3289/Trouble in Brooklyn

Trouble in Brooklyn
Date of Scene:	08 September 2020
Location:	Brooklyn Alley
Synopsis:	While trying to get information about Dom the Bomb the hard way, Donatello is interrupted by Warp and Drake Riley. The trio share a pizza dinner. Oh, and it's a bo staff -- not a stick!
Cast of Characters:	Donatello, Drake Riley, Sasha Moore

---

Donatello has posed:
    Brooklyn's street denizens have been talking. It's hard not to know about the events of a few nights ago, since the newspapers have taken to reporting at least one version of it. Some have been talking about Dominic Dominic, also known as Dom the Bomb, and his up-and-coming illegal animal trade -- rare pelts, ivory, rhino horns, and so on. It seems that one of his nightly animal fight rings, the sort where dogs and such fight while people bet on the outcome, was broken up by police. That's the official story, anyway, but word on the street is that something far weirder happened that night, but no one is really keen to share what they saw.

    And that brings us to tonight -- it's an otherwise unremarkable Brooklyn evening, perhaps a bit on the cooler side for September, which is nice because some of the neighborhoods have been without power -- and therefore, air conditioning -- for a couple of hours. These things tend to affect the so-called "bad neighborhoods" a bit more than others, where problems like that tend to be resolved pretty quickly. On this unremarkable evening, in an unremarkable alleyway, trouble is afoot. Without the usual electric lights, the alley is darker and more shadowy than normal.

    "I recommend you tell me where he is," a voice comes from the shadows. It sounds young, articulate, but almost as though its source is purposely lowering a couple of octaves -- as if it might make him sound more intimidating. "It's a bad night to check in to the hospital."

    If anyone were to come around the corner of this alley, they might see what appear to be three individuals in the shadows. Two of them are struggling against a larger figure, who has pinned them both to a wall, keeping them pressed there with a long stick held horizontally.

    If anyone were to come around the corner, that is...

Drake Riley has posed:
As it happens, when someone lives on the street, all they have to go on are rumors. And rumors aren't usually interesting to those just scraping by. It's more about figuring out where the next meal is coming from, or how to avoid danger. Drake, for instance, has been here only a few days. Local lore is a mystery to him. On the other hand, learning the layout of the streets, the 'grid' as it were, is a high priority. Blackouts can be useful for moving around more freely and not making the locals uncomfortable. Lucky night for him.

It's also a little fortunate that it's a cooler night. Wearing layers in normal September weather is unpleasant. He's gotten used to it, but small blessings, you know?

Rounding into the alleyway, the young urchin finds something he definitely didn't expect. Someone burly, holding two people against a wall with a stick, and muttering aggressively. Most people would back off, call for help, or even pretend they didn't see anything. Drake, however, eschews the norm: "Hey!," he calls from the lip of the alley. His hands lift to quickly tug the hood of his outerwear over his head, cap included. "What's going on over there? Let'em go! Like we don't have enough problems without getting hassled?"

Sasha Moore has posed:
Sasha's been listening to the rumors as well, following up on even the most abstract connection, if only because who wants to see animals get hurt? Humans? Fuck'em, but animals? What kind of soulless son of a bitch...

Regardless, she's moving along the rooftops near the alley, leaping over objects in her path with a palm placed atop this obstruction or that. Sometimes a leap is too long and she blinks out in a flash of white only to reappear on the adjacent rooftop... directly above the gathered group of Donnie, Volt, and hoodlums.

Dropping down with a little hop, the last story is devoured in another flash of white, depositing her half hanging/leaning onto the ladder of one of the fire escapes staring at this as it plays out. "Uhhh... Yeah, what he said..." Pointing in the direction of Volt who helpfully shouts demands of releasing the unfortunate.

Donatello has posed:
    "We don't know, we swear!" a second voice, panicked, calls out in response.

    This causes the larger figure to press more of its weight against the staff that pins the pair against the bricks. "That's not good enough!" the larger figure replies, still sounding like he might be doing an impression of someone else -- someone more formidable, perhaps. The anger, however, seems real. "I know you were there that night. And you know that I was!"

