Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT
Warning: Sensitive Issue Discussed
A/N: Thank you for choosing this story. I do realize that this can be a touchy subject. I won't lie to you. I've been contemplating this story for quite some time but was warnedthat it wouldn't be a good ideato air it. I hope that I didn't make any mistakes.
I want to start this off with pointing out that in this story I will take no sides because I'm not really on a 'side' so to speak. Yes, I am in the military but that doesn't automatically mean that I'm pro-war. If I'm called to go then I'll go and I'll do my duty just like nearly everyone that I've talked to, veteran or no. I have not been to the war, and I will not pretend to know what it's like. If someone reading this finds a discrepency in the story or the facts presented please tell me and I will let it be known. All of the 'flashbacks' or 'stories' that you willread in this story were taken as accounts that I recieved from veterans. They are a great many in number, some are Army, Marines, or Navy so the reports might be somewhat varied. I will not go into detail into too many accounts simply because of the fact that I have no firsthand experience and because in some cases the veterans themselves were vague, which is perfectly understandable. This is a completely fictional character, and I don't know anyone with a wound of this magnitude, though I might come acrossit while working at the hospital. I have dealt with other cases.I hope that I am writing this story in a way that whether you are American, from the Middle East, or any other countrythat you willnot feel the least bit offended. If I do, please know that I am sorry and let me know so that I can rectify it. Please be reminded that this is not a story about the war, it is a story about a wounded soldier who has difficulty when coming home. Thank you.
Chapter 1
In the Gutter
Once again I wandered too close to the curb. The rubber tip of my crutches met open air and I toppled sideways into the street. Automatically I flailed my arm out, but my iron grip on the crutche's handle didn't release soon enough. My shoulder struck the pavement hard and my knuckles scraped against the side of the curb. I kissed dirt.
It is times like this when I wonder why this shit happened.
With a shaky sigh I relaxed and flopped over on my back. It might have been a strange sight, to see a crippled, husk of a man lying half on the sidewalk and half on the road but at the moment I didn't really give a damn. For one thing, the road, low and behold, was deserted. Yes, you are right in thinking that this is an unusual sight for any New York City street, but apparently that wasn't the case tonight. I'd wonder what the hell people really had to do at 1 o'clock in the morning. I guess that I'd fit in that category, hehehe.
Yeah. A crippled husk of a man.
My leg, or lack therof, decided to make itself known. The slight, but steady throbbing made me groan and ultimately helped me to decide that maybe lying in a New York City street in the middle of the night wasn't such a keen idea. After all, this wasn't Colorado. Peaceful Colorado. No other state like it. Here, I'm probably going to get mugged, beaten, then left in the path of a semi truck doing at least 30 above the speed limit.
For a moment I contemplated the idea then decided against it. Better to just continue. Besides, the gutter for some reason seemed really ominous at the moment. I wasn't sure why.
Slowly I eased myself up and onto the sidewalk. With practiced discomfort I braced the crutches and used them as my lean-on in order to get up. My right leg scraped uselessly on the sidewalk as it righted itself. My skin crawled at the sound. I hated that sound.
Technically I shouldn't be using crutches in the first place. I passed all my physical therapy, I recieved an 'approved' prosthetic, I hadn't even complained a bit. They just let me take the crutches home for 'bad days.' Yeah. Bad days. They should've been more specific.
I looked down and turned my head to view the curb. I hated my eyes. Or should I say eye. Piece of crap. Who's fu#king idea was it to put a curb in my blind spot anyway? Freaking morons. No respect.
No respect.
I gave a sigh of exasperation. Slowly I hobbled myself over and leaned against the wall. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the map. Why the hell didn't I ever ask where Emily's friend lived?
Because she hardly ever mentioned her. Maybe now I found out why.
I was certain that I could find her, somewhere in this freaking city. This freakishly huge city. Frustrated I tried to refold the map. It didn't cooperate. Damn! I balled it up and thrust it in my jacket pocket. There! Good thing that this jacket has multiple, not to mention spacious pockets.
I slowly sidestepped and slid slowly into a nearby parkbench. What was I doing? Wandering around a big city in the middle of the night...no wait, early morning. Yeah. Well, I couldn't sleep for one thing. Sleep brought dreams and no one needs dreams. They're useless. Pointless. A complete waste of time. No one needs sleep, either. I'd know. Besides, there's less traffic during the night.More peaceful. Less noise.
