Chapter One:

April O'Neil could smell smoke. And not the typical New York cigarette smell, either. There was a stench to it. A scream echoed through the street and she made her way to the window of her living room, pulling the curtain back slowly to get a better look. She glanced down, to the sidewalk, her eyes pulled to something bright. A symbol. An unsettling feeling turned her blood to ice as she realized what it was. It can't be. We shut them down ages ago. April shoved her arms through her jacket, despite being in her pajamas, grabbed her keys and first aid kit, and made her way down to the street. Quickly, she was able to find a job, getting the wounded citizens into her antique shop and tending to their injuries. She made do with what she had, but most of them would need a hospital, and soon. She was splinting an old woman's leg when the building across from her lit up in a yellow flash, and emitted the loudest boom she'd ever heard. The glass walls of her shop shattered, and she covered her eyes, her ears ringing. More screaming commenced and she ran outside. Even more citizens had been hurt. She watched as a man not much older than her, clutched his wife in his arms, as her head lolled back and her wound was exposed. April sprinted to him, skidding to a halt on her knees in front of them. Her brand new pajamas would be ruined, but she didn't have time for that now. The man's green eyes bore into her face as she tried to find a vital sign. She remembered Donnie's voice in her ear, when he taught her on a bored Michelangelo. Remember, he said. Every sixty seconds. If you're in a hurry, you can check every fifteen and multiply it by 4. But the easiest way is to check the corotid, on the neck. She put two fingers against the woman's neck, but there was nothing. Frantic, she checked the wrist. And again, nothing. She did not want to give up, but the man jerked with a sob, moving his wife's head. Near the temple, a chunk of her skin had been torn from her head. April could see the bone cracked and her brain swelling behind it. She choked down bile as she shook her head to the man. He broke down again, shoving his face in the crook of her neck.

"Sir… You have to come with me. You're not safe here." His eyes darted to hers.

"B-but my wife-"

"You can- you can bring her too. But we have to go. There's room for you in my antique shop, just over there. I'll help you carry her." He nodded and April took the woman's cold ankles in her hands. The man held her up by her under arms and they were able to settle in a corner of the shop. Thankfully, away from the children. None of them noticed. They were too busy wailing in fear or pain, some had already fallen asleep. A few more people from the housing above came down to help, while they waited for the ambulances. She decided it would be the time to look for more injured. Her phone felt like lead in her pocket, as she itched to call them. Surely they would know of this display of violence. Surely they'd been keeping track. That was their job, was it not? Her gut twisted at the thought of her best friends getting caught up in the explosions. She pictured them, battered and bruised, defending each other and the city, on an old rooftop. The building caving from beneath their feet, and- No. Stop. Don't think about that. They can take care of themselves. Find out who did this, and get them some information. She made her way to the van, sure to check her surroundings. And, plain as the red hair on her head, there was the symbol she identified from her apartment window. Anxiety ripped through her as she ran a hand down the side of the metal. Did they know? The hairs stood up on her neck as she realized she wasn't alone. She could feel someone's breath down her spine. Just in time, she spun around to see a dark figure launching a fist into her stomach. She lurched back, falling with an oof, and the figure stood over her. She tried not to focus on the pain. There would definitely be bruising. Possibly internal. She heard the click of the safety and felt a foot on her chest, pinning her against the asphalt. She squeezed her eyes shut, but instead of a gunshot, she heard a swift woosh in the air. The figure hit the van with an "Anngh!" then slid to the concrete, limp. Her eyes widened as she glanced up at her savior. The glint of a white hockey stick filled her vision and she heard a voice she thought she never would again.

"Hey, toots."

"Casey?!"

Leonardo woke up in a cold sweat, yet again. He bolted upright from his bed, the old mattress helping spring him awake. It was at least two hours before he intended to wake, but he couldn't possibly go back to sleep now. This was the third night in a row he'd woken up in this position. He couldn't figure out for the life of him what was bothering him so much over the last few days. He attempted meditation, extra training, heck, he tried coffee to get a better concentration (though he found it revolting) but it was all for naught. Until now. He rubbed a hand over his damp face and shivered. Grabbing the mask from his bedside table, he rocked onto his three-toed feet and stood. The image flashed again in his mind. A symbol.

