Hello everyone!

First off, I wanted to thank you all for all the support you've shown this story and me! I really appreciate it, and I'm glad so many of you like this story so far! So without further ado, here's the next chapter! It takes place over a three week time period, going into June of 2016, and features small stories or 'snippets' [or one-shots, I suppose] of Roberto's experiences with the mutants and his family. Kinda something different, having smaller stories in one chapter, but I hope you all like it!

Especially since the last story isn't told by Roberto... :D

Tales From the Errand Boy

Even though I had come up with the idea of tricking my dad with a fake document, I was not completely certain that it would actually work.

I spent most of my Monday study hall working on the document, even going onto the high school's website to get a picture of their official logo to add to the page. It was kind of funny; everyone else was stressing out over finals, wanting to be done with school, and I was coming up with a fake piece of paper saying I needed more school. I wrote the whole thing in English, like most school documents were, and while my dad usually scanned most of the things I brought home from school, I could not help but wonder if he would read all the way through this one when I handed it to him later that afternoon. Was everything spelled correctly? Did it sound like the school and not me? I braced myself for the worst as he read the whole thing before looking up at me with a hard expression.

"How could you let this happen," he demanded, glaring at me "Summer school?! How are you supposed to work?!"

"I-I know, Papá," I said, my actual fear of getting caught lying coming off as fear of getting into trouble. "I d-don't know w-what hap-"

"Your grades weren't that bad, I thought," he interrupted. "How could you be so irresponsible?! Do you not care about this business or how your academics reflect on me? What about your brother and sisters and the rest of the family, who work hard to keep this restaurant running?"

"I'm sorry," I said, looking down at the ground, hoping that my expression didn't give away the lie. Though I wondered when he even cared about my grades; this was the guy who didn't want me to go to college because I had an 'obligation' to help the family business. "But I… I c-can't get out of t-this; it says I have t-to go to classes every weekday this summer-"

My dad sighed, letting out a frustrated huff and a few curse words as he took a pen from his shirt pocket.

"Such a disappointment," he muttered, signing his name at the bottom of the sheet[since I figured the school would ask for proof that he had read the page]. "Fine. I suppose your cousin Eduardo could take over your delivery duties during the lunch shift. But I expect you to be able to work in the evenings." He looked up at me. "Or are you so stupid that you have to take night classes too?"

"I'll still be here in the evenings," I replied, nodding quickly as his words stung at my heart. "I'm sorry, Papá-"

"Just go," he ordered, handing the piece of paper back to me and shooing me from his office. "I'm busy." I took the sheet, quickly leaving the small room before I accidentally gave anything away.

Thank God that's over, I thought, practically running up the stairs to our apartment. My heart was racing like crazy, and I immediately went into my room, taking a few minutes to calm myself down. Finally, I took the burner phone out of my pocket, sending a quick message to Bebop. I had no idea what the future held for me, but in two little words, I had effectively sealed my fate:

It's done.

[][][]

One afternoon, I was watching clothes swirl around in the laundromat dryers, softly tapping my foot as I listened to the 2013 Broadway Cast recording of Pippin. I had bought a new pair of headphones a few days ago with the money I had made helping the two mutant thugs the week before; it was not the fanciest or the most expensive pair, but it was nicer than my old pair, and the music quality was superb. Next to me sat several large bags filled with clean laundry, and the batch currently spinning in the nearby machine was the last back of the day.

I had no idea how often Bebop and Rocksteady washed their clothes, but given how smelly and stained they were, it must have been every few months [or maybe every few years]. And there was so much laundry I had to wash; they had given me four 32 gallon-sized trash bags, each filled with dirty laundry, and it had taken me an hour alone to sort through them all before I washed them. While I knew how to do laundry, I still had to google how to get rid of blood stains [something I never thought I'd have to do], and I was lucky I had the proper detergents and soaps to do so. The two mutants had given me enough cleaning supplies to last my family a year, probably wanting to make sure I'd have everything I needed for their clothes. Fortunately, there were not too many people at the laundromat that day, so I didn't have to worry about strange and questioning looks as I scrubbed a particularly large blood stain out of a shirt.

As I watched Bebop's pants tumble around in the dryer, I wondered if I had simply traded away one tiring job for another. I had spent all day inside this laundromat, and it was not exactly how I wanted to spend my summer vacation; I just hoped that not all of my time helping the mutants would be devoted to menial tasks like this. I didn't mind bringing food for them, since Rocksteady usually shared some with me and let me join them in whatever movie they were gonna watch that evening, and sure, I was actually getting paid to help them out. But after sorting through a mountain of dirty socks [wishing I had a hazmat suit the whole time], I was starting to think that fifty a week was not enough, given how much they were making me do this afternoon alone. And back at the restaurant, I got to walk around making deliveries instead of sitting inside all day. Not to mention the chances of me getting beaten up were slim to none back at La Libertad.

