Chapter Text
“I’ll be back in a bit,” Your coworker, David, called over his shoulder, zipping out the door for his unapproved smoke brake. You waved back absentmindedly as you handed a young boy a pair of size 9 skates that he was sure would fit him. You knew for a fact that he would be back not even five minutes later, asking for a more accurate size.
Your gaze loomed around the large skating rink, filled with kids ranging in all ages and couples trying way too hard to be cute. The “DJ booth” (it was really just a glorified fold out table and a busted laptop that barely connected to the speaker system) was blasting several classic rock and disco songs, picked by the self designated dee-jay, Jeffery.
The concession stand—surrounded by multiple 80’s style diner booths, plush cushioning covered with stains and rips and sticky residues that could never be wiped off from the tables—was crowded with parents who absolutely did not want to be there and teens that were too afraid to go out onto the rink and make fools of themselves. The designated arcade zone was probably the most deserted part of the rink, with it only having a handful of actual video games and a confusingly large number of claw games and gacha machines. Really, the whole rink was due for an upgrade, the retro style carpeting most definitely being put in before it actually became ‘retro’.
Idly swaying to Jeffery’s outstanding song choice, “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough,” you drummed your fingers against the counter and looked at the digital clock that hung over the entrance of the bathrooms. In big, red numbers, it read 10:37. Just three more hours, then you were home free for the weekend.
Summer jobs were the worst, especially if you have the night shift. Even more so if your workplace closes at one in the morning.
You pulled your attention back when two teenage girls walk up to your counter. You recognized them immediately as fellow teens that went to your school—though you didn’t recall the kid with the eye catching broach as much as you did the girl beside her. April O’Neil, you faintly remembered, you sat beside her in your World Geography class last year, and you both had the same Maths class the year before. From what you knew, she had always been very kind and chatty. The few times you talked last year, you remembered how easily you could banter with her, when usually you struggled in the small talk department.
“Hey, (y/n), right?” April grinned, her voice light and welcoming, like she had known you all her life. Maybe that was just the way she spoke to everyone. “From Mr. Berlin’s geography class. I didn’t know you worked here!”
You had a bashful smile, hiding the surprise you felt that she even recognized you. You never considered yourself to be entirely memorable at your school.
“Ah, well yeah. I started this summer,” you replied, turning to the shelves of rentable skates. The two girls gave you their shoe sizes, and April slid back in conversation with ease.
“Say, you wanna join us? Can’t imagine it’s fun standing behind this counter all night.” She grinned, with the girl beside her nodding her head. Your heart soared at the offer, very rarely were you ever asked to hang out —but you hesitated on the offer.
“Ah, I better not,” you declined, giving them the most apologetic look you could muster, “I’m covering for someone right now, maybe when he gets back?”
April returned your excuse with an understanding smile. “Well, alright then. We’ll be out on the floor if you change your mind!”
The two girls bid you farewell as they walked off, your gaze trailing after them with a heavy heart. You always had trouble making friends, but here was one of the coolest people you’ve ever met, asking to hang out with you! And you said no.
You continued grumbling to yourself, watching from a distance as April and Broach Girl had the time of their lives together, laughing and chatting and—
And you so desperately wanted to join in. But, what would you even do? You were always so awkward around people, you’d probably mess things up somehow. The great thing about talking with April while in class was that you had so much to talk about! Different classes, school projects, terrible teachers.., but out there on the rink? You weren’t confined to the safety of the classroom now! What else did you have in common with her besides your shared hatred for Mr. Weber’s vocabulary tests??
But, then again, it was her who asked you to hang out, so surely that meant she thought you were cool, right? She wouldn’t have even bothered if she didn’t think you weren’t worth her time. So.. so maybe it would be okay to skate with her. Maybe you could finally make some friends—
You were pulled from your thoughts when something suddenly clattered onto the counter. You looked down to see a pair of size 9 skates and the tip of a little boy’s head. You sighed, flashing a final glance back over at the two girls, before handing the boy a smaller pair.
