Part 11: Attached

New York, 07:41 am, July 7th, 1999

Brioni

A new day breaks. It's cold under this pile of old newspapers. Returning home would be a wise choice. Home to mother...
Crawling slowly out of the barrel...look, it's the sun, and it's beauti--

"Aaarrrhhh!!"

Hurrying back into the damp wooden barrel again, as if being charged nastily by some horned, massive animal...
Lying still, shocked, and with eyes big and round like wheels...I taste something. I feel something. Is it-- yes, it is.

Blood.

New York, 06: 07 am, July 7th, 1999

Paula

Man, I'm bushed!
The flight was of course longer than expected because of that little incident-- which I'm still freaked out about-- and once we got to La Guardia, it took us about fifty years to find our lugagge.
Me and Charly stumbled into my apartment only half an hour ago. I would sleep until doomsday if there wasn't so much stuff keeping me awake.

On the way home, naturally, Charly had to stop just about everywhere, every time he saw something he recognized, something he drew a meaning or some little anecdote to. He hasn't been in New York for a long time, and I understand that, but when you're tired and depressed and anxious, things like that can truly get you edgy!
We've both apologized more than once. And it seems like we're sorta trying to forget about what happened with the plane.
Things like that happen all the time, we're saying to ourselves, and we were very lucky.
But it's stuff like that which makes you wonder if there really is some form of higher power...

And it's a well known fact that you really shouldn't be thinking about those issues at 06:00 in the morning.

Oh, what the heck. I won't be able to sleep anyway. Maybe I should just stay up the rest of the morning...and sleep in later.
Then I can go and see if the guys are okay, perhaps in the evening.
Kylie, the experienced, and her little daughter Sheila...Raph, Kylie's feisty boyfriend-- and there's Don...

The downright reason why I came here, no doubt.

Today I've caught myself many times thinking that if something had occured to them, then I wouldn't be forced to make up a choice about him-- and when I think that, I feel like slapping myself.
That's taking the easy way out, the road of the yellow bellied one...
And holy-- certainly I don't want anything to happen to them! Not a chance.

My stomach is once more filled with those well known butterflies, but they are flapping more frantically in there than they have done in an awfully long time. I don't think I remember the last time I've ever been this nervous.
If anything, that would have to be when he was actually there. When things happened that I was bound to respond to.
I know I can't hide forever. Some day I have to come right out and decide what to do about it all...

But when's that gonna be?

New York, 21:45 pm, July 7th, 1999

Don

Mikey's in the livingroom, mopping up and washing off the blood from the wall.
I offered to do it, but he refused my help.
In the least he's looking better now, only got a mild headache...after I'm done in here, I'm gonna persuade him to take a shower-- although he probably shouldn't get too much water on his bandages.
His arm got slashed up pretty good and there's the bandage on his head...maybe I'll just help him wash up instead...can't get the Ban Aid all soggy...

I can imagine how he must be feeling right now. God...finding your place like that...a loved one missing.
And possibly dead. It's happened to us too many times to count.
This time it's even worse, I mean, I...it was his first girlfriend! Sure, he's had some flirts over the years, but let's face it;
there's not many people who wanna get involved with someone who's another species than themselves!
So there's been nothing. For neither of us.
Unless...well, there's always Raph and Kylie...that was a long time ago. He was like, what-- 16, 17 years or something?
It's still unbelievable that they've hooked up again. Kinda amazing. A chance meeting, sorta.

Raph's...in a way, Raph's easier to cope with when stuff like this happens.
Sure, it's not too convinient that he keeps running off, but...anger's easier to deal with. With Mikey...he's sorta just went numb, and I don't like that. Seldom have I seen him like this. I almost wish that he was angry or sad instead, that he would scream or cry or whatever, but no-- he's just numb, cleaning away the blood. He must have a hell inside.

Not that I've reacted too much, either. Now I know how the others must've felt everytime I just shut myself up and didn't say a word, didn't cry, didn't explode...it's hard to deal with, no response...
What would've really scared me, was if Raph had reacted that way. I would be on my toes, holding my breath, just waiting for him to blow up into fury. If he didn't-- well, then I'd suspected him to be ill! That's not our Raph...
Leo, however, he...he's too calm. Hey, it's a great ability, and I admire him, but it's a well known fact that if you never let yourself explode, you become a ball of stress. You get nervous. You have to let yourself go once in a while.
That's just how it is. Yeah, I'm usually calm, but I do not go to the extremes that Leo does.
I believe he likes to fight with Raph. It's his therapy. And Raph's.
Now I'm finished drying up-- and cleaning out the shower stall, which was full of the blood of foot soldiers, that had incrusted itself on me-- and I put on one of Mikey's bathrobes. Size XXL, to fit over our carapaces.

