Nirvana

Newer 'AN': SO SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATE! OMG, there's no excuse really, or explanation other than this has been on the back burner but I am paying a little bit more attention to this now and it should get updated interchangeably with Nerd Support so since I just updated that I'm working on this. I've had this "almost done" for a while. I think as part of my regret and since the update has been so long I'll give you guys two chapters today (or try to).

AN: Thanks to Scribe of Turesa for reviewing chapter three. I would've posted this sooner (would've updated sooner, period, on anything) but life's been a little crazy. Plus I've been doing Christmas shopping and refining, planning, how this story will go. I don't think it'll be anywhere NEAR as long as Enigma but I could be wrong. Not sure on that, perhaps it'll map out that way. Anyhoo, here's chapter four! Thanks to all my readers and reviewers for being so patient for the next installment!

"You're sure this is her?" Kier whispered curiously as Maeleyn dared enter the dojo at eight A.M. the next day while Jezebelle slept. The dojo seemed to be her bed of choice. To the mutant reptile hybrid it seemed too impossible not to be her, so she finally decided—confirmed—it was her and took action. That action was to have her father see her, too, and write a letter. The Lincolns would take a letter from her father much more seriously than one from her (they'd think she was still grieving and possibly delusional).

Maeleyn swung the picture around, one she had copied from the album her father had brought back from Rhode Island, and put it up next to the sleeping cat mutant's face, careful not to disturb her. In the photo the hair color was different (but she dyed her hair often, Kier had to remind himself) but the face was too similar. Some features had been softened or completely taken away by the mutation but her human qualities matched too well. From Maeleyn's fifteenth birthday party he could see a shot she'd taken with Jezebelle passed out sleeping at the foot of the bed, her face cocked to the left and submerged into a pillow; despite the marker-made heart, smiley face, and mustache he could see one half of it was her. He was sure of it.

"You can't tell me it's not her." Maeleyn looked at him solemnly and he shook his head. He'd have to agree; though the nose was softer, looked less human and out-pointing from a profile view it was her.

"Are you going to tell her?" Kier asked his daughter, Maeleyn shrugged. He watched her skirt her fingers lovingly over the top of Jezebelle's head like an older sister. There was a lot of deliberation there, he knew, and a lot of weighing the pros and cons. On the one hand, she could know that people had looked for her once upon a time; that they loved her, and on the other hand, she could learn they had stopped looking for her. Gave her a memoriam…assumed her dead. "I don't think she'd want to know…"

They'd gotten a replacement. That in itself was a good reason—if not the only one—not to tell her about her parents. No child should ever have to learn their own parents had given their identity to a new child, an adopted one, because the parents missed them or lost them. It would be much too much on her system, and perhaps her mental state. But as her parents they did have the right to know she'd been found…but would they believe him?

"Well, I think they'd want to know. I wanted to know about you when Rilien told me you went missing. I didn't care that you'd been mutated." he offered quietly, ruffling his daughter's head of hair affectionately. Maeleyn sighed; squeezing her eyes shut softly. This was a lot more complicated than she thought; it wasn't easy guarding a friend—a sister—from her past, and it felt all too alien to be playing a parent and censoring what she could know. Kier left her to debate with herself, careful to be silent as he exited the dojo. Maeleyn let the auburn strand of hair go and sighed, rising from her knees, following him.

If she knew her father she knew he was going to write that letter anyways. "Don't write the letter at the house, just in case she goes on a memory trip and wants to see it…even if it's not the real house."

"I wasn't," Kier followed her line of thought that nostalgia could unlock scenes of her more recent memories and grinned slightly; almost aghast that she thought he would do such a thing. "I was going to use April's shop as a safe place. She hasn't met them yet."

"Leo and Raph want her to meet them but we're strongly assuming meeting people—humans—isn't on her list at the moment."

"Let the kid rest, Mae. She needs it. I'll call and let you know when I drop the letter off, okay?" he kissed her head.

