Officially, these are the re-written version of TAM.
For those who already read the story, please forgive me for all the mistakes I've made before I decided to find a beta and help me a bit so that I can improve my writing skills. And for those who started to read the story now, I hope you enjoy it a lot. Updates will be a bit slow since school and final exams to get into College, called in Greece Panhellenic Exams, are pressing and hold me back from writing. This will be for almost a year and after I'm done, updates will be more and faster, I guess.
My character, Rowan Fox, looks like Elle Fanning(one of the actresses I like) only with red hair, icy blue eyes and snow white skin. Most of my OC's look like an actor or singer and also there will be some songs, scenes that come out of my head and extra AU chapters that connect with the previous chapter and the whole story. Think of it as a book, not a fic. It's a book.
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New York City, five years ago
Rowan Fox was passionate. Shy. Sensitive. A cute and beautiful young girl.
But she was a huge mystery.
Her eyes went on the magazine which was laid on the table. Her own face was on the cover, big and quite nice. Her scarlet red hair was falling on her shoulders, messy, reaching down her small breasts. Her icy blue eyes had a playful shine on and her lips smiled to the camera and to the reader.
She was wearing a navy blue dress with its sleeves reaching her elbows. Her milky white skin stunned out and shone under the light and flash of the camera. Even if that outfit showed that she looked older and mature, in fact, she was still a 10 year old girl. A cute 10 year old girl.
Rowan read the main title; a smirk crossed on her lips. On the side of the cover, there was a part of her interview (included into the magazine, some pages later) that the journalist might, liked.
Rowan Fox: Ten, but inspiring, the title said.
"We children have rights and dreams," the given part of the interview was saying, "We just need the right motivation".
Her small mouth hid behind a big white cup of hot chocolate (ah, tasty). Her eyes scanned the small cafe and, satisfied, she saw that it was still half- empty. Most of the customers were those alcoholic people who couldn't go to their work without a glass of whiskey. That was the good of all things; nobody knew this young girl and how famous she was. Fans were annoying at times.
But it was also sure that he wouldn't find her.
She flipped the pages lazily until she reached the one of her interview. For what she was interested in were her pictures on the pages, not the text. The journalist, a kind and very sharp minded woman to her opinion, had asked every question this text had. Plus, Rowan knew that she would never change anything on her answers.
The first photo was showing her giving a thumbs up, while she was winking. The camera was focused on her thumb and the rest of her was blurred. Okay, she liked that photo. But, the other photos seemed to bore her. So boring that she flipped the pages until the last page of the magazine. And, anyway, she should have known better with what kind of photographer she was working with. And before you can ask, yes, that was the one who picked these photos.
For her, this man was one of the rudest and much less intelligent than her. She could say the exact same words for those who dressed her up and did her makeup. Such selfish and motherfuckers. And the fact that they treated her like she was another 10 year old child who had some glory, ticked her off. Was she asking a lot from the human kind? She didn't think so.
"I'm sorry..."
Rowan's head lifted up so fast that scared the waitress- just two meters away from her. Her chocolate brown eyes were widened to saucers which caused Rowan to frown a little.
"We're about to close," the woman explained after calming down, "Can you pay for your chocolate?"
"Yes, sure," Rowan replied and took out from a pocket of her blue jeans a 10 dollar bill. When she noticed that the woman tried to give her the rest, she added, "I don't bother getting the rest. All yours."
A mumbled thank you came to her ears the moment the young dancer stood up and took her large and full backpack. It was heavy for her small shoulders but that cared her less; her thoughts were running elsewhere.
"Hey, wait!"
Her hand stopped upon the knob of the heavy glass door. Her velvet red head turned back and looked at the waitress questionably.
"You forgot your magazine!" she heard, seeing her hand waving the magazine.
Rowan's smile was as sweet as a candy. "I don't need it anymore," she replied, "Keep it for yourself."
Then, she was gone.
The waitress took a glance at the front page. She did it once more when she understood something. The girl in the photo was the exact same as that kind girl who left. Her eyes widened for one more time that day and her mouth gaped open as she thought again and again:
I saw Rowan Fox! I saw Rowan Fox! I saw Rowan Fox!
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The sewers were stinking.
It was a smell that churned Rowan's stomach so hard that she felt that she would vomit any moment. She had to be strong, though. Even if she thought that she was walking on human's dirtiness, she tried to remain calm and very careful. And, anyway, sewers were the only sure place of hiding. Why?
Long story.
So far, the only sound she heard -and echoed around the dark piles- were her boots, walking through sewage waters of New York. Her flashlight was her personal guide through the darkness but kind of unsure. And, gross, the smell had gotten worse.
Fuck, she thought disgusted, this smell is ten times worse than a unwashed person! No, wait, 100 times worse.
Her free hand brought up to the bridge of her nose the green t-shirt she was wearing. It didn't help that much though. She was sure that the oxygen was at its low down there and there were few chances of surviving with that ugly smell. And she clearly had no idea how she would do it.
