DICLAIMER: I delcare that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are not mine…I'm just borrowing them for a spell, making no money from it, blah blah woof woof…
As far as I can tell, there hasn't been alot of fic done on the Keno character from the second installmnent of the TMNT trilogy...so after watching it one night, I plucked up the shiny new idea, (which I have notoriuos habits of starting but not really finishing), and said... Well, what the heck!
So tell me what you think...
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A car horn sounding dangerously close brought him shockingly, and suddenly back to the real world. Realising he'd stepped off the curb into oncoming traffic, he back-pedalled wildly, his sneaker heel hitting the curb jarringly, and sent him sprawling.
Great, wonderful! He sat very still, breathing deep to control his temper, but gave up after a minute. In a sudden explosion of anger, he slammed his fist into the ground, again and again, drawing blood from his agonised knuckles. He barely noticed.
Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. Breathing hard through clenched teeth, Keno saw the spot he'd been pounding, stained slick with bright crimson, and realising, brought his hand up, wincing slightly at the damage. Most of the skin that wasn't torn and bleeding was red raw- damn it!
Wearily, he stood, distantly watching the lines and lines of cars that passed. Midnight was an hour away, but the nightlife was still very much alive, not that he really paid attention to it. Wild parties, and nightclubs lost their appeal after college, and he'd finally settled into his own patterns, focusing on his friends, practise, work…determined to put the horrors of last month behind him.
Or he tried to, at least. It was always there- his last thoughts before sleep, and the first when he woke up. Only in the company of friends did he forget, and of course practise…
Shit! He picked up the pace, his hands drawn into his leather jacket pockets, and sped down the remaining city blocks between him and his destination. Eyes downcast, he avoided people's nervous glances, hunching further, his collar pulled up. After several minutes, he slowed, checking over his shoulder before turning suddenly into an alleyway on his right. Sticking to the walls, he let the shadows cover him, and double checking to make sure the way was clear, he paused.
Satisfied he was alone, he reached out, grabbing the corner of the wire fence dividing the alley, and yanked it up, hunkering down to squeeze through the tiny space, careful not to snag his backpack on the sharp metal.
On the other side, he straightened, and relaxed, jogging leisurely past the rows of trashcans, noise wrinkled against the pungent smell. As he reached the end, he swerved slightly, turning left without breaking stride.
The warehouse, as it stood before him, had been abandoned since the early nineties, but with all the property development in the city, it had been lost under mounds of red tape. And had remained standing til today; a safe haven for rats, or any other vermin that happened to discover it.
Panting from the adrenaline rush, Keno stood, just taking in the sight of the corrugated monolith. The stillness of the night was deeper here, and it always filled him with a peaceful feeling, the stars shining clearer without the canopy of city lights littering the streets.
A movement off to his left sounded, perking his ears, and he was jolted as the stillness was broken. He waited, slowly moving back into the shadows, shrugging off his backpack in anticipation.
A shadow shifted from behind him, but it had barely a second to register before an arm snaked around his neck, strong and unyielding as it tightened against his windpipe.
A voice, hot and raspy, blew against his cheek. He jerked suddenly; the grip tightened, and he choked, gasping desperately, until a second later it eased again.
"Well, well, well! Look who finally decided to show his face around here again!" Suddenly, he was pulled backwards, and slammed face first into the metal fence, his body bouncing from impact.
The voice spoke again, growing deep with anger. "The Foot doesn't take kindly to betrayers; so how about we use you-" Keno kicked out backwards, and was rewarded with another slam, this time, his head hit the metal, and he saw black for a moment. "-To send a message to your friends. What do you say boys?"
A rippling laugh sounded from the shadows, several figures emerging blurrily at the edge of his vision. A few stragglers lingered behind, unsure, others moving up to slap his exposed cheek, and he forced the anger back down, mind working furiously.
"Come on, Karate Kid," one sneered, heavy set and cruel, "Fight back- Or are you too scared?"
Keno breathed through his nose, and shot back "Perhaps I'll just kick your arse for a warm-up, hey Grandpa?"
Exhaling sharply, he prepared, closing his eyes in anticipation. He allowed himself a small grin as the thug cursed loudly. Silently, he imagined the scene behind him, the guy winding back into a fist, his captor shifting weight to avoid being hit.
That moment the pressure on his arm eased; and he moved.
He jerked, his neck twisting painfully as he dodged a punch, letting his momentum carry his captor backwards. Leaning back, he brought up both legs and pushed off from the fence, the hit bouncing off into the wire, and the thug swore again, pained and angry.
By now, he guy had only the barest grip on his forearm; he looked up into Keno's smiling face, his eyes widening as his former prisoner drew his arm back, and sent it flying towards his face. He hit the ground with a thud, and Keno jerked his arm out of the fading grip.
