3700/Glass Houses Don't Have Windows

Glass Houses Don't Have Windows
Date of Scene:	05 October 2020
Location:	Brooklyn alleyways
Synopsis:	In his injured state, Donatello sneaks out of the Turtle Lair to get caught up on his duties. He witnesses Tora break up an attempted mugging and the two have a tense discussion.
Cast of Characters:	Donatello, Hiroshi Taka

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Donatello has posed:
    The mutant turtle known as Donatello had been having a rough week. A brief near-death experience had put him behind on a few crucial tasks. The words spoken by his brother loomed heavily over his head. Just weeks ago, Raphael had warned him:

        <It's okay, as long as you keep pulling your weight.>

    Ordinarily, this would be no problem, but Donatello had been down for the count for the past few days. Put simply, the machines can't do themselves and he was behind on his duties and, therefore, not pulling his weight. And so, despite the watchful eye of his family, Donatello left the security of the Turtle Lair in the dead of night, bringing with him an unusual assortment of items. It was a difficult task to get them, and himself, up to the top of this particular building, but he had been able to do it.

    And this is how Donatello, the junkyard Tony Stark, found himself sitting on the roof of one of Brooklyn's apartment blocks with his green legs dangling off the side. His shell and plastron are still wrapped in bandages bearing the dried markings of pooled blood underneath. Nearby, a Jansport backpack lies open and various tools have been spread out. Screwdrivers. Battery-powered soldering iron. Even a jeweler's loupe! Most curiously, though, there was also a microwave oven with its cord sliced off. In the turtle's hand, he holds a vague piece of machinery -- it looks like it could be an electronic mouse.

    As the turtle brings the tip of his screwdriver to the device's enclosure, a scream echoes through one of the alleys down below. Donatello's eye ridge rises a bit and he leans forward to try and get a look. The motion causes the turtle's face to wince, his eyes closing tightly and his mouth opening to show his teeth. But, in this new position, he can just make out what's happening on the street. Down below, a fight seems to be brewing.

    The scream was from a young woman, no more than sixteen or seventeen, who was pressured into the adjacent alley. Moving through this neighborhood at this time of night was already risky, but that designer purse caught the attention of five shadowy figures, all wearing identical black robes and the red dragon dochi symbol of the Foot Clan. Most people are unaware of this organization, but for those who are, these guys seem to be the younger recruits who were given rudimentary training but were otherwise expected to complete petty theft.

    The woman's cries for help cause a sudden hitch of breath from the turtle, who has been forced to watch helplessly from above. He turns his head and glances back at his wooden bo leaning against the backpack. He takes a deep lungful of air before looking back to the alleyway, unsure of what to do.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    Seriously, what girl would go out on her own in this area at this time? It's almost like she wants to get roughed up by these idiots. On second thought, maybe she does. Maybe this is a trap. This is something Taka keeps in mind as she creeps up on the group.
    She is no ninja, but what she is... is quieter than a screaming girl.
    "It takes a special kind of stupid to go out on your own at this time of night kid." says Taka's harsh voice as she tries to modulate it so it doesn't sound like her normal tone.
    She is dressed simply in a -very- loose fitting black Gi type outfit. The top is more like a robe than a shirt. In that the shoulders are uncovered and the sleeve-holes dip down low enough that were she not wearing anything under it, it'd be rated R on its own. But she is wearing a stretchy tanktop under the thing, and her trousers are much the same, slit down the side to make room for... expansion, should the need arise.
    As she steps into the light, she has what appears to be a Jo Staff in one hand. She is nobody any of these people know yet. This is like her third time out in costume. Oh yes, speaking of that. Atop it all is a black hood to match the outfit, and a mask over mouth and nose. No, the mask isn't bright sequined blue... it's black too. See?! She matches!
    The fact that she seems outnumbered does not seem to bother her as she spreads her feet and inclines her head. Then that staff in her hand snaps out to just over five feet long.
    For just a moment, there might be a trademark infringement thought going through the Turtle's mind. And then a blade snaps out of the end... yep, it's a spear, not a staff. No royalties due!
    But the girl strides boldly right into the middle of the group and rolls her neck as she lets out a breath slowly, settling into her Zanshin awareness.....

Donatello has posed:
    Anyone with even a passing knowledge of the underground ninja scene of New York City would know that these guys are not the real deal. They might bear the mark of the dragon dochi, but it is through their petty crime that the Foot might fund itself under the radar of the various mutant animals they share the city with. One of them was bold enough to shove the girl into the bricks that line the alley. "We don't want to hurt you," he hisses. "So leave the bag and get out of here!" One of the remaining four reach a hand out to snatch the purse by its strap, eager to be the one who brings it in. To say they're undisciplined would be an understatement.

