10
Life in Motion
One often assumes that given a certain familiarity, almost any place on the face of the earth can begin to feel like home, or at the very least homey. But despite the frequency with which he was in one, airports were one of the few places that Jacob Marks never felt at home in. He had no problem with the many extremely strange and threatening situations and places he had been in over his years with the Service (although at the time he was nearly always functioning on an extreme combination of adrenaline, duty and blinding fear) but he was never so fundamentally jittery in them as he was in an airport. Too many people, too many distracting noises, and not enough cover area in the case of an enemy assault (assuming that he was ever assaulted while waiting for his baggage). So as he arrived in the city via a private helicopter, he passed over going through the terminal and the vicissitudes of airport security, and immediately going to the silver, vaguely sporty, luxury car that awaited him in the parking lot. He discovered its keys in the pocket of his canvas jacket, a part of the civilian clothes he had been given en route to change into. The Service was dependable like that, always doing that little extra, the kind of things that separate a good employer from a great one. The short life expectancy of their employees had something to do with the luxe treatment they got, but Jacob didn't mind, He'd been with them since he graduated high school six years ago and didn't plan on kicking the bucket any time soon.
With that thought, he and his shiny new car sped down the rural road away from the airport, anxious to see his sister.
Laurel, meanwhile was underground. Traveling away from the artsy district to somewhere much nearer to where she had lived these past two years, the shapes around her moved in and out of the shadows cast by lamplight filtered through grates and partially open manhole covers. The brick walled and moss covered tunnels curved on into the half-light and she had the sensation of traveling deep into the heart of myth, like they were going to come upon a gate guarded by a three-headed dog at any moment.
They didn't though, that sort of thing doesn't happen in the real world.
They turned a corner presently and Leonardo asked her, "Do you have the list?" She nodded and handed it to him, he in turn handed it to Donatello and Raphael who climbed up a few metal bars to the street and took off. Soon, Laurel, Michelangelo, and Leonardo were being greeted by Master Splinter who showed her to a small corner of the large room that had been curtained off. There was a bed, a lamp and a small bookshelf inside, taking up almost all the floor space. Laurel turned to the old rat, a quizzical look on her face.
"It is not much… but this is the best we could do." He smiled, hopefully.
She nodded, trying to look grateful, "Thank you,"
He bowed and turned away, talking to Leonardo quietly as he walked toward him.
"Hey, Laurel!" Mikey called to her, clambering down a few shallow steps from where the television stood, "You want some pizza or somethin'? We got some left from last night that's still pretty good." Laurel couldn't help but allow a small smile to creep into her heart. She shook her head. "Awww, whatever you say. More for me!" He declared, grabbing one of the grease-stained cardboard boxes that littered this side of the underground room. She wagered a guess that the T.V., couch and surrounding area were Michelangelo's kingdom. "Leo and Raph'll probably bring some fresh slices, when they get back with your stuff." He continued.
"Okay."Laurel replied, getting a flash of blood and cold morning air in her mind, "I'm just going to lie down now…" Mikey only nodded, intent on the cartoon that flashed on the screen before him. She walked into her new room, pulling the blanket that was her curtained door over the rough rope that suspended the partitions around her new bed, and her empty bookcase. She laid there, lamp still on, on top of the blankets, trying to hold the melancholy at bay.