Chapter Text
Leo looked up from his phone subtly, peering at the simple apartment building. He checked the address again. He was in the right place, Donatello Hamato. He’d been surprisingly difficult to track down, but Leo hadn’t survived into his fifth year for nothing. He knew what he was doing, how to track down the other members of the Race, and more importantly; how to kill them.
“You’re going to kill this one?” Izkah asked from his place next to him, invisible to the people walking the streets. He glanced at his nails casually, though it seemed redundant considering he was wearing armour. “He’s Thirus’s chosen player, he’s going to be smart. Crafty. You’d better hope he didn’t get a book, or he’ll be expecting you.” Leo snorted, blowing a bubble from his gum just to watch the way it made cream-coloured wings twitch slightly.
“I’m not about to team up with him, you saw how that went last time, so yeah, I’m killing him.” Leo shrugged, tugging his leather jacket tighter around him, and pulled his butterfly knife out of his pocket. It was pretty, a shimmery blue pattern that appeared to move. Like water. He flipped it around in his hands for a moment, adjusting the way his odachi was sheathed on his hip. He was armed to the teeth, of course, even though people couldn’t see it through the little illusion gift he’d bargained for. “So, Izzy, did your buddy happen to send him with a book?” He peered curiously at the being, the way his face was bathed in shadows by a white hood, save for where glowing blue eyes peered out at him, pupils slit.
“You know I cannot reveal that information, Leonardo,” Izkah twirled his staff around a few times, then lightly tapped the non-bladed end against the asphalt. Leo watched a faint smirk pull at greyed skin, “but I can tell you Thirus doesn’t tend to take an active role with his participants. He quite likes challenging them, seeing what they’re made of. He likes to watch things play out.”
Leo smirked back, “got it, no book. He has no idea we’re coming then. That makes this easy. No one can see me, so I just chill out here until that store across the street closes in a couple of hours, sneak in, slit his throat, get out. Shouldn’t be too hard, and if I have to resort to fighting… well, I’m not too worried.” Leo scanned him with his eyes, biting his lip, “then I go back to flirting with you, who needs deals? Who knows what kinda power getting fucked by you gives me.”
Izkah didn’t smile, but Leo saw his lips twitch, “you are quite determined. I can’t lay with a mortal.”
Leo grinned, “it’s not a rule in the book.” He blew another bubble, then leaned back to look very unsubtly at his ass. Sure, it was mostly covered by that gold armour, but it was more the meaning behind the look.
Izkah cuffed him over the head with a wing. It burned like wildfire, his every rare touch was burning hot, similar to Leo now that he’d made his deal. He burned so much warmer than a regular human, like a furnace. Unfortunately, that meant that for the most part he had to avoid touching people, even just on the street in passing. It was clear his body temperature was unnatural, but he couldn’t change it. Well, he could make it hotter, but the whole reason he was suppressing it was that unhindered he burned hot, like literal molten lava. Kind of a hassle, but the power was worth it.
Leo sighed, “maybe I should go grab some ramen or something while I wait, not like I’ve got anything better to do.”
Izkah gestured to the open ramen shop they were waiting to be closed.
Leo made a thoughtful noise, “huh, so that’s why I’ve been craving it for the last few hours… s’a damn thing my mark had to live right across the street from it. Who knows, maybe he’ll come in and get dinner, at least I know what he looks like.” Leo got off his bike, making himself visible, and headed into the ramen shop, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets. Izkah trailed behind him, politely tucking in his wings, even though they just clipped through everything.
He had some time to kill, why not eat?
Donnie, blissfully unaware of his new fate, was getting ready for an interview. This was the opportunity of a lifetime, after all. He couldn’t let it go to waste.
Witness protection, huh? Donnie twirled a pen in his hand and gave the screen a haughty smirk. So much for that. Once he got this job, he’d find out exactly where that murderer was, and he’d get his revenge. Revenge? Justice. Totally just justice. He didn’t have the guts to outright kill the guy, he didn’t think, unless it was for a scientific purpose, in which case he’d respectfully volunteer the guy’s body for a couple of experiments to further his (er… humanity’s) knowledge.
Screens of all shapes and sizes lined his room, bright and blinding, filled with lines of code, files, games. Donnie twirled around on his chair every few seconds, dancing between all of them, typing at the speed of light. He was almost ready. The meeting was only in a few hours.
Within a few hours, he’d be a Purple Dragon.
A far cry from his dream of being a doctor, but… oh well. That was only a temporary dream, a sidestep in his wider life plan. So what if research had taken up most of his life so far? He was just getting started with his pursuit of knowledge.
“Donatello,” a familiar voice chimed from his docking station across the room. Donnie whirled around to face him.
The catalyst to his dream. His best invention yet, capable of more than he could ever imagine.
Shelldon held up a mirror on one of his discs, and Donnie winced. Dark circles under his eyes, hair a greasy mess… and, of course, a dozen packs of instant noodles beside his desk.
“It has been fifty-three hours, twenty-two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds since you last ate.”
...Said catalyst to his dream was also a stickler about getting Donnie to “take care of himself.” When there were clearly more important things to do. Where did he even learn that?
Donnie scoffed and turned back to face one of his screens. “I don’t care, Shelldon. I just have a few more lines of code to perfect, then I’ll go get some more—”
“The high sodium content of those packets is not ideal for your overall health,” Shelldon soared over to hover over his shoulder, “I insist you go buy some real food. May I suggest a restaurant of a similar calibre, but much better for your wellbeing?”