    From above the alley, Donatello begins taking a series of measured breaths to prepare himself -- purse girl would have to hold out for just a moment longer. He'd have to go down there, despite his condition, and it was going to hurt him as much as these dopes. It would be the turtle causing pain to both sides of the fight.

    But...what was this? A sixth figure? The turtle squints his eyes, catching the splashes of flesh uncovered by the gi. He tilts his head, curiously -- he had heard of a kunoichi newly heading the Foot Clan, but it had just been unsubstantiated rumors. Still, he'd have to go down there and it was going to be terrible. Just as the turtle moves to reach for his bo, the mystery woman's jo is extended and her posture indicates which side of the fight she's on. Donatello watches, his eyes widening.

    As the jo extends into a spear, the five Foot goons spread slightly. They're new, young, and largely inexperienced. They break rank almost immediately, unsure of how to handle this. The young lady with the bag becomes a secondary concern. In fact, this moment is the one where she begins to run out of the alley.

    "This doesn't concern you," one of the Foot calls out to the mystery woman. "This is our territory."

    From above, Donatello rolls his eyes. Wrong.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "This is New York City. If anyone's territory, it is that of the United States Citizens. One of which you have seen fit to threaten." Her English is obviously not that of a native speaker. It is too correct. Too formal. She is fluent, but it is a second language for her.
    She rolls her neck and says, "I would prefer not to dirty my blade with unworthy blood. But.." She shrugs her shoulders, quite comfortable seeming. "If you wish to prove yourself even dumber than you look, I will have no choice."
    And as the girl starts to flee, Taka moves into a blocking position. "No no. Don't worry about her. Worry about me." She states. Though through her Zanshin awareness, she has her senses basically orbiting over her head, watching all movement nearby her. So if the girl circles back... it'll be more of a surprise to that girl than to Taka. "So, which if you wishes to grow a brain and run.. and which of you wishes to bleed?" She asks.

Donatello has posed:
    It would appear that there are a few staff users in the alley, tonight. Heightened senses might pick up the faintest of gulps from inside the throat of one of these would-be ninjas, but they can't allow word to get back that they yielded so quickly. With just a trace of reluctance, each of the five Foot produce a pair of black tanbo that had previously been hidden in the darkness of their robes. Each takes an aggressive, sloppy stance and do their best to appear ready. Despite their inexperience, there ARE five of them.

    Despite being one, Donnie would not need to be a genius to know that the odds are stacked against this mystery vigilante. He watches curiously, holding his breath.

    And so, it would be these Foot toughs who would try the first move. With the finesse of a callcenter scammer, one of the young men advances on Taka and brings one of his tanbo down to strike! His aggression inspires some from his allies and one more moves in to try and hit the vigilante with a cross-body strike! There would be two blows to counter, but they were both sloppy efforts at best.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    Okay. So outnumbered, the best odds are by not relying on her spear, but in falling back on her Aikido training. So Taka merely shuffle-steps back away from the first, while lifting the haft of her spear to intercept the second. It is all one move, and she keeps moving as she pivots about her lead knee... her spear's back end hooking under the first attacker's leg and lifting his knee out from under him.
    That is when she proves her reach to the third guy. That one who was about to move in on her back. She keeps moving and her spear head stops an inch from the man's throat while her eyes lock onto that guy who tried to strike her second. Yes, she did that spear move without looking towards her target.
    "A wise man would know when they are outmatched, and seek to withdraw rather than press on in ignorance." she quotes.

Donatello has posed:
    There are a few noises in that dark alley. The first would be the sound of a couple of heavy pieces of wood -- the tanbo from a few of the Foot -- striking the pavement followed by their feet attempting a quick exit. They were outmatched, knew it, and were facing the threat of a much more disciplined warrior. Even they knew what it meant when someone could kill you but chose not to.

    The next noise would come from above. "Yes!" Donatello hisses quietly, perched on top of one of the buildings adjacent to the alley. Without thinking, the turtle makes a fist and pulls it back in a celebratory gesture. The effort of the gesture causes the turtle some agony, all from his sides, which causes his grip to loosen on the Phillips-head screwdriver. The screwdriver's long fall into the alley is slow and obvious -- it clangs violently against six or so metal fixtures of the building's fire escape before landing just a couple of feet from Taka. The turtle pulls back from the building's edge, suddenly, and lets out a quiet yelp of pain from the motion. Was he seen? Heard?

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    In fact, that falling screwdriver never quite reaches the ground. By the time it gets that far, Taka has retracted her spear to its Jo-Staff size and reached out a hand to grab the thing out of the air.
    Her head turns skyward though, and then she looks at the screwdriver before looking back up. But when the attackers have fully left, she looks around and when she notices that the girl is gone too, she shrugs her shoulders.
    She does something of a parkour move to jump off of the wall and grab the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder. She swarms up it and works her way roof-wards. She's not a ninja, and not silent. But she's not charging as if on the attack.
    So, it's maybe thirty seconds later that she vaults over the edge of the roof to land gently atop the building.

