Chapter Text
Stupid.
Amateur. Stupid.
For once he couldn't be more thankful his brothers weren't around, to point and laugh at him for idiotically strolling into a trap as obvious as this one. He was distracted, alert and cautious as he sensed the dangerous presence of people nearby. No doubt a handful of those 'ghost hunters' as they dubbed themselves; a group of well trained men with guns and dicey equipment who have made it their goal to catch a so-called ghost that had moved into the area within the passing months.
The Ghost of the Jungle. That is the title the local villagers neighbouring the area had given him, for he 'appears out of nowhere only to vanish without a trace'. No one has ever seen his face, only the flick and whoosh of a cloak as he leaves the scene of another crime stopped, or the claimed sightings of a dark figure hiding within the trees that had become the norm around Costa Rica.
This proclaimed ghost didn't know what was more scoff worthy, the idea that these people believed in such things as spirits and entities, or the corniness of the title itself. He supposed it was better than the usual he heard back in New York, 'monster', 'freak', but still- a part of him wished their creative minds came up with something just a little bit more realistic.
However, what his representation had become in this new world became a minor issue when these men banded together to hunt him down. He didn't know who they were or where they came from, but he got the sense they weren't from around these parts. With their big dirt-track Ranger Raptor filled with tents and survival gear, and the fact they had seemingly appeared out of nowhere one day, it gave him the impression they had travelled quite a bit just for him.
Which would have been almost flattering if it wasn't such a pain in the ass.
Leo wasn't entirely sure what their reasoning for this hassle was, if it was to prove to the nonbelievers such a 'ghost' exists, if it was to disprove the myth of a ghost with evidence it was something logical and living, or if it was for mere bragging rights. Because surely having captured this entity that so far has remained unseen and mostly undetected would grant them such, it would be a mark of achievement for sure. The Ghost of the Jungle, a creature so transparent some believe to only be a myth or a spooky story for late nights around a campfire, brought to his knees by man.
That was the most logical explanation for their sudden interest in his existence, or presumed lack of, but he didn't exactly know any of them to officially ask them and get an answer. He didn't care enough, anyway.
For the first few months he had a hang of this group, they were clearly unaware of his movement patterns, unsure how to go about capture. Their traps, although masterfully set up and hidden, were easily detectable to a trained ninja. They would surely catch an unsuspecting deer or bear, but not a turtle with extreme caution ingrained in his very being. Especially when dealing with a such a threat.
The problem became huge when these men finally clicked that their ghost was no amateur.
They started being smarter about their mission, their traps were getting harder to detect and avoid. Not only that, but all of a sudden there were so much more of them, especially in areas he frequented. They had built up a vague map of the places he spent most his time in and had turned them into death traps. They finally narrowed down on his movements and visitations, most likely with the help of new sightings villagers would go home with, and there would be no time until they caught up with him. He knew he had to flee further into the surrounding jungles for safety and temporarily leave these villages behind, even for a little while until these men gave up the hunt. If they ever would.
What was most worrying was that for some time now, occasionally he heard traces of what sounded like a heavy duty engine coming into earshot whenever he nestled down somewhere secluded for too long. At nights he heard it, circling his location like a shark stalking a dinky wooden rowboat, waiting for the right moment to bare their dagger-sharp teeth and lunge for the attack.
He didn't know how it was even possible, but they were hot on his tail. It was as if they knew exactly what it was they were looking for and seeking him out was easy, and soon enough he found that he wasn't safe staying in any spot for more than a couple hours at a time. This made sleeping difficult, as they never seemed to, and he'd awake every night to the sound of dirt wheels ripping through the vegetation of the jungle floors, and he'd have to vacate the area immediately without being seen by the people who seemed to always be able to see him no matter where he was.
He had checked his old cloak top to bottom, inside and out several times for a tracking device, but never found anything. He had given his own body a quick one-over, but he figured if they had stuck it to his shell he wouldn't be able to get to it anyway.
Although he doubted that was the case, he strongly believed none of them had gotten anywhere close enough to tag him. He knew for a fact he hadn't had an encounter with any of them roaming, and if they happened to reach him while he was sleeping, somehow without waking him considering a mere sneeze from another room was enough to disturb his slumber, they'd just snag him.
His other thought was perhaps they had set up motion sensors around that'd tell them if he walked by. But then wouldn't any and every animal be setting them off? Not only that, if he had ventured further into new parts of the jungle he wasn't so familiar with, how could they have predicted he'd do that and spend that time setting up sensors this far out?
How they were tracking him so expertly was beyond him. Always right behind him, the sound of a vehicle trailing his every step like a monster hiding in the shadows, waiting to devour him. For the past few days, he had been nothing but on edge. Never stopping for more than a couple minutes, ducking from tree to tree to avoid the traps that had gotten almost impossible to seek out. It was even harder to detect them with the constant taunting droning of an engine in the back of his head, making it hard to think over the alarm bells always blaring inside, over the sleep deprivation that was starting to mount up and the nagging hunger pangs.