Now he was free. He surveyed the group: neither one made any move, but he counted at least ten other Foot members. Nine on one- He liked those odds.
"So, anyone else of you idiots want to try?" Keno settled back into his starting stance, one hand shifting up to give them the 'come here' wave with a grin.
Silence cut through the alley. None of the thugs made a move until a voice, decidedly female, echoed up from the back.
"Je-sus!" Keno's eyes widened as the girl shoved her way to the front, the group shifting in a decidedly uncomfortable hunch.
She strode over to the thug on the ground. "How many times have we discussed this Allen? How many?" Disgusted, she rolled her eyes at his groan of pain, before turning to the rest of the group. They all took a collective step back.
"And what about the rest of you? Huh!" By that point, all the men were standing, eyes on the ground, and all smiles had disappeared. No-one dared to say a word, but even those that would have protested, knew better. So they all just stood there, waiting it through.
"We formed this group to get away from the violence and evil of the Foot! And what the hell are you doing now?" She pointed a finger at the front row, and they all flushed. "Those uniforms are to keep people away from us- not to scare the neighbourhood or other members for a giggle. Go back to the dojo and put them back NOW!" They couldn't move fast enough, the others shifting to let them back through, secretly wishing they could go too.
Keno caught himself smiling, but quickly wiped it off his face before she circled round, her glare spearing him with an unsettling, female violence. He waved, acknowledging her for the first time since she'd spoken.
"Hey Cherice," he offered up gamely.
She didn't swallow it for a minute. "Don't even think of pretending this isn't your fault either."
"But, I…"
She cut in, intent. "No, don't deny it either, 'Mister- I-told-you-the-pads-are-for-kids' crap." She moved closer, standing toe to toe with him, punctuating each word with a finger-jab to his chest.
"Come on, kiddo, no biggie." He shrugged, unconcerned with her rage, but internally winced as her eyes widened comically at the pet name, before shrinking into slits, hands balling into fists.
The others lingered as she addressed Keno, then moved off, but two stragglers, and Allen, caught his reply, and grimaced, surprised by his courage…or insane stupidity. They took the opportunity to cough, loud, hacking noises of, 'whipped.'
He heard, and sent them both a vile look over her shoulder. "Next time, it's your turn to get punked."
They blanched; his pranks were famously humiliating experiences, orchestrated for maximum effect and longevity. Sparing one another a glance, they offered an apologetic shrugs, before her voice turned them an even lighter shade of red.
"This isn't a spectator event; so beat it before I put you both on clean-up duty!"
The two scurried off, leaving the three in the alley. It was silent for a while; Keno wondered whether Cherice had finished, but doubted it.
"So," she relaxed, rocking back on her heels, "Are you going to tell me about it?"
He jolted; her sudden mood shift catching him unaware. "Ummmm…About what?"
She sighed, her eyes drifted down. Keno followed her gaze to his left hand. Oh, that. "It's nothing."
He caught her look. "It was just an accident- nothing major."
Her eyebrow raised in amusement. "Riiigght!" Pausing, she bent to haul Allen back to his feet, clutching his arm as he swayed slightly.
Assured he was safely upright, she clicked her tongue. "Please tell me you at least made a dent, a large crack, anything!"
Keno stared; confused. "How did you…?"
She shook her head, and Allen spoke up. "Come on Keno, many of us have ended up punching walls at one point or another." He smirked, crooked, one arm slung over Cherice's shoulder. "What give's us our charm!"
She let go, shoving him back, "Well you're obviously better. And," she made a face, "By the way, may I add, gross. Try again sometime, Allen, when your face hasn't been used to mop the floor."
"Oh" he placed a hand over his heart, mock hurt, "that pains me. Right here." He grinned as she cuffed him twice.
"Isn't it cute how they punch you and expect it to hurt?" The pair laughed at her affronted expression, and she stalked off, swearing long strings of Chinese curses over her shoulder.
Allen stepped over to Keno, his expression repentant. "Sorry if we did scare ya, all kidding aside. Cherice's right; even though you did set the dojo back for that fake parring sword incident…"
"That," Keno cut in, indignant, "wasn't all me, you know."
Allen continued, ignoring his outburst. "…and the shaving incident, for which you still aren't forgiven, by the way….But…"
"Yeah, yeah," Keno butted in, knowing the next words out of his friend's mouth. "'Hurts are frequent for the body, good for the soul, and often, a necessary evil of the mind.' Quoting Chan won't help you out of this apology!"
Allen turned back down the alley, stopping at the corner.
"Who's apologising?" He grinned. "Not I."
Keno smirked; it was always like that with Allen and Cherice. Five minutes with them, and he shifted back into his old self. He had missed it.
Allen called out again, "Coming to practise or what, Karate Kid?"
Smiling, Keno retrieved his discarded backpack, swinging it up onto his shoulder, and moved forward.
"Sure Grandpa. See if you can stop me."