Chapter 2
"Uhhggg…did you have ta come along??"
"Let's see…go up to the surface with my grumpy brother or get whacked repeatedly by Master Splinter's walking stick…" Mikey paused, putting a hand on his chin to give off the illusion of thinking, "I'd have to say…yeah, I had to come."
Raph sighed, "Alright, alright, you can stick with me, but let's get one thing straight," he said, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and lowering him just enough so that he could look down on the eight-year-old trapped in an eighteen-year-old's body, "You are not – under any circumstance – to embarrass me while we're out here. Got dat?"
"What entails embarrassment, Raph?" Mikey asked earnestly, hoping to get several easy ideas to log away for later.
Taken slightly aback by the question, the blood-red-masked turtle paused, "You know – anything that includes you being your usual obnoxious, over-bearing, idiotic self. All the stuff you do that makes me wonder whether we're really related."
"Ok, got it," Mike confirmed, nodding, "You can just call me Mr. Not-Embarrassing-You. Yup, that's me, Mr. Totally-Under-Control. Mr. Plain-And-Normal-Guy. Mr. Just-"
His words caught in his throat as Raph wrapped both hands around it, squeezing a little more than was really necessary. "Shut it or yer dead…"
The other turtle blinked blurrily, the lack of oxygen catching him by surprise, "Mr. Shut-It-Or-I'm-Dead. Got it. Now get off, please."
The hothead released his brother roughly, turning towards the open street at the end of the ally, "Just come on…"
"Okay," Mikey replied, some of his former cheer returning. Despite the number of times they had done it, heading up to the surface was always a bit like an adventure. One (well, at least Michaelangelo) couldn't help but feel just a tad excited.
Raph paused at the corner beneath the streetlamp, getting his bearings briefly before turning right, down a dimly lit street. Daring a glance back at his kid brother (whether there was any real (albeit small) difference in their ages remained to be seen, but 'kid' just fit as a descriptor for the now wide-eyed teen turtle), Raph wondered how well Mikey would take to his particular brand of nightly activities.
"So…like, where're we goin'?"
"You'll just have to see when we get there," Raph replied, and said nothing more until they had reached their destination. A flickering neon sign was the only indication that there was even anything alive in the grimy side street he had led them down, and he turned down the twisted concrete stairs leading to the basement level of the old building. He paused in front of the door and glared back at his brother, "Remember – any funny stuff and you ain't makin' it home in one piece."
"I love you too, bro," Mikey mocked, wrapping his arms around Raphael's neck.
"Get offa me!" Raph growled, shoving his brother away, "That's the kinda stuff I was talkin' about. I mean it – if you can't behave yerself, you can sit out here and just wait for me."
"Geez, can't you take a joke?" the orange-masked amphibian asked, chuckling, "Lighten up!"
Raph put a hand to his face, massaging his eyes in frustration, "Lemme put it to ya dis way, Mike," he said, "I got people in there who respect me – and I'd like to keep it that way if it's okay with you."
Mikey raised an eyebrow, "Alright, but just one question: what kind of place is this, anyway?"
"We'll just call it…my kinda place," Raph said, with a tiny smirk, as he pushed open the door.
The building was a bar, a seedy, smoke-filled joint that had a stench that Mikey was glad he couldn't identify. Several thugs lined the counter, each sipping slowly from tiny glasses filled with Who-Knows-What. There were circular tables throughout the area, though only about half of them were occupied. A dull, smoky haze seemed to hover in the air, a putrid mix of cigarette and cigar smoke, gray and bleak. Mikey carefully took a breath through his mouth, "Uh, Raph?"
"Yeah, what?" the other turtle asked calmly.
"This is…um…an interesting choice of location for a swingin' nightlife…"
"If ya don't like it, ya can always wait outside," Raph replied, sliding into a seat at the end of the bar.
There was a brief pause in the conversation, before Mikey spoke up again, "How long does it take to build up a smell like this?" he inquired, staring at the translucent cloud hanging above their heads.
"Longer that I been comin' here, alright?" Raph grunted, then nodded to the bartender as the burly man approached them, "The usual, Mac."
The inarticulate man merely grunted, reaching under the bar for a small shot glass. He looked over a Mikey and raised an eyebrow at Raph, "He wit 'choo?" the server asked, slurring his words together slightly from the cigarette clenched between his teeth.
"Yeah…" Raph muttered, swirling the contents of his glass once before swallowing it in one gulp, "Gimme another," he set the tiny container down on the counter before glancing over at Mikey, "You want one?"
"One what?" Mikey asked, looking at the now empty cup, unable to fully grasp the situation. His brother, his own flesh and blood, was putting…poisonous substances into his body on purpose? Why? A ninja needed every advantage he could get, and a clean bill of health was always a leg-up, even if just a small one.
"It's whiskey, Mike," Raph explained, temper nicely in check for the moment, as the barkeep refilled his shot glass, "It's not gonna kill ya."
