Chapter Text
The rain stopped. Didn’t make Casey feel any better. His whole situation was shit. Angel was stuck with Dad, his team going to state was a lost cause, he’d probably have to repeat sophomore year, and he was trapped with some alien bitch called Donnie.
Things could not get any worse. The world could end tomorrow and literally that wouldn’t be this lousy. Didn’t that one newspaper comic say the end of the world should be happening soon? Maybe the universe would do him a favor for once.
He fiddled with his backpack strap as he walked behind Donnie. The monster pushed the boxes aside as the two made their way into the room on the left. Casey hadn’t really paid attention to his surroundings when he rushed through here, but considering that it was now his new home he took in everything.
Piles of junk had been pushed aside to each corner of the room. Mounted shelves covered the walls, most caked with dust and grime. Some held a variety of random objects, from old books to broken desk fans. A good number of them had pairs of sneakers displayed. They’d probably be worth a lot if they were in good condition. Maybe Casey would snatch a pair for himself.
The lights on the walls didn’t provide much visibility, plus the window was boarded shut, but the room was warm enough. A box radiator was giving off a steady stream of heat in the corner. Close by was a ratty mattress with a pile of blankets. The freak pointed to a few empty boxes, explaining that Casey could put his things in there. Yeah, uh, nope. Casey wasn’t going to do whatever his new host asked of him. But he didn’t say that out loud.
“I-I, um, I can bring you anything you need? In the east wing, there’s the Subway has food and water, a-and the Bath & Body Works next to it is the bathroom. A-Any questions?”
Casey crossed his arms. “What’s upstairs,” he asked, leaning into the freak’s space. The thing took a step back, avoiding looking the athlete in the eyes.
“I-It’s, ah, it’s off limits. D-Don’t go up there. I’m not asking. T-This is one of the rules while you’re h-here with me.”
“So the do’s and don’ts are: don’t go upstairs, don’t escape, don’t call for help, and don’t hurt you.”
Casey recited the rules and the thing nodded with each one he got correct. Guess those made sense. This gig might not blow as much as he thought. Even if it still sucked major balls. Food and shelter were provided, but if he wasn’t allowed to explore Casey knew he’d get antsy fast.
“So, what do ya do for fun around here? Watch pole dancers across the street? Eat bugs from the sewers? Or do you just like, go into a cocoon or something alien shit?”
The creature shot him an offended look, which was, well, very rude. Casey just wanted to get a read on this weirdo. And he seriously needed some action. One can only reread ‘The Outsiders’ so many times before crying yourself to sleep.
“Please, I’ve never done anything like that. But, uh, since you asked, I usually spend my time keeping this place up and running. The generators rely on solar energy for electricity, which means things will start to slow down as the amount of cloud cover increases. The defenses are currently stable but there’s always ways to improve. There’s an extensive variety of books in here and even more upstairs so if you can’t find something I could look for you. Board games are in the corner as well as some exercise equipment. Oh, and you can always talk to Metalhead.”
Casey scowled. “I thought you said you don’t let anyone in? How many suckers you got trapped in here?”
It waved its scaly hands. “No, you misunderstand! Metalhead isn’t a person…”
BUMP
BUMP
BUMP
Something was coming down the stairs. Casey’s fingers twitched, itching to grab his hockey stick. He turned to ask Donnie what was making that sound but the thing didn’t seem worried. Instead, it wore a proud smile as the source of the sound lumbered into the room.
And because this day couldn’t get any god-damn weirder, there was a robot standing in the doorway. Like a fully functioning robot. Not one of those windup toys Casey used to play with as a kid. The machine only reached his knees and was incredibly blocky, clearly made from various scraps. For a face it had a tablet screen, which displayed a neutral expression of two pixelated square eyes and a line for the mouth. A toaster made the torso, one arm was a plunger, the other an essential oil diffuser, and the legs were gutter pipes wired together.
The monster crouched next to the robot with a big grin that showed off its pointy fangs. “This is my friend, Metalhead! He can’t speak, per say, but he can still communicate! One beep for yes, two for no. If he makes a buzzing sound that means there’s danger nearby, but if he makes a static-like noise then there’s a problem with the power. If you need anything and I’m busy you can call for him.”
