Love, Rehab, and Mutant Turtles

5. Sewer Sirens

Nick had been shot enough times to know that if he still felt the pain, it wasn't as bad as it could be. Judging by the excruciating feeling in his calf where the crossbow bolt had pierced, things were dire, but not life threatening. The more pressing concern was the group of men and women gathered before him, pale, silvery eyes glowing in the moonlight. Even as he looked at them, their features shifted and changed. One minute, they would have sharp teeth, the next minute, back to normal. Their faces would go from old and wrinkled masks of pain to youthful beauty in a heartbeat. They were sirens, plain and simple; the same ilk that had plagued Odysseus in the Greek legend, and the focus of many mermaid sightings around the world.

In his experience, sirens were a cruel breed, preying on the opposite sex and dragging them to watery graves. It cast his own situation in stark relief. He cursed himself for not having more presence of mind.

Cass was standing in the middle of the group, whispering inaudibly to the others.

"Got something you want to share with the class?" Nick shifted, feeling rusty chains burning into his wrists. "Oh, come on, I'm not fucking Houdini. Is all this really necessary?" Strictly, it was necessary. Nick knew more than a hundred ways to break out of bondage, both professional and otherwise. All the treatises on the subject had one thing in common: without the assistance of substantial chemicals, humans can't break chains.

One of the sirens hissed and stepped forward an inch, her hair briefly shifting to become a ball of snakes.

"No one believes you're a hydra, sister." Nick coughed, and the rattle sent pain through his tortured body. "I don't feel like I'm turning to stone, and I'm pretty sure I decapitated the last Greek hydra in the nineties." Now that had been a fun adventure. Nick vaguely remembered a plate of moussaka and some ouzo that could have melted paint. Good times.

"Come now, Rusalka. If you frighten him, the meat will spoil." Cass stepped up and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. Her form stabilized to become that of a beautiful young woman once again.

"Would you mind just picking a form and sticking with it? I really hate shapeshifters." In reality, the constant changing of scenery was making him feel ill.

"Aw, is someone a little upset that the date didn't go the way he wanted?" This time it was a man speaking. As with most shapeshifting creatures, he wore no shirt, showing a body of lean muscle, glistening in what had to be sewer water.

"Does it make you feel powerful to conjure a body like that?" Nick fiddled with the chains around his wrists, trying not to feel inadequate in his own state of sweaty rehab body. Unfortunately, his captors were no amateurs. The hold was secure, and if there was a lock, he couldn't find it. He counted himself lucky that his legs were still free.

The muscled siren looked at Nick with hot fury. For a brief moment, the chiseled abs became a distended gut, sagging over the man's wrinkled waistline. "I can't believe this is the loudmouth that killed Sissy."

Sissy, sissy, sissy. The name didn't ring any bells. "You sure that was me?" Ordinarily, Nick would be first in line to take credit for any and all exploits attributed to him, but humbleness seemed more prudent.

Rusalka let out a piercing shriek that vibrated the walls and sent ripples through the water. "The impudence!"

Nick instinctively reached to clap his hands over his ears, but only succeeded in grinding them against the chains. "You know, you should really be careful with that. Aside from our eardrums in this enclosed space, there—"