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ʙʀᴏᴏᴋʟʏɴ ʜǫ.
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"𝔸𝕃ℝ𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋 Red, be honest here, you have got to tell me where you learned those sick moves!" Casey exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and striking an odd rock pose after.

It had been about two weeks since I first introduced myself to April O'Neil. Things had gone far better than I expected, she became the missing piece to myself and Casey's picture. Our third musketeer. Our third stooge. The dressing to our sandwich.

All weird metaphors aside, the three of us were inseperable.

Even so, it became apparent early on that April was hiding something big. And it was something far bigger than my amnesia or any normal issue—no, this had to do with the fact that she had been able to take down a fully grown mugger with her Tessen.

The Tessen itself was another issue. I mean why was she even carrying around a weapon?

Actually, I cannot speak seeing as I carry around a taser courtesy of my mother. However, this was no normal weapon for protection that April was carrying, this was some full-on wack ninja shit.

Well, Casey and I officially wanted answers. The curiosity was now too great. And so, that was how we ended up sitting in the front yard of the school after hours, all of us under a large cherry tree.

It was slightly windy causing my loose hair to ruffle, the noise of the city almost peaceful in the background to our conversation. The days, just as I had previously guessed, had taken on a chilly turn.

While it was not so cold it was unbearable to be outside, it was definitely too chilly to be wearing shorts. Or at least, in my opinion, it was. April still wore her denim shorts, the redhead seeming immune to the cold breeze.

"Yeah, O'Neil," I pushed a stray strand of brown hair behind my ear, "what's the deal?"

April seemed almost nervous, but she smiled anyway. She playfully nudged her shoulder with mine before shrugging.

"Oh, I just kind of picked it up—"

We cut her off with groans.

"C' mon, we're not going to buy that shit!"

"Yeah, what's the real reason?"

April paused, her face contorting with an odd look, as though she were thinking. She appeared to be torn for a second before her shoulders slumped and she gave in to whatever mental debate she was having with herself.

"Okay, but you guys need to promise me you won't tell anyone," she explained, her voice taking on that of a hushed whisper.

Casey and I glanced at each other before simultaneously nodding.

"Promise," we spoke in unison.

"No, seriously, guys," April had never looked more serious, "swear on your life!"

What. The. Fuck?

I hesitated but Casey full-sent it.

"I swear on my life, now tell meeeee!" He dragged out the last word before grabbing April's arm desperately.

However, April was staring at me, waiting for my answer. Eventually, I sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair from in front of my face, and gave in.

"I swear on my life," I finally promised, the words serving as a deeper meaning of my loyalty to her.

Even to my mother who had been very adamant about making sure I always told her the truth about everything and never lied.

April relaxed slightly before her eyes darted to our surroundings. School had been out for about thirty minutes now and most of the student population had already gone. The only ones left were those who had afterschool activities.

She turned back to us while leaning in: Casey and I did the same.

"Okay, I'm training to be a..." April started in a voice that had us on the edges of our seats.

"A...?" Casey repeated.

"A kunoichi!"

"A kunoichi?" Casey and I repeated, confusion evident in our voices.

"A female ninja," April explained a second later, her eyes lighting up with pride at the looks of astonishment we threw her.

"Wicked!"

"Woah, where?"

"I can't tell you guys," April said, albeit sheepishly, "it's kind of a secret that I can't spill,"

"Red," Casey leaned back, "you just became like ten times cooler,"

April blushed at the compliment; however, before either of us could say anything more the sound of a loud engine pulling up grasped our attention. My eyebrows raised at the sight of a familiar car, a black expensive muscle car with incredibly tinted windows.

Had Whitney not worked for the government, I can guarantee those windows would be considered tinted to an illegal extent.

I silently reminded myself that Whitney was not to be called Whitney by me but Mom.

Mom rolled down the passenger window as April and Casey's jaws dropped and their eyes took on an excited gleam. Most would look that way when they saw my mother's car. Working for the CIA seriously had some perks.

"Hey guys," Mom greeted us from her place on the curb, the car's engines now an idle purr.