Right, you couldn’t hang out—you had a job to do. You didn’t want to tempt the fates and potentially get yourself fired for blowing off your job while at your job…
…
…But if you had someone to cover you…
You glanced at the back door, you could ask David. Honestly, he should’ve been back by now. With a scowl making its way onto your face, you stepped towards the door. Hesitantly, you grabbed the handle, the cool metal burning your skin. Then you swung it open, your head ducking around for David.
Your frown deepened.
“David?” You called out, taking a step into the alley. “David.”
But there was no David.
“Unbelievable,” You hissed out, “Did he just leave?”
You cover for him time and time again, and this is how he repays you? Well, next time he’s just gonna have to live with not pumping his lungs full of toxins for a little while.
You spun back towards the door, your chest tightening with aggravation. As you stormed back into the building, you failed to notice how you stepped over a freshly lit cigarette that was left abandoned on the alley floor and the odd silhouette by the dumpster.
Wiping down the tables by the concession stand, you swayed to the music that hummed through the air. Jeffery faded out the current song playing and let the next one on the playlist, “Stayin’ Alive” transition smoothly into the speakers. You threw your head back, laughter bubbling out of you without much self control.
“What??” Jeffery called from behind his booth, “you got a problem with The Bee Gees?!”
“Only when it’s one of their most overrated songs!” You answered back, a wide grin visible across your face. Jeffery gasped, his face dropping in dismay.
“You take that back! This is a classic.”
“It’s overplayed.” You corrected.
“Listen, it wouldn’t be overplayed if it wasn’t good. And this is some of their best stuff!”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Only people with shit taste say that.”
“Only people with shit taste listen to “Stayin’ Alive”.” You countered.
“I think there must be something wrong with your hearing, because there is absolutely nothing shit about “Stayin’ Alive.” Jeffery defended, grabbing his bag, “Re-evaluate your opinions, dude.”
You rolled your eyes, but were unable to fight off the smile teasing the corners of your lips. You heard Jeffery laugh.
“Alright, I’m headin’ out, “ he announced. “Want me to keep it on?”
You threw your head back and groaned dramatically, “Ugh, yeah. I guess I’ll continue to listen to your mediocre music while I close up.”
Jeffery shook his head with a chuckle, before bidding you a goodnight and heading out the door. With music flowing through the skating rink and the absence of your only friend, you quickly got back to work.
It only took you a few minutes to clean off the rest of the tables and wipe down the booth seats, so you were able to move on to your last task of the night. Then, finally, you could leave.
You pulled a trash bag out of its bin and tied off the strings. Setting the plastic bin back behind the counter, you tossed the garbage bag over your shoulder and headed to the back door. David flashed into your mind and a prickling frustration bubbled through your veins.
Oh, you were going to have a word with him.
You stepped out into the alley, surveying the area for one final time that night. It was everything you expected from an alleyway. The large, army green dumpster (the one you were currently yeeting a trash bag full of half eaten pizza and candy wrappers into).., the dented aluminum trash cans..,soggy, decaying cardboard boxes.., the vomit inducing stretch of blood.., the abandoned, unconscious silhouette of a body—
You paused.
Just barely hidden from plain sight, there it laid. If you were simply walking down the sidewalk and not paying attention, you would have most definitely missed it. The revolting smell became stronger, and you soon realized it wasn’t wafting from the aluminum trash cans, but from the limp, sprawled out body of a creature just a few feet from the dumpster.
You would’ve thought it was just another person, what else could have the same, long silhouette of a human? But with the small stream of lamp light that pooled into the alley, you saw a horrible shade of green. Now, by no means were you an expert of the human body—hell, you had barely passed biology last year—but you were fairly certain that it didn’t turn green. At least, not in a literal sense.
So, what the ever loving fuck was this thing?
Hesitating for many seconds, your eyes studied the body. You let your eyes adjust to the dark atmosphere, and soon it became increasingly easier to see. You then were able to notice the soft, staggered rise and fall of the creature's shelled chest. It was alive. This thing—coated in blood and cuts and looking like it had been to hell and back—was somehow alive.
