Title: One Hand Clapping
Author: Stormy1x2 (travelingstorm)
Word Count for chapter 8: 5782 (approx 12 OpenOffice pages)
Rating: Overall PG13 for language
Pairing: Mention of April/Casey, Casey's mom/dad
Summary: Book 1. Casey learns not all battles can be won with a hockey stick, and April, and the TMNT learn there's more to their so-called 'simple' friend then they ever dreamed.
Notes:
Sorry for the long delay! I got caught up in a few other fandoms, and then was just too busy as the end of the semester wound down. Today, I was determined to get the next chapter completed, even though it is a bit shorter than the others. Special thanks to theTech and Red Rebel for going over this for me. I went back and made a few changes and additions, so once again, any errors found are all mine.
o0o...o0o
96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696
o0o...o0o
"Callie seems like a nice girl," Adelina commented mildly the next morning.
Casey glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "I think you scared her away," he said. "The bit about wanting twenty gallons of water from the well up the road was a little over the top, don't you think?"
His mother shrugged, setting a few more dirty dishes in the sink . "I already did the potato and apple peeling thing with your girl, kiddo. I do try to be unique whenever possible."
"No argument there." Casey dried a plate and set it to the side. His cousin and his roommate had left earlier that morning, just before lunch. Cal had claimed Sid owed her a lunch that actually cost money due to a lost bet, which prevented them from staying for lunch at the house. "At least she took it well, ya know?"
The 'tests' that Adelina typically put all of Casey's potential girlfriends through, had actually been rather tame this time around. Casey assumed it was because Sid wasn't her flesh-and-blood son, and despite his teasing and Adelina's pointed remarks, it had been clear that if a romance was budding between Sid and Cal, it was in the very early stages. They had joked around more like siblings than an emerging couple.
That hadn't prevented Adelina from throwing something at her to test her mettle. Callie had risen to Adelina's challenges with a grin and a laugh that immediately garnered the respect of them all. All in all, Casey hoped that there was something growing there. Cal seemed like a good choice to keep Sid under control, and he'd rather see her on Sid's arm than Nurse Bianca.
"So when do I get to meet your turtle pals?" Adelina asked randomly.
Casey nearly dropped the cup he was drying. "Ma?"
Adelina calmly soaped up another plate, scrubbing at the remaining traces of breakfast. She arched a brow at him. "You heard me."
Casey blinked and then shrugged. "I...dunno. I mean, you sure you're up to it?" He chuckled wryly. "They can be a lot to handle. I mean, hell, Raph's like me, and Mikey's like a five year old hyped up on sugar bombs." He wrinkled his nose. "If it was just Leo and Donnie, or Master Splinter--" he trailed off as he noticed the glare his mother was aiming at him.
"I do hope you're not suggesting that I'm not strong enough to meet my son's friends," she said coolly. She rinsed off the plate and stuck it on the rack before turning off the water.
Casey frowned. "Ma, you were sick again this morning, and last night. I just don't wanna tire you out or nothin'."
"I'm fine. I didn't keel over when I caught them on your phone, did I?"
"It's a Shell Cell. And seeing them for a sec on the phone is a lot different from seeing them in person."
Adelina slammed one palm against the counter top and threw her dishcloth against the faucets with the other, leveling an angry look at him. "I may be dying, but I'm not dead yet, Arnold." Whirling around, she stormed out of the kitchen.
Casey bit back a frustrated growl and braced his hands against the sink, lowering his head. That was not what he wanted, especially not after the morning had been going so well. After a minute, he took a deep breath, draped the damp towel over the drawer handle, and followed his mother out to the living room.
She was standing in front of the window with her arms folded, glaring outside at the bright morning sunlight. With her back straight, her head up, her jaw tightened, she looked like she was a soldier, preparing to go off to war. And maybe, Casey thought resignedly, she is. Casey shuffled into the living room, hands in his pockets, eying her warily. "Ma?"
She exhaled noisily through her mouth. "Arnold."