"Whitney!" Casey cheered at the same time April had yelled out, "Whit!"

Seriously, everyone loved my mother.

"Mom?" I sounded more confused than anything.

It was a given that I normally walked home or took the subway. Plus, she had not even texted me that she would be picking me up.

"Sorry to cut this party short," my mother moved her sunglasses down so they rested at the tip of her nose, "but Andi, you have a doctor's appointment. Doctor Spearson had to move it from tomorrow to today..."

There were a few code words in that sentence which I immediately understood. I had to go to Brooklyn CIA headquarters for a head check in my memory process. Furthermore, Doctor Spearson most likely has some government business to attend to which bumped my appointment from tomorrow to now.

However, I did not dare utter this out loud, instead, I nodded while standing up and swinging my backpack over my shoulder.

"Sorry guys, I'll see you in school tomorrow," I gave my friend's an apologetic look before heading to my mother's car.

"No worries, we'll see you tomorrow Andi!" April called as Casey practically bounced in my spot.

"Yeah, bye, Andi! And Whitney, you'll need to give me a swing in that sweet ride of yours sometime, and I can show you what a sweet ride I can be too!" Casey waggled his eyebrows suggestively before April hit him over the top of the head and I scoffed.

My mother rolled her eyes but there was a faint trace of an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Don't make me kick your ass, Jones," she threatened as I hopped into the nice leather seat.

The interior was even nicer than the outside with blue bio-lights lighting up the car and a screen upfront. It was a real and true spy car.

With my mother's parting words, she rolled up the passenger window as I waved goodbye to the two. Gripping the stick-shift, she put the car in the drive before the engine roared to life and we blasted away from the curb.

Thankfully, we would miss most of the traffic as my mother knew the best roads to take in order to get to Brooklyn as quickly as physically possible.

___________

"So tell me, Andi," I laid back on a soft rubber examination table, squinting at the light shining in my eyes, "any new discoveries? Memories, skills, thoughts even?"

I frowned in response to Doctor Spearson, considering his words. Brooklyn CIA headquarters was a spherical 60 level skyscraper in the middle of Brooklyn. It was huge with secrets lying around every single corner.

Even a seasoned agent such as my mother did not know the half of it. To make an attempt at trying to explain how these agents take care of me is a complication in itself. Because to be frank, I do not know most of it myself.

What I do know is that one day I woke up under a bright white light in a sterile hospital room. I was alone and scared, but soon I learned that I was in a terrible car wreck a week earlier. I was the only survivor.

It put me in a six-day coma, but the majority of the damage was internal. We all figured that out when they realized that I did not remember a single thing. From there things started calming down, and their questions were not quite as odd.

Eventually, after a lengthy three-and-a-half month stay, I was released. Mom took me back home to New York where my health-checks and therapy were relocated to the Brooklyn CIA location. Doctor Spearson followed us here, a single doctor of the group which worked with me back at the hidden Colorado facility.

I blinked up at the middle-aged man.

"No," I reconsidered, "well actually, I found out that I can do some gymnastics, back handsprings mostly—a few flips,"

"Really?" Doctor Spearson was interested, just as he always was in everything that I did.

He quickly began typing it in his laptop.

"You never told me I did gymnastics, Mom," I turned to my mother who stood in the corner.

She shifted uncomfortably before a forced smile made its way upon her lips. "Oh yeah, you did gymnastics until you were twelve—it would make sense you could still do some skills, you were pretty talented!"

I arched an eyebrow at her odd tone in which she used to speak to me. Some things, actually scratched that—many things, that I was told by my mother and the rest of the CIA simply were strange, suspicious, or altogether just did not add up.

"Oh, do you have any pictures?"

"No!"

I jumped at her tone but was not surprised. Never did my mom have any pictures, according to her she hated photos and anything else that involved physical documentation. The number of times I had tried asking for a photo to jog my memory was ridiculous at this point. However, the answer was always the same.

No.

Doctor Spearson swallowed before closing his laptop and shoving his hands through some gloves.

"Alright," he started, "I think it's best if we try and delve into that memory of yours..."

