A/N: Sorry for the wait again, but like I said, I will not be abandoning this story but I'm almost ashamed to admit that I've been sucked into the One Piece fandom and have like, 5 story ideas for that, so we'll see what happens. So to the guest that keeps reviewing the same chapter under different names, thank you for your input, it really helps me get going, but maybe try to space them out more than just five minutes?
Anyway, now this is getting long so bare with me. I've found this fic to be a little more challenging, because I can write a bunch of different scenes and interactions between Shredder and my OC, but they aren't in chronological order. As soon as I get the story set, I think I'll be pumping out chapters a little faster. But that, of course, is coming from the person who lives off procrastination. So Sorry. This will definitely NOT be regular updates.
But enough pointless crap, on with the show!
Chapter 3
"Good," a man said. "If anything changes, call me right away."
"And when he wakes up, call me," another man said.
"Don't try to do too much on your own," the first man said again. "Despite his condition, we have no idea who he is or what he's capable of. Stay safe, Alice."
"Thanks Martin," the woman replied.
"Don't do anything stupid," the second man called.
"Goodbye, Benjamin," she scoffed.
"Don't call me that," he frowned.
The door opened with a gust of wind, blowing the cold air into the cabin. The fire flickered in the stove, and a shiver ran through the sleeping man. The woman barred the door as it closed, making sure it wouldn't blow open on it's own, before stoking the fire, adding a few more logs before setting a pot of water on top to boil.
Finished with her chores, she slumped into a comfy chair and pulled an oversized, hardcover book onto her lap with a golden printed title and thick pages. She opened the book to where she left an old piece of cardboard as a book mark and subconsciously reached over to turn on her music once again. The song played softly as she lost herself in her book
Oo-oO
The sun comes up, it a new day dawning
It's time to sing your song again
Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes
Oo-oO
Despite the charade, the man who only appeared to be sleeping grimaced at the sound of yet another song filling the silence. He had woken up to the sound of the door bursting open and the rush of cold infiltrating his warm haven. A doctor accompanied by another man had come to inspect his condition. None of them noticed that he was awake, and it stayed that way. All the better to collect information. According to the doctor, he had sustained broken legs, fractured ribs, gash on his right calf, various degrees of frost bite and a mild case of hypothermia. It was worse than he thought. He couldn't walk with broken legs, at least that's what logic told him.
In the end, it was deemed that he wasn't fit to be moved. They were apparently somewhere deep in the forest. Somewhere that emergency vehicles couldn't easily access, made all the more impossible by the recent snow storm. Just his luck, although he couldn't see himself lying in a hospital bed just waiting around for himself to heal. But it would be harder for his forces to find him here.
The man that accompanied the doctor had been most irritating, insisting that they call the police and let them deal with the strange man. The woman had straight out refused, saying something about a calling or her duty as something or other. He didn't fail to notice that she left out the part about him being dressed in Japanese battle armour, and wasn't sure what to make of that.
The woman seemed to be harmless enough. She was simply trying to be the good Samaritan, helping those in need. It made him sick; a weak human thinking she can help someone as mighty as him.
But in the end, she had.
Oo-oO
Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, O my soul
Worship his Holy name
Sing like never before, Oh, my soul
I'll worship his holy name
Oo-oO
The woman started singing again, under her breath. With a mind clear of delusions and fever, he was able to get a proper look at her from the corner of his eye. Like he thought before, she was a rather plain woman, dressed in plain clothes.
It was unnerving. This woman, what are her motives? Why would she help a complete stranger, bring him back to her home and care for him? He had not seen naivety like this since . . .
An image of another woman, long since departed, appeared in his head and a familiar stab of sadness and betrayal hit his gut. Why was he thinking of the kind and gentle Tang Shen? What brought on these memories? This woman was nothing like her.
He inspected the woman again, hunched over her book, lips forming voiceless words to the song playing in the background.
Oo-oO
You're rich in love and your slow to anger
Your name is great and your heart is kind
For all your goodness I will keep on singing
10,000 reasons for my heart to find
Oo-oO
The woman was stuck in her book and paying him no mind. He took the opportunity and risked moving around. His injuries screamed in protest, but he endured it, the same way he endured as the reset his bones while keeping up the front unconsciousness. He raised his head, to his ribs protests, and peered around the room.
At first glance, he confirmed that he was indeed in a sort of cabin. Quite a cluttered room. There was the door the two men had entered and exited from, the entrance still wet with snow. There was a thick mat on the ground to soak up any moisture that invaded and a coat rack holding various winter paraphernalia. At the back of the cabin were two doors that seemed to open up into the rest of the cabin, more private spaces, although he wasn't sure who there was to be private from. An old looking piano was set up against this back wall, which must have been where he heard the music from . . . or was that a dream?
The woman's chair was located at the foot of his bed, where a sort of living area was set up with an old television, a couch to go with the woman's recliner, beyond that was a wooden table set with three chairs that seemed to have been taken from different places at different times. The table itself was littered with papers and books some organized more neatly and some just strewn in places. Behind the table, almost an entire wall was lined with book shelves all stuffed full of books of different sizes and colours, most of which looked like reference books, textbooks, containing knowledge instead of stories. This sparked a memory.
The doctor, during his visit, had mentioned an attic, and warned the woman not to go up there while there was a patient, lest she release something that would inhibit his recovery. He cast his eyes to the roof, and spotted the small square panel that led to the upper space, with a step ladder leaning against the wall nearby. He wondered what mysteries were up there, and why the woman wasn't permitted to 'play in her lab', as the doctor said, while he was recovering. What sort of woman is she?
The song played on in the background building in volume as the second verse finished and chorus repeated. The woman turned the page of her book, readjusting her grip on the hard cover and propping it up slightly. He strained his eyes to peer at the golden letters printed on the cover. He could make out the word 'Infection', and was instantly on guard.
This must be the reason she has secluded herself out in the middle of a forest. She must be conducting some sort of experiments on human disease in an isolated area where no one will be exposed to the dangers of her work. He wondered momentarily if he would be able to use her research to aid him in his vendetta.
Perhaps she was working on a pathogen that could kill a man in seconds. Maybe a method to infect a large number of people with an incurable disease. Or better yet, something that would prolong suffering, causing the utmost amount of pain before finally eating through the skull and spilling liquefied brain on the ground.
He smiled at the thought of pain, suffering and death and imagined the face of the rat he once called brother being destroyed by each and every one.
Oo-oO
Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, O my soul
Worship his Holy name
Sing like never before, Oh, my soul
I'll worship his holy name
Oo-oO
The woman was singing again, lost in the song. Her book fell into her lap, and her eyes had strayed to the window above his bed. Her gaze was far away as she declared her faith in the God he would never care to know.
But then the powerful words of her song faded into a soft promise.
Oo-oO
And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing you praise unending
10,000 years and then forever more
Oo-oO
Even on her death bed, she promises to never falter. To never stop. To always persist. In this way, he guessed they were the same. He decided long ago that he would never falter in his quest for vengeance. To never stop the chase until his prey was caught. And to always persist until he had his revenge.
They may come from different sides of the spectrum, but they shared the same determination. He could respect that. But a song is just a song. She'll have to do more than just recite lyrics before he would come to recognize her ambition.
"Lord, I'll worship your holy name." The song finished and the woman's eyes fell from the window and back the book that lay in her lap. She fingered the thick pages, deep in thought. But the bubbling pot of now boiling water on the stove had her jumping to her feet and rushing over.
This will be interesting, he thought as he closed his eyes again.
A/N: Song: 10,000 Reasons by Matt Redman