"Finally," I muttered, getting up as the dryer stopped spinning, pausing my music and putting the now clean clothes in one of the bags. The mutants had given me an extra set of trash bags to put the clean clothes in, and as soon as I tied up the last bag, I flumped back into my seat and took out the burner phone.

The laundry's finished, I texted Bebop, just wanting to get out of this cramped building filled with the sound of whirring machines. About a minute or two later, the mutant replied:

Did ya clean everythin'?

"No," I muttered sarcastically. "I spent the last six or so hours sitting here doing nothing."

Yes, I texted back.

Use all the detergent, he asked.

There's a bottle or two left.

Use the softener like I told ya to?

My own family didn't use softener, so why these two thugs needed it was beyond me. Yes.

Rocksteady'll be there in a bit, the mutant informed me.

How long until he gets here, I asked, frowning at the burner phone.

When he gets there, you'll know.

"Yay for me," I muttered, sighing and leaning back in my seat. I had no idea how long the mutant rhino would take, but it was easy to guess that it would be a while. But at least it was Rocksteady that was picking me up; I was too tired to deal with Bebop's surliness, and the rhino was definitely the friendlier of the two mutants. So I resumed my music, and it wasn't until I got close to the end of the soundtrack that I got the text from Rocksteady to bring the laundry to the back alley.

"Thanks, Roberto," the mutant rhino said with a grin, opening the back of the van and helping me put the bags of clothes inside. "Neither of us felt like doin' laundry, since it usually takes forever!"

"Yeah, I figured that out myself," I replied shortly, climbing into the passenger's seat, worn out from a day of washing dirty clothes. "I'd suggest washing your clothes once a month instead of once a year, that way you'd have less clothes to wash at one time."

"Oh… That makes sense," the thug replied, shutting the back doors and climbing into the driver's seat. "I'll oughta remember that next time we have ya go to the laundromat." He started the engine. "So, what kinda food would ya like?"

"What," I asked, turning to him with a confused expression.

"To eat. You've been washin' clothes all day, and I'm kinda hungry, so I thought we'd get somethin' on the way back." He pulled the van towards the street. "Whaddaya want? Burgers? Tacos? Sandwiches?"

I was too stunned to answer right away, not expecting the mutant to offer to get my something to eat. Despite being nicer than his friend, Rocksteady was still a criminal, and a pretty intimidating guy. While he usually spoke in a friendly manner with me, his occasional stories of all the people he had beaten up, as well as his bragging about how many cars he had crushed for fun in junk yards, reminded me that I was dealing with a dangerous individual. I tried to push these thoughts aside, since he was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to reply.

"I... wouldn't mind some food," I finally said. "Puerto Rican food's great, but it gets old, eating it every day." I frowned a little. "But it's still daytime. What about your... I mean." I gestured to his snout.

"Oh... forgot about that," the mutant rhino said, his brow furrowed with concentration. "Well... ya can go in somewhere and get food for us. There's a burger place not far from here that Bebop and I go to some nights: Carl's. He makes the best burgers in all of New York!"

"Sounds good to me," I said, my earlier fatigue and irritation vanishing with the promise of food that wasn't from the family restaurant. The thug brightened up at my answer, grinning as he took the next turn at the light. "Wait, you said you and Bebop go there sometimes. Do they know about you and Bebop being mutants?"

"Yeah; we usually go at night, when it's mostly empty, but ya can go in there for us. Just tell Carl to get me my usual order, and get whatever you want." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled wad of cash bills and handing them to me. "And get one of the milkshakes too; they're the best!"

"Thanks," I said, shocked to see that he had given me nearly forty dollars, and told me I could get whatever I wanted. I was not used to being told I could get whatever I wanted; on the rare occasion my family did go out to eat, my dad ordered for everyone [except for Arturo, of course], and luxuries like soda and dessert were strictly forbidden. Thinking about this, I frowned, struggling to wrap my head around a nagging question in the back of my mind.

"Can I... ask you something," I tentatively asked the mutant rhino a few minutes later, still a little wary; Bebop didn't like it whenever I asked him questions, and I was uncertain if Rocksteady was the same.