We did this every single week and it had not worked since the day I woke up. Not one single memory was recovered.

Even at times where I thought something might look the slightest bit familiar, it seemed to only cause a panic attack at the suppressed memories being disturbed. It seemed that my subconscious mind rather enjoyed living this oblivious lifestyle.

I nodded in response, listening to the doctor's smooth voice speak.

"Take a deep breath, allow your mind to draw blank," he ordered, myself doing as I was told, "close your eyes..."

My eyes closed on their own accord, white spots dancing around from the bright light being randomly cut off.

There was a moment of silence.

"Now what?" This was getting boring as shit.

"Still nothing?"

"Nope,"

"Okay," Doctor Spearson mumbled for a few moments, "try thinking of anything that feels familiar?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, keeping my eyes closed.

"You have to try, kid," I heard my mother's voice with a light scolding tone.

"Well, excuse me! But seriously, I don't even know what I'm trying to remember, I literally have nothing to go off of!"

There was a beat of silence and I started to feel slightly guilty for snapping like that. But then Spearson spoke.

"Let's try something new, try thinking of Kansas—cornfields... space?"

"Doctor Spearson," I heard my mom say tightly, her words holding a warning.

"Kansas, cornfields, space? That's kind of random, don't you think, Doctor?" My voice held humor in it.

"Yeah..." he trailed off in a serious tone causing me to cringe at the sudden awkward silence.

Shaking my head, I decided to just play along.

Let's see, Kansas.

Kansas.

Kansas.

Kansas.

Small-minded people with small-minded shithole towns. Cows... lot's of cows. Probably weird-looking farmers too that hold pitch forks. Yeah... I don't think I ever want to visit Kansas.

And yet... cornfields and space? I mean... what the hell?

But wait... yeah, no, what the hell?

More like why the hell does my head hurt?

Kansas, Cornfields... and space.

"Going down..."

My own voice was screaming.

"Can't stop... entering atmosphere too fast!"

There was so much fire, so much fear. I was falling. Both metaphorically and literally.

My chest constricted, I can't breathe. I knew what was happening, a panic attack came so suddenly that I could do nothing to even try and curve it.

Oh God... it hurts.

My eyes snapped open and I was not in the darkness but rather back in the examination room. I shot up, my breaths coming out in short gasps as tears blurred my vision. I clutched a hand to my chest, desperately trying to breathe.

Why the fuck was there not enough air? Fuck New York City for being so polluted!

Not only that, but what was that noise? That horrible screeching that would not shut up! Then I realized that it was not a what but rather a who. And who just so happened to be myself.

I was screaming bloody murder, withering around on the examination table. It was then I took note of Doctor Spearson and my mother holding me down desperately trying to coax me. However, I was too far gone.

It was as though I was standing beside my body watching as everything fell apart but able to doing nothing about it. I tossed my head back, crying and screaming and sobbing and trying to make them let go!

"Let me go! Help me! Mother! Mother! Help!"

"I'm here, I'm right here," Whitney was doing her best to soothe me and yet I feel like we both knew the truth.

Even as I yelled for my mother, for some reason it was not Whitney who I was crying for. But if not Whitney, then who?

Perhaps we would never know.

"Please someone... help! It's going too fast, I can't control it!"

"What? What's going too fast, Andi?" It was Doctor Spearson.

"I don't know!" I sobbed.

"Andi!" Whitney yelled out my name, but it was not in a mean manner.

"I don't know, I think it might be the car—it's going too fast! I'm going to crash! Help!"

I wasn't breathing right, there is not enough air!

"I think I'm dying!" I sobbed.

"You're not dying!"

"I WILL KILL YOU ALL!"

"ANDI!"

And yet, my vision was turning black and fading around the corners. From there it was as though it was a downward spiral, my lungs collapsed.

Light outs.

__________

...So yeah, perhaps I did have a few issues. But it was nothing I could not handle. The question truthfully came down to whether or not the people around me would be able to handle it. My mother never said it out loud, but I had a sneaking suspicion that my case was absolutely killing her.