"Be careful." Maeleyn told him as he headed for the elevator, preferring not to go through the sewer muck. She peeked back into the dojo to see her friend hadn't yet stirred but merely rolled over and stretched out one leg. It was two hours past the morning training and she felt odd, with little to do. Cuddling with Raph was always an option but she felt too keyed up for that; a weird anticipation stretched her body taut. Something was going on, or something was coming, and she was suspicious.

Maybe it was due to the training or maybe it was intuition but something was up, and something bad. "She sleeping still?" Mikey asked curiously, trying to see past her. The sandwich in his hand told her he'd come from the kitchen. Maeleyn nodded and Mikey shook his head incredulously. "She sure sleeps a lot…you think she'd like to see the city?"

"What?" Maeleyn looked at him curiously, suspiciously for the random though. Sure Mikey had the best intentions and was a regular cat lover by default but this was no regular cat he was suggesting to set loose around the city. This was a person, her best friend. "Maybe…" Maeleyn finally conceded, "but only if she wants. We shouldn't force her."

"Well duh, then Leo will be on my tail and I don't want that. I just thought, you know, it'd distract her or something. Take her mind off her kid and everything…"

"What makes you care so much?" teased Maeleyn though she knew the answer. Or hoped she did anyways. Mikey could simply be projecting his playful, affectionate, emotions onto her because she was so cat-like and he loved Klunk entirely too much, almost like a child. That was her theory, anyways; it could be possible, though, Mikey felt inclined to be nice to her due to her current state and be the type of guy—turtle—to be sucked into the person crafted by the guilt and traumatic past. Either way she'd have to watch him and make sure he wasn't getting into her—if that was the case—for the wrong reasons.

"Good thought but we'd have to see. I mean…she's not even comfortable with Splinter yet."

"She doesn't have to be comfortable with Splinter. He doesn't go with us. She just has to be willing to hop around the city."

"Who has to be willing to hop around the city?" a sleepy voice inquired. For a second Maeleyn and Mikey immediately thought the inquiry to be Leo's but when they watched Jezebelle pull from a rather satisfying ground stretch as her ears flicked to and fro they relaxed.

"You," Mikey simply grinned. "Don't you wanna see Manhattan? You know, get a gist of where you're living now?"

"I'm not living here," said Jezebelle matter-of-factly. Mikey quirked an eye ridge.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Having a temporary stay in an underground living area occupied by other creatures. Home doesn't have to be a place to live; it's a place where you can find the people that love you."

"And you don't think you're home?" he asked curiously after gathering from her last comment that she failed to see them as family…home, safe.

"I haven't been home in years…I think this is hardly the place to start." whispered Jezebelle as she pawed at her ear. These people…creatures…weren't really her family! Then again, whoever was back home must not be either. She hadn't heard from any other "Lincolns" in a long time. To avoid the awkward conversation and slight disappointment that she wasn't as outwardly affectionate as he was Mikey gestured to the side room where they kept any extra clothes they could get their hands on.

"We'll need to dress you up a bit so you don't freeze."

"I have fur," grumbled Jezebelle, "I'm fine."

"But you'll still need coverage. We haven't been caught yet but you still look mostly human so we're just going to play off of that. " he gave her a ratty old hat that still looked usable, one April had gotten off a flea market spree and plopped it on her head. The sheer grape-purple of it made her white robe she'd been wearing for the last few days very bright, and second place to the fraying hat. "And last year after the storm died down April ordered Maeleyn a trench coat like we have. Extras were ordered, too, we never know how long they'll last on us. This one is…Maeleyn's, it should be the closest fit."

"What storm?" asked Jezebelle as she stuck her arms into the trench coat, shaking the extra fabric down which caused the sleeves to totally swallow her arms. Mikey frowned a little; best not stir that back up yet.

"A figurative storm," he replied, trying to figure out what else she might need. Jezebelle buttoned the coat up and looked at him. The arms of the trench coat went way past her own but even Mikey knew fingers could catch attention; while they could play her off as an amputee easier than they, themselves could, it'd be best to dress them up. "Angel had some gloves here once…where are they?" he rummaged through a collected sock pile that had birthed from Casey or April using their washing machine when the one at the shop went wonky (they had to clean their masks and elbow pads, after all), hoping they'd be with the unclaimed clothes. "Here,"

"The coat goes past my arms, I don't need gloves!"

