"Are you sure you got the right brand, Ricardo?" I asked my reliable buyer - I mean, friend - with narrowed blue eyes. The sun was setting beyond the skyscrapers, close to evening so I decided to wear a black leather jacket over a black t-shirt with a skull with button eyes, wearing white gloves, and black and gray cargo pants tucked in my favorite black combat boots. I styled my smooth, black hair to be swept on the right side over my eye. "You know how I feel about smoking cheap shit."

Ricardo heavily sighed. "I know the spiel, pendejo. I buy you cigs, you pay for my service. That was the deal. Why would I misplace your trust after how much you pay me? That's like telling a nudist to put on pants.

Weird innuendo but okay. Whatever. I gently grabbed the cigarette pack and unwrapped the wrapper. I pulled out a stick while taking out a silver lighter. I offered one to my associate; he gladly took one as well as lighting his stick. I light mine as well. We inhaled a long drag of nicotine while listening the bustle of the Big Apple.

Since I'm suspended from my school, this is my pastime. Smoking in an alleyway with an old druggie during a sunset. Did I forget to mention I'm sixteen turning seventeen?

Yep, I'm literally killing myself. Well, if my body would let me. Ricardo blew a long smoke. "So, when you are getting back to school, chico?"

"Three weeks and four days in counting." Honestly, I didn't want to go back. For once, I didn't intend to be suspended. See when an ex-girlfriend who happens to be the principal's daughter ask to sneak into her father's office to change her grades, you should say no and said ex decided to snitch to save her prissy ass. Once again, exes who ask for favors or advice, say "go fuck yourself". If it weren't for my parents donating the school for a heavy fee, I would've been expelled. All I got was a heavy lecture on why I was caught. Mother scolded me for my lack of training. my father remarked on the whereabouts of my intelligence. Overall, my parents were disappointed on why their perfect soldier was rebellious. "Wanna trade places?"

Ricardo chuckled. "I'm too old for school, but I don't mind trading lives. Living in a big cushy house. No one telling you how to eat, dress, buy shit. Sleep whenever you want. Best education handed right to you." I disregard my output. I don't want to say how lopsided his perspective was. My parents trained me to be their perfect warrior/soldier/mercenary/assassin. Yep, as soon as I hit eighteen educations wouldn't matter. The reason I go to public school is to test my adaptation to social gatherings and peer communications. Added measures my parents insist I learn practically all culture: music, art, language, and fighting techniques. They were building me to be their weapon. I had survived a near death accident which most definitely would've killed me. I was a one in a million lucky kid which brings to my parents' greatest project: Project Prodigy. I am their ticket to bringing their goal to reality. I'm literally a cyborg. Metal prosthetic limbs – arms and legs – curtesy of my aunt (dad's sister), eye cameras curtesy of my dad, all hooked up to my cranium which is basically half brain half computer. I am one walking tin can with wires entwine with veins. I held off my statement. "I bet supermodels are after your ass."

"Oh sí. Guys and girls are after mis nalgas", I joked. He burst out laughing. Heh, good. I can deal with humor. Yeah. It's good to redirect the conversation with humor. "How's your day?" I asked steering the conversation away from my homestyle.

Ricardo got silent. I raised an eyebrow. He would go off saying how his job suck in not giving him enough pay, his wife nagging him to stop drinking or taking drugs, or how his son isn't smart strong enough to stand up against his bullies. He took a long drag of his cig and leaned against the wall. "I'm going clean."

"And?"

"What do mean 'and'? I'm really going clean here, you little shit."

"You say that now but remember the last time you said were going clean? It was one year and five months ago you told me those exact words", I sucked more nicotine, "you spend seven days in rehab only to sneak out and dope up on angel dust. I managed to bring you back by dunking your head in a bucket of ice water."

"Yeah. You are one twisted motherfucker."

"It worked, right?"

"You were close to killing me!"

"Why would I do that? You know what brand I like smoking", I teased with my famous dark humor.

"How reassuring. I mean it. I'm going clean. My wife is having another baby." I want to congratulate him, but I held it because he wanted to get this off his chest. "Another baby coming its way. And Marta's scared; scared shitless of what I would do after the baby's born. I know I'm not Father of the Year or Best Husband, but I want to make this right. I've been thinking, and I mean REALLY thinking without the drugs and liquor clouding my mind. I'm a piece of shit. I can barely recognize the man staring through the mirror. I want to be the man my Marta married; the father my son deserves and father to my second child." He lifted the cigarette high. "Consider this my last smoking day."

