Chapter Text
April was glad to be back on solid ground. The flight to California had hit turbulence less than an hour after takeoff and she’d spent the rest of the trip clutching the armrests with a white-knuckled grip. The poor person sitting next to her had given her many sympathetic looks and spoken to her quietly in a soothing tone for a while to try to help her calm her nerves. April had thanked them sincerely, though she knew it wouldn’t do much good. This always happened whenever she traveled by plane. It didn’t matter that she knew statistically plane crashes were exceedingly rare, the slightest bump and all she could do from then on was imagine plummeting through the air in free fall. Ironically, she had no problem riding in the Channel 6 helicopter, or even flying it herself. Maybe it had something to do with being able to see where she was going, or with being the one controlling the aircraft. She was sure one of those scientists who became famous for writing about how the mind worked would have something to say about either of those theories.
She’d made the journey across the country to be a guest host on one of the national talk shows. They were doing a months-long salute to local newscasters and, seeing it as yet another opportunity to promote April’s Broadcaster of the Year Award, Burne Thompson had campaigned hard to get her this spot on their panel. April, in turn, had negotiated with Burne to use some of the many vacation days she had stored up and extend the trip into a much-needed getaway. After a bit of back and forth, he finally agreed to hire a freelancer to cover for her the two weeks she’d be away.
“How’s California?” Irma asked when she and April FaceChatted the following evening.
“Hot. But of course the studio is cold so freeze inside, roast outside.” It had still been seasonably cool when she left the East Coast, but Southern California was in the grip of an unusual spring heat wave. April had changed into a tank top and shorts after filming ended for the day and the backs of her legs were now sticking to the smooth black leather of the rolling desk chair in her hotel room.
“Seen any vampires yet?”
“That was just a TV show,” April laughed. “Vampires aren’t real.”
“Aliens aren’t real either, yet you’re on a first-name basis with several,” Irma pointed out. “I’m just saying, you see anyone excessively pale out there, they’re probably a vampire.”
“Pretty sure I’m going to be the palest person out here given the suitcase full of SPF 100 sunscreen I brought with me.” April gestured to the fair skin of her face and vibrant red hair. “Tell you what, if I see anyone excessively pale and inexplicably wearing a leather trench coat in this heat, I’ll let you know.”
“That’s all I ask.” Irma beamed. “So you know how you’re spending your vacation days yet?”
“Day trip out to the Pier at some point. Other than that, deciding whether to spend the day at the beach or by the hotel pool.”
“Ah, hence the excessive amount of sunblock.” April nodded. She was looking forward to spending several days water adjacent, her only concern getting through as many of the books she’d loaded into her eReader as possible. That and deciding what cocktail to have with dinner. “Good, enjoy your downtime. Hopefully those relaxed vibes will last long enough to get you through your return home.”
“Huh, what do you mean?”
Irma frowned. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“Uhm, no . . .” April picked her phone up off the desk and scrolled through the messenger app. She hadn’t gotten any texts at all since right before leaving the City. “Hm. Maybe I left it in Airplane Mode.” She checked the settings, but everything looked right. She shrugged and put the phone down. “What was it?”
“Vernon broke his foot last night.”
“What? How did he do that?!”
“Well, he was on a date and—“
“Nope, nope, I’m good.” April waved her hands back and forth in front of the camera. “Really don’t need to know any more.”
“He’s on Anchor Desk duty for at least the next month until he gets off crutches. Can’t drive so can’t do any field reporting.” Irma gave April a meaningful look that she returned with a blank stare of her own. “The State of the City is two days after you get back.”
“Uggghhhhh!” April slumped in the chair and covered her face with her hands. She and Vernon had been rivals almost from the moment they both started working at Channel 6, but they had quickly formed an unspoken agreement that City politics would be his beat. It was perhaps the only thing they’d ever agreed on. April found the atmosphere in and around City Hall uncomfortably toxic. She much preferred the investigative aspect of her job, of delving into a mystery and finding answers to difficult questions. Seeing as her aunt was a well-known amature detective, it was undoubtedly a family trait. It also explained her tendency to walk boldly into dangerous situations. Vernon, meanwhile, lived for politics. If he hadn’t become a journalist, she suspected he would have become a politician. Though thinking about it now, there was still time for him to do that. “Do I have to?” She lowered her hands and looked hopefully at the laptop screen. Irma gave her a sympathetic look and nodded slowly. “Can’t the freelancer do it?”
“Burne’s not going to pay them one day more than he has to.”
April pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to take it?”
“Mmm you sure you want me to do that? You remember what happened last time I filled in for you."
“Yeah, but there were a few extenuating circumstances,” April pouted. “Oh well. Suppose I do have to pay the piper for getting to go on this trip. And it’s just a speech, not a press conference. Won’t have to interview anyone.”
“There you go, already thinking positively.” Irma smiled encouragingly. April wrinkled her nose in response. It certainly wasn’t the worst assignment she’d ever had, there’d been plenty of others that were far more unpleasant, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about it. At least it was still a couple weeks away yet. Knowing she had that to look forward to upon her return was even more incentive for April to enjoy her time away.
***
Raphael was regretting their decision to let Irma pick what they would watch for movie night. He knew it was unlikely she’d choose something with a lot of action or horror, but he was hoping for at least a comedy. Instead, she’d brought over some period romance, saying it was an adaptation of one of her favorite books. She must have the movie memorized because he saw her mouthing some of the lines along with the actors several times. And there was a lot of talking in this movie – that was pretty much all it was. Michelangelo seemed to be the only one actually enjoying it and following the incoherent plot. Raphael could barely understand the flowery dialogue and was bored out of his mind. Leonardo was watching politely but Raphael could tell by the bland look on his face he was bored as well. As for Donatello, Raphael wouldn’t be surprised if he was treating it as a documentary on human dating behavior.
