3310/Home Sweet Sewer

Home Sweet Sewer
Date of Scene:	10 September 2020
Location:	Brooklyn Sewers
Synopsis:	In these trying times, Drake Riley convinces Donatello to stay true to himself. Donatello discovers that Drake has mutant powers. Who knew?!
Cast of Characters:	Donatello, Drake Riley

---

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello has seen better days. Compared to earlier, his skin is a slightly different shade of green -- instead of a generally uniform tone, his face has spots that are slightly lighter, perhaps even with some additional wrinkles that normally wouldn't be there. His purple face mask isn't worn -- instead, it hangs at his neck. The skin under his eyes appears swollen and dark, similar to what humans would normally call 'bags'. All of it suggests just one thing -- Donatello is tired.

    The canvas strips that wrap across his hands and cover his knuckles are worn, tattered, and seem to have accumulated dried spots of blood. He walks through the sewer tunnels with a slight drag in his step, fatigue starting to take its toll. He knows these sewer tunnels well and is able to navigate them without giving it his full attention.

    And that's good...because, currently, the rest of his attention has something else to worry about. Donatello is dragging something heavy and awkward through the sewer. His right hand is clutching the shirt collar of a man who seems to have received a few bruises to the face. His body is limp. Donatello is dragging the man rather unceremoniously, as though he was a bag of oranges.

Drake Riley has posed:
WHEN SUDDENLY!

Donatello is likely very familiar with the sound of metal sliding across asphalt; the telltale noise of a manhole being moved. City light shines down from above, and a figure nimbly pivots onto the top of the ladder. Gunshots *CRACK* through the air, and the manhole is dragged back into place, cutting off the light.

Sleeves grab onto the outer edge of the ladder, because ew, sewer. Feet kick out to mirror the positioning, and the figure descends rapidly along the ladder in a controlled slide.

Right in front of Donatello, most likely.

With hood dran up over baseball cap and sunglasses worn, it might be difficult to identify Drake at first. Then again, it's the same outfit he wore earlier. Sunglasses are the only addition.

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello is indeed familiar with the sound of a manhole being moved. It earns a sudden reaction from the turtle. He stops moving, almost immediately, to create an opportunity to assess how real this threat is. It's close. It's real. Vanish!

    And so, on the floor of the sewer tunnel, a man lies motionless, just a few feet from a large, curved supply pipe -- it's a large one, meant to supply water to the sewer's lower levels. As far as the man, well, it's clear that he's been beaten into unconsciousness, but from the look of his clothing, he hasn't been lying down here in the sewer for long. A keen observer might recognize him from a recent encounter in a Brooklyn alleyway. The only thing that's not obvious is how he got down here...

Drake Riley has posed:
Sliiiide, *squik*. Shoes hit concrete. And immediately, Drake has spotted the motionless dude on the floor.

"Aw, /come on/ now," he laments. He just ducked the police! Now he's finding bodies in the sewer!? He leans down to inspect the guy, not liking what he's seeing. The sunglasses are plucked from his face and tucked away into the central pouch of his hoodie, and recognition sets in. It's the dude who he 'saved' earlier. The one who was up the horrible things with animals.

Still, it's /extremely/ unnerving to find something like that in a dank, dark sewer. It's giving him all the wrong horror movie vibes.

"Alright..," he says in a guarded, hushed tone. "..I've never beaten up a clown before. But if you're down here, Pennywise," his hands lift, and they suddenly come alive with brilliant blue arcs of electricity, "I'm about to rock your world."

Donatello has posed:
    This is not good. He just left the guy, right there, out in the middle of the tunnel! Donatello squats, motionless, in the shadowy space behind the supply pipe. This is truly not good! Peering over the pipe's top edge, Donatello watches the other figure inspect the body. Is he going to have to disappear another person, tonight? It's a slippery slope, Donatello, a slippery slope...

    But then...that voice. It sounds somewhat familiar. It earns, at least, a slight squint from the turtle, who leans forward to get a closer look. When the electricity begins arcing and providing a little more illumination, Donatello's expression shifts to one of recognition.

    "You might want to cool it with that stuff," he calls out from behind the pipe. "There could be flammable gasses moving through the pipes."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Oh sh-," Drake nearly swears, both out of startlement and concern. The electricity cuts off immediately. "-I.. mean.. literally, I guess. Wait." Oh crap, that's a turtle he recognizes, who now knows he can do electrical things. His hands quickly stuff into the pouch of his hoodie. Nothing to see here!

"Donnie? That you back there? You're not eating this guy, are you? Pizza's a lot better, amibro."

Donatello has posed:
    "Why would..." Donatello begins. Instead of finishing, he just shakes his head and walks out from behind the supply pipe. "Yeah, it's me. What are you doing down here?" It's a fair question, but one that might accidentally betray a sense of familiarity with the sewers. After all, why would Donatello think that he's owed an explanation for why Drake is in the sewer?

    "No, no, I'm not eating him," he replies, a touch of annoyance in his voice. Such a thing to suggest! "It's one of the two guys from last night. I'm bringing him---" And there it is. He hadn't thought this far. Why was he dragging him through the sewer? This tough-guy stuff is all very new to Donatello. It's more of a Raphael thing.

    Donnie looks down at the unconscious man and sighs. "If I told you I normally didn't do this stuff, would you believe me?" he wonders aloud, looking up at the mutant with tired, swollen eyes. The electric light show, it would seem, is going unmentioned for the moment.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley is fine with the lightshow being unmentioned. Or unnoticed! Is it possible?

