Phic Phight - They’re Gonna Be Ghost Fist Fighting
For: @hannahmanderr
A bunch of fellow teens deciding they want to start fighting or hunting ghosts is something Danny honestly should have seen coming. Well, at least he doesn’t really mind all that much.
Danny blinks, “let me get this straight”, quirking an eyebrow at about thirteen other teens, “you guys want me to teach you all how to fight ghosts? How to fight and ghost hunt and shit?”, blinking, “why?”.
Mikey shifting on his feet a little, “none of us are all that strong and stuff, and you did really amazing fighting on the ghost pirate ship that one time”.
James scoffing, “yeah I think everyone who’ve gotten their asses kicked if you hadn’t basically told everyone what to do”.
Emily nodding, “we really can’t keep relying on just Phantom or your honestly super dangerous parents. It makes way more sense for someone actually capable to make us capable enough to deal with all the ghosts instead”.
Danny scratching his head, “okay you know what? That’s actually pretty fair”, humming, “and I guess I could actually do that”, shrugging, “eh alright, try not to hurt yourselves though”, and gestures for them to follow after him. He’s got a spare, he’s got time to at least teach them a little bit of hand to hand, maybe how to make an emergency shiv eventually. And if this does turn into him basically creating a team of ghost hunters, then he’s going to have to drag Sam and Tucker into the whole mess.
Danny makes everyone stand like solders outside, walking back and forth like a Sargent, “okay shit heads, everyone in this dumb town is contaminated enough to actually be able to punch a ghost and hurt them, so ya’ll are gonna learn to throw a bunch, at the air but whatever”.
Dale leaning at Charles, “why are we out here like we’re in the army”,
Danny pointing at him, “so that if the teachers look outside they will get nervous and deeply concerned by what we’re doing and planing. We’re tormenting a few teachers”; that earns him more than a few laughs. Then he points at James, “you, try to beat the shit outta me”.
“Uh, really?”.
Danny rolling his eyes, “yes really. You’d have a better chance at punching yourself than me, but go and try”.
James screwing up his face, “oh screw you”, and lunges at Danny. Danny just side steps him, grabs his wrist, and flips him on to the ground. James tries three more times, Danny just throwing him back on the ground again and again.
Danny snickering at the guy when he shoves himself up, Danny putting a hand on his waist and pointing at him, “if you really want to go and fight ghosts, at least try like you want to really end them. Don’t tuck your thumb in, you’ll break your thumb. And you’re better off trying to hit with your palm, not your fist”, snapping his fingers and pointing at the rest of the group, “and even though it doesn’t actually hurt, ghosts will flinch back if you aim for the nuts, take those cheep shots”.
James immediately aims for the nuts, Danny knocking the kids legs out from underneath him, “not me, asshole”. Danny looking around at all of them, “everyone beat up everyone else like you’re in a mosh pit. Honestly, just doing that will teach you how to hit without hurting yourself and how to not get hit”.
Everyone shrugs and actually starts doing that. Leaving Danny staring at all of them trying to beat each other up in a big pile; he’s very smug.
Mr. Lancer stopping by a window, eyeing everyone, opening the window, and shouting out, “Daniel! What are you doing now!?!”.
Danny tries to make himself look outright evil, “making child soldiers! Taking the first steps into making this towns teens my personally weapons!”.
Mr. Lancer looks extremely unimpressed at him.
Emily shouting, “I’m fully in favour of that!”, while trying to kick Charles in the face.
Danny turning to her, “bite! My wannabe minion! Bite!”. And then snickers to himself when Mr. Lancer shakes his head and closes the window back up. No one bites anyone though, very reasonable honestly.
Kyle huffing on the ground, “you know we want you to actually lead us to fight ghosts, right?”.
Danny shrugging, “eh, being some leader of a ghost hunter team is really not my style, but I’ll do it sometimes or if another situation where we have to band together to fight some ghosts happens again”.
Lilly shoving James over, “oh that’s fine enough then”. Danny just giving her a thumps up while Mikey manages to land a solid cheek punch.
James tries to kick Danny this time, Danny basically slapping the guy on the shoulders to give himself enough leverage to flip overtop of him. Danny putting his hands in his pockets as he kicks the guy in the back. “Ha. Try again”. James just grumbling incoherently.
“BEWARE! I- what are you all doing?”.