I shrugged off my rugsack so that I could lean against the bench more comfortably. My hands automatically slid down and began to gently massage my right leg. Start with the thigh, end with the knee. Couldn't go anywhere else after that. I scowled at the prosthetic that replaced what used to be my right calf and foot. The people at the hospital told me that I was lucky to still have my knee. Lucky. Those turds didn't know what lucky was. The doctor told me that I was lucky that the skin grafts on my right arm bonded successfully. Lucky. They told me that I was lucky that I didn't lose both eyes, only my right one. Or that I lost some hearing in my right ear instead of all ofit. It's only one eye. Only one ear.Only. Yeah, only. Only lucky.
This prosthetic device bothered the hell out of me. I'm pretty sure that it didn't fit right, it kinda pinched and moved around a little. It didn't help that the skin on my stump was sensitive.My fingers slid as low as they could in their massaging. I'm pretty sure I can feel another blister forming there too. But for some reason I just couldn't not have the prosthesis. For me, it was better to be walking around on crutches on a summer's night sweating in pants with two legs instead of one. Two is a lucky number, you just don't know it yet.
I pulled up theleg a little bit and chuckled a bit. Isn't it ridiculous how far humans will go to look like everyone else? I even tied a freaking boot on the plaster foot! What am I worried about, stepping on a nail?
Yanking the pant leg back down I forcefully crushed this pityfest that I'd been putting on. It's my own fault that my prosthetic isn't the best that it could be. I was in such a rush to leave the hospital. I didn't even let them do thier best. I was in such a rush to see my dear Emily. My dear, dear Emily.
The hour made itself known when I was pulled into a long yawn.
I eyed the park bench. I've slept on worse before. Then again I've been up longer than this before. What was...what...twenty nine hours? Thirty? My mind wouldn't cooperate so I gave up. A nap did seem good at the moment...but then again who needs sleep?
Footsteps echoed down the empty street. For some reason they sounded ominous. I didn't want to give away that I was nervous about it, but the turds were coming from my right side. It's not like I could peek from my blind side. I turned my head and had to stiffle a groan. I wasn't really in the mood for this. Empty headed streek kids were the worst kind of punks. They were the kind that wanted to prove that they were 'all that' and went out to be 'tough' when with half of them their testicles hadn't even descended.
I leaned back and closed my eyes, pretending to ignore them. Maybe they'd go away. I'm not just saying that to be sappy, either. I can present a pretty mean picture. For one thing, I'm six foot six. Wide shoulders.Regulation haircut. The burns on my arm and on my right side extended up my neck and to my ear, making for a scary image. My well-developed chest, shoulders and arms showed even through the thin coat I had over my muscle shirt. Couple that with my camoflauge pants and military issue steel-toed boots, well, I've seen children shy away from me.
Then again, add in the crutches and I guess it kinda ruins the image.
The street punks approached closer, slouching and swaggering in the way that gang members do. You know what I mean, they either have a serious injury to thier leg or they have scoliosis or something. A girl in my high school walked like that so much everyone thought she had scoliosis until the x-ray proved otherwise. That kind of walk. Then I saw their radically dyed hair and their tatoos. Even though I've been in New York a very short time I recognized those tatoos. Purple dragons.
Why the hell are a bunch of kids wandering around at this time in the morning? Then again why am I? Well, never mind. At least they have a place to stay.
"Hey, what'r the crutches for?" One of the punks sneered. The stopped in front of me, half encircling the park bench. Well. This sure was a smart little bunch.
"Tap dancing. I can be a real riot." This brought looks of utter bewilderment among the kids. I sneered. I was too tired for this!"Crutches are for walking! What did you think that they were for you morons!"
Yeah.
On afterthought, maybe it wasn't the best idea to let my temper, my pain, and my utter fatigue get to my head like this. If only I wasn't so freaking tired, or my leg didn't hurt so much...if only I'd watch my mouth more often.
All of their faces were now scowling at me. Great. Just my lucky day. "Well, what's a cripple like you doing out at a time like this? What do you think boys? Do you think he's out here donating to the poor?" They all murmured agreements and started pulling out assorted weapons from their ridiculously baggy clothing. It was about this time that I realized my mistake. "Well, we're poor, aren't we boys? Why not donate to us?" Pipes. Chains. Knives. Brass knuckles. Clubs. Crow bars. Wow. This is going to be fun.