    A trio of sounds interrupt the violence. The first, and perhaps softest, is the faint sound of a puddle forming at the feet of one of the men pressed against the wall. The second, and third, are the two new voices being introduced. One of the guys struggling against the weight of the larger figure snaps his attention up at the fire escape, following Sasha's voice. The other two figures -- including the larger, imposing one, both turn their heads towards Drake.

    This rare, almost synchronized, diversion causes a slight hitch. It's just enough for the two men to push free of the staff holding them against the brick wall. They begin a sloppy attempt to put as much distance between them and their attacker. They're panicked, desperate, but otherwise look like a couple of street thugs running for their lives.

Drake Riley has posed:
In fairness, Drake likely looks about the same. And when there's a flash of light, his focus turns to the female on the fire escape wearing an ensemble strikingly similar to his own. It's practically a team uniform, isn't it? From the outside looking in, they'd make for a pretty convincing lineup of baddies in a sidescrolling beat'em-up. As for the flash? His mind immediately assumes she has one of those pocket flashlights, and he just didn't notice it in his glimpse. After all, his focus is primarily on the shadowy figures in question.

Seeing the two other down-on-their-luck sorts trying to run, he steps forward to interpose himself between them. The movement is more confident than one might expect; his physical presence isn't exactly imposing here. But he isn't moving further than that, not seeking to aggress the larger individual.

"They're gonna leave, you're gonna leave, and this is all gonna be over. Got it?," he calls.

Sasha Moore has posed:
Sasha aint chasing shit.

She continues holding to the fire escape like a barrel of monkey's linked with its counterparts, though. One arm looped up and around with her gloved hand running the length of the side rail while brown eyes take in exactly what the fek is going on literally feet from her tent.

The fact that Volt is interposing himself in the midst of what could, very likely, be a family dispute is secondary concerns to her. "Can you be careful, all my shit's in there..." Pointing to one of the tents with a frown, dropping off the ladder and vanishing in a flash, reappearing in front of another of the fleeing goons who happens to be running directly towards her home.

"Do. not. run. over. my. tent..."

Donatello has posed:
    The two goons seem chiefly focused on Drake's suggestion -- to leave. Their egress is sloppy, panicked, and emotional. As they scramble away from the larger figure, still mostly hidden in the shadows, the light reveals more of their faces and their looks of terror. It's like they just saw a monster or something. The alleyway is rife with the clatter of metal garbage cans being knocked over, cans being kicked, and sneakers scraping against pavement. The flashes of light are easy for these men to ignore until one of them places Sasha directly in their path!

    One them makes a sudden juke to avoid crashing into Sasha, which causes him to fall to a knee. He never completely stops moving, which sends him careening forward -- knocking over a few of the tent's support poles and even knocking around items that might be inside! They don't stick around long enough to apologize -- they're just hell bent on getting out of there!

    The large, round silhouette that remains in the shadows grows a bit, as if it's coming forward to give chase, but then...it slows to a stop. The movement was enough to reveal some features. Green skin. An unusually squat face. And what might look like a really large hump back. It backs up into the shadow again.

    "No, no, no, no!" the figure exclaims. The voice has shifted a bit. It's higher, less gruff, and sounds just a touch more natural. There's a loud sigh.

    "Thanks a lot..."

Drake Riley has posed:
Another bright flash! This time, Drake could see the movement more clearly ahead of him. Eyes widen at the realization that actual powers are on display in front of him. That's a first; a real first. He wants to address that, but priorities are stacked right now! Safety for those fleeing is at the top of the list, and that means focusing on the individual nearing.

Drake's stance widens, muscles tensing like a tightened coil. But as soon as those features are briefly illuminated, there's another moment of surprise. He just expected a really fat dude, given the outline. Green skin? Odd face? Hunchback?

"What the heck...?," he murmurs to himself.

Another glance is shot to the female, in part to ensure she didn't get hurt in the passing, but his focus returns quickly to Quasimodo. The shift in tone is noted, but he remains on guard. "Hey, we've got it bad enough out here! We don't need you.. uh... whoever you are... making things worse!," he shouts. "Now are you gonna be cool?"

