The Oroku Saki Empire
Chapter 15: Boats & Planes
I do not claim any of the canon characters except for the ones I created.
Oh come on…Donatello's hurt, he has to be heard.
The gas burnt my eyes and throat as it raided the air inside of the chopper- trapping us in a thick, white, cloudy storm. What it felt like; was beyond anything that came from regular pain. No. The micro-particles that radiated across my face and penetrated into my lungs itched and scorched its way throughout my system. A sensation that overwhelmed the pain from the piece of metal lodged in my recently-dislocated-shoulder. I blinked rapidly to clear away the water running from my eyes, and saw the shadowed form of Roderick standing before me; quite smug with some washed-up oxygen mask over his face.
The swirling cloud slowly erased his image as it thickened around us. That son of a bitch threw what I thought was a smoke bomb on the ground, and filled the confined space with the gaseous chemical. It didn't take the searing assault a second to make me realize that this was definitely no ordinary smoke bomb either. This felt more like a weakened version of tear gas; something just as vile as its predecessor, and created by an equally mad chemist. The toxic fumes strangled me, rendering me helpless against my fluttering lungs, and I glared angrily at Roderick's fading stature through the fog.
"You shouldn't have done that," I said, gritting my teeth. My voice sounded hoarse and pitiful in my attempt to threaten the man while I prepared to lunge at him, and hopefully break his nose bridge through the mask.
Blindly, he laughed at that saying: "Oh, really? Look at it this way; you'll all be asleep by the time I toss you out of my chopper; from one thousand feet in the air."
I barely heard the words he'd spoken because they were quite muddled by the rotating blades and the coughing operetta in the background. When I tried to move, my body betrayed me by flopping down unto my kneecaps hard. I gritted my teeth to trap the unholy words that wanted to fly from my lips, and slumped to the floor unwillingly. My senses were fading and the end result cast long eerie shapes along my vision, making it even more difficult to stay focused.
Swearing, I held on to every fiber of strength and control that remained in my body, and tried to keep my attention on the swaying form of Roderick. His body looked like it shifted from a human to that of a grey ghost, gliding through curtains of fog. I couldn't tell if he was moving towards me or away from, and I feared that I was not capable of defending myself from whatever attack he had planned next. Suddenly, another grey figure appeared behind the man and the two masses formed into one, swirling around in the thick mist. I heard more swearing and the sounds of a scuffle which, as I assumed, could only be Michelangelo returning to engage Roderick in a fight.
The two were locked briefly; arms wrapped like constricting pythons around one another, as Michelangelo tried to bring the human under submission. The hazy white air swirled and parted as they swung their limbs out at each other, aiming to land deadly incapacitating blows, and then they became engulfed by the fog again. I really couldn't tell the difference between the quality of my vision, and the atmosphere around us. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. Like swallowing pure acid that intensified as it coursed down my wind pipes.
We need to get out of here fast before we all suffocate, I thought, remembering the choking women coughing in a chorus behind me, and halfway turned my head when someone started pulling me up.
"Don -," Mya coughed into the crook of her arm, hiding her face behind her oversized hockey shirt that was loaned to her courtesy Casey and April. "We have to get out. Can't breathe," she punctuated each word with a cough, tugging on my good arm. "Keiko has Ayame," she stated just as interrupted as before.
Blinking through acidic tears, I squinted, glancing back for the other two girls and saw their hunched silhouettes moving to get out of the chopper that had become a gassing chamber. Interestingly, my mind literally felt as cloaked as my senses; sight and smell, and it was hard to hone my focus in on one point to come out of this disorientation. Pushing aside the irritation I rose up on my feet and placed my hand on Mya's to let her know that I was okay. As okay as I will be by force, I shook my head at the idiocy of the idea. This was ridiculous. "Yeah, - get out while I help Mike hold him back," I spluttered painfully. I suppose she agreed when her hand vanished from my arm, and turned to the brawling warriors at the exit of the aircraft.
Before I could act; the ninjas stopped their exchange of blows when Michelangelo finally had the man pinned against the grey metallic panel to the right of the pilot's access port. Smothered growls spewed from the man's throat as he struggled under the orange-masked turtle's grip within the restricted space of the archway. His obscene screams were trapped behind the mask which made him sound like Darth Vader prior the added sound effect enhancements.
"Donny, you guys – I got 'im. Get out now," Mikey choked out under the effects of the toxic fumes as it began ripping apart his respiratory organs.
