Disclaimer: Yet again, I can claim no ownership to the greatness that is the Ninja Turtles.
A/N: This story was written on a 'what if' situation I'm sure a lot of you have thought about when it comes to the guys. After all, they aren't invincible, even if they are very talented ninja warriors. It was beta read by the enormously talented authoress that is Dierdre, so if you for any stupid reason haven't already read her fics, I sugguest you get your butt moving in her direction ASAP. Also, please don't forget to tell me what you thoughts if you decide to read this short tale to its end, I'm very much addicted to the rush that comes with your reviews. Thank you.
HELPLESS
by
Mickis
Genre: Drama/General
Language: English
Rating: T
Summary: Donatello and Raphael learn a bitter lesson on the streets of New York. One shot.
He laughed, sincerely and whole-heartedly; feeling it build up all the way from the very pit of his stomach, tickling deep in his throat as it came out. The sound of his own happiness echoed pleasantly in his head, as it seemed to light up the entire alley before it was carried away by a cold wind that swept past him on the fire escape, tugging at the fabric of his trench coat.
"Yeah," Raphael agreed from where he climbed a few rungs above him. "I mean, at first I thought he was kiddin', but the guy was dead serious!"
Donatello smiled to himself. "I guess it's true what they say, then."
"What?" the red-masked turtle wondered, pausing in his climbing and turning his head around to look down over his shoulder. Don could nearly see the impatience in his brother's eyes, even though they were safely hidden underneath the tattered cap of the fedora.
"Well, you know," Donnie explained as he proceeded to ascend the iron ladder. "How you learn something new every day."
Raphael shook his head as he heaved himself up on the rooftop with his arms. "Shit, Donnie. Don't go n' turn somethin' fun into one a' yer learnin' experiences."
Donatello felt his features drop in brief irritation, although he had to admit Raph was right.
It had been fun.
The kind of fun that's completely unexpected, which – as far as he knew – was the best kind.
Casey had called the lair a few hours earlier, practically demanding Leo to hand Don the phone. It turned out he'd wanted a favor, naturally.
Some twenty minutes later he'd found himself on Casey's "balcony" in the rain, trying to fix his satellite while the owner of the time forsaken object and Raph, who'd insisted on tagging along, were both kicking back on the living room couch, pointing and laughing, enjoying the sensation of being dry.
Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to tune into the particular channel Casey had called for, but it turned out that didn't matter. The ex-hockey player called for him to leave it alone as a young couple, apparently from Slovenia, busily ice-skated across the screen, wearing almost nothing but skin colored butt flaps and some body glitter.
At first, he'd thought he was kidding – Raph, too – but it soon became very clear to them that their human friend was very serious. He went on and on about how the choreography combined with the flawless partnership between the skaters was really impressive to watch on the ice.
Needless to say, the rest of their time in the apartment had been spent faithfully mocking Casey. Don considered himself a man appreciative of art; he loved listening to big, pompous orchestra arrangements and had even enjoyed analyzing a painting or two. But ice-skating?
He had to draw the line somewhere.
Grabbing the concrete edge of the rooftop, Donatello pulled himself up with his slightly tired arms and threw his leg over the low ceiling wall, rising to his full height next to his sibling. The wind up here felt so much chillier, freer almost, and he could feel the cold pass right through his clothing, causing prickles on the back of his neck to rise in pleasant discomfort. The breezy summer nights had been completely replaced by harsh autumn, soon to be followed by an even crueler winter. He made a mental note to turn up the heat down in the lair. In fact, he was a little surprised Mikey hadn't complained about it already, for he youngest was the most sensitive to the cold. Were it not for the Christmas celebration, Michelangelo would probably prefer to skip that particular season entirely.
Raphael turned to look at him, adjusting the collar of his trench coat to save his neck from the chilly draft. "Which way?" he succinctly asked.
Don looked out over the rooftops, realizing he didn't care. "Whatever's the fastest," he decided as he made a 'burrrh-ing' noise. "I'm freezing my ass off."