An advertisement for the ramen restaurant across the street flashed on the screen Donnie was working on. He hissed and covered his eyes.
“I can’t! I have to keep working!”
“You will not be able to work without sustenance. Besides,” Shelldon twirled around in front of him, “I believe I am up to standard. I should be a perfect presentation.”
Donnie ran a hand down his face, “Fine. How far is it?”
“Walking, it is—”
“I’m not walking—”
“Less than one minute from the building.”
Donnie blinked and glanced out his window. Sure enough, there was a ramen restaurant right across the street, with inviting signs and drones zooming in and out, ready to serve customers. He probably couldn’t afford to order drone delivery, but…
“Have you never looked out of the window, sir?”
Donnie rolled his eyes and pulled on his hoodie from a nearby desk, “Fine. How much money have I got?”
“...Fifteen dollars and twenty cents.”
Donnie clicked his tongue, “That’ll be enough for one bowl, right?”
“Affirmative. I have already selected a meal that is sure to be appetizing.”
He headed out of his room and called to his aunt, then strode out, scanning his wrist to lock the door behind him. The city’s lights always comforted him. They reminded him of his room, of late nights of coding and gaming and hacking into random systems across the world, all from his tiny little bubble. Sure, he’d never experienced the real world, but who cares when he could access it all with a simple internet connection?
He walked across the street, ducking and weaving between cars and hoverbikes, and shuffled into the shop, pulling his hood up.
Too many people. Way too many people.
“Detecting increased heart rate and-”
Donnie whirled around and pulled Shelldon to his chest, covering his speakers. “Not in public!” he hissed, dashing over to take a seat. So many people were watching him, probably making fun of him, probably thought he was stupid…
He sat down, his leg shaking, and Shelldon settled down beside him. “You weren’t supposed to come!" Donnie whispered, “What if you break?”
Shelldon shook his head. “I won’t. I’m equipped with-”
“I know what you’re equipped with,” Donnie hushed him again and typed a quick order into the screen in front of him, then took a risk and surveyed the room.
He made eye contact almost immediately and ducked his head away. Why was that guy just… staring at him? He had bright blue eyes, pretty, near-flawless skin, markings that seemed unnatural…
Oh, Donnie wanted one.
“Hey, Shelldon?” He murmured, subtly gesturing to Leo, “Is that an android? What model?”
Shelldon scanned Leo, then beeped. “Negative. He is human.”
Donnie snatched up his ramen when it was delivered and hid his face behind the menu so that he could eat in peace. How could that person be human? His beauty was almost ethereal. He’d never seen someone so — wait.
He glanced at the time.
“Shit!” He shovelled noodles into his mouth as quickly as he could, grabbed Shelldon, and hastily scanned his wrist to pay. “We’re gonna be late!”
He dashed out the door and down the street, heading towards the city’s edge where all of the warehouses lay. He only had an hour left, and hadn’t exercised in years, but he didn’t have enough to buy a ride.
He could only hope the Dragons were patient.
His mark was a mess.
It was sort of endearing, honestly, when their eyes met from across the room and Leo felt the watery slide of why is he staring at me? Everyone is staring at me brushing against his mind. He could practically taste the anxiety from across the room, bitter like lemons and sharply sour-sweet like spoiled fruit. He ordered, ate his meal quickly, all the while talking to a drone, then paid and darted out the door.
Leo waited a few minutes, taking the last few bites of his food, then got up to follow. He paid easily, not even glancing down at the price of his meal. Damn, did it feel good not to worry about his every purchase being monitored and judged. He watched him run with a raised eyebrow. He didn’t even need to bring his bike. Did that mean he was just going to follow on foot?
Absolutely not.
He got on his bike, kicking it off the ground with a wave of blue light. He tapped open the access panel, waiting for it to register his fingerprints and heartbeat, then boredly tapped in his passcode. Leo was good with vehicles, but especially his hoverbike. He’d spent hours modifying her, perfecting her. After all, Leo was a hunter, and sometimes—like now—his prey was smart. He still had to be wary, whether he assumed the kid had a book or not. He’d been blindsided before, after all.
He pressed her into gear and started forward at a casual speed, flipping the cloak into place with a casual wave of his hand. He flickered, then vanished from view, leaving him free to do as he pleased. “Hey, Izkah?” He pulled up close to Donnie, slowing down, and watched him for a moment. “He’s just a kid, doesn’t that really make the game unfair?”
“You were seventeen when you started, how is that much different?”
Leo shrugged, “that’s my point, this game is dangerous, so why choose kids? I mean, the whole point is to kill each other.”
Izkah fluttered his wings, and peered at him curiously, “you’ve survived into your fifth year and you have the highest total kill count. If you’re arguing it is unfair due to your age, you aren’t making a very good point.”
Leo hummed, turning on his scanners so he could keep track of Donnie in case he went into a building. “Fair enough. Twenty-two with the highest kill count in the game.” he pulled out his odachi, whirling it around casually. “So why choose me? You said I was your youngest player.”
Izkah tilted his head at him, shrugging from where he flew along the hoverbike. Not that they were going very fast, they were tailing a guy who was running and clearly hadn’t done much of it. “Based on your results, do you think I made the wrong decision having you as my champion?”
