Revelations: Need to know basis.
Some dreaded emotion washed over him; wrapping around his warm skin like silky ribbons. Cold ribbons which made his heart shudder in trepidation. He found himself awestruck when he saw Raph and Don launch themselves across the rooftops, making it seem like the most natural element in the world. He found himself envying their ability to do that. It brought back his queries about their origins and nature. He tore his eyes away from the duo upon hearing Leo's last bit of words to Mikey. The blue-masked turtle was already following in his siblings' footsteps, racing towards the edge of the building as Mikey shouted after him. "You've got it, bro!"
Samson could only stare as three of the four turtles went off on their own leaving one behind with him. Turning to face Mikey, the man's brows furrowed in suspicion. "So what, you're like my babysitter or something?" Samson asked, making his way to find a fire escape. He wanted to get down from the structure, badly. He leaned over the short wall to estimate the distance of the drop when he was suddenly hoisted over the edge. He yelled out loud; hearing Michelangelo's laugh and clutched at the rough concrete in fear, tearing away his fingernails.
"I'm no babysitter," Mikey chuckled, "I'd make an awesome body guard though. The ninja type. I won't need a gun or anything, and I'll be as silent as a cat in the jungle. You know, like those tigers you see on TV. They're pretty big and powerful, and yet you'll never know when they're about to strike. Did you know that the Jaguar kills its prey by crushing the skull between its jaws? They deliver the killing blow by piercing the temporal region of their prey's skull with their teeth. Pretty cool, huh?"
The turtle was hoisting the twenty year old over his shoulder and climbed on top of the short wall, overlooking the distant ground below. Fuck. He's not going to do what I think he is, is he? Samson's eyes pained slightly as the blood rushed to his head building pressure behind the skull. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded of Mikey, staring in terror at the world underneath. "Are you fucking mad? Put me down! "Samson would have struggled, but the fear of falling crippled him.
"Whoops!"
Samson wondered why the turtle made that sound, and was soon granted his answer when he saw everything flying past him. The breeze rushed about him rustling his hair and filling his ears with hollow whistling sounds. Samson always saw himself as a well-gathered fearless individual, although he found himself bawling like a cattle being butchered. He saw flashes of concrete, darkness, patches of windows with lights and fire escapes; in his unwilling travel adventure with Mikey. The turtle chatted non-stop during the journey; half of which was lost in Samson's cries of protest.
"Sorry man, I get carried away sometimes. I just wanted to get you to this place I know real fast...it's pretty safe," Mikey began, jerking a fire escape as he landed on it. "I know that you could walk and all, but as you can see; my mode of transportation is much faster and way more efficient. You wouldn't've been able to keep up with me. Really sorry about that. Are you afraid of heights? I wouldn't have carried you if I'd known that you were afraid of heights." The turtle finally placed the human on the ground, and the dizzy human stumbled a bit before looking up at the orange masked-face.
"You're - you're crazy!" he shouted, pointing at the turtle. He was having a hard time catching his breath when Mikey yanked his arm and pulled him down to duck behind a vehicle. Surprisingly, they were in another alley, but it all looked the same to Samson. Dark sullied bricks, scarred by a plethora of colorful graffiti that went up to as high as the artists themselves dared. A few trash bins lined the length of the alley, saturating the air with thick unpleasant aromas. The young man was suddenly craving his house at that moment, where the air was breathable.
The turtle was crouched down beside him with his weapons drawn and peered through the glass of the brown sedan.
"What are y-" Samson's question was shot down when Mikey placed a hand over his mouth as a new voice bellowed from beyond.
"Where are those fucking imbeciles? They were supposed to meet me here with the cash fifteen minutes ago," The voice was accompanied by heavy boots stomping on sloshy cold wet stone. Samson raised his brow at Michelangelo questioningly while the turtle removed his hand from the man's mouth and raised a thick finger to his lips to shush him.
"I don't know why I trusted those idiots to rob the bank in the first place. They're lazy and incompetent; can't even follow the simplest instructions," the stranger growled in irritation, then he demanded, "You, go find those four fools and bring them back to me. I'm sure they're still wearing those fucking ridiculous turtle costumes." The man's voice dripped with disgust.
