Purple. What a strange color.
Not to shame it or anything, but the brilliant shade of violet that glows in the glass vial just screams 'bad news'. I speculate it from afar as Donnie holds it close to his face as if observing a small, newly discovered species of insect. Whether in a good or bad way is still to be determined, but my mind is already made up that it is, indeed, in no means meant to serve some divine, world-saving purpose. Probably the complete opposite. And that's what scares the hell out of me.
"If this purple substance was injected into Bebop and Rocksteady's bloodstream, it's possible that if I can find a unique isotopic signature I can use it to track their exact location." Donnie says after exiting his lab.
"We find them, we find Shredder." Casey speaks up confidently, setting down is hockey stick. "Pt them up in shackles." I continue to eye him warily as he rounds the candle-strewn podium.
Like with most people, I don't trust Casey Jones. Now, don't get me wrong. Seeing someone else that isn't a mutant reptile or rat and was dragged down here against their will is reassuring in a weird, not-at-all-reassuring way. But did it have to be him?
You may—of course—be wondering what I mean and why I'm being so harsh towards the stranger, including with the little incident with the Stop sign (which may or may not have been totally my fault), but let's just say that he isn't exactly pleasant company.
To start off, this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he's handsome. I mean, yeah, he is. Symmetrical features, strong build. In all, he's quite a sight. But he's a little older.
Oh puh-lease! Don't give me that bullshit! I have absolutely nothing against his age. And although he has to be in his late twenties to early thirties, he acts like a complete child. Always moping around and complaining about the conditions down here like some whiny five year old. Seriously, grow up!
And then there's the matter that he's all googly-eyeing the beautiful woman standing in the room, April. (Not that I have anything against his immediate interest in the woman in the yellow jacket. It's more like most of his attention is on her and only here and not at all on the subject at hand, which is really frustrating).
April. April fucking O'Neil. The successful, smart news reporter who not only took part in saving the city, but was also deemed to be the turtles' savior all those years ago when the lab was burned to the ground.
And...
Hey! Can you keep a secret? Like, the biggest secret in the history of secret keeping?
Are you sure?
Okay. Here it goes... I may be an itsy bitsy, teeny tiny, a wee little bit jealous of the brunette. I'll explain why later.
"Um, excuse me. I named them." April suddenly calls out, pulling me out of my daze.
"And what's with the kid?" Casey says, motioning to me from across the room. "Is she like some kind of superhero you guys are hiding or is she just a whack job you picked up off the streets."
"I'm more or less the former." I answer, shrugging at the ring of truth in his statement. Honestly, who's to say that he's wrong? "And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only whack job here who was picked up off the streets, Jones."
Oh ho ho ho ho! Need some ice for that burn, Hockey Boy?
Casey narrows his eyes in my direction with so much intensity his gaze could've set me on fire, but I don't flinch. Instead I grin proudly, relishing in the moment of pure victory. It's a small victory, but I'll take what I can get.
The majority of the others chuckle to themselves while the stick in the mud known as Leonardo rolls his eyes at me tiredly.
"Okay." Casey draws out slowly after a pause, clearly befuddled by both my honesty and snarkiness. "So... wait. I'm confused."
"About what?" I ask.
"Just... I don't know." He fumbles. "Like, what are you doing here? Do your parents know where you are?"
Oh my fucking god. He didn't...
How the hell did he even... how did he blindly shoot an arrow into the chink of my armor with no intention of bringing me down whatsoever. Why? Just why?
"I'm guessing someone didn't fill him in on my current situation." I say squeakily due to the tightness in my throat. I try to brush off my previous shock by leaning against the wall casually, folding my arms across my chest to hide my trembling hands. Casey doesn't seem to take note of my change in behavior as something else grabs his attention. He suddenly turns and goes stiff as if he had seen some kind of ghost. His eyes widen and he looks like he might faint.
"Don't move. Don't move." He whispers to Raph and Mikey. They do as he says without any explanation.
Automatically, I feel endangered. I cautiously creep towards the statue of a man to get a better look at what has scared the once fearless hockey stick-wielding warrior.
"There is a giant rat back there." He wheezes out.
True to his word, Master Splinter resides in a dim, domed room, pruning some bonsai looking plants that remind me of something I probably saw in some karate movie, I think. And I'm pretty sure the song Hello (which one, I'm not sure) is playing on his old radio.
I snicker at Casey's shock of seeing the turtle's adoptive father in such a peaceful, non-threatening state.
"Yeah. We've, uh... seen him around here before." Raph draws out, a mischievous gleam sparking to life in his eyes.
