Finally she stopped, breath catching in half formed sobs, unable to run any farther. Limping, she ducked behind a dumpster in an alley, hiding herself from the street.
Amanda slumped, the cool metal of the dumpster against her back and tried to get her breathing under control. IScrew Tony./I She thought. IThis has been a hell of a night, and I just want to go home./I She stilled and listened, forcing her breathing to slow. Nothing. All she could hear was the distant wail of a siren. No bootheels on pavement, no creaking of old leather. The tension ran out of her like water. Safe.
She looped her purse over her shoulder again, and pushed away from the shadows, determined to find a payphone and get a taxi out of here. Already she was going over her adventure in her head, planning on telling the girls in the office about her brush with danger. Amanda rounded the corner, and walked directly into someone's chest.
"Oh! I'm." her voice trailed off with a breathy squeak as strong hands crushed her arms. She felt the blood drain from her face as she met his eyes.
Like a cats eyes, they reflected back all available light, except instead of the familiar feline green, they flashed crimson. "Well hello beautiful." His voice was husky, nearly a whisper. "What's a body like yours doing in a place like this?"
"Please, please don't hurt me." Amanda could feel the tears burn down her cheeks as her heart hammered against her ribcage.
"Hurt you? Don't be silly. We're just going to be very, Ivery/I close friends." His grip tightened on her arms, and he gently brought his face down to hers.
Amanda was drowning. Black ice poured from his mouth into hers, seeping into her, invading every pore, every cell. She struggled to escape, desperately attempting to wrench herself away from the viscous feel of what was crawling into her. IOh God, please, this can't be happening. Monsters don't exist, they don't, they don't, they don't../I with a despairing cry, she fled shrieking into the void, abandoning her claim on flesh as she sought refuge.
Her body reached up and placed both hands on his face, holding her attacker close to prolong the kiss. He began to shake, then spasm, and finally fell limp at her feet, eyes open and staring, a stream of spittle trailing down his chin.
Amanda smiled, and knelt beside him. She pulled his arms from the jacket and shrugged it on. When she spoke, her voice had taken on a husky tone and her eyes reflected scarlet.
"Gentlemen, the bitch is back."
Accompanied by the creak of old leather and the sharp stattaco of high heels on pavement, Amanda disappeared into the streets of the city that never sleeps.
New York. They call it the city that never sleeps. Amanda shivered and increased her pace a little. I It certainly wasn't living up to its reputation tonight/I she thought as she glanced around the deserted streets. The echo of her high heels on the cracked pavement only heightened the effect.
Autumn had arrived with a vengeance, and the October wind howled between the buildings, picking up street trash and whirling it round and round in dizzying spirals. She tugged down the hem of her skirt in a futile attempt to cover a few more inches of skin.
Amanda knew it was silly to be wearing the tight little leather mini in this weather, but she just couldn't bring herself to wear jeans when Tony had such a thing for long legs. IOf course,/I she thought caustically II actually have to find Tony for this to be worth it./I Jillian had sworn that she'd seen him, and more than once, at a little hole- in-the-wall club down here, and that it would be the perfect place to get noticed by him.
So here she was, wandering deserted streets at close to midnight, trying to find a nightclub that should have been three streets over and wasn't, in less clothes than she was comfortable with. A chill wormed its way down her spine. Almost deserted.
Clearly she could hear the sound of bootheels behind her. She almost took them to be her own footsteps echoing back to her, except whoever it was had a slower pace than she did. Amanda moved a little faster, and turned the first corner she came to. Maybe it was a coincidence. Someone out for a late night stroll. The footsteps followed her around the corner, no closer than before, but no farther away either. Crap.
Amanda glanced over her shoulder, attempting to make it look casual, hoping to catch a glimpse of her pursuer. She cursed her timing. The lighting was wrong. He had just passed out of the pool of light cast by a streetlamp, leaving her only with basic impressions. Tall and slim, he walked with his hands in his pockets, a slow, deliberate stride. The wind gusted past her, bringing other sounds with it. The creak of old leather, the jingle of the jacket's buckles. White teeth and red eyes flashed in the darkness. Waitaminute. IRed/I eyes?
Incredulously she turned back and looked again. He stopped under the next streetlamp, almost as if he were posing for her inspection. Black hair, cut and styled in a preppy little short that was at odds with his wardrobe of leather and denim. Again a flash of white teeth as he smiled, but no red glow from his eyes. He licked his lips, and started forward again.
IShit! So he isn't a ghost, but he's still after me! Get a grip girl!/I Amanda spun and decided that discretion was the better part of valor. She bolted. It was hard to run in high heels, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins was up to the challenge. Streets and alleys flashed by, fleeting images of parked cars and dark storefronts. She looked wildly for someone, anyone other than the person following her, but there wasn't a single soul around. A stitch grew in her side as she ran, robbing her of breath, and forcing her to curl around it trying to ease the pain. Finally she stopped, breath catching in half formed sobs, unable to run any farther. Limping, she ducked behind a dumpster in an alley, hiding herself from the street.
Amanda slumped, the cool metal of the dumpster against her back and tried to get her breathing under control. IScrew Tony./I She thought. IThis has been a hell of a night, and I just want to go home./I She stilled and listened, forcing her breathing to slow. Nothing. All she could hear was the distant wail of a siren. No bootheels on pavement, no creaking of old leather. The tension ran out of her like water. Safe.
She looped her purse over her shoulder again, and pushed away from the shadows, determined to find a payphone and get a taxi out of here. Already she was going over her adventure in her head, planning on telling the girls in the office about her brush with danger. Amanda rounded the corner, and walked directly into someone's chest.
"Oh! I'm." her voice trailed off with a breathy squeak as strong hands crushed her arms. She felt the blood drain from her face as she met his eyes.
Like a cats eyes, they reflected back all available light, except instead of the familiar feline green, they flashed crimson. "Well hello beautiful." His voice was husky, nearly a whisper. "What's a body like yours doing in a place like this?"
"Please, please don't hurt me." Amanda could feel the tears burn down her cheeks as her heart hammered against her ribcage.
"Hurt you? Don't be silly. We're just going to be very, Ivery/I close friends." His grip tightened on her arms, and he gently brought his face down to hers.
Amanda was drowning. Black ice poured from his mouth into hers, seeping into her, invading every pore, every cell. She struggled to escape, desperately attempting to wrench herself away from the viscous feel of what was crawling into her. IOh God, please, this can't be happening. Monsters don't exist, they don't, they don't, they don't../I with a despairing cry, she fled shrieking into the void, abandoning her claim on flesh as she sought refuge.
Her body reached up and placed both hands on his face, holding her attacker close to prolong the kiss. He began to shake, then spasm, and finally fell limp at her feet, eyes open and staring, a stream of spittle trailing down his chin.
Amanda smiled, and knelt beside him. She pulled his arms from the jacket and shrugged it on. When she spoke, her voice had taken on a husky tone and her eyes reflected scarlet.
"Gentlemen, the bitch is back."
Accompanied by the creak of old leather and the sharp stattaco of high heels on pavement, Amanda disappeared into the streets of the city that never sleeps.