Number 73 - A TMNT story

Part Four: Settling In

  "I'm still unsure as to why you like this garbage." 73 said, turning over an overly-orange neon Christmas sweater that had been left in the storeroom of a vacant outlet within the mall.
  The security had been turned off, thanks to the clever hands of 62, and they had explored far enough to find an abandoned storage area, filled to the brim with holiday decor and broken merchandise. Things that would never be sold accumulated like flies on a dead cat.
  Currently, the hyena was in the corner, gushing over a box filled with fedoras and machine-made napkins that had little pictures of witches on them.
  "It's a representation of the lackluster consumerism of humanity;" he said, picking up a striped blue-and-green patterned hat. He placed it on his head, a layer of dust poofing up above him as he chuckled.
  "People make more and more and more without ever using the things they already have. Trends, stocks, minute after minute something always changes."
  73 looked down at the sweater in his grasp, rolling it between his fingers. Surely, someone somewhere would want this, so why would it have to rot here?
  Putting it down, something caught his eye.
  Beneath the out-of-season Halloween costumes and a packet of confetti eggs, half of which were smashed, a shiny, reflective cloth of rich dark purple lay. Reaching his paw into the mess, he managed to pull it out. Holding it up, he felt the fibers between his fingers, the basic shape of a robe with wonky stitching and a weird roll of gold fabric that made up the belt.
  "Did something catch Mr. why-does-this-garbage-entice-you's eye?" 62 asked, tossing a synthetically sun-bleached hat in with a few other items. "Tsk, tsk."
  "I'll admit, you're not always wrong about stuff like this. It's nice looking." 73 said, the hints of a smile appearing on his face as he looked over the poorly-made fabric.
  Dropping it back down, he shook his head.
  "Still, it's not a necessity. And it's not protocol."
  73 briefly opened his watch, checking the objective's coordinates, and his eyes brushed over the time.
  "Damn it!" 73 yelped, seeing as how long they'd been there. "62, we've gotta go, now!"
62 shoved the last of his bounty into his satchel and took off through the opened storage closet entrance, 73 in hot pursuit. The door slammed behind them as the room was coated in darkness.

Moments later, the door re-opened. 73 grabbed the deep purple cloth, shoved it in his uniform's pocket, turned towards the exit, and continued the chase towards the outside.

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The sounds of distant subways shook the pillars and foundation of the rickety, antique station. A double-sided stairwell made up the grand entrance to the sludgy, yet strangely serene former hub of humanity.
Row after row of abandoned shops, moldy posters, and benches lay across the walls of the formerly-esteemed station. Buildings build into the walls hosted signs for bathrooms, shoe shiners, and cafés. Right next to the stairwell lay a control room that connected all the intercoms, the center of a has-been world.
Leonardo helped his sensei down the stairs as the others looked around. The graffitied walls and dusty, abandoned train cars were the only thing within the concrete catacomb that had any sign of recent human use.
  Donatello held his Bo staff aloft, end out with the angle of a jouster, as he cleared a subway car. Within, long-forgotten old posters flaked from the walls. Rows of chairs stood by the sides like soldiers marching, and, in the front, Donatello could see the conductor's station, coated with dust.
  "Donnie, come look at this!" A voice from outside beckoned. Donatello poked his head out of the subway car to see Raph leaning just outside the control room building to the left of the terminal. He gestured with his hand for Donnie to follow, then ducked back in.
  The purple-masked turtle hopped, with some effort, out of the car. Coming around the corner, he saw Raphael and Michelangelo huddled around an old radio.
  "I saw it spark, meaning there's gotta be some electrical sourcing in this place. D'you think you can get it up and running?" Raph asked, his brow raised.
  He pondered the idea, thinking of the possibilities.
  "If we're being honest, this is probably at the very least twenty years old, I doubt we'll be able to get even the slightest noise from it, much less an actual radio connection."
  Donnie fiddled with the controls, popping the back panel off to see the wiring.
  "I've seen ones like these before, I'll shoot a shot."
  While he worked, April, Casey and Leo were getting the subway car set up. They managed to find a back room within the subway station that had contained a broom and a few chemicals, most of which were very expired.
  Armed with their tools, they went about, first making a space for splinter to rest. The old rat expressed his gratitude as Leonardo helped him to sit, leaving April and Casey a few cars behind them.
  "There's about five other cars, so we should be able to split the train between the seven of us." Casey stated as he swept. "I'm thinking, back to front, two turtles, two turtles, med bay, master splinter, April, and, your beloved conductor, me."
  "You sure you're not concussed too?" April asked as she wiped down a chair, the cracked, gray, pleather seat looking more and more like Rocksteady by the second.
  "Decently sure. How's your arm, by the way?"
  "Still hurts, but it's a lot better than it was. I think now that we've gotten the stress of moving out of the way, it'll heal a lot faster."
  "By the stress of moving, do you mean getting the sewer blown up?" Casey asked sarcastically.
  "I mean the movement, Casey. Going from point A to point B." April replied, spraying him with a window cleaner.
The creaking, shaking sound of the radio turning on shook the car they were in.
Mikey let out a whoop as the radio came on. The others began to make their way towards it, including Master Splinter, who was assisted out by Leonardo.
Donatello shifted the channels on the radio, the occasional voice popping through. He managed to settle it onto the ending of a song, a radio announcer's voice coming through.
"And that was Evanescence with My Immortal! Giving it on up for Amy Lee, it's your girl, and your favorite radio host, Ebony Dark'ness! Now, coming in for the next one, the hottest cover of the year, Halestorm, with their performance of Bad Romance!"
  The beginning guitar riffs began to play through the loudspeakers as Donatello managed to connect the coms to the radio.
  "Oh yeah!" Mikey exclaimed.
  Michelangelo jumped up on a stack of crates, dancing along as a voice played over the mic. Grasping a nunchuck as if it was a microphone, he danced his way to a pile of crates accumulated nearby.