"Hey, Mike?" I step out of the small bathroom and into the livingroom, and he looks up from the floor and the mop, with an odd expression on his face, like he's sort of surprised to see that there still excists livings beings other than himself in the world. He's found his old, orange bandanna, and he's got it tied around his head, like a pirate skull-cap, to cover his bandages, maybe. The letters are gone from the wall, and the reason why he's mopping the floor is because the blood's been dripping down on it. Both before it was dry, and when he was washing it away, intermingling with the water, thinning it out...

"Donny," he nods at me, and stands up, resting on the handle of the mop. The other end of it is soaked in light red liquid.

"Um, perhaps you wanna hit the shower now," I suggest, hoping that he'll accept. It can't be all too healthy for a guy's psyche to walk around with blood all over him.
At least I think the smell's nauseating, though I have no idea of what's going on in his mind right now. If he even notices.
All I know is that I'm not comfotable with the look on his face.

"When I'm finished," he replies, staring unblinkingly at me. I clear my throat, "You want something to eat? Cause I could--"

"Naw, forget it. I'll grab something later. I'm not hungry. But you just help yourself..."

He's not hungry. That I can understand. That I can symphasize with. Sometimes I think that it wasn't so bad that we didn't have too much food, because heck, half the time we didn't have any appetite for it, anyways...
But still...he should eat something. Maybe later. He's definitely not in any condition to be pushed.

After about fifteen minutes of  brewing most of the vegetables in Mikey's fridge into something edible-- what with the recent carnage, I'm just not in a very meaty kind of mood-- and sipping some coffee while I wait for my dinner to finish cooking, the sound of running water is heard.
Mike's finally gotten into the shower. I know I have excellent hearing-- we all do-- but this is one of the rare times that I wish I didn't.
Strangled sobs are eminating from the bathroom, intertwining with snippets of desperate cursing.
Dead silent, I sit on the chair, my own eyes watering, a chill running over me. I don't move until the smell of scorched broccoli reach my sensitive nostrils.
I have to get my little brother out of this apartment, and now.

New York, 22:55 pm, July 7th, 1999

Mike

Don's really fussing over me. He begged me to eat something, and eventually I forced down a dinner roll that Brioni and I boug-- gaah.
We bought them on Monday. We were supposed to have like this Italian dinner today, with ravioli and stuff.
Oh, Jesus...

Donny's talked me into going over to Kylie's apartment. Yeah, looks like I've been missing out on a few things, but Donny's filled me in on the details of what they've all been up to.
Apparently, Raph sneaked on a plane and flew all the way over to France, and now he's back together with Kylie. Never knew the guy had it in him.Well, okay, so it wasn't that romatic. He had needed a place where the Foot couldn't get to him. But it looks like they did.
Anyway, it'd be kind neat to see ol' Kylie again. She was really sumthin'. Hope Raph's not gonna blow it, cause it'd be great to have her in our family.
Heh, now I'm prolly getting ahead of myself. Raph getting married? I dunno. Somehow, though, I can sorta picture it.
Though I guess he won't be wearing a tux at the time.
On the other hand, there's no telling what Kylie Fisher can be able to talk that poor guy into. He won't admit it, but he knows she's got him right there, eating from her palm. Then it's a good thing she cares about ol' Rapho, cause elseways she could really take advantage of him.
Ha, I bet she's already convinced him to try cooking. And there's the baby, Sheila. Bet he's adorable with her, hehe...

Donny's sorta crossing the line to frantic. Feeding me, clothing me-- yup, he pressed me into a clean trenchcoat, jogging pants and a hat-- even a scarf! He's acting like I've got a cold or whatever. I think he's got a few things the wrong way around. I'm just depressed. And pissed off at whoever did this. Sheesh-- Don A. Tello, the techno genious even offered to make cocoa for me. I said no, in fear that he'd burn the place down.
It's not that, he's actually not that bad of a cook, but when he's like this...naww.
But I'll go along with him, though, humour him a bit, cause I know how it's like to be concerned about someone.
He's just doing the best he can. But he's gotta see that I have to deal with my grief, sooner or later. Maybe get some revenge...