"You'd think so," Donatello watched the mess gradually destroying the room with slight interest (Mikey was going to have to clean it all up meaning the lair would be quiet for a while when they came back), "but the rooftops are cold and since you appear to insist on walking on all fours you'd want the gloves. Ice might prevent you from functioning as you normally would." Jezebelle sneered at the idea of gloves. She knew her claws wouldn't work in the material and she'd just be fighting the tangles. Plus—she didn't know how many times she'd have to say it—she had fur, so why go the extra measure? But then again…they were only looking out for her.

Making sure she didn't stick to the rooftop and all…almost like the other cats in her 'family'. The least she could do was comply since they did keep her from drowning. Then again…what good was a life without your child? "Alright," Jezebelle relented, "I'll wear the stupid gloves."

"Good, now we need to find you some shoes…or slippers because—" Jezebelle gave him a stern 'no way!' look. "Never mind." Mikey quickly banished the idea of suggesting shoes. "You're good." she rolled up the long sleeve of the trench coat and examined the studded gloves. Sloppy handiwork made her think of a teen or growing child learning how to sew; for the most part these gloves were black, and originally fingerless, but crude purple finger strips had been sewn onto the end, giving them a very ragged, odd look. They were useful, though.

Jezebelle took to slicing a small end section near the fingertips off; the pads of her fingers needed to be free so she could use her claws and walk normally (or what she considered to be normal). Her winter protectors were just going to have to deal with some modification. "So now what?"

"We wait until midnight." Leonardo said simply, sipping green tea and carrying a kettle off into a far room. Must be that rat's room, his smell is everywhere in this house. On them…Jezebelle couldn't deny it was in her new set of instincts to seek out the rat. Find him. Chew on him, wound him, but she was fighting those. After all, she wasn't entirely cat; there was humaneness in her.

She'd like to think her humaneness hadn't left her, anyways. "Right…" she whispered, enthusiasm swiftly dwindling and dying like an ember. "Midnight…" that was hours away, at least ten, but then again, they could decide to go out early. Jezebelle stretched out across the stone floor, flat on her stomach and parallel to the coffee table, sighing. She rolled to her side, laying on one arm and the other reaching out towards the coffee table. "Wake me when it's time…"

Leo peeked at her from over his tea cup. What an interesting creature…human turned creature. Animal creature, like him, just not his species. Constantly sleeping, late into the hours of the morning, near noon of the day. He wasn't sure if the routine was established after having that weight lifted off of her, being away from the base, or if it was just her nature; he was betting on the former.

Her tail didn't seem to care that the rest of her was perfectly still; it swayed to and fro, arching off the floor at various heights. "Leo! Quit staring at her butt!" Mikey, just to be obnoxious and take advantage of a rare opportunity to pull one over the eldest demanded loudly, causing Leo to nearly spit his tea. Oh the many ways he could kill his brother! Mikey giggled insanely and Leo felt his cheeks warm. Jezebelle's ears pressed back into her hair and she shot up, twisting at an odd angle, narrowed eyes pinning the two.

"I wasn't-!" Leo began to object, trying to stammer something more intelligent and plausible.

"Weak, Mikey, weak. So stupid…" muttered the cat mutant, annoyed that she'd been caught off guard and fell victim to such a lame, sudden shout. Probably wasn't even true. From what she'd been witnessing of the household this Leo guy was more priest-like than pervert; dedicated to his practices like a monk but observant and guarding of people like a deity from above. Mikey on the other hand…

Who'd like a cat mutant anyways? Her bone structure and range of motion had been completely changed by Misellus Corp, and her fingers and toes were much different than there…well, in texture. They had the same number of fingers, she noticed, but not toes. Jezebelle, herself, felt like she had too much emotional baggage to maintain a good relationship. She blew out another sigh, aware of the noises of the other occupants.