Without much thought, or the consideration that you described the being’s chest as ‘shelled’ , you scrambled to their side as you began looking everything over. Loose pebbles and grime rubbed uncomfortably against your knees as you tried not to gag when your hands came into contact with their blood and chilling-to-the-bone skin.
Questioning what decisions you had to have made to have this brought upon yourself, you looped your arm around the creature—barely managing to do so with the large, chilling shell that hung on their back—and lifted them up with a grunt. Holding their uninjured arm around your neck, you dragged them inside the skating rink. With an effort to get the creature’s—you deducted it as a turtle of some kind..? Hence the shell, maybe—body off of you as soon as possible, you hastily lifted them into the counter and rushed for the first aid kit.
You hovered over the body again, trying to rack your brain for any useful tips you learned from the brief safety course you were forced through when you first started at the rink. But knowing how to apply plasters and to treat concussions didn’t seem all that helpful at the moment.
You needed to clean the wound first.. right?
God, you are gonna kill this thing before you even figure out what they are supposed to be—
First, you removed their purple colored arm and knee braces, allowing yourself to better examine the turtle. They were covered almost head to toe (you would like to note the fact that they had only TWO TOES on each foot) in scrapes and cuts and bruises and other assorted minor injuries.
You relaxed immensely over the lack of anything terrible looking and cracked open the plastic container, shoveling through the piles of bandages and wrappings. No disinfectant or medicine of any kind. Go figure that your boss was cheap enough not to stock a proper first aid kid.
You glanced down at the floor in thought and noticed your half-drunk water bottle that had been knocked off the counter during all the commotion. Well, it wasn’t perfect, but you needed to clean the cuts somehow.
Grabbing a rag and the water bottle, you hovered over the cuts with great hesitance. Their blood continued to drip onto your precious counter and immediately you gagged.
Don’t throw up, don’t throw up…
The metallic smell only continued to wrap itself around you and choke you out as you ‘disinfected’ the area. Bile clawed up the back of your throat, but you swallowed hard and carried on. The sight of blood began to lessen the more you rubbed it away, and you were able to move onto the bandaging. Tentatively, you wrapped the bandage around the turtle’s(?) right arm, then the other, before moving down to its legs. Thankfully—like your examination had shown—nothing else seemed too bad, their limbs seemed to have taken most of the damage, and even then it was mostly minor cuts and bruises. But there were just so many. You were admittedly terrified, there was no way this thing passed out from a tornado of paper cuts—so that means they were knocked out by some other reason.
That reason being; well, you had no clue yet, but your brain had no problem supplying examples and scenarios.
Eventually, you had finished wrapping their ankle and had the chance to better look over the creature. Tied around its head was a mask with the same matching purple from before, with a pair of unusual goggles perched on their forehead, the lens two different colors—red and blue. The shell on its back was—again—a shade of purple, which immediately rang alarm bells in your brain, as turtle shells weren’t normally such a pretty violet. In fact, it didn’t even feel like a shell, it seemed to be made of some material—maybe some kind of metal or plastic perhaps? You couldn’t exactly tell.
Shaking your head and focusing on their head, you decided that maybe the counter top wasn’t the most comfortable place to rest on. You managed to pull the turtle-thing over to one of the plush, diner booths and laid them down over the seating. Heaving out labored breaths, you slumped down to the floor with exasperated gasps.
You didn’t realize how much your body was running on adrenaline until it all drained out of your system completely, exhaustion swiftly washing over to take its place. Your muscles twitched slightly ever so often as you laid sprawled across the scratchy, slightly sticky carpeted floor.
Concern wrangled itself around your brain. You were fairly certain that the creature had a concussion—why else would they have been passed out in an alleyway? But there was no way to know for sure while they were still unconscious—and there was only so much you could do at that point. But you had already done this much for the turtle, the least you could do was finish the job.