"Go for it," the criminal replied.

"Uh... It's just..." I looked down at the cash in my hands. "Are you trying to get me to like you?"

Rocksteady frowned a little, a confused expression on his face.

"Whaddaya mean," he asked.

"Giving me money to buy food for the two of us, and saying I can get whatever I want... I'm just not used to anyone saying-" I swallowed the lump in my throat, not finishing that thought. "I know you said weeks ago that you wanted to be on friendlier terms with me, but... this is too much. You don't have to go above and beyond to try and befriend me." I set aside one of the ten dollar bills. "I'll get whatever you want to eat, but I'm fine with a water and basic burger."

The hulking mutant was silent for a few minutes, and I could almost see the gears turning inside his brain, thinking over what I had said. I had gotten the impression from him early on that he was not the brightest individual, and right now, he seemed to be using all of his brain power to figure out the meaning behind what I had just told him. I turned away to look out my passenger-side window, figuring that he would take a while before saying anything. If he even said anything at all.

"I'm... sorry, I guess," Rocksteady finally said, and I looked over at him with surprise, not expecting an apology from him. "I just... figured you'd be hungry or somethin'." He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Maybe we oughta just go back to the warehouse; Bebop's probably waitin' for us."

Okay... Not expecting that apology, I thought, watching the rhino thug take the next turn, a disappointed expression on his face. And is he seriously upset about not getting a burger? He has the ability and free will to get whatever he wants, even without paying. I wondered if the mutant duo actually paid this Carl person for food, or if they simply threatened him for free food. Even if they did pay him, I started to wonder where they were getting this money from [though I could have sworn I once heard Bebop mention 'hittin' up an ATM' a few days earlier]. I looked out my window again, and then back at the criminal in the driver's seat. He had a downcast look on his face, clearly longing for the best burgers in New York City; this was confirmed when his stomach gave a loud grumble moments later. Maybe I was too harsh on him? Maybe I-

Suddenly, my stomach gave a loud grumble, which quickly cut off my train of thought as I froze in my seat. My stomach had grumbled in the past when I was hungry, but this sounded like a fog horn, and for some reason, I felt my cheeks redden with humiliation. Even thought it was just the mutant in the car besides myself, a wave of embarrassment washed over me, and in that moment, I wish I had just stayed back at the laundromat. However, my humiliation was interrupted as suddenly, the thug started to chuckle.

It was a low, almost subdued sound, and if I hadn't seen the mutant's mouth movie, I wouldn't have believed. However, it soon grew louder, and the next thing I knew, Rocksteady was guffawing and laughing as he drove, a wide smile on his face. While I usually found people laughing at bodily noises immature, for some reason, a smile tugged at my own lips, and I had to put a hand over my mouth a few seconds later to stifle the laugh that slipped out of my mouth.

"Heh, guess we're both really hungry," Rocksteady said a few moments later, having calmed down, but still with a grin on his face.

"Yeah," I said, lowering my hand. "And you know... I haven't had a good burger in a long time." Stopping at the stop sign, the mutant criminal looked at me with surprise, and I smiled. "So you better be right about Carl's having the best burgers in the city!"

A wide grin came over the rhino's face, and he turned back to the front, now driving with an air of excitement, like a child who had been promised ice cream.

"Trust me," he said, "ya won't be disappointed! I always eat, like, ten burgers every time we go there! And the fries are great! As are the onion rings, and the milkshakes... everything's good there!"

"Ten," I repeated, an incredulous expression on my face. "Man, you like to eat a lot, don't you?"

The mutant thug suddenly slammed his foot on the brakes, and the impact of my seatbelt sending me back into my seat made me cry out in pain. There were a few angry honks from the cars behind us, and I turned to find the rhino glaring at me, all traces of congeniality gone. I suddenly felt trapped in the passenger's seat, and I also remembered the mutant's boasts of tearing up old cars like paper in his free time.

...Shit, I thought.

"Whaddya mean I eat a lot," he demanded, one of his hands clenching into a fist, his nostrils flaring; I could have sworn I saw steam hissing out of them. "Ya callin' me fat?!" There were a few more honks behind us, but the rhino criminal's attention was focused solely on me as he waited for an answer.

"I-I-I," I stammered, my brain racing to figure a way out of this situation before I was turned into a Roberto pancake. "I j-just meant t-that, uh… I w-wasn't calling y-you... I just..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, pleading to God to let me be spared. "I m-meant that you're s-strong and... and... I w-wasn't trying t-to insult you."

