Okie, please note. This is my first (technically second) TMNT fan fic. I
don't own these guys, and don't know every little detail about them. So if
I screw up on a small detail, please don't yell at me! That would be bad.
Also, I do own the character named 'Strike'. So use her, and I will be
severely angry. Got it? Good. On to the story!
prologue
so it begins
Strike snarled. It had been a quiet night, for once. The silence was odd, she didn't like it. Hardly a car ran down the street in which she sat over, shadowed in the darkness of the building above her. She was perched upon a large ledge of the First Bank building, stretching out her massive, leathery wings every now and then. Her claws dug deep into the concrete beneath them, holding a hard grip on it. She yawned. Her tongue lapped quietly over her enlarged fangs before she once again shut her mouth, her upper teeth overlapping her bottom lip. Golden eyes swept over the landscape, still finding nothing of much interest.
The high-pitched whir of a Japanese made motorcycle suddenly filled her dragon ears, making her throw back her head to listen better. She snorted, how she hated those Japanese bikes! They sounded like bees to her. Her amber colored eyes twitched towards her right, the bike coming into immediate view. It was coming in at a high speed, around 50 or 55 m.p.h. from Strike's guess. The red finish on the fenders and tank glinted sharply each time it fell under the light of a street lamp. Strike's eyes narrowed at it, it didn't seem right. With a massive flap of her metallic tinted black wings, which where torn or ripped in places, she swooped down to street level, shifting quickly into her human form. Still hidden by shadow, she peered beyond the corner of the building in which she hide, eyes intent upon the bike. Her lips curled in a savage snarl, she most defiantly wasn't liking this. The bike flashed by her, at which point she slipped from the shadow and into the light. Her own Buell ThunderBolt stood near her, yearning for her to follow the other. Her lip twitched in a smirk, and quickly hopped onto the bike.
Wind whipped over the front fender of the ThunderBolt, its speeds reaching almost 60 now. The other bike lay still ahead of them, seemingly not knowing of what was to come. Strike clenched the throttle and gear tightly, her speed reaching beyond joyous limits. Her skills on the bike where impeccable, that sneer still on her face. The rider of the front bike finally realized he was being followed, twisting back slightly to see behind him. His eyes narrowed slightly, irritated that someone would shadow him like that. He turned forward once more, twisting the throttle harder, hitting 70 now.
Luckily, and oddly, there was hardly a trace of other life that night, or both would probably been dead at that point. But Strike loved the idea of that, it didn't matter to her how dangerous it was, it would take a lot to kill an immortal like Strike. Now, she was just looking for the thrill of racing another rider, with no limits, and an imminent victory to proceed. She stepped up the speed. The ThunderBolt was nearly side by side with the other bike now. Strike grinned menacingly, and pressed again. Finally the bikes layed side by side. Strike gave a grinning snarl to the other rider, lipping the word 'Race!?'. A smirk flashed across his lips, as he tightened the throttle. So it began.
chapter 1
the race of a lifetime, or the end of one
Raph growled. 'What the hell does she want?? Gees, the guys'll be mad at me enough if I'm late, but they'll be really pissed if they know it was 'cause I was out racin'!' He growled again at the thought. But he couldn't help that now. Little did he know, the challenger was out for the race of a lifetime, or the end of one. She was out to shed someone's blood, no matter how she had to do it.
Strike lapped at her fangs again. 'Damn that Vamp! Being a shape shifter is bad enough, a Samurai one to boot! Great, I'm in a race for my life, and I don't even really have a reason besides I'm hungry! How do you explain that to cops? That is, if I get caught, which is highly unlikely. But, I guess this would count as a violent death..the one and only way I can die!' She shoke her head lightly, tossing away these thoughts. Rather, she bolted off after her competitor, pushing 80 m.p.h. now.
The high-pitched buzz, and deep guttural rumble of the two bikes drove home through the ears of all who were close enough to hear; they were quite deafening after awhile. The sounds mixed, somewhat harmonizing together. It was something of a lullaby in Strikes ears, she loved the sound of motors, any kind of motor. She thrived on the Night Races, held in the old streets of New York, where cops didn't care who drove there, or how fast they were going. It was a racers dream. And now, in a few weeks, they would hold the greatest underworld race, an all-out, no-holds-bar death race, where the winner would get 1 million dollars plus. Strike was going to win it. No matter what, she couldn't lose. But she couldn't concentrate on that now, there were bigger stakes at the moment.