What the hell is he talking about? That's his dad, I think to myself, confused at the reptile's statement.
"And there's only one way to get rid of him." Raph says, seemingly starting to get excited about something. Obviously I have no idea what it is.
I swivel my head around to see if anyone is willing to let me in on some inside joke that I'm unaware of. The results are varying. April and Donnie look just as confused as I am, Mikey seems to be on Raph's side, and Leo looks to be trying to get the duo's attention with warning hand signals.
What the fuck is going on?!
"You gotta get low." Raph encourages, kneeling down into a defensive position. Casey follows, as if consumed by the red clad mutant's words than actual common sense. "And when you charge, you gotta go fast and you gotta hard."
Wait! Is he… Oh. I get it now.
Ooooooohhhh. This is going to be fun.
Casey bounces on the balls of his feet, preparing to run. I decide to sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.
"I believe in you Casey." Mikey comments.
And finally, Casey lets out an ear splitting war cry as he takes off in a flash. And just as he is about to collide with the overgrown rodent, Splinter swings his tail and snags Casey's foot from right under him, sending him falling to the floor with a lid thud. The sensei does a series of flips and twists and lands gracefully in front of the sprawled figure known as Casey Jones the police officer.
"Giant rat:1. New guy:0." Splinter says triumphantly.
Everyone chuckles as we gather around the fallen man. To see someone go from absolutely fearless in the midst of danger (when there wasn't anything dangerous at all) to lying on his back like an overturned bug makes a smile spread across my lips.
Oh come in. It was funny.
"I can't believe he did it. I actually thought he wasn't going to do it." Raph says, fist bumping Mikey's outstretched knuckles. Another round of laughter chains through the group.
"I feel like we should save people more often." Says the orange-banded brother.
Agree to disagree.
Casey takes to his feet and storms away, fuming with embarrassment and rage. April follows after him in hot pursuit to bring him back. If it were me, I'd let him leave. At least one of us would be able to get out of here without four walking, talking turtles taking chase.
"Oh, hey!" Donnie says to me. I turn to him sharply and he backs away. Perhaps it's the way I approach the technical genius (scorning frown and tense posture) that makes him quiver like a small animal under a predator's gaze.
Wait a minute! Is that how he feels around me? Is he afraid of me?
In most situations, I wouldn't have taken much thought in intimidating another, mainly because I really don't give a damn. But the fact that I strike fear in the brainiacs heart so easily makes me second guess myself. Apparently, I'm much too aggressive for him. Maybe because I feel like I have to. If I was to go soft out of nowhere, they would all take advantage of me and see it as some sort of weakness. It would be like bringing my guard down. And with that they can... they can… I don't know what they'll do. But what I do know is that I'm not going to be staying here long enough to get acquainted so it doesn't matter.
I keep telling myself that to subside the constricting muscles in my chest that could be mistaken for guilt.
"What?" I ask.
"Um, A-April brought some s-stuff for you." He stutters. He spins on his heel and shuffles away, retrieving a duffel bag from the stacks of pizza boxes that is their couch. He hands it to me quickly, as if passing food to a feral tiger.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Well, I figured that you're gonna be here for awhile, right?"
Yeah, against my will.
"Yeah. So?"
"So I called April and she went out and bought you a few necessities we thought you might need."
Unbelievable. While I've been sleeping like a baby, he's been making sure that I'm provided with stuff that I didn't care to think up of earlier. He was making sure that I make myself at home, like I'm a real guest.
How thoughtful.
Unfortunately, I figure out that I'm too much of a coward to express my gratitude because I give him the faintest of nods and skedaddle. From racing down the highway on a motorcycle like a maniac to running away at confronting my thoughts and feelings. That's me. Character development at its finest, ain't it?
I set the bag on my bed and zip it open. Inside are all the bathroom necessities that could ever exist: a hair brush, hair bands, a towel, a moisturizer that smells of roses, a toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, even a bit of shaving cream and a razor blade. April thought of everything.
It's in this moment, hygiene products scattered around me, where I realize that I am filthy. As if glimpses in mirrors and pools of water weren't enough. My hands are covered in a layer of dirt, a dark substance buried deep under my fingernails, said fingers yellowing from lack of cleanliness. And this is just my hands.
I grab my stuff, including my own backpack, and take off to find the nearest restroom. It takes me awhile to actually find the bathroom because I absolutely refuse to ask for directions. It may just be my pride, but I really don't want to waltz up to one of the brothers and ask them something as subtle as where their facilities is like everything is all good between us.