Sasha Moore has posed:
There was a moment where Sasha could have got caught up in the tumbling goon crashing through her tent, but she dips quickly to the side. Shifting off her left foot onto a right with the knee bending to clear his path, then shoving back off to turn and watch him go with a step backwards towards the shadowy figure who she doesn't see was going to give chase... really, she doesn't see him at all.

She hears him just fine, though.

"Yeah, you're going to come at me with sarcas-" Spinning around rapidly to face the hulking hunchback with green skin and bulbous face. "Whoa..." It's a gut reaction, pure surprise, but she recovers easily. Mutants is her peoples, "What'd those guys do, anyways? Aside from pee on the ground."

Side glance, keep an eye on Volt, keep an eye on Donnie, but definitely check to make sure none of her few belongings are broken.

Donatello has posed:
    By now, the figure has almost shrunk -- it's not supernatural. It's just what happens when someone stops trying to be as intimidating as possible. It's still large, tall really, but it's just not trying to be scary anymore. There's no longer a reason.

    "Donnie," the voice answers, in response to the 'whoever you are'. It takes a step out of the shadow and approaches Sasha. The approach is slow and deliberate, lacking anything that might telegraph that the figure means her harm.

    Once the figure steps completely out of the shadow, it becomes all too clear what this Donnie might be. The hunched back turns out to be a large shell. The green skin ends up being, well, green skin, but it's a leathery kind. Instead of clothes, Donnie's chest is covered by a plastron extension of his shell. A worn canvas strap is wrapped around his waist and around his shell. The same canvas material is wrapped, multiple times, around his wrists and feet.

    As Donnie gets closer to Sasha and her tent, he bends down and reaches out with two large hands -- each with just two fingers and a thumb -- to try and help straighten out the tent posts. "Yes," he replies to Drake. "We're cool."

    "Those guys...Well, you hear about that dog-fighting ring the other night? They were part of it," he explains quietly, no longer trying to intimidate. In fact, his voice conveys a touch of pain -- as if the subject itself was a sensitive one for some reason.

    "Do you two live here or something?" he asks, still moving to help straighten out the tent. It's unclear to Donatello that this pair might be meeting each other this evening, as well.

Drake Riley has posed:
He has a name. A /remarkably/ pedestrian name. And the more the guy emerges into the light, the more striking that is.

Drake guides his hood back down from his head and breathes a quiet sigh. No need for powers tonight. No risk outing himself. His hands stuff into the central pouch of his hoodie and he approaches, still with some measure of apprehension. Sasha may be fine with it, but his exposure to 'weird' has been extremely minimal so far. In other words, he can't stop staring. It's broken only a moment when information is given, and he glances back to the mouth of the alley. "Ah, crap. Yeah, I didn't know that..."

Refocused on 'Donnie', he shakes his head. "No, not specifically. I live wherever seems out've the way and safe." After a beat, he tilts aside to get a better glance at Sasha. "You okay?"

Sasha Moore has posed:
Sasha side eyes the approaching figure, but doesn't seem nearly as shocked by his appearances as some might. She spends almost all of her time around mutants and lives in the streets of New York City.. Even if she were surprised, she'd never show it... New Yorkers, right? "Thanks.." Quietly said to the help getting her tent set back up, frown still firmly in place once her hood is pulled back off her dark brown hair. She checks inside and comes out with a broken ipod... one of the older ones, six or seven models back and falls onto her butt trying to get it to come on with a heady sigh.

"Yeah, I heard about that. Not sure what kind of monster would fight animals for amusement, but what about anything going on recently is there to be sure about?" Again she dips inside her tent to check more of her belongings, when everything else seems mostly intact, she rocks back out onto her heels and stares up at Donnie.. "You're a turtle named Donnie? Word.. Uhh.. yeah, I live here. Sometimes, here or the park.. or a homeless shelter when I can get there early enough. Do you?"

There isn't a whole lot of recognition when she looks over at Volt, though. Maybe they just shop at the same bum in training tailor? "I good.. have to get my ipod fixed, but it's just stuff, right? How about you? You good?"

