1. Bad Luck
"The only good luck many great men ever had was being born with the ability and determination to overcome bad luck."
- Channing Pollock
Sage did one last stitch on a young Rottweiler and then put away her tools, feeling fairly satisfied with the final result. It was sheer perfection if she could say so herself. Stitching up was always something she'd been great at, and today she'd finished rather quickly too. Roger, said five month dog, would still be out for at least another half hour. Maybe she had exaggerated on the anesthesia, but rather that than have him waking up in the middle of the procedure and have to go through with it in pain.
The poor creature was found by his owner nearly stoned to death, in an alley, by either some very cruel people or a bunch of kids who thought they were funny. By the time he'd gotten to her clinic, Roger was barely breathing and his heartbeat slowed down by the second. Only a miracle had kept him alive for so long. Well, a miracle and Sage.
She hated to witness suffering, it brought a vile taste to her mouth. Animals were innocent creatures. They were clever and sharp but they weren't rational, most of the time they didn't know any better. On the other hand, humans were did. They were aware of their actions and they knew right from wrong, or at least they should. Hurting harmless beings was the most explicit proof of mankind's cruelty. It wasn't enough to kill each other amongst themselves but they also found the need to turn to animals as well.
Tossing a disposable mask into the trashcan by the corner, after asking her intern to slowly move Roger back to his cage, Sage stepped into the waiting room, where she met with a very anxious Mrs. Gilbert. The woman was built like a brick wall. She was tall and burly, with a jawline that any man would be envious of. The few other people in the room were watching Mrs. Gilbert warily, either intimidated by her presence or in awe. Sage was neither. She had known Mrs. Gilbert since her sixteen years, and she was the kindest, most compassionate woman in whole New York.
Mrs. Gilbert sprung from her seat as soon as she saw her. "Sage! How is he? Is he alright? Did he make it?" She urged worriedly.
"Please settle down, Mrs. Gilbert. Here – have a seat." Sage gestured for the chair which Mrs. Gilbert reluctantly took again, barely touching the edge as she looked at her pale as a ghost. "Roger was quite critical, he suffered multiple fractures to his limbs, a twisted ankle and an internal bleeding that required immediate surgery. The procedure went smoothly and I do believe the worst is over, but it will all depend on how he will react when he wakes up from the anesthesia."
The giant woman drew in a quivering breath, bringing one hand to her racing heart and closing her eyes.
"Thank God!" She sighed. She grabbed Sage's small delicate hands in between her larger ones, peering up at her with something close to adoration. It warmed up her chest. "Bless you, my dear. I don't know what I would've done if he... if he...!"
Sage rubbed her meaty shoulder comfortingly. She hated when people cried on her. "Come on now, Mrs. Gilbert, none of that, aye? Thankfully you brought him in just in time. You did well; very well in fact. So I don't wish to see any more bawling."
Mrs. Gilbert nodded faintly, sniffing loudly. "Now go home and have some well-deserved rest. You can come back first thing in the morning and I'll call you in case anything changes."
"Yeah... resting sounds like about heaven right now... Thanks again, Sage. How much do I owe ya?" Mrs. Gilbert reached for her purse but Sage stopped her, shaking her head with a small smile.
"After everything you've done for my mom this one is on me, alright? Just do me a favor and try to have some real sleep, and we'll call it even," she said, getting a hint of a chuckle from Mrs. Gilbert, who complied and stood up to take her leave. No one gawked or grimaced as she left the clinic like they probably had when she first came in. That alone was another victory in Sage's eyes. Everyone should really work on being less judgmental.
"Alright then." Sage moved towards a little girl with two short pigtails. She was hugging a hamster cage protectively to her chest. Sage flashed her a sweet smile to bring her out of her uneasiness. "Come on, Katie; your turn now. You can tell me all about that stomachache our lovely Whiskers has been having."
"Coming up next: the famous vigilante known as the Nightwatcher strikes again. A gang was detained while attempting to rob one of New York's most VIP banks. The police officers, who arrived at the scene late as per usual nowadays, were met with two of the robbers tied up and hanging from a street lamp, plus a third one knocked out over a truck.
