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Rain. Great. Renald had just got the fire started and already the kindling it burned was getting wet. He hurried back to the relative dryness of his hovel, covered by a tattered cloth roof, and watched as the flames hissed out into smoke. He wrapped the small chicken he purchased for dinner in newspaper and stuffed it back into his icebox, hoping for a reprieve soon. He was low on salt and the ice would only keep for so long, and who knows how long it would take to save up for meat again?
Renald looked down at the end of his alleyway. Sheets of rain fell relentlessly, but he could make out objects moving near the road – headlights heralded the passing of vehicles and black shadows hurrying past on the sidewalk did their best to get out of the inclement weather. His makeshift shack rested against the dead end of the alleyway, flanked on either side by grimy walls with no windows.
He tried to relax, focusing on the calming rhythm of water pattering against the concrete. At least he was alone. The rain should scare off any danger, even if drops of rain fell through the tatters of his cover.
A white umbrella stopped at the entrance of his alleyway. The shaded figure beneath turned and strolled down towards him, heavy boots splashing in the paddles forming along the concrete. Renald’s heart hammered in his chest. Maybe it was someone who got lost and needed directions. It could even be a good Samaritan, seeing a fellow human being suffering in the rain and coming to help.
Oh man, was hunger making him delirious?
A streetlight near the entrance to the alleyway shone some light towards Renald, but it wasn’t much to see by. The figure with the white umbrella stopped just before the overhang of the cloth roof. Renald stared at the boots, afraid of looking up at the face he was sure would be there. After all, how many people would stroll down an alleyway to talk to a homeless man in the middle of the rain?
“Look at me.”
Renald clenched his teeth. The voice removed all doubt as to who it was. He stood and met Locen’s gaze, doing his best to match the intensity. Unfortunately, those fiery cobalt eyes and square jaw turned Renald’s spine to jelly. He took a reflexive step backwards as Locen snorted, water dripping from his long black locks. The intimidating man gripped the umbrella in one hand and a hessian sack in the other.
“Hello, Locen.”
Locen narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood to mess around today. Maybe he would skip the beating as well. “I’ve come for your loose change, peasant.”
Apparently it wasn’t enough to live hand to mouth in the slums of Markov. He had to be bullied, robbed and threatened with physical violence as well.
Renald glanced at his knapsack. There were only his clothes and blankets inside, and Locen had already picked through it, taking what articles he decided were worthy. He had used all of his scrounged money to purchase the chicken, so he couldn’t give him cash. Renald winced pre-emptively for the beating he knew would be coming.
“I don’t have any.”
Locen’s eyebrows furrowed. “You what?”
“I spent it on food,” Renald said, his eyes glancing to his icebox. “And ice, I suppose.”
“You bought food with my money on my pay day?” Locen asked, taking heavy steps towards Renald. “I thought you knew better than that.”
“I’ve got to eat!” Renald said, the desperation of the situation finally sinking in. “I can’t live off bin scraps forever!”
Locen put down his umbrella and rolled up the sleeves on his jacket, ignoring the rain splashing on his skin. “That’s really not my problem.”
A strong wind blew past Renald’s head from behind. Before he could turn to face its direction, Locen let out a surprised cry and stumbled backwards. A dark shadow landed in a crouch before him into a puddle and slowly rose to a stand. The figure reached for two handles extending over its shoulders and a scraping of metal sounded as two swords appeared.
Renald swallowed down a lump in this throat. Who carried swords and leapt out of the shadows like that? Was this another thief, robbing Locen who was going to rob him? And would he turn on Renald as well?
Locen regained his footing and growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bastard?!”
“Bastard?” the mysterious figure rebuked, anger in his voice. “You try to steal from this obviously destitute man and you call me the bastard? Do you have any idea how you sound?”
Locen laughed, a sound so unexpected and strange in the current situation that Renald jumped. “What do we have here? A righteous vigilante watching over the poor and downtrodden? I wouldn’t have thought a shithole like Markov could create something so ridiculous.”
“It didn’t,” the figure said. “But that’s beside the point. Get moving or you’ll have to deal with me.”
A bolt of lightning crackled in the black sky, illuminating the alleyway for the briefest of moments. The sword wielder’s skin was green. His back had an oval shaped protrusion, brown in colour with two sword sheathes strapped to it. He caught a flash of something blue as well but the light died before he could register it properly.