New York's experiencing hot summer rain again, just like the day me and Brioni arrived here. The trip was neat, even if I had to go hide in with the suitcases and stuff, as usual. We did drive a bit too, and I'm sure we stopped at least once at a diner. What did we have, again?  Heh, yeah, those soppy french fries, man, were they bad...as were the sugarcrusted soft ices. But it just didn't matter. I was such a ham-- joking with the stupid plastic straws and napkins and going on...
I think...no, I know she needed someone like me with her on that trip. I sorta made her forget a little about the stiff in her apartment...
We had a pretty long wait at the airport, and after raiding the comic stand at the only store that was still open, Brioni fell asleep, halfway through "Escape From Bonevillle" in German.
It was really neat how we appeared to be into the same stuff...ye gods, am I gonna miss her...

Don had Kylie's adress, and now we're standing outside apartment 6B, knocking tryingly at the door. No one seems to be opening. We knock again, harder.

"Raph!" Don hisses, pressing frantically on the door bell. "Kylie? It's us, Don and Mikey!"

"Calm down a little, huh, Donny?" I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Mike," he apologizes, "but he said they'd be here-- what if--"

The door finally opens, and there stands Raph, a grim look on his face, and a bandage on his left arm. Don and me exchange concerned looks, and I instantly know that something severe has happened. We hastily step inside, and Raphael closes the door behind us.

"Raph, what..." Don begins.

Raph just looks at us numbly, "Look outside, on the balcony,"
We hesitate, but eventually shuffle out the balcony door, where we stop dead in our tracks. The messy cadavre on the balcony may or may not qualify as a man anymore. His face is completely squashed. Donny covers his nauseous expression with his hands. I swallow.

"Who is...who was he?" I ask.

Raphael makes an exhausted grimace. "Will. Kylie's ex-husband,"
Don and I look at each other again as an array of possible happenings play across our mind. What could Will have done to make him so mad?

"Shit..." mumbles Don, "And where is Kylie now?"

"You should've been here half an hour ago," says Raph bitterly, "that's when the real fun went on. I've finished cleaning up the place now."

"But Kylie--"

"She ditched with the baby, okay, Donny?" he snaps. "I prolly won't see her again. Ever."

"I'm...I'm sorry," says Don quietly.

"Don't be," Raph sighs, "It's prolly my own fault, it always is. I shoulda handled this differently,"

"Raphael," says Don solemnly, looking at him, "I don't know what happened, but I bet it probably wasn't that easy. Don't blame yourself,"

"That's right," Raph looks away, "you don't know what happened. I shoulda...I shoulda done something."

"What did he do?" I finally speak up.

A fire lits up in Raphael's eyes, "When I get here, the creep is all over Kylie, just about to goddamn rape her, and Kylie hits him, right, and manages to get away, but 'course he gets completely hyper when he sees me, and he suddenly pulls up a gun and everything," I glance at a shiny gun, now resting on the coffee table. Must be the one. "So he barks at Kylie to get the baby, and he thinks he's just gonna get away, right-- and damn, he acted like Kylie had some kind of a mental problem-- but I'm not about ta let him go, so I throw a shuriken at him, and I hit him in the hand, straight in the palm, and he drops the gun, but not before it fires a shot at me..." he goes on, us looking at his bandaged arm, "So he grabs the baby, runs out on the balcony, and then further out on the ledge, and when I follow him, he freaks out beyond compare and threatens to drop Sheila-- from six friggin' storeys! Man...I think he's bullshittin', right, cause it's his own daughter and everything, but whaddaya now-- the jerk actually did it!" Now he's really worked up.

"He dropped the baby?" Don asks, his mouth hanging open.

"Yeah. And then I lost it big time," Raph says hoarsely, "Smashed the guy's face in with a brick. And then it turns out that the baby was alive. She'd landed on a ledge longer down, if you'd believe it. I nearly didn't," he runs a hand across his face.

"Shit, Raph," I whisper.

"Kylie, she...she was really scared of me, you know? She was scared of me..." his voice trails off.

