Casey Jones was panicking.
If Raph had been there, he probably would've laughed; but at the moment, that was the farthest thing from his mind.
His heart was squeezed tightly, hands slick with sweat as they spun the steering wheel, breath coming out in quick gasps.
"Come on. Come on. No!"
He let out a breathless shout as he yanked the steering wheel hard to the left, forcing the party wagon to skid sideways, and nearly topple under it's own weight, all in an effort to avoid kraang goop.
This was the third place he'd checked for his father and little sister. First his dad's workplace, then his sister's school.
Both places where abandoned war zones, with kraangatized humans wandering about.
His heart had nearly stopped in his chest, but he wasn't about to give up hope just yet.
There was still the apartment; and he had just arrived.
The street was littered with former humans. He let out another frustrated shout, his head hanging, hands going limp against the steering wheel.
"No! No! No! No!"
He shouted, raising a fist, only to slam it on the dashboard.
"No."
He whispered once more, head resting on the top of the steering wheel as tears dripped down his cheeks. Now Casey Arnold Jones wasn't one to cry; but after everything he'd been through, all he'd faced, the fear that perhaps he'd never see his father's warm smile, or sister's dimpled grin again, was nearly too much to bear.
A sharp thump against the metal plating of the vehicle brought him out of his misery.
A Kraangazoid, as he was dubbing them, had thrown itself against the window; and he couldn't help the yelp of surprise as he listed sideways into the other side of vehicle.
Another one threw itself against the other window too.
In fact.
Probably ten to fifteen kraang-humans we're pounding against the vehicle, shaking and scratching, thumping and rattling.
Casey slid back into the driver's seat, and was about to leave, when by chance, his eyes glanced up to the fifth story window where his family was now living.
A curtain rustled, and a curious blond head popped into the window, blue eyes wide in fear. AnotheAnother figure, a blackhaired man gripped her by the shoulders and drew her back.
Casey's eyes widened. They were alive!
He didn't hesitate to grip his baseball bat and slide it into the holster on his back. His fingers snagged the hockey mask, and he slipped it over his bruised face.
Slipping over the backseat, he checked on Leo. The turtle wasn't doing so well, and Casey felt genuine worry for the injured ninja.
Despite the fact that he spent so much time with Raph, he had been careful to become friends with everyone...minus Donnie.
And though he tested it from time to time just because he could, he still respected Leo's authority.
He let his hand rest on Leo's plastron and sighed.
"Hang in there, Leo. We gotta grab my family, and then we're all gettin' outta here."
Turning back to the door, Casey cracked his knuckles and shook the tension out of his shoulders, finally removing his hockey stick.
He needed a plan of attack, and immedietly thought of the skylight. Both doors would be a disastrous option.
He had little regard for the glass as he broke it, and shimmied out past the broken glass, finally standing on top. The kraang mutants all hissed and clawed at him.
With a deep breath, he shouted,
"Goongala!" leaping off the roof of the vehicle.
Once upon a time these things might have been human, but they weren't anymore.
This is why Casey had no problem knocking the mutagen laced snot out every last one of them.
Sooner rather than later, they all laid in a heap around the van.
He was pure fury, eyes barely slits behind the mask, fingers clenched so tightly, that the leather cracked and his knuckles we're white as the clutched the hockey stick.
A quick grip of the door handle indicated the door was barred and locked, but that wasn't stopping Casey Jones. Oh not in a million years.
One swift kick, and it slammed open, revealing an abandoned dark, musky hallway. He remembered a time when he lived on the bottom floor of this grungy old place, but due to an infestation problem, they had been moved to a higher floor.
The elevator was out of commission, had been for a while, and that meant the stairs.
He steadies his grip on his signature hockey stick, and walked up the stairs in a defensive stance.
The place was practically abandoned, likely done so during the first wave of the invasion.
"Is anyone here?" He called at the top of his lungs, voice cracking.
He finally made it to the top floor, and behind him, a shadow moved.
Author's Note.
Hi guys, so part 1 of this story is completely written. I just have to post it. I hope you all enjoyed and please leave some feedback on how my writing can improve! :)