Bikes now side by side, Strike and Raph exchanged a vicious stare. Somehow, they felt like they knew each other, in an odd, unexplainable way. Something from Strike's past.something dealing with Strike's brother...Rai. She shoke her head again, only slightly. Her lip curled, her Vampirish fangs exposed, digging gently into her light, battle scarred skin. Raph's eyes flashed at the sight of her fangs, immediately knowing something was up. He'd dealt with Vamps before, and didn't really want to deal with them again. He growled lowly before returning to the road.
Headlights flashed in front of Strike, heading straight at her. She was in the left lane, the wrong lane, and at the speed she was going, the car would be on her in seconds. Strike only grinned at it, pulling up the front end of the Buell up. A few seconds later, as anticipated, the back tire hit against the front fender of the car, flipping it up while pushing the front end back down. The front tire spun slightly until it hit against the roof of the car, the back pushing off the hood. Sliding down the back end of the little car, the Buell's weight pressed down hard on the trunk, pushing the gas tank lower to the ground. A sudden bump in the road scrapped against the rusted tank, ripping it wide open. By that time, Strike was off and racing after Raph again. But unfortunately for the driver, the gas tank exploded into a fiery mass, causing a few cars parked near to start on fire as well. Strike only looked back with a sneer. 'Serves him right for screwing with this race!' She cackled lowly at his misfortune, her ultimate prank.
Raph gulped once he heard the explosion. A glance into his left mirror told him of the car driver's untimely end. 'This kid means BUISNESS!!!!! This is a life or death thing here!' He thought with remorse. If he had only been going the speed limit in the first place..
Strike compulsively lapped at her fangs, already able to taste the tangy, coppery taste of blood filling her mouth, dripping down the back of her throat. 'The best taste in the world.next to buffalo meat really.' She grinned lightly, tugging on the throttle before she started daydreaming about it. But it was hard not to. Little did she know, the blood she desired would be a lot harder to get than she thought, and not exactly the kind she believed it to be.
'Time to get this crap over with!! Gotta start dodgin' now!' Raph gritted his teeth, leaning a little farther forward, and turned sharply to the left, into the Central Park area. He quickly checked his mirror to make sure he had lost her, but assumed too much, to quickly. After a moment, he presumed her to be gone. Strike was not so easily lost. She easily darted after him, not fearing what might lie ahead. By then, Raph had already slowed down. Before she knew it, she was on a collision course for the other bike. In a spurt of agility, she whipped around him, just inches away from him. A spurt of anger welded up in both Strike and Raphael. Strike for having thought better of this one; Raph for thinking she would leave well enough alone. Both stopped their bikes, Strike turning sharply around to face him. Her lip twitched in a sinister grin. In one easy flowing movement, she whipped out her lethal Katana blade, the steel glinting brightly in the light of the street lamp above. She held it in a battle position, the tip of it still stained with another's blood, whose it was, no one knew. Raph's eyes became wide for a split second, before they narrowed again, viscously. He quickly grabbed one of his Sais from his belt, also holding it in battling position.
Strike snorted lightly at his meek excuse of a weapon. A moment later she fell into a fit of laughter, nearly dropping her sword in the process. Raph became overly perplexed by this, raising a brow.
"And what if I may ask is so funny to you?" His voice held a gruff and agitated grumble in it.
Strike took a minute to regain herself. "The fact that you're a ninja! And expecting to beat a samurai at her two best things! Racing, and the welding of a sword!" She cackled quietly. Raph gritted his teeth again, surprised she had somehow found out he was a ninja, and the fact she was a samurai!
"Why you think I'm a ninja?? And I'm not expecting to beat you, 'cause I didn't even know we where racing!!" He hissed back, lowering his guard somewhat.
Strike snorted again. "Hmm.lemme guess. The fact that you carry a sai with you, might just give you away. I mean come on! There's no way a real New Yorker would carry that kinda steel 'round with 'um! Plus, you couldn't be anything else, I'm the last samurai left in existence out of Japan, and no other martial art masters would carry a sai with them. Very obvious." She smirked once again. "It's kinda hard not to realize we were racing. Why else would I drive you to high speeds like that? Think 'bout it kid. Although." Her voice started to trail off a bit as she considered the prospects. The million dollar Night Race was a team race, you'd need to race along side another person, something Strike had accidentally ignored. Perhaps this other would be willing to ride along side. She couldn't kill him now, unless he declined.