Leo shrugged, “no, I guess not. You’re deflecting though.” He pulled out a flask and took a swig of whiskey. He only needed one hand, they were practically crawling along. It would be so easy for Leo to just run him down, kill him quick and easy, but Leo knew better than to kill in public. He wasn’t stupid, he’d survived into his fifth year of the damn Race, he knew what he was doing. Killing in public only attracted the attention of other players, specifically those who knew what they were doing with technology. That was how Leo had found out about Donnie’s little meeting tonight, after all.
It was also how he knew the Purple Dragons were in their first year of the game.
He had a book, after all, it just took knowing their names. That wasn’t hard with his resources and abilities. They were using their services as a lure, reaching out to other players once they knew what they could offer them to get them to show up. It was smart, but it was also painfully obvious to someone who knew what they were looking for. He’d spotted it within the first two weeks, then, he’d watched. They were threats, big ones, and he needed to take them out before they got out of hand. They’d never catch him, after all, but if they figured out who he was, learned about his little brother… he couldn’t risk it, no matter how unlikely. He wouldn’t put Raph and Mikey in danger, they knew nothing about his little escapades in the game. Informing others was against the rules, they thought he was just off travelling the world, only visiting occasionally.
He would kill them before that ever happened. He would take them and Donnie out, that eliminated his biggest threats.
Although… Donnie was cute.
“Think I could seduce him even after killing in front of him?” He asked Izkah jokingly, taking another swig of whiskey.
Izkah shot him a look that he knew was filled with amusement, even if he couldn’t see more than his eyes without straining his vision.
“I’m kidding, he’s sixteen. Although, I wouldn’t be this eager for someone if you would just fuck me.” He winked at the God. “One night stands are kinda out now that I feel like a fucking furnace attached to a very sexy pair of legs.”
Izkah laughed, “use your powers, Leonardo, I’m sure they won’t complain about your body heat then.”
Leo pouted, “that’s boring, takes all the fun out of it. I don’t wanna just use my powers, the whole point is the other person wanting it, not being compelled by my abilities. I only use those for information, you know that.”
“Indeed, we’ve had this conversation dozens of times.”
Leo turned back to Donnie, stuffing his flask in his pocket as they approached the warehouse the meeting was set for. He pulled up his scanner so he could see into the building, turning on the heat signatures. He could see the purple dragons standing around waiting, and Donnie as he entered. “What do you say? Do I let them kill him, or should I bring up my body count higher?”
“You already know my answer to that.”
Donnie didn’t even realize he was being followed. His senses were usually perfected (or at least, he told himself they were), and Shelldon would have alerted him by now if he were actually being trailed. So why was he so anxious? Sure, these people were renowned hackers, could probably kill him and bury it under the rug with one finger's stroke on a keyboard, but... he had to trust them. Only they could help him, after all.
He had too much to focus on.
All of the things that could go wrong shot through his head. What if Shelldon’s programming failed? What if he wasn’t good enough for them? What if he didn’t add enough features? What if his hoodie was the wrong shade of purple? What if —
“Anti-anxiety programming, engaged.”
Shelldon slapped the side of his head with one of his discs.
Donnie yelped and reached up to grab him, “Stop it! Not right now!”
He had to admit, though, that it worked. Instead of focusing on his worries (and his shit stamina), he, instead, turned his attention to his surroundings, the comforting city lights, warm and blinding, shielding millions of buildings and even more millions of people behind a multi-coloured, artificial aurora. Maglev cars sped by on the roads, their movements precise and perfect, androids and drones advertised the latest trends and brands, political campaign ads sprawled over with graffiti.
To some, it’d probably seem like a hellscape. To Donnie, the fewer real human eyes on him, the better. He didn’t mind a camera or a thousand if it meant not having to make eye contact.
Within the hour, he knew he’d reached the city’s outskirts. Old gasoline cars littered abandoned roads, older models of androids rusted and leaned against buildings in mottled parts, grasses and weeds fought their way through century-old cracks in sidewalks.
Now, this was a place he hated. In comparison to the city, it was dark and dusty and had a distinct trashy smell in the air. Not like the rest of the city didn’t, it was just less noticeable when covered up with smells of food and perfume and various other synthetics.
He gulped and hugged himself as he walked, quietly ordering Shelldon to survey the area for any potential attackers, which included… everyone in the vicinity, honestly.
He could feel thousands of eyes on him. He knew the city’s poorest lived in this district, and as much as it killed him to succumb to classism, he knew they’d be desperate to get their hands on his ID chip, or any pieces of his tech.
It didn’t take him long to find the warehouse. He had to solve a riddle to find out the exact location, but considering it just involved translating a few ciphers, it’d only taken him a few minutes to find. He’d followed all the safety precautions, avoided cops, avoided the local security footage.
Deep breaths. In, and out.
Time to take the first step.
It didn’t take him long to pick the rusted lock, and soon enough, he was striding in with all the false confidence of a mouse walking into a lion’s den to find scraps.
And there they were — the most powerful hackers in the nation. In the world, maybe.
Their leader was leaning against a beam, surrounded by shattered scraps of metal that littered the entire warehouse floor. She was a short girl, about Donnie’s age, with lilac hair to her waist perfectly tucked beneath a beret. She had striking cyan lipstick, perfect winged eyeliner, and, of course, the gorgeous signature purple satin jacket. Donnie had been looking forward to that part of the job description the most, honestly.
He paid less mind to her other two cohorts. The leader was the only one he had to address.
The girl didn’t even look up from her nails. “Othello von Ryan! How nice to see you. Or, Donatello Hamato?” she scoffed, “Horrendous attempt to hide your identity, I’d say.”