With that said, Michelangelo vanished from Samson's side, leaving the human to gaze at the empty space he left behind. "Shit, that can't be good," Samson's head rose upwards to look out for the orange-masked terrapin.
Through the glass of the brown sedan, he saw Michelangelo rush into the group of six men, unleashing his whirling nunchucks unto the unprotected skulls of his foes. Samson winced at the sound of a bone cracking when the first man received a blow to the head and fell back. Then another went down in a similar manner after failing to defend his face against the orange and green blur.
Samson marveled at the turtle's speed; watching Mikey move between the men as they blocked his strikes and tried to move away from the nunchucks. These four were dressed differently from the first two who were lying unconsciously on the cold ground. Instead of being dressed in baggy jeans and sweatshirts; three of them were covered from head to toe in a black garb with a single red symbol on their arm, while the fifth was a lean tall man with short ebony hair, and a dark blue silk robe-like dress. Samson wasn't sure what to make of the garment that was richly decorated with gold embroidery, but it reminded him of something he saw in one of Nick's photos from his trip to Japan.
The turtle dodged a kick from one of the ninja and caught the man's ankle between the chains of his nunchaku, crushing the joint in it. He yanked on the weapon and pulled the man towards him before flipping him over his shell. As the man fell to the ground, Michelangelo rose up out of his bowed position and shot his fist upwards to make contact with another opponent's chin, drawing blood from the bitten tongue. Then the orange-clad ninja spun around and kicked the fifth guy in the stomach, stopping his charge short. With a grunt the man staggered back clutching his injured mid-section.
The lighting in the alley did little justice to the action scene that played out before the eyes of the twenty-year old, and the night sky served no purpose because it was always overshadowed by the giants of New York City. The tall buildings robbed all its inhabitants of ever viewing the stars above. Samson always felt like they were towers of oppression; grandeur in their display of lights. The darkened alleys apparently served as little pockets of freedom where all the weird things happened. Where men dressed in strange gear and battled like characters out of an old Asian film.
The turtle ducked from the blades that were attempting to behead him, and rotated his body as he parried the gleaming weapons. Moving like a windmill, he finally disarmed the robed man, and struck the sixth and final man in the chest. The human staggered backwards, gripping the material of his robe over his heart in pain. To finish things off, Michelangelo delivered a roundhouse kick to his spine, sending him sprawling on the ground.
Mikey bent over one of the guys and pulled something from his pocket before running back to the brown sedan. "Hey, Samson, get in. We're getting the hell out of here before those guys come after us," he said climbing into the vehicle. "What are you waiting for? Get in!" He said sternly, emphasizing every ounce of urgency in his command to pull Samson out of his hesitation.
Following Mikey's order, Samson climbed into the vehicle and slammed the door. "Alright, alright. I'm in, happy now?" he threw his arms up in the air in exasperation. He had reached the notion that this young turtle wasn't going anywhere without him tonight, and he might as well suck it up and go along with the flow. Even though the ride was definitely a trip down the river Styx [1].
Ignoring the man's words, Mikey threw the car into reverse, and peeled out onto the streets, scattering the injured men in all directions. Samson couldn't help studying the ninja's face while the car rocked and tilted violently; turning to face in the turtle's desired direction. His orange mask darkened where his hairless brows furrowed, and his gaze was focused and intense. His chest and shoulders rose rhythmically as he breathed to burn out the excess adrenaline traveling through his veins.
Samson's eyes then landed on his left arm which he held tightly against his body with a clenched fist. The position in which he kept it cemented against his plastron suggested that it was injured, but the human saw no emotion of pain or anything registered on the turtle's face.
"You're hurt," Samson commented, showing a bit of concern for the green hero.
Mikey glanced at the young man out of the corner of his eye and cracked his neck. "Meh, it's just a sprain," he said nonchalantly.
"Huh," the twenty year old didn't know what to say after that. His intuition was telling him that the arm was more injured than the turtle let on, but he also got the impression that Mikey wasn't in a talking mood for a change. Finally.
