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Chapter 3--Retrospection “In the real world
As in dreams,
nothing is quite
what it seems.”
--The Book of Counted Sorrows--July 26th, 1998
“Jesus,” was all Raphael could think to say as he shook his head. Mona Lisa
sat quietly beside him on the porch swing, staring at the railing straight ahead. She
had not been able to go back to sleep, so she had gotten up and gone outside. The
sky was just beginning to lighten when Raph joined her. At first, Mona Lisa wouldn’t
tell him anything, but after a little coaxing she rattled off the happening of her
nightmare.
“I was so scared. . . “ Mona Lisa released a shuddery sigh.
“Come on, hon. It was just a dream. You’re letting yourself get all worked up
over a dream.” Raph slipped an arm around her.
“. . . Real. . . It was so real.” Raph could barely heard her.
Raph had never seen Mona Lisa so down. Becoming alarmed, he decided to
try to tap into a rare part of himself . . . and be charming. He gave her several light
kisses--on her cheek, on the tip of her beak, and on the corner of her mouth--then
took her into his arms comfortingly. She clung to him as he stroked her hair
crooning, “My poor baby. It’ll be OK. . . “
After a few minutes, Mona Lisa pulled away and smiled at him. The
expression made him feel better and worse. He could almost see her pushing the
terrible dream away, locking it up with all the other memories she’s tried to forget.
Repressing any feelings of anger or fear with her usual perky, cheerful nature. ‘Like I
do’ Raph thought grimly, ‘except I pretend to be mean and tough.’ “Hon--” He
started.
“Come on, let’s go get breakfast started,” she stood before him, holding out
her hands to help him up.
“. . . Are you gonna be OK?” He asked, eyeing her offer.
She smiled radiantly at him, “Of course silly. Let’s go.” Mona Lisa took his
hands a pulled him to his feet, then lead him into the kitchen.
Raph gently moved her into the niche where the two countertops met to form
a 90 degree angle, put a hand on each counter to trap her there, then looked at her,
“Seriously, are you all right?”
The eyes that met his were full of love as she smiled at him. Mona Lisa
wrapped her arms around his neck, her face close to his, her body pressed to him,
“Yes I’m all right. Thanks for listening to me.” She pressed her lips to his. Satisfied,
Raph put his around her, holding her tightly to him as he returned the kiss. . .
“Is this a private party, or did you two just forget where you were?” Came a
voice from the stairs. Raph pulled back and sighed. Mona Lisa peered over his
shoulder and said cheerfully, “Hi Mikey.”
Stepping toward the fridge Raph greeted his brother without looking at him,
annoyed at being interrupted, “Morning.”
“Good morning Raph,” Mike turned his attention to Mona Lisa. “Hey Baby,
got a ‘good morning’ like that for me?” He spread his arms toward her.
Grinning, Mona Lisa went to him, giving him a hug and a quick peck on the
cheek. She noticed Mike held her very tightly. . . tighter than usual. “Oof! Geez
Mike, did you miss me during the night?”
Pushing away his nightmare, Mike forced a smile, “Can I help it that I’m happy
to see you, Good Lookin’? The night is long.”
Raph snorted from his stooped position in front of the fridge, drawing their
attention.
“Careful,” Mona Lisa smiled, winking, “I’ve got a jealous boyfriend.”
Mike kissed her cheek and hugged her again, “I hardly blame him,” he
whispered in her ear.
Giggling, Mona Lisa wiggled away from him, “Such a flirt!” Then turned to
Raph, “Maybe we should let the ‘Master of the kitchen’ do all the work.”
“Yeah Raphers! Step back and let a pro show you how it’s done!”
Raph sighed and shook his head, “Why me?”
--June 31st, 1998
Finally! The time was almost right. Zachary smiled at his work. Nearly finished
at last. After. . . How long had it been? Bah, that didn’t matter anymore. Only one
thing mattered now. . .
Gathering subjects had been easier than he’d expected. He had four: Lizard,
cockroach, dog, and Rat. They now stood before him, nearly fully developed and
ready. Zachary was pretty sure the mutagen compound was pretty close to that
which was used for Her. If not, it didn’t matter. They’d lasted this long, maybe they’d
be OK for a while longer. He had a feeling they would destabilize, but he hoped
they’d hold out long enough for their mission.
Rayner--Lizard. Huge and strong, quite smart with a small vocabulary. He was
taller than Zachary now, and outweighed him, too. Being the species of lizard he
was, a green anole, Rayner could climb walls and ceilings.
Brock--Cockroach. Found in a corner of the lab, he’s the smallest of the four.
His intelligence level was quite low, but he followed orders with numb efficiency, like
a robot or zombie. He could squeeze into tight spots easily.
Fidel--Dog. A stray found outside the lab, rummaging around the trash. He’d
come to Zachary whistles, wagging his tail and panting happily. Even in his present
state--almost as tall and nearly as smart as Rayner--he was so happy to receive even
the slightest praise from Zachary. Fidel accepted Zachary as his master, and followed
orders with extreme devotion. His jaws, massive and large, were lethal.