Raph nodded with a smirk before he sprinted across the rooftop, jumping off the edge with admirable force and landed on the opposite apartment building with practiced ease. Donatello took in a short, subconscious breath before speeding across the concrete, the sole of his foot scraping against the ledge of the building as he pushed himself off and sailed through the air, the wind feeling more cold than ever as it almost tore his trench coat open. Prepared for the landing, he bent his knees with a dull painfulness at the impact, before quickly rising to his full height and proceeding to race after his brother.
Having jumped four buildings, he found Raph standing by the far edge of the opposite one. He furrowed his eye ridges in suspicion as he made the jump and landed on the solid surface of the rooftop, curiously making his way over to his older sibling, whose eyes were locked on whatever rested below them.
"What…?" Donnie quickly cut his question short as Raphael raised a hand to silence him. Don took the last couple of steps that parted him from the edge and carefully leaned over to see what his brother was so drawn in by, slightly worried hands gripping the cold wall that surrounded the rooftop.
Below them, six stories down, a trio of men had a weakly whimpering woman pushed up against the brick wall, one of them holding a large hand over her mouth to keep her from attracting any unwanted attention.
Don felt his jaw tighten in fury.
It was so typical. If he'd had a quarter for every time they'd stumbled over a rape, they'd be renting a room at the Hilton by now. Didn't this city ever get tired of molesting their women?
He looked up to meet Raphael's stare, whose eyes held a passionate glow that hadn't been there before, mostly because he shared his own fury, but partly because he knew retribution was at hand. Giving a quick motion with his head to the alley, Raph quietly spoke, "So whaddaya say? Wanna introduce ourselves?"
Unable to carry his Bo staff when wearing the trench coat, Donatello reached inside his belt for a nunchaku he often carried as a replacement. He was nowhere as good as Mikey, but Splinter had tutored them on a handful of various weapons in case the situation called for something different. He could definitely handle himself with the 'chuck.
"Sure," Donnie answered, shrugging his shoulders. "Why not?"
Raphael smirked and stalked toward the fire escape at the left end of the rooftop, with Donatello following closely behind him. Careful not to attract any attention, Raph stepped over the edge and grabbed a hold of the ladder attached to the brick work. With one last glace at Don he slowly began to climb down, so as not to make any noise.
Donnie slid the nunchaku back in his belt and followed his brother's example, hastily flexing his frozen hands before grabbing the set of poles and swinging his legs one at a time over the wall. He could hear the woman's muffled cries below him as he moved with caution, and he had to use every piece of common sense he possessed to keep himself from descending as fast as he wished.
These people could be carrying weapons; they could not be discovered until they were ready.
When reaching the first fire escape platform, Don carefully made his way over to the next ladder and continued his journey to the ground. Finally, he reached the platform attached to the second floor, where Raph impatiently waited, fidgeting with the weapons hidden inside of his coat. Donatello eyed him knowingly and Raph nodded, an unspoken agreement shared between them.
Without any further planning, they both jumped off the platform and landed on the asphalt beneath them, barely making a sound as their feet made contact with the ground. The thugs were so busy trying to keep the poor woman in check that they were too distracted to notice them creping closer, faithfully sticking to the shadows as they had been taught.
Now, when they were only about twelve feet away, Don noticed for the first time how young the perpetrators were. The youngest didn't look a day over fifteen; his big, nervous eyes continuously darting towards the opening to the public street, afraid someone would discover them. As for the other two, he'd guess they were both somewhere around eighteen or nineteen. One of them had his blonde hair trimmed almost all the way down to his skull, while the other hid his hair color underneath the light gray hood of a sweatshirt that he wore under his shiny leather jacket. Don couldn't help but think that it had probably been stolen it; it looked rather expensive for someone who was most likely still in school.
The woman, though, was much older than the group of idiots that were busy tearing her clothes off. She looked to be far into her twenties, if not thirty, and he could detect tears of desperation seeping out from her tightly shut eyes, as though she was trying to close herself off from the reality around her.
He saw Raphael glance at him from his left, channeling his thoughts on the situation. There was no need for this poor woman to suffer any further, for they were close enough now to announce themselves.
Not wasting any time in polite introductions, Raph was the first to leap out from the safety of the shadows and quickly grab a hold of the boy's hood, turning him around in a jolted spin and violently smashing him up against the hard wall. The woman shrieked in fear as Raphael forced his closed fist into the thug's stomach, causing him to double over in pain.