Donatello has posed:
    "It's short for Donatello," he explains. Once the tent has been straightened up, he rises.

    The turtle shifts his attention from Drake to Sasha. One lives wherever seems out of the way and safe. The other lives here, sometimes the park. The turtle glances down at the pavement for a second, before answering Sasha's question. "No, not here," he answers. "But, you know, somewhere similar, I guess."

    "Look, it's fine," Donatello replies to Drake's apology. "You didn't know. Besides, you just thought I was beating on those guys, so... I get it."

    The turtle tilts his head to one side and then asks the million dollar question. "You guys, uh, want some pizza?" he wonders. The turtle points at the nearby dumpster. Instead of using the dumpster as a possible source for pizza, it would seem that Donatello set a fresh pizza box on top of the dumpster before squaring off against those street thugs. The brisk air allows the group to see some steam lifting from the box. It's new!

    He moves towards the dumpster and opens the top of the box. Pepperoni on one side and plain on the other. "That's a pretty neat trick," he adds, looking over a shoulder at Sasha. "Light emitting diodes?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"Still. We need to work out like a hand signal or something," Drake laments, finally letting humor enter his voice. There's still some trepidation here, though, as he tries to figure out just what this Donnie - or Donatello - is. It'll take a lot to distract him from the visual analysis.

As it turns out, pizza will do the trick. He didn't even realize how hungry he was until it was mentioned. A furtive glance is shot to the dumpster, and his heart immediately sank. Dumpster pizza is remarkably less appealing. Fortunately, the fresh pizza box is quickly spotted atop. Much better. Much, much better.

"I, ah... yeah. Sure," he sheepishly assents, hand moving to the back of his neck. He glances back to Sasha as he approaches the dumpster. "So it's like a device or something?"

Sasha Moore has posed:
Sasha tucks hair behind her ears with both hands and pushes up from the crouch in front of her tent at the mention of pizza. The rest is... well she's not ignoring it. It's important, she doesn't like the idea of anyone fighting dogs or, for that matter, any animals... but she was just now realizing exactly how hungry she was. "I... yeah, if you're offering.. I don't want to grub out on your dinner though-" Try not to sound eager.

Do not succeed at it.

Tenative step towards the turtle offering pie.

"No light emiting, just molecular destablizing reaction to folded space. I call it warping, but it's not warping. It's more like taking a sheet of paper, folding it in half, and poking a straw through it... then walking through the straw."

Shaking her head further at Volt, "I'm the device.. I'm a mutant... or a metahuman? Fuck I don't know what the difference is, if I'm honest.."

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello waves a three-fingered hand in the air. "It's fine," he replies to Sasha, turning to nod at Drake, just to ensure he knows the sentiment applies to him as well. "Pizza is one of those foods that's specifically cut for sharing, right?"

    At the mention of a catalyst device, Donatello nods his head, expecting Sasha to agree to the point. But then...she doesn't. "Huh...." he mutters under his breath.

    "Molecular destabilization through folded space..." Donatello repeats. "But...your clothing follows your body through the fold. There must be some sort of stabilization field to form a...vessel, you know, to keep it all separated from the folded space..." The 'it' in this case, however, is Sasha.

    The turtle reaches up to rub his chin. "I'm a mutant, too," he replies, furrowing his brow line slightly. "But, you know, I guess it's different. I've always thought we should come up with a different term for us." Us. Who's us?

    Donatello plucks off a slice of pizza and steps away from the box, presumably to make it a more welcoming space for those that might be suspicious. He's used to it. "I don't want you two getting ideas about these dog-fighting jerks. The two from before were just grunts. The others...well, they're dangerous." His voice betrays a small amount of concern for his new friends. Speaking of...

    "So...uh, I'm Donatello..." he introduces again, his voice trailing off at the end. It seems to be an invitation to finish his sentence.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley freezes at her explanation. There's so much to take in so quickly between the two of them and the event that just took place. It's enough to give a guy whiplash, falling headfirst into the realm of All Which Is Weird. It makes it very difficult to focus on any particular thing at once, much less absorb anything.