She could never go to sleep unless it was dark, which she found odd because she hated the depth of the lightless blanket. Yet, unless it was dark this house didn't sleep. Donatello was working; she could hear him laying down various sized tools that emitted different sounds as they knocked against the wood surface of his desk. Raphael was in the dojo beating something, the fall of his fists or foot muffled by the item and turned into thick, small sounds fading within seconds before the new strike. Mikey was channel surfing, he gave little grunts of disapproval or interest at every click of the remote, a second or two of fizz filling in between whatever clip of noise-making show was scheduled for the half-hour.

And Leo, Leo just sat there. She could hear him clearest, though, because she had to concentrate to find his noises. The eldest ninja of the house was quiet, being respectful to his brothers, and sipping the tea. His sips were nearly silent as his green lips met the liquid and her ear flicked impatiently to hear something. He hardly moved in his seat, either, every minute or so she'd hear an exhale into the cup because it stirred the contents but other than that, he was mouse quiet. Once his cup was finished she could hear the odd sound of his tongue across his lip, probably the way he and his kind cleaned themselves after drinking, and she listened to the chair squeak as he stood.

Katana sheaths clacked together as he picked up his weapons and headed for the dojo. Only after he was gone did she fully rise from the floor and steal his chair. Out of habit she sniffed the chair, taking in his scent before she even considered fully stepping into the chair; the terrapin may be cold blooded by nature but there was a certain warmth still left in the groove and she would take it. Jezebelle purred at the softer texture of the chair and kneaded the arms for a second or two before collapsing into the center and curling up.

This was much better than a cage.

Tigger flexed his ears; bright brown eyes watching the figure pass the cage. The sight of the coat, the flawless hair, cold, cruel smile stirred rage in him, nothing else. Memories flashed of the gurney, the whirring saw, beeping monitors and the weeks of stitches and confined movements. He growled, stretching a thick arm through the bar and reaching as best he could, which wasn't far at all considering his wrist got caught. His son was led out by the thin coil of metal strapped to the end of the catching cane that enabled the figure to stay at a safe distance.

Where was he going? His son dragged a little; bright eyes sleepy and looking around in hazy wonderment like a child just out of a dream. The cub stood up on his back legs and nibbled his father's fuzzy finger through the cage. "Come on." until the wire gave a visible part to the fur of his neck the cub didn't move. His little claws scraped and clacked across the floor and Tigger watched the two leave.

Just what was going on? The whine of a buzz saw met his ears and Tigger roared out in anguish, masking a child's cry of utter pain. That bitch…he would kill her.

The snow had yet to fall and wouldn't for a few more weeks but the utter cold Jezebelle felt made it seem like it was snowing. Her claws scraped against the cold concrete of the rooftops, causing her to spin crookedly once or twice before she could launch to the next roof and she disliked the nearly paralyzing feeling of cold in the most intimate nerves of her claws. She wasn't trained for cold weather and had never been exposed to it during her stay in the hell-hole she'd finally escaped from. "You know what you remind me of?" Mikey didn't need to ask; Jezebelle pressed her ears back against her hair in a peeved manner. He'd been making clumsy cat jokes since midnight when the patrol began, and ten roofs later he still hadn't run out of comparisons. "That cat on Americas Funnies Videos that got scared by that bull mastiff and tried to run across polished linoleum."

"Hush or I'll take you off the roof with me." she warned, golden eyes narrowed at him. He blew a raspberry to her and skipped off across the gap. Jezebelle eyed the gap cautiously just like the ones before and backed up a few inches before running forward and leaping the gap. Leonardo thought it was oddly intriguing to see her leap into the air, looking to jump directly in the center of the large moon temporarily bathed in ethereal silver light. It turned her vanilla-similar kin a whitish-silver which washed the skin of her face the same color, and those yellow eyes that were now making a presence around the home turned a stunning golden.