The Foot, his conscience reminded him. He sighed heavily, carefully prying open his door, as to not wake any of his family. He tiptoed to the edge of the railing by his room, and glanced down at the makeshift living room. A single television (out of many) blared and he could hear Mikey snoring from the couch. He smiled slightly, but the dream still bothered him. He shouldn't be having this nightmare. They terminated The Foot years ago, along with The Shredder. His shell still ached where Karai had stabbed one of his own katana through his shoulder, into the sensitive tissue of his back. Donnie informed him that the lack of nerve damage from the attack was astounding, but he grimaced at the ugly, ragged scar in the mirror every morning. He could still remember the coppery smell of his own blood, seeping between his fingers as he stumbled to tend to the rest of his family. The same Donatello who gaped at Leonardo's fast recovery, had an arm snapped in the wrong direction, and internal bruising. Raphael lay on the ground, all but one of his ribs cracked. Michelangelo with two broken legs and a concussion. Master Splinter unconscious from the shock torture Oroku Saki put him through. The smell of singed fur burned his nose to this day. His nostrils flared at the thought of her. No need to dwell, he thought angrily. She chose her side. He rolled his shoulder, feeling an ache in it again. This time it radiated to his neck and head and he used his other arm to vault his strong body over the railing, onto the steps. He padded down them almost silently, opening the sliding doors to the dojo. In the corner, sat a mat and a few candles, and he started towards them.

"Back again, my son?" an all-too-familiar voice asked, echoing from the area he was moving toward. He let his footing falter slightly, startled by the appearance of his father. He stopped in his tracks, bowing as one by one, the candles were lit.

"Yes, sensei. I… I had another… Dream."

"You have been woken up by it once again?" The wise, old voice asked. Leonardo watched the oversized rat set up the mat on the floor, circling it with the candles. The room around them lit up intimately, casting wavering shadows on the training equipment and Master Splinter's fur.

"Yes, but this time, I remembered what was upsetting me. A-an image. A symbol. One I thought was long gone... "

Splinter raised an eyebrow, wishing his son would not be so cryptic. He could only help Leonardo if he knew exactly what his problem was.

"The Foot, father. It was the symbol of The Foot." This caught his attention, and he sat, inviting Leonardo to join him on the mat. He kneeled, searching his father's eyes for any recognition or answers.

"You say you saw the symbol in your dream. Was there something else? Something particular that coerced this behavior?" He gestured to his son's shaking and clammy hands. Leonardo laid them flat against his thighs, embarrassed at the sign of weakness.

"That's the thing. I cannot bring myself to remember the entire dream. I've tried, multiple times. I've tried everything. Anything." Leo shook his head, hating to admit he'd failed. Especially at something so simple.

"Hmm," the rat hummed, stroking his beard with one hand. "This is very experimental and I have only done it a few times. But I feel you are ready." The turtle cocked his head to the side and blinked.

"What is it, Master?"

"We will travel into the spirit world through meditation. There, I will search your mind to find the contents of the dream that have been blocked from your memory. It may take hours, and will be very difficult. However, I have faith in you, my son." Leonardo nodded and adjusted his weight to hold his body for a long period of time.

"Thank you," he whispers and smiles.

"Let us begin."

God, she's still beautiful as ever, Casey thought as he helped a stunned April off of the asphalt. Immediately, she wrapped him in an embrace. A feeling that he missed, but was familiar with nonetheless. He smiled and kissed her hair. She pulled away, looking up into his eyes, her face hard to read. Suddenly, her arm cranked back, and he felt a sting in his cheek that drew tears in his eyes. He used a hand to cradle his now swelling face and gaped at her. Both arms started to swing at him, beating against his head and chest.

"Hey, hey, hey! April!"

"What the hell is the matter with you?!" she spat. "Just showing up like this?! Do you have any idea how-"

"Listen, I-I wanted to call-"

"Oh, don't feed me that bullshit. I'm not one of your little girlfriends you can't just-" April was cut off by the sight of Casey Jones being flung into the van, denting the metal directly in the middle of the crest. "Casey!" As if on cue, he looked up at her from the ground, and his eyes went wide with fear. He stumbled up, but it was too late. A Foot Ninja had his buff arm enclosed around her neck and pressed a jagged knife to her throat. The Ninja could see the veins in her neck straining as she struggled against his grip. He only pulled tighter.

"No! Let her go!" The dark-haired, ex-vigilante advanced toward the man, but was tugged back out of thin air, as two more of the Foot pulled his arms taut behind his back. One of them kicked the back of his leg, sending him to the ground once more. A katana was pressed against his back, between his shoulder blades and he gasped as it threatened to pierce his skin. He could see April turning purple and her legs were giving out. In a panic, he grabbed each of the wrists that held his and flipped them over his head, into the same van he had been tossed against. He turned around to find the ninja with the katana running straight for him. In one swift movement, he knocked the sword from the man's hand and sucker punched him in the gut. He fell to the asphalt and Casey kicked him square in the temple, for good measure. He turned again to see the man gently run the blade across her skin, drawing blood.

"You move, she dies." Casey threw his hands up in surrender. The ninja started to move, toward the back of the van. "Now… Tell me where the Turtles are."

"Wha-what?!" Casey asked, as he always did when someone mentioned them. Usually, the best way to avoid that topic was to play dumb. This time, he wasn't so sure. Tears streaked down April's dirty face as she gasped for air and shook her head vigorously. The man pressed even harder into her neck and she cried out.