Danny snaps his head to the side, eyes the Box Ghost a little, and then grins meanly. Pointing at him, “everyone charge!”.
The Box Ghost sputtering before yelping as everyone eagerly and very cruelly lunges onto the ghost. Flailing as everyone kicks, punches, grabs, flips around, and head buts him. “WHY! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS! DO THIS TO ME!”.
Danny merely cackles, kicking the Box Ghost one in the face, “well apparently a bunch of fellow teens want to start beating the shit outta ghosts who cause problems”, grinning widely, “you know, like you!”. And kicks the ghost one again.
The Box Ghost cries a little. Danny doesn’t feel an ounce of pity for the incredibly obnoxious ghost.
End.
Prompts: The kids of Casper High have taken notice of Danny Fenton's uncanny leadership abilities after the events of "Pirate Radio." Needless to say, he is taken by surprise when they come to him asking him to lead a student ghost hunting group.
Parties: @singdreamchild & @apaininyourneck
Location: Owen's Apartment
Timing: Pre-Goo
Summary: Owen teaches Cassius to fight a vampire.
Warnings: Alcohol tw
Cassius stared down at his phone, then up at the building he was told to go to. Sighing, he shook his head and rang the bell for Owen’s unit. Everything about this screamed a bad idea. Everything in him screamed that he was going against everything that made him who he was. Richard had given him everything, and now he was going to put an end to him with the help of a slayer who had tried to kill him. The nervous energy coursing through the vampire felt like a taut wire one strike away from breaking. He couldn’t walk in there that nervous. Closing his eyes momentarily, he willed the nervous energy to tuck itself away. While it wasn’t completely gone, he had no choice but to deal with it later. When he opened his eyes, he was completely calm. Apathetic, in a way. He knew he was right in what he had said when he had approached the slayer, that Owen couldn’t do this alone, and Cassius was the perfect bait.
He took another deep breath as he was buzzed into the building and opened the door, making his way up to Owen’s apartment. Cassius’s boots clomped as he trudged up the stairs, each step feeling more and more like he was being weighed down by lead. He willed the dread away, shoving it down with the anxiety he had already dealt with. I’ll deal with it later, he thought to himself with a shake of his head. He wrapped his knuckles against the door three times, then shifted his weight to his right foot as he waited for the slayer to open the door.
The vampire’s expression was one of boredom upon Owen opening the door. Still, he fully expected Owen to not let him cross the threshold into his apartment. So Cassius stood there waiting to be let in, arms crossed over his chest. “Well here I am,” he said with a flourish of his hands as he didn’t make a move to enter the man’s apartment. At least the slayer hadn’t asked to go to Cassius’s place. Seeing as how that didn’t exist, he was glad that he hadn’t. He had planned on remedying that situation, but with his departure on the distant horizon, he didn’t see a point in it.
–
There was something so fundamentally wrong about this scenario that it was making Owen giddy with the hilarity of it. Inviting over a vampire to teach him about killing vampires. On rare occasions, he’d extended an invite to one to cross his threshold, for the sole purpose of privacy when giving them what they deserved. It would be a strange turn of even to allow Cassius to walk in and then later this evening, walk out, intact. At least mostly intact, Owen was knocking back whisky to settle the strange nerves and inhibitions were a bit low at the moment.
The door swung open once the curt knock echoed through the apartment, Owen’s expression was one of mixed amusement and tension. “Indeed you are,” he murmured, leaning against the doorway as he took in the man for the first time in decent lighting. Sharp features with even sharper eyes, accentuated by silly eyeliner and the stark contrast of the light hair. “Don’t you look pretty,” he cooed before finally moving, gesturing for the other to follow him inside.
“Don’t mind Dracula, she hates guests.” The snake was coiled in its tank, sure enough watching Cassius with what one might assume was wariness. Heading all the way to the bed, Owen started fiddling with the weapons splayed out on the covers, all the while very aware of his skin itching in the other’s presence. He’d taken out a few stakes, some blades, a cross (just in case the unwanted accomplice got any ideas) and a few empty vials. To be later filled with his own blood, of course.