“So,” Casey drawled, “he’s like your butler?” He smirked when an idea came to mind. “Hey Metalhead, is Donnie here a demon or alien?”
“...”
“First, he can only answer yes or no questions. Second, has anyone ever mentioned that you’re very rude?”
“Ha! Almost every day, Oscar the Grouch.”
The creature bristled at the name, a bright blush covering its face. “M-My name is Donnie!! And… I’m not an alien! I w-was born on Earth!”
Now that Casey didn’t believe. “Yeah right. People aren’t born green, dicknips. Let me guess, your mom is the Loch Ness Monster and your dad is a chupacabra!”
If Donnie wasn’t pissed before, it certainly was now. Casey swore he saw smoke coming out of its head. The monster huffed and spun around.
“If you need me I’ll be upstairs. Unless it’s an emergency… don’t bother me. Come on, Metalhead.”
The robot didn’t hesitate to follow the creature. Casey found himself all alone. Already he longed for the comfort of his old apartment but knew he’d feel worse the more he thought about it. Might as well get comfy.
He threw his gym bag and backpack on the floor next to the mattress. It had a tarp for a bedsheet and no pillows, but on top were five blankets. There were piles of junk all over, including enough broken furniture to fill a conference room.
Casey used to be a Boy Scout. He could work with this.
There’s a spinning office chair with no wheels he drags over to the entrance. Using a hockey puck and some golf tees, he nails a blanket with a skull and crossbones over the door. He’d definitely want some privacy if he was gonna be living with Godzilla’s long-lost child.
He rolled up the My Little Pony blanket into a pillow, keeping the faux fur and green camo ones on the bed for warmth. He threw the plain grey one over a bean bag chair full of packing peanuts.
Some exposed pipes hung from the ceiling. Using a collection of broken hangars, he hung up his duds. Besides his uniform, he always kept an extra outfit and workout clothes with him. Including several sets of socks and underwear. There were no mirrors but Casey never really cared about his looks. His gym bag had a toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush, and deodorant so was covered for personal products.
His bag also held his gadgets, luckily the beast didn’t take them, and the rest of his hockey gear. Skates, gloves, pucks, elbow and shoulder pads, helmet, mouthguard, and stick. The first aid kit was running low but he still had some gauze, Adventure Time band-aides, burn cream, ice packs, and alcohol wipes.
An uneaten lunch was at the bottom of the bag, consisting of a granola bar, ham sandwich, off-brand Oreos, and a can of Coke. He’d save that for breakfast tomorrow, despite how hungry he was now. He didn’t have a chance to eat any dinner but the last thing he wanted to do was share food with some freak of nature.
The backpack had less important supplies. His math and biology textbook, a calculator, pencil bag, stim toy, eraser shaped like a croissant, umbrella which he wishes he would’ve remembered, composition notebook filled with doodles instead of notes, plastic folders covered in stickers, and ‘The Outsiders’.
After what felt like forever he was done unpacking. If you could call it that. He didn’t want to keep his things out of sight so he put everything he brought on the shelves. Then snatched up all the shoes on display to try them on. Only a couple fit him, including a rainbow pair, but he’d take it. Looks like the place used to sell New Balance before it went to shit.
Casey couldn’t look outside but it felt late. He surveyed the room again and saw a digital clock on the wall that read 23:30. Military time. Gross. But the stress of everything was catching up with him. After tying his hair back with his signature bandana, he threw on a tank top and nylon shorts. He brushed his teeth, spat into a hole in the wall, and crawled into the makeshift bed. The mattress was comfier than he expected, with almost no lumps or bumps, and the blankets smelled only a little moldy. Unfortunately, the lights on the wall were still lit. Casey thought about calling for either of the freaks when the lights turned off. Was he being watched? Probably. Which just confirmed that Donnie is a total percanta.
