Blurb:

The invasion of the demons is halfway into its second year and the boys have each found their own way to fight the incursions. But if they're to get to the real cause they'll need to start working together again. That's not so easy when trust and sanity is the enemy's first target...

Disclaimer:

Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird created the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. This story is based onTMNT2003 series' Seasons 1-5; Mirage Studios co-produced. You don't need to have watched that particular series if I've done my job right, but that whole 'slightly dark and gritty feel' is right up my alley.

Additionally no declaration of ownership is made of New York, reptiles, mutants, ninjitsu or cannon characters and plot devices.

Dedicated to my family:

Side by side we fit together like the pieces of a broken mug and a drop of crazy glue.


Chapter One

There Are Four Turtles


Part 1

Red-Eyed Turtle


The lights flashed red, then black, then red, then black; all along the wide empty corridors of the underground military complex.

The alarm sounded overhead: "Intruder alert sub-level one."

Commodore John Bishop, a tall lean built man wearing sunglasses and a grey official's uniform hurried up along the walkway. Four guards in black armour suits and matching black motorcycle helmets flanked him, 'FPA' imprinted on their gear in inch tall white block letters. The red lights were barely strong enough to reach the floor and the walls to either side were blank.

"Be careful, we don't know what the intruder is; let alone what 'it' is capable of." Bishop warned them and scanned his hand signature into the locking system. "Open and hold." He voice commanded into the panel's microphone. Identified as authorised personnel, the door slid calmly open for him.

The four guards by his side pointed their guns into the opening. Nothing appeared in their line of sight. The light within the room flashed in synchronisation with the walkway lights: black, red, black, red.

The first two guards ventured forwards and went in cautiously through the doorway. The lights flashed around their silhouettes. Red, black, red, black, gone, black, red, black, gone, black, red, black, red, they vanished between the lights, the second guard having only enough time for a mild gasp of surprise.

"Oh, come on, Bishop, is that all you got for me? You call this an alarm system?"

Instantly recognising the youthful voice Bishop took a step back in mild surprise. "Donatello. Stand down, men. Return to your duties. And someone find a way to reset that alarm." He folded his arms as the two behind him walked off and the other two from inside the doorway staggered past to join their comrades in the journey back up the walkway.

"What is the meaning of this, Donatello?" Bishop asked through the doorway.
"Funny, that was the question I was asking myself too." Donatello's voice answered back.
"Why did you feel it necessary to set off the security system?"
"It brought you down here in a snap, didn't it? Just a little bit of alarm and here you are. And you should be alarmed Bishop."

Red, black, red, black, the lights continuously flashed.

The turtle stepped out of the lab. He was wearing a black armoured suit like the others but without the FPA logo on the front, his purple Ninja mask on his face and a black motorcycle helmet was in his left hand. On his back he had two katana and a gun the length of his shell slung over his shoulder. "Very alarmed."

"Why are you wearing your prototype suit?"
"Because I'm leaving," Donatello explained in a tone of quiet outrage; "Stockman told me you knocked back my research probe proposal."
"Hmm," Bishop frowned unimpressed, "I was going to explain my reasoning to you myself, Donatello,-."

"Oh, right, an explanation, how stupid of me! Of course there must be a logical explanation for not wanting to get to the source of our problems! Maybe it's because you like your new job; perhaps you like New York falling down around you, it makes you feel needed. Appreciated."

"Donatello!" Bishop remonstrated, "I think you have been spending too much time with Doctor Stockman. The portal research probe is a perfectly good idea if we had sufficient safety measures to go with it. However, so far what you've proposed to me is rash, foolhardy and-."

"Rash is hardly the word I'd use, Bishop!" Donatello exclaimed in his outrage. "Every night portals have been randomly appearing around the city depositing unpleasant creatures with appetites that range from New York's inhabitants to New York itself. The portals have been popping up all over this city for two and a half years, spitting out demons left right and centre every night for two and a half 'years'!" He stressed the word, "Not days, not months but 'years'! So far all we've been doing is fighting demons; we've done nothing about the portals themselves."

"It's extremely dangerous!" Bishop finished what he was saying. "You are putting FPA personnel in the direct line of fire. The portals open with an incredible amount of force. We've had five fatalities since the initial outbreak simply because an FPA Squadron officer was standing in the wrong place at the wrong time when one of the portals you so desperately wish to examine appeared. An additional two of our officers survived the blast only to get promptly eaten by the titan that the portal heralded. The casualty risk associated with your proposal is practically guaranteed and I will not put my men in such a position."

"That's fine, Bishop, I can do it myself! I have no problem with-."
"No! Donatello. The risk doesn't change with you doing it instead. Unmitigated risk is entirely unacceptable in all instances."
Donatello stepped around him and started walking backwards. "And that's why I'm leaving."
"I'm clear on the fact that you're upset, Donatello, and a break from the lab may do you good, but-."
"But what? You still need my services? So I can build another new toy for you? You know what; I'm beginning to think you really do like having demons overrunning Manhattan. They give you something to shoot at."

"I don't! Donatello." Bishop gritted his name quietly, "But we need every man we have alive and yes, you are someone we cannot do without. Until there are enough safety measures in place, I cannot approve the project."
"See you later, Commodore." Unlistening, Donatello turned around and disappeared up the red and black flashing corridor to the lift.

Bishop gritted his teeth and looked back to the lab door. "Doctor Stockman!" He stepped through the open door and saw the scientist's brain in question, floating in his jar, the mute sign flashing on his electronic life support panel and a grappling hook from the roof trapping him in place.

Bishop went to the computer panel and released the grapple, but he wasn't in the mood for hearing Stockman's electronic voice so rounded smartly on him. "As I already told you earlier, Doctor Stockman; start working on those safety measures for Donatello's project!" He gritted, "If he doesn't come back I will hold you personally accountable." With that he strode towards the door, and scanned his handprint out, letting the door slide closed behind him.

"Donatello does need time off." He muttered to himself. "That was an atypically irrational response. He literally never acts like that." He stopped in the middle of the walkway, realising he was still surrounded by red flashing lights, turned around, and scanned himself back into the lab.

"Would you please get the lights, Doctor Stockman?" He gritted in annoyance through the doorway.
"I can't sir," Stockman's electronic voice answered in some distress.
"I'll do it."
"Ha, I'd like to see you try. He's encrypted the ..." Stockman's voice trailed as Bishop strode past Stockman hovering at the computer and reached the far wall. He opened the fuse box panel and reached in, flipped up the switch that said 'security' on it and then flipped it back down. The main lights came back up immediately. He turned to review the scientist. "You were saying, Doctor Stockman?"

"I-I was just saying, sir, that I will start at once on finding a way to make Donatello's research probe venture a safe and happy experience for all concerned, Commodore." The brain in the jar prattled in supplication through the electronic voice interface.

"Good. At least then we may make some progress." Bishop declared stiffly and strode back out of the lab.