"Okay, I'm not.. even gonna /pretend/ I understood any of that molecular stuff. But 'mutant' I get." He flits his gaze between Donatello and Sasha. A different kind of mutant? Or just wanting to be called something else? "So you have... uh.. teleportation powers? And yours is..." He studies Donatello more closely, and his gaze starts to uplid sheepishly. "..being.. a turtle..?"

Internally wincing, he adds, "Drake. Name's Drake. Sorry, I'm trying to acclimate to all this."

Sasha Moore has posed:
There's a lot of things Sasha has and a lot of things she doesn't... An appetite? She has that... in spades. Like an over inflated opinion of herself, "I don't know the technical woodoo of it, I just know me and everything I'm carrying, up to and including clothes and small objects, go wherever I go. It's not an exact science... I don't even know if it's a science at all."

She hardly looks the sort to have a teleportation device though.

"I guess I'm the anchor?" Shrug, "Or something.. I exhausted all of my big words saying destablized field, but I didn't mean /me/... I'm stable, but the points from entry to exit are definitely not. So they collapse back on themselves when I pass through and flash or pop or snap or even crackle..." MORE shrugs.

"I'm Sasha... or Warp. I prefer Warp."

Grabbing greedily for a slice of pizza once she's given the Greenlight on eating. Momma always said no reason to ask thrice.

Waving with the pizza hand and a mouth full, "Nice to meetcha Drake!"

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello squints his eyes slightly, his brow forming a gentle frown at Drake's assessment of his mutation being his very existence. The frown softens, however, as Donatello seeks understanding in the form of pizza. With a mouthful of pizza, he explains. "No, I didn't mutate into a turtle. I've always been a turtle," he explains. "No powers -- not like Warp, here."

    As the explains her abilities, Donatello nods his head. "It's science," he confirms. "It could be engineered if the relationship between the two points of unstable space could somehow be known in advance, I suppose. The computational power to do those calculations on the fly...Well, it'd be staggering." It would seem that he's a well-informed turtle.

    "So..." he begins, becoming a little inquisitive. "...You're a human with mutant powers. Isn't there a neighborhood for human-mutants? Mutantville or... Mutantberg...Something like that? Ever think of going there?" It sounds like he holds a high opinion of that place, or at least wishes he could go there.

    A glance is given to Drake, who, up to this point, doesn't seem to be a mutant at all.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley am nor-mal hu-mon. That's the image he's tried to put forward, and insofar, it seems successful. If he thought about it, he'd likely realize they pose little threat to him and his secret. But keeping his mutation under wraps has been such an overwhelming part of his life for several years now - it's hard to shake, especially around new people and in a new location. He's content to present himself as a sympathetic, if at the very least inoffensive regular guy.

Well, 'inoffensive' may be the wrong word, given the look Donatello has given him. Drake blinks innocently.

"Sorry, you're a turtle? A for-reals turtle?," he asks. Another look is given Donnie, and it seems to check out in every way but rational. "How did-.. how are-.. sorry, I'm being kind of a jerk, huh?," he asks bluntly. "I really don't mean to be. It's just..." He motions towards the Mean Green, then quickly occupies his hand with a pizza slice.

To Sasha, he adds with a small smile, "I like Sasha. Sounds classy. I'll call ya whatever ya like, though. And that's a seriously cool power."

Sasha Moore has posed:
"Just don't call me Sherly." Sasha winks at Drake with a smirk and wipes at her mouth with the tips of both thumbs, looking between Man and Turtle, the latter of whom she focuses on for a moment, "Yeah, Mutant town, and I do go there, but... why go where people want you to be? I don't negociate with terrorists. Besides, I like it here, in this alley. There's a vent right over there when it gets cold? Nice warm air from the driers inside." Big shrug, and a tentative grab for a second slice of pizza.

Donatello has posed:
    The tentative reach for more pizza is met with Donatello pulling the box a couple of inches closer to the other two. It's an unnecessary improvement, but an important gesture. Purple always was the more sensitive brother, and this may be part of that.