"God..." Don mumbles, sitting down on the couch.

"Looks like this ain't exactly a day fer happy occasions, huh, Mike?"

"No, Raph, it's not..." I answer, staring at the balcony door. Blood...more blood...we can't just keep washing it off forever...

"Look," says Don, finally pulling himself together, "we better dump the body as soon as possible. I say we do it right now."

"Any suggestions?" asks Raph.

"Well..."

It's half an hour later, and here we are, three mutants turtles carrying a dead guy in a garbage bag. Icky.

"I dunno, Don," I protest, hesitantly, "I dunno if it's right to throw a human being on the city dump,"

"Hey, if you got a better solution, let's hear it," interjects Raphael.

"All right, all right," I sigh, shaking my head.
We stop, and steady the bag between ourselves, peering down at the massive piles of New York's trash. A sense of duty pricks my conscience. Leo woulda never approved of this, for one. "Perhaps we should have a small ceremony or something to that effect?" I suggest wearily.

Raphael gives a tired, mischievious grin, "And I'll be the priest." he clears his throat, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust-- hey, jerk, mebbe you shoulda tried controlling your lust? Now yer gone, and your soul is free, so remember till' your next life that there's no messin' with me,"

"Touching," mumbles Don.

"You're sick, Raph, sick," I shake my head.

"Yeah, well," Raph says, voice low, "he was sicker," he hefts the bag from us, and with a groan, he lifts it over his head and throws it down on the awaiting piles.
It goes "Clonk!" as it impacts with an old water cooler, and then rolls quietly downwards, ending up amongst a bunch of commercial leaflets and milk cartons.
I catch myself wondering if our Raphael will ever be happy again.
We stand there, listening to Raph panting silently with suppressed emotions, and Don sighs. "Listen, I have to make a brief visit to my place, have to pick up some of my stuff," he pauses, "the stuff that's not wrecked, that is. So, uh, could you guys please sort of take care of each other until I get back?"

"No problem, mommy," Raphael mutters.

"Naw, that's okay, Donny," I put in, before anyone can have the chance to start bickering, "We'll be fine."

"Okay..." Don turns around and starts walking.

"Hey, Don!" I yell after him. He stops. "What?"
I dig my hand into my pocket, find what I was looking for, and throw it to him. He catches it perfectly, as we all expected.

"Woah," he frowns, "careful, huh?"

"Don't worry, the safety pin's on," I assure him.

"Didn't know you had a gun," Raph looks at me.

"I don't." I say simply. "Then who's is it?" asks Raph.

I turn to Don. "It's Brioni's gun. I want you to keep it withcha tonight, Donny. Just to be on the safe side, 'kay?"

Don finally smiles. "Thanks, Mike."

As we watch his retreating back, a panicky thought suddenly seeps into my brain. "Raph?"

Raph turns to leave. "Come on, let's get out of here. This place is really stinky...hmm? You say something, bro?"

"Raph, would you happen to know where Leo and Jade are?"

He freezes in halfstride, and puts his foot down again. "Oh, shit..."

New York, 21:17 pm, July 7th, 1999

Jade

"Miss Ameigh, would you please put that down?"

"Fuck you."

"Miss Am--"

"How would you have liked to be held against your will?"

"Not much," says the nurse, losing his patience. "But it's not like that, I've told you that many times. After a certain period of time, you are free to go,"

"And how long's that gonna be?" I cock a skeptic eyebrow.

"Like I said--"

"Yeah, yeah...'after a certain period of time'. Maybe a week, maybe a month-- who knows, right? Still, I think this pretty much qualifies as being held captive, which I must admit I've had enough of lately,"

"You have comfortable quarters, you are allowed to go into the garden--"

"Ooh, gee, a prison with stylishy decorated cells! Sorry, I didn't know. I guess that makes it all better," I snort.

"We would appreciate it if you would be a little more cooperative," the nurse sighed, "This is a pretty important discovery, you kn--"

"Hey! We would appreciate it if you could just leave me and Leo alone. This is a violation of civil rights!" I exclaim, and when the nurse opens his mouth, I add darkly, "But I guess that Leo doesn't have too many of those, has he?"