"Although what!?" Raph snapped, starting to get real fed up with her.
Strike looked back over at him, her eyes somewhat narrowed in attempt to make out his features a bit better. It was to no avail, he was beyond the reach of the street light, while she sat directly under it. 'Very un- samurai of me! But very ninjaish all the same.' She grinned lightly. "The up-coming million dollar race is a few weeks away, and I'm in need of a team runner. One with some actual skill that is. Not only with a bike, but one that can also take care of itself at the same time. This isn't an easy race, it's kinda like a giant death match really.Nearly a hundred riders all out for the same thing, and ready to kill to get it. But you, you'd be just the right person to be at my side. I think it's kinda ironic for a samurai to be asking the aid of a ninja, but it's not like I have a lotta people, or choices, lined up at this point. What do you say to that..uh.I didn't quite get your name."
Raph smirked. 'Like I'd really give my name to some chick who tried to fridgin' kill me! Might as well though..' "My name is Raphael, but most people just call me Raph. I'm not exactly who, or what, you think I am. See, I'm really a.." Strike cut him short.
"I really don't care what you are. I've been around longer than you would think, and met more crazies and wack jobs than you can imagine! All that I do care about is if you accept or not. What say you now, Raphael?"
Raph growled quietly. He hated being cut off or interrupted. But the fact that someone could care less about what another looked like or even was, was somewhat startling to him. In a spur of wanting to know more about this, 'race' as she called it, he agreeingly said, "Yeah, I'll race whichya." Little did he know what a mess he had gotten himself into.
Strike's eyes immediately brightened up, a sinister smile flashing across her face. "Excellent! We'll need to start training the course then. Tomorrow night. 8 o'clock. The old New York highway cross roads. Met me at the first stop sign on O'Malley Road, I'll be waiting. I'll show you the course and we can start learning it together, alright?" Raph nodded in understanding. "Good." Strike grinned as she put her sword away once more, and turned to leave. Before she could, Raph called out to her.
"Wait! I didn't get your name!"
"My name? I am named Mamoru Orinamii, but you may call me Strike."
prologue
so it begins
Strike snarled. It had been a quiet night, for once. The silence was odd, she didn't like it. Hardly a car ran down the street in which she sat over, shadowed in the darkness of the building above her. She was perched upon a large ledge of the First Bank building, stretching out her massive, leathery wings every now and then. Her claws dug deep into the concrete beneath them, holding a hard grip on it. She yawned. Her tongue lapped quietly over her enlarged fangs before she once again shut her mouth, her upper teeth overlapping her bottom lip. Golden eyes swept over the landscape, still finding nothing of much interest.
The high-pitched whir of a Japanese made motorcycle suddenly filled her dragon ears, making her throw back her head to listen better. She snorted, how she hated those Japanese bikes! They sounded like bees to her. Her amber colored eyes twitched towards her right, the bike coming into immediate view. It was coming in at a high speed, around 50 or 55 m.p.h. from Strike's guess. The red finish on the fenders and tank glinted sharply each time it fell under the light of a street lamp. Strike's eyes narrowed at it, it didn't seem right. With a massive flap of her metallic tinted black wings, which where torn or ripped in places, she swooped down to street level, shifting quickly into her human form. Still hidden by shadow, she peered beyond the corner of the building in which she hide, eyes intent upon the bike. Her lips curled in a savage snarl, she most defiantly wasn't liking this. The bike flashed by her, at which point she slipped from the shadow and into the light. Her own Buell ThunderBolt stood near her, yearning for her to follow the other. Her lip twitched in a smirk, and quickly hopped onto the bike.
Wind whipped over the front fender of the ThunderBolt, its speeds reaching almost 60 now. The other bike lay still ahead of them, seemingly not knowing of what was to come. Strike clenched the throttle and gear tightly, her speed reaching beyond joyous limits. Her skills on the bike where impeccable, that sneer still on her face. The rider of the front bike finally realized he was being followed, twisting back slightly to see behind him. His eyes narrowed slightly, irritated that someone would shadow him like that. He turned forward once more, twisting the throttle harder, hitting 70 now.