I started to regret my decision to work for the mutants; both of them were criminals, and had hurt me before [even though it was technically at my request]. What had I been thinking?! Right now, the rhino's stories of sending punks to the hospital were fresh in my mind, and I braced myself for the first punch. The mutant's eyes were narrowed in suspicion at me, and he regarded me for a few more moments before he finally spoke.

"Hmm… Okay!"

The rhino criminal's face suddenly brightened, as if he had never been upset, and he turned back to the road and started to drive again.

After getting over my shock at the sudden turn-around, I let out a small sigh of relief, feeling like I had dodged a major bullet. I made a mental note to never talk about anything weight-related around the mutant from now on. Still, it wasn't until we parked in the alleyway behind the restaurant that I finally relaxed, quickly getting out of the car to get the food. Carl, a middle-aged man with greying hair and crinkles on his face from smiling, seemed surprised when I mentioned Rocksteady's name, but he rang up the order and fifteen minutes later, I was out of there with eleven burgers, two large fries, and two large milkshakes [after my brush with death, I decided to go for the milkshake].

"Thanks," Rocksteady said as I got back in the car, eagerly reaching for the bag. "Seriously, you're gonna love these!"

"Okay," I said, still wary of the mutant thug as he took a bite of his first burger. By the time I undid the wrapper around my own burger, the rhino was already eating his third, practically inhaling them. I decided to not look at him, still a little frightened as I focused on my own meal.

"Well," Rocksteady asked expectedly after I took my first bite of the burger. "Are those great or what?"

"It's... It's really good," I said truthfully, and it was. Most burgers I ate was in the school cafeteria, and that had been a sad, thin piece of meat between two smushed buns. This was a real burger, with a thick, juicy patty, a melted slice of cheese, fresh vegetables, and a toasted bun. And given how cheap the whole order had been, I was surprised that the food quality was so good. I quickly ate the rest of the burger, as well as the fries, washing it down with my milkshake, glad that I was eating something besides my family's food for once. Afterwards, I sat back in my seat, waiting for Rocksteady to finish his food. For a while, I debated if I should say something or not, but finally, I couldn't take it any longer.

"Uh... Rocksteady," I spoke up when the mutant thug took a break from eating to take a large sip of his milkshake. "I... Thanks for the burger. And... I'm sorry... for earlier." I crumpled up my burger wrapper, not looking at the rhino criminal. There was no reply from the mutant, but I heard him pause mid-sip, and I could feel him turn to look at me. I had no idea if he would berate me, say nothing, or toss me through the windshield, but frankly, I had resigned myself to whatever would happen. It had been a long day, and I was just ready for it to be over with.

"... I'm sorry."

I looked up with surprise, shocked when I saw a sincere look on his face. He looked guilty and... was he actually sorry for getting angry at me earlier? I wasn't expecting him to actually apologize to me, and the fact that he looked and sounded genuine threw me off guard. It reminded me of the conversation we had had in the alleyway weeks ago, and I once again wondered if the criminal actually wanted to befriend me.

"I... Shouldn't have freaked out like that," the mutant continued, setting his milkshake aside. "I've... my weight's kinda a sore subject with me, but ya didn't know that, so I probably shouldn't have flipped." He looked away. "I don't blame ya if you're scared of me again; I always screw up stuff like this. I promise I'll never snap at ya like that again."

I took in the thug's words, as well as his expression. It had been a long time since anyone in my family had sincerely apologized to me for anything, and while he seemed sincere, I wasn't sure at first if this was just an excuse for me to not run off, causing him to lose his and his friend's errand boy. However, something inside me, call it a gut feeling, made me believe him. I nodded.

"Okay... You're forgiven," I said.

Now it was Rocksteady's turn to look up at me with surprise.

"Ya... forgive me," he asked.

"Of course," I replied. "You're supposed to forgive people, so there's no tension and animosity between you and them."

"Anni- Anni-what?"

"Animosity. You know, ill-feelings? Anger? Holding a grudge?"

"I ain't ever done that before," the mutant said. "Usually, Bebop and I just move on after a fight; we don't really apologize, neither."

"Well... thanks for apologizing to me," I said.

"No problem." He seemed to remember something. "And... I forgive ya too, since ya apologized earlier."

I nodded, taking a sip of my milkshake, which tasted like heaven.

"This really is good," I admitted.

"I told ya," Rocksteady said, grinning and taking a sip of his own milkshake. "The strawberry's good too!"

"I oughta try it next time," I said, taking the leftover change from my pocket and holding it out to him. "Here's the change, by the way."