"No." agrees the nurse, looking down. "Listen, Miss Ameigh, please just-- just do as we tell you, okay? It'll soon be over."
He leaves, and I sit down on my bed, putting down the small wooden stool I was threatening him with.
It'll soon be over...what's that supposed to mean? That I get to leave when they've finished shish-kebab'ing Leo and have left his assorted pieces floating in alcohol on sterilized jars? This is so...unfair. Just because he looks different-- okay, very different-- he hasn't got any human rights. What the hell qualifies a human being, anyway? It can't be the looks, cause all people look different, some more than other and...
It's because they see him as an animal. God...what's a half-human, half-turtle supposed to do? Will they ever be treated better?

"Miss Ameigh?"

What does that nurse want now? "Yeah?"
It's not the nurse this time, though. It's a tall, dark woman, wearing a lab coat. "Would you come with me, Miss Ameigh?"
Gaah, I can't abide the way they all keep calling me Miss Ameigh. But I'd be damned if I'm gonna be friendly with this lot, so I'm not about to let them start calling me Jade.

"Do I have a choice?" I ask, already knowing the answer. "Y'okay, I'll come. What're we up to?" I say, before she gets to comments my rudeness.

"We're going to visit..." she glances down at her clipboard, "Leonardo." Her smile is unsettling. Too friendly.

I nod, "Take me to him."

We walk down a couple of corridors, and then turn right, through a double door. This place reminds me too much of a hospital.
In the middle of the room, Leo's doing katas, sort of similar to the ones I did when learning martial arts.
The biggest difference is that he's performing them in a big, crosswire cage. There must be some weird force stopping me from not going bananas on these people, cause I'm that pissed. They're keeping him in a cage...
One of the doctors goes over to Leo and asks him to stop doing "those exercises or that mating dance or whatever it is", because evidently, it upsets the wires they've got stuck to his arms, legs and head. Inside, I'm simmering.

"Leo." I say evenly, and I'm surprised at the force of my voice. It sounds foreign. Everybody turns to me as I walk towards the cage.

"Jade," he looks at me, and I walk as close to him I can manage without touching the cage, cause I'm afraid it'll zap me, or worse.
"Leo," I whisper, "what are you doing?"
He looks at me, almost blankly. "Keeping in shape."
I smile halfly. "Oh. Heh. Well, that's good, because somehow-- I have no idea how, but somehow-- we're gonna get out of this pl--"

"Miss Ameigh," says the tall woman, "I'm afraid that you two aren't allowed to be so secretive."
I glare at her, and she shrugs, "We have to think about your welfare and best interests, and ours." Welfare and best interests, my butt...

"Hey, by the way," I turn to her, "at what time did you invade my home, drug us and bring us here?"

The woman remains unflinchingly, "I would guess it was around 10:30 am today,"
Geez, that means me and Leo slept for nearly a full 24 hours in my bed...but that's no wonder, really, after what we've been through.
I turn to Leo again.

"Leo, perhaps we should just play along for a while, and...and then we'll see what happens. I'll try to keep them from doing-- to put it like this-- nasty stuff to you."
Leo nods, and looks at the doctors. Then he sticks a thick finger out through the narrow bars. I fold my much smaller hand around it.
I give a sad smile, "God, Leonardo. You look like someone's stepped on you,"
"You and me both, kid," he smiles back. I give a half-hearted laugh.

"Okay, Miss Ameigh. Leonardo." the tall, female scientist takes a shallow breath, "It's time for some questions...and some tests."

New York, 00:05 am, July 8th, 1999

Leo

The experiments were through only about two minutes ago. They tried everything from testing my blood to watching my reactions to assorted picture cards.
I was actually tempted to scare them a few times, but I figure that if I do that, they'll increase security.
Though at times, it was so annoying that I-- geez...this is really testing my patience.
What they did first was ask Jade and I all kinds of questions, among others what our relationship was. I think they suspected us having sex together.
What if these scientists suddenly wake up one day and find out that it might be a neat idea to try to fertilize someone with the mutant turtle's sperm?
What if they try it on Jade? I could never forgive myself...

Then they put us in seperate booths and asked us to tell our own versions of how we came to meet and what we thought of the other person.
I don't know what Jade told them, but I knew that it'd be wiser to tell the truth since they got two versions that they could check against each other.
The story I told extended from the woman being mugged to when Jade met me at the phone booth.