Luckily, and oddly, there was hardly a trace of other life that night, or both would probably been dead at that point. But Strike loved the idea of that, it didn't matter to her how dangerous it was, it would take a lot to kill an immortal like Strike. Now, she was just looking for the thrill of racing another rider, with no limits, and an imminent victory to proceed. She stepped up the speed. The ThunderBolt was nearly side by side with the other bike now. Strike grinned menacingly, and pressed again. Finally the bikes layed side by side. Strike gave a grinning snarl to the other rider, lipping the word 'Race!?'. A smirk flashed across his lips, as he tightened the throttle. So it began.
chapter 1
the race of a lifetime, or the end of one
Raph growled. 'What the hell does she want?? Gees, the guys'll be mad at me enough if I'm late, but they'll be really pissed if they know it was 'cause I was out racin'!' He growled again at the thought. But he couldn't help that now. Little did he know, the challenger was out for the race of a lifetime, or the end of one. She was out to shed someone's blood, no matter how she had to do it.
Strike lapped at her fangs again. 'Damn that Vamp! Being a shape shifter is bad enough, a Samurai one to boot! Great, I'm in a race for my life, and I don't even really have a reason besides I'm hungry! How do you explain that to cops? That is, if I get caught, which is highly unlikely. But, I guess this would count as a violent death..the one and only way I can die!' She shoke her head lightly, tossing away these thoughts. Rather, she bolted off after her competitor, pushing 80 m.p.h. now.
The high-pitched buzz, and deep guttural rumble of the two bikes drove home through the ears of all who were close enough to hear; they were quite deafening after awhile. The sounds mixed, somewhat harmonizing together. It was something of a lullaby in Strikes ears, she loved the sound of motors, any kind of motor. She thrived on the Night Races, held in the old streets of New York, where cops didn't care who drove there, or how fast they were going. It was a racers dream. And now, in a few weeks, they would hold the greatest underworld race, an all-out, no-holds-bar death race, where the winner would get 1 million dollars plus. Strike was going to win it. No matter what, she couldn't lose. But she couldn't concentrate on that now, there were bigger stakes at the moment.
Bikes now side by side, Strike and Raph exchanged a vicious stare. Somehow, they felt like they knew each other, in an odd, unexplainable way. Something from Strike's past.something dealing with Strike's brother...Rai. She shoke her head again, only slightly. Her lip curled, her Vampirish fangs exposed, digging gently into her light, battle scarred skin. Raph's eyes flashed at the sight of her fangs, immediately knowing something was up. He'd dealt with Vamps before, and didn't really want to deal with them again. He growled lowly before returning to the road.
Headlights flashed in front of Strike, heading straight at her. She was in the left lane, the wrong lane, and at the speed she was going, the car would be on her in seconds. Strike only grinned at it, pulling up the front end of the Buell up. A few seconds later, as anticipated, the back tire hit against the front fender of the car, flipping it up while pushing the front end back down. The front tire spun slightly until it hit against the roof of the car, the back pushing off the hood. Sliding down the back end of the little car, the Buell's weight pressed down hard on the trunk, pushing the gas tank lower to the ground. A sudden bump in the road scrapped against the rusted tank, ripping it wide open. By that time, Strike was off and racing after Raph again. But unfortunately for the driver, the gas tank exploded into a fiery mass, causing a few cars parked near to start on fire as well. Strike only looked back with a sneer. 'Serves him right for screwing with this race!' She cackled lowly at his misfortune, her ultimate prank.
Raph gulped once he heard the explosion. A glance into his left mirror told him of the car driver's untimely end. 'This kid means BUISNESS!!!!! This is a life or death thing here!' He thought with remorse. If he had only been going the speed limit in the first place..
Strike compulsively lapped at her fangs, already able to taste the tangy, coppery taste of blood filling her mouth, dripping down the back of her throat. 'The best taste in the world.next to buffalo meat really.' She grinned lightly, tugging on the throttle before she started daydreaming about it. But it was hard not to. Little did she know, the blood she desired would be a lot harder to get than she thought, and not exactly the kind she believed it to be.
