Chapter 2 -What Could Go Wrong?-
Last night's failed attempt left her feeling frustrated, but now she had more urgent matters to attend to. She wandered down the alley, thinking vaguely of searching a dumpster for food. Her stomach turned over at the thought. Only a year ago, she'd dined every evening in one of the best night-clubs in town. Now she was invisible, wandering the streets, scraping by day by day, just to stay alive.
"Hey, Sylvia!" She turned, startled. White teeth flashed, and she returned the smile, her heartbeat slowing to normal. Jeremy straightened from behind the cardboard box. He came to her, his feet almost as silent as her own on the pavement. He was learning quickly.
"Sylvia, I found someplace we can get somethin' to sell, so we can eat. But I need you to help me. Come on." He caught her hand, dragging her down the alley.
***
"You don't think Don was acting kinda' weird last night?" Raphael crouched beside his brother on the rooftop, his eyes scanning the streets below. Leonardo didn't look at him.
"Well, he's been working pretty hard lately. I think sewer-skating was a great way for him to let off steam." The blue-masked turtle stood up, indicating his readiness to keep moving.
"Leo…"
"Raph, look at it this way. Donatello kept Michelangelo occupied for almost three hours. Mike was worn out when they got back. He even went to bed last night before the Late, Late Show. Didn't you notice how much more focused he was in training this morning? And he didn't pull one prank all day today. Don did us both a favor. Don't question it, ok?"
"Whatever you say, 'Fearless Leader'." For once, Raphael was grinning. A distinct lack in Michelangelo's boundless, and often annoying, energy had put him in a good mood. Leonardo didn't bother answering. He got a running start, and cleared the gap between the rooftops effortlessly. "Show-off," muttered Raphael. He picked up the pace. Time to show 'Fearless' who the real leader was. At least in a roof-top foot race.
***
"Come on, Sylvia. See, I told you this would be easy. It's not like you've gotta hyp-o-tyze a human. It's just a dog. We can sell this stuff at the pawnshop. Ol' Tom likes you. He'll give you a good price, and we can buy food for a change, insteada havin' to steal it."
Sylvia shook her head at her young friend's logic, but her stomach rumbled, reminding her of their need. Jeremy's coat barely covered his bony wrists, and his cheeks had the sunken, hollow look of a child who hasn't had regular meals in a long while. With a sigh, she glanced around, checking the deserted street once more as he picked the lock on the wooden door. It gave way with a quiet click.
Sylvia heard the growl before she saw the dog's eyes glowing in the dim light from the alley. "Easy there, big fella," her thoughts whispered. "We're friends." The dog whined softly, and came closer, uncertain. "That's it, boy. Come on…"
She imagined a gentle scratching sensation behind her own ears. The dog's tongue lolled out, and he sat down, leaning his huge head against her leg. She carefully rubbed his ears.
"Wow," Jeremy breathed, his eyes wide as saucers. "Sylvia, you are somethin' else, you know. You really are amazin'. Like, you should be on Saturday Night Live or somethin'." Sylvia shook her head sadly. "I know you don't like stealin', Syl, but we gotta eat. Hang on, I'll get the case open, and we can clean this place out."
***
"Mikey, slow down! Donatello was beginning to regret saying he'd patrol with his youngest brother.
"Aww, come on, Don. Race ya to the office building on 3rd and West! Wooooo-hoo!" Michelangelo raced ahead, leaping to the next roof top.
"Hey, Michelangelo, wait a minute…" called Don. He didn't have to say it twice. Michelangelo had stopped on the edge of the building. He ducked down, and was peering over the edge, the race forgotten.
"Shhh. Dude, check this out," he whispered as Donatello knelt beside him.
"Uh-oh. Isn't that Brinkman's Jewelers?" asked Donatello, staring at the black square where a wooden side-door should have been firmly closed and locked for the night.
"Sure is. Looks like Brinkman's getting an unexpected visit," whispered Michelangelo. "Whatdaya say we check it out?"
"Mikey, wait, maybe we should call the guys…"
"Aw, come on, Don, we can handle it. Let's scope it out." Michelangelo was half-way down the fire escape before Donatello could get the shell-cell out of his belt.
"Wait…" It was too late. Michelangelo dropped to the ground and slipped, silent, over to the open door.