"Your little green friends… Where are they?"

"I… I don't know…"

"Liar!" This time, the ninja dropped the blade, using his free hand to pull his bicep tighter over April's airway. She gasped loudly, clawing at his arms, shoving her fingers between his strong arm and her neck. "This is your last chance. Where are the turtles?" Casey stared at the love of his life and his shoulders drooped. They locked eyes and he gave her a look. One that said I'm sorry.

"Don't!" she croaked, and the ninja flexed his arm into her windpipe. She sputtered and choked and went limp in his arms. Casey could hear the grin on the man's face.

"Have it your way, then," he said, backing up slowly and dragging April with him. The doors of the van flung open and she was tossed in before Casey could even take a full breath.

"NO!" he shouted. The van kicked on. He found his bag of weapons and pulled out his handgun. He only used it for special occasions. The vehicle began speeding down the road and he aimed at the tires. At the lock, anything. But there was no use.

A crowd of The Foot emerged from the shadows, surrounding him.

"Bring it on, losers!" he screeched. And like a panther against an antelope, they descended upon him.

Leonardo always found the spirit world interesting and wished to explore any part of it he could. It was calming to be able to wander through a realm in which everything was on his terms. At least, for awhile. The place was unpredictable, like most aspects of his life, but not nearly as often. It interested him more than any part of his training. Even his katana could not compare. He seemed to think of a new question every morning, over tea. He even sensed a bit of irritation from Splinter sometimes, when he was too persistent. However, this time, as he walked through his own fog, he had to let his Master invade his mind. A figure emerged in his vision, and remembering the instructions he was given, he let go. Full control was now under Splinter. He felt a shift in himself, as if he were shoved into a closet and locked in.

Splinter wandered through the haze of Leonardo's mind, which (after what seemed like hours) revealed an image of The Foot's crest. He had found the sliver of the dream. How he could access the rest of it, he was unsure. But he had to press on. He got closer and closer, and as he approached the crest, a wall went up. At first, he grimaced and worried the barrier would be too strong, but he slowly realized what he had to do. The spirit world was a strange place, but also a creative one. With full control over Leonardo's mind, he could will things to happen that his son could not. The rat stepped up to the wall and concentrated hard. His paw pressed against the barrier, and with some effort, the wall shattered into a million pieces.

Instantly, he was overwhelmed with the smell of smoke, hearing screaming and gunshots. Whatever this dream was, he was standing in the middle of it all. To his left, a man held his dead wife, crying. To his right, a building burst into flames. Panic set in as he read the street signs. 97th and- oh, no. He spun around to read the writing on the building behind him. O'Neil's Antiques: Second Time Around. Just then, the store itself collapsed after a flash of white light and a loud boom.

"NO!" he yelled, and was brought sharply back into the reality of the dojo. The two suffered from headaches, and Splinter massaged his temples with a thumb and two fingers.

"Sensei… I… I saw everything. What does that mean?" Leonardo rocked back on his heels, willing himself up, to help Splinter to the kitchen, where he would make some tea. As they slowly made their way, the rat sighed.

"It could mean a number of things, my son. Perhaps you are just worried for Miss O'Neil. We have not spoken to her in weeks. But…"

"But, what?" the turtle in blue asked, putting the kettle on the stove Donnie built.

"Something about that dream… It was all too real. It may be your mind telling you of what's to come." Leonardo sat beside him, confused.

"Master Splinter, we eliminated The Foot Clan two years ago. How could they possibly-"

"What about The Foot?" asked a voice. The rat and the turtle in blue glanced up to see Raphael enter the kitchen. The turtle in red stretched and yawned, making his way to the fridge. He was stockier than his brothers. Where he lacked in stealth, he made up for in sheer, brute strength. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat across the table.

"It's nothing, Raph-"

"It is not nothing, my son," the rat said, turning his attention to a curious and impatient Raphael. "Your brother has had a dream- about The Foot." Raphael blinked and sighed, shaking his head. A part of Leonardo wanted to keep the dream between he and Splinter. If this could possibly be a dream projected out of fear, he did not want to express his weakness to his brothers. He was their leader and guardian. And, their teasing could be hard to handle. As Leonardo remembered all the times his brothers made fun of him for liking Karai (although he wouldn't put it that way, necessarily), Donatello stalked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He began talking as he started up the coffee pot to the left of the fridge.

"Leo's dream could mean anything, Sensei. No one really knows what their purpose is or if they even correlate with real life situations. The possibilities are endless. It could be a repression of a memory, or even just-"

"It was very real, Donatello. I experienced it myself." The turtle in purple stopped the mug at his parted lips, staring wide-eyed at his father.

"You… You, what?"

