CHAPTER 7: CASEY JONES

The door opened, and the long haired man greeted the humanoid turtle with a warm hug.  “Mikey!” he exclaimed as his muscles flexed around the five foot five turtle.  “Come on in.”  He gestured in, and so he did.  Behind him was the rat, Splinter. 

“Where is April?” came the soft voice of the sensei. 

Casey nodded, and took splinter by the arm.  Responding with a warm smile, Splinter and Casey slowly trodded towards the couch, where April too greeted her father figure with open arms.  Michelangelo looking around, saw the broken window, which where the hole was, placed with tape.  It was winter time, and  April was sick as it was before the attack with the flu bug that was hitting everyone.  Mikey continued forward yet still, finally turning back at Splinter who was sitting in the lazy boy next to April, placing his hand over her head. 

“Hey Casey, do you wanna get goin?”

“For Shadow?”

“Hell yes!”

“Sure-- hey, where’s Leo?”

“Leonardo is taking some time to himself.” Mikey grumbled.  “Let’s not talk about it right now.”  Crossing his arms, he nudged his head towards the door.  Casey sighed, grabbing his gear.  In doing so, he exited behind Mike, closing the door.

As they walked down the hall way, the dim light of the apartment complex flickering.  So much that the iris of Mike’s eyes were like slashes of white light, evil, almost menacing.  Casey and him turned down the stairwell.  As they walked down the still fairly dim staircase, Mike stopped him and opened the window in the staircase, climbing out onto the fire escape.  Casey followed, making sure his golf bag wasn’t caught behind on the ledge.  Casey took the air in, and then put his bag down. 

“You ready?” the jacket came out of his bag, crinkley, of the New York Rangers, and he zipped it up. 

“Let’s do it, huh?”  Mike grinned.  Casey looked back, unemotional.  Slipping somethign out of the bag, he placed it over his face, revealing a hockey mask, cracked on the side, the top coming down the center like a ‘V’, and painted in the colors of the American Flag. 

“Let’s do it!” they whispered to each other, giving fives in the process.  Mike then grabbed the back end of the ladder, and jumped around it, facing Casey, sticking his tounge out, and then slid down the ladder till he reached the ground, walking onto the gravel of the alley.   Casey soon followed, and the two began their walk.  They continued to walk thru the alley, going further back into the shadows. 

“So what’s with you and Leo?” Casey questioned.  Mike looked at him and sighed. 

“Aw man.  Dude... Leo jumped Raph.  Raphael came in saying stuff about some guy tried hiring him and the Foot Clan to kidnapp Shadow again, and he turned the idiot down, but... “

“Raph is still Shredder..?” Casey was taking this well, Mike thought to himself.  Casey is like Raph, a man of action not words.  Words come later.  Usually when there is regret.  Instead Leo was the guy with those emotions right now.  Then again, everyone around Mike, including himself he supposed, have matured alot recently. 

“Yeah.”

“Wow.  I thought he gave that up when the Lady Shredder almost killed him.”

“So did we.  But... he had supporters.  Do you believe that?”

“A Raph fan club? What the fuck is the world coming to?” Casey sneered, jokingly.  Mike chuckled.

“Tell me about it, you know?” Mike sighed once more, as if each sigh releases the past pain of the day and past couple months.  “Anyway, Raph came back into to warn us, so we could formulate a plan to protect you, I think. But... you called when you got back from work...”Mike paused.  “That’s what Splinter said at least.  You know; you got home, and it just happened.”

“Yea.” Casey was silent.  Morose. 

“So, Leo sorta lost it.  More than he usually does.  He said that Raph always challenged his authority, this and that.  But then he said he was sick of it.  And he jumped him, held the damn blade to his eye.”

“Jesus!”

“Raph took it well at first, pleading.  He’s been there before.  He did that to me once. That was long ago.  He doesn’t speak much about his feelings... you know?”

“Raph is a true man. Not all weapy and shit.  Good fer him.  Good fer him I say.”

“True, but... hey- you sayin’ I’m a wussy?”

“Nawh. We’re true men.” Casey winked.

“Yeah, well this is what pissed me off during the whole time.  Splinter didn’t say anything.  And he has been acting weird, even before Donatello ran away.”

“This whole situation is fucked up for you guys, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know what’s going on anymore Casey.  It doesn’t feel like life.. is...”

“Going the way you want it? I mean at first it’s barely going yer way, but now... it’s not at all.”

“Exactly.  And I miss my brother.  I miss being a family.  You... me, Shadow, Donnie, Raph and Leo.  April and Splinter too.  I miss all of us being together.  Being happy.” Casey stopped and looked at Mike.

A snort, then a sniffle, and then a sob.  Mike looked back at Casey, in awe. He was crying?! He had only seen Casey cry twice, when he lost Shadow and when he came home from work drunk that one night.  “That was so beautiful man.  You deserved Best Oscar.” Casey then chuckeled. 

Sighing at the prank, realizing he had him fooled, Mike looked out at the brick wall covered in graphitti.  “I’d like to thank the academy and my brothers. My friend Casey, my co-star. And... let’s see. Oh yeah! Raph, just because you’re gay, it doesn’t mean I don’t love you as a brother!” 