"I beg to differ, bro," the orange-masked turtle said coolly, "Even I know that drugs can kill."
"I didn't ask for a lecture, and I didn't let you come along so you could tell me how ta live my life," Raph growled softly.
"Yeah, I realize that, but you didn't ask me not to lecture you on how the liver is an important organ," Mikey pointed out, not really trying to get under his brother's skin, but enjoying it anyway, "And you didn't specifically tell me not to come."
"Dat's it," Raph said, setting his glass down after swallowing his forth round, "We're outta here." He handed a few crumpled bills to the bartender, grabbed his brother forcefully by the arm and dragged him out into the open night air again. "Goddammit, Mikey – I can't take you anywhere."
"What?" he asked indignantly, "I didn't even do anything yet!"
"Look – I'm tellin' ya now, so you can't say I didn't tell ya later – butt out. What I do with my own time, with my own body, ain't none a' your concern."
"Yes, it is," the other turtle told him seriously, "You're my brother. What happens to you is important to me. I won't just stand by and let you make these kinds of mistakes!"
"Mistakes???" Raph thundered, his hairline-trigger temper now bordering on 'out-of-control', "Since when was makin' yerself feel better a mistake?"
"Funny, I always thought you were tough," Mikey chuckled, shaking his head, "Depending on chemicals to make you feel good? Man, what a joke!"
"I amuse you, do I?" Raph growled, seizing his brother by the collar and slamming him up against the nearest wall, "We'll see how amusing you think I am in a minute…"
Michaelangelo lashed out with one leg at his brother, aiming right between the legs. All manner of his previous light mood was gone, a serious expression plastered on his face. Normally, Raphael would hold the upper hand in a fight between the two, but "under the influence", Mikey was almost positive a confrontation would barely even be able to be called a fight.
Raph cringed and his grip loosened, allowing Mikey to touch the ground again. "Cheap shot…" he muttered hoarsely, "You'll pay fer that one…" His fist then flew towards his brother's face.
The blow stung, but not as badly as one that a sober Raph would have delivered. Mikey stumbled a step or two, then countered with punch of his own, thrusting forward his arm at his sibling's jaw.
As that hit connected, it knocked the first piece of Raph's disguise (his hat) to the street. Rubbing his jaw briefly, he looked at it. "Aww, fck it," he said, tossing his coat aside as well, "The stuff gets in the way anyway." Now moving a bit more freely, he made another lunge at Michaelangelo.
The second turtle dodged the would-be blow, moving out of the way and leaving only the brick wall behind him for his brother to connect with.
Raph's mind now slowed from the alcohol, he had no time with which to stop his crash course with the wall, which he hit roughly, and then staggered away from, the right side of his face scraped and raw. Twisting around to face his brother again, his sight slightly blurred, his head pounding, knowing he couldn't win in his current condition, but being too damn stubborn to concede. He pulled his sais out of his belt, breathing heavily, "For too long you been gettin' the better a' me…an' I'm fckin' sick of it…"
"Put 'em away, Raph," Mikey warned, fingering his own weapons of choice, "I'm pretty damn tired of your bullshit, so put 'em away and we can go home. We'll get something for yer face."
"Don't you baby me, dammit!!" the intoxicated one cried, and he rushed forward once more.
The orange-masked turtle sidestepped once more, putting two hands on his brother's shell as he passed and using Raph's own momentum to push him down onto the gravel of the alleyway.
Raph skid across the gravel and slowed to a stop, pounded the ground once with his fist and then, mixed with what Mikey could've sworn was a muffled sob, muttered, "Goddammit…"
"Raph…you ok?" Mikey asked, "I didn't wanna hurt you. It wasn't a fair fight, after all."
"No, Mike…no, I'm not okay…" Raph slowly sat up, his face and arms stinging from fresh scrapes, "Uhg…" he gripped his head with both hands, trying to will away the pounding that was growing slowly louder, "I haven't…been okay for a while…Kinda surprised none of ya noticed. I…I think Splinter caught me come staggering in one night…but I don't really remember…it's all blurry…" He hadn't wanted to say any of that; it had just sort of spilled out. And he was too dizzy to even bother taking it back.
Mikey scratched his forehead, "Well, we did notice that you were goin' out a lot more, but none of us figured you were doin' drugs. What's so bad about life now? I don't really think anything's changed in the last few years, so why start screwin' things up for yourself now? I thought as we got older things were going to get simpler!"
"It never gets simpler, Mikey…" Raph spat, "And quit sayin' I'm 'doin' drugs'…makes it sound bad."
"Gee…that might be because…uh, it is?"
"Yeah, so what?" he asked, brushing the bits of rock off his arms. The sitting still was helping his dizziness a bit. "Hittin' the bar a couple times a week ain't 'doin' drugs'. You catch me with a needle in my arm – then you can say I'm 'doin' drugs'. Until then…all I'm doin' is forgettin' myself for a while."