The thug shook his head, refusing to take it.

"Nah, keep it," he said. "Extra thanks for doin' our laundry."

I grinned. "Thanks."

And sure, while I wouldn't consider Rocksteady my best friend anytime soon, I felt that he was no longer a complete stranger. Besides, if the mutant had a taste for good food that wasn't from my family's restaurant, then I would be an idiot to not join him.

[][][]

"Okay," I said one evening, setting the bags of takeout on a fold up table in the mutants' home. "We've got pastelón, mofongo, albondigón, and, since you requested a surprise dessert, I went with Jibaritos Fritos!" I took out one of the takeout boxes and gave it to Rocksteady. "Baby bananas covered in a batter of egg, flour, milk, coconut flakes, vanilla, cinnamon and sugar, and then deep fried!"

"Bananas ain't a dessert," Bebop said, lounging on one of the couches as his friend opened the takeout box and popped one of the desserts into his mouth.

"Mmm… A lot crunchier than I thought they'd be," the mutant rhino said, grinning with bits of banana in his teeth. "Still good, though!"

"So, what did you need me for tonight," I asked Bebop. "Your text said it was urgent?"

"We need ya to pick up some movies for us," the warthog thug said, sitting up in his seat. "There's a video store not far from here, so walk over there and get us a couple movies."

"Movie night," I asked, frowning a little. "Since when was that an urgent emergency?"

"Screw ya," Bebop snapped, pointing a warning finger at me. "Would ya rather us look for entertainment in other places?" He reached in-between the worn couch cushions and took out his baseball bat. "I haven't beat up anyone since last Tuesday, and Ol' Slugger here's itchin' for some blood!" He chuckled at my frightened expression. "Any volunteers?"

"F-Fine," I said quickly, holding up my hands. "Movie night. No problem."

"Good. You're gonna go to Uptown Rentals for us, get us a couple movies and popcorn. Also, you're gonna need to pay for a membership, which is about ten dollars."

"A membership? Like Blockbuster?" There used to be a Blockbuster a few streets away from my apartment, but it had gone out of business with the rest of them years ago.

The mutant thug rolled his eyes behind his glasses. "Duh! Now stop askin' stupid questions!"

"Fine," I conceded. "What movies do you guys want?"

"Ooh! Can we get Terminator again," Rocksteady asked, grabbing two takeout boxes and walking over to his friend, handing him his dinner. "Or The Godfather?"

"I don't think I can check those out," I replied. "Those are R-rated, and I'm only sixteen."

"Don't worry," the rhino assured me. "We know the guy who runs it, Darryl, from when we was human; he don't mind checkin' out 'R' movies to teens. You'll be fine."

"Wait, if you know this guy, why can't you get the movies yourselves," I asked. "It's nighttime, so there's less of a chance of anyone seeing you."

"We don't trust Darryl," Bebop spoke up.

"And you trust Loco Luis," I countered.

"More than we trust ya," he retorted, pointing his bat at me. "Again, we could always cancel movie night and-"

"I'll get the movies," I said quickly, frowning at him. "So The Godfather and Terminator?"

"No, we watch those all the time," the mutant warthog replied, shaking his head and setting his baseball bat aside. "Get Poltergeist, and-"

"No horror," the rhino thug stated, shaking his head.

"Dude, it ain't that scary," the warthog retorted.

"I don't care! Choose somethin' else!"

"Uugh," Bebop groaned, snorting indignantly. "You're such a baby!"

"No I'm not," the other thug replied, frowning at him. "You're the baby! Ya got us Space Jam last time!"

I quickly covered a snicker, and the warthog whirled around.

"I'll bust that fuckin' mouth of yours wide open, punk," he warned me.

"Besides, we always go with your picks," Rocksteady continued. "I wanna choose this time!"

"I don't choose every time," Bebop retorted.

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

They're literally giant children, I thought, yelping and quickly backing up at Rocksteady suddenly swung at Bebop. The next thing I knew, they had landed on and smashed the coffee table, yelling and punching one another. The warthog's sunglasses flew off and I picked them up, seeing that one of the lens had a crack down the middle. I noticed that neither of them used weapons on each other, and I was relieved, though I still kept my back against the wall as the two continued to fight.

"Michael Jordan's an okay actor," Bebop yelled, punching his friend in the snout.

"No he ain't," Rocksteady argued, grabbing him in a headlock and holding him there. "Now say 'Uncle!'"

"I will not!"

"SAY IT!"

"NO!"