Casey took another step forward and his foot hit a pile of papers. Glancing down, he saw it was the brochures and pamphlets from the office. The outburst in the kitchen made it clear his mother was not oblivious to her mortality. Maybe it was time for that discussion they'd been needing to have. "Look...I didn't mean you were weak or something."
A muscle twitched in her cheek but she still didn't turn around.
Casey frowned and suddenly felt impatient. "Ma, come on! I know how tough you are but damn it, you're sick! Meeting my friends isn't about meeting my friends – it's about proving you can handle the excitement and have the energy you'd need to put up with a house fulla guests." He kicked at the papers, sending them flying. "You don't want to face this – I get that. I do. But for gods sakes, stop pretending it isn't happening!"
"I'm not!"
"Well, ya sure ain't been reading those papers like the Doc wanted you to," Casey said, gesturing to the stack on the floor. "An' you don't listen to me or Sid or anyone when we ask you to take it easy. Sure looks like you're pretending to me."
Her head whipped around. "How can I do that?" she snapped back. "How can I pretend it isn't happening? I'm throwing up all the time, my own son has to treat me like an infant 'cause I can't clean up after myself – and now you think I can't even handle a few house guests? Why don't you just bury me now and get it over with?"
Casey closed his eyes, at the painful image those words conjured up. "That ain't what I'm saying, Ma. I just mean, the guys tend to attract trouble where ever they go. Part of the reason I love hanging out with 'em, but you don't need--"
"Stop telling me what I need!" Adelina whirled around completely, leveling a finger at her son. "I am the parent in this relationship, Arnold. You don't give me orders."
"I ain't trying to give you orders--"
"I can handle them, I can handle this--" The finger aimed in his direction was shaking. Just a little bit, a mere waver, but it was more then enough.
"No, ma." Casey interrupted her softly, watching the shaking grow stronger, finally seeing her anger for what it truly was. She wasn't angry at him for trying to protect her. She was angry at herself for feeling something she'd been training herself to ignore for years: fear. His eyes raised back up, meeting hers squarely. "You can't."
Adelina's hand shook even harder, the trembling spreading up her arm, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. "I'm strong enough to beat—handle this."
"Handle it? Yeah. No doubt." Casey swallowed hard, remembering Sid's words from the other day. About shaking off that denial. How it would be better in the long run. Steeling himself, Casey met his mother's gaze firmly, calmly. It was time to rip off that band-aid. "But you can't beat it, Ma. You won't beat it. And you need to understand that."
Adelina's mouth opened and then closed again. She stood there, breathing heavily, heavy tremors slowly working their way through her slight frame. Her hand dropped, and she wrapped her arms around herself, as though trying to hold herself together, when every bit of her must have been trying to fly apart. Her eyes squeezed shut, and Casey watched in grim fascination as a thick tear suddenly broke free and ran down her cheek.
o0o...o0o
96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696
o0o...o0o
Addie squeezed her hands tightly around her biceps, digging her nails in. Her chest hurt – not the familiar muscular aches from vomiting and dry-heaving day and night, but a deep, inner ache that spread through her entire body, making her throat tighten and her heart pound.
You can't beat it. You won't beat it. You can't beat it.
Casey's words echoed in her ears, running around in little in circles in her mind, and she wanted to rise up like a glowering avenger, bash those little thoughts into oblivion, rip them to shreds and scatter them so far apart she'd never feel them again. Each word beat against her heavily, painfully, and suddenly she came aware of herself, shaking her head madly, as though denying the truth, refusing to let it in.
Casey was still staring at her when she finally opened her eyes, and she realized faintly that his blurry outline was caused by tears, and that discovery caused a surge of anger to rush forth. How dare he? How dare he say what she could or couldn't do? And how dare he imply that she wasn't strong enough to beat anything life had to throw at her? She was strong! She always had been! She always would be!
Blind rage settled over, chasing away the unfamiliar tang of fear, and she relished its presence, comfortable with the feeling of anger. Her tears dried up, as though evaporating under the intense heat of her emotions, and she glared at her son.
