Sorry about the delay, a little bit of writers block for all my stories unfortunately. I hope you all enjoyed the festive season! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the TMNT characters.
He landed silently on the fire escape then crouched below the windowsill, one kneepad pressed to the cool metal and the fingertips of his right hand splayed next to it for balance. Eddies of air swirled around him, dancing over his skin and lifting the tails of his mask while three stories below the sounds of late night traffic drifted up to him on the currents. If he listened hard enough he could make out individual voices of the humans that passed below, but he wasn't concerned that one would look up and see him. The shadows here were deep.
A few beats passed before he rose slightly on the balls of his feet and risked a quick glance through the glass. Thick curtains blocked his view. He sank back with a frown and tapped his chin, his intel was good and he was certain that this was the right room. After a small hesitation he decided to proceed and reached for the frame of the window, mentally running through contingency plans in the event he found it locked. He'd brought his glass cutting tools but, considering that he wanted his passing to go unnoticed, they were to be used as a last resort only. When the panel slid smoothly on well oiled tracks he allowed himself a small smile - hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
Seconds later he was on the other side and sliding the window closed again soundlessly. It wouldn't do for an errant breeze or honking car to alert the rooms inhabitant. Despite his bulk he knew his entrance had been barely noticeable, not the slightest rustle had given away his passing. Even so he froze, once again in a crouch as he scanned the bedroom. His heart pounded away annoyingly in his ears - a natural, adrenalin driven response considering the potential danger he was putting himself in - but counterproductive in the circumstances as it prevented him from hearing anything useful.
He squinted slightly at the dark lumps and formless shadows that filled the room. It was far too dark to reliably make out anything by sight. Falling back on his strongest sense he took a long, deep draw through his nostrils. Immediately a mix of smells were registered then catalogued by his brain. Fresh paint, a month or two old at the most, suggested the room had been redecorated lately. Over that a trace of vanilla body spray and other scented lotions, all pointing towards the likely hood that this was indeed a girl's room. From a little way off he caught a trace of blood mixed in with the other dirty clothes in the hamper. It fit with Casey's claim that it - whatever it was - had bled when the vigilante punched it.
He hesitated a moment before lowering the small night vision goggles over his eyes and flicking them on. The tiny amount of green light that came with their activation was a small risk but one he needed to take.
At first glance he could tell that the room was spartan, very little in the way of furniture or decoration. There was a dresser in the far corner, its surface relatively uncluttered. The built-in robe had both doors hanging open, displaying a meagre amount of clothing hanging above a few pairs of boots and shoes. His attention was grabbed by the single bed pushed up against the far wall. The shapeless lump there rose and fell minutely in time with the soft breaths he could just make out in the still room. His gaze locked there, narrowing thoughtfully. Robots needed to breathe about as much as they needed to sleep. Although, if this was a Kraang-bot spy, then it still needed to keep up the pretence of human traits for appearances sake. If it was human, well...His eyes shifted back to the hamper beside the door, a frown pulling at his brow when the scent, faint but unmistakable, continued to drift from the soiled linen.
He needed to get a closer look at what was under those covers.
His heartbeat rose again to thump in his ears as he crept towards the bed, surprising him with it's intensity. The one and only time he'd seen the Irma-bot that housed Kraang Sub-Prime he'd been fighting for his life mere seconds later. Memories of that night ran through his mind, causing his breath to catch and palms to sweat.
Too late to turn back now.
He reached out one trembling hand towards the edge of the sheet and carefully, oh so carefully, peeled it back. A tumble of dark hair was revealed, followed by a round face with a snub nose. From beneath the covers came the warm scent of skin and body heat. The girl let out a small huff in her sleep and he felt his eye ridge rise in surprise when he saw a line of drool emerging from the side of her mouth. Her eyes fluttered. The hand beneath her bruised cheek twitched. She was stirring.
He dropped the sheet and snatched his hand back hurriedly. Human, definitely human. There was no need for any of the other gadgets he'd brought along to gather evidence, he was convinced. This girl, whoever she was, she was the real deal.
Fourteen seconds later he was climbing back up the side of the building to reach his brothers, thoughts whirling and tumbling furiously over each other in his mind. Who was in that room? How did they get there and who was behind it? Were the Kraang attempting to re-insert a spy? Was this some kind of double bluff? What was their purpose?
By the time he reached the rooftop he had plenty of questions and no real theories, let alone answers. A hand reached down and he grasped it, allowing his brother to tug him up over the lip. Three sets of eyes fixed on him, waiting for his report. He glanced between them then shot a look over his shoulder, back the way he'd come. A frown pinched his brow.
"Guys, we have a problem."
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