*I have been waiting for this moment since the beginning of Watchmen, and a description truly doesn't do this girl justice. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and that's definitely true in her case. Look up my Facebook account under "Sarah Ochsenbein" if you'd like to meet Jazz properly.
"Jazz" Stewart could recall screaming several times in her life, both from elation and from anger. But she'd never before experienced fear that caused her larynx to feel like it was being torn out of her throat from the violence with which she shrieked at the top of her lungs.
The crash that had come from down the hall had caught the young woman's attention, drawing her away from the guilty pleasure she'd been enjoying in using the forbidden computer. It was for that reason that she didn't mind letting the rest of the cleaning crew take a longer break, while she continued to "work" on her own.
When she'd heard the bang Jazz had expected to find a member of her team who'd forgotten something, or God forbid caught on to the fact that she enjoyed jumping on the computers in any building they were cleaning at the first opportunity.
What Jazz had found outside the door was so shocking that she immediately froze up. The green-faced stranger that stared back at her looked just as surprised to see her, though she didn't feel like he had that right. She'd still been trying to wrap her head around the apparition when two more appeared that looked like the first.
When the red-masked one spoke, it sent the young woman hurtling over the edge of all the reason to which she'd been clinging. A loud cry had leaped to her mouth before she even took time to think about it.
"Aw, shell; she's a screamer." The speaker seemed to be under the impression that she was the one who didn't belong here.
Jazz suddenly remembered that she was capable of moving, and backpedaled into the office she'd just exited, slamming the door behind her. When she reached for the doorknob, the young woman immediately cursed. The door wouldn't lock without a key, and she'd left hers on the cart down the hall.
Jazz pressed up against the door, as though she had some kind of hope of being able to keep the others out of the room until help could arrive. With shaky hands she searched for her cell phone which should have been inside her pocket, as she continued wedging herself against the door. Before she could locate the phone in her frazzled state, the door was pushing inward against her weight.
"No!" she yelled uselessly. "Leave me alone! Take whatever you want, and get out!"
The door was ripped from her grasp, and Jazz backed up a second time, running into the large desk. She was still searching her deepest pocket for her phone when a man and an Asian woman appeared at the doorframe. She was relieved to see the humans instead of the strange creatures, but she could still hear other voices in the hall, including the heavy accent that was going to haunt her nightmares for years to come.
Another scream bubbled up inside her throat as the man and woman blocked the doorway with concerned expressions plastered across their faces. I know what that look is for! It's the "how are we supposed to get rid of her quietly" look!
The man held up his arms in what appeared to be surrender, but all the motion did was reveal the firearm holstered under his jacket. "Hold on," he urged as he took another step into the room. "Hold on just a second. We're not going to hurt you! Please don't scream again."
Well, since you asked so nicely—"Stay away from me!" she shouted more hoarsely than before. Her fingers had finally closed around her cell phone, and she jerked it out of her pocket without thinking.
"No!" the man insisted, darting toward her.
Jazz threw an arm over her face as she expected an attack, but all the stranger did was take the phone out of her other hand.
"Listen," he said emphatically. "Listen to me! We're not going to hurt you. I'll even give you your phone back, but not yet. If you yell again, I'm going to have to gag you. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" she asked incredulously. "What are you doing here? What do you want?"
"We don't want you," the Asian woman spoke up behind him. "We didn't realize that you were here, else we would not have come."
"Those, those things-" Jazz stumbled.
"They're not things," the man interrupted firmly. "And you never saw them."
He grasped her wrist tightly as he emphasized his point and Jazz whimpered reflexively.
"Greg-chan," the other woman's voice cut through her fear. "Don't. This girl is not our enemy. She's innocent."
"Maybe she is," he allowed. "But we can't let her call the cops down on this place with the guys inside. Speaking of which…"
The man walked across the room back toward the hall, tugging Jazz along with him. "What are you still doing here, Leo? I told you to get moving!"
She caught her breath as her captor addressed the creatures, and the one in blue folded his arms defiantly.
"It's a little late for that, isn't it? She's not going to forget we were here just because we disappear. We have to get this done, Greg! Now that she's seen us, we probably won't get another chance!" The hard look in the speaker's eyes indicated that he wasn't accustomed to taking orders from someone else. The authority in his tone suggested he was more apt to be giving them.
"Well then you guys are going to have to watch her so that Sayuri and I can handle the flashdrives!" The man gave in after a brief stand-off.
Jazz dragged her feet with another whimper as she was pulled out of the office. She expected one of the things would hold her down the way the man had, but the three strangers merely formed a semi-circle instead. She scanned between their faces, surprised by the extremely human emotions she could see in their eyes, ranging from anxiety to irritation and open curiosity.
"Sit down please," the blue-masked one requested.
"I'm not—" Her voice was little more than a squeak.
"Sit down," he repeated. "You're not going to be hurt. I'm sorry that we frightened you; that wasn't our intention."
"Why are you here?" Jazz was grateful when she was capable of forcing a hint of indignation, as she gave in to sinking to the floor.
"We're looking for evidence that some very bad people may have left behind," the speaker said calmly. "We'll be out of your hair soon, and I promise you won't see us again."
Jazz eyed the other two. "If you don't want to hurt me, then why don't you give me back my phone, or at least let me leave?"
"Because we've gotta protect ourselves too, Kid, that's why," the red one proclaimed.
"Do I look like a kid to you?" Annoyance grounded her with more boldness.