The two friends laughed and continued on their way.  Indoing so, Mike thought to himself.  “Thanks for that Casey.  I hadn’t laughed in a good while.” 

CHAPTER 8:  AGREEMENT

The city that never sleeps.  Beneath the downpour of the rain, amidst the dark storm clouds, rests the New York Church of God, it’s halls full of prayer. Full of hope.  To some, this is a place that takes time out of sleeping on a Sunday morning.  Some think of it as a place of redemption.  Others find it as a safe-haven…

A sanctuary.  But to some.. it is all of those..  and more. 

At the top of the church, seeking refuge from the rest of the world, rests Donatello.  The turtle is not sleeping, but just resting his head back against the wall.  The red eye thru the shadows and darkness surrounding the cathedral shines bright. 

This place is better than the other place was, he thought to himself.  Donatello upon meeting Canyon, liked him alot.  He felt, somewhere inside of him... that he could trust him.  The night before, it was nice to let go of all these emotions and feelings he had inside of him and no one to share them with.  The feelings of loneliness, and despair.  Instantly they parted last night; Donatello with a new friend, and a new suggestion of a place to stay.  And Canyon? A new friend as well.  Though everyone is after something from everybody else, he knew that one day when he asked him, Donatello would repay the favor.

As his thoughts of Canyon frittered away, April, Casey and Shadow came into focus.   He saw Casey the other night coming home from work.  He seemed down, but better than he had in awhile. He stopped drinking finally, to the point of excess. And that he was proud.  Casey and him... he liked Casey.  He wish he could see him and his friend. April.  April was someone who always stirred emotion from within, but Donatello knew it was forever not to be.  He is a mutant turtle.  Now a cyborg turtle.  And her? A human.  Two different species.  He always knew it wouldn’t work.  He had always theorized though that the others... his brothers felt the same way and--

His brothers.  Leonardo.  Michaelangelo.... and... Raphael.  That asshole.  “I am not worthless.” Donatello muttered, as the memories shifted thru his head.   He missed the power of touch.  To touch his brothers; To shake their hands and hug them.  And to feel the old musty yet reliable bo staff of his.  To feel the furry brown uncombed hair of his master, Splinter.

A long tear trudged down his break, before falling off to the ground below.

“Do I look like a fucking delivery service?”  Canyon shook his head.

“tsk-tsk-tsk.” 

The man held his head in his hands, finally admitting defeat. “Agreed!! Damn it!His name?”

“Brody Marcus.”

“But--”

“No buts.  Bring him to me, along with the Plasticosis. And I will bring you your girl.” Canyon reached for the cut-off button, when he froze.  “Oh and what is her name..?”

The man seemed angry. 

“You mean-”

“Rumors fly around town fast Mr. Puzorelli, and I don’t want to make any mistakes. As do you, I take it.”

“Very well.  Her name is Shadow Jones.”

“Why do you need me again..?”

The man was getting fed up, but he partook in Canyon’s game.  “We hired another agency to retrieve the girl. Now they are holding her hostage from us.  And after trying to make contact with the Foot, we have met with no success.”

“Yes. The Altecians change location of their hideout most frequently. Now on word of the Foot, I thought they had vanished from this city a year or so ago.”

“The Foot still thrives under leadership of Saki.  It was rumored he was killed. But the Shredder still walks among us in the flesh.  So... Saki lives.”

Canyon didn’t believe in such rubbish.  Saki... lives.  The Foot he realized was quite real.  But died out supposedly in the states due to leadership quarrels.  And now with the branch in the states thought up as gone, the Foot in Japan, as word takes it; are slowly depleting itself. But again. That is all rumor.  “We have come to an agreement.” Canyon said, breaking his train of thought.

“Good.  Now, using the address you gave us, we’ll ship some information on our man. He is there in town, overseeing all of this. Let me just say, we don’t trust you. So remember, don’t turn your back on us.”

The man reached over and clicked on a button.  The view from the Blang-Blang Club came into view again.  The 5’10 dancer still was out of view, apparently still in the room in the far back.

Canyon sneered looking at the pictures.  He was disgusted, as he looked over at the side of the room, which features something seen in an anime show in japan: wires covering the ceiling and floor, coming together giving energy to a large tube filled with liquid. Inside... incased within the large cylinder is Katlin Graves, still in a metal-Plasticosis state.

As the noise from the fax machine began to print up, he looked at the woman, and a gray tear formed, almost like ice.  Grabbing the paper, he looked at the number, and glinching the fax in his hand, he looked, evily at the monitor. 

“Oh no Puzorelli, maybe it is you who shouldn’t turn your back on me!”  Canyon regaining control of himself turned back towards the screen.  The center of his attention renetered.  Her top was off, hair messy, and the customer was zipping up his pants, the bottle of champagne, unopened under our left, but his right arm.   “And what of you, my sweet?”  Canyon watched her, as she walked back up to another potential customer at the bar.  “Maybe tonight you will get more information from your clientele?”