The play of shadows and light often intrigued him. It was his lifestyle; to utilize both elements and to see how fluidly and suddenly people could disappear and reappear was always stunning, no matter who it was. Even the forms of his brothers astounded him when they darted in and out of darkness. "Hey…do you smell that?" she paused halfway across the rooftop and the turtle brothers, even Maeleyn, looked around curiously. Nothing out of the ordinary, even in the alleyway she was scrutinizing, sinking her claws as best she could into the concrete grooves of the building side and leaning over.

"I smell a cat." Jezebelle told them before giving her hind quarters a wiggle and jumping down to carefully navigate the garbage. Raphael rolled his eyes and resisted dragging her back up to the roof by her curling, lazily lashing tail. The last three trips like this had just rouse alley cats out and a small cat-based conversation happened before she trotted away to hook up with the group again.

"It's probably just another stupid alley cat." Raph warned her. Man he wanted someone to bash. The uy7777777

"It's probably just another stupid alley cat." Raph warned her. Man he wanted someone to bash. The night had been relatively dead. For most human in Manhattan it was getting too cold for night outings, and some were asleep by now. If Raph had to guess even the low-life criminals were hiding out and keeping their feet warm somewhere.

"Oh my god! Oh my—I don't believe it! Oh honey, mommy missed you!" Jezebelle quickly and happily returned with a dangling cub hanging by the extra fur at the back of its neck. Maeleyn's lips twitched in a smile. Jezebelle looked about as happy as a kid opening presents on Christmas day.

"Is this…your baby?" Donnie hesitated to get close to the newfound mutant but found it astounding the cub was alive. They had yet to learn how the two got separated and Don desperately wanted to know how the cub escaped since his mother had been thrown in the water. Maybe there was more than one exit for this new, functioning lab. He could see the clear tiger influence on the cub by the thickness of his orange fur and slight pattern markings; but he could see Jezebelle's influence, too, instead of a pure white stomach the cub had a vanilla-colored stomach. The brown of his eyes had a tinge of yellow, suggesting they might change as he grew older.

"Yes," Jezebelle grinned widely, still unable to believe it herself, "this is him. My Orion, my little Orion." he purred into her breasts, the mother crouched down on all fours and the cub tucked in between her arms.

"No offense," Mikey said nervously as he saw the cub yawn and glimpsed at the sharp teeth in his mouth, "but that kid's not little."

"I know, he's gotten much heavier than I remembered!" Jezebelle gushed, affectionately running her claws through the fur on his ears. He'd gained more fur than when she last saw him. "They must've given him an accelerant when they thought they killed me. They give it to all the separated babies as a means to keep them living. Some are given it so they can bypass the stage where they're dependent on the parent; it helps the experiments see those uncouth handlers as the primary caregiver instead."

"They who?" Don asked. Jezebelle continued to thread Orion's fur, causing the cub to purr, ears flicking to and fro in thought.

"The people…the handlers. The—" it was right there on the tip of her tongue! Who was it! Jezebelle felt like she knew the end of that sentence, and felt as if the words were almost in reach. "I…" began the mutant cat as she started to deny her confused mind and the turtles of knowing anything other than what she'd just said, but something stopped her. She had that feeling of seeing and feeling those words rise up again, like she was touching on a hidden memory.

Pawing nervously at the glace she paused to stare at her own reflection. They had really done it, hadn't they? That blonde bitch had warned her they could but Jezebelle still couldn't believe it. All the things she knew of science from school flew out the window at the sheer Frankenstein-like procedures these people did without a care. She had once been human, she remembered quite clearly, but the experiments they'd done had switched the very category she was once a part of from "homo sapien" to "animal".

Her nose hardly protruded from the side of her face when attempting to stare at her reflected profile and the texture of her skin was no longer real skin, but the illusion of skin. She had fur near the same color as her own human skin but this new skin was warmer…fuzzier. Beneath her naked body her heart pounded strongly like a hammer pounding in four-four, striking perfectly every beat. Jezebelle had made friends with what was left of the "neko" experiments and immediately (maybe as a reflex) warmed up to the biggest male cat they had, a tiger some whacko still living in the days of Winnie the Pooh named Tigger. Now she was confused, however, what was this large glass cage?