Mikey's other arm gripped the steering, revealing the small bleeding gashes on his knuckles. A small smile tried to sneak its way onto the man's face, reveling in the tiny victory of finding rock-solid proof that they were indeed mortal giant green walking talking turtles.
Somehow he felt better about it, knowing that he didn't have to wonder anymore and at the same time angry. Angry that they had the audacity to trick his grandmother all those years ago, playing on the old woman's kindheartedness and adoration for Halloween costumes. She always went on about their father; that man in the rat costume. He wondered what she would have said if she was still alive and found out that Splinter was actually a giant rodent. Nothing good, I bet.
The terrapin's side was exposed to Samson because he was driving with his right hand and the green skin there looked almost transparent. It stretched with every intake of air, showing off tiny purple and green blood vessels that formed braided channels just beneath the surface. They pulsed ever so slightly, that they drew in Samson's attention to the point where he didn't notice his finger moving to make contact with the strange skin. Before he could stop his curiosity, his finger hit its target, and a crushing force snapped unto his wrist instantly.
"What the-! Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Mikey's good hand was locked unto the human's hand, and Samson felt his head slam into the window when the car swerved out of control.
"Shit!" The word flew out of the man's mouth as the force rattled his senses, and Mikey released his hand to regain control of the vehicle. The sedan barreled down the street, waxing and waning horizontally as the ninja tried to maneuver between the other vehicles.
"Are you nuts? Why'd you let go of the wheel? Slow down. Use the brakes!" Samson held on to the seat in panic, mashing down on imaginary brakes at his feet.
"I'm nuts?" Mikey turned his head to stare at Samson. "You're the one going around poking people. Leave that for Facebook or your girlfriend, not me!"
Samson's snapped his mouth shut as the turtle carried on, driving the car dangerously through an intersection.
"Are you attracted to me or something? Because I should let you know that I'm strictly into women. I don't mean to let you down or anything, but that's just the way it is. Next time ask for permission first before you try to touch someone. What you did there was very creepy, dude. You should've asked if I was interested in you or something; not poke me where I'm most sensitive," Mikey shrugged his good shoulder. "Don't look at me that way, I'm ticklish," he admitted shamefacedly.
The human male blinked rapidly clutching his seat; completely terrified by the orange-masked ninja's swerving and stunned by the words that spewed from his mouth. "Would you slow down!" He yelled firstly out of self-preservation, "and no, I'm not gay. I'm sorry I poked you, okay. It was an accident. Now slow the fuck down!"
"How could a poke be an accident? You did it on purpose," Michelangelo accused, "and I can't slow down!"
"Why not?" Samson demanded.
The turtle looked into the rearview mirror and nodded, "Because we're being followed."
The human spun around in his seat to see a grey pick-up tailing them. Depressed by the new development, he sank back down into his seat, hunching his shoulders up to his ears. He suddenly felt ensnared by the seatbelt and wanted to get out of the car. The lights turned into blurred streaks and a force gently pushed him into the leather cushioning. It reminded him of his first time in flight training; though the force was much more unforgiving.
"Are you getting car sick, Sam?" Mikey's voice rescued him from plunging into dark negative thoughts.
"I don't get car sick," Samson corrected. He jolted to the right when Mikey swung the car into a street on the left, and remembered to shield his head from striking the glass again. He'd have a concussion by the end of the night.
"You don't? Wow, that's so cool. I wish I was like that. I get car sick all the time. Except when I'm driving," Mikey frowned in thought and crashed through a stall on the sidewalk that vomited flowers unto the windscreen. "I wonder why that is?" He flipped on the wipers and waved his hand dismissively. "I'm sure Donny would have an explanation for that. Here," the terrapin winced faintly as he moved his injured arm to retrieve a small device from his belt. He flicked his wrist and tossed it into Samson's lap, "Take my cell; you'll see a tiny blue button on the top left. Press it and tell where my brothers are," he directed.
Samson took up the strange green thing in his hand and it opened up like a cooked clam. "I beg your pardon?" he asked staring blankly at the device.
