"when she was just a girl, she expected the world
but it flew away from her reach
so she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of paradise
every time she closed her eyes."
___________

*Beautiful art of Scarlet by curlyshaker on Amino!*

Slowly but surely, Scarlet drifts back into consciousness.

A groan trails from her lips. She blinks a few times, letting her vision adjust as the fuzziness begins to fade. Her head buzzes like a swarm of angry bumblebees—pesky, stinging, and nowhere near as sweet as honey. She groans again and shifts with discomfort, trying to ignore the dull ache pulsing through her body. Her eyes close for a moment as she attempts to recall what's happened. A tidal wave of memories comes flooding back to her mind: the strange men cornering her, the pain as she crash landed on her wrist, and...a giant green man?

Okay, I definitely imagined that last bit.

What she hasn't imagined, however, is her wrist injury. The burning pain she once felt has ebbed, but it's now sore and annoyingly stiff and she can feel that it's swollen. She shifts, realizing her left hand has been wrapped haphazardly in old-looking bandages, and her confusion grows. She shifts again and attempts to put a bit of pressure on her wrist, only to hiss as a sharp pain spiderwebs through her hand. So that won't work. The girl huffs and pulls herself into a sitting position without using her left hand, grunting with the effort, and her head spins as a woozy feeling comes over her. She shakes her head and attempts to focus on her surroundings. The windows are grimy, but judging by the faint light filtering through them, it's likely early morning. She must have been knocked out all night.

Wait...windows?

A jolt of panic strikes her as she realizes she's not where she last remembers being. Instead of the concrete floor of an alley, she's laying in the middle of what looks like some sort of warehouse, an old one at that. Everywhere she looks, there's nothing but shadow, enclosing her in a prison of nearly total darkness. The brunette's heart speeds up. Her small frame starts to tremble, and her breaths come faster. Before she knows it, she's hyperventilating. A shaky whimper escapes her as she struggles to steady herself. Someone must have brought her here while she was unconscious. But why? What would they want with her? What would they do to her? Or worse...have they already done something to her? She swallows the enormous lump sitting in her throat.

I have to get out of here.

Scarlet's gaze darts around frantically. Her bag lays on the ground a few feet away, still laden with all the contents she'd left in it. Whoever brought her here, they haven't bothered to steal anything—but that doesn't mean they're trustworthy. The girl starts to move, crawling toward her bag and ignoring the jet of pain that shoots through her wrist. She slings it over her shoulder and forces herself shakily to feet, her head still reeling. Looking around again, the only exit she's able to locate is boarded up, but she's never been one to let a challenge stop her. One way or another, she'll escape. She starts forward.

Then, something shifts in the shadows above.

Scarlet's head snaps up, followed by a squeak of fright. Peering down at her from above is a pair of stark green eyes, two pinpricks of light piercing directly into her soul. The figure they belong to is shrouded in shadow. The street urchin instantly reaches for her bag with her good hand and whips out her pocket knife.

"Wh-who's there?" she demands. Her voice comes out weak and raspy, but she does her best to sound intimidating. "What do you want from me?"

"Relax, pipsqueak. I'm not gonna hurt you." The voice that responds is distinctly male, with a hard, gruff quality. There's an edge to it that makes him sound rather harsh, something that makes the girl flinch instinctively.

"Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm the one who saved you from those freaks. Believe me, if I wanted to hurt you, I would've already."

"Saved?" Scarlet's brows raise. "You mean...you rescued me from those men? You're the one who brought me here?"

"That's what I said."

"Why?"

"What is this, an interrogation? I saw you in trouble, so I saved you. Simple as that."

The brunette squints. She can just barely make out the stranger's silhouette—he looks smaller than she'd expected, but has a bulkier form, almost like a living boulder. Taking that and the fact he supposedly fought off those men into account, she gets the impression he's not someone to mess with. "S-show yourself, then. Let me see who you are."

"Trust me, you don't want that."

"Then I can't trust you."

"Fine by me."

Scarlet huffs. Whoever this man is, he sure is difficult, and rescuer or not she has no intention of sticking around to deal with his attitude. Besides, she hasn't abandoned her philosophy: trust no one. She turns away, limping a few more paces toward the exit.

"Where are you going?" asks the voice.

"Away."

"By yourself, huh? Because that worked out soooo great for you last time, didn't it?"

"I'm not staying here with a total stranger."

There's a beat of silence. Then, the man sighs, sounding reluctant but resigned.

