Enter the Ninja, part 2

"Our domain is the shadow. Stray from it reluctantly. For when you do, you must strike hard and fade away...without a trace."

Splinter, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, 1990.

Our first mission was at last upon us: a perfectly clear, cool, beautiful, sinister night. It was our first foray out in full costume, armed to the teeth with all of our equipment. All that week, we’d quietly asked ourselves what trials or excitement awaited us this night. As we unrolled Matt's tent and unpacked our sleeping bags, we’d glance at each other and giggle in anticipation. Our excitement and enthusiasm was unbridled. We were also a tiny bit apprehensive and nervous too, although we refused to admit it. You see we weren't strangers to sneaking out. We had done it many, many times before, running though the neighborhood like hooligans at 3 in the morning, pissing on people's cars, shitting on people's front porches, stuff like that. We'd even done it naked once... another story. But this was the first time we'd be out in full ninja regalia, carrying weapons, fully prepared to hurt somebody if they tried to fuck with us or with the innocent. We were fully prepared to use our lethal skills in the name of justice and all that is right. Matt and I were fully prepared to play judge, jury, and, if needs be... executioner. Our resolve was firm.

We decided we'd start things out easy: a simple “reconnaissance and infiltration” mission. About four miles from Matt's house was a high school. Of course, during the summer, classes weren't in session but there were still summer classes and scores of janitors manning the halls. In addition, there was information. Knowledge. And we invariably knew, knowledge was power. We had older friends and Matt also had siblings who attended the high school, and they in turn had enemies. We had a list of names at our disposal, and it was our goal to break in there and steal their “files.”

Earlier that day, Matt and I rode our bikes to the high school and “scoped” out the premises. We identified the most accessible points of entry and exit. We located the lowest parts in the building structure where we could grapple onto the roof if the need arose. We walked the halls and loosely acquainted ourselves with the layout. Matt claimed he could get blueprints, but in the end, we decided we would run this mission off memory alone. We were still studying the art of lock picking, and saving our pennies for sets of lock-picking tools, so in the meantime we had to make do with an alternate means of entry. Not a problem. We had done this many times in other buildings. We found the most unassuming, unused door in the entire building and then wedged a small stick at the bottom. This prevented the door from fully shutting and kept the lock from clicking. We could then return at a later time and enter the building through this entrance. It was an older high school, and to our knowledge had no motion detectors or sensors indicating a door could be ajar.

Eleven o'clock was lights out. When the time came we would have to change into our uniforms and strap on our gear by moonlight without raising the alarm of Matt's dog, “Oreo” who stood guard inside the house. Consequently, Matt and I had to remain as silent as the grave. Furthermore, we had to avoid clicking on our flashlights lest we raise the suspicion of Matt's dad who was a light sleeper and was always peeking through the upstairs blinds, making sure we weren't horsing around. Between eleven and three we had some time to burn so we'd meditate and focus our “chi’s.” At two am in the morning we decided it was time to begin the agonizing process of “gearing” up. We would have to move very slowly and deliberately - sliding into our black cargo pants and turtlenecks and zipping on our flak vests inch by inch. We laced up our boots and gloves and helped each other buckle up our utility belts and oh so quietly slide on our backpacks. The last step, which we did by candlelight, was to don our ninja masks. When we entered that tent, we were just a couple of rowdy 13-year-old kids. When we emerged a few hours later we were ninja: warriors of the night.

Our first priority was to get out of Matt's backyard. We hopped his fence into the neighbor's yard and then made our way through the neighborhood hugging the houses, staying away from the streets. Hiding behind trees or bushes or lying flat on the grass as cars passed, which wasn't too often at this ungodly hour. It was exhilarating to be out on “patrol” in full gear. We looked lethal. We knew we were forces to be reckoned with. The cool air and the welcoming sounds of the night such as the crickets chirping and dogs barking off in the distance only egged us onward. We were very attuned to our environment, a good ninja is always aware of his surroundings. Every twig or dry leaf or pile of dog shit we were sure to avoid. Our astute ears picked up every sound coming from each and every house we passed be it unattended television sets, or dogs whimpering, or babies crying, or couples fucking. We silently observed all.

We finally reached the high school and made our way to the door we had propped open hours prior. To our surprise, it gave. We wouldn't have to be breaking any windows tonight. There were a few lights on scattered throughout the high school. We knew the nighttime janitorial staff was still here. We guessed perhaps we were dealing with one or two bored, underpaid dudes asleep at some desk somewhere or watching TV, nothing to get too concerned about. Before we proceeded we hid in a shadowy corner to allow our eyes a chance to adjust. I unpacked the “Spy Tech” sound amplifier. It was basically a long microphone attached to earphones. Our progress was slow and cautious at first. The mic picked up dead silence... a steady wave of raw static. We grew braver. We made it to the center of the school - the heart of the complex. It was a wide-open area with a large wall where a huge mural hung bearing the school name and crest as well as a painting of the school Mascot, a Spartan warrior. Matt and I decided we'd split up to further explore the grounds and meet back up here at 0400 hours.

Our goal was to locate the main office. I flitted through the hallways always cautious to stick to the walls. Striking out on my own was exhilarating. I felt like an assassin from feudal Japan on a covert mission to execute a corrupt minister or evil warlord. My movements flowed like water, my mind was clear. Yet at the same time, something didn’t feel right. It was almost too quiet. This was too easy… everything was falling into place too conveniently. I decided to turn around and head back to the rendezvous point. As I rounded the corner I was greeted by a surprise. Crudely and disrespectfully spray-painted on the school mural, in big, black, bold letters... splayed across the proud Spartan warrior were the words:

SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!

I looked down and there was Matt squatting over his backpack, gingerly putting away 2 cans of spray paint. I ran up to him and shrilly whispered:

“Matt, you crazy fuck! What are you doing? This was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission!”

“These people need to wake up.” He defiantly muttered under his breath, refusing to look at me as though I was the villain, as though I was the one who had somehow wronged him.

I knew we didn't have time to get into this bullshit. The last thing we needed at this point was for our mission to self-destruct... not now. Yet, I still felt obligated to address Matt's sudden mood swing and his insolence.

“Wake up? Matt, it’s summer break, no one’s even here! Dude, this was totally unnecessary... it wasn't a mission objective... Listen we need to get the fuck out of here.”

“Did you find the main office?” He spoke as though he was in a daze. His voice distant.

“Yeah, I did. It’s on lock down... no windows. I have a bad feeling...”

He suddenly seemed to snap out of his funk. His eyes focused on me and coherence returned to his voice. "OK. ok man, let's get outta here."

We started making our way through the halls working back toward the door we entered through. The shadowy hallways began to blur and tear at the seams. The endless ocean of lockers added to this newfound sense of vertigo and claustrophobia we were both now feeling. Our progress was slow. I led the way with the “Spy Tech” microphone held out in front of me, ready to pick up any sounds well in advance and alert us to any presences: nothing... just static, a steady stream of uninterrupted white noise. Not a voice or a whistle or a footstep could be detected.

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...