So you waited there, picking at the retro themed carpet. Boredom was setting in, and the lack of adrenaline rushing through your veins made it harder to stay awake. Nathaniel the turtle (the longer you spent with the unconscious body you realized how dehumanizing it was to just refer to them as a creature—even if the term ‘creature’ was more accurate. But you couldn’t exactly ask if they had a name so you took the liberty to give them one. Thus; Nathaniel) and the mop you used to clean their blood off of everything as your only companions.
You spend a lot of one-sided bonding time with Nathaniel, going on slight tangents to keep you awake and to hopefully disturb the turtle enough to pull them from their coma. You even went on a rant about David, muttering and cursing under your breath as you went into excruciating detail of all the times you had to cover his ass.
It was all a futile attempt to fight the sleep from your eyes, but an attempt nonetheless. Eventually, you turned to the bathroom clock once again, it quickly becoming another companion of yours during this never ending night. On its big, red digits, it read; 3:00.
God. You should’ve been asleep by now, all wrapped up in your warm, fluffy blankets with some 80’s sitcom playing in the background. Instead you were here, with some weird middle finger to Mother Nature only a few feet away of you. With an exhausted exhale through your lips, you turned back to where you had laid the knocked out Nathaniel.
Only you found yourself staring into a pair of dark, widened eyes.
A startled yelp ripped itself from your throat as you jutted back. Apparently, Nathaniel had the same idea, scrambling in the booth seat as he struggled to escape its ‘confinement’ as a slight screech filled the skating rink. It would’ve been an amusing sight if you both weren’t screaming your lungs out.
“Who are you?!” He hissed, pushing himself back against the wall the booth was set against. You noticed the way his eyes flickered around the room, never staying in one spot for too long, before making their way back to you. You wanted to shrink away from their deranged, dazed look.
“Wow, I save your ass and that's all you have to say?” You quipped, trying your hardest to hide the anxiety you felt.
Nathaniel—okay, you needed to stop calling him that, that most definitely wasn’t his name—furrowed his brows in confusion, frown deepening.
“Save me..?”
“Uh—yeah,” you choked out, scratching your cheek subconsciously, “I found you passed out in the alleyway, and like, bleeding ‘n shit. I tried patching you up the best I could but—uhm—I’m absolutely not a professional so you might wanna get that looked at soon before you get an infection,” you pulled yourself off the floor, gesturing to his bandaged arms and legs, watching as he slowly peered down at them.
“Huh,” he hummed, “Uh, thank you, I suppose…” he glanced down at his arm, reaching out for his wrist before freezing. “My tech.. where’s my tech.”
Your heart stopped when his head snapped back towards you.
“What did you do with my tech?” He hissed through gritted teeth, immediately holding an aggressive air around him.
“Wha—”
“Don’t play dumb, I know you have it!!”
“Woah, dude! Chill out—” you fetched his purple coded arm and knee braces, and held them out anxiously. “You mean this stuff?”
He eyed you carefully before snatching his stuff out of your grasp. “And my tech-bo??” He queried, sliding his gear back on without breaking eye contact.
“Tech-bo?” Your lip curled at the unfamiliar word. The turtle groaned.
“My staff. Where is my staff.” It wasn’t a question, that you knew for sure.
“I didn’t see a staff,” you answered, “not when I found you, at least. But we can check the alley.”
The turtle glared at you, not looking all too convinced or reassured. “Fine,” he said finally, his jaw clenched and his shoulders tense.
With a nervous twist in your stomachs, you led him behind the counter and to the back door. You didn’t miss the glance he sent the counter top and he stiffened at the sight of his own blood that you had yet to clean. Grimacing, you carried on.
You stepped out into the alleyway for the third time that night, stretching out your arms as if you were putting it on display.
“You were just over there by the dumpster—just totally clonked out, y’know?” You rambled as the turtle stoved past you, scrambling around the abandoned trash and cardboard. “Like, I was a hundred percent positive you were a dead body or something. But you weren’t, so I was like, ‘well, I can’t just leave this here, my boss will absolutely kill me’ so I carried your bleeding ass inside and—not that your ass was actually bleeding or anything—I mean, maybe. I didn’t check, because that’s a real weird thing to check and—”
“Okay, yes, thank you. Please shut up now,” the turtle dismissed you, waving a hand as he dove his head into the dumpster.