I was already at the doorway ushering Keiko and her sister outside where the foggy air was filtering and diffusing into the fresher nighttime oxygen. By the time Mya dropped down to the ground; I spun around just in time to see Michelangelo reaching for the mask on Roderick's face to tear it off his head.
"Mikey, no!" I cried; diving towards the two when I heard the band from the mask snap against the turtle's wrist as Roderick pulled back his head sharply, snagging the plastic mouth piece between his teeth. He caused the cords to ensnare Mikey's hand as he wriggled his arm free to dig his fingers into my sibling's leg wound, destroying whatever stitching was left. I heard the squelch of flesh and blood when the stitches tore and cringed at the thought of pain that might be registering across Mikey's face.
The turtle gasped and dropped back as I rammed my body weight into the man's chest. All of the air rushed out of his lungs with a hoarse wheeze, forcing him to suck back in the poisoned air which made him gag and cough out of reflex. Enraged, he kicked me away from him, hurtling me back into Mikey whose shell collided with the thick wall that sang like a pealing church bell that rang at 1am.
We fell to the floor face down; my very heavy, possibly semi-consciousbrother on top of my shell, with a pissed off Foot ninja coming towards us with a blade that he so graciously retrieved as it was conveniently within his reach. Great, I groaned, trying to roll a non-collective Michelangelo off my back. I rocked to one side violently, earning the turtle to slide off my back, only to have him grab onto my shell to steady himself once more as he came to.
"Mikey, get off – look out!" I snapped hastily as Roderick raised his weapon over his head vertically, aiming to stake us like fresh, raw meat to be placed on a grill. It's too late, the words formed in my mind as my burning eyes looked up at the silvery metal pointing down at us. With one last shove, I moved; prepared to stop him with my bare hands since I had no intentions of going out at the hands of this worthless opponent. I'm sure Mike wasn't either, because he slid off me with as much speed as I stood up.
The man's squinting eyes widened in shock when I caught the blade between the palms of my hands, and we remained frozen in time and space for a fraction of a second; eyes locked on each other in what seemed to be an eternity. No words; just labored breathing; tainted by the chemical fumes of the smoke bomb. Then, as soon as his dark eyes shifted, I released the blade; cutting my already sliced-up hands on it, and stepped back to block his attack, only to hear a loud, deep, hollow clang, followed by the sound of his weapon falling to the floor.
His eyes rolled back in his head, like a creepy sleeping doll, and he dropped down to the ground flat on his face - unconscious. In the spot where he previously stood, was none other than Nicole; her face red and disturbed, holding a red fire extinguisher in her trembling arms. Moving awkwardly she placed the extinguisher to one side, coughing slightly in the foul air.
"Uh…thanks," I said, watching the girl turn to stare at the fallen ninja.
"Is he – is he dead?" she asked shakily, throwing an arm over her face to shield her mouth and nose from the bitter air. It had begun clearing up as the cool winds from outside brought in cleaner, breathable air, taking the chemicals along with it.
"I doubt it," Michelangelo uttered distastefully, rising up to lean his weight against the wall. "Man, I feel like I've got a sore throat from hell. What was that: tear gas?" he asked, coughing into his hand to clear his throat and winced when it aggravated his situation even more. "Er… thanks by the way," he tipped his head at Nicole, and gave her a thumbs up, "for saving our butts."
She shrugged lightly, looking horrified at the scene.
I nodded in response and knelt down beside the traitor to check for his pulse. His skin was moist and hot from the warm blood that flowed through his veins; expended of adrenaline. "He's alive," I confirmed for the anxious woman, and she sighed heavily in relief; certainly comforted by the notion that she was not a murderer. "- but he'll be out for quite some time," I said standing up, feeling at the needle that was still buried in my shoulder. The pain from it was temporarily blotted out by the agonizing irritation from the burning taste of the gas.
I didn't think that the gas was poisonous enough to kill us, but I had hoped that it didn't have any other side effects other than what we were already experiencing. "Let's go," I beckoned with my hand for her to exit; exhausted from breathing, "we really shouldn't be in here, guys. I think it's best for us to wait outside for the gas to clear." I fanned at the air in front of my face, coughing and ducked my head as I jumped out.
She followed me, and then came Mikey, whose limp got worse as his thigh was torn open again. "What about Karai's evil henchman there?" He jabbed a thumb back at the helicopter that was live and humming, whipping us with powerful winds generated by the spinning blades.