"Fine, I'll come out. Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Scarlet stiffens as the figure leaps down from above with the quickness and agility of a ninja. He lands with ease, his shadowy form growing as he stands to his full height—which, oddly enough, still isn't very tall. Then, he steps slowly into the light.

Nothing could have prepared Scarlet for the sight.

A man emerges from the darkness...except he isn't a man at all. His skin is pure green and muscular, and his hands and feet are twice as big as hers, with three stubby fingers and toes wrapped in bandages instead of five. She notices knee and elbow pads and various other gear on his body, including what looks like a pair of three-pronged weapons at his sides. A mask as scarlet as her name wraps around his face, behind which his electric green eyes narrow at her. And is that...a turtle shell on his back? He's absolutely not human, and yet his height and the way he stands make him look ridiculously so. She's seen plenty of bizarre things growing up in New York City, but never anything like this.

It's absolutely terrifying.

"Oh my gosh." Scarlet shakes her head, bringing a hand to her temple as she blinks rapidly. Her heart pounds like a frenzied drum, threatening to burst straight from her chest. "Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh. I must still dreaming...this isn't real..."

"Trust me, princess, I'm real."

"So...I'm awake? This is actually happening?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. In that case..."

She opens her mouth and screams in terror.

"Geez, would you stop that?" the creature grumbles, clamping his hands over where his ears should be. "You're gonna wake the whole city!"

He moves toward her, but Scarlet scrambles backward with bulging eyes. "S-stay back!" She points her pocket knife at him with a shaking hand, aiming it right between his eyes. To her dismay, his broad shoulders bounce as he laughs at her attempt to fend him off.

"Please. You look like a baby," he snorts. "How old even are ya, six?"

"Thirteen."

"Close enough."

Scarlet scowls at the thing. He takes another step toward her, and she takes another away, taking a shaky breath.

"Look, I don't know if you're a turtle, or a frog, or an ogre or whatever, but I won't let you hurt me," she warns.

"Didn't you listen to a thing I said? I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"How do I know that?"

"Are you kidding? You're the one pointing a freaking knife at me!"

The brunette opens her mouth to respond, but the beast keeps going, his gums flapping in an angry tirade. "Listen, I didn't have to help you!" he snaps. "I saved your scrawny butt and carried you here after you passed out, plus I wrapped up your stupid wrist! But if this is the thanks I get, maybe I should've left you back in that alley to get rained on!"

He folds his arms and turns away, grumbling under his breath. Scarlet flinches and averts her gaze. Guilt washes over her like a tidal wave, cold and heavy. As much as she hates to admit it, this scary green man has a point. If he's telling the truth, he could've gone on his merry way when he saw her in trouble. Instead, he'd rescued her and brought her to safety. And it's hard to imagine why a five-foot-tall mutant creature would lie about that. Perhaps the least she can do is cooperate with him, at least for the moment.

"Wait," she blurts. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude...thank you for saving me, um, Mister Green Guy."

A few moments of silence pass. Scarlet shrinks slightly, half-expecting the thing to whip around and shout at her again. Instead, his muscular shoulders relax a bit as he sighs.

"Don't worry about it," he says at last, turning to face her with crossed arms. "And for your information, I'm a turtle, not a green guy or an ogre or whatever."

"Close enough, right?"

A grin might have played on the turtle man's lips, but it fades too quickly for Scarlet to tell. "Whatever. How's your wrist feel?"

"Weird."

"Let me see."

The girl's jaw tightens. She can't say she's one hundred-percent comfortable with the idea. But at the very least, she knows he won't harm her and he's already patched her up anyway, so maybe a quick look wouldn't hurt. After a moment's hesitation, nods timidly, drawing a sharp breath as the turtle moves toward her.

Her head is clearer now and she she can truly focus on him as he draws nearer. His eyes are like two emeralds, glowing from behind his crimson mask, the tails of which have definitely seen better days. She notices a chip in the front of his plastron, shaped oddly like a lightning bolt. His hands look rough and calloused, like he's used to hitting things—she doesn't miss the dark purple bruises that bloom along his knuckles. She expects his touch to be rough and reptilian, like the freaky aliens she's seen in movies, and her body trembles as she struggles not to shy away from him. To her surprise, it's rather soft as he takes her hand and examines her wrist. He feels at it carefully while she tries to ignore the pain it causes.

"Well, I'm no doctor, but I can tell you from experience it's probably sprained." He pauses to feel at it again. "Yeah, definitely a sprain. How'd this happen?"

"It was those men," she says, her voice gaining an edge as their blank faces pop into her head. How she'd like to give them a taste of their own medicine. "One of them hit me and I fell. I tried to break my fall with my hands and landed too hard on one of them."

