PLAYLIST

The straight path of I-91 cut through the countryside of western Massachusetts and Connecticut, carrying the Battle Shell over greying fields and through vibrant forests on our route southward. A few weeks had passed by since we'd came out of the woods, so the last green and pale yellow leaves had already turned to red or brown. We'd hid out at the farmhouse, having Casey and April turn over Karai to the FBI when our message got heard. Now, her trial was fully underway, and the four of us had been called in as witnesses, signaling our first return to the city since we'd been chased out.

"The day I am gone, and the day that I leave, I'll never regret one minute of life." The speakers boomed, heavy reggae bass shaking the floor in time with Mikey's head nods from the passenger seat. "I've learned from the joy, I've learned from the tears. I've walked through the dark, now I see a light."

"The hell have you been playing summer music for?" Raph grumbled from beside me. "It's like fifty degrees out, Mike."

"Summer is a mentality, dude." He smiled tranquilly from the passenger seat. "Comes from within."

"The city's a mentality, bro. One we haven't tuned into in months." He snatched the iPod from Mike's hands, against his whining protests. "Tell me you ain't missed it." His thumb perused the touchscreen, before pounding down once he found his target.

"Why you always all on my back? Why you gotta do me like that?" The rapper's voice crooned over the marching piano beat. "Why you gotta act like a bitch when I'm with you? Baby girl, I'm blue." Raph mouthed along to the verse, familiar with every twist of the tongue and local Queens slang, before Mike stole the iPod back, sticking his tongue out as he tried to flip through the songs. This elicited a swift kick to the back of the seat from Raph, the headrest whiplashing forward into Mike's neck.

"Easy on the interior!" Don shrieked from the driver's seat. "Since you two clearly can't be trusted with DJ responsibilities, I'll be taking that." He yanked the music cord from Mike and, one eye taken off the road, scrolled through the selections until striking what he was looking for. The drone of a Seventies-era synthesizer laid down a bass line, ushering in a funky drumbeat and the whine of a guitar dripping with wah-pedal effects.

"Donnie…is this the background music to a porno?" Mike asked with genuine conviction. "'Cause I'm picking up some heavy Ron Jeremy vibes right now."

"I'll have you know, in addition to pioneering the funk genre while maintaining the jazz status quo, Herbie Hancock is a student of Japanese Buddhism. I think...'adult film soundtracks' are a bit below him." Don defended.

"Just cause he's a Buddhist don't mean his music ain't boring." Raphael grabbed for the iPod. "How long does this go on for? Fifteen minutes?"

"From 7:45 to 13:15 it's mostly electric piano solo. Just let it play until then?"

"Seven minutes is long enough for my brains to melt out my ears." Mike groaned, trying to nab the device from Raph's hands. "Haven't you heard all musical classics run for five minutes or less? And usually have some lyrics?"

"This sounds kinda familiar, actually. Did John Hancock or whoever steal the beat from Kool G Rap?" Raph noted. That set Don off on a tangent on the dishonesty of hip-hop sampling, which only egged Raph on to play the most aggressive rap songs he could think of, provoking Mike to find more laid-back reggae in an attempt to calm them down.

"Enough!" I barked, and the van went silent. The iPod clattered to the floor, and I stretched forward to pull the cord back onto my lap as I thumbed through the selection. Finally, my eyes met the white and tie-dye of a familiar album, and the seductive Spanish-sounding guitar riff opened through the speakers as the drums entered the loop.

"Japanese producer, East Coast rapper, autumn vibe. Now, everyone shut up and enjoy it." I ordered.

"Crush coal to a diamond, eyes forever shinin', your beauty alone inspire a nigga to rhymin'." The MC crooned, as the beat relaxed into almost elevator music-quality peacefulness. "Thinking of the better things in life, thinking of how I could persuade you to become my wife, hand in hand, as we floating over tropical sands…"

"This is some soft shit." Raph grumbled.

"Not as soft as those few weeks you were a Miguel and The Weeknd buff, Leo." Mike erupted with laughter. "Dancing in the mirror like a high school girl and stuff." I could feel my cheeks glow with heat.

"You mark my words, when it's fifty years in the future and all the kids are bumping music just like them, you'll regret not getting on this new R&B train earlier." I snorted.

"Damn, ol' Fearless is turning into a bigger music snob than the Donster now." Raph cackled.

"For your information, I actually like this song." Don objected. "So keep it down and let me focus on the road for once."

"Sorry, D." Mike pouted. My song choice was cut short by the buzzing of a ringtone, and I slid a finger on the screen to answer the call.

"Casey?" I called out to the speakerphone.

"Sup, dude." His voice boomed over the speakerphone. "We forgot to tell you the alarm code to the apartment when we gave you the key."

"Hasn't stopped us from sneaking in before." Raph shouted.

"Well, just in case the alarm goes off and you get more paparazzi after you than you will already, the code is…uh…" His mouth left the phone, as he asked, "Hey babe, what's the alarm code again?"

"It's our anniversary, remember?" April murmured in the distance.

"Oh…uh…the code is…" he stammered into the phone. "Babe, I know you're gonna hate me for this but…" He was cut off by a sudden thwack, and the phone rustled as it changed hands.

"Code's 0823, boys." April answered.

"Thanks, Ape." I said.

"Tell Casey to put some ice on that!" Mike giggled. "Sounded pretty rough!"

"Have a safe drive, guys. And remember to let us know how the trial goes."

"You got it, April. Take care, alright?" I clicked the red circle to hang up, and seamlessly, the song faded back in.

"Me, sleeping next to you, resting. You're the personification of all God's blessings, coming to me in just one physical being, one physical dream that I wanna redeem." My eyes drifted out the window, where the blaze of forest colors tapered out into the urban edge of Hartford. That marked our journey out of the wilderness, back into the human world.


Sorry for the hiatus!

Thought a good break from all the action would be by humanizing the Turtles a bit, seeing how they behave like the twenty-somethings they are when they aren't in battle or distress.

For the interested, Mike's song choice is "Open My Eyes" by Soldiers of Jah Army, Raph's is "Baby Blue" by Action Bronson and Chance the Rapper, Don's is "Chameleon" by Herbie Hancock, and Leo's is "Lady Brown" by Nujabes and Cise Starr. All some of my favorite songs, each one representative of each of the brothers in their style and attitude.

Also, bit of a subtle thing, but the lines in Russ' journal last chapter are shamelessly lifted from Allen Stone's "Barbwire". Great enough musician that I figured he deserved the footnote :)

Thanks for reading!