"Hate to break it to you, but alcohol is still considered a drug, bro," Mikey sighed, "Why do have to 'forget yourself'? You said that you aren't ok, so talk to me, dude! If you need an ear, you've got it right here."
"I…" Raph began, turning slowly to look at his brother, "I don't really wanna talk about it…" he said, feeling sweat on the back of his neck, "I don' even understand it yet…when I do I'll –" he stopped short, leaned away from Michaelangelo and vomited, " –let you know…" he finished weakly.
"Better figure it our soon," Mikey told him warningly, "Before it's too late."
"Sure…when I can think clearly at all…" Raph muttered, getting to his feet, "Let's get outta here."
"Lead the way," the other replied, cracking his neck back and forth.
Raph stumbled out into the main street, thankful that it was late enough to have dissipated any traffic. Why was Mike making him lead? He could barely see straight, let alone navigate. 'He prob'ly thinks he's doin' me a favor…' That was what he got for being such a wise-ass. Well that was just great. About two blocks down, he paused to retch again. When he straightened up again, he looked back at his brother. "So…havin' fun yet? Glad ya came along?"
"Time of my life, Raph, time of my life," Mikey said jokingly, following his unsteady, obviously ill kin.
"Glad ta…hear it…" Another three blocks down, he spoke up again, "You know damn well…that I ain't got a clue where I'm goin'. Why don't ya just go home an' leave me alone?"
"What?" Mikey said, truly flabbergasted, "You mean you don't know where we are either? But I was followin' you, because you led me to that place."
"Shit...you mean ya weren't just fckin' with me?"
"No…" the mutant replied gloomily.
Raph groaned loudly and slumped over against the nearest wall, "Now what?"
"Ummm…" Mike started pathetically, but was relieved of having to do any real thinking when there was a crash of breaking glass and an alarm sounded the next street over, "I guess we could check out whatever that was…"
"Sure, why not?" Raph shrugged, pushing himself back off the wall.
They hadn't gone far when a blur of a figure shot around the corner towards them. Not realizing there were obstacles now in the path, it came barreling straight into Mikey.
Having the advantage of a hard shell protecting his weak stomach flesh, Mikey was unphased by the collision, while the slight figure opposite him was knocked upon her fanny, "Hey," the turtle blinked, surprised, "What's the rush?"
The girl before him looked young, but not scared. She got to her feet hurriedly, clutching a stuffed duffle bag tightly. "Sorry, weirdo, I don't have time to chat," she quipped, eyes darting back from whence she had come, and then attempted to push past him.
Hearing the alarms from the distance and noticing the girl's peculiar behavior (shifty, nervous eyes and quick movements) allowed Mikey to put two and two together decently enough to come to the conclusion that something had gone afoul involving this youth. He grabbed her by the large collar of her jacket, putting a halt to what was a would-be escape, "I'm sure that those police dudes back there would love to chat about that bag of yours," the amphibian told her sternly, jerking his thumb in the direction of the commotion.
She clutched the bag even closer to her chest as she struggled against his grip. "Yeah? I think I'm gonna have to pass on that conversation," she said, kicking backwards with one workboot-clad foot, aiming for his kneecap.
Mikey grunted as he was hit but held his firm grip, "Any help here would be hot Raph," he called over to his brother, who was still resting against the alleyway wall.
"Right…" the less-oriented of the brothers nodded, coming up along side the girl and grabbing her by the arm, "Come on, kid, we don't wanna hafta hurtcha."
"Hurt me? Please, don't do me any favors, ok?" she snapped, taking the bag and swinging it hard, bashing him in the head with it.
"If you insist," Mikey said curtly, flattening out his hand and giving the young woman a karate chop in the neck, knocking her out.
She crumpled and Raph caught her with one arm, the other hand used in vain, trying to balance himself and her at the same time. "Nice work, Mike," he said, "Now whadda we do with 'er?"
A flash of headlights blinded them momentarily and then a familiar voice called out, "Hey guys – the cops are about ta pull around the corner. Wanna disappear?"
Mikey looked up to see Casey Jones (long-time ally and clear-cut nut-job) leaning on a hockey stick as if it were a walking stick at the other end of the alleyway, "Sounds about right," he half-shouted back, cupping one hand around his mouth, "Meet back at your place?"
"You guys need some cover or shall we just march our little parade off right now?" Casey said with a grin.
"Raph?"
"Cover we don't need," the inebriated mutant shook his head, "But help with this kid would be appreciated." He shifted the girl in his arms, nearly losing his balance in the process.
"Sure," said the tall, bluish-black haired human replied, jogging over quickly, "Gimme the little thief."
Raph handed her over and Casey scooped her up as the police sirens grew louder. "Great," Mikey said, "Now I suggest we book it before we're all stuck with a lotta question we don't wanna answer." Without hesitation, he wrapped one arm around his brother and the three of them vanished (albeit clumsily) into the darkness of the ally.
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