"It was a meditation tactic I learned a long time ago, when you were nothing but babies. I was able to experience the parts of the dream your brother's mind would not allow him to remember."

"So, what exactly happened?" asked Donatello, now seated beside them. He scratched his chin curiously.

"It was… Outside April's shop. The Foot were just wreaking havoc, blowing up buildings and they didn't even care about being seen." Leonardo pondered the dream he finally saw, thinking about how unlikely it was. Still, a part of him wondered about The Foot's activity. Donnie had been keeping tabs on them, tracking any known members. After too many sleepless nights, watching and hovering, they finally decided that they were officially gone. They still checked in every day, but there was no sign of them. For over a year.

"Hmm… If it makes you feel better, I can check my scanners. But, I haven't seen anything in months."

"Is there any way they could get around it? Somehow figure out you've been tracing them?" Michelangelo asks, yawning and flinging open the refrigerator door. None of them had even heard him come in.

"Maybe… But I put incryptions on the scanners that even Doctor Stockman would have a hard time figuring out. I covered our tracks well enough that they shouldn't be able to know about them at all." Donnie got up, pouring himself another coffee. He already had a headache. Perhaps it was due to the fact he got only three hours of sleep. He had discovered an article on household appliances turned into thermonuclear weapons. Some Professor at Harvard wrote it. And, despite the article being completely wrong, he busied himself with it anyway, not wanting Master Splinter to know of his recent insomnia. It started as the usual epiphany, and he went to work on a new project. But as the nights went by, he just couldn't get any sleep. Something was bothering him. So, he tried doing some work, hoping Splinter wouldn't worry.

"If it makes you feel at ease, I can check the scanners again. I'll check police reports and the news." Leo nodded, as well as Splinter, and Donnie started to walk away. As he stalked sleepily to his lab, the unmistakable sound of stone on stone echoed through the lair. All of them lept from their positions, towards the door. There, a figure stood. The family froze as it stumbled in.

"Casey!" Mikey said, smiling and walking over. He hadn't showed up since… Well, in ages. The battered man glanced up, with one eye swollen shut. "Casey?" Just then, he collapsed into the turtle's arms. The rest of them ran to his aid. Donnie supported him under one arm and Mikey under another. Slowly, they made their way to Donnie's lab, where they laid him across the cot they'd used as a makeshift gourney. Casey groaned as he turned to his side and spewed vomit all over Mikey's feet. The turtle jumped back in disgust, and Raph gaped at his friend.

"Casey, what happened to you?" Don asked, inspecting his pupils and the wounds on his face. Raph grabbed his arm encouragingly, as he attempted to speak.

"The… The Foot…" he whispered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He went limp and Leonardo tapped his face. "Casey… Stay with us, buddy." His eyes shot open and he dug his nails into Donnie's arm. His attention shifted to his sick and broken friend. "They… Took her… April."

His grip loosened then, and he lost consciousness.

April could hear faint whispers. In a different language. She tried to move, but winced. It hurt to breathe. Her eyes seemed to be open, but wherever she was, it was dark. She was hanging from her wrists, she knew that much. They stung when she tried to move, and she could feel warm blood trickle down her left arm. Her ribs ached as she clutched the cold chains above her, relieving the pain from her arms. That would be the only way to make sure a shoulder didn't get dislocated. Broken. Definitely broken, she thought. Suddenly, she heard a door creak, and flourescent light flooded the room. She squinted and squirmed away from it as an unmistakable figure entered the room.

"Ah, Miss O'Neil… Nice of you to drop in."

"Karai," she spat. The effort of speaking made her cough, and the ninja laughed. April thought she saw the glint of a knife in the light.

"Such disgust in your tone, April. I would have thought you'd be more polite." Karai raised an eyebrow, an evil grin spreading across her face. April noticed a ragged scar that ran across her face, from her forehead to her chin.

"What do you want? Why did you bring me here?"

"I thought we could have a little fun… Unless, of course, you can give me the information I need."

"Never." Once again, Karai laughed, taking something from a henchman to her right. She paced the room, wrapping her knuckles, and April gulped. Suddenly, the ninja was inches from her face, reeling her arm back. With an incredible force, Karai's fist pounded into April's gut, and she lurched forward, a tuft of red hair falling into her face.

"You will find that I can be quite persuasive…" She huffed a stray hair out of her face. "Now, where are they?"

"I don't know."

This time, a fist slammed against her face, and she heard the crunch of her cheekbone under Karai's hand. She called out then, coiling away, but she knew it was no use.

"WHERE ARE THE TURTLES?!"

"I'm not saying anything, you bitch!" she shouted and spit in Karai's face. The ninja flinched and wiped it angrily from her face. A stinging pain hit her other cheek, forcing her head to the side, to see her own blood drying on her arm. And that was the last thing April saw before losing consciousness once again.