Why did it have normal-looking rooms around it? Why where those people dressed in lab coats not letting her out? Couldn't they see she was just like them, still very much aware of her own humanity, still human on the inside? The cage had been decorated with lush, green plants and moist, dark dirt; smells abound from the fake fruit sprayed with scents. It almost looked like a jungle…or it was a jungle replica more correctly, the temperature was warm and slightly sticky, like it should be.

After pawing at the glass for so long she quit, knowing no one would open the door. Instead she took to reading the backwards, large white words running across the width of the glass pane before her. "Mis…Miss-ell-us? Misellus Corporation. Property of Misellus Corporation." what a weird name for a company, and certainly a tongue twister! Jezebelle laid down drowsily in the moist dirt, stretching her naked, pale body out and sighing. Maybe they just wanted to make sure she could move after the past months of surgery and they'd leave her alone today.

To her surprise Tigger entered the room from a door she hadn't seen in the far right side of the room, near the upper right corner. She rolled quickly to all-fours, the position she'd been trained to take in her new cat body, and mewed to him curiously. The smell of raw testosterone hit her and jangled her nerves; she began backing up into the fake brush of the jungle environment. Now she understood. They weren't waiting to see how she felt. They were waiting to see how well she mated.

"Tigger, no! Tigger, listen to me! They have you hopped up, you're not yourself." hoping to stop his advancing she mewed to him in her cat voice when human language failed to work. Cat speech didn't work either. He was a powerful, thick, animal and she cried and screamed every second of it. His warm breath, parted lips, and sharp teeth made her feel even more uncomfortable than she already was – Jezebelle felt centimeters from death. The size of her mate was something else contributing to the fear of dying; she felt like she'd be crushed before he was even close to being done.

I'll remember that name, Misellus Corp, she swore as she looked to the line of humans not bothering to help her, save her, while they took notes, a head of blonde hair brighter than the other ordinary colors of the humans' hair. Jezebelle was in so much pain…even for a changed body a still human-apparent body was never made for the girth of a tiger's member. The tears continued to roll down her cheeks. I'll never trust another human as long as I live! she screamed in her head, unable to keep the cries of pain at bay anymore, though they weren't heard over the deafening, satisfied cry of the male that ejaculated inside of her.

"Misellus Corp. Property of Misellus Corp. But I'm not…I'm not property. I'm human. I'm human. I'm human just like you but you won't look at me because you're doodling on your stupid clipboards. I'm human I'm not supposed to be in here. I'm hu—"

"Jezebelle?" she jumped nearly a foot high when Donnie even took a step towards her, like she'd forgotten she came with them. Her eyes were wide and glossy.

"I'm human." repeated the ex-experiment while pressing her ears low to her head and backing up. "I'm human." Don took another step forward, not trying to scare her, but trying to warn her that she was steadily stepping away and off the building.

"I think she thinks you're one of the handlers, Donnie," Maeleyn attempted to interpret. It was startling, really, to see her mood change that fast. She felt bad for her friend, and wondered just what it was she was seeing that would have her afraid of Donatello, the pacifist turtle. One second she was happy and rejoicing over her son, nibbling on him affectionately like a cat and caressing him like a human, and now she was this huddling, stuttering mess steadily backing herself up to what could be death if she fell wrong. Jezebelle had pushed her body so low to the point where her chin was scraping the bare ground and she couldn't even tell, caught up in that nightmare world of hers.

Leo didn't think, he just grabbed. The second he saw here back leg slip off the edge of the building, and the fraction of breaking away from the nightmare in her eyes he grabbed her. He knew she wouldn't try to maim him, or think him evil. She, herself, was probably trying to figure out why she was seconds from tumbling backwards off a building to possible death. Leonardo gave a small cry of anguish as Orion sank his teeth deep as they could go into his wrist; at nearly the same time Jezebelle wrapped her left hand, the free hand, strongly around his right arm, digging her nails into it.

