Brotherhood
Chapter 4
What's Poppin y'all? Bet your happy to see me huh? Well I got a treat for y'all. Let's get it.
"Hey kid, what's in the bag?" The question wasn't one of aggression, more of curiosity. The subway was eerily silent save for the train tracks.
Michelangelo was looking at the very same Dragon who he drew in his picture. It scared him half to death and intrigued him at the same time. The onyx black headband that casted a shadow over his acid green orbs struck fear inside him. That color was almost like a warning sign. The constant scowl on his face didn't help either. It made him seem like he was always teetering on the edge of kicking someone's teeth at all times. His bright red dreadlocks were wild and everywhere, like tendrils of his anger and frustration in physical form.
The street artist just shook his head. The red-headed street tough crossed seats and sat next to the slightly smaller young man.
"Look, I ain't gonna hurt ya, bruh. You that Triforce kid, right?"
The pale artist shook his head once more, he clutched his backpack tighter.
"Strong silent type huh? I feel you. See I knew you was a street artist with whole bandana and the scribble shit on your backpack and skateboard. Your work ain't bad."
Another stranger walked up to the two of them with a stern face.
"Gimme the bag kid." It was the Dragon who talked shit about Mona. Michelangelo gripped his bag tighter, He was already wary of having one Dragon sit next to him, now another came in the picture.
"You hard of hearing kid? Gimme the bag and there won't be no trouble. I just wanna see what's in it." The dragon spitting out the mean tone was dark-skinned much like the one sitting next to him.
"Look, he don't owe us nothing, b. If he don't wanna give you his bag, then leave the man alone." The dreadlocked Dragon stood up and faced the other one.
"You standing up for him, Red? This ain't nothing to do with you, besides he's just some random kid. Why do you care?"
"We got rules in this gang. We only go after those who owe us money, bruh. He just minding his own business, ain't bothering nobody." Red gave him a stare that would run others blood ice cold.
Apparently, the Dragon didn't care enough to listen so he snatched the bag from Michelangelo forcefully.
The look on Mikey's face was of pure horror, which then turned to anger, as he whipped out what looked like to be, some sort of rope-ball weapon. He swung it in an upward motion, knocking the thief dead in his chin.
The Dragon was clearly angry as he charged at Michelangelo, wringing his hands around his neck. Mikey's face was turning red because of how hard the air was being snatched from his lungs.
He could see his life flash before his eyes.
He saw water and the deep darkness of it and how it swallowed him whole. The flash of the maroon color burned in his brain. He couldn't help but fight the pain, both physical and emotional.
The crowd on the train either gasped or sat and watched. This was normal to them.
Red pulled his fellow gang member by the vest and threw him into the other side of the subway wall. Two fists slugged into the ruffian's face.
The anger the redhead felt was only rivaled to the anger he felt someone hurt his loved ones.
The street artist sucked in large amounts of air as he dropped down his seat. He clutched his throat in haste. His bandana loosely fell from his neck. He had never been so afraid in his life.
But Red barely knew him. Why was he standing up for him? Why was he protecting him? Even going so far as beating up one of his own members? Wasn't there some gang code or something?
"I told you to back off him! He ain't bothering nobody! You lucky I didn't have that rope-ball shit, cause I woulda beat you like you stole something."
The Purple Dragon member proceeded to pass out.
Mikey heard Red mumble something along the lines of 'coward'
Red picked up the bag and handed it over to Mikey.
"You okay, kid?" Red's tone was calm and even. After a slow nod of confirmation, Red sat back down.
"Listen….you got a name, little dude?" He noticed the scar on his throat, it was probably why he wasn't speaking. It made him sad for some reason.
Mikey grabbed his board and pointed to the bright orange sticker.
"Michelangelo? Too damn long, I'm just gonna call you Mikey. Listen here, Mikey. Never let anybody disrespect you. Not people, not the pigs, not even the Purple Dragons. You stand up for yourself, because if you don't. People will walk over you; People will take advantage of you. Remember that until the day you die."
The blonde rubbed his throat as he looked at the gang member in confusion.
"If you wonderin' why I saved you, it's because you remind me of when I was younger back in Brooklyn. All timid and passive and shit, you feel me? I hate bullies, always have and always will. Not many people know my real name, but you got heart kid, so I'll tell ya. It's—"
Michelangelo stopped him and pulled out the drawing he made of him. He made sure to point to the acronym R.A.P.H.
The street artist's vision began flickering in and out. He was sitting on a rooftop ledge looking out at the sky. He was surrounded by skyscrapers, which suggested New York.
He saw what looked to be a human-sized turtle in a dark red mouth guard sitting next to him. It was burly and armed with pronged weapons. It some form of tactical ninja pants but everything was bare. It had many scars along its frame, especially on its face.
What's even worse? He began talking to him.
"You ok, Mikey? You gawkin' at me like I grew another head or somethin'."
He looked down to see that he himself had three fingered hands and green skin. His hands were wrapped in bandages and he seemed to be holding nunchaku.
His vision flickered once again, he was back in the subway with the street tough he had known as Raph.
"Hey, Mikey. You alright, bruh?" Raph waved a hand in front of his freckled face.