Then this morning, he finally made the stupid mistake that awakened a new level of shame within, as he was reaching for a plump ripe fruit sitting neatly underneath a tree. They were dropping from the canopies all the time, it wasn't unjustified to innocently assume it had broken from its branch, waiting for the first critter to come by and make use of the easy meal. Leo had become accustomed to the jungles of Central America within the many months of living in them, he had gotten used to finding his meals around trees and in nearby lakes.
The stupid part was that in his hunger driven rush for the fruit, he didn't see the covered bear trap waiting to sink its deadly spikes into its victim, for the pair of feet coming so dangerously close to its gaping maw. Fortunately, and a blessing above for the ninja, he was so alert to his surroundings that when his foot merely brushed against cold metal, his instincts clicked in and he had jerked back before the trap could snap and catch him.
What was unfortunate for him was that the deafening sound of the sets of teeth clamping together alerted the group he knew were so close by, the immediate revving of that damn engine telling him they were on the way.
It was only when he turned to book it did he feel a harsh tug around him that stopped him from going anywhere, and he spun back around to find his cloak had not made the escape from the trap. It was only a slither at the bottom, he had tugged the rest of the fabric free within no time to continue his departure, but that simple slip up while trying to fetch food would see the end of this long and tiring chase.
He had left solid evidence of his presence behind within the maw of steel, and he didn't have time to fish it out as he knew the men would be there any second. They knew where their own traps were, they knew where he was. And within this particular trap they'd find a ripped piece of brown cloth, the very one that had been reported being seen disappearing into thin air at the scenes of numerous failed crimes. The whole reason this Ghost of the Jungle legacy had begun in the first place.
And now, ripping through vegetation and tearing through the jungle with his cloak flapping almost elegantly behind him, he cursed his stupidity. That was the kind of mistake he had chastised Mikey for countless times in the past, with a strict lecture about the importance of minding your surroundings. There was danger everywhere, and with an existence such as theirs, they couldn't be making any dumb mistakes and risk getting caught in the open.
It was a full speech he had repeated so much he memorized every word- one he was now repeating in his mind, this time directed at no one but himself. All because his hunger had overpowered his sense of surroundings, the grumbling in his belly drowning out the common sense in his head. It was stupid, it was embarrassing.
Him, master of stealth and ninjutsu, prided himself with having insanely good awareness and observation. The turtle that never got snuck up on or caught off guard, his sense of surroundings so intense he could sense a presence and danger a mile away.
Almost walking foot first into a bear trap covered in greenery to reach a fallen fruit resting at the other side.
He was thankful his brothers were a different time zone away, they didn't need to know about all the foolishness that had conspired during his time here, and the happenings of this morning will go down with him to his cold dead grave.
There wasn't much of a safety zone for him to run to, he didn't know these areas well enough and with an obnoxious vehicle tearing up the jungle in his wake there was no time for him to stop and look for one. He couldn't risk jumping up into the trees, they'd spot him for sure. His only cover was the tall plants crowding the lower grounds, the thick stems and foliage serving as an endless green curtain he continued to push through.
He knew his time was about up, with nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Not knowing his way around while these hunters seemed to always have an eye on him put him at an unforgiving disadvantage. Not only that, he was much slower on his feet, having to constantly keep his eyes on the ground to make sure he didn't run into any more traps.
The vehicle was faster than him, it steamrolled any traps in its way when he could not, it was a losing game set against him. And soon enough, turtle luck would strike again, as while he took a poorly timed glance over his shoulder to see traces of large tires destroying everything in its path and a large front window screen, he didn't notice the incoming wall of netting secured to two trees until he had completely and obliviously barreled right into it. It wasted no time in wrapping around his form, locking his legs together and sending him crashing to the mossy floor in wake of all the momentum he had gathered while sprinting. He groaned as the ground and netting stung at his skin, the harsh material of his prison scratching into the bare flesh of his legs that his long cloak didn't clothe.
He knew it was futile to thrash about even if he did so instinctively, the sounds of wheels rolling up next to him and coming to a stop were making itself known under all the racket and cheers of the men perched up on high seats.
"Oh my God, we did it." Came a gasp, joined by the string of noises of bodies dismounting the vehicle. "We finally did it! Wait.. this is the thing, right?"
Heavy boots landing and crunching twigs filled the area, along with burly men scuffling over to stalk around him, their every gaze raking him over. He felt them all like fire licking at his skin, a sensation in his mind telling him he was being so closely observed, like a zoo animal in a cage. Only he was no animal they have ever seen before, and he kept his eyes shut so he didn't have to look at these people.