Was he an alien? Or maybe a superhero in some sort of obscure costume? In any case, why would he bother to help a man like him?
The mystery figure’s words had stilled Locen. He rolled his eyebrows as if considering how to react. In a swift movement, Locen reached into his jacket and pulled out a revolver. In that same moment, the sword wielder took a long stride forward and slashed. The blade hit the gun as Locen took it out and tore it from his hand. It clanged against the alleyway wall and dropped into a puddle.
The tip of the second sword touched Locen’s throat. The mystery figure pressed lightly into it, making Locen step backwards to stop the blade from piercing him.
“Get… out… now,” the mystery figure said. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”
Locen’s fiery glare rested on the swordsman for a moment, then switched to Renald and lingered on him. He could read that glare. You did this, it said. You organised this humiliation. You will pay.
With a furious snort, Locen stepped away. He snatched his white umbrella resting in a puddle and strode away without looking back.
Renald held his breath as the mystery figure turned around, slipping his swords back into their sheathes. The adrenaline ran high as he approached. Renald’s eyes adjusted to the dark after the flash and the shadowed figure grew more detailed. Muscular and naked except for a cloth wrap around the eyes, the figure definitely wasn’t human. It could still be a costume, but the way his limbs moved and the shimmer of water pelting his skin made that seem unlikely.
“Are you OK?” the mystery figure asked. “I hope he didn’t hurt you.”
Renald found his mouth dry as he spoke. “I… I’m fine. You… you aren’t going to rob me now, are you?”
“What?” the figure said, his tone surprised. “No, of course not. I was protecting you from that gang banger.”
“Oh,” Renald said. He tried to calm himself, breathing slower and deeper, but the thought of those two swords kept the heart pumping.
“I’m Leo. Leonardo,” the figure said, extending a three-fingered hand.
Renald took it slowly. The creature’s skin was smooth and cold. “Renald.”
“Do you know that guy?” Leonardo said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
“All too well,” Renald said. “There’s a gang that likes to pick on those of us… less advantaged than others. Which, to be fair, is a large portion of Markov.”
Leonardo nodded his head. “I’ve encountered a lot of members of the Red Serpents in my time here. They’re everywhere, like cockroaches. And no one stands up to them.”
“Stand up to them? There’s not much we can do,” Renald said, shrugging. Talking to Leonardo eased his nerves. Maybe he was being genuine about not wanting to rob him. “There’s so many of them. If you aren’t a poor person on the streets, you’re a poor person working for the Red Serpents.”
“Have you ever thought of rising up against them?”
“How would we do that? They’re armed and co-ordinated. And well resourced. We are none of those. Plus a lot of us aren’t fighters. We just fell on hard times. Or for the lucky ones, born into it.”
Leonardo’s face grew stern. Strangely, Renald couldn’t see any pupils or irises through the mask he wore over his eyes. “A discussion for another time. I’m glad that you’re alright.” The green skinned creature started to walk off but stopped and turned. “Actually, do you want me to stay with you? That creep might come back if he thinks I’m gone.”
Renald gulped. He still didn’t trust this Leonardo yet, but he had so far shown him nothing but kindness. It could be a ruse to gain his trust and rob him, but what did Renald have left anyway? Besides, with those mean looking blades strapped to his back, Leonardo could have taken whatever he wanted by now. Trust was not something easily given on the streets, and Leonardo wouldn’t get it entirely, but it was definitely better for him to remain than having to wait out the storm alone.
“Sure,” Renald said. “Come get out of the rain.”
Leonardo jogged back to the makeshift shelter, pressing what looked like a shell on his back against the alleyway end. The tattered sheet above them was damp and dripping with rain where it didn’t let it through a hole. A fire was out of the question, but maybe when the rain ceased it would be possible.
“So, uh… I probably shouldn’t bring this up but… why aren’t you scared of me?” Leonardo asked.
Renald eyed him. “You stand out, for sure. But Markov isn’t just populated with humans. There’s plenty of aliens here.”
“Well I’m not an alien,” Leonardo said. “I’m a mutated turtle. Well technically, I’m from another dimension, but one where humans are the dominant species. So I guess I’m sort of an alien? Just not one from outer space.”
