|
01.
Prelude / 8:07 AM |
06.
8:39 AM |
|
01.
Prelude / 8:07 AM |
06.
8:39 AM |
“We’re not the guardians of society, Raphael... we
never were.”
- TMNT Vol. 1,
#19
YEARS EARLIER. . .
SEPTEMBER 11th, 2001
8:07 AM EST
It was a cool Tuesday morning in the Big Apple, the sky clearer than it had been, the air... well, most New Yorkers would tell a person that you either get used to the air or you don’t.
Chang Lao stood absentmindedly on the freshly-painted basketball court just down the block from the New York flat he was presently calling his home, aiming for a three-pointer with his basketball in hand. Aside from the fact that the shoelace on one of his wingtips was untied, his stance was perfect; he obviously knew what he was doing. Lao shot the ball and swish — ball went through net and bounced back towards him.
"Nice shot, brutha!" a passer-by behind the fencing in a matching Adidas outfit shouted.
"Thanks!" Lao called back, grinning. Coming to this court every once in a while never did fail to relieve a bit of his daily stress.
Even when he was a child, not more than seven years of age, Lao had liked to play basketball when he got the chance. He didn’t find it hard to learn or get good at and he had made the team the first day of tryouts in Junior High and later in High School. Ever since beginning his career after college Lao’s reign over the courts was a forgotten thing, forgotten right beside the days when the city bullies reigned over him.
"Ah, those were the days..." After a long, wistful sigh of thoughtful reflection, Lao shot the ball again. Another swoosh.
He shot the ball yet again, expecting to hear the familiar clink of the ball against the chain net but instead, this time he heard the noise of another basketball knocking into his, sending his own ball flying away. "Hey, what the hell’s your..." Lao started as he went to retrieve the ball before seeing just who was standing there.
"Problem?" His good friend Donatello, in the flesh, was standing a few feet away from him. As he tossed off his baseball cap he noticed he had his red bandana tied not over his eyes but around his forehead as a skullcap and was clad head to toe in sweat attire. Lao glanced up at his face and the two made eye contact. "Chang Lao, good to see you!"
"Hey, hey." Lao cracked a grin, beginning to dribble his basketball in front of him. "Here for another friendly game, Don?"
Donatello returned the grin. He still couldn’t believe the same young kid he’d taught to defend himself against common hoodlums those many years ago had become the spry adult that was offering him such good competition in their frequent basketball bouts. "Hey, why not? Just stepped out for a moment from the lair... family problems, y’know, that sort of thing."
"All right, cool," Lao said with a smile. "You know I’m always down for a challenge. Gotta make it quick, though... you wouldn’t believe the workload I’ve got ahead of me this week, the pressure’s killing me. It’s insane." He nodded emphatically to the briefcase he’d set on the park bench, right beside his sports jacket and tie. "In fact, if I don’t get in to work in about one hour for my department’s presentation — which you better believe I stayed up all night working on — you better also believe I’m as good as gone."
"Oh that’s right... you’re a career man now." Donatello chuckled. "Listen to you."
"Yeah, nine to five, Christmas bonuses, the whole shebang."
"Good for you, Lao." Don reached out and gave Lao a hearty one-armed brotherly hug. "I always knew you’d make it, kid. Proud of you."
Lao nodded. "That I even survived my childhood in this city I owe to you so much... what you taught me. If I can make the most of my life every day since... that, I feel, is the best way to honor your gift."
"Aw, now you’re talking like a whiner now!"
Lao winced. "Whu-what?"
"Hah!" With that, Don flung the ball at Lao. His hope to catch Lao off-guard didn’t work, and Lao instinctively caught it and ran in for a layup. Donatello blocked and knocked the ball from his grasp. Lao swore and tried to grab the ball, but missed and his hand brushed against Donatello’s shell. Lao’s face flushed as Donatello’s head whipped around mock-angrily. He shoved Lao in the stomach and ran towards his hoop, stopping at the three point line. Lao got up and went after him, getting in his face.
At one point Donatello was lining up for a three-pointer when Lao jumped in front of him. Don took a step back, not letting go of the ball. "Travel!" Lao declared. Donatello narrowed his eyes and shoved the ball at Lao, who responded by taking another step forward.
For some time they continued, neither one gaining a significant advantage until the agile Lao shoved his way through Don to get a decisive slam dunk.
Taking off his bandana, Donatello wiped the sweat from his brow. "Whoo... good game. Must be getting old, you handing my shell to me like this."
Lao shook his head. "You went easy on me, my friend, but that’s all right."
The two exchanged a bow of mutual respect as they usually did whenever they parted ways, then Lao began gathering his things off the park bench. "Wish we could continue, Donatello, but I have to head to work now. Thank you for the workout."
"Anytime, anywhere, kid — and you better believe there’s going to be a rematch. Take care of yourself... and hold onto your lunch money!" Don gave a laugh.
"Oh yes, I will. You, too."
As he heard Chang Lao starting up his car nearby and heading out, Donatello picked up his basketball began taking some practice shots himself. He practiced for nearly half an hour before deciding to take a quick breather.
Resting on the bench a moment, removing the water bottle from his belt, his foot accidentally kicked something under the bench.
Chang Lao’s briefcase! In his haste to get to work he must have completely forgotten about it.
"Man... I don’t know if Chang Lao’s new bosses are going to like him showing up for work without his presentation stuff... hmmm..." Donatello paused for a moment. "No biggie, no biggie... I’ll just call him on his cell phone and let him know before it’s too late..." Rifling through the deep pockets of his sweat pants he retrieved his own cell phone — or more accurately Casey’s (who had taken the liberty of setting all the Turtles up with a family plan in his good name the previous Christmas). Clumsily pecking through the menu on his phone with great difficulty with his three oversized fingers, he eventually navigated his way to Chang Lao’s name on his call list. "Damn cell phones getting smaller all the time..." Don muttered, pressing the "Call" button over Chang Lao’s name.
A moment passed, then suddenly a loud, rhythmic noise nearby startled Don.
"Aw, shit..."
The noise was coming from Lao’s briefcase... the kid had left his cell phone inside it. Obviously on vibrate.
Donatello took a deep breath, ended his call, and picked up the briefcase. Storing his basketball under the bench for the time being he headed toward the street as he began pecking on his cell phone to dial a taxi cab.
"Chang Lao," Don said to himself with a shake of his head, "you’re going to owe me one, kid..."
[ NEXT CHAPTER | BACK TO MENU ]