"Witnesses at the spot claim to have caught but a glimpse of..."
Mikey grinned widely at the screen barely containing his enthusiasm and admiration. "Hey, Donnie! He did it again! The Nightwatcher caught the bad guys again!"
Donatello slid a pair of old, rusty, welding goggles away from his eyes settling them over his forehead. He was in serious need of a break from his work. The new upgrade he was working on for their shellcells was starting to give him a headache. He fixed him with a look, waving around a screwdriver in a scolding manner.
"We've already gone through this before, Mikey, that masked nutshell is no hero. He's just some loser who wants his minute of fame under the spotlight." He scowled down at the tool in his hand, an eye ridge furrowing. "There's nothing heroic in advertising himself like that."
"Oh come on! All comic heroes show up on the news," Mikey said. He was hard on the head and there was no one who could talk him out of the idea that Nightwatcher was some kind of superhero.
"This isn't a comic book... this is real life, Mikey."
"Spoken like a true leader, huh?"
They both glanced upstairs, where a suddenly very sober and awake Raphael stood leaning over the railing of the upper level. Donnie glanced to his watch and back up again.
"It's half past eight pm, Raph. Have you seriously been sleeping until now?"
"Get off my shell, Donnie." Raph stretched his arms over his head as he made his way down the stairs. He grabbed an apple from a fruit basket on the dinning table and took a generous bite before facing Donnie. "I'm headin' out. Don't wait up."
"Again?" Mikey tilted his head to the side, but he couldn't really say he was surprised. Raphael had been wandering out of the lair every night since the beginning of the year. Pretty much since, well... since Leonardo left. Their father was being suspiciously careful about the whole thing. They could tell his behavior wasn't exactly approved but Master Splinter firmly insisted in staying out of it, and he wanted them to stay out of it as well.
"I would love to know what exactly do you do out there every night," Donatello commented, watching him suspiciously. "You can't be working that's for sure. There's not a single pound coming in from you."
"Oh I'm workin' alright, I just ain't tellin' you on what. Yo, Mikey, here - think fast!" Raph tossed the apple's core at his little brother's head with a mischievous smirk, hitting him right in the forehead. Mikey whimpered loudly only adding to his amusement. "Sorry, bro, next time think faster."
Raphael sneaked out of the lair, his booming laughter echoing through the walls just before the doors closed automatically behind him.
"Yeah, you better run! Stupid hothead..." he mumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead. He stared hard at the door for a few minutes. "Hey, Donnie?"
The purple masked turtle, who had resumed his work in the meantime, replied with an absent 'huh-huh'.
"Ever wondered what Raph's doin' out there?"
"Sure. I wonder and I worry every time he walks out that door, and who wouldn't? Raph's just one of those guys that seems to get in trouble anywhere he goes y'know. It comes as easily as breathing for him." Donnie connected the wrong cable to the cell. The sudden jolt of spark gave him a fright and he jumped back with a curse. He breathed in to collect himself.
"And then he comes home after dawn breaks, and he sleeps all day only to go out again as soon as it gets dark, sometimes he comes in with bruises too... I don't know, Mikey, I really don't... Leo was usually the one who could get through to him. He could keep Raph on a short leash - I can't."
Mikey's gentle blue eyes softened behind his mask. He walked over to his concerned brother and brought a hand to his stiff shoulder in a futile, yet appreciated, attempt to comfort him.
"You're doing the best you can, Donnie," he said, "stop being so harsh on yourself."
When Donnie shrugged indifferently, Mikey frowned. Donnie was getting more and more depressed lately. Not just him, but Splinter too. He hated seeing them like that. He looked as if everyone was struggling to keep things moving forward without Leo except him. Sure he had gone and gotten a part-time as party animator so that Donnie wouldn't have to be the only one working his shell off to pay April and Casey for the food supplies and all of the other necessities they brought to the lair every other week. But it still didn't feel enough.
On another note, Raphael might have it easier than him. After all, it wasn't him who was getting his tail kicked by a bunch of annoying, rude, loud, obnoxious kids. Mikey shuddered. For someone who had always loved kids, he was beginning to evaluate his choice of career. Tsk, Raph wouldn't last a day in my shoes! He smirked.
