Hey Readers!
Sorry for the long wait! I'm back at school now, so I've been pretty busy getting settled and all of that. Anyways, this is for your patience!
-aggiefrogger
Arcade Afternoon:
YOU'RE MAKING US LOOSE, Venom said.
"I'm not going to loose," Eddie muttered, moving the joystick in his right hand as he hit the button with his left, maneuvering the Ninja Turtle across the screen. Turtles Through Time was a good sequel game, but it sure was difficult. "Stop backseat playing!"
BUT YOU SUCK AT THIS!
"Just a few more bad guys," the boy said, spamming the attack button as he tried to take down the purple ninja robots. "Just a few more seconds-" He missed kicking one of them, and it, along with another bad guy, took his character down, and the familiar GAME OVER notice appeared on the screen.
"DANG IT," the human and alien shouted at the same time, the former hitting the side of the arcade console with the side of his fist, which hurt, and earned him an annoyed look from the arcade owner. The symbiote didn't make it feel better, probably still upset that they had lost. "I was so close!"
I TOLD YOU THAT WE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN OVER.
"I've been playing this for years, though; you're still new at this."
OUR REFLEXES ARE BETTER THAN YOURS. LET US TRY THIS NEXT TIME.
Eddie looked over at the game, spotting another kid putting the quarters in to play. "No," he muttered. "Let's just look around for a bit; maybe get something at the snack bar."
AGREED.
The human made his way past the rows of game consoles, screens glowing brightly in the dark interior of the arcade. It was especially crowded today, since it was Friday afternoon, and many kids and teens were playing the various games, the occasional yell of anger or triumph punctuating the air. If you were a kid in the city nineties, this was where you went when you got too old for parks but were still young enough for it not to be weird.
How much allowance do we have left, Eddie thought.
$2.50.
Better not waste all of it if we're gonna get a pretzel.
YOU BETTER GET US THE CINNAMON-SUGAR ONE, Venom told him. WE DO NOT LIKE THE SALT KIND.
Fine, the boy thought. But that means I get to chose what we drink, and I want water.
WUSS.
I'm gonna die if I drink only soda, he argued in his head, ignoring the alien's insult.
FINE; WE GUESS WE MUST KEEP YOUR BODY FROM FAILING ON US.
Reaching the small snack bar, which was crowded with more kids, the human found an empty stool at the corner, waiting for the teen behind the counter to reach him. Fishing in his pocket for the money, the boy heard some sort of commotion behind him, which included the sound of change rattling.
Do you hear that, he thought.
YEP.
Periscope?
OKAY.
Eddie's eyes glazed over, and the view of the counter in front of him disappeared. When his vision cleared, he was now looking at the arcade behind him, the cuff of his shirt collar visible beneath his vision. He now looked through the alien's eyes, which were fortunately not visible to the human eye. The first time the symbiote had shown off this skill, the boy had slammed into an open locker at school. Now, however, he sat still in his seat as he stared around behind him, searching for the source of the noise, which he quickly found.
A lone boy, maybe eight or ten, stood by the change machine, surrounded by a pair of older teens. It was obvious that the boy had just gotten his change, and was now being robbed of his hard-earned allowance money by the teens. The older guys were laughing and pushing him around as he tried to grab his coins back, and they shoved him to the ground, walking towards the exit to the arcade, laughing. The kid they'd shoved to the ground looked like he was trying not to cry, but failing miserably.
"Venom," Eddie whispered to himself, his vision rightening itself as he felt his anger rise alongside the alien's, "mind if we hold off on that pretzel real quick?"
NO. LET'S GET THEM.
The boy quickly got up from his seat, following the teens outside of the building and around to the alley behind it.
There they were, celebrating there victory. One could tell that they were those jerks that wore nice clothes, smoked, even though they weren't even eighteen yet (and thought it was cool), and apparently found picking on others entertainment. So, when the young boy approached them, their faces lit up with glee.
"Look what we have here," one of them called, the sound of many kid's coins jingling in his coat pockets. "Another contributor to our cause!" His friends laughed at that, extinguishing their cigarettes. "What're you giving us?"
"I saw what you did to that kid," Eddie told them, glaring at them all. "I assume you guys aren't the kind to return what's not yours?"