I scoffed spitefully. I intentionally left the man behind because of all the trouble he caused us. Because of him I was irritated by even the grass I was standing on. "He's fine. He wasn't exposed to the gas as long as we were- plus he's lying on the ground unconscious, and the gas is clearing so he could very well remain where he is."
Mikey chuckled and plopped himself down on the ground to investigate his injury. "I take it you're really pissed off, Donny…secretly wishing he asphyxiated on the gas," the turtle commented while pressing his wound closed, making curious faces at the oozing blood.
I ignored my comical brother and turned to yank the weapon that was lodged in my shoulder. You'd think I was immune to pain by now. Actually, I'm numb with pain.
Mya, who was standing next to her cousins a few yards away from us; came over to hover by her sister's side. I could see the concern on both girls' faces as they asked each other wordless questions with their eyes. Their eyes were bloodshot, as were mine, I believe, and then they turned their attention on us.
"Are you two alright?" Mya asked, looking from me to my preoccupied, orange-masked brother, who paused his hopeless fawning over the lost stitches to gaze back up at her.
"After today; I can't say," Mikey said wistfully. "If Raph were here, he'd say that he was 'just peachy,' all sarcastic and grouch-like. Donny, remind me to take a long vacation when all of this is over. I'm finally beginning to think I'm getting too old for this kind of stuff."
I sighed, offering a withering smile to the pair, "We'll be fine. Don't worry about us. What we should be concerned about is getting away from here…and him." I finally pulled the metal out of my shoulder, and flung it aside, earning a couple grossed-out looks from my company.
"And rejoining the others," Michelangelo interjected.
"Yeah, that too," I added, mostly glancing across at the outline of trees that were shadowed by the dark sky, showing off its gleaming pregnant moon.
Staring blankly as if deep in thought; Nicole suddenly blurted out: "He was talking to someone," tilting the conversation into an entirely different direction.
I looked at her, baffled. Not comprehending what she was saying.
"What are you talking about?"
Fearful eyes met mine when she answered. "The medic: Roderick. He was talking to someone on his phone or something. Just a few minutes after April and your brothers left."
"When was this?" I asked with urgency.
"It could've been Karai he was talking to," Michelangelo supplied, promptly. "She couldn't be trusted anyway," he stood up; readily alert.
"No," I shook my head. "He wasn't working for Karai, Mikey. He said so himself. He was a spy working for the Shredder," I explained to him, and then to Nicole I asked, "When did you see this, Nicole? When did you see him?"
"Only a few seconds before I ran off," she hesitated for a bit, "I'm really sorry about that," she apologized quickly. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't run off like an idiot. Michelangelo would've been here to help-"
I held up my hand to stop her, mid-sentence. "No time to think about that right now. We have to leave. He must've warned the Foot about our current positions. The others are in trouble. We need to get to them, STAT." I turned to Mya to ask her to get her cousins, but she was already walking off.
"I'll get the twins," she waved her hand animatedly, moving away briskly.
"So what's the plan, Donny?" Michelangelo asked, anxiously following me back towards the entrance of the Black Hawk.
I glanced at my hopping brother out of the corner of my eye, noting his damaged thigh which he tied off with a piece of cloth that one of the girls had torn off for him. My mind was racing with a hoard of thoughts, and it didn't seem to want to settle on one thing given the after effects of the gas. My ears were buzzing and my senses were messed up; along with my shoulder that I couldn't bear to move. You guys must be feeling miserable, I muttered internally, picturing the injuries each one of us have sustained in the last twenty-four hours. I had to face the daunting fact that we weren't fit to fight, much less do anything, yet we were up against an egotistical maniac who was trying to destroy us at every turn.
"The plan is to pick up the others immediately," I replied, launching my body back into the aircraft.
Mikey came up and loaned his arm to the four young women to come in, and then we rolled the medic out; rudely pushing his body out if the chopper so that dropped on the hard ground with a painful thud; not bothering to spare a concerned glance at the unconscious man's body. Mikey pulled the door in, slamming it shut, and I took my place in the pilot's seat.
"You know what, bro?" my brother started, plopping down in the seat next to me. I cast him a weary look as he continued his deliberation. "It's not so bad once you get used to it: the watery eyes, burning – runny nostrils, sore throat. It's almost like a bad cold…on a bad day. I think we'd be the best candidates for a flu-remedy advertisement; all honest and raw. Not to forget: handsome," he paused thoughtfully to look back briefly before turning his head back to me.