Donnie’s heart sank. He’d given her a pseudonym, but of course she’d found out who he was. It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. His encryption wasn’t as good as hers, after all, as much as he thought it’d be.
“Yes!” Donnie cleared his throat and approached, tiptoeing around the rubble, “I’ve brought what you asked for. Right here,” he gestured grandly to Shelldon, who did a twirl and a mock bow. “My latest and greatest invention, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N, a fully autonomous AI drone with near human-like emotional capabilities, as well as-”
“That won’t be necessary.” Their leader straightened up and approached, flicked her hand forward so that the others would follow, and Donnie’s unease only grew. “We have a very special job for you, no tech required.”
Donnie took a step back. “Oh! Well, I’m only really good with tech. Is it a sort of initiation ritual, or…?”
She snickered. “Sure, sweetheart. Something like that. A welcome gift to the Race.”
Shelldon perked up slightly. “There’s a race? A drone race?”
...Donnie had a feeling that was not on today’s agenda.
The leader snapped her fingers. In an instant, the two boys who accompanied her snatched him up into their arms and covered his mouth. Even if he tried to scream, he wouldn’t be heard.
Shelldon, loyal as he was programmed to be, tried to engage his defence mechanisms, but it only took the girl a second to tackle him and attach a strange device to a part of his body. He short-circuited and collapsed to the ground, his glowing eyes dimming.
He was fucked.
Why had he trusted them?
“Day one, and I’ve already got my first kill. Your God didn’t pick the brightest, did they? This is hysterical.” She giggled, a shrill noise that made Donnie want to scream. He could already feel the world slipping away. This couldn’t be real. He had to be dreaming. Were they going to kill him? What had he done?!
He didn’t even have time to ask.
“In Yava’s name!” Her voice was sweet, sticky, like a mesh of caramel and tar.
And with a blast of pain in the side of his head, the world went dark.
Leo watched the group gather around the boy boredly, twirling his butterfly knife absentmindedly. They were illegal, sure, but he really couldn’t care less. It’s not like they were hard to get, especially since he was all over the world constantly.
Honestly, the messy swirl of red and orange colours painting the grey of his heat signature scanner was… not doing it for him. He blamed it on the ADHD, but he needed more stimulation than that, even on a hunt. He took a swig of whiskey, stuffed his knife back in the pockets of his leather jacket, then adjusted the camera system.
The group flitted to life, like he was actually in the room with them, and their voices flooded his system.
If he’d actually had any doubt Donnie didn’t have a book, it was erased right then and there. He clearly had no clue what the hell was going on. He sighed, glancing over at Izkah, who was leaned against his bike casually, fiddling with a dagger. Leo felt a flash of amusement, he’d chosen the correct champion, clearly. “Poor kid,” he mused, “won’t even know why he’s being killed… at least I’m gonna do it quick, just get it over with. He doesn’t deserve to suffer.”
Izkah shrugged, “her Goddess is bloodthirsty, I suppose she’d like that. No wonder she was chosen.
"In Yava’s name!”
Leo rolled his eyes, “oh, for fuck’s sake. You can tell she’s new to this, y’all fuckers don’t need any more of an ego boost. Your head’s bigger than your wings.” Leo brought the flask back to his lips, leaning back boredly. He drew his odachi, twirling it around boredly.
Izkah raised an eyebrow, Leo didn’t need to see him to know that.
Said wing smacked him upside the head, and Leo choked on his whiskey, coughing. “Asshole,” he mumbled, shooting the God a glare. He looked back at the monitors, where they were tying the boy to a chair, pulling out an assortment of weapons. He felt a rush of anger swell within him.
Donnie was just a kid, a scared kid who had no idea what the hell was happening, and they were going to torture him? It was fucking sick. Leo had only ever once tortured one of his victims, and by God, he had deserved it. He had deserved every second.
But innocent players? Kids? No. He’d never even tortured the older players, the ones double his age, or the ones that had hurt him. Not even the ones that had tried to torture him first. He wasn’t a monster, he just wanted to survive. He was doing what he had to, nothing more, nothing less. He sighed, kicking his bike into gear, trying to judge the speed he’d need to break through the door.
“Izkah, I’m not about to let them torture that kid, wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Leonardo, not that you need it.”
It was only minutes later that Donnie was jostled awake, the three figures looming over him like doctors over a patient. He certainly felt like he was in surgery, as his vision came into focus, he saw dozens of tools of all kinds — blades, saws, chisels, needles — had he gotten into an accident?
And then, he remembered, and saw the warehouse outstretching for hundreds of feet, shadows engulfing most of it, only a single yellow fluorescent light highlighting the four people in a sickening tone.
Screaming and thrashing against the restraints was no use. They must’ve been something like steel, no room for mobility, no way he could even attempt to cut himself out of the trap. His mouth was covered with tape.
One of the boys was preparing something on some kind of long stick with a dragon symbol on the end --
A branding iron.
Donnie tried to kick his legs, flail his arms, anything, but he was stuck.
He was dead. He’d never accomplished anything of value, never even become a doctor, let alone an engineer like he’d always dreamed. Never would he be on TV, a rising star in the scientific community, a prodigy who received prizes and love from across national lines. His death would be labelled a tragic case of a poor kid who strayed too far into the Bronx with no way to defend himself. The Dragons would never get caught. His family’s murderer would never get caught.