"Isn't our fault that he was too weak to stop us," another one of them spoke up, straighting up and ceasing his casual lean against the car that was parked nearby as he and the others approached the boy. "Too bad you are, too."
"I wouldn't call us weak, per se," the boy replied smugly.
"'We,'" a third one asked, snickering a little. "What's wrong with you; gotta split personality?"
"No," Eddie replied as he felt the symbiote cover his body, seeing the grins of the teens start to fade while his grew. "BUT YOU'RE ALL ABOUT TO HAVE SPLIT SKULLS IF YOU DON'T DO AS WE SAY."
Sam POV:
Meanwhile, Sam was sitting on a stool at the snack bar near the change machine, too upset to even order anything. Even if he was hungry, he didn't have any money anymore; those same teens took his money every other week, and he thought that he would be fast enough this time, but- He quickly wiped his eyes with his sweater sleeve, not wanting anyone to notice him crying, figuring he might as well go home.
"Hey." The boy turned to find another boy, maybe a few years older than him, standing behind him. He had blond hair, pale skin, and wore an oversize sweater not unsimilar to his.
Sam shook his head. "I don't have any more money; those guys just took it, and-"
"I know," the older boy replied, giving him a kind smile. "Which is why I got you this." He held up a plastic shopping bag that looked like it held about twenty or so dollars in quarters; it was supported by several other bags, and was about the size of a bowling ball. "Take it."
The young boy gaped at the sight. "Where did you-"
"You won't have to worry about those guys anymore," the older boy told him, putting the bag on the counter next to him. "And if you want to share the money with any of the other kids who were robbed by those jerks, you can."
Sam stared at him in shock, then turning back towards the bag of coins sitting on the tabletop. "Are… is this some sort of joke?"
"No joke. Just trying to make the world a better place. Good luck!" He gave him a small wave as he walked over to the other side of the counter, asking the worker for something. A minute later, he received a cinnamon-sugar pretzel, paid the man, and made his way towards the exit. As Sam watched him leave, he could've sworn he saw something wave at him from the teen's shoulder, as if there was a tiny third arm wishing him well. He blinked, and saw that it was gone; he must've imagined it.
Later that afternoon, the bag of coins considerably lighter (he'd shared his spoils with some of the other kids he knew that were victims as well, though they all now had wicked headaches), the boy made his way outside, turning to go home when he saw something odd in the alleyway. A car, a nice looking one, was turned completely upside down, as if someone had dropped it from the sky. Another odd thing was that several articles of clothing were strewn across the car wreck. Confused as to why clothes were there, Sam heard a small whimpering noise, and, looking up, he saw their owners.
The teens from earlier were huddled on the first level of the fire escape, the bottom and top ladders leading to the ground and next level twisted around so they couldn't climb off. They were all in their underwear, and they looked like they'd lost a bad fight, given the black eyes, small cuts, and, in one boy's case, a broken arm; Sam recognized him as the one that had pushed him earlier, and was the ringleader of the group. The teen, catching sight of him, straightened up.
"P-P-Please c-call th-the cops s-s-o w-we can t-t-turn ourselves in-n," the teen begged as one of his friends continued to cry. "H-He t-t-told us t-t-to w-wait f-for y-you sp-specifically."
The boy gaped at them for a while before finally asking, "Who?"
"A monster," one of them mumbled, his eyes wide and full of fear as he hugged his knees, shivering. "Just call the cops, please!" The guy was so pathetic, the boy quickly ran to the nearby payphone, picking up the receiver to call 911.
Sam had no idea what had happened to the teens or why they were babbling about a monster, but he figured it had to do with that mysterious boy who'd given him the money. And that weird waving arm poking out of that boy's shoulder who seemingly appeared out of nowhere… but aliens and monsters weren't real. Right? However, he did know that he and the other kids would never be bothered or robbed again, and made a mental note to never become one of those jerks when he grew up.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Also, Venom and Eddie didn't actually crack any skulls; just scared those teens and forced them to turn themselves in. Also, violence is NEVER the answer; even in the 90's, and I am NOT condoning violence in ANY way, shape or form. If you suffer from violence or abuse, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1−800−799−7233 or TTY 1−800−787−3224.
Have a great and safe week/weekend!
-aggiefrogger
Note: I do NOT own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in ANY way, shape or form!