_
The vampire sighed through his nostrils as the slayer called him pretty. He hadn’t put much effort into his appearance, his hair tied up in a messy bun on top of his head and smudged eyeliner he hadn’t bothered to wash off the day before. He wore a Siouxsie and the Banshees shirt, a pair of black slacks, and, of course, the Doc Martens. He didn’t go anywhere without them. Of course, the slayer would take keen note of his use of eyeliner and make fun of him for it. He had expected such.
“Dracula,” Cassius repeated with an amused crinkle of his eyes, though he didn’t dare to smile. “I like it,” he decided with a thoughtful nod of his head. He stepped through the apartment's threshold, surprised the man hadn’t immediately boobytrapped the area to douse him with holy water. So far, so good. He looked over to the snake with its wary expression, giving a faint hint of a smile in its direction before following Owen to the bed.
He stared down at the weapons, crossing his arms over his chest as he felt an uneasiness rise within him at the sight of weapons that were clearly meant to kill him. It felt too late to back out now, not with the slayer fiddling with weaponry in front of him. Still, there was that part of him that didn’t want to go through with this, to let Richard live and let his life go back to how it had been before the 80s. To be with the man who was supposed to love him, and he loved in return.
He took another deep breath, daring to close his eyes momentarily as he willed the pesky thoughts out of his mind. He pressed his tongue against his cheek, wanting to say that he knew how to fight. But Owen would know immediately that wasn’t true. After all, the guy almost killed him a few months back because he couldn’t fight.
Unexpectedly, there was no jab about the python’s name, only genuine appreciation. So there was a sense of humor hiding underneath that brooding attitude and peaceful facade. Well, peaceful save for the proposed attempted murder they were currently planning. Discomfort rolled off the vampire in waves as Owen mulled over this small portion of acquired weaponry, finally picking a stake up off the bed. “So we both know you can’t fight for shit, obviously,” he sighed, flipping the stake in his hand as he spoke.
Turning to Cassius, only giving himself a brief second to think about whether or not this was a good idea and settling on not caring, Owen rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “So, time to see how much of a suicide mission this is.” Gripping the stake tightly, he took a step back from Cassius and then raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Try and take this.” A flash of the old days, of his uncle beckoning him close, instigating the first fight lesson without any sort of knowledge about fighting provided for Owen. It had worked out well enough, if the bodies the slayer left in his wake were anything to judge by.
Cassius rolled his eyes in return to Owen’s observation. “Obviously,” he echoed in a bored tone. There was no point in discussing what they both knew was true. He tapped his foot irritation momentarily, then willed it to stop. “I was always more of a run first, get caught never kind of guy.” He explained with a passe wave of his hand. He watched as the slayer flipped the stake around in his hand, allowing the discomfort to be replaced by annoyance. There was something about the guy’s face that just made it so… punchable was the first word that came to mind.
When Owen cracked his neck, Cassius stood up a bit straighter. He knew it wouldn’t be as easy as taking the stake with a swipe of his hand. No, the man was going to make this difficult for him. Still, he had to start somewhere. As quickly as a flash, the vampire attempted to swipe the stake as quickly as possible before the slayer could register what had happened. Hand connected to wood, and he attempted to yank it out of the man’s grasp.
With slayers almost matching vampires in strength, many of them turned to speed when there was no technique to speak of, which there rarely was. Predictably, Cassius lunged, moving too fast to react - except for the fact that the move was painstakingly obvious. The second that slender fingers joined his own on the stake, the slayer moved, using the other’s weight and speed against him. His free arm swung around, leading Cassius into a tight headlock, wrist twisting so that the stake’s sharp end now pointed directly at the vampire’s chest, despite pale fingers still clinging on. “Predictable. Also, you’re dead,” he taunted, mouth against Cassius’s ear in their current position.
Yanking the stake back as he released the other’s neck, Owen gave Cassius a shove to the back, reclaiming the previous distance between them. “Again,” he demanded, the smug smile on his face leaving no doubt that a part of him was definitely enjoying this.
The vampire let out a hiss of air as he found the stake pointed against his chest, and Cassius couldn’t help but find himself questioning everything as he found himself in the headlock. He couldn’t help but let his eyes drift to the slayer’s, expression completely unreadable. He was grateful when he was shoved away from the man’s hold.
He stared at the stake, trying to figure out how to gain the upper hand. He thought, however briefly, that he could try and distract him, but he knew that would never work. He could do the same thing he just did, but it had worked out so wonderfully the first time. “Do I get any pointers?” He asked, mind spinning a million miles an hour. Before the slayer could respond, Cassius tried again. This times, he used both hands. With one hand, he smacked att the inside of Owen’s wrist and at the same time smacked at the stake with the other, an attempt to make the stake go flying out of his hand.