Why are you so upset? His little inner voice reminded him, Isn’t this what you wanted?
“He’s awake, chief.” One of the guys, a big burly blonde with dark skin, smirked and nudged their leader, who rolled her eyes.
“This is my kill, boys. Have all the fun you want with him before that happens.” She tossed a twisted knife around in her hand, like it was only a pencil, and pointed it at Donnie’s chest. “I’ll have his heart on a platter. Oh, I could keep it as a trophy! And, obviously, we can sell the rest.”
“He’s cute, too,” The other boy piped up, smacking the heated iron on the chair, only an inch away from Donnie’s wrist. Donnie cried out and looked up at the three of them with teary-eyed terror. It was all he could muster.
“Shut up, Jase,” Their leader put a hand on her hip, “like I said. Anything you want, he’s yours. Just don’t kill him yet.”
Donnie squeezed his eyes shut. He was just at the doctor’s office, getting a shot.
It’d all be over soon.
Leo had always been one for dramatic entrances.
It was sort of his thing, he was flashy, he had his fun. After all, there was nothing better for him to do. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the lack of helmet. It wasn’t like he could actually die right now. He breathed slowly, trying to calm the automatic racing of his heart, the slight tremble in his fingertips from the adrenaline that coursed through him.
He just needed to fight through it, to work through the way it slowed his body down and made him shaky.
In.
Leo let his illusion fade and melt away like water. The paler tone of his vitiligo faded to a vibrant red, pupils slit, blue eyes gained a soft, luminescent glow that lit up the darkness around him.
He pulled his leather jacket tighter.
Out.
Leo slammed his foot on the gas, ducking his head as he slammed right through the worn, thin steel with a loud, booming crash that left his ears ringing.
Ah, warehouses, that brought him back. How fitting.
All eyes snapped to him, but it didn’t matter who saw his face.
After all, none of them would be leaving the building alive.
He swerved into a drifting curve, hitting the brake, then leapt off his bike before it even stopped.
He landed in a crouch, the joints in his knees and ankles hissing their protest as he stared up at the group with narrowed eyes. He felt positively predatory, like a wolf that had just been thrown into a cage with a bunch of sheep.
He yanked his odachi from the sheathe, and stood, straightening up until he towered over everyone. Leo strode forward casually, heeled combat boots clicking against the stone of the warehouse floor.
He twirled the long, thin blade, listening to the slight whistle as it cut through the air like nothing. Light from the single lightbulb gleamed off of it, reflecting, and things lit up a little more.
Leo stopped in front of them, the room falling silent without his footsteps. He smirked lazily, every inch of his body conveying smugness. “First year, kiddos?” He let out a soft, dark chuckle, “why don’t I show you how the veterans play?”
One of the boys recovered enough to pick up a blade from the table and charge him. He was fast, but not fast enough.
Leo slid to the side easily, practically a blur of movement as he slammed the end of his odachi into his back, then swung around.
The blade slid right through him, sending the two pieces slumping to the floor with a loud scream and a spurt of blood that left him covered in a mess of sticky warmth. Leo grinned wider, his veins were practically singing, his head rushing, heart pounding… he licked the blood from his lips, letting the taste of metal fill his mouth.
It was like ambrosia to him.
He ducked, avoiding the hammer the other guy swung at his head.
He skimmed under his arm and straightened up, turning to slide the blade right through his spine. He slammed his foot into the back of his knees, watching him crumple to the floor, then pulled his odachi out.
The boy let out a choked, burbling cough, then slumped over.
He turned to the girl, the last one standing. Kendra Mason.
“Torture, really?” He asked, borderline incredulous, “you didn’t really think this through, did you? "Vengeance is not the same as justice, choose wisely.” What were you gonna do if he survived? Hope he didn’t figure out what kind of hellhole he got thrown into?” Leo laughed, glancing down at his bloodied odachi.
“Mercy is not your friend,” she said coldly.
Leo curled his lip, disgusted. No longer was there a single shred of hesitation about murdering her and her gang, he knew they would not be victims he regretted. “He’s just a fucking kid.”
Then, she laughed. Fucking laughed.
He couldn’t put it off any longer. He moved without warning, twisting in a neat arc, and shoved his odachi right through her.
He watched her body drop to the floor without an ounce of remorse, not even a change of expression.
Leo didn’t even bother wiping the blood from his face as he turned, and stepped up to Donnie.
He tilted his chin up with his bloodied odachi, careful not to cut him with the swell of the blade. He scanned his face, dark skin, messy brown hair, square purple glasses… He was just a kid, he barely even looked sixteen, but… maybe that was just the fear-filling dark brown eyes.
Leo sighed, and tried to steel himself.
Donnie had his eyes closed up until the point when his saviour burst in. He recognized him instantly — after all, he hardly ever forgot a face that he noticed — it was the beautiful man from the restaurant.
Maybe he knew the Purple Dragons? Understood their plan?
What kind of “game” were they talking about? Racking up kills like real life was a shooter?
His mind filled with a flurry of thoughts, leaving him a frozen, panicked mess of shock and tears. Donnie was paralyzed, his eyes ever-so-slightly trailing Leo as he cut through his attackers like a live chef at a Korean barbecue. He hadn’t even fathomed that humans were that fragile to a sword’s blade.
And then, that blade was pointed right at his neck.