I guess I should be happy. He sounded certain he'll go through all the way. "Why are you telling me? Don't you have a therapist?"

"Heh, do I have to explain? It's simple. You change me, Merrill Damian Ramirez." My eyes widened. I didn't know he remember my full name. Candid we were as high as fuck. Still though… it baffled me. "Sure, you barely talk about your life and problems, but you stood there listening to me pouring out my complaints. Your presence is relaxing like a summer breeze on a midday on the beach."

Weird simile. "Thanks, I appreciate the compliment, though you're too old to get into my pants, viejo."

"Joke all you want. Talking to you makes me want to spend quality time with my son." He dumped the rest onto the ground and snuff it out. "It's too bad you're going to find someone else to be your gopher."

I nonchalantly shrugged. "Eh, there are people out there who would do anything for money. It won't be hard to find your replacement." I reached into my pants pocket fetching my wallet. Ricardo tried to decline the offer. "Think of it as a starting point for the nursery. Babies aren't cheap, you know. Son caras." I gave him five hundred in cash as I walked to the alley's opening overlooking the busy street.

"Merrill." I stopped yet I didn't turn. "You're a good kid. Just 'cause you're different doesn't make you terrible. You should stop seeing yourself as a bad guy for once." I walked and blended into the crowd. I discarded my cigarette. The need to smoke is gone. Guess I wasn't in the mood. Eh, who needs Ricardo. I can pay someone else to get me cigs. It's not like we were friends or anything. I just listen to him bitch about his life. I told a few things about mine, though they were as close to the truth as possible. We merely smoke and bitch. It's all we ever done.

I can find someone else to pay. I don't need Ricardo. A lot of people will do anything for cash. I just need to find the desperate types. Who needs Ricardo? Sure he was good company and he knows my favorite smoking brand? And so what if I overpay the guy because his job sucks? He has a family to support. I don't care! I don't fucking care!

It's not like I'm lonely or anything…

…right………

I stopped walking and looked up at the orange sky. Am I lonely?

Something fuzzy zip between my legs. "Wha?" I uttered seeing a yellow creature running through a sea of legs. Not long enough, two huge body builders bumped through me chasing after it. Now any normal New Yorker would go along their regular day. Act like it's none of their concern. I should go home and binge watch horror flicks with a bowl of heavy buttery popcorn in my boxer shorts.

Sadly, I'm not normal.

"Activate quick speed." On command, I felt my adrenaline rush pumping aligning it with the electric wires and blood cells. Electricity buzzing into my metal legs. Soon enough, I became as fast as a NASCAR racecar. I scooped the little…dog? I pulled a double take. I never seen a dog like this before. I skid to a screeching halt. I need to not overuse quick speed. My legs aren't speed worthy yet. Still beta testing (so my aunt says).

"I'm guessing your hobbies involve dognapping strays for force breeding or wrestling ring, right?" I quipped.

"Give us creature", Thing 1 threatened.

"How you say: pretty please", Thing 2 followed. Wow. They're so threatening. I'm shaking in my boots. For a moment, I thought they were Russian. My scanners said otherwise. Something about them rub me the wrong way and I don't mean that sexually.

Being the little shit that I am, I said, "Nope" and dashed away. Heavy footsteps chasing after me. I bobbed and weaved through passing civilians. I bumped into a man in a brown business suit drinking coffee. He spilled his drink. He yelled and ordered to pay for his laundry. Whatever. I slipped pass a hot dog vendor giving his customer a hot dog. I grabbed the offering dog while leaving a ten on the counter. The vendor yelled some profanities as I ate half the dog. I offered the rest the little guy. It gladly eats it.

I grabbed a long umbrella with a hook from a display table after jumping it with ease. I kicked it to block their path. The lavender jumpsuit guy punched it in two. Using the umbrella as a substitute sword, I jabbed the charging man into his throat causing him to keel over gasping his windpipe. His comrade came my way wit raised fists. He threw punch after punch, and I parried with his many hits. With the latest parry, I chose to thrust myself in his line of fire. He managed to grab the umbrella and bended the top piece upwards. I pulled my weapon to inspect the damage. He smirked at his handiwork. My response: I threw the umbrella at his forehead using his injury to make my escape.