Owen’s snippy response of ‘be better’ didn’t make it past his lips, hands suddenly whacking into his own and, to the vampire’s credit, loosening the stake. So he let the stake go, providing Cassius with what was probably a very sweet respite of success, lasting all of a second as the slayer dropped and swept the feet out from under the other man. The stake was left discarded as he wrestled Cassius down in practiced movements, forcing the vampire’s chest to the ground as Owen locked up one arm and pressed his knee into the slender back.
“Pointers, then. You keep going for the stake, I know you’re going for the fucking stake which makes everything you do predictable. Incapacitate,” his knee pressed harder down to get the point across, “then get to your objective.” Owen’s voice was low, threatening but still so very tinted with amusement.
—-
As he was pushed to the ground, Cassius felt conflicted. He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. His nostrils flared in frustration as he forced Owen off of him with a thrash of his body. “Duly noted,” he grunted in response to the slayer’s direction. He didn’t expect the man to play fair, and now he was certain this would be a lot harder than he expected (not that he had expected this to be an easy endeavor).
Once Cassius was let up, he pushed himself up and hopped off the ground. He evaluated the slayer momentarily, thinking back to the basic training that Richard had taught him when he was first turned. He took a few steps as if beginning to circle Owen. As the slayer watched his movements, that’s when Cassius struck. He raised his foot to connect with the man’s stomach, causing him to stagger backward. Then, he used the same technique to loosen Owen’s grip on the stake, slamming one hand into his wrist and then grabbing the stake out of his hands.
It was in his hands. Hardly able to believe it, Cassius stared down at the stake, then over at Owen. He quickly stepped forward, wrapping an arm behind the man’s body, forcing him forward, and pressing the weapon's tip right at his chest.
The booze had been necessary to keep from throwing this whole thing out the window because fuck, had he wanted to. A vampire in his home, getting useful information from him, touching his weapons - the thought was repulsive but not nearly as bad as a moldy elder finally finding him alone and ending his life. Granted, Owen probably could have gone just a little bit easier on the whisky, the last of it starting to hit him now. He was no stranger to fighting drunk but that usually meant taking a few more hits. Case and point, a foot colliding with his stomach, knocking the air out of him long enough for Cassius to finally gain the upper hand.
This wasn’t the first time Owen’s stake had been held against his flesh but it never failed to amuse him. Being pressed flush against the vampire was strangely amusing as well, the haze of alcohol flicking a grin onto his face, because this scenario wasn’t exactly unfamiliar either. Usually didn’t include a stake but on more intriguing evenings, sometimes a weapon or two joined.
“That’s not a very sub thing of you to do,” Owen breathed, unable to resist and never able to make a situation better. Even if it got him impaled with his own stake.
Lip curling upward in disgust, Cassius shoved the slayer away from him as soon as the man had teased him. “Shut up,” he snarled after Owen stumbled backward. “Are you ever not intoxicated?” The vampire then asked, furrowing his brows in an inscrutable glare. He hadn’t wanted to come over to a slayer’s apartment, of all things. In truth, he was beginning to doubt the entire necessity of this whole thing. So what if Richard wanted Owen dead? That made one less threat for Cassius to deal with. Still, the idea that the man he had once loved could exert his control over him left the younger vampire with a sense of unease. He could never truly be free as long as Richard was around.
There was also the fact that there was a high probability that their little excursion wouldn’t work, that Richard would still be able to gain the upper hand and flee. Worse, kill them both. He shuddered, the idea of meeting his end that way. He had already come close with Owen, and the fact that he had become reckless enough to team up with the bastard? He was asking to go out one way or the other.
“This was a bad idea,” Cassius finally voiced, throwing the stake to the ground and turning to leave. He shouldn’t have done this, none fo this. Richard had done nothing to him except show back up into his life, and he was acting as if it had become a life-or-death situation. The vampire shot the slayer a look, eyes narrowing. “And lay off the fucking whiskey.”