Even with the lights off, Casey could still make out his surroundings. He rolled over and reached under the ‘pillow’, his fingers closing around his pocket knife. He’d keep that bad boy on him until he found a way out of here. Hopefully by next Tuesday. He had a presentation on the spread of disease he was s’posed to present.
Casey felt his stomach churn thinking about the outside world. Because that’s what it was now. He was in here and everything and everyone else was out there. His teachers, bullies, friends, and family. Who knows when he’d get to go to the movies, or a taco truck, or Moma’s grave? But it didn’t matter when; it mattered that he would find a way out. He’d go back to his old life and make sure this time he never let anyone down. Himself included.
As the exhaustion of the day settled in, Casey felt his eyes starting to close. Part of him didn’t want to fall asleep in a haunted shopping mall of all places but his body couldn’t stay awake any longer. He fell asleep with a scowl on his face and determination in his heart. He’d get out of here. No matter what. Even if he had to break his promise to Angel.
~ ~ ~
“Metalhead, be honest with me, was this a horrible idea, yes or no?”
“...”
“I know your AI is intelligent enough to give me a response! I’m not playing the quiet game with you of all people!”
The robot remained silent, aggravating the turtle even more. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal of his desk, trying to wrap his mind around the overwhelming events of tonight.
Donnie had been fixing his coffee maker (which was an amalgamation of a device containing an espresso press, blender, and Game Boy Color) when the alarms went off. He checked the cameras and saw that a little girl was trying to hide behind one of the dumpsters lining the fence. With her trembling legs and heavy breathing, she was panicked, exhausted, or both. The streets were more dangerous than Chernobyl at night, so leaving her out there like that was not an option. Luckily, it didn’t take long to turn off all the defenses. Not just the electric fence, but the paintball Gatling guns, the trip wires, and the stink bombs as well. In his rush downstairs, Donnie forgot to grab his mask. Which was a huge oversight on his part. Downright regrettable due to what happened next.
Moving the dumpster was easy enough. It took some convincing to get the girl to come inside, which, considering everything, made complete sense. Her wariness about entering a dark and scary place with a lumbering stranger demonstrated her survival skills. Eventually, she came inside, much to Donnie’s relief.
She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the lights. The turtle stepped back to give them both space; her since she was probably distraught, and him because he needed to plan his next course of action.
Should he ask her if she was alright? Did she need a place to stay? Letting her enter his home was already enough of a risk, but it wasn’t fair to kick her out until she was doing alright.
Stuck in the cyclone of thoughts swirling through his mind, Donnie failed to acknowledge that the little girl was looking directly at him. When he finally noticed, the two locked eyes, dark brown looking into inhuman red. Not a second later, screams echoed through the old store.
A purple dragon came flying at Donnie’s face. What happened next he was utterly ashamed of, even if he had no control over it. But there was little he could do when his instincts took charge. Every nerve was lit aflame as his senses heightened. With one swipe, the toy was pinned underneath his claws. As he fell low to the ground, his tail shot out like a whip, smacking the girl’s forehead. She gasped before falling over. Donnie crept to her side and breathed in her scent.
Salt from tears and sweat, peanut butter and jelly from lunch, and green apples from soap. Oh, and she was unconscious. That snapped him back into reality. Jumping away from the girl, Donnie dropped the toy like it had burned him.
“Baka, baka, baka! Come on, Donatello! How could you forget to wear your mask? Such a senseless mistake is downright moronic! Now look at what you’ve done!”
He buried his face in his hands, breathing heavy though he felt like drowning, until he heard Metalhead moving. The robot looked at the girl, then Donnie, then back to the girl, and then Donnie again. His resting expression glitched out before switching to one of scrutiny, with one pixelated eyebrow raised as if to say, ‘Now look at what you’ve done’.
Donnie groaned. This was a catastrophe. And he was so close to setting a new record for staying out of sight. He needed to think. Get the girl someplace else so he could clear his head. He had an idea of what to do, but as he asked Metalhead for help he felt his stomach churn.
“Command alpha-G. Proceed with your orders until further instructions. No interruptions.”