Donatello has posed:
    Up on that roof, Taka would see a most unusual sight: a bipedal turtle, disguised by a purple eye mask, in peak physical condition with the exception of some bloodied medical dressings protecting the sides of his shell where it forms his plastron. The sounds of Taka's ascent were loud enough to clue the turtle that it's time to go! By the time she made it up there, Donatello has been caught gathering up nearby tools, all of which lean towards precision electronics work, in an attempt to get them quickly into the backpack. He's undoubtedly the source of that errant screwdriver.

    The turtle's eye ridge rises in surprise as he realizes that he's not alone. He knew she was coming but it normally takes humans much longer to get up the side of a building. In a last ditch effort, Donatello dive-rolls behind an industrial-sized air conditioner. There's a scream of agony as the roll is finished. He's a ninja, by every definition, but the turmoil his body has experienced is unquestionable. No one would blame him.

    In his wake, the turtle leaves behind a JanSport backpack and, unfortunately for him, a wooden bo.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    Okay, so the sight of the being makes Taka stop. She hesitates... if it was a fight, she'd be dead. But right now it is fortunate that the turtle is fleeing, not attacking. The first thought that reaches her brain and then her mouth even as the turtle does his evasive roll is, "I would think that a mask would be superfluous."
    And then the sound of agony reaches her and she winces. "Hey. Easy there. Are you okay?" she asks as she takes two slow steps before she crouches by the pack and staff. "Well made staff." she says. But then she reaches for said staff and uses it to lift the backpack by a strap before holding that end out over the AC unit. "Here. I think this is yours." she adds.

Donatello has posed:
    "And why is that?" a weary voice calls out from behind the AC unit. It's clear that the turtle is breathing hard from the pain and trying to talk through it -- it just becomes more obvious. The thought of a mutant turtle disguising himself is a little silly, after all, but it's the life he knows.

    A green three-fingered hand shakily reaches up from behind the cover of the air conditioner to grab the bo and, with it, the bag. "It's a bo," a weary voice calls out from behind the AC unit. It's clear that the turtle is breathing hard from the pain and talking through it just makes it more obvious. "But you already knew that, based on what I just saw down there."

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "I would think that you might stand out with or without a mask. Unless the mask is symbolic." A pause, and Taka releases the Bo when it is grasped.
    "I might ask what you were doing up here. You were observing, but the other question is answered by your condition." she says, her voice softening.
    She tilts her head as she approaches the AC unit.... taking a breath and sneakily going into her awareness Ki routine. "How close to death -were- you?" she asks. "And you should not worry about your appearance. I am not one to judge a book on its cover."

Donatello has posed:
    Ah yes, Donatello -- the turtle with the pointless purple eye mask. It's been a subject of some debate, recently, and a conclusion never was drawn. Why did the brothers wear them? Perhaps it's an uncertainty even to them. The comment goes unaddressed.

    "Well, I was up here before all that ... commotion," the voice explains. "I was going to go down there but you had it handled." It's true, the turtle's reaction time was slow -- long enough for another to step in to do what was right.

    The question about death brings a hitch of air from the turtle. "What do you mean?" he calls out, leaning out from the side of the AC unit. Hiding was pointless. By now, she knew. Donatello takes a deep breath and slowly brings himself to his feet -- it's sloppy work without tensing his sides. "I'm not dead."

    Thanks, Donnie! That part is clear. The response is nothing more than an attempt to offer up zero information, at least for now.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    Shaking her head, Taka steps back to give space. She doesn't want to seem intrusive or encroaching or any other bad thing by staying too close.
    "I meant... you seem worse for wear. As it you were -seriously- injured far too recently to have returned to the field. Unless there is a -very- important reason you came out here against... doctor's? orders." The word Doctor's sounded like a question.
    She lifts a hand towards the turtle as if feeling a flow of water over her fingers. "Your Ki. It feels... off." she says softly, her eyes half lidded.

Donatello has posed:
    "Doctor's orders?" Donatello questions, tilting his head to the side. The idea earns a faint smile before he shakes his head. "I mean, there'd have to be an important reason, right?" A lingering glance is given the backpack clutched in his fist. An important reason, indeed. Donatello turns his attention to the mystery woman making claims about his ki.

    The skeptical turtle gives an incredulous pass of air. In fact, his eyes briefly close so he can roll them in private. "Oh, I see," he begins with little effort in his words. "You're one of those." The turtle makes a motion suggesting that he's looking to take his bo and backpack and go.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    Her mouth quirks into a smile. One that her mask covers. But her eyes crinkle, giving it away. "One of -those-?" she asks. "Might I ask what -those- are?" She adds as she tilts her head to one side. "Such words sound as if they are made of stone and being hurled from a glass house without first opening the window."
    She opens her eyes fully then and adds, "If you wish, I could try to ease your pain some. That is.. if you would allow one of -those- to come near you."