He hauled her up, arm afire with pain. Leonardo blinked back the tears and looked at her raised fur; the reflex made her lose her human shape for a second or two and made her this big puff. Did he just see lights blink? Normally that wouldn't be such a thing to focus on as signs alternated with patterns and such but this was basically the slum area; signs didn't really show up here…and yet he saw lights. One flick and two blinks…like a pair of car lights. The burning in his arm and the smell of iron convinced Leo to tear his eyes away from the undeniably dark, black spot he'd sworn he'd seen lights at.

Blood dripped on the ground from the wound Orion caused, and Leo felt his arm twitch in slight spurts of pain. "We're done patrolling for the night. Let's get home." for once Raph didn't bother him, and he could tell his little brother was eyeing the blood on his hand. Leo felt unsettled. He knew those lights he saw were real, and they didn't look as random as one would suspect…at least…not to him. Something was going on.

"Hey…boss? You there?" the arm hung slightly out the old truck's front driver window, adjusting itself comfortably on the windowless opening. The male glanced curiously at his dyed-green hair and swallowed before re-gripping the cell phone in his gloved hand. Just like the boss thought, that cat met up with those freaky frogs. After the remaining Purple Dragons had swapped stories with their new leader, their old one gone, he had a hunch that this allegedly escaped "pussy" was out and about with the local heroes.

"What Johnny? What do you want?" the voice stressed in the usual monotone it held. "This better be good, I'm with my co-owner." the Purple Dragon still wasn't quite sure what or who his clan leader's "co-owner" was. He knew it was a business term and the boss used it instead of "coworker" but that was about it. Sometimes gifts were given to the name signed by "co-owner" but they often thought little of it; a gift was a gift, and the same went for him putting extra thought into it.

"I think I just saw her…that missing experiment chick? You know, the one you call 'pussy'?"

"Oh really now? Hey, he found her. You were right, she hasn't left Manhattan." said the boss to his co-owner, away from the mouthpiece of the phone.

"A-and I've given the signal to Devin. They're getting away, leaving somewhere, I don't know where."

"You did well; we'll mark it on the map. She's liable to return there. Go home."

"Thank you sir." Johnny cut the line and blew out a sigh, playing his fingers along the steering wheel. He hadn't seen "Shadow" but a couple of times, and that was usually only for direct orders, or to tell him he was doing a stakeout…again. Now he could say he'd gotten a phone call from the infamous Shadow, and that he sounded just as scary over the phone as he did in person.

He flipped the phone shut. "That was Johnny," Shadow told the woman beside him with a smile. She gave a sultry, low hum of amusement and kissed his lips crookedly. "He said he's found her." flicking blonde hair off his bare shoulder he looked at her body wrapped in the blood red satin of his bed. She looked delectable, sinful, and could easily be Miranda's twin if not for the metal hand she cared not to cover up.

Shadow was beginning to think her striking similarity to Miranda is what got him into this. Thinking with his dick and not his brain. She was a siren glistening with the waters of vengeance, and the more she told him of these terrapins, and what they'd done to her lover, her work, the more he hated them, too. He found only more of a reason to hate them when it was confirmed Jezebelle was alive, had eluded his Miranda-fake, and could give at least him a death sentence if she ever ran into anyone that mattered in court. Those turtles stood between him—them—and "happily ever after", so they had to be eliminated.

"Where are you going?" unashamed of her exposed bosom which caught his eye as she flexed and half-rolled in the sheets to watch him dig through a closet installed in the room to get dressed. He smiled at her.

"I have a plane to catch. Going to Rhode Island."

"I see." the blonde pulled the covers up to her chest. "Is she going to cooperate?"

"If she doesn't want child services to take her kid away she will," said Shadow matter-of-factly. What Miranda had done could remove more than just her child. It could kill her marriage, or even put her in prison. He found that leverage enough for her to obey. The blonde smiled cattily at her co-owner. How clever he was.

"Let me know how it goes!" she called after him as he fixed his tie, heading down the hall to the front door of her house. It was coming along nicely.