I turned a corner into an alleyway only to my shock it's a short ally with a dead end. I wanted to turn back, yet the heavy footsteps say they weren't having it. I backed away slowly until my backside hits the brick wall. I tightened my grip on the creature.

"We can do this hard way or difficult choice."

"Please make easy for you."

I rolled my eyes. Their threats are terrible. Obviously, they are not use to the good-guy-bad-guy routine. Okay. Focus. Plan A: I drop a smoke pellet and zipline to the rooftops. Find a secluded location until things die down. Don't know how long it would take. Worse case scenario: they find us again and it will be another cat and mouse chase again. Plan B: I fight Dumber and Dumbest while protecting the yellow puffball. Sadly, I forgot to restock my inventory. I can't waste my knives and pellets willy nilly. My parents may be rich, but supplies aren't cheap to come by. Not to mention, they could be holding their strength back. One of them was able to bend an umbrella with one hand (it was a cheap umbrella but damn). Imagine if he grabs one of my prosthetics. Breaking them with a single squeeze. It's not a pretty picture. THAT'S IT! THE NEXT TIME I GO ON A SMOKE BREAK, I'LL MAKE SURE I'M FULLY STOCK AND HAVE MY DAMN BIKE WITH ME!!!! If I make out alive.

The two buff men charged. I stood my group ready to take a knife out. It takes one blink and I saw I was at the construction site, hopefully a few miles away from the chaos giants.

I blinked once. Twice. Thrice for good measure. What the fuck? "HOLY SHIT!! YOU CAN TELEPORT!!!!" I yelled as I throw the little creature. My heart thumped against my chest. Talk about intense. One moment I was knocking on Death's door with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. The next, I'm here at a construction site. Maybe throwing the little guy was a bad choice on my end but can you blame me? Put yourself in my shoes. Would you be calm or freak the hell out?

A whimper brought me back to reality. I notice the fuzzy dog thingy inching away. It probably thought I was going to hit or beat it. I sighed. "Hey, come on. I didn't mean to throw you. You just surprise me. It's not everyday I meet a mystical creature or whatever the fuck you are." It didn't believe me as it inches more into the shadows. I sighed again. I don't normally do this, but I don't want to chase after a magical being. Not after the chase I went through. I pulled my glove off showing it my metal hand. I let it sniff my fingers. "Yep, it's real. You're not the only weirdo who lives here. I know some part of you understand human speech, so I promise not to do that again if you promise not to teleport without my consent, ok? I scratch your back you scratch mine. We have each other's back. What do you say?" It stared at me with big eyes. To my relief, it purred rubbing its head against my fingers. It leaped onto my shoulders as I stood up. I chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." I made my exist. Unfortunately, the tug got stronger including a presence I'm unfamiliar with. I turned around. I softly whisper, "Activate heat sense." In two blinks, my clear vision became thermos sensor. I am surrounded by the coolness of the construction site until my eyes lock onto five heated figures.

"Whoever you are, I already call dibs on the furball. So, make this easy and show yourself", I said to the shadows. I saw them silently conversing to themselves. They probably thought I was losing my mind. My eyes lingered to the blue energy figure. Strange, out of the five it's the one with blue energy surrounding them "Alright. I try to be nice… off, furball." The creature jumped off. It looked at me with a tilted head. "Activate stealth and quick speed." My body vanished. My feet silently padded against the ground. I leaped onto the frame heading toward the group. My focus was the one figure in blue energy. Three point two seconds I was behind the figure. They're shorter than me by three inches. They turned around as if they can feel my presence. I quickly grabbed their waist and dragged them further from the group. I pushed them against the iron frame my knife digging into their neck. I heard their gasp as I dropped my stealth. "Deactivate heat sense." A blink later and my vision became clear. Scanners popped into my vision giving me details of the specimen in my grasp. I ignore them because I am having a staring contest with a (slightly) tall turtle. They stared at me with dark eyes. I couldn't tell what color they are probably a mix of black and brown.

They wore a blue mask over their eyes red marking visible beyond the mask. They're slender yet muscular. They had a blue belt with attached sash to keep their dual katanas. I continued to stare into those as I leaned closer. They gulped. Their face gotten greener especially around their cheeks. Were they sick or was it their version of being flustered?

I spoke in a hushed whisper. "Are you a red-eared slider?"

They blinked. "Um… yeah…?"

They're male. Okay.

Oh, and he can talk too.