"Just keep your mouth shut and we'll be gone soon, just like my bro said," he retorted.
"Bro?" As Jazz jerked to get to her feet, she was struck by the way all of them stiffened, and decided to stay on the floor. I'm not going to tempt them into attacking me. "What do you expect to find here?" she asked. "If you're looking for a cheaper hotel rate, there are websites for that kind of thing."
"It don't matter what we're looking for," the red-masked one said flatly. "We'll leave you alone in a couple of minutes."
"Are you really gonna let me go?" Jazz barely dared to ask.
"Does it seem like we want to do something to you?" the blue one asked. "We would have done it already."
"That's right, we're the good guys," the orange one chipped in so cheerfully that Jazz gave him a double-take.
"You're what?"
"The good guys, the avengers of evil, the turtle—"
Jazz gasped sharply when the red one's hand flashed out, but he only tapped his brother across the back of the head.
"Shut it, Mikey, we ain't making friends here," he proclaimed.
Turtles, she said to herself. He said turtles! But that doesn't make any sense. They're talking, thinking, and emoting like human beings! Jazz swallowed deeply. "Where did you come from?"
"Nowhere," Red said maddeningly. "And when we leave, you ain't gonna find us."
"What makes you think I want to?" she demanded with a huff. "You guys are acting like I'm the dangerous one! I haven't even done anything! You broke in here, you're holding me against my will, and that makes me the bad guy?" Arguing was one of the few things Jazz thought she was still good at, but she felt like a lot of the wind had already been stolen from her sails. I'd be satisfied to know that I can get out of this alive.
The longer she had been in the presence of the…turtles, the more comfortable she felt to take in a little more detail about them. Underneath wet clothes she could make out some of their muscular frames, and the odd-looking weapons that at least two of them carried. She couldn't tell if the blue-masked one was armed, and it made her feel more wary of him.
"We're not trying to make you feel like the bad guy," the ever-calm turtle said, bending to her level. "But we have to get the information we came for. There are too many lives at stake."
She stared at him with the vague feeling that he was delusional. "This is a Travel Agency," Jazz pronounced carefully. "What do you think you're gonna find besides reservations and vacation documents?"
"You'd be surprised," he said evenly. "Hang tight a little longer, and you won't have to deal with us anymore."
"You're not gonna kill me?" Jazz couldn't quite believe that they were going to let her go.
"Didn't we say that already?" Red inserted. "You asked what we're doing here, but do ya mind if I ask the same question? Them motion detectors didn't pick up anyone in the building."
Jazz laughed in spite of herself. "Those cheap things barely cover the storefront – they don't even extend to the offices! I was working back here, with my cart," she added, suddenly feeling flustered at nearly being seen breaking the law. She never allowed anyone to spy her in the act of touching a computer, not when her freedom depended on it.
I've gotten lax, lulled into a false sense of security. I've got to be more careful, that is, if I get the chance!
"So you're with the cleaning crew," Blue offered.
Jazz nodded. "They'll be back soon. Anytime," she lied through her teeth. This particular team enjoyed drinking on their breaks, which was part of the reason she stayed with the group. The longer they were gone, the more time she had to use a computer.
"Why didn't you go with them?" the suspicious one demanded. "You didn't look like you were doing your job when we got here. You looked like you got caught."
"Why do you have to give her the third degree, Raph?" the orange one challenged. "Isn't it bad enough that we're scaring the living daylights out of her?"
If this is some "good cop/bad cop routine, its pretty lame. I wish they'd all shut up and leave me alone.
"I'm not the one who broke in!" she said defensively. "This is my job. You guys don't belong here!"
"We apologize for interrupting you," the blue-masked one suddenly sounded formal.
Good night, these guys are weird. They couldn't be more different from each other, no matter how much they look alike. I just hope they'll actually let me go. I have to call the cops if there was a break-in, but what am I going to say? Some funky-looking turtles held me against my will, while their human counterparts ransacked the computers? Yeah, that's believable. I've already got the strike against me, and no cop has ever taken me seriously. I'd be better off removing any evidence that they were here. God knows I'll end up getting blamed for it.
"We're done, Leo," she heard the man call. "I think we ought to leave the same way we came in."
The blue-masked turtle nodded. "But then there's the question of this young lady," he said gently. "Where's her phone, Heff?"
"I still have it, and she's not getting it back yet. I want to talk to her first."
"Greg, I don't think we should press our luck by wasting any more time in here," "Leo" argued.
"We won't talk inside," the man replied.
Jazz immediately flattened against the floor as he reached toward her, now feeling more fear over Greg than she had toward the turtle who'd had yet to lay a hand on her.
"Please get up," the man requested. "I won't take up much of your time. I just need to talk to you, and I have a couple of questions about this establishment."
"You know I don't work here, don't you? I'm just the person who cleans up after them. I've got nothing to do with whatever weird conspiracy theories you punks subscribe to!"
His dark eyes peered at her probingly. "I'm sorry about all of this. You're not going to get hurt, and it'll all be over soon."
"They said they'd let me go!"
"I will let you go, after we talk."
"I'm not going anywhere with you; you can't make me! You put your hands on me one more time and you can forget about me keeping anything quiet!"
Jazz wasn't prepared for the jab in her arm. She was so surprised, she didn't even have a chance to cry out. The world around her was rapidly becoming smaller and incredibly dark, which was almost a welcome change.