***
Sylvia touched Jeremy's shoulder. He looked at her, and she shook her head vigorously. At her feet, the dog growled low in his throat. Jeremy glanced at the dog and swallowed hard.
"Ok, ok, I'll just get a few of the rings and stuff. Geesh." Sylvia nodded. The jeweler had to make a living too. She wasn't about to wipe out his entire stock.
Jeremy muttered to himself as he fiddled with the lock on the jewel case. "Doesn't make any sense… we could be rich…"
"Well, well, what's this? I don't think you two are from the cleaning service." The voice made them all start violently.
The dog crouched, growling, confused by the sudden burst of emotions from the girl.
"Sylvia, run!" shouted Jeremy, stuffing his precious lock-picks into one of his coat's numerous pockets. He grabbed her hand, pulling her deeper into the dark. Their escape route was blocked by a short, wide man.
Shadow hid his form, but Sylvia could see his shape outlined for a moment in the doorway. He was bulky, as if he were carrying a huge pack on his back, shaped rather like… she gasped, a turtle shell. Jeremy pulled her through the store, dodging around the counters. "Sylvia, do your thing. You know… distract him. So we can get outta here," hissed Jeremy.
Sylvia nodded, gathering her focus. It's a big dog, she projected. Big and angry. And the kids were just fooling around… they didn't steal anything… you don't need to bother with them… watch out for the dog…
Michelangelo backed away from the German Shepherd. He'd always liked animals, but this dog had some mondo teeth! As if to emphasize the point, the dog snarled, showing them in all their glory.
"Nice doggy," squeaked Michelangelo.
***
"Leo, look!" Raphael stopped short, skidding to a halt. He nearly fell as he doubled back to glare down into the alley below. A woman's shriek cut clearly through the night air.
Leonardo nearly crashed into his brother. "Raph! A little warning next time you change directions, huh?" he grumbled. Raphael didn't answer. Leonardo looked up. Raphael was gone. Leonardo sighed, and looked over the edge of the building. Sure enough, his keen eyes caught a glimmer off Raphael's sai as he moved through the shadows of the alley toward a group of black-clad warriors who stood in a loose circle around a young couple.
"Foot." Leonardo hissed the hated name, and cursed his brother's impetuous nature as he slipped down the fire escape, unnoticed by the terrified couple and the group of ninjas menacing them. Don't bother waiting, Raph, he thought as he dropped down behind a dumpster. Don't stop and think that for once it might be nice to go into a battle with a plan or a strategy.
"I t'ink you'd better leave dem alone," Raph's voice grated out of the dark. Leonardo almost smiled. You had to admire the guy's guts and his sense of drama. Raphael stood just outside the glow of the streetlight, letting the harsh shadows of the building fall across his face, at once hiding his mutant shape and adding an air of mystery and menace to his stature. Several of the closer Foot backed away.
"Mind your own business, turtle. This does not concern you," hissed one of the ninjas, obviously the leader, stepping forward. The woman hid her face in the man's shoulder. Leonardo heard a wretched, muffled sob from her. Anger burned in him. Why did the Foot insist on attacking innocents? For a few dollars from their wallets? For the simple thrill of seeing their fear, enjoying their pain?
"I'm makin' it my business," snarled Raphael, twirling his sais. "Seein's how you're the ugliest guy here, why don't I deal with you first?" The leader attacked with a shout, and was down before Leonardo could blink. Raphael was a blur of green and red, kicking and slashing with the sais, but there were easily twenty Foot. They were threatening to overwhelm him by sheer numbers. Leonardo held back, letting Raph work some of his manically angry magic, before he saw his brother go down.
"Little help, Leo?" shouted Raphael from the ground.
"Turtles fight with honor!" cried Leonardo, descending on the fight like an avenging angel. The Foot ninjas were startled by the green whirlwind that flew at them, katanas blazing. The fight had seemed like an easy opportunity to get rid of one of the bothersome turtles. Now the odds had changed. One turtle could, perhaps, be overwhelmed, and taken down with but a few losses. Two, fighting side by side, were a worthy challenge. Raphael found his feet under him once again, and grinned, swinging around for a flying kick. With his brother by his side, what could go wrong?
***