As Donatello moved in for the blonde boy with his nunchuck tightly gripped in his right hand, the woman took the opportunity to escape, her heels clicking rapidly against the concrete as she ran out of the alley and down the left end of the street.
Recognizing the fear that flashed in the teenager's eyes as he closed in on him, Donnie spun a roundhouse kick to the side of his left shoulder, causing him to collapse headfirst to the ground. When the boy never got up, Don realized he'd knocked him unconscious, probably a result of a severe blow to the head when he hit the ground.
"Hey!" Raphael's voice quickly alerted him. Looking up, he saw that Raph had taken care of the hooded thug, who lay in a motionless heap by his feet. "Where'd he go?"
Realizing who he was referring to, Donatello whipped his head around to search the alley for the youngest of the three. There was no one but them in the alley, nor was there any sound of footsteps. "He... he must've taken off," Donnie breathed, the adrenaline still pumping madly in his veins.
"Fuck!" Raphael swore, kicking the dumpster nearby in a poor attempt to get rid of the anger that still resided within him.
Don turned back to look out the alley's exit, where the light from outside leaked in. "I could go after him," he offered, still holding his substitute weapon in his hand as he turned to look at his brother.
Raph shook his head. "Juz ferget it," he said, rubbing his face in obvious irritation. "We ain't never gonna see that kid again."
Donnie nodded and belted the 'chuck before pulling up the collar around his neck, making sure he was properly disguised should any of the thugs come back to the world of consciousness.
Sliding the one sai he'd armed himself with into his belt, Raphael stepped around the cataleptic thug and nonchalantly passed Donatello. "I'll find a payphone," he called over his shoulder, stepping out into the street and turning a left. "Keep an eye on 'em."
Despite the fact that his brother couldn't see him, Don nodded, trying to put his scattered thoughts back together.
One of them got away, which Raph would be pissed about for awhile, but once they got back home and he got to take out his remaining anger on that poor punching bag of his, he'd be back to his normal sarcastic self.
Sighing to himself, Donatello walked over to the boy he'd knocked out. He crouched to the boy's level and carefully turned him over, discovering the reason for his unconsciousness. There was a large bruise on the left side of his forehead, and some of the blood had already painted his short, blonde hair red. Afraid he might've severely hurt him, he quickly pressed his fingers to the boy's throat.
There was still a steady pulse. Most likely he'd gotten a concussion, but it wasn't bad enough for them not to leave him for the cops. Relieved, Donnie moved along to check his pockets for any concealed weapons. They hadn't used anything on the woman, but maybe they figured threats and violence were all that was needed. After all, there had been three of them pressing her up against that brick wall, which would scare any person half to death.
Realizing he didn't have anything on him, Donatello rose to his feet and made his way over to the other boy. He was lying in fetal position on the asphalt, a small bruise on his right temple. Based on his curled up posture on the ground, however, Don figured Raph's kick to the abdomen was what had turned out his lights. Leaning over to check his leather jacket, Don was shocked to find a black gun in his inside pocket. Looking at the small weapon in his hand, he was a little stunned that these things still managed to surprise him every time. It seemed half the kids they came across on the streets carried one.
Nonetheless, it was a gun, and that would always shock him. He'd never liked guns, and it wasn't just because he disliked violence in general – ninja as he may have been – guns carried a lack of honor a sword or a staff didn't. When pointing a gun at someone, they were completely robbed of the chance to defend themselves, and like Leo had once said when they'd come across another one almost a year ago:
'Where's the talent in firing a bullet?'
Carefully rubbing his thumb over the sharp trigger of the weapon, as if afraid his very touch would make it go off, Don quickly realized he didn't want to know. In that moment he knew he would always be uncomfortable around guns.
Pulling up the collar around his neck, Raphael glanced at the red Volkswagen that passed him by on the street, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable walking in the open like this. Of course he didn't want to look like he was nervous, which might attract unwanted attention, so he simply put both his hands into his pockets, fiddling with the group of coins that resided there in case of a situation just like this one.
Recognizing the sound behind him, he suddenly froze in his steps.
"What did you do to my brother!"
Slowly turning around, Raph was very startled when he found himself staring into the crying eyes of the last thug, standing only a few feet away with a gun in his grip. Even though he'd never had anyone hold a gun on him before, Raph somehow knew that outdrawn 'click' had been the sound of a hammer being cocked.