He didn't want to see the ones that had been hunting him down for the majority of his time here, who had seemingly come a long way just to get their hands on him and his legacy, and had made the past while Hellish for him. He didn't want to give them so much as a glare, the honour of taking in their faces. He didn't want to see them, even if he felt the ghostly touches of hands working away on the netting imprisoning him.
"We did it, alright." The man tightening the knots around his body gruffed, his voice deep and throaty as he finished securing the net.
Leo's arms, hidden underneath his wear and protected from the rough material, was trapped folded across his front with an elbow pressing against the soil beneath him. He gritted his teeth as the sensation throbbed up his arm, leaving it feeling fuzzy and numb.
"What.. is that thing?" A hesitant third voice came, further away and likely lingering around their shared vehicle. "Why is it green in places? Why is it shaped weird?"
"Are you sure this is the infamous Ghost of the Jungle?" A fourth voice, just how many of these people were chasing him around? "It looks like something you'd find in area 51. What is this thing?"
There was a hum of interest right behind his head, before a fistful of his attire was suddenly grabbed and he was yanked up to a near sitting location. Before he could process what was happening a hand came down and snatched the hood obscuring the turtle's face, ripping it back so hard he heard a tear somewhere.
Collective gasps rang out, disgusted groans following after with the usual exclaims of confusion and surprise.
The hold of the front of his cloak tightened and Leo's eyes opened, only to find steely blue ones already boring into them with the intensity of a man at war. His hunter was crouched down only an inch from him, so close that now he was off the floor he could feel the man's breath washing over his face. He was large in stature, his shoulders wide and his face plump. He had a messy and uncut beard that framed his gaping mouth like frizzy wire, and long dark hair tied back into a greasy bun. His eyebrows were bushy and not at all resembling the other, unusual jarring eyes dissecting his own as if he was looking for something behind them.
Leo tried to turn his attention elsewhere, tried looking around to see how many men there were and considered his chance of escape, but as he craned his neck to the side that large beefy hand took a tight hold of his face and forced him back. Fat fingers pressed hard against his cheeks, leaving a throbbing sensation in his skull as the only thing he could see in his field of vision was the predator before him taking in his every detail.
"Madre de Dios! What the fuck is that thing!?" A man cried somewhere behind him, he could sense the others gradually drawing in closer. Closing him in, trapping him.
"Definitely not a ghost, that's for sure." His manhandler rumbled dangerously, spittle flicking at the turtle's face.
Leo scowled, discomfort edging him to turn his head away again, even if the strong hold on it barely let him move.
"Obviously not," he hissed through his teeth, the pressure against his jaw from the man's hand as he tried to talk making it ache. He felt the unforgiving grip in his teeth, the man's fingers like a death grip crushing his face.
".. But definitely our culprit." He finished after a beat, now twisting Leo's neck with his fingers on his head to inspect him from every angle. He was drinking in every brilliant shade of leaf green in his body visible to the group, and briefly the turtle had the thought that this must be what a wriggling bug feels like under a telescope, studied far too closely. It made him want to wriggle uncontrollably under a piercing gaze such as this one, too.
"It's a monstrosity, is what it is!"
Ah, there it was. For a fleeting second he felt like he was back home, where everyone who saw him on the surface pointed and screamed, instead of within these jungles where he was beloved and greatly respected. The good old days.
"It's a freak!" Someone now behind him gaped dumbly down at him, "I wasn't expecting an actual ghost, but I wasn't expecting no frog!"
"It definitely is a freak of nature, all right." The large man bit out with a puff of stale air that assaulted the turtle's nostrils. "Whatever it is, a ghost or some Bigfoot wannabe, the chase is done. We got the one constantly putting its foot in situations that ain't its business, now the jungle can go back to the way it was. Ready the truck, boys, the others back at camp can have a thorough examination of our little friend here when we bring it back."
He finished that sentence with a threatening growl and hard tug on his head, making a muscle in his neck cry out from strain. Those unsettling blue eyes once again ripped into chocolate brown ones that glared hard back at them, a staring match of hostility happening between them, before the man finally pulled back and released his face with a snap of his hand. Leo coughed involuntarily when space was finally put between them, fresh air flooding his lungs once again as his hunter stood tall over him.
The other men made quick work of loading the cargo bed's contents into the raised section of the back of the Ranger, while the group's apparent leader grabbed at the netting binding Leo's body and roughly yanked him up on his feet. The rope rubbed up against the turtle's uncovered legs and he hissed sharply, before he finally looked around properly to take in the scene around him.
The vehicle that had been pursuing him for months on end was a silver colour, although it was so caked in dirt barely any shine came through. The large cargo bed was now sitting empty, but not for long as he had the sneaking suspicion he was about to be tossed in there still tied up for a long, uncomfortable journey.
