WARNING: The following contains an implicitly mature scene that may be disturbing to some readers.
It had been maybe a month since Mikey's little talk with him, and Mikey hadn't been much for conversation since. Can't say I blame 'im. Anything that could be even remotely dubbed 'story time' usually didn't go over well in our family. The quiet that had surrounded them was startin' to get annoying, so I'd decided to do a light patrol run. Sensei'd been wary about lettin' us out of sight since everyone's 'vacation,' but I didn't think I'd be gone long enough to worry 'im too much.
The freedom of the night was something I'd really missed. Choking on the city smog, scrapin' up my feet on the concrete and metal of the rooftops, free fallin' into dark crevices that hid the crooks and crooked….
I breathed in. It was exhilarating.
The calm wind stirred up around me and carried with it stranger's voices. I looked over the edge of the building and into the neighboring alleyway where a man and a woman were arguing in a foreign tongue. Neither were...covered properly, and I struggled to keep my eyes on their feet and only on their feet. Eventually, whatever the disagreement had been over, it was settled, and the man grabbed his pile of clothes and trudged off. I could feel the twang of sadness in my chest as the girl dressed herself. She didn't look like she was old enough to buy the cigarette she was smokin'.
I had dropped into the alley before I was completely aware of my movements. I didn't know what I planned on doin', but I knew that if it was in my power, she was gonna be done with this work tonight. A faint tingling of instinct was drumming a groove into the base of my skull as I reached out an arm…
...and was clouted soundly on the head for my trouble.
"Don't you dare touch her," a hot voice hissed. "Don't you dare."
I was so startled at the low threat rumblin' from his throat that I was a second too late in noticin' him going for mine. His eyes were blank and angry and just...wrong. And I was dead certain I never wanted to see my brother this pissed again. Ever.
He had dragged me further into the niche at the back of the narrow space before I overcame my surprise. "Whassup...wit you…" I could barely get the words out around the pressure on my windpipe.
He jerked back as though I'd struck 'im, and I took advantage of his shock to do so. "What's the matter with you?" I demanded again and winced. He'd had a good grip on my neck. I could feel some bruises forming.
He saw the imprints of his hands and blanched. "Ototo…"
I sighed and kept a tight hold on his shoulder to keep 'im from runnin' off. His breaths started comin' fast and heavy and culminated in his dinner on the ground and my feet. Gross. I just patted his back and waited for the story to come, not knowin' that I'd feel like vomiting myself as he told it.
He'd told us the high points...er, most significant points of his misadventure in time, but we were all pretty sure he'd been keepin' a lot more to himself. His run-in with Mikey had proven that much.
He wiped his mouth and slowly rasped out his narrative.
He casually leaned against a broken streetlamp, cocking his head at passersby. The trench kept the bulk of his body hidden, and the worn fedora left only his eyes exposed to the night air. A curvy young woman strolled alluringly past, subtly glancing back over her shoulder to appraise his physique. She seemed pleased at the mutually appreciative gaze, and I admit I stared more than I should have. She was...dressed for attention. Each must have seen something they liked, for the coy smile he offered brought her to his side with a greeting peck on the cheek. She tugged at one of his hands. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly and let himself be led into a narrow alley that forced her right into his personal space.
His hand slowly snaked itself around her waist, and he nipped at her ear. In reply, her mouth turned to his without hesitation, and he roughly pushed her against the wall. As he kissed her, his hand stroked her waist. The sensation made her laugh and dance into a position he liked. Long legs peaked out from the short skirt, but strangely enough, the angle she was standing at only gave him a good view of her limbs and her face. He didn't seem to notice what he was missing. Her lips crept from the corner of his mouth down his neck and out to a shoulder. She walked her fingers across the nape of his neck, and a slight shiver shook him. A soft sigh reached my ears as he lifted his head...
…and saw me before I could duck out of sight.
His eyes tightened a but as I moved to scale down the wall. He tucked the girl into himself long enough to flash a series of gestures at me. The first was just plain rude, but the rest warned me back to the camp. I copied the initial signs to let him know what I thought of that. He scowled but turned his attentions back to his would-be inamorata, whose stealthy hands slipped inside the trench.
He let his gaze soften immediately, but I could tell from the tightness in his shoulders that his thoughts lay on me. The woman gasped around a rough mouth and the sudden press of his body. He had her arms pinned above her, causing the windbreaker she wore to fly open and uncover a scrap of cloth that barely passed for a shirt. She wriggled uncomfortably at the weight, and I felt my blood pressure skyrocket.
And then he pulled out his blade. Brandishing the steel almost happily, he knocked his knee against her inner thighs. The weapon scratched at the wall behind her head as she obediently widened her stance. The girl paled visibly as the knife caressed her neck and breasts, slithered past her navel and down her legs. A sick smile graced his face, and he lifted the skirt and whistled lowly at the thin black lace beneath.
How dare you touch a woman like that? I nearly screamed at him. Did our father's teachings mean so little to you?
As if reading my thoughts, he flicked his eyes briefly to mine again then pulled his captive deeper into the alley. I swore. The rooftops ran adjacent to the passageway but were covered with vents and towers and broken glass. Warily treading through the maze meant I lost them almost immediately, something he had counted on. I could hear a vague protest echoing off the walls, but it took me several minutes to track them to a dilapidated apartment building. The fire escape looked like it could fall at any moment, but it was the only vantage point I could find. A light gasp fell from the sky, followed by the sharp thump of a door closing.