"At least the air is clearer or else I think I'd be as dead as a door knob by now. Hey! You should get a sample of the gas, you know - try to recreate it in your lab or something. Maybe we could use it someday. Would you get a sample if you stuck a cotton ball in your nose to extract the chemicals?" Michelangelo's thoughts switched back and forth at the speed of lightning, bouncing between different walls of his brain.
I shook my head at him as I lifted the vehicle into the air. "How about I stick a cotton swab in your nose, uh? Or better yet, your mouth."
The terrapin was still talking, unaware of anything that was said to him, and then on the words: "Mass produce it as a pepper-spray," he went silent. His eyes lit up with delight; surely dreaming of becoming a millionaire.
I snorted, "Are you done prattling?"
"What? Heck no! I just began," he flashed one of his toothy grins at me, effortlessly trying to lighten the mood. He could sense the grimness of the situation in me just as I could sense it in him. I saw it in his shimmering eyes; masked by the wide smile in them; flawlessly faking calmness. We've seen it a million times in the past, and it took me one moment after eighteen years to dig past the exterior, and see it for what it truly was: a facade. Sometimes I wanted to believe that his natural behavior to-lighten-things-up, despite his true feelings, was genetically encoded in his DNA. Something the rest of us lacked.
I listened to him talk for most of the ride until we made it over the docking area, where the rotors caused the some of the boats to sway in our wake after disturbing the surface of the waters below. "Keep an eye out for them, Mike," I began just before a spree of activity caught my eyes.
"I think you spoke too soon, Donny. It looks like those guys have already sent up their signals for us," he pointed at a group of dark figures who were advancing upon the yacht, carrying fire arms. Other figures, whom I made out to be our people, were on the top most deck, fighting off scores of men that dared to climb onto the boat. The sight pretty much resembled an army of black ants clambering over a few morsels of food crumbs. Our guys were outnumbered by five to one. "Don, do something," the anxious orange-masked turtle all but barked at me; his eyes darkened by earnest resolve. "What are we waiting for? We have to blast them with this thing," he said finally, searching the control panels for the system weaponry.
Lowering the Black Hawk, I scoffed at my brother's suggestion, shaking my head at his lack of observation skills. "I hate to break it to you, Mike, but this bird was customized for civilian usage only." When I saw the chopper, I was shocked to see that Karai had even considered flying unarmed.
Turning his head to me, Mikey raised an eye ridge in disbelief. "What are you saying, Donny? You don't mean -" His hairless brows furrowed in understanding and then he scowled at the aircraft in exasperation, "You mean this thing's got no guns, no weapons, nothing!"
I answered his question with a wan grimace, repressing the urge to slap my palm against my forehead despairingly. Michelangelo's jaw dropped and he leaned forward to look down, "Huh, that sucks," he pronounced, mostly disappointed. "Well then, what are you waiting for?"
I glanced at him; a bit perplexed by the question. He nodded his head and smiled back at me with his eyes: mischievous. "Let's do what we do best; improvise!" The turtle jumped into a positive tone and then with a withering smile added, "Things can't get any worse than this, right?"
"Don't jinx it." I was already dropping altitude to give Raph and the others a chance to climb into the helicopter when something hit the glass fast and hard, causing Mikey and I to duck. The ninjas had turned their guns on us, spraying the chopper with bullets. Golden sparks exploded sporadically on the outside where the ammo collided with the metal exoskeleton of the beast.
"Idiots," I snapped; immediately turning the Hawk around while trying to lift it into the air in an attempt to save it from being destroyed with us inside. I was concerned for the fuel tank which could explode like a cracked-up Fourth of July firework display if one of them were to hit it. The Foot had Karai and the others penned on the yacht as they closed in their attacks, gaining the upper hand with numbers, and it was that that made me change flight plans to risk the fuel tank. Leo, Raph, April and Casey's lives came first. Whether or not we all die in the process, I thought ruefully.
"Don, I don't think she can take this kinda fire," Michelangelo pointed out in a worried tone.
"Yeah, you don't think I'm aware of that?" I growled impatiently, gritting my teeth in irritation as I tried to maneuver the Hawk away from the trigger-happy ninjas; up and around to get to our siblings.
"Well excuse me, Mr. 'Don't-point-out-the-obvious-to-me-cause-I'm-a-super-genius.' No need for you to be a snapping turtle," Michelangelo's mocking reply came.
I rolled my eyes, I wasn't snapping at you.
