Title: Cat and Mouse
Author: Jayde
Rating: PG-13 for violence and language.
Summary: Angst, drama, violence. (Do I write anything else?) I have nothing against Law Enforcement professionals. They have a job to do. Sometimes human curiosity is a good thing, and sometimes it isn't.
Credits: Thanks to Sassy for the beta read.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything, except Samantha, her partner Eric, and her NY Cop friend Dan. And even them, I'm perfectly willing to share.
Chapter 2:
Everything is a little more annoying with a broken wrist. And it had to be her right wrist. Nothing else would do.
Samantha struggled gamely with the Styrofoam takeout container, slipping it awkwardly out of the bag and onto her small, wood kitchen table. She decided to splurge, and retrieved a real fork from the drawer, eschewing the plastic cutlery provided by the restaurant. One handed, she tugged the top up on the container, and settled into her chair. The smell of Pad Thai drifted up, and made her mouth water.
She was hungry, so someone had to knock on the door. Sam groaned, and clambered out of her chair. She stumbled, and hit her shoulder on the doorframe while passing into the living room. The broken wrist was throwing off her center of gravity.
Yanking open the front door, Sam found her neighbor standing outside.
"Hello, Samantha," Richard said, smiling mildly down at her. Samantha took a deep breath, and summoned a friendly tone of voice.
"Mr. Adams. What can I do for you?"
His head turned from side to side. "Italian?" He queried.
"Thai, Mr. Adams." It was a game they had played ever since Sam had moved in. Mr. Adams would stop by each evening that she was home, and he would try to guess what she was eating for dinner based on the smell. Sam leaned against the doorframe, and hoped her dinner wouldn't get cold. "Do you need to go for groceries this weekend?"
He nodded, his smile widening. "You're a good neighbor, Samantha. I'll see you on Saturday. Enjoy that Thai food." Richard turned away from the door, and trailed his fingertips along the wall as he headed back to his apartment.
Sam shook her head as she watched him re-enter his apartment. She shut her door gently, and returned to her meal.
-
A bottle of water flew through the air, and landed with a satisfying smack in Raphael's right hand.
"No beer?" Raph asked, his left eye ridge quirking up.
"You drank it all, you lush," Mike rejoined. A small smile played over his mouth, and then vanished at the sound of the argument that had started as soon as they reached the sewers.
Leo and Don entered the kitchen in mid-squabble. "This is something for the proper authorities to handle," Leo said in a tone that indicated he had said this many, many times before and was maybe tired of saying it again.
"How many more people are going to die while we sit by and watch," Don questioned. A sarcastic tone had crept in to their brother's normal calm. Don slammed a chair back from the table, and sat down. Mike held up a bottle of water, but Don shook his head.
"Don't you realize how suspicious it would look if the bomber just vanished? Poof, he's gone. No more trouble," Leo argued. He had moved to the opposite side of the table, and he had a death grip on the back of the chair there. "What, you think they'll give you a medal for eliminating the problem, Donnie?"
Don glowered across the scarred table at his brother. "Don't you dare patronize me, Leo."
Leo leaned forward over the chair, and tried to relax his hands a little. The wood was digging into his palms. Leo fought to regain a little bit of neutrality and calm. He wasn't used to having to defend himself to Don. It was Raph who questioned his authority, but Raph was staying out of this for some reason. He was on the sidelines with Mike, just observing.
Taking a deep breath, Leo tried again. "You tell me then, Don. Where's the line?"
Don opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it, his expression thoughtful.
"It's wherever we say it is," Raph offered, taking a large gulp of water. He met Leo's disgusted glance with a smirk.
"No, Leo's got a point," Don interjected. Leo suppressed a smile or any other outward sign of relief. Logic would always appeal to Don. "There is a line somewhere between what we should do and what we could do."
Leo sighed, and bent his head for a moment, releasing the tension in his neck. "I'm glad we've worked this out."
"I didn't say I agree with you," Don replied, dashing Leo's hopes. Leo raised his eyes, and they shared a look that indicated there was a distance greater than the table between them right now. "There is a line, but you are wrong in its location." Don stood up, and left the kitchen. Leo sighed, and spun the chair a round. He sat down, and rested his head on the back of the chair.
"Damn," Raph breathed. "Wish there was still some beer." Mike nodded solemnly in agreement.
-
"So they're not investigating" Dan sounded incredulous. Samantha didn't blame him. It had sounded nuts to her, too. To be told that it had nothing to do with their case had led Sam to go it alone in her search for the mystery guys from the roof.
"I didn't have enough for them to go on, but you know the area, Dan." He did. Dan had been with the NYPD for the past five years. They had both left college for criminal justice careers. Samantha had kept in touch with her old friend, even when their paths diverged.
"I don't know, Sam. No physical description; no weapons ... What exactly does this have to do with the guy who's blowing up cars?" Dan looked around the small coffee shop. It was almost completely devoid of customers at this hour of the morning. Only two other people were sitting at a table on the other side of the room.
"Nothing, as far as we can tell. But these guys found the explosives, and got them out. And one of them beat the crap out of me." Sam leaned forward, awkwardly resting her cast on the table. Her wrist didn't hurt so much now, thanks to good drugs from the hospital. "They know something about this 'mad bomber' character, and I'd like to find out more." Dan sat back, and looked up at the ceiling for a bit. Samantha bit her lip and let him think on it.