Well, no, he addressed it directly before. Did he forget? Drake is not taking up gifthorse dentistry tonight.

"Uh, you know how it is. Cops don't take kindly to certain types...," he murmurs, heel scuffing gently and oh-so-innocently against the sewer stones. He's a good boy who done nothin' wrong. That's what he's shooting for. "As for your question?"

His head tilts to regard the unconscious(?) man again. A skeptical glance lifts to Donatello. "Not really."

Donatello has posed:
    Donatello returns the skeptical glance with one of his own. "So, the cops chased you down here because...you have mutant powers?...are homeless?" he asks, his brow furrowing slightly. He, too, isn't buying it.

    The turtle reaches up to grab the purple facemask hanging at his neck. He lifts it so that it covers up his eyes -- you know, so no one would recognize him. "Yeah, well, I /don't/ normally do this kind of thing," he adds. "Just so you know. It's just...it's..." He searches for the word. "It's complicated."

Drake Riley has posed:
"Complicated as running from the cops, I'm sure," Drake replies, one eyebrow lowering.

That colorful eyemask is still funny to him. It seems so unnecessary! What, like it helps him blend with normal people? But now isn't the time for laughs. They're testing the waters, here.

Donatello has posed:
    This is weird for Donatello. Among those who know all of the turtles, he's usually considered the smart one. The nice one. The sensitive one. But, here's a guy who has caught him doing some very awful things -- twice! The turtle takes a breath and shrugs his shoulders. "Fine," he agrees, dropping the line of questioning about the cops.

    Donnie reaches down and grabs a handful of the unconscious man's shirt. It's time to get him moving again. "I assume you're not going to stop me with this, right?" he wonders, giving Drake a glance. He knows about the powers now, so...anything could happen.

Drake Riley has posed:
"Is he dead?," is Drake's immediate response. He didn't look dead to him before, but he's eighteen. He doesn't know what dead people look like. He hopes he isn't. He hopes Donatello is a nice turtle. He seemed like a nice turtle earlier.

Donatello has posed:
    "No," Donatello explains, his voice softening a touch. It's not the fake, Raphael impression he was doing last night, but it's also not his usual tone. It's a little hoarse from lack of sleep. "He's not."

    The turtle gives the body a tug, as if to demonstrate that it's totally and completely limp. "He's got to be pretty scared of someone to keep their secrets. I need to bring him somewhere and be scarier."

Drake Riley has posed:
There's a soft sigh, visible amidst the foul sewer air. Drake shakes his head. "Maybe there's another way."

He *squik*s after the turtle along those wet, gross stones. "You're smart, right? You had all that techno-savvy knowledge earlier, about.. uh.. wormholes.. or.. whatever?" He glances to the limp guy being dragged, then back to the turtle. "There's always more than one way to do something. And usually one that plays more to your strengths. For me, it's hoodrat stuff," he admits. Why hide it at this point? "For you, I'd think it's brainy things."

Shoulders hunch slightly.

"Truth serum? Like what the CIA uses?"

Donatello has posed:
    "Sodium thiopental," Donatello answers with a slight smile. Now this is a space he's comfortable in. The brainy one. Sadly, the turtle shakes his head. "No time. That stuff is tricky to make -- I don't have the equipment ready and I need answers /now/." He continues his trek through the tunnel.

    "And I need him to stop," he adds. It would seem that Donatello's mind is made up.

Drake Riley has posed:
Drake Riley starts to smile, only for it to disappear when the idea seems to fall flat. "Tracker?," he suggests. "Phonetap? Feed'em poison and dangle the antidote until he answers, only you don't actually poison'em?" He's swinging wild!

For all of Drake's faults in his current schemes to get out of the gutter (literally, at this point), he can tell when someone's energy is off. It's an incurably itch, trying to fix that for people.

Donatello has posed:
    Sigh. Donatello releases the body, which slumps down onto the sewer's floor. He reaches up and pulls his mask down before giving his eyes a well-needed rub. The turtle looks back at Drake with a pair of tired, swollen eyes. He takes a long, deep pull of air to fill his lungs and then lets it out. His breath smells like energy drinks.

    Donatello's eyes shift between Drake and then the next ladder leading to the streets. He takes a couple more deep breaths, his eyes lowering a touch. After a long pause, he points at the ladder. "Bring him up," he manages, quietly. It might be a statement, but it has the inflection of a request. There's even an implied 'please' in there.

    Donatello doesn't watch to see if Drake does it. He just sighs and continues a slow, tired walk through the sewer tunnel. Probably to finally get some rest.

Drake Riley has posed:
W-what?," asks a surpsied Drake. He doesn't really know what to make of this turn of events. He feels sympathetic for the turtle, he gets where he's coming from, but this doesn't feel like the right result either. Or is it? He's still severely in the dark about the details here, but from how it's sounding, this might be the better alternative than letting Donatello mess himself up. His chakras are out of wack, or whatever.

Something isn't right, okay?

"Be safe, dude..." It's the best he can offer.

He looks down at the guy and has immediate regret. How in the Hell is he going to lug him up the ladder?

There's a plaintive exhale, and he shakes his head. He won't make this the turtle's problem. So he leans down to begin figuring out a way to heft him up along the rungs of the ladder, grunting and straining along the way. Worse still to come is managing the manhole cover while balancing a limp dude.