#mod byrd

Raph: Well Mikey couldn’t test because of his whole... situation. Me and Leo seemed like the most obvious choices since Donnie failed-

Donnie: We don’t talk about that

Donnie: I would never subjugate myself to such a low profession. I’m a rebel, a solo act, and I would rather die than tie myself-

RAPH: Well, I lost my left arm while trying to bring dad back, and my right when I brought back Mikey’s soul.

LEO: I lost my left leg. Guess I just couldn’t stand the Truth, huh?

DONNIE: I think I got out the luckiest, with only losing my left eye. I was able to help the O’Neils build automail for Raph and Leo.

The sound of the mob outside echoed throughout the cathedral, hundreds of voices swirled and clashed against each other, but the anger and resentment was clear, as was their motive. Father Harold limped slowly, clutching his gun over his newly mutilated arm, dragging himself into the closest room with an open door. He kept his eyes trained on the corridor. He wasn’t safe; he needed to patch up and go, it was only a matter of time until they broke in and demanded for his head on a stake. Sure, the doors were heavy and had large wooden planks barricading the entrance, but the roaring mob had torches and the strength of hundreds by their side, they’d get in through sheer determination alone.

He stumbled into the room. "Everything I worked for! All ruined by those damn brats."

"Yes," a familiar voice drawled from the dark, "such a shame that your little plan didn't work, all that hard work for nothing." Harold snapped his neck over to the owner of the voice in front of him. He’d been so busy looking back he’d never thought to check where he was going to, and now they’ve found him. There stood the two who gave him the philosopher’s stone, or at least what he thought was a philosopher’s stone.

The rich-looking woman shifted her weight on her heel, her glasses flashing white as it caught the light from outside. A gloved hand went up to cover her mouth, a gesture that would normally be seen as polite was obviously mocking in this situation. The other sat on the floor, chewing on what seemed to be a leg of a chimera which he discarded soon after, but he couldn’t exactly tell with the dark shadows cast into the room. 

She sucked her teeth. "An itsy bitsy rebellion would have been sufficient," She muttered to no one, "never failed us before." 

“You…” Harold glowered at them. They betrayed him. He should have seen this coming, and yet...

The slobbering fellow patted his stomach, staring up at the short woman who was clearly in charge of the staged rodeo.

“I’m hungry.” The man’s stomach growled and he patted his stomach and looked hungrily to Harold, making him feel like a prey, powerless under the predator's watchful gaze. “Mind if I take this one of your hands? He looks like a fine meal if I say so myself.”

The lady shot a look at her partner, tsking at him, the condescending glare shut him up immediately as he shrunk on himself.

"I don't mind dirtying my hands for this insolent human, unless you want to get indigestion?" She raised her eyebrow, her voice dangerously low.

"No ma'am, he's all yours." He averted her gaze and looked at the ground instead. It didn't make Harold feel less terrified though.

Harold gripped his gun tighter as he pointed the gun towards the boss lady. There was no way he was going down without a fight, even if there was no way that he’d take them both down. 

“Now you two?” He started to line up his vision with his target, “Everyone has mocked me! I won’t stand for-” 

Within that split second, the gorey sound of a blade penetrating flesh could be heard echoing in the room. 

Harold trembled as he forced his legs to support himself upright. He was dead for sure, no one can survive a head wound like that. The lady had done… something, that was for sure, out of her outstretched fingertip was a sharp blade, going clean through his skull like a spear. He resisted against the feeling of his eyes rolling back into his head and the weight of gravity suddenly acting so much stronger on him. He would at least try to die with some dignity intact.

The blade retracted from his head with a shing and his knees gave out under him. Harold tried desperately to keep his eyes focused onto the approaching enemy’s expression, but he couldn’t follow through, his head rolling uselessly on his shoulders. All he could see was the stark red tattoo sitting under her mouth and in between her shoulder blades but even then it was hard to concentrate with his vision wavering.

The man walked meekly behind her, dragging his hammer-looking tenderiser on the ground. Harold could feel his consciousness fading, the cold and delicate fingers of the lady lifted his head gently as she held his hazing gaze. She smirked as he gurgled, his mouth failing to shape the words needed to express his betrayal, his mouth was sluggish to move the numbness seeping into his veins felt all the more clear as his senses slipped away from him. 

He couldn’t fight the pull of gravity anymore as his eyes rolled back, his clenched stomach finally giving way as he fell face first to the ground. It didn’t hurt; nothing hurt anymore, he could scarcely feel the sensation of his head knocking against the ground or he felt the faint tickle of blood spilling out of his wound. Even that faded from him eventually, and he knew nothing more than the suffocatingly cold grasp of death.

"We're done here." She wiped off the fluids that remained on her right glove, her expression bored. The hog hovered over the dead man, blood from his head wound pooled and lapped at uncovered hooves. 

"You're allowed to eat off the floor as long as you clean up your mess." She waved her hand dismissively as she turned on her heel, back facing the light of the corridor. "Don't take too long now, we have work to do." 

Her lips pursed to form a tight line, eyes closed as she tried to clear her mind from the disgust and annoyance that could have overtaken her. The sound of high heels against the floor were staccato sharp as she made her way to their exit.

RAPH: I mean, we’ve been better

MIKEY: Way better

LEO: But we’re pulling through, looking good, and kicking butt!