Canyon’s plan was working.  Things were falling into place.  The turtle though; was his suggestion correct? He wasn’t quite sure.  Ever since he recaptured his wife from the Farley Brothers Gang, and ripped off half of their equipment suppliers, a load of contacts came into his hands.  Such of that of the Puzorelli family, and the Altecians.  Contacting them suggesting scratching their back if they could scratch his, by finding the antidote of Plasticosis.  Walking towards a make-shift closet, Canyon grabbed a hooded sweatshirt.  Putting it on, the touch of the fabric didn’t comply, neither did the shoes nor the sweat pants.  As Canyon walked toward the door, grabbing a backpack, he looked at his non-compliant wife in her tube and smiled a warm, loving smile. 

“I shall return soon, my dear.”

SECOND ITERATION OF THE CLAN OF THE TURTLE

“As the leaves change, the group‘s spirit as one in the future seems defused, destroying the rebuilding of energies in the spring.  The Past reveals itself once more.” 

SPLINTER

CHAPTER 9: THE FOOT CLAN

The training grounds of the Foot Clan were deserted.  As the armored figure walked towards the shadows, he stopped dead in his tracks. The 5’6 figure looked up at the persons in front of him.  In Elite Garb, stood two Foot Elite.  They nod, and Raphael nodding back, proceeds past them.  Taking off the Shredder helmet, Raphael pauses, then bowing.

“Thank you very much for seeing me.”

“Your manor has changed since we last spoke.”

“I am trying to show respect towards my superiors.”

The voice in the darkness sighed.  “Respect from you reptiles.” mocked the voice as the Turtle cringed, and fought back yelling.  He was in no mood to start a fight.  Not now.

The other voice spoke out.  “You may stand, Turtle.”

“Thank you.” Raphael nodded his head, putting his Shredder helmet back on.

“What is it,” the first voice echoed, “you wish to discuss?”

“Elite Guard.” the turtle responded. 

A third voice made his presence known.  “What do you need such Guard for?”

“I need them for the same reason the original Shredder created them. I need protection. Especially with the Lady Shredder out there, still roaming around. So I think it’d be a wise move on our parts. And not only would my Elite Guards protect me, it would keep their honor code and protect my brothers, if they ever decide to don the leadership role of the Foot Clan. And also, protect the elders.” Raphael paused.  “I know that you may still side with the Lady Shredder’s claim as leader.”

“No.” finally a figure stepped out.  The third voice stands, in Foot Soldier dogi, wearing a headband around his head, that of a Foot Council.  “She lost in the battle between clans, up for ruling of the leadership position.” the member looked over, at now, another present Council member.

Voice Two, now visible looked over at the first now visible Council member as he spoke.   “Despite our want for her leadership--”

“We in Japan, are honorable clan. We tried to be.” the first Council member concluded.

Two more Council members made themselves present. Raphael gasped as he stepped back.  “You’re all here?”

“ Protect the Council? Why turtle?”

“You guys are the only one that keeps the Foot in check if I can’t  But… they’d always report to me. Not you.” Raphael motioned, “a trump card in my favor, if you will.”

“We shall see turtle. Give us a week to contemplate such an action.” The fifth council member uttered, holding his hand up, displaying the end of the session.  The Elite, now tripled in size, two for each Council member, surrounded and began to escort Raphael to the door.  As the door closed, the apparent leader of the Foot Council, ‘1’ turned towards the others.

“Times grow more serious.”

“I say we let him continue his path as leader.” the second chimed in.

“No.  We are falling off course.  We need a new leader.  We are losing control.”

“We should of stayed in Japan.”

“The turtle has built up a weak army and lead it to redemption by defeating the leader in which we took stake in.” The Fourth muttered with disgust, “The turtle may be the thing we need.”

“Either way...” the Fifth Council Member sneered, “the time will come where the Turtle will establish his true loyalty. As of yet, it is with us, not his brothers. His brothers are the true enemy.”

“And of the Elite, who could protect his brothers?”

“Give some of our best men to join his ranks.  I assure you. The Turtle will assume the position of choosing our own.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

“Then the turtle is a fool.  Or he is more clever than we thought.”

The Fourth again chimed in.  “But we are at too much of a loss to supply any more men.”

“Fine.  Disperse only ten.”

“Too many still.”

“Fucking police.  Why can’t it be like America. Stupid. Unintelligent.  Easy to bribe.”

“It is not safe here, you know.” First Council member iterated.  “I shall return.  My services here in America at this time are no longer needed.  As of the rest of you, I advise no one else stays.  We are weak.  If slashed in the tiniest manor, our rank begins to sink. The Foot Clan will be up for possession by anyone.  Even... local syndicates.  We have honor.  We have... tradition.  Dating back centuries.  We are one of the only remaining ninja clans of old left in the world.  We will not fall now.  Not because of--”

“Enough!!!!!” The Fifth Council member screamed, “Very well.  We shall all partake in the trek back to our homeland.  But we need to make sure we have contact here in the states.”

“And of our men..?”

“I tire of this conversation.  At least one must make his Elite ranks. I do not care otherwise.” the Fifth mumbled.  And with that, they silently began to disappear within the shadows along with their Elite.

:: Chapters 4-6
:: Chapters 10-12

:: Back to Fan-fiction