Well, at least I am with one, maybe two. First, there's Mikey. Mikey is such a sweetheart it's hard to not embrace the lug. Kind, lovable, and trustworthy. I make a mental note to watch my back with him. Who knows? His oh-so-friendly personality could just be a facade.
Then there's Splinter. Calm, collected, and overly fatherly. Not just with his sons, but with me, as well. I'm tempted to accept his helping hand—er, paw—like all children do with their parents as an act of love and understanding, but I can't see myself like that. Needy and lost (these qualities apply to me in another sense) like some kid searching for guidance when low and behold, there's Master Splinter. I depend too much on myself to reach out to anyone else, and I don't plan on stopping anytime soon.
The bathroom is surprisingly bigger and cleaner than I expect. I stop dead in my tracks when I spot myself in the mirror.
I am a mess! Plain hoodie and white washed jeans caked in mud, my sneakers totally trashed; laces shredded to ribbons and one of the tongues are nearly ripped in half. Whatever skin pokes out from underneath the heaps of soiled cloth is smudged in a thick layer of sweat and grime. And my hair, don't even get me started.
I quickly grab the needed supplies and jump into the shower. We've got work to do.
—
Have you ever taken a hot shower?
That was a stupid question. You probably have. But to me, it's like….
Okay. Put yourself in my shoes. For over two weeks, I've spent my days walking in a deserted forest, alone and afraid, with only scarce ponds and lakes to take a dip in. Apparently, Mother Nature never intended on having preheated bathtubs in the wilderness so all of my bathing took place in the shallows of icy waters. Now imagine yourself after weeks of chilled baths and are now taking the hottest, steamiest shower you have ever experienced. Feels good, doesn't it? Well, now you know how I feel.
Scrubbing my entire body in sweetly scented soaps under a rain of piping hot water, tendrils of steam curling through the air, streams of warm vapor misting the walls and my bare skin. I have no idea how long I'm in here for, but what I do know is that I never want to get out. Yet I do, and with my exiting comes another discovery.
Drying myself off with the provided fluffy black towel, I see something sticking out from April's duffel bag. I pull it out curiously. It turns out to be a length of pale blue fabric that resembles a t-shirt. I press it in between my fingertips and gently stroke the silk-like material. Cotton. I dig through the bag's contents on a quest to see what other treasures lie in its depths. A few more shirts, pants, undergarments, even a few pairs of socks. And best of all, a brand spanking new set of tennis shoes. Their bleach white color is nearly blinding compared to my stained, muddy ones tossed on the tile floor.
Not only did April go out of her way and make sure that I could get all squeaky clean in the time I'm here, but she also thought to buy me a few new sets of clothes. How delightful.
In case you didn't catch it, that was me being sarcastic. Don't like it? Well, then you better get used to the disappointment.
I dress rather quickly, eager to wear something fresh for a change. When I wipe off the sheen of perspiration off the mirror, the change in my appearance is dynamic. I can now fully see my skin—which is a browning tan with a slight pink tint from the many days of walking under the sun's intense rays. My black hair hangs in damp waves at my hips, tangle-free and gleaming in the pale, yellow light. I look like a whole new person.
A second look at myself has my once grinning face suddenly falling. I remember the person who gave me all of this. The one person who didn't expect a 'thank you' from me or had any strings attached to these gifts like its a bargain. She had done this out of the kindness of her heart. And she's just as beautiful on the outside as she is on the inside.
I guess I really can't blame myself for comparing my looks to hers seeing that she is the very definition of gorgeous. And me... I'm not even close. I mean, she has flawless skin, perfect facial features; slender, thin body, and an overly kind personality.
Now put Exhibit A to next to Exhibit B and what do you get? A nearly rigged competition where everyone in the crowd votes for the obviously better fit competitor. I think you know what I'm talking about.
For starters, I am short and stocky. While April is a solid 5'6 without her designer shoes, I'm barely hovering over 5'3 like a hobbit. And sure, I'm taunt and muscular, but my body isn't capable of flowing with curves in all the right places, very much unlike the reporter. And instead of the sharp cheekbones, plush lips, and glittering eyes that the average lady beholds, I got stuck with a round baby face. Simple features such as brown eyes too large and too hungry for my small face, a soft button nose, and an ugly scar the shape of a crooked, upside-down triangle etched into my left cheek. And one last flaw that has my heart sinking into the pit of my stomach is my teeth. They're not as bad as you think. In fact, their relatively clean from the lack of use from hygienical mouth products. It's more or less their size that brings me down. Compared to most (mainly April), they're bigger than the norm. More like buck teeth. I come to realize that I have a slight lisp that gives the impression that I'm under the age of sixteen. Not that there's anything wrong with it because I am, without a doubt, possibly fifteen years old, but it does make me feel like I talk like a little girl. No wonder they all treat me like a kid.