It was then he was struck by an idea. A rather brilliant idea.
"You know what? I think I'm goin' out too." Mikey grabbed his old skateboard out of the closet and headed for the outter sewer exit, where Raph had disappeared through.
"Yeah, alright - WAIT, WHAT?!" Mikey winced when the hammer slammed the desk instead of its target.
"Uh, I'm headin' out. But I promise I'm not gonna get into any trouble!" he called out as he ran before Donnie could stop him. Tonight they were going to finally find out what was going on with Raphael.
Sage shook her wet hair vigorously, water flickering in every direction, including on her mother's antique mirror in the foyer. She smiled sheepishly at the pale woman's scowl.
"Honestly..." Hannah Blythe sighed exasperatedly. The faint dust of brown freckles on her cheeks stood out against the flushing of her alabaster skin. "First, you get here nearly an hour late when you didn't even bother calling to let us know. And now!, now you come in looking like that! You two look like a pair of drenched rats!"
Sage rolled her eyes while shrugging off her soaking emerald green coat before hurrying her son out of his raincoat as well. "Sorry, Ma, but there was an emergency at work, and in my defense it started pouring down right after we got out of the car."
"There is always an emergency with you, isn't there?" Hannah couldn't help breaking into a resigned smile when her daughter gingerly shoved a piece of hair behind her ear, looking every bit guilty as she felt. "Well come on then. Let's get you two into the kitchen where it's toasty and warm. I think my roast beef could use a few more minutes in the oven but I baked some butterscotch cookies this afternoon. You can have some if you want, love."
Damian beamed at his affectionate grandmother. "Oh yes granny, I would love some! Can I, mommy? Please!"
"Hmmm...! I don't know..." She pretended to think over it, tapping a thin delicate finger against her chin. The little boy shuffled anxiously on his feet. The action made her heart throb. Oliver used to do that.
"Oh alright, you can have some. But easy on them, okay? You gotta have room in that tiny stomach for supper."
"I will!"
Both women chuckled as they stepped into the wide kitchen. Like the rest of the estate, it was elegantly decorated, and it was equipped with the latest technology in cuisine appliances. It was cozy and inviting as well. The walls in a modest beige made for a perfect contrast with the dark cherry wood of the cabinets and the counters, giving the proper emphasis to the chromatic shades of the sophisticated stove and oven. It wasn't all for looks of course. Her mother, Hannah, was a professional Chef. If she was to work in a kitchen, even at her own house, it was only expected to meet her most exquisite abilities.
Her father was sitting at the table, hunching over piles of scattered papers. His round glasses were dangling dangerously low on the tip of his nose, and his thick and neatly trimmed black moustache had a few stubborn crumbs stuck to it.
Some things never change, Sage thought with a smile. She hugged him from behind and gave him a loud kiss on his scruffy cheek, startling him out of his concentration.
"Sage! How good to see you, my dear daughter! I didn't even hear you come in!" William stood up to gather her in his lanky arms.
"I know you didn't, you never do." She chuckled. After briefly enjoying the warmth of his body, even if the wool of his old hand knitted cardigan scratched her cheek, Sage pulled away so she could lean over the table to take a look at the papers he was reading. "What are you working on?"
William shoved his glasses a bit further up as he gave his grandson a one-arm hug. He walked back to her and after fumbling with the papers for a bit he handed her one of them.
"An old friend's daughter is working on an exhibition for the ancient history museum downtown and she asked if I could help her with the background of the pieces," he said. "I do find it very interesting but these old parchments are giving me a bit of a headache."
"It's Old Norse, isn't it?" Sage asked curiously.
"Yes and an incredibly primitive form of it for that matter."
"I can see that, they were still using Proto-Germanic runes... I would say these are Old Gutnish, which might explain why you're having such a hard time with them. Your ancient Swede is terrible, Da." Sage smirked when her father lifted his eyebrows amused. She scanned another old parchment. It was yellowing and fading around the edges, the runes had vanished nearly entirely.
"Can you read it?"