“So let me get this straight,” Raphael pointed at the screen where the two main characters were sniping at each other again. “This whole thing is about how much these two hate each other?”
“Not quite,” Irma said. “I mean, no they don’t like each other now. Mostly. He’s starting to fall for her, except he doesn’t know it yet. She won’t start liking him until later.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Raphael grumbled. “How do you not know you like someone? You either do or you don’t.”
“That’s the whole point of the story. They both made snap judgements about each other and have to work to set their egos aside and see past their initial dislike. Once they do that, they realize the other person isn’t as bad as they originally thought. It’s like. . .” her expression turned distant while she thought of a good analogy. “Like anchovies on pizza. An acquired taste.”
“Except I know I don’t like anchovies, so why would I force myself to keep eating them?”
“Shh Raphael! We’re trying to watch!” Leonardo reprimanded. Raphael shot him a look that said he knew very well the other turtle wasn’t enjoying the movie either, then crossed his arms and slid down into the couch. Much as he might want to get up and leave, he wasn’t going to be that rude to Irma. As the movie dragged on, he started counting down the days in his head until April would be home. She at least appreciated the spectacle of a good explosion or well-choreographed fight scene and didn’t go in for this sappy romance stuff. Well, not usually anyway. There was that period a little while back when she’d suddenly been very serious about dating. She’d been miserable the entire time, so he was secretly glad when she had given it up just as quickly.
Irma sighed dramatically at something one of the characters in the movie said and Raphael rolled his eyes. Michelangelo’s comic book movies were more believable than this fluffy nonsense. Splinter did not share Raphael’s view when the turtles discussed the movie with their sensei a few days later.
“Emotions are complicated things, and they’re never fixed. Many great works of art depict the influence they can have on thoughts and actions. Shakespeare’s Othello is about how jealously can drive apart people who once cared deeply for each other, to tragic ends.” His ears drooped sadly. “I know very well the extremes to which one can be driven by jealousy.”
“That was different,” Raphael said defensively. “And kinda the opposite of what we’re talking about here.”
The old rat laughed softly and patted his student’s shoulder. “They are very similar. You would know better than most that reason very rarely comes into play when one feels something very strongly.” At Raphael’s uncertain look, Splinter continued, “You’re still young and have much to learn about the world. In time, you’ll understand that people are very rarely entirely one thing or another.”
Raphael nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure what Splinter was trying to say. He decided it was best to trust their sensei knew what he was talking about. Splinter had, after all, been human once upon a time.
***
The State of the City address was usually held in January just after the New Year, but for some reason April couldn’t remember it had been pushed back to the spring. The new mayor had also made the decision to hold the address in the middle of the day outside City Hall instead of in the evening at Symphony Hall as all the City’s mayors had done for as long as anyone could remember. The reason he’d given for the change was it demonstrated his commitment to serving the City and its residents. His predecessor had been highly criticized for being largely absent from city government during the final years of his term. By holding the speech at City Hall, the new mayor could fulfill his obligation and get right back to work afterward. His critics, meanwhile, argued the breaking of tradition was a sign of his inexperience. He was young, the youngest person to hold the office in the City’s history, and there were some that questioned whether he was suited for the role. It was the sort of theater and controversy the political junkies lived for, but it meant absolutely nothing to April. All she really cared about was her stomach which was reminding her, loudly, it was time for lunch.
City Hall was a hideous concrete building shaped something like a long, inverted pyramid. The upper floors jutting out from the sides cast odd shadows on the sprawling red-brick plaza surrounding it. A portable stage had been set up in front of the main entrance, empty at the moment except for a wooden podium and the flag of the city waving gently in the slight breeze. Rows of white folding chairs had been set up in front of the stage for the city officials, business leaders, and other esteemed guests that had assembled to hear the mayor’s address.
April dug out the little bag of pretzels she’d found in her purse that morning, probably stuck in there during her flight either to or from California, and munched on them absently while she stood in the corner of the plaza reserved for the media, waiting for the address to begin. She was the only one there from Channel 6. Since the speech was only supposed to last an hour at most, she thought she could handle it herself without someone else to operate the camera. As her stomach growled again, she wished she had brought one of the cameramen with her if only so she could send them off to get some sandwiches.
At last, the glass doors of City Hall opened. The mayor, wearing a dark black suit that matched his neatly combed hair, walked out alone and stepped up onto the stage. He opened the leather portfolio he was carrying and set it on the podium, adjusted his thin wire frame glasses, then offered a warm welcome to everyone in the audience. April pulled her phone out of her pocket far enough to sneak a peek at the time and made a rough estimate about when she could expect this to wrap up.
The mayor was barely ten minutes into his speech when a low rumbling sound started near the edge of the plaza. A disturbance of glowing blue light formed, then the air seemed to split and a squad of life-sized army men figures marched out of the hole. Except, these appeared to have been chiseled out of dark brown stone rather than molded out of green plastic. The soldiers began firing their blasters into the rows of chairs in front of the stage as they advanced. Anything hit by those shots - bricks, chairs, and the podium - was reduced to a pile of dust. Screams and terrified yells erupted from the audience at they scrambled up from their seats and jostled each other running as fast as they could away from the blasts. A group of soldiers split off and rushed forward to surround the mayor while another group corralled the members of the press. When everyone else had been driven out of the plaza, the soldiers directed their prisoners toward City Hall.
“Great. Covering this event was bad enough without being taken hostage by rock soldiers,” April grumbled under her breath as she and the rest of the press corps were channeled into the building with their hands raised. “When I get back to the office, I’m going to break Vernon’s other foot.”