They came in closer. My nervousness didn't show in my speach. "Look, kids. I got nothing."
"What about that bag?"
My heart skipped. I know it sounds shallow, but they couldn't take my bag. They had no idea what my situation was like. I had nothing. All that I had was in my bag. My lunch, my clothing, my pictures, my metals...
One of the punks reached for it. He happened to be in the perfect spot. My arm tensed and I swung the crutch right into his crotch. He winced, but not enough for me and I delivered another blow in rapid succession. The kid went to his knees. I swung the other crutch as though it were a battle ax. It clocked another kid right above the ear. He immediately yelped and clapped his hand to his head.
By then the others were swarming in like a pack of dogs. One thing about the military is that they provide basic martial arts training. I mean the type that they think that you will use, when your enemy is coming at you from all sides. Quick and deadly.
My fist shot out and clocked one of them in the nose. I heaved myself to my feet in order to fight better, ignoring the sudden pain below my right knee. In this program I mentioned kicks were implemented, but I didn't dare do one with my fake leg. I didn't trust it. Instead I used the developed muscles in my shoulders and arms. They swung like battering rams, clutching the crutches like clubs. But it wasn't enough, there were too many of them.
Blows rained across my body but I took it. The ones to my right side and shoulder were particularly painful despite the fact that the burns were healed, but I sucked it up. Then one of them hit me hard. I don't know if he saw how I was favoring my right leg or what, but he swung the steel pipe straight for my shin. Immediately my prosthetic cracked, a splinter shooting up and snatching a good amount of tender flesh in a cruel stabbing pinch. It was like fire traveling up my spine. Once it hit my head I saw stars dancing before my eyes and I felt my world begin to spin. Nausea rolled up in my throat and for one dreadful moment I couldn't move, the pain was so intense.
It was one moment too long.
Another swipe of the steel pipe struck my right leg again, making me cry out. This time it continued it's path and knocked the legs out from under me. I hit the ground hard. No sooner had I touched it than the pipes, chains, and other various weapons quickly went to work. My prosthesis splintered even more, sending more waves of unbearable pain that almost drowned out everything else that they were doing to me. They crowded me. With my useles prosthesis I couldn't get up anyway. I felt the crutches being added to the beating. That familiar rubber tip pounding on my flesh. In my mind I tried to picture Emily. My dear sweet Emily...
The first strike came as a surprise to everyone. It was like one of the punks suddenly dissappeared. Then another. A "Hyaaaaaa!" rang through the air and another one was beaten down. They were being attacked.
I kinda ignored them after that. Probably another street gang attacking this one for being on their 'territroy'. After all, they mark their territory with graffitti like dogs do with pee. Besides, I wasn't so sure that I could lift my head. I didn't exactly have full mobility with my right arm, all the skin was still taught and painful from the burns. I was beginning to just not care anymore. My vision fuzzed and I knew I was blacking out. For a moment I tried to fight it but then I figured 'what the hell.' What's the friggin use. I can't get up. A husk of a man...
The fight continued around me, but it was relatively brief. I waited groggily for the blows to come again from this new gang, but none came. For a moment I thought that maybe they would leave me for dead. That would be different. As long as they don't drag me off and chop off my other leg.
Instead I felt them hover around me. I tried to move, but pain shot through me all the way to the stump on my right leg. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. I tasted blood. I don't care.
"What are we going to do, Leo? We can't just leave him here."
Leo? Who the Hell was Leo?
"You know, I'd hate to admit it but I think he's right. Look at his crutches, he wasn't in good condition even before the Purple Dragons got to him."
"What about the hospital?"
"Hell no! Haveyou seen the place? There was some freaking bus that crashed and the ERis swamped."
"Your right, we better take him home. He needs help now."
With that they moved in and gently grabbed me. The pain shot through my body and I automatically arched my back, gritting my teeth to keep from crying out. The sudden movement must've caught one of them off guard. He tripped...and accidently stepped right on my right leg. It was too much.
I blacked out.
A/N: I hope that I didn't dissappoint anyone with that chapter. Please submit your reviews. Especially on wether or not I should continue. I'll repeat that this isn't a war issue, it is about a soldier out on his luck.
If you know me at all, you'll know that I welcome any questions you have, any predictions or hopeful predictions you'd like to make, plus any and all opinions and comments. Of course, these things can't be done without a review, so REVIEW people!
Toodles!