"Hum... I can try but it's really difficult... let's see: '(...) and the Trickster met his fate at last. Our Almighty Lord, All-Father, has spoken, and he shall be imprisoned. To three boulders forever chained he shall be. One over his shoulders, one over his loins and one over his knees, until atoned for his misdoings he becomes or the element of his divinity slithers away from his grasp (...)'." Sage faced her father, "that's all I can get."
William scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Well, the All-Father is clearly Odin."
"And the Trickster is Loki, the mischievous god. I would bet the scribe is writing about Loki's sentence for murdering Balder, Odin's most cherished son."
"Interesting..."
"Yes yes, it's all very interesting as usual." Hannah shooed them away from the kitchen table as she came in from the living room with a beaming Damian hot on her tail. His hands and corners of his mouth were smeared with butterscotch from his grandmother's cookies. "What do I always say? No-"
"No talking about work during our family Sunday nights," Sage cut off with a smile, kissing her cheek. "We know, Ma."
"Good. Now scram you two, food's ready."
"Wait, what about Rowan and Karen?"
"Your sister is in Kentucky for the week, John's mother is in the hospital with a broken leg."
Sage chuckled, shaking her head. "That woman's gonna get herself killed one of these days. She's been to the hospital twice this month."
"She's a tough one, that Jane," William said.
"Well that might be true but it doesn't mean she's made of steel. The farm makes due perfectly fine with her two caretakers, there's no need for her to bend over herself taking care of it." Hannah frowned but then made a gesture as if saying 'oh well what can you do'. "And your brother called half an hour ago, telling me he can't make it tonight."
"Again?"
"Apparently..."
Sage felt her heart clench at her mother's sadness. The crease in between her honey colored eyebrows thickened and the wrinkles on the corners of her mouth deepened with her frown.
Things hadn't been the same since three years ago. Sage often had the vague and terrifying feeling that her family was slowly drifting apart, each day a little more. First, her sister and her husband had moved out of Manhattan with their kids so now they rarely ever saw each other, especially because Karen's job as a surgeon took up most of her time. Then, her brother stayed out all night without telling word to a bloody soul where he went or what he was doing, and no one knew of him during the day either. He acted like a bat.
Or a vampire.
She snorted internally. Her brother was the furthest thing from a vampire possible though; he was down at the beach during summer.
"Don't worry about him, Ma," Sage said, hugging her. "I'm sure he's fine."
"I hope so, love. I really do."
Mikey yawned loudly, the action bringing tears to the corners of his eyes. He was sitting on top of the IMG building, swinging his legs back and forth off the edge of the roof while trying to catch a glimpse of his older brother's dark silhouette moving stealthily through the top of the city, but it was proving useless. He had lost him soon after they were out of the sewers and, even though he thought he'd been very close on his tail more than once or twice, Raphael was a hard one to catch. Well, when he put himself up to it at least.
Although he was no match for the great Mikey of course, he smirked.
His stomach growled. "Bahh! I'm hungry! Isn't there any pizza parlor still open? I'm feelin' pepperoni and extra cheese tonight!" He jumped into a crouch, looking down at the busy streets until something caught his eye. A young woman was making her way towards an old alley and she was wearing an eccentric and expensive fur coat. She was practically a walking beacon for thugs, and, sure enough, two dark figures quickly followed after her.
"Well, what do we have here? I guess it's time to kick some shells." Mikey moved quietly and invisible, climbing down the building and into the alley just as the two thugs ganged on the lady. They grabbed her from behind and put a knife against her throat.
"Give us the coat an' all yer money, lady, an' everythin' goes nice an' easy," the tallest one said in a gruff voice.
The woman was about to scream but the other thug pressed the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood. "Don't even t'ink 'bout it, ugly hag!"
"Ugly? Have you checked yourself in the mirror lately, pal?" Michelangelo materialized from the shadows and, in one swift motion, he kicked the man with the knife knocking him down. He looked at him with a raised eye ridge, twirling playfully and threateningly his nun chucks. "You might give the lady a run for it if I say so."