Renald nodded as if he was absorbing what the mutant was saying. “I see.”
“So… have you seen anyone else that looks like me?” Leonardo asked. “Green skin, shell on their back, a different coloured mask?”
“No, sorry,” Renald said. “I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”
“Yeah,” Leonardo said. “I guess we’re pretty striking.”
The rain continued to tumble down. The puddles lining the alleyway walls expanded, their surfaces rippling with every raindrop.
“Are they your family?” Renald asked.
“Yeah, my brothers,” Leonardo said. “Plus my father. Though he’s a mutated rat. We all got separated. I don’t remember how we lost each other, or even how we got here. To be honest, I don’t even know if they’re in this city or on this planet.” He sighed. “I’ve been looking for them for a while. I hope they’re alright, wherever they are.”
“Markov’s a big city,” Renald said. “Cevanti’s even bigger.”
Leonardo stared off into the rain. “If I can’t find them, I have to find a way back home.” The mutated turtle looked at Renald. “Do you know anyone who would know for sure? Someone connected to the gossip throughout the city?”
“If there was anyone, they would be part of the Red Serpents,” Renald said. “There’s no way they wouldn’t know everything going on. I’m sure they were already aware of you before you stood up to Locen.”
“Right,” Leonardo said. “That makes things difficult. I guess I’ll need to infiltrate them, work my way around until I discover someone who knows something. Or start threatening their thugs on the streets until one talks.”
A turtle on a mission. Obviously, his brothers were important to him. “What does your family look like? I might see them later on. I can keep an eye out for them if I know what they look like.”
“Pretty similar to me,” Leonardo said. “They all have tan arm and knee pads and an eye mask, though everyone has a different colour. They all have different weapons, too. Master Splinter is a grey rat with tan robes. Kinda hard to miss, all of them. In fact…”
The sword wielding turtle stood up. “…I think I’ll continue my search. Every moment I waste is another moment my family could be in trouble.” Leonardo placed his palms together and bowed until his upper body was parallel with the ground. “Thank you for your help. I hope fate brings us together again one day.”
With that, the mutated turtle spun on his heel and jumped onto the alleyway wall. He leapt again and the shadows claimed his form. Renald hoped he would see him again. Especially if Locen decided to make a return trip.
Renald looked down at the end of his alleyway. Sheets of rain fell relentlessly, but he could make out objects moving near the road – headlights heralded the passing of vehicles and black shadows hurrying past on the sidewalk did their best to get out of the inclement weather. His makeshift shack rested against the dead end of the alleyway, flanked on either side by grimy walls with no windows.
He tried to relax, focusing on the calming rhythm of water pattering against the concrete. At least he was alone. The rain should scare off any danger, even if drops of rain fell through the tatters of his cover.
A white umbrella stopped at the entrance of his alleyway. The shaded figure beneath turned and strolled down towards him, heavy boots splashing in the paddles forming along the concrete. Renald’s heart hammered in his chest. Maybe it was someone who got lost and needed directions. It could even be a good Samaritan, seeing a fellow human being suffering in the rain and coming to help.
Oh man, was hunger making him delirious?
A streetlight near the entrance to the alleyway shone some light towards Renald, but it wasn’t much to see by. The figure with the white umbrella stopped just before the overhang of the cloth roof. Renald stared at the boots, afraid of looking up at the face he was sure would be there. After all, how many people would stroll down an alleyway to talk to a homeless man in the middle of the rain?
“Look at me.”
Renald clenched his teeth. The voice removed all doubt as to who it was. He stood and met Locen’s gaze, doing his best to match the intensity. Unfortunately, those fiery cobalt eyes and square jaw turned Renald’s spine to jelly. He took a reflexive step backwards as Locen snorted, water dripping from his long black locks. The intimidating man gripped the umbrella in one hand and a hessian sack in the other.
“Hello, Locen.”
Locen narrowed his eyes. He was in no mood to mess around today. Maybe he would skip the beating as well. “I’ve come for your loose change, peasant.”
Apparently it wasn’t enough to live hand to mouth in the slums of Markov. He had to be bullied, robbed and threatened with physical violence as well.