A weak orange light, coming from a pipe, originated hope in Rowan's heart. Her steps stopped in front of it, a minute later. Rowan took a look of it, sizing it and came up to the conclusion that she and her bag couldn't fit together. So, the first thing she did was to throw inside that pipe her backpack and then, she jumped in. She could feel the cold air hitting her face and her body hair raising up. The oxygen was stronger there and Rowan inhaled it with pleasure as she was glad that it didn't smell like poop.
The process took less than a minute, as much Rowan needed to glide through the pipe, move her stuff and jump off it. She took another heavy breath, wanting to get as much oxygen as she could before taking her backpack and placing it on her shoulders again.
She then gazed around the new surrounding, realizing that she was inside an old subway railway. She started to walk again, this time more unsure of where this would lead her. But she was happy that she found a sure placement of hiding from humans and others and she praised herself and her good luck for this.
When she saw another white light stunning out from the orange one, Rowan's lips drew a smile that couldn't even hide her happiness and her deep relief. She walked closer to that light and what she saw, left her speechless.
It was an old subway station which was turned into a cozy house, warm and totally safe. There was an old type of television, a punching bag, an arcade and many pillows around a small square that she believed was a sofa-like thing. Her smile grew bigger and her hands raised up in the air.
"I love ME!" she yelled with such happiness that no other human would have felt.
She literally ran inside there and threw her backpack to a corner. She sat on the couch and tried not to feel so excited. Yet, her tiredness couldn't draw away her whole energy, which caused her to yawn.
She quickly snatched one of the pillows and rested her head and then used a jacket of hers as a blanket. She closed her eyes, thanking God for giving her such luck and she passed out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If it wasn't Michelangelo's yelp of surprise, nobody would have noticed the sleeping girl on the couch.
The four young brothers drew close to her, admiring her and being -sort of- afraid. They had never seen a human live and that excited their interest at high.
"Whoa..." Michelangelo spoke first, "I never thought that humans can actually sleep!"
Raphael groaned in annoyance and slapped his younger brother's head for the tenth time that day. That made the orange clad to yelp in pain and Leonardo shushing them. "Don't you see that she's sleeping?!" he whispered in anger.
Donatello came closer to the girl while his brothers argued -silently of course. He admired the way her skin was shining under the light; unusual and so unique. Her hair also had an unusual color: red velvet, like blood. Had she dyed them? Maybe. Or-
His thoughts pulled into a pause when one of the girl's fists found his face. Donatello made some steps backwards, yelping in pain while he covered his nose with both hands as he bleeded. The other three stopped arguing and looked at their brother with shock. Their shock had gotten bigger when they watched the girl awake and her body set into a defensive position. Her icy blue eyes (also unique) narrowed deadly to them and her features were stone cold.
"Who the fuck are you?" she asked in a low and deadly voice, "And what do you want from me?"
Despite being shocked, Leonardo took a step forward and looked at her right into her eyes. For him such a reaction was normal as he knew that a human eye wasn't used to seeing mutants and, also, in true vision. And that is why they were hidden down there.
But... how did she find the lair?! More likely, how did she end up in the sewers?
"Look, miss," he began to say but he stopped when he saw the girl running towards him. The next moment he found himself flying back and smashing onto his brothers. A synced groan of pain came off their mouths while she took her previous defensive pose.
"I'm not willing to hear any of your stupid questions." she snapped, "I demand you to answer mine, now."
She felt a hint of wind hitting the back of her neck and she turned around, facing another mutant. This time, he was a tall humanoid rat with a red brown male kimono and a staff made of emerald glass. She felt cold sweat running down her spine but she refused to give up. If these freaks were creations of who she had in mind, she would better kill them rather than getting captured.
She attacked.
Her main target were his legs. Since that rat was taller than her, the only solution was this.
But she forgot an important piece: he had a tail.
From the one moment to another, she felt herself flying in the air -only for two seconds- and then she landed hard on her back, the exact same way the turtles were. Splinter's staff was pointed on her chest, catching on all the light of the room.
She looked at his eyes.
Aside from the sparkle of impress, she noticed the wisdom he had gained through the years and the skills. His eye color -red brown- reminded her something, strongly. A flash of memory passed through her eyes and, the next moment, they widened. She remembered exactly where she had seen that type of eyes. Not once, zillions of times.
"No shit..." she whispered in awe as Splinter took away his staff, offering a hand.
She hesitated.
"I will not hurt you," he promised.
Oh, what the hell, she thought and gave her hand. Her palm fitted perfectly into his as his grip tightened around it and he pulled his strength to lift her up.
Now it was time for Splinter to watch her closely. Her eyes, to be exact. Their unique color reminded him of somebody; and he knew who very well.
"Thanks," he heard her telling.
He smiled softly at her, forgiving of her earlier action. "You are welcome, young one. Tell me, what is your name?"
The turtles drew closer, more confident now than before. The girl gave a side glance at them before she stared into Splinter's eyes once more.
"Well, my name's Rowan. Rowan Fox. Nice to meet you."