She already had to deal with her hippie gross boyfriend. A defective daughter was just the cherry on top.

Myself and those around are not strangers to what happened earlier today. It was a panic attack... well a certain type of panic attack. While many people tended to fall apart during panic attacks, I fell apart while also lashing out violently. It was not good mix and should the wrong people be around when it happened then someone could easily get hurt.

My mother and Doctor Spearson are highly-trained CIA agents capable of handling me during such a violent period. However, should say—Casey Jones—have been trying to handle that, he might just walk away with a broken limb or two.

When those panic attacks came, my mind was puddle of confusion. And confusion turns to violence—that is why Doctor Spearson says I lash out so bad. That along with fear from the accident.

I, personally, could not wrap my head around how a car accident could leave such horrible scars. Yeah, sure everything affected everyone differently, but no matter how terrible the wreck was there was no chance that it could have been so traumatising my mind simply refused to acknowledge it even happened.

Yet, here I was with a mind that should it so much as catch a glimpse of the memories it immediately causes the rest of my body to shut down.

I sighed at the thought, slumping over. The twinkling city of New York shown brightly, many lights visible from my view sitting on the roof of my apartment. I sat at the edge, my legs carelessly dangling off and swinging.

"Man, this sucks," I grumbled, still sour over the fact that no matter what I did, it seemed the memories were gone forever.

"On the bright side," I turned faster than the speed of light only to see my mother holding out a steaming cup of hot chocolate, "Doctor Spearson says that it is plainly obvious the memories are not gone, just repressed,"

"And that's good how?" I quirked a brow, eagerly taking the hot chocolate from my mother.

She casually rested an elbow on my head causing me to groan and move out from under her. She snickered in response before messing up my hair causing me to let out a louder even more obnoxious groan.

"It's good because that means it's just a matter of forcing your mind to stop repressing those memories. As long as they are not lost then there is a high chance that they will come back to you," she explained as I slurped the hot chocolate.

"Well, if you say so," I shrugged, turning back to look at the lights.

My mom scoffed a laugh while turning away, "don't stay out here too late, you have school tomorrow..." she paused to shiver, "plus it's cold,"

I winked at her while throwing a goofy salute, "yes, ma'am,"

She shook her head before turning and walking back through the door that lead to the lower levels. Once she was gone, I focused back on the city of New York, peering around curiously. For as much credit that people gave the city for never having one dull moment, it also never changed.

From my perspective at least, it was the city which never changed. Then again, according to Casey and April there were ninjas and mutant-animal monsters running around (which I have never so much as caught a glimpse of, might I add).

Just as that thought crossed my head and I took a sip of my hot chocolate, the sound of wild excited yelling met my ears. I nearly spit out my drink then and there as I watched a group of oddly shaped figures that looked almost human leap from rooftop to rooftop right across the street.

There were four in total, all moving incredibly quickly and smooth. Laughter and cheers erupted from the group, each performing their own little tricks and spins. Though they appeared odd, they sounded human-enough from what I could pick up.

"Woo-hoo!"

"Did you guys see that... I mean did you see that?!"

"Hell yeah! We beat those suckers up!"

"Great elbow, Donnie!"

"Time to celebrate with some pizza!"

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! This is our city, these are our streets!"

"You mess with us, you step into the Wu-Tang!"

"That's what I'm talking about brothers, like shadows in the night—completely unseen!"

They all had distinct voices and tones, but I could not even hope to guess which voice emerged from which figure. Especially as they were passing by so quickly. We were not close to the center busier parts of New York City, so it was rather dead on the streets below leaving the figures to pass mostly unseen.

Well, obviously other than me... idiots.

"Yeah, maybe if you would all shut up! We're supposed to be quiet guys, so be quiet!"

"bE qUiEt!" I heard someone mock the previous who spoke earning a sharp growl in response.

I was unable to hear the reply; however, for the figures had now completely passed by and were way too far ahead for me to clearly hear. I watched as the figures faded until there was nothing.

"Welp," I took one last sip, downing the rest of the warm drink, "there's something you don't see every day,"