"I can handle this," she hissed. Her hands released their death grip on her arms, and she clenched her fists – ready to beat down that invisible opponent that dared to threaten her. "I don't need you telling me what I am capable of. I don't need you telling me what I can't do. I am not a child."
Her son was shaking his head slowly. "Ma, you can't do this alone." He faced her down, sure in his belief, something she could see easily, and normally would have been proud of – had it not been aimed at her. "You need to accept this."
His tone was not mocking, but the implication that he knew more about her then she did infuriated her. Fresh rage spilled over, an inferno of heated words exploding from her. "Don't tell me what I can and can't accept!" She took a step forward, fingers flexing in and out of fists. "I've been dealing with the harsh side of life since before you were even born, Arnold Casey Jones!" She smirked at him – cold, hard. "Are you ashamed of me? Of your poor, weak, sick, old mother? Don't want to babysit me in front of your little friends?" She raised an eyebrow, feeling the power flow through her, the power she felt at being able to turn the fight around, make it a battle she could win. "Or are you ashamed of them? Don't want me to see them up close? Ogle the oddities? Watch the overgrown frea--"
"Stop." Casey's voice was quiet, but hard enough to cut diamonds. "I know what you're trying to do. You're not gonna make me the bad guy here. You hate bein' afraid so you get angry. You raised me, Ma – you think I don't recognize what you're doing?"
She fumed silently, fists tightening even further. A very faint twinge of guilt stabbed her somewhere, but she shoved it aside, not ready to give up the battle.
"It ain't about me or my friends – it's about you. No, I don't really want them here. Know why?" Casey's eyes were bright, hazy with unshed tears of anguish and frustration. "Because if they come here, you'll be running around, cleaning, cooking, driving yourself to prove to them that there's nothing wrong with you. You'll work yourself into exhaustion to keep up the illusion, 'cause I know you Ma, and I know you can't let anyone see you being weak." He took a step towards her, and Adelina cocked her head. "This ain't being weak – this is you being sick! This is you sufferin' a fatal disease that's killin' ya – and this is you pretending it will all go away if you're strong enough." He looked her straight in the eyes, and she could see the pain lying within, the truth he didn't want to admit, but was confronting all the same. "It won't go away. And you – we – can't ignore it anymore."
Adelina rocked back as though he'd struck her. She opened her mouth to deny his accusations – and found that she couldn't. Her own memory turned against her, conjuring up images of her in the bathroom, sobbing under the gentle spray, watching evidence of sickness washing down the drain, realizing she was dying and that there was nothing she could do about it. Her son hadn't witnessed her own little breakdown – he had no idea that her own illusions were being stripped away, just as his had.
Her own mind betraying her, Adelina felt the cold rush of fear creeping up on her again and in desperation, she lashed out. "Can't win, won't live – that's all I'm hearing from you." Her eyes flashed. "Are you so eager to see me die?"
This time Casey was the one who flinched, his eyes widening to an impossible size, jaw dropping. Adelina's own mouth snapped shut, and she mentally backpedaled, the faint guilt twinge from earlier reappearing and twisting, realizing she'd gone one step too far. Her fists loosened, one hand flying to her face, covering her mouth in shock at her own words. The look on Casey's face was devastating, and she was the one who put it there.
Her son didn't want her dead. She knew that. She knew he had a point about having his friends up, knew he was only trying to protect her. There was absolutely no basis for her to say the things she'd said.
She could feel her face start to crumple, her mouth twisting, and she automatically reached out to her son.
"Casey..."
Casey held up his hand, still staring at her, stark hurt completely visible in his blue eyes, and she stopped, watching as her son turned around and walked out of the room, every step perfectly even and calm. Adelina pressed her fist against her mouth, feeling her tears welling up and finally, finally, spilling down her face. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut, watching the door and silently willing her son to come back.
A minute later he returned, his keys in hand. He walked steadily past her, not looking in her direction even once, before pausing at the door.