Metalhead beeped once for yes and saluted with his plunger arm. Donnie nodded, satisfied, before carefully lifting up the child. A bruise on her forehead was already blooming, which made Donnie feel even worse about his behavior. He shoved those emotions down as he walked outside.
When he first built it, he hoped he’d never have to use it. Unfortunately, Donnie doesn’t have the best cards in life. Tonight his backyard prison would get its first, and hopefully last, occupant. He had only built it for emergency use only, but this certainly counted as an emergency.
Donnie lept over the wall with ease. The cell was small, just a small space surrounded by tall chainlink fencing on each side. There was no door so he was the only one able to get in and out. He tried not to think about how it resembled a cage. How he of all living things should be in there, not a random kid off the streets. But those thoughts would get him nowhere so he focused on the task at hand.
With extra care, he placed the girl on the ground before jumping back out. He grimaced when he realized that there was no top to the cage and with the rain steadily increasing in pressure, she’d be soaked before long. He quickly locked the door before he dashed inside. There was no time to check for Metalhead or put the boxes that separated the rooms back in place. Donnie nearly tripped over his own tail as he entered his room. In lightning-fast time, a to-do list formed in his head.
“Okay, okay, okay. First, get the girl an ice pack for her head. Maybe a bandage or cream. In fact I’ll just take the whole first-aid kit. Good thinking, Donatello. Because of the increase in precipitation, she’ll need something to cover herself. Wow, that thunder sounded like it was right on top of me. Wait, crap! I used the rainjacket to fortify the roof last week that’s right! Lovelace’s notes this is a mess. That’s fine, that’s cool. I should have an umbrella in the mini-fridge. Hold on, I should put my mask back on…”
Not a moment after Donnie slipped the cover back over his face did he hear yelling. His stomach plummeted to the Earth’s core as he realized someone else had gotten into his home.
“Kuso! Why didn’t Metalhead go off…!”
The robot had been given multiple orders. Alpha-G meant to stand guard, alert if anyone approaches, and fight if necessary. But Donnie also told Metalhead not to interrupt him. Meaning he didn’t sound the alarm.
Could this night get any worse?
By midnight Donnie had decided this was definitely a contender for a spot in the top five lowest points in his life. And that was saying something when you’re a reptilian hybrid living as a recluse in NYC.
He peeled his face off the desk and glanced at his security cameras. The video footage was awash in green light, as they recorded with and without night-vision filters, but he could see the teen falling asleep.
Donnie had pieced together that his name was Casey and the girl was his little sister Angel. He looked about 15 or 16 years old. Shaggy black hair and dark eyes. Possibly mixed descent, with some Mexican ancestry. Lots of missing teeth and judging from his sports equipment he played hockey. He clearly had a temper and a rather nasty attitude, although Donnie couldn’t blame him. He understood how it felt to be away from your family.
It was obvious that he was lying about having no ill intent towards Donnie. Not only was it obvious in his mannerisms, but the scent of fear and anger radiated off of him. Donnie would need to watch his back. He wants to give the human a chance but not at the expense of his own safety. There was a possibility it was already too late for that. But he’ll wait and see.
Shell protesting with every movement, Donnie stood and stretched. His stomach felt like crawling up his esophagus, though there was a strong possibility that was from drinking two whole pots of coffee or from the severe increase in stress he had just experienced. Whatever the reason, he knew it was time to call it a night.
Donnie told Metalhead to alert him when the other teenager woke. He slipped off his cloak, both masks, and sports tape. The cracked scute from when a brick fell on his back was still there. Hopefully he’d shed soon so it would fall out. Donnie brushed his teeth, double checked the defenses, took his medicine, and crawled up into the rafters.
Without his mattress, the next best option for a place to sleep was the hammock he threw together. Two quilts he sewed into one tied up between the exposed pipes made for a surprisingly strong bed. For a pillow he had the kind you use on planes. And for blankets, he had a picnic mat and cowhide rug. Nights like this made him grateful he lived in the trash heap that was New York’s slums.
With his heater turned all the way up, Donnie drifted off into a restless sleep. With nightmares about exposed electrical wires, broken beer bottles, and boys with missing teeth.