Then, with exceptionally poor timing, I heard a bullet hit something that produced a strong hissing sound. No, no, no, I swore as the warning lights for the engine came on, infusing us with the red glow of the gleaming bulbs that flashed like a thousand evil eyes from hell. The warning alarm buzzed with vengeance in my ear, alerting us to engine failure. "Aw, crap," the words fell from my mouth, and dropped like a bell into the chaotic sounds of the chopper, stirring with them.
The engine automatically disengaged from the main rotor, allowing the craft to go into autorotation which meant that the rotors were spinning on their own. I had no other option but to land the chopper wherever I could. "They blew our engine out, Mike. We need to land so be ready for anything," I informed my orange-masked sibling.
"Roger that, Captain," he lifted his hand and saluted me, turning towards the passengers in the back. "Brace yourselves, ladies. We're going down," Michelangelo warned them as I piloted the Hawk to descend upon the water-stained harbor that floated on the inky waves; mapping its way through rows of neatly lined luxury boats. They danced on the calm water gracefully as the wind rocked them; completely oblivious to the pandemonium about.
The ninjas kept up their relentless shooting, and we were ducking the shots that ricocheted off the metal. The bullet proof glass; which was once a blessing, had turned into a complete obstruction, because it was frosted over by circular web-like cracks with bullets at the epicenters.
I struggled to balance the aircraft as it made its descent, riding on the wind that propelled its rotors. The men were coming nearer towards us with their attacks, forcing me to violently turn the plane in the opposite direction; only to have the nose over the small space of open water between the yacht and jetty, and the tail over jetty itself. I was losing control over the helicopter. I saw when Michelangelo realized this as well because he bared his teeth, and ground them into each other like a mill. I had no choice but to drop the bird down right in the middle of the 'storm'.
"Okay," I decided that it was time to take drastic measures if we were going to crash. "If you guys want us to go down so badly, then you've got your wish." I enunciated each word menacingly as I forced the aircraft to tilt so far backwards that it was almost touching the boards of the harbor, and then the rotation began. The nose swung left as the tail dipped right, and blood curdled screams filled the air as the blades swiped through Foot ninjas as smoothly as a brush cutter would level off weeds.
Half of the gun fire stopped with that, but the plane wasn't finished with its unbalanced swing. We swung around in the other direction, taking down a few more unlucky ninjas who refused to move out of the way. The others dived off the wooden planks into the chilly waters below. I could almost hear the sound of blood and gore splashing everywhere, dropping into the water and on the wood. Suddenly, I felt the world tip upwards as we dipped further backwards and jerked violently forward when the tail crashed into the jetty, ripping it apart as if it were mere paper.
"No-o-o-o-o," I groaned, trying my best to hold against the jack-hammer tremors that assaulted my body. The chopper jolted, turning around to make a complete 360-degree turn, and took away part of a yacht that was next to Takahashi's vessel. "Mikey, we gotta bail!" I shouted at the turtle, watching him hold on to his seat for stability. More alarms went off inside of the cockpit, adding to the irritation I was feeling in my bones.
He started before launching out of the seat. "What about you?" He held back to look at me expectantly like the big brother that didn't want to leave his younger sibling behind. Except; we were the same age, and I don't think any of us have ever considered him as an 'elder' sibling.
"I'll be right behind you, okay," I tried to give him the most reassuring look ever; ready to get off this death trap as soon as he and the others were safely outside. Satisfied with my answer he disappeared from the cockpit.
I heard the door slide open and crash against the chopper's body with a loud bang, and then came my brother's loud, however comical voice. "Okay, people. We gotta jump out of this bird now; ladies first."
The helicopter rocked back until it hovered dangerously close to tearing away the professor's boat, sending some of the other ninjas overboard in fear of being sliced into chunky pieces. I had to admit. I was enjoying this. The rotors of this thing were terrifying enough without it threatening to crash down during autorotation.
"Donatello, everybody's out. It's just me and Ayame now!" Mikey shouted over the rapid, thundering blades. I regretted not having engine power to shut it down, much less to fly it. "See ya down below, Donny boy. Geronimo!" His voice slowly faded into the background noises, emphasizing the fact that he was gone.
Yes, of all the corny phrases and sayings he could use; he had to use that one. I sighed heavily, shaking my head in disapproval. Now it's my turn. I released my safety belt, and bolted from the aircraft to reach at the exit where the salty winds licked my face like an anxious Saint Bernard. It was wet and cold. I looked down at the water below in apprehension and clung to the metal frame of the Hawk as it landed nose first on a neighboring boat, shuddering violently. I jumped; plunging into the shadows of the waves as the rest of the helicopter finally came crashing into the water.