"Several years ago," he started, speaking slowly as though dredging up something from deep in his memory. "There were reports of a gang war - involving gangs from Japan."
Sam nodded at him to go on when he glanced at her. She pushed up her glasses with one finger.
"They were called, 'The Foot'," he continued. "I would have to look up the associated case files for details, but the gist of it involved a battle for leadership and territory."
"What makes you think it connects to my assailant?"
"The fighting style that you described," Dan explained, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. He scrubbed at his short black hair with a distracted hand. "The speed of the attack, and your inability to see him. It points to ninjitsu."
"Ninj ..." Sam struggled with the unfamiliar word.
"Ninjitsu: the art of invisibility. A collection of martial arts."
"So you think it might be this Foot gang?" Samantha sipped at her Chai.
"It's possible. I'm going to look at some old case files, and then we can meet again." Dan stood up, and wrestled his trench coat on. "What are you going to do?"
"A little hunting. I still have to catch the guy who's blowing up cars."
-
Raphael was contemplating his career as a watchdog. Following the bomber around, keeping track of his hiding places, and occasionally sniffing out the guy's explosives – seemed like the job of a well-trained house pet.
He paused for a moment, and considered his route. The bomber had moved to a different apartment building. Not far from the last one. This guy liked the area. He was sticking around. With a sour expression, the turtle looked across the street at the warehouse where the bomber had been keeping his stash. The cops had been so close to getting him that time, but they had let the guy slip through their fingers.
Don had the right idea. His argument made more sense to Raphael than Leo's concerns about exposing themselves. They were in the position to prevent more deaths. Raph didn't think the cops would look too hard for the murderer of a nut who had killed so many people.
And if they looked, so what? The cops had never caught them before. Leo was meditating too much on it. It was time to go with the gut. This time, Raph was pretty sure Leo was in the wrong. It didn't happen that often, he grudgingly realized, but even Donnie was against Leo on this one. They should just finish it.
Raph gripped his sai, and debated just doing it. It would be so easy to slip over to the vacant apartment building, find the right unit, and skewer the psycho in his sleep. No one would shed any tears.
He dived inside the idea and swam around for a while. It was warm and comfortable and easy.
Movement on a rooftop across the street caught his eye, driving him in a different direction.
-
Sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. The area where the stakeout had been was desolate, dark, and it would take a miracle to track anyone through this warren of closed shops and ancient warehouses. Samantha stopped on the sidewalk, and with difficulty twisted her hair back into a rough ponytail. Half a block up, she slipped into the alley. The first fire escape she came to didn't look very safe. The steps were leaning drunkenly to one side, but that wouldn't dissuade her.
First making sure her gun was securely in the holster, Sam started up the side of the building. The metal creaked alarmingly, but didn't give way under her weight. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the roof in one piece.
Sam walked the perimeter of the roof, peering in every direction for any sign of motion. Nothing, of course, appeared in her line of vision. She sat down on a crate, and kept watch.
While she waited, she went back over the details of the case. For the last three weeks, someone had been blowing up cars in parking garages. That someone was probably Thomas Sykes. He had parked in all the locations during the times of the bombings. He had military experience defusing bombs – which meant he knew how to build them as well. It was the 'why' that still eluded her. Why kill these innocent people? Was he a serial killer? Or was he making some kind of obscure political statement? She shook her head, and concentrated on the skyline.
Sam glanced nervously over at the edge of the roof. She still hated heights.
About an hour into Sam's personal stakeout, she saw motion across the street. Something had jumped from one rooftop to the next. She stood up to get a better look. The moon was nearly full, and there was no cloud cover. This was her best opportunity possible to see what that was.
Whatever it was, it was green. Or it was wearing green clothes.
Sam stepped over to the ledge to see more clearly. Definitely someone. He, it, had leaped to the next roof down in an astounding display of aerial acrobatics. He didn't land on the next roof in a skidding stop – he flipped neatly onto his feet. Who was this?
There was something tied around his head. Something like a mask: red, with long tails flapping behind him. Across the deserted street, he suddenly turned and spotted Sam. She stepped back, realizing she had no cover up here at all. Her instincts screamed at her to get the hell off the roof.
She spun and ran for the decrepit fire escape. Scrambling down it as quickly as she dared, she dropped to the alley with a jarring thud. Sam glanced at the end of the alley in time to see a shadow slip in from the direction of the green guy. She ran the other direction.
Heading for safety, Samantha pounded down the sidewalk. There was a strip another block up. There would be people and cars there. Sam couldn't hear any pursuit over the sound of her own harsh breathing, but she didn't dare stop or turn around. She turned the corner at breakneck speed, and caught a light pole to halt her flight. Sam paused, panting, under the streetlight. She looked behind. Just outside the circle of light, stood a figure. Eyes glittered behind a red mask.
"The apartment buildin' across the street," he said in a low, growling voice.
"What?" Sam could barely grasp what he was saying. His eyes – they were too large, and the wrong shape.
"The guy you're lookin' for. He's there." The mystery man moved back, and the dark swallowed him whole. Sam started, and reached belatedly for her gun, but he was gone.
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