"This is gonna take a while," I muttered, putting on my headphones to listen to show showtunes.

[][][]

Bebop and Rocksteady didn't need me every day of the week, but since I was supposed to be in summer school classes Monday through Friday, I still left the family restaurant with my backpack to supposedly go to class. I walked towards the high school, waited behind it for maybe half an hour, then walked to the nearby subway stop and took a train downtown.

With the money I was making from helping the mutants, I was able to finally explore this city I had lived in all my life. I was able to buy food from wherever I wanted, and even a greasy street vendor hot dog tasted like heaven as I looked up at the bright lights and sounds of Time's Square, surrounded by a noise that was not shouted meal orders or domestic arguments. Once I went to the Natural History Museum, wandering the halls for hours as I travelled through thousands of years of history. I had been to a museum on a school trip when I was nine, but it had been a rather rushed visit, the tour guide dragging us through the museum in less than an hour. A few times I went to Broadway, walking past the theatres with their lit signs, watching people buy tickets for Mamma Mia, West Side Story, Wicked, and other shows. While I now had money, I didn't have enough to buy a ticket, and most shows were in the afternoons and evenings anyway; I was supposed to be home by four to start prepping for the dinner service.

Most of the time, however, I went to Central Park, walking down the paths as sunlight filtered through nearby trees. It amazed me that in the middle of this bustling metropolis, nature had taken root and thrived. Sure, there was litter everywhere, and I once saw a squirrel attack a dog with the ferocity of a lion, but it was still better than concrete and brick. I usually brought some books with me, and I sat under trees and read, or sometimes listened to music. Sometimes, I simply sat there and stared out at families having a picnic, college students tossing a frisbee, and a couple walking together, holding hands. Everyone seemed so happy, and for a few hours, I felt happy too.

I loved this time to myself. No orders from my father or Bebop, no nasty comments from Arturo, no complaints or jeering from the twins. Just me and my thoughts, and the knowledge that I could go anywhere in the city if I wanted to. Most of my family worked inside of the Washington Heights area, and the odds of me running into someone in this area of the city were slim to none. I was still careful as I left and returned to the neighborhood, but on these free days with no restaurant deliveries or errands for mutant criminals, I had no thoughts of anyone but myself.

[][][]

Bebop, I quickly learned, was a very impatient individual. And he also seemed to assume that I would automatically be able to do whatever job or menial task he asked me to.

"Here," he said unceremoniously, dumping a large burlap bag on the fold-up table. As for me, it was nine in the morning, and having woken up at five to help prep food before going to 'school,' I was still trying my best not to fall asleep again [the mutant had roughly nudged me awake after I had fallen asleep during the ride over]. "Clean and polish 'em."

"Clean what," I asked, reaching into the bag and feeling something hard and metal. After tracing my finger over the unknown object, I realized what it was and quickly pulled my hand out of the bag. "DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?!"

"Geez, kid," the warthog snapped, glaring at me from behind his signature sunglasses [seriously, did he sleep in those things?!]. He had turned on one of the nearby TVs, but walked back over to the table. "The fuck are ya freakin' out about?!"

"T-T-Those are," I stammered, pointing at the bag and taking several steps away from it. "T-T-Those are g-g-g-"

"Guns," the thug finished, walking over to the table and dumping the contents of the sack onto the table. At least six guns of various sizes and types clattered on the table, and I yelped as one of them accidentally spun around to face me. "They ain't gonna shoot ya on their own! They ain't even loaded! Wait-" He picked up one of the guns, unloading the ammunition clip and tossing it aside. "Now they're all unloaded."

"I can't clean guns," I protested.

"Why not," Bebop demanded, glaring at me. "You're gonna do whatever the hell I tell ya to do!"

"I'm not cleaning GUNS," I stated, glaring right back at him. "I don't even know how! I'd probably mess them up or something!"

The mutant groaned, running a hand through his mohawk and muttering ominous threats under his breath. I took a step back from him, ready to bolt in case he came after him. Bebop strode over to the table and put all the guns back in the sack, tossing it aside [I half expected one of the guns to go off, but fortunately none did].

"Fine," he snapped. "Ya can clean somethin' else, then!" He grabbed another burlap bag from beneath one of the couches [honestly, given how dirty this warehouse home of theirs was, I wasn't even shocked by this], and held it out to me. "Here."

"What's in there," I asked, eyeing the bag nervously.

"Knives. Should be more your speed."

"How is that more my speed?!"

"Ya work in a restaurant. They've got knives in restaurants."

