mnt_raph | (no subject)

*The full moon is shrouded by the overcast sky. There is a soft breeze blowing across La Guardia Airport. Just enough to cushion the sound of any unexpected footfalls. It's just warm enough to not warrant a jacket, but not so hot as to deny one enough clothes to conceal a wide arrangement of weaponry.

In truth, it's the perfect night for sneaking.

One wouldn't think there would be many shadows at an international airport.
That one clearly hasn't ever made the trek with Leonardo and Raphael.
All business, they make their way across the numerous runways and driveways without a single word between them. They're looking for a Red Eye to Los Angeles. Not exactly an easy thing to do from the outside of a terminal, but they seem to manage.

It's all Leo can do to keep Raph from jumping the baggage handlers when it appears the cargo doors will be closed before proper Stow Away can be accomplished. The forced patience is rewarded, and the two find themselves inside the unpressurized cargo hold bound for the Left Coast.*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Leo is mediating.

Okay, he is trying to mediate.

"I can not commune with the universe without an oreo. Brother of mine, would you please pass one? --Not throw it."

You can't commune with the universe on account of the fact that we're at 35 thousand feet. Oreo ain't gonna help. 'Sides, they're mine.

Leo cracks an eye open. "Extra grouchy."

You'd prefer extra punchy?

"Punchy would mean those chickens over there would have shut up by now." He glares at the squaking box. "Who ships birds in planes anyhow?" He is marking where the oreos are out of the corner of his eye.

"You okay?"

Oh yeah. I'm fuckin' peachy. Perfect. Right as frickin' rain.

"That's why we're going." While he's glaring the other way, Leo starts to prod at the oreos with his sword. A ninja must use all the weapons at his disposal.

*Raph doesn't hear a damn thing. He's too busy staring daggers at the crate of chickens. It's all their fault, don't you know.*

When I find them, I'm gonna wring their frickin' necks.

Damn chickens. All their fault. Oooh, oreos.

"Sounds good. Let's try to keep a few of them alive, though. For interrogation purposes." He tips his head and thinks. "...one of them, I mean."

Better get to them quick then.