Edited May 26, 2016
Chpt. 2 Hello
The clock I read through someone's window said it was 5 o'clock a.m. In May, the Sun comes up around 5:40 in New York City, giving me 40 minutes. Just enough time to stop a robbery.
The wall explodes, making me crouch to avoid the debris. I cover my head as the rocks come down, feeling a few pebbles land on me. When the sounds of rock against rock stop, I uncover myself to see who is coming out of the dust.
The first two men that came out were lean, crouched, and holding rather nasty looking guns. They looked around quickly before walking forwards again, and turning to wait for the others. The next two to come out were burly, each holding a safe under their arms. They too, looked around before waiting for the next person to come out.
The next guy that came out was obviously their leader. He had a cocky air to him that yelled "I'm bad and you know it". I took notice there was no purple dragon on any of them, telling me that they weren't from that gang the Purple Dragons. I've had enough of them from one month. Really, how many people signed up for a gang, it was like a never ending nightmare with them.
I move to the right, getting closer to the two up front. I need to get rid of the guns before I go for the kill, or else I might end up dead before I kill one of them. The echoing pain on the left side of my ribs reminds me of the last time I got shot 2 years ago. The homeless guy shocked me by pulling a gun on me. I remember his scream as... I turned his gun on him. I barely made it to the hospital before my lung collapsed.
"Good work guys, that was easier than I thought it would be." The leader tossed his gun over his shoulder carelessly, and surveyed the area. His eyes passed me, not seeing my still figure in the abyss of black. I steel myself in a crouch, thinking of a million ways to kill each one of them.
The bullets in their guts, my mask's razor teeth in their throats so it spills their blood, breaking their bones slowly, taunting them into attacking, throwing my dagger, hanging them, crushing them, turning them on each other, etc.
Just as I'm about to make my move, a sixth person comes out, and his appearance stops me. The skinny boy is happy, almost childlike happy. His youthful face makes me pause, and I look for innocence in his young face. Perhaps I could spare him… But there was no real innocence, only adrenaline.
I take a step forwards, and my eyes zero in on the young man's hands. A silver toaster lay in them, the cord dragging behind him.
"Hey look, guys! I grabbed a toaster!" He shouts, his smile widening. I snort, looking at the leader. He looks at the guy as the others roll their eyes.
"I love your work ethic, Tommy. It's an inspiration to us all." His sarcastic tone makes Tommy look at him funny, but he follows as his robbery members go to leave. I move to take down the first two, but stop again as chains come out from the darkness across from me. The chains grab the men I was heading for, and they drop their guns, trying to stay where they were. I flash my eyes at them, then to the four that remained. At their stunned looks, I make my move.
I dive forwards just as groans come from the shadows, and barely duck the chains as they come out again. I knock down one of the heavy men, and the leader. The other burly guy drops his safe as he's dragged into the shadows.
I waste no time using my mask's teeth to dig into the burly man's neck, ripping at the flesh. His scream never made it past a bubble in his throat. I pull back, releasing the warm body of the dead guy with a dark satisfaction. I turn to the leader, smiling cruelly behind my mask. His terrified eyes meet mine.
"Please…" He whispers, looking at my blood dripping mouth. "Spare me." My eyes flash with an unseen amusement.
"Why?" I hissed, dipping my head to his neck. The man freezes as he feels wet blood touch his throat, staining it. I graze my teeth against him, his warmth heating my metal. He won't be warm for long…
There was no reply from him, and I smile as he sucks on his tongue. I hear him swallow, and his arm moves. My left hand reaches his gun, getting it before he could. He swallows again.
"You're a person, you must have something good in your heart." He tries. I chuckle, ignoring the clank of metal coming from the shadows.
"I'm not made of sugars and spices, and I'm not made of frogs and puppy dog tails either. I'm made of death, desire, and pain." On the last word, I dig into his throat slightly, bowing my head to get skin between the teeth. He shouts, his hands balling at his sides because of said pain.
"Please!" He shouted once more, turning his head towards me. I grab his gun, lifting it. I open my mouth to answer, but a gunshot rings out, and it wasn't from my stolen gun.
Pain shoots down my right arm, a bullet embedding itself into my forearm. I lift my head quickly, facing in the direction the pain came from. Tommy, in all his shakiness, holds his gun, pointing it at me. I bite my lips, willing myself not to yell in pain. Instead, I face the leader again. He looks up at me, and he knows what's going to happen.
He moves to get away, but I hold him in place as I lunge. As I shredded into his neck with my metal teeth, I twirled us, so Tommy's next shot hits him. The leader's scream stops in his throat as the bullet embeds itself into his head. I point the gun at Tommy, and fire. My arm jerks back as I fire, my hand going numb for a second.