"I don't work inside the restaurant! I do deliveries!"

"Fuckin' dammit, kid!"

"Roberto."

"Roberto, can't ya do anythin'?!" He dropped the bag of knives at my feet, walking back to one of the couches and kicking it angrily before sitting down. "Just wash 'em in warm water with dish detergent, use a towel to dry 'em off, and there's some WD-40 by the sink for any rust." He pointed somewhere behind him, and I saw an old, almost crumbling sink by the wall. "And be quiet!" He turned up the TV volume via remote control, and the sound of some action movie blasted from the speakers, cutting off any arguing I could have done.

Well... at least it isn't laundry, I thought, glaring at the back of the mutant's head before grabbing the bag and walking towards the sink. Taking a rusty machete out of the bag, I sighed. Youtube to the rescue, I guess.

[][][]

Sundays were the one day I insisted I get off from helping Bebop and Rocksteady. Mainly because it was a day of rest, and since there was no summer school or restaurant on that day, sneaking away to help the mutants would be close to impossible.

We went to mass at St. Xavier's at 10 AM, and always sat on the left side, five pews back from the front. Not in the very front, where the old ladies with their shawls sat, but not in the very back where it was hard to hear. Father José Maria was a good priest, and had the perfect homily length; not too short that we didn't get a good lesson on the readings, and not too long that our minds started to wander. Our entire extended family went to the same mass, so nearly half the church was filled with aunts, uncles, cousins, great aunts and uncles, second and third cousins... the list goes on and on. Afterwards, everyone gathered in the courtyard outside, talking with one another for nearly an hour before leaving for lunch. Us kids and teens would be back later in the evening for youth group and religious education classes.

Lunch was almost always held in our restaurant; it was the biggest place that could hold all of the family members, and the kitchen was able to handle the amount of food we needed to prepare. The aunts and grandmothers took over the kitchen on that day as children ran between the tables, where cousins and uncles faced off in games of dominos, or argued about everything from the economy to that week's weather. When the food came out, everyone came together, pushing tables together so everyone would be close. Then trays of food were brought out, set on the table, and conversation filled the air as hands reached for spoons, scooping meat and rice and other delicious food onto their plates. Fruit punch, soda, and other sweet drinks were also passed around, the clinking of ice in glasses dotting the din.

I had loved these Sunday lunches when I was younger, since I could just be a kid with no worries of school, work, and even my dad seemed like a kinder person back then. My mother always cooked Guisado, and it was arguably one of the best dishes of the meal. Now, with no mom, no happiness of youth, and a dad who seemed to resent my very existence, Sundays were no longer enjoyable. Though they still had one bright spot.

"Delicioso," Abue said, sitting up in her bed as she took a bite of Chicharrón de pollo. She could not leave her bed to come downstairs, so I always ate with her. However, I knew I would only have a few more minutes before I got called downstairs to help with the dishes. "Camilla has done a fabulous job today, though she could have used less seasoning."

"Maybe you shouldn't eat it," I suggested, setting my own plate aside and getting up from my chair. "Your doctor says too much sodium-"

"Ay," my grandmother said, shooing me away. "I'll be fine. These doctors aren't even curing me; just buying me time."

My face flushed with anger. "Don't say that! You're going to be fine!"

She noticed my expression. "Oh, I'm sorry, Roberto." She patted the space on the bed next to her, and I sat down. "I forget how much you care for others. Especially me."

"You're the only grandmother I have left," I said seriously, though I forgave her. "I want you to see me graduate high school before I become a permanent fixture in this place."

"You'll be fine," she insisted, taking my hand and squeezing it a little, a small smile on her face. "I believe you'll end up somewhere far from here someday."

"Not likely," I muttered.

"What's with that attitude," Abue asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You better not be sassing me! And you better not be doubting yourself! Just because you're in summer school does not mean you're not smart!"

I froze a little at that statement, guilt flooding through me. Lying to my family about where I went most days was bad enough, but lying to Abue... She was always honest [sometimes to a fault] with me, and for me to keep something this big from her felt wrong.

"I-I know," I said, nodding a little. "I'm sorry." I kissed her hand, and she smiled again, her warm expression seeming to make part of the guilt melt away.

"Anyway, this is still good," my grandmother continued, letting go of my hand and grabbing her bowl of food once more. Most of her meals were soft enough to barely chew, and not too big for her to choke on. Despite her insistence that she wouldn't choke, my family still made sure that her food was safe to eat. "Though if I do stay alive, it will be to see you get married."

"ABUE!"