"Ah, so it was the Kraang."

"Kraang?" the orphan echoes, cocking her head.

"The aliens that attacked you."

"ALIENS?"

"Uh, just kidding."

Scarlet arches a brow, but considering she's still coping with the existence of a giant mutant turtle, she decides not to question it.

"So, what exactly is a kid like you doing alone on the street, anyway?" he asks. "Especially late at night."

"Nothing worth talking about."

The turtle doesn't look convinced, but he shrugs it off. With the conversation halted for the moment, Scarlet opts to focus on the dank warehouse around them. Judging by the cobwebs strung in the corners and the rust crumbling from the support beams, the place has been abandoned for a while. A few stray crates lay strewn messily around the floor, but other than that the place is completely empty. The walls are blank with peeling paint, and she wrinkles her nose as she realizes for the first time how musty the air is. She notices a stairwell off to the side leading to an equally-crusty second floor. The building is spacey for sure, but to call it homey would be a stretch.

"So, this is where you live?"

The stranger hesitates, as if he himself isn't sure. "Yeah. I guess so."

"It's...nice."

"You can say it's a dump. But it's better than nothing. And speaking of which, this whole 'meeting you' thing has been just great, but I'm sure you have a home of your own to get back to. If you don't try to run away again, I can take you back tonight. Hopefully your folks will be able to get that wrist looked at."

Scarlet's expression falters. "Home?"

"Uh, yeah. Your parents are probably worried about you, right?"

"No."

"Wow. No offense, kid, but you've got some real crappy parents."

"Yeah," she mumbles, averting her gaze. "I know."

More awkward silence falls over the room. They stand there, not quite sure what to say. The quiet is only broken when Raphael clears his throat.

"Well, just take it easy for now. You'll be home like nothing happened before you know it."

He starts to move away. Scarlet starts after him, her voice rising slightly with urgency. "Where are you going?"

"You're real antsy, aren't you?" The turtle eyes her. "You can relax, pipsqueak. I'll just be keeping watch over this place."

"Oh. Okay."

He turns away again.

"...Wait."

"Oi, what now? Are all kids this annoying?"

She ignores his remark. "Do you...have a name, by any chance?"

The turtle pauses. There's an expression on his face she can't quite place, maybe an odd mix of surprise and slight amusement. His eyebrow—or whatever qualifies as an eyebrow for him—raises slightly as his green eyes glint. "Raphael."

Scarlet blinks, forehead creasing. What sort of a name is Raphael? She's never heard anything like it before. Fitting for someone she's never seen anything like before. It's...actually kind of nice, in a weird sort of way.

"I'm Scarlet."

"Scarlet, huh? I guess that's kinda cool. Not as cool as my name, but still up there."

"Wow, thanks."

"You're welcome." Something tells Scarlet he's more the sarcastic type. "So, uh...just chill here for now, and try and try and keep that wrist raised. We leave at nightfall, got it?"

Scarlet nods. She's tempted to ask him more questions—how he even exists in the first place, what he's doing in a warehouse by himself—but he's disappeared back into the shadows before she can even open her mouth. She blinks once, taking a breath, before sitting carefully back down.

Grrroooowllll.

The girl's stomach growls like a wild animal and she groans as hunger pains start to settle in. Her body's been so preoccupied with recuperating, it's forgotten how hungry it was. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a small piece of bread, inhaling it quickly. Her stomach begs for another slice, but a glance into her purse tells her that her food reserve is running dangerously low. The first thing she'll have to do when she gets out is replenish her supply. It'll prove difficult with a sprained wrist, but she'll manage.

Scarlet sighs. She settles herself on her stomach, left wrist resting just above her heart and head pillowed on her bag. She doesn't trust herself to fall asleep, but at least she can relax a bit. Weirdly enough, she feels a sense of security within the walls of this old warehouse, which is especially unexpected considering she's in a complete stranger's home. It's nowhere near as warm and cozy as the apartments she'd lived in as a child, but it's certainly a step-up from the cold, hard floor of alleyways or the benches of subway stations.

Even so, she knows better than to get comfortable. "Security" has never suited her lifestyle.

She'll lay here just long enough to get some strength back, but she'll be on her own again by tonight. Which is the way things should be, anyhow. She can take any memories of those men—who hopefully aren't aliens—and push them to the back of her brain, where she can forget all about them. Maybe the same will happen with this "Raphael" character, although he seems far more unforgettable.

For now, though, it won't hurt to rest.