TMNT: Starlit Sin, And Evan's Other TMNT Stuff

Something in the Alley

[a/n: please picture Casey as short and buff! Casey is short as hell and could throw a table because that's the funniest kind of character. Also, Casey uses any pronouns except the ones of whoever they're interacting with because sometimes. When there's, say, four he/hims in a room, you really don't need another one for your own sanity XD]

Cassette Tape "Casey" Jones set the last couple books on the reshelving cart, humming. It was time for their lunch break, which was good. She liked their job, quite a lot, but dealing with patrons was not a radical moment on far too many occasions.

They stretched, stepping out of the building for a quick smoke. Was weed technically illegal? Casey wasn't sure. Did anyone give a fuck? Absolutely not! It was New York City, baby!

He lit the blunt, lazily looking around the alley. Nothing had changed, it still has the dumpster, the rats skittering about, the giant, dark blue turtle, pressed against the alley wall, panting and snarling-

Oh. Well. That was abnormal. There were usually fewer rats. Casey lowered the blunt, stepping towards the turtle. The rats crowding around it ran off at the presence of something so large- a terrifying height of 5'2"! The turtle looked up at them, eyes wide in fear. It hissed at him, trying to be menacing.

The turtle was bleeding, he noticed. Its left arm seemed to have been chewed off. The stump was caked in half dried blood, and it wasn't bleeding too heavily, so it was probably at least a few hours old. And it's right arm wasn't there. No scarring, no sign of injury, nothing. Just dark blue skin over a shoulder hump.

Casey wasn't stupid. They knew handling wild animals, especially hurt ones, especially big ones, was dangerous.

He sighed, pulling on the hockey gloves he always kept with him. The turtle needed help, and Casey wasn't about to ignore it.

The turtle snapped at him, an angry sound coming from deep in its throat as Casey grabbed its side. He made sure not to lift the turtle by the carapace, fitting his hands around its plastron. The turtle continued hissing and snarling.

They shifted their grip on the turtle, slightly, getting a better hold on it. "Aaalrighty, there we go!" They crooned instinctively as the turtle continued making aggressive sounds at him.

Well. This was suddenly quite the predicament. Casey couldn't take it inside, but he couldn't leave it to the rats and disease.

He had an hour break. He'd spent five, ten minutes maybe, handling the turtle. His apartment was a fifteen minute drive away.

She ran to her car, which was very close by, thankfully. He stuck the turtle in shotgun, noting the oddly bipedal form of its legs. They sat it up, buckling it in quickly so it couldn't bite at him. "It's for your own good, I promise I'm helping you." He said softly, not making direct eye contact. Hopefully that made her seem less threatening, he knew that worked for cats.

It hissed, still, but stopped trying to bite them. Or claw him with its hind legs.

"Thank you, Turt." They smiled softly.

They drove quickly, cutting the drive from 15 to 10 minutes. The turtle had its eyes squeezed shut, hissing quietly during the drive. Poor thing was probably hellishly overstimulated. Casey got that; a lotta stuff about the city that never sleeps was a sensory nightmare for them.

In the parking lot, Casey flung their jacket over the turtle, both to keep it from maiming him with its hind legs and teeth (sharp teeth. Very sharp teeth Casey'd noticed on the drive over.) and to disguise it, and scooped it into his arms. Casey was thankful for the hockey experience, rushing through the lobby with a turtle weighing about the same as a ten year old kid.