#90s casey

[theserenebean]

Slash has returned

He looks considerably less depressed and out of place than the day before, moving with confidence.

"Whoa," Casey says in place of a greeting, "That is one big mutant turtle."

"Is he a turtle?" Chaplin replies. "He's got a lot of spikes. Maybe an euoplocephalus mutant?"

"I'm a turtle," Slash said defensively, eyes going hard and dark as he looked between the two kf them. "The mutagen I was exposed to was unstable."

"Cool," Casey and Chaplin say together, eyes round and shining.

Slash clenches his fists and shifts his weight, unsure of how much he likes or trusts these admirers.

"How were you exposed to the mutagen?" April asks conversationally.

Slash relaxes a fraction. "There was some in the lair, because Donatello was trying to alter it to create a cure."

"So it happened in Donatello's lab?"

"No, the canister was taken from his lab after an explosive chemical accident. I was nearly killed; Raphael protected me."

"That sounds very brave of him."

"He is the bravest of his brothers."

"So the explosion caused mutagen to spill onto you?"

"Oh, no, it happened afterwards. Raphael took the canister to prevent more accidents. It spilled when he was asked to clean up Donatello's mess, and slammed the door."

"He took the canister while Donatello was trying to use it to create a cure?"

Slash tenses up somewhat, eyeing April suspiciously. "He had been working on the retromutagen for months and made no progress."

"No progress at all?"

Slash sets his heavy fists on the counter and leans across menacingly. "Do I look un-mutated to you?"

"What was your relationship with Raphael like before the accident?" April asks boldly, not the least bit intimidated.

Slash's shoulders sink, and his arms fall back to his sides. "I was his best friend. He took care of me, confided in me, brought me everywhere around the lair with him. My name was Spike then."

"You changed your name when you mutated?"

His face darkens. "I go by Slash now. I don't think we're friends anymore."

"I know what you need," Casey holds up a finger, looking very pleased with himself. "Grasping Block. You seem like a marshmallow guy."

Slash gives him an unimpressed look. "I was going to order a Shadow Blend."

"Shame on you, assuming people are marshmallow guys," Chaplin crosses his arms and shakes his head.

"You heard it here first, folks," April says mysteriously, "The rogue pet turned mutant prefers dark chocolate."

[theserenebean]

Good morning! Can I get a First Watch with a Wind sandwich?

"Great choice!" Chaplin leans eagerly past Casey. "First Watch is our best drink if you ask me. And with our advanced technology, the color combo creates a blend in just the right places to really look like a sunrise!"

April puts her hands in her hips. "Advanced technology? You mean the blender?"

"Well, it's a blender now, but just wait till I'm through with it."

"Then it'll be the second watch," Casey states. "Shouldn't a sunrise be the last watch?"

"Not if you're nocturnal," April explains.

"Oh," Casey draws out the word, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I had a buddy who got his turnal knocked right off, never had a good sense of continuity after that. Hey, maybe that's what happened to you, huh doll?"

"I've never needed a turnal," April stands up tall. "I'm a member of the press; continuity bends to my will. Speaking of which, when I go back to make her sandwich you'll need to keep Chaplin away from the blender."

"Oh, right," Casey nods while she saunters off to make the sandwich. He looks back to you, expression pleasant and vacant. Your eyes flick over his shoulder to where Chaplin is looming over the blender.

"Oh!" Casey startles as it comes back to him, and he rushes to intervene.

[theserenebean]

Begin and The End of All Things

Casey eyes you thoughtfully, smirking slightly.

"Ah, that's what we call a parallel."

Dr. Chaplin pauses, frowning at him. "I think you mean a paradox?"

Casey gives him a disapproving look. "A pair of what?"

Chaplin blinks at him. "Dox?"

"Hey, no doxxing customers!" He turns to you conspiratorially. "You know, this guy used to work for Shredder. In fact, maybe he still does."

Chaplin crosses his arms. "I don't think you should know what doxxing is."

"I have no idea what it means," Casey shrugs.

April slides a slice of cake across the counter. "The End of All Things," she announces. "I'll have Begin right up for you."

Casey and Chaplin look at each other. Casey looks at the cake, then at the menu. He appears to be thinking very hard.

"But isn't that--"

"Backwards," Chaplin nods.

[yellowhollyhock]

@tmaynt day 19: best casey jones

1990 casey look at this guy. not a single coherent thought in him

[yellowhollyhock]

watching sports (because I’m backwards)

90s Raph and Casey bond over hockey, very short blurb

After almost forty minutes of careful observation, Raph had to admit something. “I don’t understand the rules of this sport.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” Casey said simply.

Raph tilted his head at his friend, then turned it back to the screen. It wasn’t so hard to understand, actually. It was just that, with what he’d heard about it from Casey, it seemed to be a lot more about getting the puck into the net and a lot less about hitting each other with hockey sticks.

“So you got a long stick,” he pressed, “And a small object you gotta get past the other guys into a semi-enclosed space.”

“And you do it all on ice,” Casey confirmed, face content, eyes empty. He grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“So why wouldn’t they just take the guys legs out, pick up the stupid little puck, and run for the net?”

“Ah,” Casey held up a finger, “That’s the tricky part. See, it’s not just getting past the guys with sticks, it’s getting past the ref.”

Raph snorted. “Yeah, well, he don’t seem so tough. All he got is a whistle.”

“Hey, he blows the whistle, your team gets penalized.”

“What, because a guy who wasn’t even playing screamed about it?”

Casey rubbed his chin. “Think of it less like a street fight, and more like playing chess with Donnie.”

Raph mulled that over. Okay, not a bad comparison; chess involved getting small pieces across a designated space, and Donnie had a long stick. But he usually wouldn’t hit you with the stick, even though Raph and Mikey had pointed out the possibility to him on multiple occasions, usually when he played against Leo, the only one who could beat him. Now, on the rare but inevitable occasion it did turn to a spar, Leo would usually win that portion, but it would take him longer to pull his focus back to the game, and Donnie would achieve his ultimate goal. However, he had admitted to Raph before that Mikey’s screams of part-terror part-delight put a bit of a damper on the game for him, even if he won.

It sure wasn’t how Raph and Casey played hockey, ref or no ref, but he could understand some people were particular.

“I would not play chess with Don on ice,” he said decisively. “I’m not an idiot.”

Casey gave him a sideways grin. “Give it time.”