The bullet gets Tommy, going through his neck and out the back of his head. His eyes widen and glaze over with tears. He drops his gun, staring me dead in the eyes. The happy look disappears, and in its place, pain. I look away as he drops to the ground, blood pouring from his throat and mouth.
I push the leader from me, forgetting my hurt arm for a moment. Keeping the gun in my good hand, I stand slowly. I look around carefully before dropping my shoulders. Good, no one's here. I cradle my hurt arm to my chest as I point the gun at the shadows. I listen for rattling, and fire where I heard it. There were 3 screams, before all went silent. I sigh, dropping the gun. It clang sharply, the water it fell in cleaning it of fingerprints. No one will know who I am, only that I came, killed, and left. I look at Tommy, his closed eyes about the only peaceful thing on his face.
Innocence gone, I know that if I wasn't already going to hell, I would be going now. I killed a kid. Granted he was older than me and tried to kill me first, but that didn't give me the right to kill someone who wasn't even twenty yet.
Besides, he was trying to protect someone, his leader. Oh well, too late to change it. I've done my damage, I'll pay the price once I get there. In other thoughts, I look at the graying sky. I need to get hidden, and take care of my arm.
I bent down, getting the leaders blood in my hands. I turn to the closest wall, coloring it with my signature.
As I shake my hand of any blood, I turned to a different wall, looking for a way to get up without using my useless arm. Imagine my surprise when I see a chain dangling there. I look around, even looked up, but there wasn't anyone else there. So where did the chain come from?
I grab the chain, careful about how I hooked it around my waist. I tug it tightly, pleased when it squeezed me instead of undoing itself. I look up the two-story building, and steeled myself for 5 minutes of painful climbing.
Perhaps it was my adrenaline, but I somehow got up the building quicker than I thought possible for someone who had to use one arm and two legs. At the top, I set my legs carefully on the roof, using my good hand to undo the chain.
"Who are ya?" Came from the darkness behind me. I whirl around, the chain dropping to the ground with a menacing clank. A figure, crouched low to the ground, stares at me. His face is hidden by a shadow, but I could tell his body was covered in metal by the gleam it gave off in the minimal light of the city. In his hands was a chain, the same one I used to get up here.
I cornered myself unknowingly, what the hell? Shouldn't I be smarter than this? Wasn't I trained to be smarter than this? In the 3 months I've been here, I've never gotten cornered, because I've always been cautious. So why now of all nights, must I get cornered? I sighed, dropping my head in defeat.
"I'm…SS." I answer, looking around for a way out. There's always a way.
"Okay… What's yer real name SS?" I snap my eyes at him, my jaw dropping behind my mask. He's so bold. Which means he knows I'm helpless. I sneer, taking a step forwards. Helplessness, that's never something I deal well with.
"What's it to you?" I ask, balling my fists. I ignore the pain in my right forearm.
The man stands, his face still covered by shadow, though I could have sworn I saw something green. He drops the chains, his 3-fingered gloves balling up in anger. He crosses his arms over his chest, putting his feet at shoulders length. Beside him, I see a helmet.
"Look lady. Ya jus' now stopped me from doin' my job. The least ya can do is tell me yer name." His Brooklyn accent brings a shiver down my back, and a warmth to my stomach. He sounded painfully familiar, perhaps I know him? I roll my neck, keeping my eyes on the helmet. It looks familiar. Almost like…
"Alright Night Watcher. It's Susan. And yers?" I mock his accent, angered that I'm facing New York City's "Justice". Well, one of New York City's justices. He works along with the police, catching criminals to see what their fate is in the court. They never see what really happens behind the walls, like I do. Which makes me a different kind of Justice. The non-merciful kind. I see, dish out, and leave. Nothing more to it.
Night Watcher pauses, rocking on his heels, but he seems to steel himself as he answers.
"Raphael. How's yer arm?" He questions, pointed at my hurt arm. I look at it, watching blood drip from my balled hand. I lift it, brushing back the sleeve.
The bullet did a good job. There's a hole about the size of my pinky nail on my lower forearm, maybe 3 inches from my wrist, and from it, a rather large amount of blood drips from it. As I watch the blood with fascination, Raphael gets closer. I don't have time to move as rough gloves grab my forearm. I look up, almost choking on the pain that the grab caused. Instead, I freeze in shock, staring at a… turtle?
He was, unmistakably, a turtle. Or at least a hybrid of one. He looked human in his own sense. I could clearly say I had never met him before, despite how familiar he'd sounded. His dark green skin reminded me of a forest, something I always liked to see in my travels over America. His face was unscathed in the dark, save the crease that lead to his mouth, and his nostrils. His eyes, squinting at my wound, were hazel brown, and exceptionally intelligent looking for a turtle. They seemed to burn my skin with the heat of a furnace. He wore a red mask across his eyes, and over his shoulder, the tails of the mask acted like the hair he doesn't have. Immediately, despite the horrific differences he had to normal humans, I was struck by awe that he existed.