Laughing as he regained his balance, Owen watched the vampire work through his shit, seemingly going through the same train of reasoning the slayer had worked through before the start of this rendezvous. “You think I would have gone through with this shit completely sober? Having you in here makes my fucking skin crawl and yes, this is a bad idea even on my fucked up scale for bad ideas.” Owen moved to pick up the stake, tossing it back on the bed with the others.
“If you can’t take me fucking with you, how in the hell are you going to stand up to your sire, huh?” Owen pushed, following Cassius towards the door and slamming his hand against it. No running away. “You don’t think he’s gonna try and mess with you? I’ve known you for five minutes and already, I’m getting under your skin. How long has he known you again?” he sneered, not quite ready to give up on this current plan, stupid and suicidal as it was. Begrudgingly, he had to admit it was his best chance of taking down an elder vampire, before said vampire took him out.
Owen was right. Dammmit, Cassius thought to himself, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the slayer. He thought about the fact that he himself was doing this sober, and his skin was crawling, thanks very much. He looked the slayer up and down, then narrowed his eyes. “Got any more?” He asked, deciding that maybe whisky wasn’t a bad option if it meant dealing with the slayer. “At least we can agree on something,” the vampire grumped before finally turning around, arms crossed over his chest.
Owen was right again, and Cassius wanted to punch that stupid face. “180 years.” He answered, the words like venom out of his mouth as he spoke them. He resented Richard. He resented how his name alone made him miss him. He hated how weak he was because of him. He hated everything about this situation. He hated that he had resorted to a slayer of all things. “Fine. You’re right. Is that what you want out of me?” Cassius was stiff, as if he wanted to flea, but was fighting with himself to stay rooted in place.
“He had two other slayers after him when he first arrived in town,” the vampire spoke, deciding to switch from fighting to facts that Owen should know. “He wanted my help but then swiftly dropped it after a few months.” Cassius narrowed his gaze. “I think he figured out he didn’t need it.” He dropped his arms to his sides, loosening his stance a fraction. “Tell me what you need to know so I can supply the information.” Before I lose my nerve, he didn’t say.
The anger simmered down just as quickly as it had popped up, turning into sulking which Owen was starting to see would be a continuing theme in their interactions. At least Cassius had been slightly less of a wimp that night at the bar, drunk off his ass so getting booze in the man now didn’t seem like a bad idea. “I think that’s the least dumb thing you’ve said all evening,” he congratulated, letting go off the door to move to the kitchen, pouring both of them a drink.
“I don’t need you to tell me I’m right since I usually am but god, does it feel good to hear it coming from your mouth,” Owen sighed, leaving one glass on the edge of the counter for Cassius to pick up. He sipped at his own as the vampire seemed to be done with fighting for the moment, blurting out information. Hosting himself up onto one of the kitchen counters, Owen cocked his head in thought. “How he’s feeding, when and where. Does he have any more of you skulking around. What’s the closest anyone has ever gotten to killing him.”
After watching the slayer pour the drinks for a long moment, Cassius finally sauntered to the kitchen and grabbed the glass Owen placed on the counter. He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass before finally taking a sip. “I’m glad that my mouth pleases you,” the vampire responded with a face of mild disgust. As soon as the words left his mouth, he instantly regretted them. He clicked his tongue, mostly disappointed in himself. He stood there silent for a moment before polishing off the glass and clinking it down onto the counter’s surface.
Standing in the kitchen, Cassius thought for a moment. “He feeds by getting donations from a hospital. That’s how he’s done it for centuries. I don’t know what he does now, as his face is…” Cassius waves to his own face, frowning. “Batty.” He began with his answers, shifting his weight to one foot over the other. “He’s always been very strict on nonhuman victims when he couldn’t get blood donations.” He then tacked on, remembering Richard’s strict rule. “No blood from thinking creatures,” he echoed with a face of annoyance. “As for if there’s any more vampires he’s sired, no. Just me.” He flashed the slayer an annoyed smile. “He doesn’t share well. Another vampire to contend with? As if.” Cassius waved a hand at the thought of there being other vampires.
