capeandcowllogs | Don't give us none of your aggravation / We had it with your discipline

WHO: That one turtle (

thebadturtle) and YOU.
WHERE: Mean streets of New York (as well as their rooftops)
WHEN: Late night Saturday, becoming early morning Sunday.
WARNINGS: Violence, baby.
SUMMARY: Raphael works the patrols. Doin' his thing.
FORMAT: WORDS. Para to start, roll with tagger from there.

He had left the bar a few hours ago -- Tom's place was nice and quiet with the imPort bouncers about -- with so many of them openly freaky, they made sure a certain element stayed away. Sure, this meant wearing clothes (no shirt, no shoes, no service -- including the help) but Raphael was getting used to traversing the roofs with the heavy boots, jeans and wifebeater on.

Didn't mean he stayed in them long; he usually stashed them on the roof of the bar before he headed into the night to kick some butt and take some names, and this night was no different.

Leaping from roof to roof in search of trouble, Raph was pleased it wasn't hard to find. Still, after a workout with putting the hurt on a pimp who was getting rough with some of his girls, he found himself perched at the edge of a building, watching the city and wishing Casey was around.

Patrol wasn't the same without somebody equally crazy to hang with-- and give you a check to your balance.

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"Sorry to shatter your hopes and dreams, but I don't make friends." His eyes could be spotted rolling beneath the cowl. "I just don't like involving myself in unnecessary battles. That's all."

He traded the swagger for a stroll in the opposite direction, more than ready to get back to business instead of wasting his time with chest-puffing and small talk.

"Oh. So you're a dick. Got ya." Raph gives the guy a thumbs up. "See ya, stubs."

The stroll -- that's a little more familiar, but the voice, the rest, it still bothers him. Then he realizes why: Those eyes. He's seen them roll before... in a drunk teen boy's head, when he was being a little too touchy-feely for Raph's taste.

It's all wrong, though, leaving Raph questioning his senses; he doesn't like that much-- but coupled with the attitude, and the strange thing Reilly had become... it fits the gimmick...

"Guess you got a law class to cram for, huh? Ain't it a school night?"

...it was a guess. A reach. Raph wasn't the fast one, but he wasn't stupid. He remembered that book, wondered what somebody would want to do homework about lawyer crap on a beach, with all that water and sun and sand...

...but it could be wrong.

Couldn't it?

He stopped. Let loose a low, deep, amused laugh. Turned back to Raph with an amused.

"Are you all right, amphibian? Get whacked a little too hard in the head? But, hey, at least you gave me a laugh. Right, sure, I'm about to go cram. Just gotta go pick up my briefcase first -- I left it an alley bank there."

He shook his head and snorted. It was a good act. Almost too good. Like this was a pretext he'd been so used to keeping it was now habit.

Raph rose and stretched, before sauntering the other way.

"Then you won't care if I see if your girlfriend's lonely," Raph says with the ease of someone who knows how to push those BIG RED BUTTONS labeled 'Don't touch that ever'. "Since I got the wrong guy, and all."

Reilly's fist clenched.

Yet he kept walking away. He couldn't give himself away, not over a stupid taunt. He couldn't. "Uh-huh. No idea who you're talking about, greenie, but I'm sure she can do better than you."

"And the Oscar for most obvious secret identity flub goes to the nerd from the beach trip," Raph replies, before he jumps to the next roof-- not a long leap by any means, but it gives him some space between them.

Darkdevil ground his fangs, turning to face the turtle. So much for walking away from the situation. "Look, I don't know what your obsession with this nerd you keep mentioning is, but you need to drop it."

"I guess that's all good then, bro," Raph says, letting the alley yawn between them. "Because I was gonna wipe the mat with him. Guess I'll have to get his girl on it instead."

That grin he wears? Pure challenge.

The scowl Darkdevil is now wearing? Not amused. Not a bit.

"That's the best you can come up with? Ugh, it's not even creative, it's just crude."

"I never claimed to be the smart one. Sorry, the brainy brothers didn't make it over," Raph says, grin still in place. "But if you ain't gonna play, man, I got better shit to do. See ya, Reilly."

Oh, the sacredness of the secret identity -- Raph ought to be more respectful.

But he's sixteen. That's really hard to muster.

"Right, I don't think it's a secret that you didn't inherit the brains in the family--"

Once his brain caught up to what Raph actually said, he found himself shutting up mid-quip. Did this guy just use his real name? While he was in costume? Honestly?! Not that he had a lot of room to talk, what with his habit of referring to May as... well. May. Even before she knew.

"Again, sorry to disappoint, but you've got the wrong guy."

"Whatever, dude!" he was already headed off across the rooftops, laughing all the way. Tallying up his internal score, Raph decided it was a clear victory:

Raphael 1, "Darkdevil" 0.

Don't give us none of your aggravation / We had it with your discipline

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