"What? Your Mamá isn't here to make sure you find a nice girl, so now it's my job! Lord knows who you'd end up with if your father had any say in the matter."

I winced, imagining a stern-faced girl bossing me around for the rest of my life. "I'm fifteen; I'm too young to be thinking of marriage."

"I got married at seventeen," Abue reminded me.

"Yeah, but things were different back then." I smiled. "Everything was in black and white, and dinosaurs walked the Earth!"

"Roberto Alejandro Hernandez don't make me get out of this bed and smack you," my grandmother said, lifting her spoon threateningly.

"Ay! So sensitive," I said, and the two of us started to laugh, the noise filling the small bedroom. It was these moments that made me hope for a better life. Abue had grown up in a poor neighborhood in Puerto Rico, worked most of her life to provide for her family, and then risked it all by moving to America and helping her husband, my grandfather, open this restaurant. She had a dream and made it come true, and understood that I had a different dream from her and everyone else, and wanted me to succeed and achieve it.

"Roberto!" It was one of my aunts. "Come downstairs; everyone's cleaning up!"

I sighed, standing up. "I'll come back for your plate."

"Okay," she replied, accepting a kiss on the forehead. "Offer it up to Our Lord!"

"I will," I called back, taking my plate and leaving the room. And that's just what I did, praying and bracing myself before walking into the kitchen.

[][][]

Mikey POV:

"He's going for it, ladies and gentle-turtles," Mikey said, running towards the edge of the roof, leaping off it and flipping several times through the air. He landed on the rooftop of the next building, raising both hands in the air. "And he sticks the landing! The crowd goes wild!" He made small crowd noises, running a quick victory lap across the roof, stopping as his brother landed on the roof as well. "Any word from our judges?"

"How about ya focus more on patrol and less on your fancy tricks," Raph replied, frowning at his younger brother. "Be serious for once!"

"I am serious," the orange-masked turtle insisted, following his brother as they leaped onto the next rooftop, searching for any signs of patrol. "Totally serious face. See?" He put a straight face on, though it only lasted a few seconds as his goofy grin returned.

"Uugh," the red-masked turtle groaned, rolling his eyes and face-palming himself. "Should've gone with Donnie; I'd rather listen to some techo-babble than deal with you!"

"Hey!"

"And if ya tell Leo I made fun of you, I'll-"

"Not that! Look down there!"

Mikey had stopped on a rooftop, crouched down near the edge and pointing into the alleyway below. Raph quickly ducked down, moving next to him to see what he saw.

The two ninja turtles saw a nondescript van sitting in the alleyway below them. However, it was its occupants that interested them. Bebop and Rocksteady were there, with the rhino sitting in the open back of the vehicle with a small metal... Mikey couldn't tell what it was from where he was, but if it was with likes of these two, it couldn't be anything good. The brothers had not seen any sign of the mutant criminals since February, so the sudden sight of them was both surprising and concerning. Mikey and Raph exchanged a quick glance.

"I say we get 'em now," Raph whispered. "I take Hornhead and you take Oinkface."

"No," Mikey whispered back. "Leo said if we saw anything-"

"Forget about Leo," his older brother snapped, frowning at him. "We're here now, and if we wait for him and Donnie, they might get away!"

"I dunno," the orange-masked turtle said, turning to look back at the alley. "I still don't-"

His eyes widened, and he nudged his brother's shoulder to get his attention. Raph turned back to the alleyway, his eyes widening when he saw what is brother saw.

"Shit," he muttered, watching as a teenaged human walk into the alleyway towards them, a plastic grocery bag in each hand. Before they could react, he walked right up to the thugs, talking to them about something as he showed them the bags. There were no visible restraints or wounds on the boy, but the brothers knew that the two villains had a way of intimidating unwilling people into helping them.

"A hostage," Mikey whispered, wondering why Bebop and Rocksteady needed a kid, and what he was carrying in those bags.

"Doubt he's an ally," the red-masked turtle replied, reaching for his shell communicator and hitting the side button. "Leo? We got us a problem here."

YES! Mikey and Raph are here, meaning the other turtles won't be far behind! Looks like they think Bebop and Rocksteady have captured Roberto; imagine how they'll react when they learn that he's working with them!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please follow and favorite if you haven't done do, and feel free to leave a review with your thoughts on the chapter! Have a great weekend, you all!

-aggiefrogger

I do NOT own The Godfather, Terminator, Space Jam, Poltergeist, Mama Mia, West Side Story, Wicked, or Ninja Turtles at all.