Renald glanced at his knapsack. There were only his clothes and blankets inside, and Locen had already picked through it, taking what articles he decided were worthy. He had used all of his scrounged money to purchase the chicken, so he couldn’t give him cash. Renald winced pre-emptively for the beating he knew would be coming.
“I don’t have any.”
Locen’s eyebrows furrowed. “You what?”
“I spent it on food,” Renald said, his eyes glancing to his icebox. “And ice, I suppose.”
“You bought food with my money on my pay day?” Locen asked, taking heavy steps towards Renald. “I thought you knew better than that.”
“I’ve got to eat!” Renald said, the desperation of the situation finally sinking in. “I can’t live off bin scraps forever!”
Locen put down his umbrella and rolled up the sleeves on his jacket, ignoring the rain splashing on his skin. “That’s really not my problem.”
A strong wind blew past Renald’s head from behind. Before he could turn to face its direction, Locen let out a surprised cry and stumbled backwards. A dark shadow landed in a crouch before him into a puddle and slowly rose to a stand. The figure reached for two handles extending over its shoulders and a scraping of metal sounded as two swords appeared.
Renald swallowed down a lump in this throat. Who carried swords and leapt out of the shadows like that? Was this another thief, robbing Locen who was going to rob him? And would he turn on Renald as well?
Locen regained his footing and growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, bastard?!”
“Bastard?” the mysterious figure rebuked, anger in his voice. “You try to steal from this obviously destitute man and you call me the bastard? Do you have any idea how you sound?”
Locen laughed, a sound so unexpected and strange in the current situation that Renald jumped. “What do we have here? A righteous vigilante watching over the poor and downtrodden? I wouldn’t have thought a shithole like Markov could create something so ridiculous.”
“It didn’t,” the figure said. “But that’s beside the point. Get moving or you’ll have to deal with me.”
A bolt of lightning crackled in the black sky, illuminating the alleyway for the briefest of moments. The sword wielder’s skin was green. His back had an oval shaped protrusion, brown in colour with two sword sheathes strapped to it. He caught a flash of something blue as well but the light died before he could register it properly.
Was he an alien? Or maybe a superhero in some sort of obscure costume? In any case, why would he bother to help a man like him?
The mystery figure’s words had stilled Locen. He rolled his eyebrows as if considering how to react. In a swift movement, Locen reached into his jacket and pulled out a revolver. In that same moment, the sword wielder took a long stride forward and slashed. The blade hit the gun as Locen took it out and tore it from his hand. It clanged against the alleyway wall and dropped into a puddle.
The tip of the second sword touched Locen’s throat. The mystery figure pressed lightly into it, making Locen step backwards to stop the blade from piercing him.
“Get… out… now,” the mystery figure said. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”
Locen’s fiery glare rested on the swordsman for a moment, then switched to Renald and lingered on him. He could read that glare. You did this, it said. You organised this humiliation. You will pay.
With a furious snort, Locen stepped away. He snatched his white umbrella resting in a puddle and strode away without looking back.
Renald held his breath as the mystery figure turned around, slipping his swords back into their sheathes. The adrenaline ran high as he approached. Renald’s eyes adjusted to the dark after the flash and the shadowed figure grew more detailed. Muscular and naked except for a cloth wrap around the eyes, the figure definitely wasn’t human. It could still be a costume, but the way his limbs moved and the shimmer of water pelting his skin made that seem unlikely.
“Are you OK?” the mystery figure asked. “I hope he didn’t hurt you.”
Renald found his mouth dry as he spoke. “I… I’m fine. You… you aren’t going to rob me now, are you?”
“What?” the figure said, his tone surprised. “No, of course not. I was protecting you from that gang banger.”
“Oh,” Renald said. He tried to calm himself, breathing slower and deeper, but the thought of those two swords kept the heart pumping.
“I’m Leo. Leonardo,” the figure said, extending a three-fingered hand.
Renald took it slowly. The creature’s skin was smooth and cold. “Renald.”
“Do you know that guy?” Leonardo said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
“All too well,” Renald said. “There’s a gang that likes to pick on those of us… less advantaged than others. Which, to be fair, is a large portion of Markov.”
Leonardo nodded his head. “I’ve encountered a lot of members of the Red Serpents in my time here. They’re everywhere, like cockroaches. And no one stands up to them.”