See! This is what I mean by me being jealous of her. She's just so fucking perfect and walks around with her head held high as if she doesn't have a clue.
I press my lips together firmly to stop a whimper from escaping my throat.
God! I'm so pathetic. Standing in the bathroom wallowing in self pity all because I'm not pretty is just low, even for me. I shouldn't be so hung up on my oh-so-dashing looks when I have an escape plan to work on. And as much as I appreciate the new threads, I don't think to thank April for them. It would be better if I just left without ever exchanging any words at all, that way I won't feel any attachment to her when I book it.
The sooner I get out of here, the better. Whether I'm talking about the actual bathroom or the band of turtle vigilantes' lives, I'm not sure.
Aren't I a stubborn bastard?
I gather all of my stuff and leave the stuffy bathroom before I suffocate to death from the abundance of steam. I shove all of the baggage under my bed and throw out my old clothes. I consider keeping them for sentimental purposes, but dump them into the garbage can before I can change my mind. They bring back too many memories, most of which I wish I could forget.
Okay, now what do I do? Guess I can make my bed, maybe even fold those clothes. Yeah, I'll do that.
"Hey." A voice says behind, sweet as honey and as strong as whiskey. I have to physically force myself not to groan.
Ugh! Not you again!
"What do you want?" I ask sourly, back sto him as I fold my new wardrobe and place them neatly at the foot of the mattress.
"Jeez, tone it down a bit." Says Leonardo. "I'm just trying to be polite here."
"Uh-huh, sure." I mumble as I fully turn to him. In the pale, rustic glow of ancient lightbulb, shadows cast against his figure, illuminating features that I hadn't noticed before. Like the way the scar on his chin stretches when he clenches his jaw. Or how the shallow darkness hollows out his cheeks and the eye sockets of his skull, pronouncing the vibrant shades of greens mixed in his skin. And even more, the way his electric blue eyes sparkle like sapphires beaming under the flashlight of hopeful miners trapped under hundreds of feet of earth. I can't help but notice that his right eye is lighter than his left, the ring of white encircling his right pupil larger than its twin. How peculiar.
He leans against the bricked off frame of the entrance, crossing his brawny arms over his plastron.
"So... how are you?" He asks.
Fucking fantastic! How are you?
"Spectacular." I answer, clearly not at all spectacular now that he's showed up.
He drags out a long sigh and stands upright. "Look." He starts, rather slowly as if trying to keep his cool.
We'll have to see how that goes for him when I rumble up another fight with him.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot."
"You think?"
"I'm just saying that I haven't been the most… welcoming of people to confront you. And—lets just put it out there—neither have you." I scoff, but continue to listen. "And I would like to be the first to apologize for my lack of manners and welcoming greetings."
Oh, he's such a gentleman.
WRONG! Like I'm going to believe all this bullshit that he actually regrets not being relatively nice to me when we first met. I bet he wrote this whole heartfelt speech on his hand for good measure.
"Maybe we could find a way to put aside our differences and-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop right there." I interrupt him. He instantly shuts up, more out of shock than obedience. I need to speak my thoughts aloud before he continues to make amends as if he means it. Which I doubt he does. "Okay, listen here. I know what your trying to do here and it's not gonna work."
"What?"
"Oh, come on. It's pretty obvious. You know, you're not exactly subtle by any standards." He opens his mouth to speak, but I don't give him the chance. "I think we both know that you of all people wouldn't be apologizing to me on your own accord. I bet someone probably put you up to this so that I'll behave.
"Well, I got news for you. You don't need to come up to me and try to fix things as if you actually want to. You don't have to admit it, but I know that all you want is for me to cough up all the dirt on the Shredder like I'm one of his little spies and pack up my stuff and get the hell out of here. News flash: I don't know shit! And due to this oh-so tragic realization of me not knowing anyone or anything related to your great nemesis, I can therefore not help you with your mission of bringing him down. So why don't you just take your sorry ass out of here and find something better to do with your time than waste it on me."
I only realize that I'm yelling once I finish speaking.
Silence. Awkward silence. Deafening silence. Complete and utter silence. That's all that remains between the two of us. Silence and tension. Tension so thick you could slice it with the dullest butter knife in your kitchen drawer.
Our eyes lock and we sit there for an eternity, staring into each others' souls.