"That tiny blue button activates the GPS for our phones. We can locate one another on our shell-cells. Just press it and tell me where my brothers are, please." Mikey blindly swerved into an alley and exited on the opposite end, pelting out unto another street. Samson would have looked back to see if the pick-up was still following them, but he dared not. He didn't want to find out how close death was to him, so he chose to press the tiny blue button on the alien phone instead. It glowed eerily as the screen changed to display an orange map with three small black dots jumbled together in one location.
"They're on 33rd street, somewhere near block six," the man assumed the dots were the other turtles.
The brown sedan turned at another intersection on squealing tires. "Thanks," Mikey smirked. "So, Samson. What do you do for a living?"
The question couldn't come at a more random, not to mention weird moment. The young man sighed inwardly thinking, Why the heck not? I'm in a car with a green humanoid turtle-being on Halloween night; and we're being chased by thugs who are most likely going to kill us. Happy Halloween Mr. Rodriguez. All I need now is a bottle of whisky to make me feel sane again.
"I'm training to become a commercial pilot. I teach part-time at the Community Centre though," Samson began but was cut off by Mike.
"Really, that's pretty awesome. You're probably the coolest teacher there, uh? I mean, becoming a pilot and all. If I were in your class, I'd be excited to see you every day. What do you teach?"
Mikey's comments made Samson feel highly uncomfortable with the sudden attention. He hated to be at the center of anyone's attention. It felt like a dozen large spotlights were pointed at him; boxing him in and burning holes into his body. The air inside of the car grew thick and stifling as Mikey waited for a response.
"No one at the Centre knows that I'm in Flight School, and I'd like to keep it that way. I teach math there, so I'm everyone's least favorite teacher," the human explained, leaning in his seat while Michelangelo brought the car out of a sharp corner.
The terrapin made a scoffing sound, "Math, hmm. I don't really like the subject myself, but I don't get why you don't want anyone to know about your flight training."
Samson shrugged, "That's just the way I am."
Mikey pursed his lips and looked up at the rearview mirror. "I-I think I finally lost them," he laughed victoriously, jerking his injured hand a bit too much and he had to shut his mouth to suck back in the pained gasp.
"You should have someone look at that arm, Mike," the human suggested; once again studying the mutant's form and wondering what happened when they were injured. Did they visit a private doctor or just take care of it themselves? He also wondered where they lived because it was clear to him that the quartet knew New York inside and out; like they were born and raise in the city. What the heck were they anyway?
"That's what Donny's for...or Splinter and Leo sometimes," he smiled broadly.
"Okay," Samson let it rest and decided to bring up another burning issue that was eating at him from the very beginning. "Are you guys aliens or something? Because I know that you're not human," he watched as the turtle's eye-ridge shot skywards on his face. "I could tell by your mouths and the cuts on your hands, among other things. So what are you exactly? How'd to come to be living in New York all these years?"
Michelangelo guffawed, causing the car to launch sideward violently. "Aliens, you went from ghosts to aliens! Now that's just hilarious. We look like aliens I guess. We've got the green skin down and everything. Except for Master Splinter; he'd probably have to be a giant Martian Mouse. Heh, too bad he's a rat through and through," he stopped himself abruptly and looked directly at Samson seriously. "Sorry dude, we're not aliens. We're mutants. Some chemical ooze fell on us and transformed us into, well, this," he glanced down at himself for emphasis. "You're not gonna go to the press and tell the world, are you? Because no one is supposed to know about us. You know, for safety reasons."
Samson saw fear and worry pool into the turtle's deep lively eyes, darkening them. They now appeared wistful; searching for some consolation in confidence. "Your secret's safe with me, Michelangelo," he assured the young ninja.
His eyes changed immediately to joy and relief, "Wow, thank you so much. I knew that we could trust you. You're just like your grandmother. I'm sure she's proud of you right now. I'm not sure why she never told you our secret though. You always seemed like a pretty good kid to me. Well, whatever her reason was I guess we'll never know now," the turtle's head lowered as he spoke.
Samson stared at the orange-masked head in surprise, "What did you just say?" His mind started spinning again with more questions. His Gran knew all along? She knew what they were and never told me? Why? He has to be mistaken. She would've never lied to me.