Raphael looked up at me, a small lilt to his lips. White teeth appear, gleaming in the rising sun. I think I can hear distant police sirens, but neither the sun nor the sirens made me run. I was rooted to the spot, amazed that I was staring at a turtle with human features. He's a mutant, a freak of nature. I should want to run away, but I don't. Curiosity colors me red, and I look away, blushing for the first time in a long time.
"Yer goin' ta lose more blood if ya don' get to a doctor soon. My brother is smart, he can get the bullet out, and help ya heal." At 'Brother', I snap out of it. I pull back, yanking my arm out of his hands. I ignore the pain as I cross my arms over my chest. I step back, turning to leave, but stop as he sighs in an almost tired way, rubbing his face in what looked like a rough scrape.
"Look, I know I ain't the best lookin' guy around, and I don' know why I'm saying it, but the least ya can let me do is help yer arm." I face him again, snorting with dark amusement.
"My arm is fine. Just some blood. And you're right, you ain't the best lookin' guy around, but that's not why I'm leaving. Family isn't something I deal with."
"What 'bout yer family?" He asked, his eyes gleaming. I look around, cornered again.
"They died three years ago in a homicidal train crash. Now if you don't mind, I need to go…" I turn to leave, but stop when an arm grabs me. I'm twirled around, too close to Raphael's green face suddenly. I see tiny flecks of yellow in his eyes as he looks at me, and I feel as if I don't have my mask on as his eyes pierce through mine.
"Let me help yer arm. Being SS and all, I doubt you can go to the hospital." Damn it, stuck between a rock and a hard place. He's right, if I leave, I won't be able to go to the hospital because they'd know who I was by blood works. The missing orphan from Oregon, last seen in Indiana 6 months ago. Even if I managed to get away again, they'd have my DNA for when I did leave something at my killing sights. My arm will get an infection, and I'll die without antibiotics, and you can only get antibiotics at a hospital or pharmacy. I can't go waltzing into a pharmacy and buy antibiotics because I have no money; but if I go with Raphael, I may get attached to his family, however weird they look.
Which is worse? Being put in foster care, being found guilty of being SS, dying of an infection, or getting attached to a family of mutants? All sound bad, but living is better than dying, and a small attachment is better than foster care… Plus, I don't like the thought of dying at 15 years old, no matter how prepared I am for it. Especially while I'm still choking New York City with fear of my name.
I look down again, doomed with my answer. My life can only get slightly better, a lot worse, or just maybe turn for the ugly.
"I'll go, only to get my arm fixed. After it's healed, I'm leaving, and you will never see me again." I sigh in reluctance, and he sighs in relief. I reach out my left hand, and he shakes it. I look away as he turns around. We walk a few feet before I get a dizzy spell. I find myself falling forwards, grabbing Raphael's back to steady myself. Which makes me wonder, does he have a shell under there? How many fingers and toes does he have? Does he have a tail? What does he use to use the bathroom?
"Hey! Wha- Susan?" I blink a few times, getting a baring of my surroundings again. I'm flat on my back, my head swirling with colors and pictures. Raphael is above me, looking down at me with confusion. I gasp, getting my breath back.
"Loss of blood… dizzy spell." He nods understandingly, swooping down to pick me up. My head droops back for a moment, before resting on cool metal. My right arms swings around Raphael's neck, grabbing his shoulder as we started moving. "Don't let me fall, Raph…" I trail off on his name, unable to finish it as another wave of dizziness overcoming me as we jump to the next roof. He looks down at me, and I see an emotion flash before his eyes.
"Never, Susan." Susan… Something cold moves through me, and my mother's berating voice came through. 'How could you do that? Raphael wants to help you and you lie to him? I raised you better than that.'
Why didn't I give him my real name when he asked? What could he possibly do with it? Tell the police? I think they'd be more interested in him than me… Maybe I could…
"Not Susan." He glances down at me, a look of surprise on his face, like he had expected me to have fallen unconscious by now. I feel like I'm being dropped, and tighten my arms around the turtle, but he didn't drop me, he was just getting us to ground level.
"Not Susan?" He asked, setting me down on the ground. Something heavy moves, and I'm tossed over the turtle's back. I unconsciously wrap my arms around him, feeling us drop again. Another dizzy spell nearly sinks me into the dark. Damn, I really wouldn't have pulled out of this one. If it wasn't an infection, it'd be the immediate blood loss.
"That's not my name. An alias. Fake…" I smell something like sewage, its intoxicating smell, and that's what pulled me under. At least Raphael knew not to call me Susan.