After that, they let Jade out. But they told me to remain, and asked me where I lived and where I was born and if I had any relatives. I gave them some bullshit about being a drifterer, taking residence where I could, and running away when someone invaded or found me.
No relatives, I said, and no knowledge of any, either. By the looks of it, they swallowed it whole. I just hope Jade hasn't mentioned my brothers, Splinter, or anything from my past. I told them I was born like this, and didn't know why I was like I was. The truth, me and my family starting out as regular animals, could make them experiment on ordinary animals, and try to make their very own mutants.
I doubt they will ever succeed. The mutagen was, after all, of extraterrestrial origin, and clumsy human hands and minds could never make ooze, not in a million years.
Or so I seriously hope.

When it was over, Jade shot me a relieved look of "Phew-was-that-all?", but I'm sure it wasn't.
This was just day one, and after a while, their scalpels will be itching badly. I feel sick when I think of all the horrible things scientists have done to animals worldwide, and will no doubt do to me-- even if I'm an animal capable of protesting against their actions and reasoning with them.

In the least these people have put a decent bed in here. I was suspecting they'd make me sleep on the floor, like some sort of dog.
Not that my brothers and I have never slept on the floor before.
Each time we had to leave our home, there was always the floor at the end of the escape.
Even if I was tired, I couldn't have slept now. There's too much keeping me awake. Like these damn wires they've stuck all over me. A few hours ago, I tried to dicretely peel one of them off, but that sent all the monitor instruments whaling.

Then there's Jade. It's my fault that she, too, is being held here against her will.
I can't believe her...here I get her into trouble, and still she doesn't blame me, she just...she helps me. She makes promises to get us out of here.
She even...she was even so concerned that she slept in the same room with me, in the same bed.
I've never seen someone go to these great lenghts to help someone before. I don't feel I deserve this. She doesn't deserve this, either, being captured because of some stupid turtle who can't even keep his own family members out of trouble.
If I'd just kept Raph a little more in check, then he'd never gotten mixed up with the Foot again and-- no, I just can't keep blaming myself for Raph, can I?
I can't know where he is all the time, can't follow him around...

We're all grown-ups now. I mean, the guy's twentysix for God's sake! He should've sorta started taking care of himself by now.
But Jade-- that's still my fault. It wasn't Raph, it wasn't.
Sure, I might've still have been captured by The Foot because they were looking for him, but Jade wouldn't be in this mess if it hadn't been for my meddling, my selfish thoughts.
Why didn't I just run away right then and there at the phone booth? She would've never seen me again, and much of this could have been avoided.
She might've been right when she said I think too little of myself, but look where it got me and the people I care for when I didn't!
When-- or if-- I get out of here, I'm going to leave Jade alone.
I'll ruin her life if I stay her friend.

Some of the doctor's are still lurking about the laboratory, scribbling on clipboards and notepads, checking on glass containers and so forth.
Don't these people have homes to go to? Don't they ever punch out?
I sit down on the bed, which bounces lightly under my weight. Maybe I'll just pretend to be asleep so they'll leave me alone...

"Leonardo?"

"Hmm?"

I am in a desert, and a hot, mild breeze strokes my cheeks delicately. There is no vegetation, just rocks and sand, as far as the eye can see...
In the corner of my eye, a shining apparation whispers to me, but only as I turn, it starts to fade away. I saw the shape of something...a woman?
She had a gleaming staff and wild hair...I couldn't see her face.

"Leonardo..."

"Who's there?"

The voice is soft, and it's all around me. As good as my hearing and sense of coordination is, I cannot pinpoint the owner of the voice.

"Leonardo, I will get you and Jade out of here...and the blame isn't yours, trust me..."

"Who are you?" I raise my voice to a strict demand, but the light becomes blinding, and I have to close my eyes and shield them with my hands.

"There's some high brain activity going on here, Simmons!"

When I wake up the desert is gone, and the doctors have strapped me down on a table, beeping machines all around it.
They're all ranting about the monitors showing unnatural brain activity...
But somehow I don't care. There's a soothing feeling at the back of my head, telling me that it'll all be okay...Jade and me will escape once more...

New York, 01:21 am, July 8th, 1999

Brioni

It's gone now, and it's safe to come out.
That dreaful, blinding, round...there is something else round there, yes, but it doesn't burn...no, it's not quite round, it lacks something, like a cheese someone's cut a slice out of...it's pale and full of scars...moon craters, that's what they're called...
A dark shape is stirring in the garbage behind me, and it slowly stands up.
Two pale, yellow eyes meet mine in the dark gloom of the alleyway. I get up from my crouching stance and stare the figure down.

