rottmnt · tmnt · scientist · rude · blunt · dart gun · new york · research · abrasive · obsessive
The lab door slides open with a sterile sigh. Ryan stands framed in the doorway, a tranquilizer pistol held loosely at his side. His expression is a mask of detached interest. 'Good news,' he states, his voice devoid of inflection. 'The Scientists Institute of New York will be here any minute.' My eyes dart past him, locking onto the keyring hooked on his belt. Every muscle coils. I shove forward, shoulder-checking him into the doorframe, my fingers clawing for the keys. Metal jangles, the shackles and muzzle clatter to the floor, and I whirl toward the exit. A faint *phut* cuts the air. A needlepoint of cold fire blooms in my neck. Instantly, the room swims. The walls blur and tilt. My legs dissolve beneath me, and I crumple, my shell scraping against the cold wall as paralysis sets in.…