"I'm going out, before we start saying things we can't take back." He hesitated and his eyes flicked towards the pile of papers he'd knocked over. "Do me – and yourself - a favor. Read those." He paused. "Please."
Adelina nodded, even though her son wasn't looking at her. She swallowed, her mouth dry, and rasped out, "Where are you going?"
Finally, he turned her way, his eyes blank, his face a mask of indifference. "Away."
From you, she heard the unspoken words, and a new wave of tears streamed down her face. At the sight of them, his face softened slightly, and he managed a small wave before twisting the knob and shoving the door open. He didn't slam it closed however, letting it drift shut behind him. Adelina heard the sound of his car start up, the engine he kept so lovingly tuned revving, and then the sound of gravel spraying as he wheeled his car around and sped down the driveway.
When she could no longer hear his car in the distance, Adelina broke down and sobbed as though her heart was breaking.
o0o...o0o
96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696
o0o...o0o
"This time you're going down, Mikey!" Raph growled, lunging at his brother. Michelangelo snickered and danced out of his way, planting a hand on Raph's head and vaulting over him, tapping his shell with his 'chucks.
"Point!" Splinter called, acknowledging the tag. Raphael swore.
"Sorry bro – you're just too slow!" Mikey cartwheeled out of the way of another flurry of fists, and then leaped backwards, flipping in midair and giving himself some distance from his irate brother. "I got me some skills, dude. Better quit while you're ahead!"
"Do you ever shut up?" Raph panted. Spinning his sai's, he sent one flying at his younger brother. Mikey's nunchakus whirled and deflected the incoming weapon to the practice dummy, where it lodged neatly in the center of its head. But the second it took to defend himself from the blades was all Raph needed to launch himself at the younger mutant, grabbing his wrists and forcing Mikey to drop his own weapons. They grappled together for a minute, twisting and turning, each trying to gain the upper hand and therefore, the leverage needed to overwhelm the other. Mike managed to spin himself around, gripping Raph's arm and flinging him over his shoulder, slamming his older brother into the mat.
"Point!"
"Give up?" Mikey crouched next to his hotheaded brother, poking him on the beak. Raph snarled and reached up with the lightening speed, grabbing Mikey's head and rolling over, bringing his brother with him, hard into the ground. Mike's shell hit the ground, eliciting an 'oof' of pain from the orange-banded turtle. Raph let his arms drop and they lay there side by side.
"Never," Raph gasped out. Mikey let out a pained chuckle.
"Time!" Splinter called out. Mikey flipped to his feet, turned and held out a hand to his brother. Raph eyed it for a minute and then shrugged, letting himself be pulled to his feet. But instead of letting go, he pulled Mikey towards him, pushing his head down and rubbing his knuckles across his baby brother's scalp. Hard.
"Yeow!" Mikey yelped, struggling to escape, arms flailing wildly.
Raphael smirked and released him, letting him drop to the floor. "That's for thinking I'd ever give up in a fight – 'specially 'gainst you."
Mikey stuck out his tongue, getting to his feet. Splinter coughed, and they immediately turned to their Master, who stood there waiting for them, and they bowed. "You did well, both of you. Raphael, you still must work on controlling yourself in battle. Too often you give in to the rush of anger inside, and that leaves you vulnerable to attacks."
Raphael nodded. "Yeah, I know. Gotcha, Sensei."
Splinter then turned his gaze on Michelangelo. "As for you, my son, you had a clear victory – until you became overconfident and gave your brother an opening. Do not become lax in battle until you are certain it is over."
Mikey nodded. "Okay, Sensei."
Raph snorted and turned away as they were dismissed. Practice hadn't gone quite the way he'd wanted it too. He blamed his tie with Mikey on the fact that he was still wondering what the heck Casey was up to. First he was acting all weird, then his mother found out about them, and now they were being given the brush off again. Raph let his eyes wander around the main room of the lair, his gaze settling on Leo hacking away at the air with his swords. His older brother was getting jumpy too, not liking the fact that yet another human knew about them, while they had yet to determine if she was a threat to their existence or not.