"Savannah," I greet her calmly.

"Anna Brioni," she nods at me.

We continue staring at each other.

"You bit me," I comment.

"I guess I did," she says, accompanied by a very toothy grin. I swiftly bring my hand up to my own mouth, and feel my teeth. No, I don't have any--

"They're only out when you want them to be,"

"What?" I ask her, confused.

"Your teeth. So...in that case I guess I can draw the conclusion that you don't remember what you did on Tuesday, right?"

I look at her blankly. "Tuesday? What day is it today?"

"Thursday," she grins again.

She looks at me with interest as I concentrate. Blood of ice pours through my veins as I snarl, feeling my teeth literally growing in my mouth.
I touch my two front teeth, and notice they've been replaced by a set of perfectly smooth, pointy fangs. A trickle of blood sprouts on my finger when I prod one of my fangs, but it quickly vanishes.
Suddenly Tuesday washes over me, and what surprises me is that I don't feel horrified. It feels good.
All of those men, all of those soldiers...they fell by my hands, and my teeth.

"You didn't just do it to save him, now did you?"

I glance at Savannah. "No."

"You liked it, huh?"

Now it's my turn to grin. "Yeah."

She approaches me, putting an arm around my neck, like we always used to do when we were best friends-- we still are, right?-- and I discover how sensitive my flesh has become. Man, how good it must feel to--

"I know you slept with him." she whispers into my ear.

"Who?"

"Mike who," she smiles at me.

"How do you know?"

"It's easy to know. I could tell that early morning what you'd done...I could see it on you."

"Wait a minute," I look at her, "how could you come visit me then? The sun was nearly up!"

She laughs. "We're not allergic to sun, Anna Brioni! It's all just psychological! You knew you'd become a vampire, and with what you knew about vampires..."

"...this was a instinctive reaction." I finish.

She nods. "Well, okay, not entirely true. We can handle dusk, we can handle dawn, we can handle rainy days...good and bright sun, however, isn't too good for us.
We get weak, we burn...but no, we don't turn into piles of dust. That's just myth."
She looks into the air for a while, then draws her breath, more for effect than anything else, cause I got a feeling we don't actually need to breathe.
"Why did you sleep with that creature?"

This leaves me off guard. "So you know what he is?"

"Oh, Anna Brioni, do you really think that disguise works on me?"

I don't comment on this, and she continues. "So...why?"

I contemplate this, then I grin. "Sex is sex, Savannah..."

"Yeah...hey, I want you to come along to meet some friends...they'll teach you alot," she turns her head a runs her chilly tongue across my cheek, "and more."

I push away from her grasp, wary of the new levels of tingles that run through my skin at even the tiniest touch. And my best friend who's gone crazy.
She only laughs, "Don't worry, Anna Brioni, I don't want you. But I know someone who does, though. These friends are just like you and me, Anna Brioni, just like us, and they'll teach you whatever you need to know. You'll meet the man who made me what I am, my mentor..."

All of a sudden, a manical laughter rocks me, and a thought stands clear in my head. No way am I going to join some sort of clan. I am fine by myself, and I have my own affairs to tend to. I don't even need Savannah. And if she tries to stop me...

"Forget it, Savy,"

"Savannah." The annoyed grimace on her face twists into a smile. "I told you to call me Savannah."

"Whatever. Anyway, thanks for the offer, but I think I'm gonna book..."

After only one step, she blocks my path. No surprises there. I glare at her, and she grabs my arm.
Then, as if someone with amazing skill and homocidal abilities have momentarily taken over my body, I flip her over, grind her face into the dirt, jump on top of her back and calmly twist her neck with a disgusting sound, all but tearing her head off.
I leave the pile that was my best friend and head out of the alleyway with decisive steps.

"Oh, Anna Brioni?"

I freeze. Oopsie...
There stands Savannah with a disturbing angle on her neck and a teasing smile on her face. I look behind me, and see a window with an old, wooden frame. It comes off easily.
Armed with a thick, pointy chunk of window sill, I advance on Savannah.

"All right, Savy, let's see just what's myth and what's reality, shall we?"

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