“Back in the fifties, a bunch of slayers caught on that there was a vampire masquerading as a doctor at the local hospital,” he began to explain. “The thing about Richard is that as soon as he catches wind that something’s amiss, he’s gone” he snapped a finger, “just like that. Didn’t even give a chance to turn in a resignation, nothing. We packed up and moved to Chicago after that. They never even saw his face.” Cassius shook his head, staring at Owen for a long moment. “He’s always been paranoid about slayers. I don’t know what the bloody hell is chasing him, but he’s always been careful to a fault.” What Cassius didn’t say was the fact that it kept him from ever forming lasting connections with anyone, and gave him a chance to spread his wings and discover what his own self looked like as a vampire. No, he had to wait for his sire to transform into a bloody bat for that to happen, now didn’t he?
The glass in his hand had been halfway towards his lips when it halted, green eyes widening in unbridled amusement as Owen stared down the vampire. Cassius looked even more shocked than the slayer, which made sense considering he’d been ready to bolt out the door after one innocent joke from Owen. “Little Freudian slip there, babe?” he teased, following the other’s example and draining the glass, despite being a few drinks ahead of the vampire already.
Answers started to roll in and got tucked away safely in the part of Owen’s mind that wasn’t pure instinct and chaos. It was useful information that might end up saving his ass in a pinch. “So he’s soft for humans,” Owen mused, that particular bit of information settling in nicely. Arms crossed as Cassius recounted failed missions to go after Richard and it seemed they were probably thinking the same thing - what would make this attempt any different?
“Well, the other slayers didn’t have bait quite as pretty as you,” Owen cooed, jumping off the counter and passing Cassius on his way back to the bed. “Now come on. If you somehow get the chance, you need to know where exactly to drive the stake to kill the bastard.”
Shaking his head at the notion, Cassius let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, guess so.” He muttered with a blink. He wasn’t going to psychoanalyze that, not in a million years. He rolled his neck as he stared into space for a long moment, trying to think if anything else was important to note. “He’s afraid of drinking human blood,” he noted suddenly. “He was a plague doctor and didn’t want to risk catching the septicemic plague.” He looked over at the slayer conspiratorially. “He loses it if he has to drink human blood; it’s to his detriment.”
Cassius quickly groaned and rolled his eyes as Owen called him pretty. He watched carefully as Owen returned to the bed, picked up the stake, and hoisted it toward him. The vampire gave the man a skeptical look before nodding his head once and readying himself. This was going to go on all night. Might as well make the most of it.
While Draxum busied himself with locating the whereabouts of Krang, the rest of the clan occupied themselves in a different way. With most of the tech gone, the basement was an almost empty, immense space, which made it perfect for a sparring tournament.
Raphael and Cassandra were first. The strikes of the mutant were heavy, carried with speed that should have been impossible for someone of his size. Cassandra, despite the weight that had settled upon her hips and belly, was still as lithe and nimble as a rabbit. In and out and up and down and jump and duck and swipe and dodge until she was able to get behind Raphael. Powerful legs propelled her over Raphael’s head, snagging her fingers under his mask mid-flip and pulling it off. She completed the flip with a handstand that propelled her into a second flip to absorb her momentum. She landed with her feet together, back straight, and held the red mask high in victory.
Leonardo and Michelangelo were up next. The brothers were evenly matched with their mad skills, Michelangelo with his thoughtless and heads-on approach and Leonardo with his rapidfire planning and clumsy luck. It took nearly twice as long as the previous match for a victor to claim the other's mask. It was Leonardo who succeeded. Michelangelo gave a loud groan, and what followed was a short back and forth argument of accused cheating that went on only as long as Raphael allowed it before intervening.
The next spar was Cassandra and Splinter; it took a lot of persuasion to convince the rat to take part, but he finally relented under the pressure of his students and took his place opposite Cassandra. The young girl skipped the pleasantries and went straight into the fight. Splinter was ready to meet her attack, his tail snaring around her ankle and using her own momentum against her to send her stumbling and falling to the floor. Splinter recovered quickly and took a few steps back, hands folded behind his back as he smirked.
“Do not announce your attacks, Cassandra.”
Cassandra gave a confused whine before she quickly brushed past Splinter’s words and got back to her feet to charge again. Once more, Splinter was able to avoid the attack, and his tail gave a whip to Cassandra’s back for good measure.
“You should heed my advice, young kunoichi.”
Splinter didn't have a chance to say much more before Draxum interrupted, trotting quickly into the room as if he were in a rush. “What are you idiots doing?”
“What’s it look like?” Raphael asked with a weak laugh.
“It looks like you’re wasting time. Time we don’t have.” Draxum said, his vines quickly gathering the clan and pulling them into a tight group.