    "A turtle, yeah," he answers Drake before popping the remainder of his slice's crust into his mouth. Chewing on it, he continues his answer. "You're not being a jerk. I'm kind of being a jerk, I think," he admits. "Sorry. I understand this might be different for you."

    Donatello grabs another slice and then finds a seat on top of a metal garbage can, allowing his feet to swing freely. Two large toes. "The truth is, we don't really know much about the 'how'. We have some ideas, theories, but we're not too sure. I suppose it doesn't really matter..." The way he says that last sentence suggests he doesn't really believe it. It matters. It matters a lot to Donnie.

    When Sasha makes her declaration of independence, it earns a smile from the turtle. He takes a bit of his slice. "I get it!" he declares. "You're just like my brother -- he'd probably say the same thing about it." Donatello sighs a moment and shrugs his shoulders. "Well, in any case..." A large finger is pointed at the iPod. "I could fix that for you, if you wanted. You know, whatever that thing is."

Drake Riley has posed:
The girl's corny joke gets a warm, appreciative grin from Drake. The simplicity of the humor very nicely offset the weirdness of the evening. It's nice.

As Donatello talks, Drake finally begins nibbling on a slice of pepperoni. He'd love to know the 'how' as well. It's fascinating. And later tonight, he'll probably balk at having talked to a turtle. But for now, he's just absorbing. Trying to process.

Sasha gets a look next. It's a sentiment he definitely understands; that defiance, that willingness to take risks and chances. It's why he's here in the first place. What he doesn't say is communicated with another smile - mild, but noticeable. He doesn't feel comfortable enough to make any assertions on it, but she'll get that much at least.

Back to Donatello, he finally asks: "What's with the stick? And ninja eye thing?"

Sasha Moore has posed:
Sasha puffs out her chest at the praise, which clearly is in short supply down here in the alleyways despite her boisterous self proclimation of both independence and being fine. A tenative grin to match the slower devouring of this second slice of pizza. The first just vanished, as if it too had teleportation powers that linked it from her hand directly into her stomach.

"I just don't like being told what to do. I wont pretend there's anything honorable or noble about it... I'm just a defiant cow." Said with a mouth full, so no telling how well it actually comes out. He speaks fluent Mikey though! So Donnie, at least, probably gets the jist.

Glancing back at the motion towards her ipod, "oh.. it was my moms. I boosted it before they kicked me out, but I've got a ton of music on it.. kind of old, screens cracked, but.. if you think you can fix it? I really would hate to lose all that music."

The smiles from Drake are noted, returned, and accented with an inclination of her head. As far as she knows he might be sympathizing with their shared plight as denziens of the urchen streets, but she clearly isn't the business of judging. She accepted pizza from a mansized turtle without even considering the possibility that it could be a bad idea. Acceptance just sort of bleeds off of her, even if warmth particularly doesn't. "I was wondering the same thing... you don't see a lot of bo-staffs anymore."

Donatello has posed:
    "I can fix anything," Donatello answers with some pride before punctuating that thought with a triumphant bite of his slice. "Though, lately I'm just fixing our pinball machine. Over and over. My brother is really rough on it."

    But then, there's some attention on his stick. "It's a bo," Donatello answers, almost in unison with Warp, giving his weapon a sideways glance. They've been through a lot over the years, so Donnie is often quick to make sure that others know it's no mere stick. His reply is good-natured, though, and he says it with a slight smile.

    "This," he adds, moving a hand to touch the purple face mask that covers his eyes. "...This is my disguise. So no one recognizes me." His smile grows into a grin and then a quiet laugh. It's absurd that he would need a disguise. It really doesn't make too much sense when you think about it. And it absolutely sounds like an attempt to dodge the question entirely.

    Despite being a mutant turtle, teenager, who happens to carry around a ninja weapon, Donatello seems more interested in the other two. "So, uh, I'm just going to ask," he begins, nervously. "Why do you two live here on the street?" It's a fair question, a reasonable one, but it's just not one that people usually ask. He points a large turtle finger at Sasha. "I'm guessing you'll tell me you prefer it on the street," he adds before turning to look to Drake. "How about you, Drake?"