"I said -" Mikey began and suddenly interrupted himself. "Hey, didn't you say that they were on 33rd street somewhere near block six? How come we haven't seen them yet? I think I'm on the wrong street," Michelangelo banked the car towards an alley.
Samson cursed when his head knocked the glass and the seatbelt choked him back into the seat from the jolt. "Watch it!" He complained as the car flew towards a group of figures that were standing in Mikey's self-made shortcut. They dived out of the path of the flying vehicle and Mikey slammed down on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt.
"What in God's name is wrong with you?" Samson nerves were completely frayed by now.
"We found them," Mikey piped cheerfully. "My bros, they're all here. Heh, Heh. I almost flattened Leo there. That was a close call," he sighed in relief.
"Well good for you," Samson said sardonically as he jumped out of the vehicle; only to find himself surrounded by four figures. He blinked a couple times before trying to come to terms with what he was seeing. One of them looked like a poorly constructed 'Darth Vader.'
"Stalking us again, I see," Raphael noted, playing with the tip of a stained sai.
Samson ignored him and stepped away from the car as if it carried the plague.
"Mikey, I thought I told you to keep an eye on him?" Leonardo berated his sibling who was climbing out of the sedan.
Clutching his arm to his chest, he grinned at the bossy turtle. "I did, but we accidentally ran into a little trouble. We walked in on those guys that planned the heist. The real mastermind behind this whole mess was some guy working with both Foot ninja and the Purple Dragons. He's probably pretty pissed right now because I think I broke his back," he laughed. "Some of them tried to chase us, but I lost 'em with my mad driving skills and now we're here. These our impersonators?" He asked looking over the men dressed in weird green clothes from head to toe.
"Yeah," 'Darth Vader' answered. "They weren't good actors so we fired them," the man drew a bat out from under his cape and dropped it into the palm of his hand. The motion created a kind of smacking sound, like the gum he molded between his teeth.
Naturally, Mikey laughed at the statement while Donatello moved closer to him and hovered over his left arm. "Mikey, what happened to your arm?"
Mikey glanced down at his hand and ducked his head, "I dunno. I think I sprained it. It hurts worse than a sprain, you know. That's weird, huh? It's actually swollen, I think I need ice."
Donatello raised his naked brows at him and unglued his brother's arm from his plastron. "You clown, you fractured your arm," the purple masked ninja shook his head at his horrified brother.
"You mean I need a cast. That sucks. I need my two hands to finish off level ten of-" Mikey's voice was cut off by Raph's voice.
"I don't want to hear any more talking coming from your mouth, got it," he waited for Mikey to nod in return and turned to Samson. "We called the cops for these guys so basically you're home free," he explained.
Samson stood in their midst like an awkward stranger or possibly the third wheel, and a sense of betrayal pierced his skin with eager hungry claws. Gloria knew and she never told him. He blinked before he acknowledged the turtle's words. "You don't really expect to get a thank you from me, do you?" He crossed his arms over his chest stubbornly.
The five of them snorted and Raphael shook his head, turning to walk away. "I don't give shit what you do. I'm not begging you for anything, dickhead."
The man in the 'Darth Vader' costume chuckled, "You should've just said thanks, man. You might've gotten a better response."
Leonardo sighed heavily and bowed at the man, "Please accept our apologies for causing you so much trouble. I promise you won't see or hear from us ever again."
Samson simply nodded in return, accepting the apology, but still wanted to know how many secrets his grandmother kept from him. He believed that these mutants were the first of many. By the time he opened his mouth to ask, the blue masked turtle had left his presence.
"You should go home. The cops would be here soon," Donatello said, casting a wary glance around him. "See ya," he moved swiftly, leaving Samson with the lingering trouble maker. 'Darth Vader' too had left and a distant voice was calling Mikey's name.
He swallowed, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly, "I take it you're pretty mad at me?" He asked, pausing for a moment to figure out what expression he was seeing on the human's face. "I guess you would be, heck, even my brothers are mad at me. If I hadn't dragged them out here, then none of this would've happened," he allowed silence to sneak in again before continuing. "Is there perhaps a small chance that you'll find it in your really awesome heart of yours to forgive me, for even the slightest bit?" the turtle made a space between his thumb and forefinger to show the amount he was talking about, and a hopeful expression was etched on his face.
