Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I've updated. Thank you to all of you for reading, liking, following and leaving reviews to this story. It all means so much! Be sure to check out other stories on my profile page, including my collaborative story with Faithful Whispers, titled 'Consuming Darkness'.
Thanks a bunch to Faithful Whispers for beta reading this chapter for me. Hope you all enjoy! Leave a review and let me know what you think!
Casey Jones was bored out of his skull. Nothing was happening on the streets tonight. No muggings, no robberies, not even any gang activity. An absolute snore-fest.
God, this is like watching ugly paint dry, he thought sullenly as he popped the tab of another Cola. Taking a healthy swallow of the fizzy beverage, he wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve and scowled into the darkness.
It was impossible to get a hold of Raph these days. While he and the guys were busy trying to track down the nut job who was killing girls all over Midtown, Casey was stuck on the sidelines… again. It was just like when the whole invasion thing happened. They had just left him behind, even though he could have helped, and probably could have kicked his share of ass while saving the world.
But no; Leo, being the stuck-up asshat that he was, had insisted that they could take care of it. It's not like the guy they were after hadn't already killed seven girls or anything. What really ground his gears was how quickly Raph had agreed with him. Raph was his best friend, after all. He should be sticking up for him, not shutting him down! He was really starting to get sick of this shit; that was for damn sure. Finishing off his drink with a giant gulp, Casey crushed the empty can against the metal plate in his head before tossing it into the dumpster below.
Man, this blows… He wanted to be out there with the turtles, kicking ass and taking names. Instead, he was sitting on a fire escape landing, staring up at the starless, slightly smoggy sky. He might as well go home. Even trig homework seemed more exciting than sitting on his ass in the middle of the night. He stretched lazily, hoping that something would happen to save him from the going off his rocker.
"No, get away from me!"
He looked up, surprised by a woman's frantic tone, below and not too far away. There was a metallic crash, followed by a terrified scream.
Oh yeah. This looks like a job for Casey Jones. Pushing his mask over his face, he climbed down the fire escape and hopped into the alley. Engaging his roller skates, he sped around the corner and skidded to a stop. His eyes widened under his mask as he stared at the scene before him.
There was a tall guy dressed in a trench coat and fedora, standing over the cowering figure of a woman between a couple of dumpsters. She ducked down, covering her head with her hands as she screamed loudly at her attacker.
"No! No, please, don't-"
"Hey!"
The figure's head snapped up, turning sharply in his direction. Casey saw a pair of bright red eyes leering at him from under the brim of the fedora. The eyes of a demon. They really gave him the creeps as Casey fought the chills that crept down his spine.
"Hands off her, creep!" he drew his hockey stick and gripped it tightly in both hands, "Or you will be dealing with Casey Jones!"
"Scram, kid," the figure said, his voice low and gravelly, "I don't have time to deal with you tonight."
"That's just too damn bad, dirt bag!" Casey swung at an empty tin can next to him, sending it flying towards him. he can was knocked aside by a quick slice of the creep's hand so quickly, Casey barely saw the movement. He stood up slowly, looming even from a distance.
The sobbing girl struggled to her feet and scurried away, not even looking back. The guy in the trench coat turned slightly after her as she disappeared into the darkness. He looked back at Casey with a snarl.
"You're going to pay for that, you little shit."
"Bring it, you fucking pervert!" Casey retorted as he smacked his hockey stick against the pavement, preparing himself for battle. The creep chuckled low in his throat, the sound mocking and humorless.
Casey growled and charged forward, his skates clacking loudly against the pavement. Slicing with both hands, he swung it at the guy's neck. The guy ducked at the last second and thrust the heel of his hand into the middle of Casey's chest. The force of the strike propelled him backwards and he lost his grip on the hockey stick. It clattered loudly as it slid under one of the graffitied dumpsters, completely out of reach. Landing flat on his ass, he coughed hard as he tried to catch the breath that had been knocked from him.
Casey struggled to his feet, having trouble getting the wheels of his skates to find any traction. He was really pissed now. Swinging hockey stick in a wide arc, he launched three of his hockey puck explosives at the creep. He ducked into the shadows, followed closely by the explosives. After a few seconds, the explosives detonated, one after the other. The flash from the detonations illuminated the alley for a fraction of a second, making the outline of the the guy clear. He had turned his back to Casey, hunching over to avoid the blinding light. Now was his chance to stop this son of a bitch once and for all.
