This is not at all how Rodeo was supposed to spend his day.
The plan was simple. Meet his baby girl at the gates, take her to pilfer a heap of snacks out of the storage hangar and then hook a fully fueled generator up to spend the afternoon watching all her old favorites on the VCR he'd found. The Last Unicorn and Little Women and even Gone With the Wind-- whatever she wanted, she'd get.
It was not supposed to start raining blobs.
Sarge was not supposed to challenge a Ghoul to a solo duel on the wide open Freenet.
Rodeo is not supposed to be here today.
So when he pulls the SS up to the strip mall, he is righteously pissed. He honestly can't remember the last time he was quite this mad at his best friend. Probably back when they were still in grade school and he tried saying that Splinter couldn't straight-up beat the piss outta Mr. Miyagi. That was irritating as all get-out.
But this is definitely worse.
Rodeo doesn't wait for Teagan or Pinky to follow him out. He knows they will. He moves purposefully, his walk quick and aggressive as he stalks beneath the awnings of the mall looking for a store that looks like one Sarge might hunker down in. When he spots racks of comic books through the glass of one of the shops, he moves forward, kicking open the door because he's too goddamn fucking pissed off for door handles.
Inside, he sees Sarge and his opponent. There's just one girl.
Just one skinny wretch of a girl.
That doesn't mean she's not dangerous, though. There's a crazed fury in her eyes, and Rodeo has seen what wash madness can do. It turns skinny little girls into rabid things, all teeth and claws. Desperation drives. Everything else sits in the back seat and shuts the fuck up.
So even if one washed-out sewer rat is all he sees, he isn't sorry he came. Sarge is a brawler through-and-through, well trained and revved up on rage, but the patch at his breast is a target on his back. This is a risk he shouldn't have taken.
"Hey," Rodeo snaps, meaning to catch their attention. "You done dancin', lovebirds?"