I began swimming for the professor's boat, and heard when the chopper slapped down into the water behind me. It created a wave that engulfed me at first before spitting me forward, but not too long before a suctioning current hungrily dragged me back towards it. The bird tilted on its side, causing the rotors to come to an abrupt halt, and the sea began swallowing it up with a wide mouth as the water rushed into the air filled plane. I had to use every muscle in my legs to kick away from the pulling forces so that the drowning Hawk wouldn't take me along with it. Fighting hard against the death grip the water had on me, I swam towards the pier and upon passing the professor's yacht, face bobbing beneath and above the water; I saw a string of huge, red Japanese writing painted across the side. It read: Resting Man.
Resting Man? Who in the world gives a sea vessel a masculine name? The entire thing seemed odd to me since most sea men referred to their boats in the feminine order. If not; it would be given a neutral name. Resting Man, I glanced at the boat once more as I stretched my hand to the edge of the wooden planks. Resting Man, yes! That would explain the professor's phrase: 'He, who is laid to rest; finds his piece.' That's it! This is it!
"Donatello, stop grinning like a mad, evil scientist and take my hand," Michelangelo's concerned voice interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up to see my straining sibling, kneeling down, stretching his hand for me.
"Mikey, did you see the name of the boat? Now it all makes sense, doesn't it?" I asked in excitement; forgetting for a flash second that this was not the time to revel in the revelation. I had a smile on my face when I said it, and was graced with a severely disturbed scowl from my brother.
A quick, sullen "No," was the response I got from a chorus of five voices.
"Never mind." With a sheepish grin I accepted his help and climbed up on to the deck, possibly weighing a thousand pounds, and turned to see a couple of men clothed in black, sprinting in our direction. This was bad, I gritted my teeth. The salty air went still as we all tensed up with knowledge of being trapped on the pier.
"More Foot," Michelangelo dead panned, blowing out a puff of air that screamed exhaustion. He moved forward, favoring his bad leg, and leaned into a lazy fighting position.
"Yep," I nodded, watching their numbers multiply as they approached us like jungle cats waiting to pounce on its prey - cornered, outnumbered, and definitely outmatched.
"Do you know if they take bribes?" Mya asked out of the blue, gaining a pair puzzled glances from my sibling and I. She blew a stray curl off her nose and shrugged nonchalantly, "Maybe we could pay them to leave us alone," she suggested wittingly.
We scoffed at the remark. "Yeah right…" I took a stance to fight, preparing for the small cloud of black that was rolling in to terminate our lights when one of the girls' voices caught my attention.
"Donatello-san, look," Keiko pointed in the direction of the bobbing Resting Man; which was comfortably rolling on the waves like an old soul enjoying his retirement in a hammock.
We all turned and saw two figures kneeling on the starboard side with their heads tilted upwards; ultimately forced by the long blades pressed against their necks. They had both a male and female hostage; and I immediately knew that it was Casey and April. The Foot had compromised them aboard the vessel, while our other brothers and Karai stood in the background at a standstill. They were penned in by ninjas, and apparently they had found the box – judging from the cuboid object in Raph's hand that he was now placing on the ground in surrender.
My stomach began doing flips at the sudden turn of events, causing bile to rise up in my throat, and I really couldn't imagine how we were going to get out of this mess from here on. That was not the only problem on the ship. The other thing made us go pale, Michelangelo and I, and we lost our words somewhere on the gale that sucked the air out from around us. Why us?
"Is that…?" Nicole started, but did not bother with finishing the question as she stared at the boat in surprise. Her brows wrinkled in confusion and frustration; not to mention, horror.
"No way," Mya whispered, hanging on to her sister with even more desperation that before.
"How?" Keiko asked with a shaky voice. She was struggling to help her semi-conscious sister up to her feet. The girl was absolutely drained of color, and her drenched black hair seemed to weigh her down, making it seem like an impossible task to get her moving.
Right about now, it didn't even make sense to try to move. We were stuck, and there was one other person on the boat that we didn't count on seeing again...
~No, I can't take one more step towards you, because all that's left is regret.
Learned to live half alive, and now you want me one more time.
And who do you think you are, running around leaving scars, collecting your jar of hearts, tearing love apart. You're gonna catch a cold, from the ice inside your soul. So don't come back for me. Don't come back at all. Who do you think you are?~
I'm bored. Thanks for reading. Be so kind and leave a useful review, please.
Things to note: Changes will be made to the earlier Chapters. (^_^)