He shook out of his stupor and nodded dumbly.
"You sure? You was gawkin' at me like I grew another head or somethin'."
That's when his eyes widened to comical proportions.
He had to go now.
Right now.
When the train stopped they both got off and went their separate ways. The young mute speeded down the street on his board to see his therapist.
"Wonder what the hell's his problem?" Raph muttered to himself as he made his way to the hospital.
Renet was performing what was known as the Rorschach test on Michelangelo.
"Ok, what do you see here?" Her calm voice lulled him into a stable mood.
He drew a little sketch of what he saw on his small whiteboard.
"Mikey, is that a throwing star?" Renet looked to see the inkblot she had showed him…she only saw the normal image.
She showed him another inkblot, He drew a nunchaku. Then another, he saw a turtle shell. And then he saw something completely different, a rat.
"Michelangelo, you seem to be having visions of some sort, can you tell me what they are?"
He took his pencil and sketched out an image of two man-sized turtles and a tall rat…man. One turtle had an orange bandana covering his mouth with a black smiley face on it. He seemed jovial and nonchalant. The other had a red samurai mouth guard. He seemed combative and tense.
Renet analyzed the image very carefully as she tapped the eraser of her pencil on her chin.
"Do you believe these man…turtles and rat man speak to you in some sort of way? Almost like you are playing a video game and the turtle in orange is your aforementioned character?"
Mikey jolted up with elation, someone understood him! He pecked on her on the cheek, grabbed his things and bolted.
Renet sputtered like a fish out of water as tinges of pink arose in her cheeks.
Raph made his way to see Angel in the hospital. He his long sleeve shirt, he didn't Angel knowing he was with the Dragons. It would kill him, if she found out. He had his shoebox with him, which was filled with all the cash he had collected over the many months, legal and illegal. It was enough to get Angel out.
When he got there, she was awake and seemingly functioning.
"Hey, Angel. You good, lil sis?" He spoke in a soft and comforting tone.
"Raphael? Boy, am I glad to see you. You're gonna turning twenty-one tomorrow, you should be getting drunk and having a good time."
Raph's face fell as he winced harshly.
"I turned twenty-one six months ago, Angel."
Her brow raised highly.
"What do you mean, tomorrow's June 7th. You check your calendar, big bro?"
The redhead sighed in sorrow. He bowed his head slightly, he couldn't look at her like this.
"Today is December 7th. You just woke up from a six-month coma. You remember, from the day you got hit by that truck?"
Angel's facial features paled, as she slowly realized her predicament. She looked down at the bed she was sitting up in as it hit her like a train.
It all came back to her, the hollow pain, the beeping from the heart monitor, the bright lights. She began to tear up and hold her hands to her mouth in shock.
"It's ok, the doc said you're gonna be alright. I'm here, Angel. Big bro's here." He encased her in his slightly muscled arms in a loving embrace.
"What do you remember, Ange? If anything. You don't gotta say nothin' if you don't wanna." He released her and sat next to her bed.
"All I remember is a bright light, no horns, and some big burly blonde guy running from the truck."
Raph froze. That sounded awfully familiar, then again it could just be some other big burly blonde dude.
"I think he had a scar over one of his eyes, or something I don't really remember."
Raph's acid green eyes flickered, trying to deny the truth, his fist tightened until his knuckles turned white.
"Did this big, burly blonde dude have a tattoo running up his arm?" The chocolate-skinned young man asked evenly.
"Yeah, it was like a dragon or a purple…something."
Raph did very well at hiding the pure explosion of fury that sat beneath his blank expression.
Hun, the leader of the Purple Dragons, the gang he was currently in…ran over his baby sister. This wasn't gonna end well for the gang.
He forced a smile as he called in the docs to get her situated as he handed the doctor the shoebox. The doctor looked at him warily.
"Keep this on the low, aight? Just tryin' take my sis home."
The doctor took the box, once he saw how much was inside, it didn't take much convincing.
Raph wheeled his sister out of the hospital as the all-too familiar red truck pulled.
The window rolled down to reveal one secretly mental hockey player Casey Jones and his trusted butler Sebastian.
"Greetings Master Raphael and Miss Angel." The butler's proper British tone was warm and comforting.
"Hey Bastian," The two said simultaneously.
"Hey Angel. How ya doin' sis?" Casey's bright smile made her feel a helluva lot better as Raph put her in the backseat and got in himself.
"Better now, Case." She was happy to have her family back.
"Raph." Casey's tone was stern and even. He began to drive off.
"Casey."
"So when you gonna be done with your little street project?" Casey knew he was in the Dragons; he had always known. He didn't want him to be in with them in the first damn place. It was bad stuff, really bad.
"Soon, Casey. Sooner than you think."
Casey wasn't expecting that answer.
"Good, bro."
"What are you guys talkin' bout?" Angel's inquiry popped up in the conversation.
"This video game I been playin'. Looks I got some Dragon slaying to do pretty soon." His fists tightening was a bad sign, especially when he cracked his neck. No one knew that except Casey.
And Dragon slaying he was gonna go. .one of them.
Man, what y'all think gonna happen. I'm gonna tell you this, just know you can't Dragon slaying without Nightwatcher. I'm