“Stand up to them? There’s not much we can do,” Renald said, shrugging. Talking to Leonardo eased his nerves. Maybe he was being genuine about not wanting to rob him. “There’s so many of them. If you aren’t a poor person on the streets, you’re a poor person working for the Red Serpents.”
“Have you ever thought of rising up against them?”
“How would we do that? They’re armed and co-ordinated. And well resourced. We are none of those. Plus a lot of us aren’t fighters. We just fell on hard times. Or for the lucky ones, born into it.”
Leonardo’s face grew stern. Strangely, Renald couldn’t see any pupils or irises through the mask he wore over his eyes. “A discussion for another time. I’m glad that you’re alright.” The green skinned creature started to walk off but stopped and turned. “Actually, do you want me to stay with you? That creep might come back if he thinks I’m gone.”
Renald gulped. He still didn’t trust this Leonardo yet, but he had so far shown him nothing but kindness. It could be a ruse to gain his trust and rob him, but what did Renald have left anyway? Besides, with those mean looking blades strapped to his back, Leonardo could have taken whatever he wanted by now. Trust was not something easily given on the streets, and Leonardo wouldn’t get it entirely, but it was definitely better for him to remain than having to wait out the storm alone.
“Sure,” Renald said. “Come get out of the rain.”
Leonardo jogged back to the makeshift shelter, pressing what looked like a shell on his back against the alleyway end. The tattered sheet above them was damp and dripping with rain where it didn’t let it through a hole. A fire was out of the question, but maybe when the rain ceased it would be possible.
“So, uh… I probably shouldn’t bring this up but… why aren’t you scared of me?” Leonardo asked.
Renald eyed him. “You stand out, for sure. But Markov isn’t just populated with humans. There’s plenty of aliens here.”
“Well I’m not an alien,” Leonardo said. “I’m a mutated turtle. Well technically, I’m from another dimension, but one where humans are the dominant species. So I guess I’m sort of an alien? Just not one from outer space.”
Renald nodded as if he was absorbing what the mutant was saying. “I see.”
“So… have you seen anyone else that looks like me?” Leonardo asked. “Green skin, shell on their back, a different coloured mask?”
“No, sorry,” Renald said. “I’m sure I’d remember if I had.”
“Yeah,” Leonardo said. “I guess we’re pretty striking.”
The rain continued to tumble down. The puddles lining the alleyway walls expanded, their surfaces rippling with every raindrop.
“Are they your family?” Renald asked.
“Yeah, my brothers,” Leonardo said. “Plus my father. Though he’s a mutated rat. We all got separated. I don’t remember how we lost each other, or even how we got here. To be honest, I don’t even know if they’re in this city or on this planet.” He sighed. “I’ve been looking for them for a while. I hope they’re alright, wherever they are.”
“Markov’s a big city,” Renald said. “Cevanti’s even bigger.”
Leonardo stared off into the rain. “If I can’t find them, I have to find a way back home.” The mutated turtle looked at Renald. “Do you know anyone who would know for sure? Someone connected to the gossip throughout the city?”
“If there was anyone, they would be part of the Red Serpents,” Renald said. “There’s no way they wouldn’t know everything going on. I’m sure they were already aware of you before you stood up to Locen.”
“Right,” Leonardo said. “That makes things difficult. I guess I’ll need to infiltrate them, work my way around until I discover someone who knows something. Or start threatening their thugs on the streets until one talks.”
A turtle on a mission. Obviously, his brothers were important to him. “What does your family look like? I might see them later on. I can keep an eye out for them if I know what they look like.”
“Pretty similar to me,” Leonardo said. “They all have tan arm and knee pads and an eye mask, though everyone has a different colour. They all have different weapons, too. Master Splinter is a grey rat with tan robes. Kinda hard to miss, all of them. In fact…”
The sword wielding turtle stood up. “…I think I’ll continue my search. Every moment I waste is another moment my family could be in trouble.” Leonardo placed his palms together and bowed until his upper body was parallel with the ground. “Thank you for your help. I hope fate brings us together again one day.”
With that, the mutated turtle spun on his heel and jumped onto the alleyway wall. He leapt again and the shadows claimed his form. Renald hoped he would see him again. Especially if Locen decided to make a return trip.