There were six men in total, minus however many of them were waiting for them back wherever their camp was. A few of the men were young and scrawny, one in particular looked to be no more than his early twenties. Roped into this shady line of work from a young age for sure, he was constantly looking at the others to make sure what he was doing was adequate. Nervous, unsure, he had barely looked at Leo at all.
The ninja almost felt bad for him.
The second largest man, small in shape but tall and muscular, came over to help the one in charge drag Leo towards his inevitable fate. He didn't fight them, he knew it was futile, but still they grabbed at his arms so tightly he felt the muscles underneath them twitch and ache. He bit back any pained noises that gathered in his throat and simply swallowed them, he was not going to show weakness in front of these people. They didn't deserve that victory.
"Where are you taking me?" The words were slipping from his mouth before they came to his brain, but there was no fear or strain in them. His features and tone was as calm and collected as could be.
"Back to Guatemala, where the others are waiting for our arrival." The large man gloated, an almost malicious look on his face. "We're very interested in this Ghost of the Jungle that has become the talk of Costa Rica. You've become a great source of interest around Central America, you know, although I wonder how much of a legend you'll continue to be from inside a filthy cage you belong in."
The words spat at him blended into the background as Leo's thoughts were turned up full volume. They were taking him to Guatemala? People all the way over there wanted him, so much they came all the way down here and spent months hunting him down? That's a full day's drive at least, plus with how much time they've spent here, what if it turned out his legacy really was nothing but a myth? Why were they so sure he even existed in the first place to do all this!?
Unless one of their own had personally caught glimpses of him, but if they're all stationed in Guatemala, that would be impossible. Either they had some kind of solid intel from somewhere of his existence, or they are all incredibly daft. Leo wasn't sure which one was more concerning in this situation.
Also, were they really just going to have him lay on one spot in the back of a Ranger for over a day straight all tied up!?
He could feel his entire body seizing up in advance already, they could have at least put some kind of padding down for him!
No, that didn't matter- he couldn't let them take him from Costa Rica. He had a reputation to maintain, people to protect, a jungle to haunt. He was no help to these folk all the way over in Guatemala, in unknown territory where he didn't know how to safely return. He had to escape these men and lose them for good, he had to win this fight.
And he will, somehow.
Vague conversation around him brought him back to the situation at hand, the rope digging into his bare flesh becoming more painful every time he was forced to acknowledge it.
"I still can't believe this is the acclaimed great legend." One man mused, closely giving the turtle a look over. "I mean.. look at it. This thing is the great hero that's been stopping crime all over the jungle and spreading fear amongst criminals? This is the reason big tough guys back outta' jobs, because 'what if the Ghost of the Jungle catches us?' It's hard to just accept.. this weird thing is capable of all that."
Before Leo could think of a response, a comeback or snarky comment, that same beefy hand that had a tight hold of his face earlier came up and grabbed a handful of his cloak and raised it, as if making a point of doing so.
"This is him alright." The boss mumbled, before letting go of the fabric and letting it fall over the ninja's form again. "The boys will have a lot of fun playing around with their new plaything, that's for sure."
One of the smaller men climbing into the back seats stopped mid climb, looking back at them with a near pout. "But shouldn't we have our turn with him first? We came and got him!"
The big man chuckled and wrapped a hairy arm around the turtle's head as if to pull him to a side hug, roughly patting his shell. "We can all share him. Now, let's begin this trek, shall we? The sooner we get started the quicker we get there."
At once hands were grabbing at him, a pair going for his legs and he was promptly hoisted off his feet. His clothed shell clanked harshly with the back of the truck as he skidded ungracefully against it, the sets of hands dumping him as soon as he was positioned curled up on his side. He felt the vibrations of each hunter jumping into the Ranger with vigour, a round of whooping and cheering for a job complete as the loud engine came to life.
He heard the boss talking into what he assumed was a microphone of sorts, letting someone know 'the ghost has been apprehended and belayed successfully', before Leo felt the large metal frame of the vehicle begin to move. Before long he was watching his home pass by in a hurry as they tore through the jungle, the rattling of the Ranger vibrating through his entire body.
He pressed a cheek to the cargo bed and huffed. He had to think of a way out of this mess, he had to get away. If he could move his hand and reach for a pocket knife or shuriken he could cut the ropes and flee the vehicle before they could do anything about it. However as he was he was completely immobile, listening to their boisterous chatter that didn't interest him one bit, he knew he was completely stuck.
At least for now. Surely they'd make a pitstop some point along the way for a meal or the toilet, and then he'd figure out how he was escaping and returning to Costa Rica- if they had gotten the chance to take him out of it. He'd just have to wait, he'd get his window of opportunity. How, he wasn't sure, but what he was sure of was that he was absolutely not going to Guatemala with these hunters.
He'd make sure of it.