"I'm not mad at you," Samson stated, searching his memories for something. A clue perhaps; one that indicated Gloria's hidden knowledge of the mutants.
"That's awesome! I'm really glad that you're not mad at me. It means a lot to me. I'm really sorry for almost getting you killed and almost turning you into a fugitive. I'll never do that again. I swear on my honor," the turtle beamed cheerfully. "Wait, you said that you're not mad at me; who are you mad at then? Is it one of my brothers? Is it Raph? I bet it's Raph."
The orange-masked ninja's name echoed through the alley, bouncing off the walls with other colorful words from Raphael's vocabulary. Grinning sheepishly, the turtle flinched.
"She never told me," Samson said finally; not entirely listening to what Mikey was saying.
"What?" Mikey was surprised by the statement, and swallowed air as he absorbed what the young man meant.
"Gran never told me that she knew the truth about you guys, why?" he raised his head to look into Mikey's eyes, hoping for a reasonable explanation.
"Oh, about that," the terrapin rubbed the back of his head, "She was- she was going to tell you. I think we were seven at the time...you were ten, but something happened." Mikey's tone sounded crushed and he fidgeted with the fingers on his damaged arm. "Something happened; something that Master Splinter didn't like and he got all upset about it. I don't remember what it was exactly, but he flipped out and told her to forget about us. He said that it was better if you two had never met us," he finished sadly.
Samson searched his memory as Mikey spoke, trying the recall if he ever saw the rat angry. He came up with nothing. His mind was void of the event as if it never occurred. "What are you talking about, Michelangelo?"
Mikey's name came again; his brothers were still waiting on him.
"Listen, I gotta go. My brothers are waiting for me and the cops will be here soon," Mikey's speech was rushed and hesitant. "It wasn't your grandmother's fault, she only did what she thought was best for you, I'm sure about that. She probably didn't think that it'd matter anymore since we were never going to see each other again."
The twenty year old mused over the idea in his head and held his tongue. What had happened? Where was I when it did? What is he not telling me?
"What would upset your father so much? Where was I when all that happened?" he asked.
Mikey shrugged, "I think you and Raph were playing in your room."
Samson frowned in frustration and opened his mouth to ask another question, but the turtle was already making his way to the fire escape.
"It was nice meeting you again, Samson. I have to go, bye!" He looked over his shoulder once, flashing a wide smile and melted into the shadows.
Then on, Samson knew that he was never going to see the mutants again. Leonardo had made that promise to him and that particular turtle held fast to his commitments. He shook his head regretfully; wishing that he had gotten the chance to find out more about why they stopped coming for Halloween. He secretly missed the strange group. He and Gloria only had each other in the world and the five Halloween visitors became the woman's adopted family on the very night she invited them into her home. They didn't know this, but Samson did. He knew that deep down in his heart, his Gran felt lonely. She shouldn't've felt that way; she had her grandson, but there were times when she commented on them being lonely as a family. Samson's heart sank at the thought. He didn't see it that way. He had her and she had him. That was what made the difference. Whether it was just two of them on earth or, in the turtles' case, five of them in existence, they were never truly alone for they had each other. Smiling, Samson strode out towards the street to make his journey home.
[1] River Styx - Styx - Greek for hate. In Greek mythology this is the river that formed the boundary between Earth and the Underworld (aka Hades, which is also the name of the domain's ruler.) Wikipedia writes. If you don't believe me, then Google it. If you don't trust Wiki then I'd refer you to a book I have here...but nah. : P
I apologize; I really didn't want to split up this chapter. (^_^)
If I didn't mention it before, this was originally a One-shot. Now it's a Long-shot! Oh well.
I have to say thanks to AlexHamato for her inspiration! Do you like Mikey's rescue efforts? (^_^)
And thanks for reading guys.
I think I may add one final chapter if the suspense is too much...
Until then, Laterz!