Donatello has posed:
    "Oh, nothing," Donatello explains with a heavy sigh. The turtle doesn't go for pseudoscience and the mythology around ki had been filed away in his mind as such. With the bag now slung uncomfortably on his shoulder, the turtle bends down, slowly, to try and pick up the inexplicable microwave oven. A hiss of air, a sign of pain, passes through his teeth.

    "Why would someone in a glass house even need to open a window?" the turtle questions, breathing heavily as he works through the pain. The medical dressings that were previously stained from dried blood have begun to drip. The dive-roll from earlier had freshened some of them.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "Look. My English is not flawless. My vernacular is even worse." admits Taka. "But both are far better than your current wounds. You are seeping. If you do nothing more, please let me help you re-dress your bandages." she offers with a bit more firmness in her voice.
    And now she does move forward. "Unless being a crackpot means that I cannot help in this situation."

Donatello has posed:
    "Crackpot," Donatello repeats, some amusement in his words. "Look, I didn't want to say it, and so I didn't, but that would be the correct word." The desire for this stranger -- dangerous stranger -- brings a quirk to the turtle's eye ridge. To call it a brow would be generous.

    "Look, with all due respect, would you allow a masked stranger to render any medical attention on you?" he wonders, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, I suppose I'll confirm that you're not hallucinating and add that turtle physiology is different, as you may imagine."

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "A stranger whom you just watched fight off five armed men in the defense of one young woman's purse. If you are going to be factual, include all of the facts please." offers Taka. But she does stop. "If you do not allow me to aid you, then you should at least allow -someone- to."
    She lowers her hands and then bows formally. "I am Tora. The tiger." she states by way of introduction.

Donatello has posed:
    "Someone will," Donatello confirms, cryptically. His mind lingers on his home and the darkness he snuck through in order to leave. His father and brothers asleep in their bedrooms and Kainashi keeping watch, in her sleep, on the couch. One of them would tend to his wounds, again, if he could just get back in there undiscovered.

    "And I would remind," the turtle adds, sticking an index finger into the air. "That the ability to render harm does not make one suitable for healing it." Another tuft of air before Donatello tries to respond to the stranger's politeness with a tight bow of his own. As an American teenager with Japanese ties, his bow is not an expression of his position in this interaction. It's just as low as his body would allow right now. The stranger's voice, diction, and bow give the turtle a clue that she may be from the old country. To explain the shallowness of his bow, Donatello lets out a yelp of pain -- a gesture as manufactured as it was genuine.

    "I am Donatello. Donnie," he greets. A smile forms. "The turtle."

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "The ability to render harm does not. But the reason for rendering it may give someone a bit of... shall we say, lee-way?" asks Taka. She recognizes the excuse and merely nods as she accepts the bow's restriction. "I believe the proper American saying is.. one living in glass houses should not throw stones. Yes, that is it. Forgive me, I finally remembered the actual phrase."
    But then she shrugs and turns to walk towards the roof's edge. "What -were- you doing out here on this rooftop? If you can share that."

Donatello has posed:
    "Yeah, well, I know a guy who would've jumped down there in an instant and there's no way I'd ever let him bandage me up," Donatello mutters, his mind lingering on the always concerning Casey Jones. After a moment, he takes a deep, painful breath. This was not Casey Jones. The turtle relaxes a touch.

    What was he doing on the rooftop? With another deep breath, Donatello summons enough strength to move his arm to get the backpack to waggle a bit. "I had to catch up on some work. I fell behind on my responsibilities when I was...."

    Dead? Was he? His words trail off.

Hiroshi Taka has posed:
    "You are wounded. You are allowed time to recover. You should take the time if you do not wish the aid in speeding it up. But... I will be around the city. I suspect you will have no trouble finding me if you wish to speak to a crackpot." Those words come from Taka before she just steps off of the rooftop of thje six story building and drops to the ground as if she'd jumped off of a six foot high wall... her feet barely making any impact. Karumi-Jutsu to the rescue! Crackpot indeed.

Donatello has posed:
    "Tell that to my brother," Donatello replies, unamused. The comment about being a crackpot brings Donatello to the edge of the building. He grabs the edge with both hands and leans forward. "You were the one who said crackpot!" he reminds loudly, calling out into the darkness.

    The turtle turns away from the building's edge and takes a deep breath. Remorse flutters across his features as he looks down. He wasn't the one who said it, but it certainly feels like he had. After just a moment, Donatello slowly lowers himself back into a seated position and begins to remove the contents of the backpack again. Back to work.