Author's note: This is a short tale, one that just sort of popped into my head and was inspired by a line I re-read recently in my first fan-fic True Forces - both tales are based solely on the first 1990 TMNT film, and this would be a bit of a prequel for it - ENJOY! Sue Sitler a.k.a. DenymBear

Acquaintance - Part 2 - Assignment

It was a chance encounter. In every possible sense of the word.

Random, absolutely. Fortuitous, perhaps. Dangerous, without a doubt.

And it was also, a Once in a Lifetime offer, with the potential to change his immediate circumstances. Tatsu did not hesitate to bow yet again, deeply, this time. His mind was racing, and his heart pounding.

Oroku Clan. The Foot. He knew the rumored connection. It was unsettling, not just his realization of it, but of the easy-going, casual admission of recent murder from this self-proclaimed, disturbingly self-assured and young assassin. He had likely been trained from the cradle.

Tatsu's options had narrowed, immediately and with hazard – he had admitted knowledge of the rumors, and given his name. His own current situation was obvious and any refusal of acceptance was likely to result in his own demise. This – Saki - had given out his own name, quite freely; he would not leave that information behind him to be repeated, not to any person or authority.

"I accept," he said, quite formally, before his silence went on too long.

It was also apparent that Saki was anxious be gone, to put some space between himself and local law enforcement. And equally clear that his injury was an all too obvious problem that could only complicate his situation further.

"Gather your things." Saki acknowledged his acceptance with curt decisiveness. "We need to leave this area."

Tatsu came up out of the bow. "I am familiar with the neighborhood," he offered. "Where is your hotel?"

Saki named it, with the same terse delivery; he had turned, casting his eyes down, seeking something on the ground, and coming up with some sort of cloth dressing, one that he shook out and re-folded. That cloth was already bloodied, and he was looking to re-apply some less contaminated portion of it to his wounds.

Tatsu knew the location of the hotel. He did not admit his knowledge had been rooted in need – he'd too recently been sufficiently hunger-pressed to rummage the dumpster there.

He sought out his own belongings, all stuffed into a single and small sized duffle bag. He had one change of decent clothing inside, and was appalled at the very thought of entering any sort of establishment in his current and deplorable state.

"Tatsu," Saki stated his name. "At what level did you instruct?"

He turned, and bowed his acknowledgement to his new employer. He quickly stated his credentials, wondering at the relevance of the question.

Saki paused. Nodded once. "I have an assignment for you, Tatsu."

"Master Saki," he said, formally, defaulting to the loftiest possible title, furiously, silently seeking for the motive - and swiftly targeting it.

Saki was injured, and all martial arts instructors were required to have some level of training in case of possible practice injuries. Treatment for Saki's wounds - treatment without questions attached - would be very difficult to come by.

"Your wounds are still bleeding, Master." Tatsu lowered his eyes modestly. "I have first-aid training. I can tend your injury. But it will require supplies. There is a pharmacy on the way to your hotel."

There was a brief pause, as Saki gauged both his offer, and the request. And then he nodded again, seemingly pleased with the response. "I would welcome such expertise. But time is short."

Tatsu left his eyes down. "Agreed." And he hesitated. "If I may, Master... I would present myself better if I could take a moment to change."

"Do so." Saki replied, with more but somewhat milder curtness. "It is a good idea." He bent then, to pick up his own bag and to unzip some compartment of it.

Tatsu saw to himself. He'd held his sole alternate outfit in reserve, and had not used it for days, not since he'd spent his last bit of money on a few morsels of food. He was, effectively, ashamedly, destitute. He changed with haste, stuffing his soiled garments haphazardly into the bag. He would not be the cause of any further delay leaving the alley.

Saki had hoisted his bag onto one shoulder, turning to move back toward the street. The sirens had stopped, but the police lights had continued to spin atop the vehicles, casting their repetitive sequences of red and white strobe light throughout the roadway. He stopped briefly at Tatsu's shoulder, lifted Tatsu's nearest hand and slapped a bundle of American currency into his palm.

"For supplies," he said. "We must go, now, and quickly."

It was a substantial wad of bills. Tatsu didn't yet know the denominations, but it felt as if it would be sufficient. Tatsu murmured gratitude, nodded, and preceded Saki to the alley entryway. The drugstore was only two blocks east...and, thankfully, away from the scene of the crime.

He would have only two blocks to compile the list of supplies he would need to acquire.

~o~

to be Continued in Part 3 – Assessment