He cried out in alarm and tried to angle his head back, running on pure instinct as his mind tried to both observe Leo’s actions and observe… well… Leo himself. Bronze skin, blood coated, dots of red mingling with a face full of freckles. And, of course, red stripes over his eyes, auburn hair flowing into a high ponytail.
Bright blue eyes that made his breath hitch when they met his own.
“Are you going to kill me?” The words died out in a whimper, “What’s going on?”
Leo stared at him for a long moment, and silence stretched through the warehouse.
His terror was nothing like his anxiety, it wasn’t a bittersweet slide against his senses, mixed with a flurried jumble of thoughts that he didn’t even bother to pick through. It was cold, and it tasted like pins and needles, sharp in his mouth. His thoughts still flitted by at rapid speed, but they were different now, horrified.
Could he really look a child in the eyes, feel his fear, then kill him?
No... no, he couldn’t. Not when the soft curve to his jaw reminded him of Mikey, or something about his eyes reminded him of Raph. Not when Leo could hear his heart pounding, see the tears glistening in his eyes.
“Sorry kid,” Leo said, and his voice came out oddly soft. “You’ve gotten yourself stuck in a game, and the only way out is death. You’re going to be put in danger, forced to kill others. You have no choice now that your name’s been registered in the book. Do you want to live with that? I can end you quick now, at least then you’ll know you won’t suffer.”
Donnie couldn't compute a word Leo had said.
Well, he could, but he didn't want to.
This had to be some kind of dream. He'd grown up on nightmares, he should be used to this by now, but it just felt so real. For some reason, his logical mind was inclined to believe that the crimson staining the ground, the broken iron, the blade that threatened his life... all of it was reality. Not virtual, or a fantastical creation his mind created to torture him with.
Donnie's tongue was dry when he spoke, and fear lingered in his tone. "What kind of sick game is this? Why wasn't I told? This has to be illegal. Wait- no, don't kill me." he fidgeted against his restraints, "Can you tell me what I'm even supposed to do?"
Leo pulled the blade away from his neck, tossing it casually to rest on his shoulder. He scanned him with his eyes, then looked over at Izkah with a raised eyebrow. He wondered how the hell this kid was meant to have survived. Maybe that was why he’d been thrown in during the last year. “Yeah, it’s illegal. You weren’t lucky enough to get a book like they were. You have to kill the other contestants, last two standing win, everyone else... well they’re already dead. If they aren’t dead by that point then everyone dies, no winners. All the rules and contestants are in the book, but only so many people can have one. Your God thought you would survive without a book, so you weren’t given one. I know the feeling.”
Leo glared over at Izkah playfully, wiping the blood from his odachi on his jeans, then sheathed it. He heated up his body temperature until all the water in the blood evaporated, leaving it dried on his skin and clothes. Better than walking around soaked.
As usual, when he was curious, Donnie's fear dropped almost entirely as he opted to talk a million miles a minute instead.
This guy wasn't going to kill him, and he seemed to be surveying the room for any other attackers. He had so many questions, and the dam between his voice and his thoughts was about to burst.
And burst, it did.
"My what? What God? I don't believe in any Gods. At all. Whatsoever. What's this thing about a book? How the hell did you do that thing you just did? How is there steam on your skin? Are you biologically enhanced? That is also illegal, unless you're some kind of government project. Is this a government project? Is 'God' a pseudonym for some type of official?"
Donnie cleared his throat, "Will you be, erm, staying with me while we fight in this 'game?' Please tell me death is also a metaphor for... something else. Please."
Leo raised an eyebrow, then shot a pleading look over at Izkah.
“You’re the one who decided to spare him.” The God said, amused, crossing his arms over his chest. Leo was not about to admit he had a point.
He pulled out his flask and took a big gulp. He needed it.
“No governments, not enhanced by technology, just a literal God. They run the Race. Death is not a metaphor, everyone is going to be hunting you down to kill you, and I work alone.”
Leo had been working alone for a long time, since his second year. Considering this was the fifth, he’d spent the majority of the time alone. He glanced back over at Izkah, “you wanna reveal yourself? Or tell his God to reveal himself? I mean seriously, what idiot thought he would survive without a book?” He threw his arms up in the air.
Izkah snorted, but approached quietly, “calm yourself, Leonardo.” He pulled his hood tighter around himself, then, presumably, made himself visible to Donnie as well.
Donnie screamed and leaned back in his chair as far as he could, but his eyes were filled more with wonder and curiosity than fear. This was actually… amazing. Like a real-life video game scenario, like he was a chosen one from a fantasy novel, or, rather, a cryptic dystopia of some sort. Usually, these kinds of games had arenas or worlds vastly different from his own, but here? In New York?
God...s, this entire prospect was insanity. But he had to admit, he loved the idea of feeling important, of a real God noticing him.
He had to play this cool. He was a star now, his life was practically fiction, and, well, as long as he thought of it like that, he was saved from a lot of worry.
He stared up at Izkah in awe, taking in his powerful aura, and craned his body forward as best he could to get a better look at him. "You're a real God? So Christianity isn't real? I don't believe I've ever heard of a god called Izkah in any mythology... does anyone even know you exist? How long has this game been going on for? Can you please tell me the details of this book? Or let me read it? Please don't just abandon me. It's wet and musty in here."
Izkah snorted, “he reminds me of Thirus, no wonder he chose him.” Then, the God turned to Leo. “Oh, yes, Leonardo, are you going to let him read it?” His tone was impossibly smug, and it drew a glare.