'Time to get this crap over with!! Gotta start dodgin' now!' Raph gritted his teeth, leaning a little farther forward, and turned sharply to the left, into the Central Park area. He quickly checked his mirror to make sure he had lost her, but assumed too much, to quickly. After a moment, he presumed her to be gone. Strike was not so easily lost. She easily darted after him, not fearing what might lie ahead. By then, Raph had already slowed down. Before she knew it, she was on a collision course for the other bike. In a spurt of agility, she whipped around him, just inches away from him. A spurt of anger welded up in both Strike and Raphael. Strike for having thought better of this one; Raph for thinking she would leave well enough alone. Both stopped their bikes, Strike turning sharply around to face him. Her lip twitched in a sinister grin. In one easy flowing movement, she whipped out her lethal Katana blade, the steel glinting brightly in the light of the street lamp above. She held it in a battle position, the tip of it still stained with another's blood, whose it was, no one knew. Raph's eyes became wide for a split second, before they narrowed again, viscously. He quickly grabbed one of his Sais from his belt, also holding it in battling position.
Strike snorted lightly at his meek excuse of a weapon. A moment later she fell into a fit of laughter, nearly dropping her sword in the process. Raph became overly perplexed by this, raising a brow.
"And what if I may ask is so funny to you?" His voice held a gruff and agitated grumble in it.
Strike took a minute to regain herself. "The fact that you're a ninja! And expecting to beat a samurai at her two best things! Racing, and the welding of a sword!" She cackled quietly. Raph gritted his teeth again, surprised she had somehow found out he was a ninja, and the fact she was a samurai!
"Why you think I'm a ninja?? And I'm not expecting to beat you, 'cause I didn't even know we where racing!!" He hissed back, lowering his guard somewhat.
Strike snorted again. "Hmm.lemme guess. The fact that you carry a sai with you, might just give you away. I mean come on! There's no way a real New Yorker would carry that kinda steel 'round with 'um! Plus, you couldn't be anything else, I'm the last samurai left in existence out of Japan, and no other martial art masters would carry a sai with them. Very obvious." She smirked once again. "It's kinda hard not to realize we were racing. Why else would I drive you to high speeds like that? Think 'bout it kid. Although." Her voice started to trail off a bit as she considered the prospects. The million dollar Night Race was a team race, you'd need to race along side another person, something Strike had accidentally ignored. Perhaps this other would be willing to ride along side. She couldn't kill him now, unless he declined.
"Although what!?" Raph snapped, starting to get real fed up with her.
Strike looked back over at him, her eyes somewhat narrowed in attempt to make out his features a bit better. It was to no avail, he was beyond the reach of the street light, while she sat directly under it. 'Very un- samurai of me! But very ninjaish all the same.' She grinned lightly. "The up-coming million dollar race is a few weeks away, and I'm in need of a team runner. One with some actual skill that is. Not only with a bike, but one that can also take care of itself at the same time. This isn't an easy race, it's kinda like a giant death match really.Nearly a hundred riders all out for the same thing, and ready to kill to get it. But you, you'd be just the right person to be at my side. I think it's kinda ironic for a samurai to be asking the aid of a ninja, but it's not like I have a lotta people, or choices, lined up at this point. What do you say to that..uh.I didn't quite get your name."
Raph smirked. 'Like I'd really give my name to some chick who tried to fridgin' kill me! Might as well though..' "My name is Raphael, but most people just call me Raph. I'm not exactly who, or what, you think I am. See, I'm really a.." Strike cut him short.
"I really don't care what you are. I've been around longer than you would think, and met more crazies and wack jobs than you can imagine! All that I do care about is if you accept or not. What say you now, Raphael?"
Raph growled quietly. He hated being cut off or interrupted. But the fact that someone could care less about what another looked like or even was, was somewhat startling to him. In a spur of wanting to know more about this, 'race' as she called it, he agreeingly said, "Yeah, I'll race whichya." Little did he know what a mess he had gotten himself into.
Strike's eyes immediately brightened up, a sinister smile flashing across her face. "Excellent! We'll need to start training the course then. Tomorrow night. 8 o'clock. The old New York highway cross roads. Met me at the first stop sign on O'Malley Road, I'll be waiting. I'll show you the course and we can start learning it together, alright?" Raph nodded in understanding. "Good." Strike grinned as she put her sword away once more, and turned to leave. Before she could, Raph called out to her.
"Wait! I didn't get your name!"
"My name? I am named Mamoru Orinamii, but you may call me Strike."