Spurring himself forward, Casey skated toward him, pulling his baseball bat off his back.
"Goongala!"
Casey swung the bat at his head with all of his strength. It passed through midair, striking the opposite brick wall. The impact jarred his arms, causing him to drop the bat. The figure punched him in the sternum, then across his jaw as he doubled over. Casey dropped to his knees, holding his face as he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Goddamn, the guy's strong. Think he chipped a tooth or somethin'. His eyes widened at the unmistakable sound of his baseball bat being picked up and he looked up at the guy standing over him. The creep gripped the bat solidly with both hands and wound up like he was about to hit a grand slam.
Suddenly, a blinding explosion of red and blue light illuminated the alley, followed by the squawk of a siren.
"Freeze! Police!" a gruff voice commanded.
Casey turned and looked up into the barrel of a patrolman's gun. He looked around him rapidly, but the creep was gone, vanished into thin air. All that remained of him was the discarded baseball bat.
"Put your hands up," the officer ordered sternly as he tightened his grip on the gun.
"But-"
"Do not make me shoot you, boy!"
Casey slowly raised his hands up in the air, his eyes fixed on the gun in his face.
"Stand up," the policeman ordered tersely, jerking the barrel upward once.
Casey rose to his feet, careful to his hands in view.
"Turn around slowly and put your hands on the wall."
Turning slowly, he turned and pressed his palms against the bricks. He heard the officer approach carefully and felt him patting him down, looking for weapons. Oh shit… he was carrying a couple of knives, not to mention the hockey puck bombs in his belt and the taser concealed in his glove. His dad was going to kill- no, destroy him. The two blades were absconded quickly, as well as the remainder of the bombs and the thick gloves. The officer clucked his tongue disapprovingly, making Casey flush in spite of himself.
"I'm going to have to take you in," the officer said, slapping a cuff on Casey's right wrist. The vigilante's eyes widened as the man brought his hands behind his back and fastened the other cuff on his left wrist.
"What for? I didn't do nothin'!" Casey protested loudly, swiveling his head around toward the policeman. The man looked back at him, unimpressed.
"You were found at the scene of an assault with a series of illegal weapons on your person. We need to ask you a few questions, son."
"This is bullshit, man!" Casey struggled slightly as the officer led him to the squad car blocking the alley entrance. The officer ignored him as he opened the door and helped Casey inside.
"I know my rights, man! I'm entitled to a phone call!" he complained as the policeman shut the door in his face. He turned away from the car and strode purposefully up the sidewalk.
"Hey! I ain't done talkin' to you man!"
Casey adjusted himself on the seat, leaning as far back as he was able to peer out the back window. The officer who had arrested him was joined by a woman cop, who was silently escorting a small dark girl with a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and uncertain as she cast short tentative glances towards the squad car where Casey sat. He wanted to appeal to her, plead with her to tell the officers that he was innocent, but he knew that it was a waste of his time.
The officers talked to the girl for a few moments, their words muffled by the glass windows. She shuddered and nodded once, closing her eyes. The woman cop gestured kindly toward a second police car that had just pulled up and led the girl toward it.
The driver's side door opened and the policeman settled behind the wheel before turning back to address Casey.
"We'll be calling your folks when we get to the station, okay?"
Casey nodded sullenly, staring at the carpet between his sneakers. He was a dead man walking, so what was the point of saying any more?
He stared out the window for a long minute as the squad car pulled away from the curb. Something was bugging him about the whole thing. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but something was off in a big way. It wasn't that the guy was going to kill that girl. Shit like that happened in the city every day, and she had been one of the lucky ones. It was the guy himself. He couldn't see the guy's face, but something about him was definitely familiar.
The way he fought… Casey had definitely seen those moves. Also, the way the guy carried himself rung a bell. But where had he seen those things before?
Maybe Hun had gone off the deep end? No, he definitely would have known if it was him. He'd had his ass kicked by that guy too often. Maybe one of the Purple Dragons? Nah… those bastards couldn't fight their way out of a wet paper bag and this guy had overpowered him way too easily to be one of them.
No, he couldn't have known that guy. He would have remembered those burning red eyes. The malice and hate that had resonated from those eyes were permanently burned into his memory. Casey shuddered involuntarily.
He sighed and leaned his head against the glass, resigning himself to the fact that he was in really deep shit this time. When the cops got a hold of his dad, there probably wasn't going to be much of Casey Jones to blame for all this.