If the lady was offended she showed no signs of it as she ran off, speeding away from the alley. Mikey rolled his eyes. "No thanks, uh? Humf, typical! Wow!" He moved out of the way just in time to miss the other attacker who lunged at him with a knife unsheathed. The thug growled angrily. "Someone's got a bit of a temper, I see! Well, if you wanna do this the hard way... ah yah!"
They danced around with Mikey always evading the thugs' attacks, his feet making absolutely no sound while the other's thumped furiously against the ground. Mikey chuckled, swinging a nun chuck around the guy's neck and flipping him over the shoulder, where he landed with a nasty thud. He was surprised when he was thrown off his feet by the same guy, but he recovered quickly and punched him strategically in the jaw, effectively knocking him out.
Mikey turned around in a haste. He had briefly forgotten there were two of them, not just one. He found the spot where the thug's body had fallen empty. His warning bells went off. He assumed a defensive stance, scanning his surroundings.
Four more creeps suddenly jumped into the alley, surrounding him in a close-knit circle. Each of them had a Swiss knife and they were ready to plunge them into his chest.
"You're one ov' them freaks, aren'tcha?" One of them asked with a sneer. "I heard the Purple Dragons talkin' 'boutcha."
Mikey snorted. "Glad to know I'm that famous."
"Funny one, huh? Well let's see if yer still funny after we cut off yer freaky amphibious head an' bring it t' them!"
"I'd like to see you try!" Mikey leapt when two dashed towards him and they crashed into each other. "Oh and by the way; I'm a reptile, you shellhead!"
They fought him with hard punches and kicks, but they were clumsy. No match for a ninjitsu master for sure. Michelangelo fought all of them, barely even making use of his weapons until only the one who'd spoken, who seemed to be the leader, was still up. He dodged a punch, blocked a kick and easily evaded his attempt to trip him over. But then the thug stopped and smirked. It was one of those yellowish, vile smirks that made the back of Mikey's neck sweaty, and suddenly he felt a stab on his side and the hot blood splurting down his right leg.
His eyesight blurred, spotting. His limbs, legs and arms began tingled worriedly.
"Oh shell..."
The rain had finally stopped by the time Sage and Damian left her parents' house but it was chilly. So they hurried to her relatively new red Chevy Impala and, as soon as they were inside, Sage turned on the heater, getting a rather content sigh from the little one.
She drove through the well-lit busy streets of New York swiftly. There was hardly any traffic at that time, which was a good thing too because Sage was dying to get home and go straight to bed and catch some z's. She had been sleeping a miserable number of four hours the last couple weeks and it seemed it was finally catching up to her. She could feel her eyes heavy and a weight over her head.
Sometimes she wondered how her life would've turned out if she had decided to follow her father's footsteps instead of making her own path. That teaching job she was offered four years ago by Princeton's Department of History didn't sound too shabby right now and if it was still on the table she might've actually considered taking it. Sage loved her job, more than anything in fact, and she had fought her father for her choice of career with teeth and nails, but with Damian in the picture she was struggling with not having enough time to spend with him. He was always at daycare or with a babysitter. They barely had any chance of going out or doing something fun just the two of them as a family. There was also the fact that Damian was different that the other children. He was special. He needed her even more because of that.
Sage chewed on her bottom lip, checking up on him in the review mirror. He met her eyes and flashed her an enormous pearly white grin that immediately warmed her up to the very core.
They jolted abruptly when something crashed against the bumper car, flying over the hood and landing on the other side. Sage swallowed a yelp for the sake of her son who had caught his breath whimpering when she hit the brakes full force.
"Holy shit!" She cursed under her breath. Taking a deep intake, she took off the seatbelt and opened the door to get out. "Stay put and don't do anything unless I say so, okay?" Damian nodded, dazzled and dumbstruck by the impact but he ignored her and took off the seatbelt anyway.
Sage rushed towards the lump of flesh laying limp on the asphalt, praying to herself that she hadn't killed anyone or anything alive. The person was still heaving up and down which came as relief. She crouched down next to it and gingerly rolled it over, gawking at the sight of green leathery skin, yellow plastron and big shell.
Was she dreaming or had she run over an actual living giant humanoid turtle?
She was trying not to freak out when the turtle released an agonizing whimper and winced away from its right side. Sage quickly noticed the deep gash in its ribs, bleeding at an alarming speed.