“Asshat,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Fine, he crossed around the chair and sliced easily through the bonds keeping Donnie tied to the chair with his odachi. He sighed and pulled a little box out of his pocket, tapping a button so it turned into a black helmet. Then, he stuffed it on Donnie’s head. “Come on, kid, you can crash on my couch so you don’t like, die before I explain what the fuck’s going on.” So he had a soft spot, whatever.
He strode past Izkah, ignoring his knowing attitude, and swung his legs over his bike, getting settled. He took another swig of whiskey, “Hold onto me, don’t complain. I’ll explain, then in the morning I’ll give you a book and let you get on your way. Maybe you’ll see me again, maybe you won’t get the chance, but after tonight I won’t spare you.”
Donnie was still transfixed on Izkah, barely noting how... odd and crudely upgraded Leo's bike seemed to be. A few more alterations would make things fit better. He'd never been able to work on a hoverbike before...
But he'd save that particular fantasy for later. Right now, he had a game to join. A destiny to fulfill.
He rushed over to the ground where Shelldon lay, dutifully avoiding the corpses and bloodstains. Shelldon was still in working order, it seemed, but his pristinely painted purple framing was scraped and scratched. He grimaced and ran delicate fingers along the dents. If the Purple Dragons weren't dead, he would've killed them himself.
Still, he was salvageable, though his programming might be slightly out of line. Nothing a tune-up couldn't fix. He supposed he needed to equip him with several more weapons now that he was some sort of warrior...
He hardly heard Leo with his mind so abuzz. He hopped onto the bike, tapping at a few of the components, and thought for a moment. "...You know, if you give me a few more days before you slaughter me, I could polish this thing up a bit more. Free of charge, of course. So long as you let me live."
...No way was he going to hold onto Leo. Touch was hellish, let alone from a near-complete stranger, even if this one had saved his life. So he leaned back as far as he could and clung onto the sides of his seat. "Ready."
Leo narrowed his eyes at the comment to his baby. “I’ll have you know she’s better than any fucking military-grade hoverbike you’ll find out there.” He rolled his eyes, tapping in his password to pull up the thermal scanners, and checked the building quickly for any survivors. His heat signature glowed like a fucking sun, as usual.
He adjusted his mirrors quickly, looking back at Donnie through them. “If you don’t hold on,” he warned, “you’re going right off the back when I start her up. She’s faster than regular hoverbikes and her acceleration speed is quadruple what it should be. In other words, we’ll be doing one-fifty in about twenty seconds.”
He’d never claimed to be a safe driver.
He also could already tell Donnie was stubborn, so he did exactly as he said and sped out of the warehouse, onto the streets.
Predictably, Donnie let out a screech akin to that of a hawk and latched onto Leo's waist, finding that his warmth was shockingly comforting. That couldn't be normal. Did human body temperatures vary that much?
...Whatever the answer, Donnie found himself relaxing. How? He had no idea. He shouldn't be relaxing, he knew, but he found the whole incident fading into the back of his mind like well-programmed background software. Blocked out. Now all he had to worry about was the wind making the hairs on his arms stand up, Leo's roadside death wish, and, of course, how gorgeous the city looked when it was blurred at such quick speeds.
He leaned his head against Leo's back, flinching when the helmet made contact and he didn't, and watched the lights flash by.
Leo whirled in and out of traffic easily, darting between cars, turning corners so fast the pedals and his feet nearly brushed the curb in places. At least he’d learned one thing in his years in the Race, a car accident counted as a suicide. That was against the rules, of course.
Which meant he couldn’t crash.
Did that make him ridiculously reckless? Of course, but what didn’t?
He barely spared the city a glance, he was too busy trying to figure out what he was meant to do. He wanted to just give Donnie one of the spare books he’d collected over the years, let him spend the night, and then drop him off never to be seen again in the morning. He wouldn’t survive to the end of the game, after all, Leo wouldn’t have to kill him.
...But that was the problem.
Leo didn’t want him to die, he didn’t want to drop him off knowing that he was sending a child to his death. The kid was sixteen, for fuck’s sake, and built like a twig. Sure, he was smart, but brains couldn’t compensate for everything. He was bound to get himself killed at some point, and that would be on Leo’s.
He’d killed so many people already, what was so different about Donnie? He couldn’t place it. Maybe it was because Donnie didn’t deserve this, he was just some awkward kid. He wasn’t a kid like Kendra and her gang, clearly fucked in the head. He wasn’t a vengeful adult, or someone who at least stood a chance on their own.
He was just... Leo didn’t want him to die. He wished desperately that Thirus had chosen anyone else.
He pulled into his parking garage, and into his labelled spot, then stepped off his bike, holding his hands out for Donnie’s helmet. He’d figure something out. He had to.
Donnie, who had very little idea of the Race's rules, thought that Leo was trying to kill him at first. Or both of them. He had no idea what was going through his mind.
It was only after they jumped over an entire car in the middle of a lane that he realized Leo was just naturally reckless. He didn't have a death wish; he knew that he could get away with anything he did. Maybe his God was protecting him somehow? Still, Donnie clung to him tight, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as they got back into a crowded area, focusing on his warmth rather than the whir of cars and music around them.
He didn't even realize they'd stopped once they'd arrived in the garage. It took him a few seconds before he let out a huge breath and looked up at him, dumbly, then fidgeted and handed the helmet over. He cleared his throat. "Thank you."