Drake Riley has posed:
"Bo-staffs," repeats Drake dully. "Like Napoleon Dynamite." And then /very/ quickly, he adds, "ButIMeanYouCanActuallyUseIt."

Guilty eyeshift.

Fortunately, the absurdity of a human-sized turtle with a karate weapon using a simple eyemask as a 'disguise' is great distraction from his little faux-pas. He stuffs another bite of pizza into his mouth as he studies Donatello with all the skepticism he feels, and none of the words to go with it. But in all honesty, words are likely not needed.

Another distraction appears in the form of a question! "The thug life chose me?," Drake quips with an upwards inflection, joking. "Actually, that right there - that's my answer. Where I came from was worse than this. I needed something different. And if it's gotta start here, outside, sweating in a hoodie..." He pauses, head turning to glance about at their dismal surroundings. "...at least I can say I tried."

Sasha Moore has posed:
"Well..." Sasha balks a little when getting into this aspect of her life, after freely admitting she was a mutant basically out of the gate. Some things are more important than others, right? "I have a criminal record from when I was younger and it's hard to get a decent job. I mean I do odd work here and there, but trying to get affordable lodging on the kind of money you can make working at a burger joint is laughable, at best." Hands up on a shrug, helpless.

There's likely a great deal more to that story.

"But optomistically, it is nice out here most of the time. Not so much for the view of the stars, but the freedom... Tylor Durden once said-" Wiggling a finger matter of factly, "-The things you own end up owning you. I'm not going to stand here pretending that I'm in his league, but it's still pretty sound advice if you're going to be living in the streets anyways."

Sasha seems to follow the humor Donnie was going for with his disguise and laughs literally out loud. "oh god, that's awesome..." Thug life? She nods with Drake and points over towards him, "I was never a thug lifer, but I have dealt with a fair share of them."

Donatello has posed:
    The mention of Napoleon Dynamite earns a slight scowl from the turtle. "Ugh," he begins. "When that movie came out...My brothers would not stop about it." It must be rough to have something in common with Napoleon Dynamite, even if it is mastery of the bo staff. Donnie shakes his head a couple of times.

    But, as the pair begin to share their stories -- what got them here, specifically -- the turtle waves a hand in the air, as if to absolve himself of the forwardness of his question. "I mean, it's all good," he begins. "I don't mean to be nosey, I just...I don't know, I guess I never really thought about what might make someone want to live on the street." The turtle makes a point of moving the pizza box closer to Sasha and Drake -- again, a pointless gesture, but one that seems a bit more important to Donnie at this present moment.

    When Drake mentions dealing with his fair share of thugs, Donatello nods his head a couple of times before looking down at the ground. "I, uh, yeah, me too," he answers before turning his eyes to Sasha. "I'm sorry about all that, you know. Roughing up those guys in your..." He looks around for a second, searching for the word. "...home."

    "They just...I'm trying to find the one who...Well, the dog fighting. The pelts. The...All of that," he explains. His words become vague towards the end, as if discussing it at all brings him discomfort for some reason. Better to stay vague.

    "I wish I could help you," he adds, suddenly appearing a little glum. "You know, other than pizza. Though, it's kind of weird to offer help to people who are older, maybe. I don't know?" He doesn't. It has now become obvious, if not already, that Donatello is the youngest among them -- still a child. And with that detail comes a certain tone. His voice doesn't contain pity, but rather...kindness. A pay-it-forward sort of attitude.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley is talking to a human-sized turtle. He's not taking /jack/ for granted. "Depends. Are you one of those turtles that lives to be a few hundred years old?," he asks. "Because unless one of us is secretly that ancient Chinese master from Kill Bill, you'd have us beat by a longshot." Do turtles get that old? Or is that just tortoises? What even is the difference? Drake doesn't know.

He was originally joking about the thug life. Well, sort of. It was to cover his own shady past, which when mentioned by Sasha, gets a lingering look. They have quite a bit in common, and it's starting to make him feel a little guilty for not being more up-front with her. "Freedom's a good way of putting it," he notes to her. "You never realize how important it is until you're ready to give up everything else just to have it."