He just knew.
"Hey," Raph said, taking out his hands from his pockets with calm slowness, so as not to upset the boy in his dangerously fragile state. "Why n'tcha stop wavin' that thing be-"
"WHAT DID YA DO TO 'IM!" the boy demanded, his cheeks streaked with tears.
A cold fear seemed to blossom in the pit of Raph's stomach, spreading viperously fast throughout his body and paralyzing his limbs in a way he'd never experienced before. He was at a disadvantage to this kid, and the feeling was completely new to him. He didn't know what to do or say, or even how to react. Usually his first reaction was anger, but at the moment he was far too scared to show any kind of strong emotion.
He literally had to remind himself to breathe.
"Look," he carefully began, holding up his hands to prove he had no intention of attacking him. "Juz put away yer gun so we c--"
"SHUT UP!" the boy cried, taking a step closer, the gun still raised at the level of his shoulders. "You fucking tell me what you did to 'im, or I swear I'll shoot you! I'll fucking... I'll blow your brains out! Ya hear me?" His desperate stare bore into the very core of Raph's being, and despite his deepest wishes, he couldn't find any sanity in them.
Raphael nodded slowly, swallowing a lump that didn't seem to go away on his command. Suddenly, he found his thoughts drifting back to Donatello, instantly fearing for his safety. Maybe he'd already been in the alley, maybe he'd found the bodies on the ground and thought...
No, he would have heard it. He would've definitely heard the shot.
...Wouldn't he?
Unable to block out the image of his purple-masked brother on the ground, motionless and bleeding, a new kind of pain suddenly twisted his gut, catching his throat in heart wrenching fire. Trying to think rationally through this chaos of emotions, Raphael kept reminding himself that he would have heard the gunshot. Hell, he even caught the sound of the hammer being pulled back.
He would've heard the gunshot.
"Put down the gun."
Awoken by the arrival of this new, calm, and very familiar voice, Raph turned to look at the entrance of the alley, another ten feet behind the armed teen. Standing by the corner of the building, half his body illuminated by the nearby street light, Donatello held a gun of his own, pointed at the back of the kid who stood between them.
Turning to look over his shoulder, the boy quickly discovered the sudden arrival of Donnie. The fact that he was also armed didn't seem to go unnoticed to him, for he nervously began to fiddle with his own weapon.
"I said, put down the gun," Don repeated, his voice still calm as he spoke, although Raph could tell he was anything but calm; his entire being seemed to tremble with fear.
The boy turned back to look at Raph, the desperation in his eyes having transformed into panic, the tears running down his face gone dry.
"I'm serious," Donatello urged, raising his hand a little higher, holding the gun a little tighter. "Put it down."
The kid nervously looked between the two of them, his hand shaking violently as he tried to grasp the situation. Finally, he threw the weapon into the street and ran, making a big half circle around Raph as he continued down the road. He turned one of the corners and disappeared, his feet still echoing in the heavy silence of the night.
Raphael let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turned back to look at Don, his arms feeling like they were made out of cement as they dropped to his sides, heavy beyond his comprehension. He met Donatello's eyes, staring at him long and hard, none of them uttering a single word.
The fear he'd recognized in his brother's eyes finally seemed to wear off, replaced by the warm sense of relief that had washed over his own body. Breathing heavily, Donnie's stare moved down to his hand, widening in shock as he discovered the gun. As if suddenly burned by it, he released his tight grasp on the weapon and let it fall to the ground, wincing when it made a short, screeching noise as it hit the asphalt. He looked up to meet Raph's puzzled gaze, a strange sense of shock radiating from his eyes, as if he was stunned by his own behavior, almost disgusted with himself.
Raph lowered his stare to the gun by his brother's feet, remembering the feeling of having someone point that at him. It was the most terrible thing he'd ever felt, the fear taking over him like it had, almost choking his being on every rational thought he knew.
He realized then how useless they were.
Christ, they'd practiced ninjutsu for almost twelve years now, taking out more Foot members than any file could possibly keep track. Yet the moment someone showed up to point a gun at one of them, they immediately slipped into the state of everyone else in the world – helpless.