I peered into the second story room that the sounds seemed to come from. The first thing I saw was a thick wad of cash in his fist. He waved it at the girl almost threateningly. Her glower took on a light of resignation, but those bright green eyes still managed to be enticing in the moonlight. The roll of bills was carelessly tossed on the couch.
The strumpet eased her jacket off her back and began to work her fingers around the buttons of her blouse. His face had settled into an indifferent stare that occasionally slid along her curves. I jerked back when he motioned to me, again ordering me back to the camp. Again, I refused, and his frown grew. The deep collar of her shirt had been worked back to a nearly inappropriate angle before he reached for the hem.
It was probably the only time I'd seriously considered harming one of my brothers.
He held a hand up to stop the strangled protests in my throat before gently tucking the shirt back to its rightful spot. If I looked stunned, the girl was stupefied.
"If I wanted what you're sellin', I'd be after an experienced vendor with a little more meat on 'er bones," he chuckled gruffly.
Her expression was some mix of relief and offense, and she crossed her arms in a silent demand for explanation. He met her gaze evenly. "How old're you, fourteen? Maybe?"
She shrugged noncommittally.
"Well, look. You wanna live to be fifteen, listen to me and get off the streets. Outta the city, if ya can."
"Why?" She challenged as she drew herself up to her full height. "Ain't like you're my dad."
"No, but I'm tryin' ta be your friend." He snapped. A small rubber band appeared around one of his fingers, and as he spoke, he tried coaxing her red curls into a loose bun. "Listen to me: you're pretty, girl. And it ain't gonna be long 'fore one of your clients notices and decides that the Foot might need ta know just how pretty, get me?"
Some of her freckles had vanished at the mention of the Foot, but I had to give her credit for recovering well. "So now what?"
In answer, he dropped a bundle of clothes in her arms and shooed her off to a secluded corner to change. "Ain't my place to tell you or anyone else what ta do. But I'm not gonna watch you destroy your life without tryin' to warn you about what you're gettin' into." He whipped a lighter and a cigarette out of his pocket, averting his eyes when pieces of clothing began hitting the floor and looking a greater deal shyer than he had before. "That little show I put on for ya was a best case scenario."
"Well...thanks, I guess." She came around the corner, appropriately covered in ripped jeans and a black t-shirt. Her eyes landed on the money. He snorted at the blush that rose in her face and tossed it at her. "Whaa…?"
"Got no use for it where I'm going."
A curious spark glinted in her eye, but she said nothing. He patted her arm and gave her a knife. "Stay out of trouble, girl."
"Melanie."
"Melanie, then. See ya 'round." He paused as he thought about the implications of that phrase and amended, "But don't lemme catch you out here again, 'kay?"
And then we were gone. He wait until we were tucked safely on the roof and Melanie's red locks had bounced down the street before unleashing his fury on me. I caught a nasty left hook with my jaw.
"I told you to scram!"
"Excuse me for not knowing Raphael's Nightly Reform School for Hookers was in session!"
His look shot daggers at me, but he made a visible effort to reign in his emotion. And abruptly, all the tension drained out of him. He sighed. "Look, these girls need to be given at least one crack at as normal a life they might get in this hellhole. I can usu'ly get 'em before someone else, but I do hafta play along. They don't trust help offered outright."
I twisted my eyes up to him. "Is that the farthest you go?"
His silence was all the answer I needed, and I backed away from him in disgust. We stood in silence for a few minutes.
"Do...do any of them take it?" I ventured carefully, not knowing if I was overstepping my bounds.
"Some of 'em do. The shy ones'll usually book first chance they get. The stubborn ones almost always end up dead or imprisoned."
"So what does that mean for Melanie?"
He coughed into the smog. "She's spunky. The spunky ones that made it this far on their own are usu'ly alright. Lot of them'll turn up at the camp at some point or other."
And he was right. The spunky little redhead was found just outside the base a couple days later, torn and violated and desperately clutching a few bills and what was left of the black tee.
I was too wrapped up in the horrified thoughts of exactly what he'd gone through to realize the story had run its course. He stepped back and studied the city from our hidin' spot, keepin' concerned eyes on the ladies of the evening.
"So...um, what happened to 'er? Ta Melanie?"
He shrugged but his eyes darkened. "They took her to the infirmary."
"Oh."
Wasn't like there was much else to say, and suddenly I was itchin' to get back underground and into the relative safety of my room. The tender skin of my neck was swelling anyway, so I locked my hand around his wrist to pull 'im along.
He resisted. "If...if you don't mind, I'm...going to stay here for a bit. Gotta work some things out."
"Uh, sure. Do whatcha need."
He didn't get back home 'til almost dawn, and he didn't look any calmer than when I'd left him. But as he passed the couch where I'd crashed with an ice pack, he whispered, "Arigato, ototo."
I dropped all pretense of sleep and eyed 'im. "For what?"
"Caring."
A/N: Was just wondering about the transitions...am I switching narrative POVs correctly? Like, Raph sounds like Raph, Don sounds like Don? I tend to write these things straight through, and I'm wondering if sometimes the previous POV carries over to the next for a few sentences.
What do y'all think so far? Sound like something that could have happened?