Raphael honestly didn't think she was a threat. She was Casey's mother for gods sakes – who the hell knew what kind of weirdness she'd already dealt with in life, having Casey as her kid? The fact that she didn't immediately get on the horn to the local news media last year when she saw Leo and Splinter – and again, when she discovered Casey's Shell Cell – spoke volumes about her. Raph chuckled. Mikey was itching to meet her, having a fascination with all things 'mother'. He wanted to see what she was like, how similar she was to Casey. Casey had had to do some pretty fast-talking to keep the playful mutant from driving up there that very minute.
His stomach rumbled and Raph glanced at the DVD player to see the time. He was startled to note it was almost seven thirty. "Uh guys, we doin' anything for dinner? It's getting' late."
Mikey's head shot up at the magic word 'dinner' and he bounded over like an over-active puppy, tugging at Raph's arm. "Pizza run! C'mon Raph, time's a-wasting!" He abruptly let go of Raphael and sped off into his room, emerging a minute later in his street clothes, complete with ball cap tugged down low.
Raph snickered and headed to get his own gear, pausing to call out to their brothers. "Leo, Donnie – last call for requests!"
"Hawaiian for me," Leonardo said calmly, not missing a beat in his routine. His swords flashed in the light as he rolled to the side and flipped up, slicing through an invisible opponent.
Raph nodded; he'd figured as much. "Don?"
"A Classic, please," Donatello called from his work station. He didn't even bother to look up from whatever it was he was tinkering with. Raph waved in acknowledgment and threw on his topside gear. They didn't often wear clothing, but it wasn't quite dark enough to mask their features at the take-out window, and it was still early enough for crowds. It was better to be safe than sorry.
Though he'd die before he ever said that in front of his brothers.
Mikey was fairly dancing with impatience. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!' he chanted all the way into the lift that took them topside. Raphael ignored his chants and drop kicked him away from the driver's side door of the Battle Shell. He may have to put up with Mikey on a pizza run, but there was no way in Hell he was letting the little maniac drive.
Traffic was light for a change, and their route to their regular pizza place was uninterrupted. Raph drove around to the take out window and paid the girl who raised an eyebrow at the odd combination of fedora, sunglasses and high-collared jacket that obscured most of his face, but didn't say anything. They were halfway back to the empty warehouse that sat in top of their lair and served as a garage, when Raph noticed something out of the upper corner of his eye. Pulling over on a side street, he stuck his head out the window and saw a familiar-looking shape bound over the rooftop and disappear.
Casey?
"Mikey, take the pizzas back," he said briskly, stripping quickly out of his clothing and tossing it in the back. He jumped out of the Battle Shell, letting Mikey slide over to the driver's side.
"What's up, bro?" Mikey asked, scanning the rooftops for a glimpse at whatever had attracted Raphael's attention.
"I thought I saw something," Raph said, He shut the door. "It's probably nothing."
"I'll come with you--"
"What, you think I need a babysitter?" Raph reached through the open window and gave his brother a light whack on the back of his head. "I got my Shell Cell – I'll call if I need backup."
"Raph..." Mikey was hesitant, glancing from him to the rooftops and back. Raph rolled his eyes.
"Look, I think I saw Casey." He pointed with his sai at the last spot he thought he saw the vigilante at. "I'm gonna go see if it's him. If it is, you know I ain't gonna get nothin' out of him with an audience, 'kay?"
Mikey nodded in understanding. "Sure, bro."
Raph nodded. "Good." With that, he turned and dashed across the street, leaping to the second floor fire escape, then the third and the fourth. From there he did a final leap, over the ledge, landing on the roof as silently and surefooted as a cat. Behind him, he could hear the growl of the Battle Shell engine as it started up again, and he relaxed, knowing Mikey was on his way back home.