"Okay," she breathed, running a trembling hand over her hair. "Okay, get a hold of yourself, Sage. It doesn't matter that it's a giant turtle, it doesn't matter at all. It's just another living being and he needs help." She drew another deep breath. "Okay."
Sage swung one of his bulky arms over her shoulders and struggled to bring him up. He was built like a SWAT and heavy as a mammoth she noticed as she wobbled clumsily towards her car. She feared being trampled by him if she accidentally lost her foot but with a lot of strength and even more stubbornness she managed to reach the car and open the back door.
Damian's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "What-"
"No time for explanations!" she cut him off short out of air. "Scoot to the front before I get squashed to death!"
Damian was fast in moving. Sage dropped the hurt turtle into the back seat, squeezing his long legs into the car so that she could close the door and then hurried inside as well, starting the engine and speeding down the road the fastest she could without breaking the speed limit. Another speed ticket was the last thing she needed.
She sparred a moment to watch Damian who was propped on his knees hugging the headrest gaping while staring at the figure in the back. He wasn't wearing the seatbelt. She scowled.
"Is that a giant turtleman?"
Sage hesitated. "Yes, yes it is."
Damian stared at her for a heartbeat. "Can we keep him?"
She chuckled, part of her tension dissipating.
Raphael was fuming by the time dawn broke and he got home.
First, he wasted half an hour - maybe more, he didn't know - losing his brother who had the terrific idea of chasing after him, which wasn't exactly a picnic in the park because Michelangelo might be a brainless idiot but he was the fastest of them. Then, when he finally went on with his duty as the Nightwatcher and when he was all pumped up to knock out the gang that was robbing a jewelry store he found some idiot in a green costume already on it.
Emerald Fist... Raph snorted humorlessly. Emerald idiot was more like it! Who did that guy think he was, intruding on Nightwatcher's territory like that? Those were his streets, his fights, his bad guys. He didn't need any help dealing with the crime in New York. He was more than fine on his own, had been since Leonardo had abandoned them for his own egoistical search of spiritual enlightenment.
He stepped into the lair, stretching his arms over his head, cracking his bones. Boy, he was sore.
He was expecting to be alone. Normally everyone was asleep by the time he got in but tonight he was surprised to find Donnie still awake. His brother was pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back. He was furrowing his eye ridge, scowling. He was worried, Raphael noticed.
"Mornin'," he mumbled quietly in an attempt to slither away and find peace and quietness in his room. Luck wasn't on his side however.
"Raph!" Donatello promptly walked up to him, blocking his way by grabbing him by the shoulders and facing him dead in the eye. "Did you see Mikey out there? He left right after you and I'm pretty sure he was following you too."
"Yeah, I saw 'im alright. Damn kid should be minding his own business. Why ya let 'im go after me?"
Donnie expressed outrage. "I didn't let him do anything! He was outta the lair before I could say a word!" He stopped to take a calming breath before asking, "well, where is he then?"
"How de hell should I know?"
"You just said you saw him!"
Raphael went around his brother and started up the stairs to his room. "Yeah, so? I saw him, lost him and haven't seen him since."
"Lost him? LOST HIM?! You mean he's out there on his own?! Raph, how could you!"
"Oh get a hold of yourself, Donnie," he replied, raising his voice. "Mikey's old enough t' go 'round on his own. I'm sure he's fine."
"We're talking about the same Mikey who nearly got himself killed by the Foot twice last month."
Raphael hesitated by the door with a sudden twinge of guilt tugging at the bottom of his heart. Maybe Donnie was right; he shouldn't have left Mikey alone like that. Who knows what kind of trouble he would get into?
"Look, he's probably wit' Casey by now, and if he ain't then he's definitely tryin' t' buy some pizza fer breakfast. I'll go look fer 'im if he ain't back by noon, a'ight?"
"You better!" Donnie called out as he disappeared into his room and fell on his bed with a sigh. He was just going to rest for a couple hours and then he'd go after Michelangelo. After all, he couldn't be into that much trouble if the city was all still intact and there was nothing about collapsing buildings or explosions on the news.