"Well, would ya look at that?"

Edgar Neilson was decidedly not having a good day. The voice that came from behind him just then from the shadows of the alley confirmed that it was going to be even less of a good day than he'd previously thought. Then again if he hadn't been trying to jimmy open a neighbor's window to purloin some quick cash, that could've been avoided.

He froze, then fumbled at his belt for the gun. This Nightwatcher creep had gone to town on a lot of underground organizations. One of his dealers had passed the word that he wasn't just some renegade cop out for fun. He was something else. Something that apparently wasn't human. Edgar could believe the weird shit a lot better than others. He was a native.

And currently he owed his dealers too much to afford bail. But before his hand could close around metal, there was a flash of white and an explosion of pain behind his eyes. Edgar fell to his knees. Everything he'd eaten since noon attempted to leave the way it went in.

When his eyes refocused he was looking at a hockey stick of all fucking things. His eyes followed the handle of it upwards. Some crazy guy in a mask was holding it, looking rather smug.

"Now I don't suppose you're gonna tell me you got locked out?" he asked.

"Nuh," Edgar managed. He at least didn't drool on himself.

"Wow. An honest crook, eh? Hey, Raph! 'Bout time."

"Yo, Casey." Another figure joined the man. Not that Edgar could make it out, but the approach had been noiseless. Unsettling. "What've we got?"

"We?"

There was a sigh. "So I'm a little late. Sue me."

"That's not all I'll do. If you're lucky." 'Casey' sounded like he was grinning. Suggestively.

Oh god. Edgar closed his eyes. He didn't need to know.

"Anyway. Guy was trying to borrow a bit of cash apparently. Least he had the brains to admit it."

"Before or after you tried to smash them out?"

Edgar paid less attention to the banter and tried to focus on the one called 'Raph'. Or Ralph. Whatever it was. There was light enough to see 'Casey', but the other was in shadow. Impossible to make out. Edgar couldn't tell if either of them were keeping track of his hands. He moved his fingers experimentally. Nothing. Not a pause in conversation.

He really needed to stay out of jail. And if New York suddenly missed one hockey-loving fairy and his friend to keep him out, it didn't sound like his problem.

Edgar drew fast. The shadowed one turned at the light sound but too late to do anything as Edgar opened fire twice. One bullet went wildly in the stranger's direction. The other was a direct hit. He heard the body of the hockey-mask wearer hit the alley, heard the strangled cry of his companion, but he was running like hell to the mouth of the alley before he could hear more. In half a minute he was outside Central Park, jogging along the wall and sticking to the shadows under a canopy of lilac.

Things were looking up, Edgar thought. He was staying out of jail for sure - he'd be careful when he hit some other place tonight and have enough to pay off Sam. Maybe enough to get a couple ounces from Tucker - the guy was a little more lenient about late pay.

Edgar's thoughts of the future were brought up short as a hand grabbed his collar. He was half-strangled in his shirt as he was pulled over the wall. Gasping for breath, Edgar jerked his head up to face yet another mask. Bizzare it was; an inhuman face glaring at him from behind a scrap of red fabric.

No. Glaring was perhaps an understatement. Edgar's feet didn't even touch the ground as he saw the fist draw back. He shut his eyes, whimpering.

Jail hadn't been such a bad option after all.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Casey! Fuck - Casey, god-dammit, open your eyes! Fucking open your eyes, you hear me?!"

There were fingers gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave bruises on his collarbone. Raphael. Casey felt himself shaken, and his head bounced off the cement a couple times in Raphael's hysteria.

He'd been shot. Casey knew that. Oddly there was no blood. Why wasn't there blood? His eyes cracked open and narrowed, almost crossing in concentration as the answer came to him slowly.

"Oh . . . yeah," he muttered faintly. "Heh."

Raphael had stopped shaking him and now stared. "C-Casey?"

"Hmm?" Casey grinned up at him, looking more drunk than dead.

Raph let him drop onto his back, uncertain and afraid. As per usual, he masked fear with anger. "He - but he shot you!"

"Yeah . . . 'bout that. 'Member I said . . . uh, said I had somethin' to show you? April gave me. Lookit." Casey fumbled at the end of his shirt, trying to lift it. He seemed too disoriented to pull it past the hole in his shirt where the bullet had entered. He struggled with it, frowning as pain lanced through his chest with the movement. "Didn't think it'd hurt so damn much."

Raphael seized the fabric and pushed it up, taking control again. Casey saw him blink once. Then he yelped as Raph whalloped the side of his head. "Nice way of telling me you had a vest on, asshole! Think you could've mentioned that a little earlier?!"

"OW! The hell was that for?! 'M in pain here! An' I woulda mentioned it 'cept you were late! Remember? So - So there!"

Casey stuck out his tongue, unaware of how silly that gesture looked while lying flat on his back. Raphael pulled him up against him, supporting the man. Casey thought he could feel him shaking but didn't mention it.

"You get the guy?"

"Yeah, I got him."

". . . is he alive?"

Raphael grit his teeth, but gave a sharp nod. Casey let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"I ain't gonna kill for you. I promised. Don't worry."

"Yeah, I won't," Casey muttered. And he wanted to believe Raphael. He just wasn't that stupid.

Raph was good with keeping to the shadows. As good as he was at being silent. Casey could scarce hear him breathing as he moved. He knew they were heading back to his apartment. "Hey. Uh. You can probably put me down."

"Shut up, Jones."

Casey did.