Then he ran forward, following his battle-brother's trail into the night.
o0o...o0o
96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696
o0o...o0o
Casey had driven for hours without an actual goal in mind. He had driven on and on, down the busy highway, swerving in and out among other Sunday drivers, his mind focused on getting ahead of the next car. It reminded him of the game he and his friends used to play soon after they had gotten their driver's licenses. You picked a car in the distance and your goal was to pass it as quickly as possible, using the minimum number of lane changes specified. If traffic was light, the game was simple enough. It was when traffic was heavy that the challenge became apparent – especially when you had a sadistic best friend who would look at the gridlock, smile, point at a car fifty feet up and say, 'Okay Case – you got five minutes and at least four lane changes.'
He drove until he noticed his tank running on empty and he pulled over at a truck stop for a refill. While standing there, waiting for his car to fill up, he took stock of his surroundings, realizing that in all his lane changing and ramp-taking, he was heading in the general direction of New York City. If he started now, he'd be in his apartment by dinnertime.
Alternatively, if he started now, he'd be back at the farmhouse by dinnertime too. Provided he went straight there without the games this time.
Casey turned off the pump, screwed the cap back on and used his credit card to pay. Then he pulled out of the slot to let the next guy in, and pulled off to the side, just before the road that led back to the highway. He got out again and headed into the restaurant attached to the gas station. He bought two bottles of water, a bag of dill pickle-flavored Doritos and a pack of gum, and then stood at his car again, bracing his forearms against the roof, just watching the traffic go by.
That had been probably the worst blow out he and his mother had ever had. Casey thought about the look on her face, the anger she'd directed his way, and shuddered. Tearing open the bag of chips, he popped one in his mouth, sucking on it to get the most of the flavor and then twisted open the bottle of water to chase it down.
He didn't want to go back. Not yet anyway. He and his mother could both stand to use a little time apart – Casey had said his piece, and he knew some of it had to have sunk in to his mother by now. Besides, that little parting jab she'd gotten in still stung.
He knew his mother. All to well. He knew she was probably kicking herself for saying it the second it left her mouth, but the fact remained that she still said it. Casey didn't want his mother to die. He wasn't some kinda vulture hanging around, waiting for her to kick off. He knew that she knew that. But it still hurt. Even though she'd said it in anger, as a way of deflecting the fear, it still felt like a sharp slap across the face. He tossed a handful of chips in his mouth, crunching down hard.
If he hadn't left, Casey was afraid he would have lost his temper. It was supremely, extremely rare that he would ever do so in his mother's presence – it was unheard of for him to do it at her. He didn't want to set the precedent, so he left.
Casey finished off the bag of chips and the rest of his water before tossing both in the garbage can on the roadside. He chucked the second bottle of water at the passenger seat and got back in the car, aiming it in the direction of the city. A trip back home, a change of clothes, a shower, maybe some skull-bashing – all of it would put him in a better mood for dealing with the twist in his mother's mood. And he could grab some photos of the guys, give her a better look at them, ease the shock seeing them in person would bring.
He set his jaw resolutely. His mother wanted to meet them? Fine, she would. But it would be on his terms. Casey wasn't about to risk her health, even if she had no qualms about doing so.
o0o0o
The drive back to the city went by quickly, and in no time at all he was back in his apartment. It was funny, but just setting foot over the door made him relax, lose some of the tension he'd been carrying since that morning. His apartment was old, dilapidated, messy as all get out, but it was quiet and it was his. He could easily afford a better one, and in a nicer area, but that defeated his purpose of being right in the thick of the most troubled areas of town. His neighbours didn't bother him, and his landlady kept her nose out of his business, and so he was happy with it. Grabbing a change of clothes from the dresser, he decided to bypass the shower, setting them on the counter instead. The sun was already setting, even though it was still early. Another ten minutes and it'd be dark enough to hit the rooftops, with enough street light to see any Dragon activity. If he found anything, he'd need the shower more when he got back.
His bag of clubs and bats were right where he'd left them, and he was glad the duffel bag with his mask was still in his trunk. Gathering his stuff together, he headed for his back window, slipping out to the fire escape and then leaping up to the roof. His bag secure behind his back, his mask on his head, ready to pull down at the sight of any Dragons, Casey sped off over the rooftops.
