Are You Sure I'm Not A Villain?

01

He was just on his way home from town when the attack happened.

The city subway smelled of smokers and pot, great for New York. Small talk from traveling friends echoed through the almost empty train car. But the boy couldn't hear it. Music blasted in his ears as he played with strings on his old, faded gray hoodie. His name was unknown by many people, and he liked it that way.

To the grocery store, the boy was known as the Cashier on Twelve.

He was a cashier as a part time job at the local supermarket. He was positioned at cash register twelve, the one in the far corner that no one saw and no one went to. That is, unless they were drunks or illegals. The boy normally let them get away with it, and then called the cops as soon as they were out the door. It was always nice seeing illegals glare at him as they were dragged to police cars.

To his classmates, he was the quiet kid.

He didn't have many friends. Why would he want them? They weren't necessary, after all. He dressed in black and gray because they were his comfort colors. There was nothing that could go wrong with black. He decorated his hands with rings, but his favorite one was a snake coiled around itself. It was given to him by his father before he left to go destroy the world. The boy loved music. Preferably rock, basically any loud music. He especially loved Living Dead by Ovtlier.

To strangers, he was a punk who was ruining the reputation of the city and the world.

The boy was, in one word, pansexual. This means that he didn't care what others identified as, he only loved for their soul or who they were as a person (not their genitals). That is, if he would ever find love. He hadn't had, as many cheesy love movies say, "found the one" yet.

To his parents, it didn't matter who he was.

He never had a great relationship with his family. His grandparents were abusive to each other and others. His immediate family, such as his mother, was constantly drunk. She didn't have a job but the only reason why they still had a house is because she knew how to "get around". That, and the boy's contribution of his weekly salary. His father had left before he was even born, never to be seen again.

To the librarian whom he helped every seventh period, he was Kai.

She was the only one who actually knew his name, or at least could remember it. And used it in every sentence that she spoke. It did become annoying after a while, but Kai didn't want to hurt the poor old woman's feelings. 

The lights flickered and the boy looked at his watch. It read 20:00. The boy liked to have his watch on military time. It was so much easier to figure out. Whatever the founding fathers were thinking when they created twelve hour time was crazy. 

The States were crazy in general.

The subway lights flickered again as the train pulled into the station. Using the handrails, the boy pulled herself to his feet and hefted his bag onto his back. Why did teachers assign so much homework?

The subway came to a shrieking stop and the doors opened. The boy headed outside into the dank subway station. Yellowed lights lit up the tiles and scared cockroaches skittered to the darkened corners. Probably to be eaten by a homeless.

The boy followed the rest of the midnight travelers up the stairs and into the brisk autumn night. Turning to the right, the boy crunched through piles of leaves as he walked to his mother's apartment. He stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

Music still played in his ears. Dark shadows danced in the alleyways as he passed light fixtures. The shadows had a remarkable resemblance to a gang that had been terrorizing the city. Unfazed, the boy walked right past. This may have upset the members of the gang little bit.

The men in black raced after the boy, who had dropped his backpack and gotten ready to fight. The boy wasn't the type to run away from a fight. He always stood his ground, no matter the consequences, no matter the odds. It might have been considered reckless, hell, even careless, but the boy didn't care what others thought about him. He greeted the feeling of fear rushing through his veins as adrenaline. 

The men in black surrounded him, two fighting him at a time. The soldiers kept coming, there were too many for the boy to fight. He backed up to a wall of a store front and tried to defend himself, but, with one kick with a steel-toed boot to the stomach, crumpled to the ground in pain. The Foot soldiers cornered him and began pelting his back, stomach, and sides with kicks and punches.

Finally, they stopped. Two of the foot soldiers lifted the boy under his arms and held him there, in front of a massive... thing. Blood dripped down from the boy's mouth, staining his hoodie. The shape in front of him was tall and orange and looked like an eye-patched tiger. The only thing that would fit this description is none other than Tigerclaw. A very original name, by the way.

"Perfect," he said, fingering his guns on either side of his belt. "We have heard so much about you, cub."

The boy said nothing but spat blood in the mutant's face.

"Feisty," Tigerclaw said, wiping the blood off his face. "I would kill you for that, but Master Shredder wants you in one piece, preferably alive. But he didn't say that I couldn't have a little bit of fun."

Once again, the boy said nothing. He knew who Shredder was, who he really was. Oroku Saki. Rumor has it that he actually has a son, but one could never trust the nasty rumors.

He was the one who started most of them anyway.

Kai picked up his backpack and slung it over one of his shoulders that wasn't injured in the tussle. The boy followed the foot soldiers. He placed his phone in his pocket and listened to music in the random car that they took him to.

It annoyed Tigerclaw that the boy seemed so unfazed by the situation. It was almost comical how devoid of emotion he was. He acted like this was a common occurrence, maybe it was.

When Tigerclaw, the boy, and a few foot soldiers arrived, it was 20:45. No, it wasn't the year. That was the time. 

The foot soldiers yanked the boy out of the car and dragged him to the lair. (That is, Shredder's lair, not the turtles'.) The boy went along with them willingly. The boy was strange, he seemed to know every turn in the lair, every hallway to get to Shredder's makeshift throne room. Not only did it confuse Tigerclaw and the others, but it made them angry. They were supposed to be terrifying and scary, the captive was supposed to be pleading for their lives.

Once in front of the door to the makeshift throne room, Tigerclaw turned to face the boy. He grabbed his shoulders and steered him in front of him as they walked through the door. The boy's black eye was starting to show and the blood on his face crusted. He was walking with a slight limp, but seemed to be powering through.

Shredder was sitting in his immaculate throne with his helmet gleaming in the moonlight. When he saw Tigerclaw leading the boy, his eyes widened. He stood up and his knives glinted.

"I told you to keep the boy in one piece," he thundered.

Tigerclaw immediately stopped in his tracks. He released the boy and bowed in reverence to Shredder. "I apologize, Master."

"Saying sorry isn't going to fix what you have done to my son's face," Shredder said.

"Your... son?" Tigerclaw asked, startled.

"Yes," Shredder siad with a dismissive wave. "Leave us."

Tigerclaw left the throne room. The boy and Shredder were now alone.

"Where had you gone, my child?" Shredder asked.

"Same place I've always been, father," the boy responded. "Right where you left me."

"Now, my child, that is not the correct way to address your father."

"I apologize, master," the boy said, bowing obnoxiously low as if to prove a point. "It is good to see you. What has it been, fifteen years?"

"It has been too long," Shredder agreed. 

"What do you want with me?" the boy said. "Do you want to kill me in honor of the rumors that have been spreading?"

"Not at all," Shredder said. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I want you to join me and together take down New York and the turtles once and for all."