“I’m guessing you didn't have any luck with Krang?” Leonardo asked.
“No, I didn't.” Draxum said, “And now we have a more urgent matter on our hands.”
“More urgent than ancient evil deux?”
“The files on the computer started to delete before I could get any viable information from them. Some sort of self-destruct sequence no doubt. The computers have gone into lockdown.”
“That’s deeply concerning.” Sunita whistled.
“Exactly. Now we have got to get out of here before—“
It was too late. The lights in the basement shut off, and then seconds later came a secondary red light, flashing on and off in a steady pace. Without Donatello to seek shelter with, Michelangelo’s next option was Draxum, who he hugged tightly.
“Too late…” Draxum said finally.
“What happened?” Splinter looked around in a panic as he gathered his sons and the girls behind him.
“Lockdown…” Leonardo said slowly, looking to the bars that had fallen down to seal the only exit they had. “We’re trapped.”
“Trapped?” Raphael whined. Already his chest was starting to feel tight, his mind numbing as the flashing lights seared into his mind in a ceaseless, pulsing headache that made him just want to lay down and curl up as tightly as his shell allowed.
“Leonardo, portal?” Cassandra asked hopefully.
Leonardo aimed his sword and tried to trace a rift. Nothing happened, and he turned to Cassandra to shake his head.
“Tonfa…?” Michelangelo suggested, looking to Raphael.
Raphael tried to activate his tonfa, but all that came out was a pathetic red spark that quickly fizzled out again. “N...no. Fundo?”
Michelangelo looked down at his lifeless weapon and shook his head. “Nuh Uh…”
“Can’t you just teleport us out, Baron Draxum?!” Splinter snarled, showing his incisors.
“I tried.” Draxum said, and made a show of trying to form a gateway, but the mystic spark didn't take hold. “It isn’t working.”
“The mystic dampener is back on…” Sunita said slowly; she was in her yokai form now as further proof.
“How do you know?” Raphael asked.
Sunita tapped her cloaking broach. It gave a weak spark, but nothing happened. “I can’t change back…”
“Draxum, I’m scared…” Michelangelo whimpered, hiding himself in Baron Draxum’s heavy-grown winter wool. Draxum wrapped an arm around the box turtle to support him.
“I know, Michelangelo.” Draxum said.
“What are we gonna do?” Cassandra asked.
Those were the last words spoken before the building exploded. Fire swallowed the clan whole. Debris collapsed on the group, crushing breath from those both with shell and without. Bones crushing, flesh searing. Fire, and they couldn’t breath, and they couldn’t find each other…
Sigil was having a combat training and I decided to go. I told mom that I was going to visit Doctor Yardley- which is true, I did go visit once the class was over. I feel kinda bad for -almost- lying, but I had to. It's not that mom wouldn't have let me go, it's that I would have had to had all these guards to be escorted there and mom would probably want to come and watch and other house members too, and then it would be impossible for people to pretend that I wasn't a Lady. I did bring two guards, because I'm not stupid, but they kept well back.
No one would be willing to go all out with me, they'd be afraid of actually hitting me or hurting me. I just wanted to be Mizzen for a while. I think that's half the reason I go to Doctor Yardley's so much, because there, no one cares how I drink my tea and no one's going to look at me cross eyed if I'm cleaning puss out of a wound or if I talk about unladylike things. In fact, I don't think anyone even cares that I'm noble and that suits me just fine.
The super, absolutely best thing that happened though was I got to fight with Lavender. She's a monster of a woman, huge, big, massive. She's got scars like crazy and hair like ropes and she's missing an eye and I just love her to death. She's perfect, absolutely perfect- and of course when choosing opponents, I always pick the biggest and meanest one I can find.
I like them that way, full plate, massive swords, cuz know why? One, if they hit, they hit hard and I like that, and two, their size makes what strengths I have most effective. I'm quick and smart and my fighting style uses joint strikes and flowing with their hit to try to pull them off balance. Plus I feel pretty proud of myself when I take a mountain of a man to his knees.
Yeah, that's the stuff.
I lucked out with Lav though, because she's a fighter and she's an expert at up close fighting, like where you're tangled up and such. I've never had training in that and she is a master at it. Had me down on my back in no time flat and I loved it. Light, I loved it. I hope I get to train with her again.