He was surprised how much he was starting to enjoy this mode of transportation. Usually he preferred to patrol by motorbike, but pairing up with Raph meant hitting the tops of buildings more often then not. As a result, he found his stamina greatly increasing, and his gymnastic ability, something he'd always been proud of, improving by leaps and bounds, literally as well as figuratively. Besides, he'd had enough of driving for the day. He needed some physical activity to burn off the last of the tension he could still feel in his neck and shoulders, and he kept an eager eye out for any activity.
o0o0o
It took nearly an hour before he heard something – the tell-tale tinkling sounds of glass breaking. Jogging lightly across the roof of a brownstone building, he peered over the ledge to see the familiar purple tattoos scattered over the various members of the Purple Dragon Gang as they began loading their truck with TV's and DVD players. Casey blinked, wondering why no alarms were going off, until he saw one of the Dragons – Sonny, he recognized – using some kind of remote that was emitting an energy wave over the front of the store. Frequency cancellator, Casey realized. Don had mentioned those things before – how they blocked all frequencies from registering or something. Basically, all alarms, all frequency waves, everything – was temporarily turned off. The store was as good as dead in the water as long as the box was on.
Casey grinned and hefted his bat. Reaching with one hand to pull his mask down, he let out a whoop and leaped down at them.
One of the Dragons – Two Ton – looked up at his cry, just in time to take a smack to the head with the bat. He dropped like a felled tree, and the other Dragons turned as one to face the threat. Casey didn't pause; after dropping Two Ton, he kept moving, striking another Dragon in the arm with a satisfying crack, before driving the handle into the stomach of a third. The Dragon whose arm he broke, let out an agonized howl and fell back, letting his partners take his place.
Casey was surprised to see how many there were – apparently about five more were hidden in the truck, stocking the stolen goods, which made nine total. Well – seven. Two Ton and the punk with the pulped arm weren't going to be giving him much trouble. The one he'd hit in the back was back on his feet, advancing with a savage growl and a chain in his hand. He swung it out, and Casey let it wrap around his bat before yanking it out of the kid's hand and smashing his fist into his face instead. The kid hit the ground hard and then there were six.
Casey felt the last of the tension melt away as he leaped into the fray, losing himself in the battle. His bat cracked in half when he missed a Dragon skull and hit the brick wall of the store instead, and he tossed it away, reaching back in his bag for his favorite club. He pulled it out just in time to block a downward strike from Sonny, who had set his device down and joined the battle, wielding a vicious-looking knife about ten inches long.
"I'll teach you to mess with the Dragons, vigilante!' he spat at Casey, swiping at him with the other hand which held a dagger, smaller, but no less deadly. Casey jumped back just in time to avoid having his guts spilled over the pavement, backing into another Dragon who looked like he could rival Two Ton in stature. Tree trunk-sized arms wrapped around him, squeezing the breath out of him, and Sonny moved forward to help, rearing back with one hand to drive his fist into Casey's mask.
With a burst of effort, Casey struck out with his feet, catching Sonny in the stomach, doubling him over. The arms tightened and he let out a choked gasp, trying in vain to breathe. It didn't work. Casey struggled harder, and then smashed his head backwards, catching the Dragon in nose. The giant let out a shriek of pain as his nose exploded, automatically releasing his grip on Casey to grasp at his face, heedless of the blood gushing down over his chin. Casey fell to one knee, sucking in great gulps of air, spots dancing in front of his eyes, and never saw the other Dragon members regrouping behind him.
There was movement in the corner of his eye and he thought he saw a flash of green before something hard struck him in the temple, sending him spiraling into unconsciousness.
His last thought was that his mother was going to be so pissed off at him.
o0o...o0o
96969696969696969696969696969696969696969696
o0o...o0o
End Notes:
This was far easier to write than the last chapter was. :) Here's hoping the next one won't take as long. Also, I may be in need of an additional beta reader, so if anyone is interested (experience preferred), please let me know.