You huffed. Well, at least he said please… (silently, you were relieved he shut you up. Did you really just start talking about his ass bleeding???)
“No, no, no, no, no!” He hissed under his breath, pulling back from the dumpster and looking near the area you had first found him, “Ah- ha! There you are.” Grinning, he admired the long, futuristic-looking staff in his grasp.
You blinked, realizing just how out in the open it was. You don’t know how you missed it the first time; but when you see a potentially dead body, you tend to just drown everything else out.
“Well, uh, stay safe out there, turtle dude. Maybe try to pass out on a flower bed next time? I doubt that concrete is very comfortable.”
You flinched when his gaze flicked back to you, but this time it looked confused.
“Wait, so you’re not gonna question any of.. well, this?” He asked, using his arm to gesture to himself. You gave a heave of your shoulders, exhaustion influencing your sluggish actions.
“Listen, man, it’s been a long night. The last thing I care about right now is why some unconscious turtle dude was bleeding out in my alleyway.”
“Oh, uhm. Well, alright then,” he gave a nod of his head, looking down at his arm with the tablet-gauntlet and typing away at the screen. Only a moment passed however, before he looked back up at you.
“And you’re not gonna tell anyone else you saw me.. right?”
“Even if I did, do you think anyone would believe me?” You scoffed back, “No, dude, I’m not gonna go spreading around that some talking turtle is running around New York, passing out in everyone’s alleys.”
He peered over at you, and you swore you saw the hint of a smirk. “Noted,” he nodded, turning his shell towards you as he spun his staff through the air, a faint purple glow emitting from it. He flashed you one final glance from his shoulder, before suddenly leaping into the air and scaling the alleyway buildings to the rooftops. And just like that, he was gone.
You stared up at the roof he disappeared on, disbelief clear on your face. With a click of your tongue, you headed inside to clean up the rest of the blood. Once you finished, you locked the back door of the skate rink and shoved your hands into your pockets. You wandered out of the alley, ready to finally head home.
Unknowingly to yourself, you began subconsciously peering into alleyways that you passed, scanning for anything potentially out of place. On the subway, you flinched at every shadow and kept a close eye on the handful of people you saw on the train. You just prayed you didn’t smell like blood.
When you arrived home, you were surprised to find your aunt laying face down on the couch, her legs dangling over one of the arms rests, as you closed the door behind you. Normally she managed to at least make it past the kitchen before utterly collapsing.
In the few hours watching over a strange turtle guy, you had just about forgotten about her. It was a little jarring seeing her be home before you. With her being a doctor and all, she often spent late into the evening at the hospital.
You peered over the couch, watching as your aunt’s back slowly rose and fell, soft and exhausted. You pulled a blanket off the nearby recliner and draped it over her shoulders, placing a light kiss on her temple.
Having a doctor for an aunt, you would think you’d know how to treat injuries better. To her credit, at one point in time in your life, she had tried teaching you a few things, but you never really paid much attention to it. You’d only nod your head and wait until she finished ranting about how to treat a third-degree burn.
If only you’d listened to her.
But, oh well. It wasn’t like you were ever gonna see that Professor Plum fellow again anytime soon.
“Night Aunt Lynn,” you hummed quietly, dragging yourself to the bathroom to wash off the smell of sweat and blood. You zoned out entirely when you began scrubbing your stained fingers, and only when you looked at yourself in the bathroom mirror did it hit you that you just had to wash someone else’s blood off your body.
Your knees weakened, but you managed to carry yourself to bed before you collapsed on the bathroom floor. Yet, despite how tired you were, you knew sleep would never call your name. How could you sleep when there were so many questions left unanswered?
Like, how exactly did that turtle dude end up there in the first place? How did he get hurt so badly? What even was he? What happened to David? Why did he bail on you? Why do you still plan on going back tomorrow for your next shift, even though tonight was a clear sign that you should quit—
You ended up passing out not five minutes later. So much for not being able to sleep.