The crust is finally finished off, and Drake crinkles his nose at Donatello. "It's cool, man. Sorry I got in the way of it. Seriously, if I knew..." Another glance to Sasha, then back to Donnie. "..Pizza's rad, though."

Sasha Moore has posed:
"Pizza is a good start." Sasha asures Donnie with a half grin, eyeing the box with little cutting eyes off to the side as if she's silently requesting another slice. "Nobody /wants/ to live in the street... Well, maybe someone? but I just make the best of it." Shoulders bounce, gaze settles on Drake with her head tilt to one side curiously.

There's a lot of unspoken ques.

And one very physical one when she holds out the broken ipod to Donnie.

"I'd appreciate it. Not that it's your fault or anything, but it is hard, ney impossible, to replace." The device, not the music. Music is basically free now! GO FREE.

Donatello has posed:
    "No, not one of those hundred-year ones," Donnie answers while shaking his head. "I'm sixteen." He finishes his second slice of pizza with a casual toss of the crust into his mouth.

    The turtle reaches out to take the iPod, carefully, and tucks it into the canvas strap he calls a belt. Watching the path of the iPod might reveal that the belt has a number of other objects tucked in there, including a few metal throwing stars. "I'll take good care of it," he assures. And he will, now knowing the device's history, even if he doesn't exactly know what the device is. "When it's fixed, I'll leave it there, if you want." He points at the bottom of the dumpster, where the height of its legs would allow objects shorter than a few inches to be safely hidden underneath.

    And regarding Drake's involvement, the turtle waves a hand at that. "Don't worry about it, Drake," he begins. "You did the right thing -- you thought they were in trouble. I...suppose they were." It's a small brag, but one that Donatello makes casual.

    "But, it's okay. I'm working on a machine learning model -- a neural network -- that should be able to find the person responsible for what happened the other night," he reassures. "I just wanted to..." The turtle stops there. Wanted to what? Hurt them? Badly? All of that is more of a Raphael thing, but..well, these are strange times.

    With that, Donnie hops off the metal garbage can and takes the bo staff in one hand. "I better go," he says, taking a step away from the pizza tableau. He doesn't say it, but it's a signal that the pizza is staying here in the alley. "I, uh, need to make a stop before going back home." This wouldn't be the first time Donatello was tasked to bring home pizza and would have to go get another one before returning home. It likely won't be the last.

    "So, I think it's fair to say that you probably shouldn't tell anyone about me," he adds. It's not a threat, but it's also doesn't sound like a polite request. "Anyone who might be interested would be really dangerous -- to you and to me." He manages a smile, hoping that's all he needs to say on that.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley returns those meaningful looks from Sasha; unspoken, but present. He'll probably have more to say to her later. But for now, other things are at the forefront, like Donatello's need for discretion.

"Hah! Right. Who'd even believe me? I'd be some homeless dude with a tinfoil hat," he grins. "But don't worry. I'm not telling anyone. This whole thing is gonna be something I'll have to decide whether or not I believe really happened later." He smiles amiably and turns his attention to the pizza. "'Preciate the food. For real though, don't sweat it."

Sasha Moore has posed:
The unspoken is heard loud and clear, Sasha reaching over to grab another slice where she's sitting with her feet dangling over the edge of the dumpster. It's cool enough now that she can let it hang from her teeth so she can wave both hands at Donnie, nodding her appreciation. "Yeah, right here will be fine.. Thanks again." For fixing her ipod? For the pizza? Probably both.. "Secrets are safe with me. Who would I tell?"

Mirroring what Drake had just said with a grin, pushing the pizza box over in his direction with an exagerated shove of one extended finger.

Donatello has posed:
    "I realize the world is full of oddities these days, but...we have enemies," Donatello explains with a frown, but then a shrug -- as if to suggest that having enemies that you're fearful of is a normal thing.

    He manages a smile and gives a little bit of a wave with one hand while gripping his bo staff in the other. "Thanks for your discretion. See ya, around!" he adds in.

    And then, if someone were to take their eyes of Donatello, even for the briefest of moments, and then back to look at him, he would be gone without a trace. Ninja vanish!