Sheridan--Rat. Small, quick, mean. He was that way when Zachary found him
in the live trap he’d set. After mutation, he still had those characteristics. Though he
accepted Zachary as “master” he didn’t always do as he was told, but the other’s
helped keep him in line. Zachary thought that his bitterness was due to his
frustration at his inability to communicate.
Each looked at him now: Rayner with interest, sensing the rise of excitement
in his master, head cocked slightly; Brock blankly, mandibles working ceaselessly; Fidel
panting and grinning, gaze full of love for his master; Sheridan’s eyes narrowed
suspiciously, standing apart from the rest. All had the bipedal advantage of humans,
standing tall and strong, waiting for orders.
Zachary did as he had done for several nights, pass a soiled cloth under each
of their noses. A link to that which he wanted them to eventually find. Something
he luckily had had in his pocket before the fire: A sample of blood. HER blood. He
was not able to use it to copy the chemical levels used to create her, but it did have
other uses. He had poured a tiny bit onto a clean rag and allowed each of them to
smell it. Rayner and Fidel showed the most interest, Brock was unresponsive, and
Sheridan pretended not to care, even though he sniffed the cloth ever time.
“Soon,” Zachary said, running the cloth under each of their noses once more,
“soon you will go on your first mission.”
Sheridan hissed softly and sniffed the cloth. Uttering a small, sharp bark, Fidel
eagerly inhaled the scent, to him identifiable as a color--Dark, rich green, female--and
filed it away in his brain. Brock’s eyes followed the rag, his feelers quivering, but
Zachary would not let him have the cloth when he reached, so he chirped. Rayner
delicately sniffed the cloth, a tantalizing odor, then cocked his head at Zachary again.
“Why?” he croaked, wanting to know why Zachary was doing this.
“Ah, you’ll find our soon enough, Rayner.” Zachary stroked Rayner’s large,
smooth head. “You’ll all find out soon enough.”
--July 26th, 1998
Wendy sat quietly at the Meditation spot. While her body was motionless and
relaxed, her mind was churning. ‘Something’s wrong,’ her mind whispered.
‘Something’s wrong. . . ‘ but what? Mona Lisa. She was sure it had something to do
with her friend. She had been awakened by Leo, who told her she was crying out in
her sleep. Faint images of a nightmare that was not hers were creeping into her
subconscious, but Wendy could not retrieve the dream completely. While Mona Lisa
did not show it, Wendy sensed something was bothering her. She’d tried talking to
her, but got no where; Mona Lisa had already buried her troubles deep within.
Judging from the concerned glances Raph was giving Mona Lisa, Wendy decided she
had already confided in him, at least a little. Wendy was glad about this, for at least
Mona Lisa was talking to SOMEone. But she also found herself becoming a little
jealous, too. ‘Mona Lisa was my friend first!’ a bratty little-child voice rang in her
head. She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t think like that. Her friend had
found love, but that didn’t mean Mona Lisa did love or need Wendy any more.
From experience, Wendy knew that these little tickley, troubling thoughts that
wouldn’t go away were most likely a warning. Her wand gave her this semi-psychic
ability. It lay across her lap now, glowing a mellow blue. At a slight touch, the color
shifted to a pale pink--almost white--and very bright. Clutching the wand tightly with
both hands, Wendy focused. The dream, she sifted through the subconscious,
needing to find it, despite her fear. In a meditative state, the power of the wand
reached in, probing the back of her mind, snatching the nightmare, and bringing it
forward to her conscious. . .
Horrible scenes of death and torture came to her as Wendy re-lived a shared
nightmare. In Wendy’s ears, she could hear the screams of pain and terror as her
friends were twisted and torn apart. Fearsome Animal-like howls mingled with the
cries. A mental whisper--Mona Lisa’s voice--’Help me, Please,’ drifted to Wendy’s
mind. . .
She was jerked out of her trance by a touch. “My student, what’s wrong?”
Splinter’s voice was full of concern.
The rat sat beside her as Wendy caught her breath. After a few moments, she
told him everything she had seen and heard. She kept nothing from Splinter. He
listened quietly as Wendy completed her recap of the nightmare. “I can’t help feeling
that it means something.”
“Dreams can be quite powerful,” Splinter nodded. “If you feel this way, there
is surely a reason for it. Perhaps you should talk to Mona Lisa.”
“I tried that,” Wendy sighed, “But she wouldn’t talk to me. She’s already
buried it.”
“Then something is surely disturbing her as well. You must keep your mind
open for such warning signs, but do not endanger yourself.” Splinter’s voice was
stern.
“Yes, Sensei.”
Splinter’s tone softened, “This is why I did not pair you with Mona Lisa. It is
apparent that the bond you share is already strong from the amount of time you have
spent together.” He slowly stood, “Now come along. A sparing session will clear
your troubled mind.” The rat smiled at Wendy’s groan.
End Chapter 3 Home--Profiles--Links--Artpage Back to Fanfic Page Back to Chapter 2 On to Chapter 4