I mean it. I mean every word I had spoken, which is probably why the blue-banded turtle is so speechless. I've done it again. I have just proved to him that I may not be the spy he believes me to be, but that I am the self-centered, hot-headed bitch he always knew me to be—as of two days knowing each other.
Was I too intense? Yeah, probably. And an inkling of my being turns to ice in fear that I had offended the mutant leader in some form or way, but I'm actually glad that I said something to him. It's better than keeping quiet. Plus, it was bound to come out sooner and later. Fate just decided to go with its first option.
The look on Leonardo's face is enough for me to nearly bust out laughing (but I restrain myself, of course). The absolute awestruck that riddles his face is just so shocking that it's hysterical. Mouth dropping open into a big 'o', nonexistent eyebrows scrunched together tightly, and eyes widened so much that they threaten to fall out of his head.
After a moment to collect himself, he lets out a heavy sigh, placing two of his fingers in the space between his eyes as if to assuage a headache. He looks exhausted. "I'm sorry." He breathes out after a minute. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but you have to believe me. I am truly sorry that we couldn't have met under different, less pressuring circumstances. And I know it sucks that you're being forced to stay down here, but we don't have a choice."
"What do you mean that you don't have a choice? There's always another choice." I comment, a little less demeaning than my angered bout earlier.
"You're not wrong, but as a leader I have to make the smart decisions, whether I like them or not. If it were up to me, I'd let you go just because you want to. But I can't."
"Why can't you?" I nearly scream out,
"Because I have a responsibility to my family to keep them safe from any possible threats, even if that so-called threat is you." He shouts back. "In my honest opinion, I don't think you're working with the Shredder. But's the possibility that you could be that enforces me to take precautions. I don't want you to stay down here thinking your our prisoner, I don't want you to fight with us, I don't even want you here while we're in the middle of something this big. But I don't get what I want because I have to set aside my wants and needs to protect those around me." He takes a deep breath, face glowing with an angry blush. "One learns real quick that in order to protect your family, you have to sacrifice your feelings to preserve theirs."
Now it's my turn to be at a loss for words. He basic just poured out his heart and soul to me. Me, the most unprecedented person to converse with about feelings in general... and strategy... and logic. Yeah, I'm not that stable in my core values.
In this little heart-to-heart of ours, Leo has either been truly genuine or just a really good liar. Either way, its effect is almost instantaneous. At first I feel a pang or guilt strike my innards as if his words had taken the form of a sledgehammer and swung at my gut. I try to brush it off, of course, repeating to myself that it's just my hunger and thirst (but seriously, I'm like dying of dehydration). But then I see how shook up Leo has become. No longer does he stand proudly with his back straight and gaze steadfast forward, nor does he hold himself with a sense of strength or solidity. It's as if he's turned to liquid; unstable and fluid. As if the very foundation of a mighty, sturdy building suddenly transformed to water and it all collapsed down into a pile of rubble and mud.
Is he just talking about putting aside his feelings with me or is he meaning something else? Something in my gut says otherwise.
"You weren't just talking about being a leader and making hard choices, weren't you?" I say.
He huffs, shrugging slightly. Not quite confirming it, yet he not denying it, wither. "Forget it. It doesn't matter." He says shortly, turning away from me.
For a moment I have the overwhelming urge to pester him about what he really means. To listen with an open ear to whatever is going through his mind like I actually care about him and his feelings. It's a strange feeling. And due to its oddness I deny it, pushing it down as if I can get rid of it. But it's like trying to submerge a balloon into a bucket of water.
"Well," I say and clear my throat to get his attention. "As much as I've enjoyed our little talk, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave. As you can see I've got some settling in to do."
Leo looks somewhat disappointed, but easily composes himself so that he's back to normal, or as normal as your friendly neighborhood teenage mutant ninja turtle can be. He gives a curt nod, whispering a 'bye' when he excuses himself.
Dear reader, I believe that we have been acquainted, right? I mean, you've been listening to my story for like what? Six chapters? And I'm sure you've noticed that on the rare occasion I've been known to do something stupid.
Well, maybe not that rare.
…
FINE! You win. I do stupid things a lot. You happy?!
Unfortunately, now is one of those times.
"Hey." I call. Leonardo stops midstep, head still looking before him on the floor. "I'm sorry."
The slightest shift of his neck reveals those dazzling azure orbs. They're a beacon of light in the bleak gloom, glowing like jewels adorned on a beautiful woman's necklace.
"It's fine." He says in a hushed voice. "And thanks... for hearing me out."
"It's the least I could do."
The mutant shuffles away without another word and I'm once again left alone.