Leo nodded, clicking the helmet back into a little box that he stuffed in his pocket. “Come along, you can crash on the couch, I’ll get you some pillows and blankets and shit. You can shower if you want, but I’m first ‘cause I’m still covered in blood.”
He thought for a moment, pulling out his flask as he approached the door to the building. He scanned his ID chip and held the door open for Donnie. “You can take what you want from the fridge if you’re hungry, you did only eat a bowl of ramen. I’ll make breakfast in the morning.” He led Donnie into the elevator, then scanned his wrist once more until the top floor lit up, and it began to move.
“Try not to track dirt in, I hate cleaning but I’m a bit of a neat freak, conflicting but I deal with it.” He glanced down at his nails, the blue polish was chipped, so he would need to fix that at some point. At least his nails weren’t bitten like they tended to be when he had a really boring job. The nail polish was supposed to be a deterrent for that, but it didn’t really work all that well. Whatever.
The elevator dinged, and Leo stepped out into his apartment. The entire far wall was glass, leaving a view of all the glittering buildings below, the lights casting a glow across the dark wooden floors.
The living room was simple, a couple of couches around a glass table, a large tv, a ton of plants scattered around. The kitchen was large, with neat black countertops, an island and some pretty hanging lights. He pointed to the closed blue door, “my room, off-limits.” He gestured to the white door next to it. “Bathroom, make sure to lock both doors. Get yourself settled in.”
He kicked off his boots and tugged off his belt, taking the sheath of his odachi and a bunch of throwing knives with it, then headed to his room quickly to put it in the closet before he returned. He was still armed, but at least it was less obvious. “Sorry, I suck at company.”
Donnie surveyed the room, looking for both tech and traps. He couldn't deny that it was one of the most beautiful places he'd ever been to in the city (granted, he didn't leave his apartment much), and the view was almost otherworldly. He could've stared at it for hours if not for the impending threat to his life.
He cleared his throat and kicked his shoes off in the entryway, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. Leo had a lot of knives, and the thought of them being used on him at any given moment scared the hell out of him.
...Kind of in a good way.
Chasing that thought away, Donnie sat down on Leo's couch and made himself seem as small as possible. He knew Leo had saved his life once, but who's to say he didn't have some kind of anger management issue? He wasn't going to rummage around Leo's stuff and find out.
And then, he realized Leo had been speaking that whole time.
"Oh, um," Donnie set Shelldon down in his lap and started to meddle with the part Kendra had inserted into his system, "it's fine. Where's the book?"
Leo eyed him for a moment, “first, I should explain some things, things I’ve found out in my years playing. First, this is the last year of the Game, you were lucky enough to be in the last round of contestants, I was in the first. The game runs for five years, every fifty years.” He headed into the closet of his room, snagging out a few pillows and blankets. He carried them over to the couch, and sat them next to Donnie. “Second is just a word of advice, don’t do what those idiots did. They were using business opportunities and other shit to try and lure other people in the game. Way too traceable. I just hunt people down, which is what most people do.”
He grabbed him a water bottle and set it next to him, casually picking up some of the various guns and other weapons to take to his room as he talked. “Game runs all over the world, India, Japan, Canada… literally nowhere is off-limits. I tracked one guy to fucking Antarctica, which sounds smart, until you consider the fact that there was literally nowhere to run from me. Your best bet is to stay in cities, New York is a hot spot though, I recommend Toronto, it’s a big city, lot’s of places to hide, but not many people really think of going there.”
He paused in front of him, scanning him. He definitely wasn’t strong, wasn’t a good runner either. “Get yourself a gym membership, work yourself hard, lot’s of the people coming after you are like me. I’m the only one alive from the first round, but there are a bunch from the second and third rounds. They’ve had time to bulk up, or they were already naturally fit like me when this started. Most people are in their thirties through fifties, you and I just got unlucky to be added young and without books. You were meant to steal someone’s book when they came after you to figure all this out, but you got fucked over.”
This time, Donnie listened intently to every word he said. He had to be in perfect shape to win this game, both mentally and (ugh) physically, but Leo clearly didn't know who he was dealing with. He was a champion of tech, and if he managed to manifest some better-than-military grade weapons? Yeah, the others in the Game wouldn't stand a chance.
Especially if his plans for Shelldon came to full fruition.
But he let Leo continue, nodding along, taking a mental note of every little detail he gave. "And how am I supposed to know who to kill? Couldn't the others just... change their names or create false identities? How do you manage to track people? I understand how you could've tracked me, but... without a level of tech expertise..." he raised a brow, scanning him, "you... don't exactly look like an intense tech type."
Leo snorted, "Well aren't you a judgy little shit?" He crossed his arms over his chest, "I might not be the best or anything, but I managed to find the Purple Dragon's operation, each of their real names, you, your real name, and the addresses for all of you. I've learned a thing or two. Yeah, I will warn you people create fake identities, you think that name down there in the parking lot is my real name? I've managed to bury everything out there containing my real identity, and so have others. You have to figure that out on your own, all the names are in the book. You're lucky I have a spare, by the way, because I wouldn't give up mine. You'd have to kill me. Which you can try, honestly, feel free. You won't manage it."
He headed over to his room, and returned with a book. It was old, the red leather worn, the pages yellowed and crumbling, with spidery handwriting covering the front in thick, gold letters. The Game of Gods. Inside, the same handwriting carried on in dark ink, explaining the rules, giving names. It appeared to almost hum with power. He handed the book to Donnie.
"Welcome to The Race, good luck, kid.”