TRIGGER: PARTS WILL BE M RATED AND I will mention them.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the rights to TMNT. This is purely for fun and I do not make any money from my stories. I do own the rights to the other characters, intellectual and otherwise.

Leo is 23
Raph and Don are 4 months shy of 22
Mikey's nearly 20

The boys were all born in the States, but moved to South Africa when they were ten, so they use American English.
The boys and their families are all turtles and so is Candice. The boys use American English. The other characters are human and use South African English aka British English.

Monday, January 18, 7:58 a.m.

Hawk parked outside a house, checked that no one was around, donned his latex gloves, got out, picked the lock of the front door and went inside. The nickname stemmed from the tattoo of a hawk emblazoned on his chest, but he was also a violent predator of people. He glowered at the messy place. Papers littered the floor, coffee cups jostled for space with take-out boxes on the coffee table, and it smelled sour. The owners were definitely bad at cleaning and one in particular was extremely lazy. He hardly ever did the chores and let his partner do them. Hawk couldn't handle the smell, so he went into the kitchen, got a bottle of air freshener, returned to the lounge and sprayed. Then he went into the master bedroom and saw a laptop on the desk, which belonged to his target, Hamato Raphael. He booted it up and got the login screen. He tried several passwords, but was unlucky. Then he tried one of Hamato's favourite bands, The Killers, and typed it without spaces. Bingo. He was in. He planted a file of incriminating child porn and was about to shut down the PC, when he heard footsteps and a man's voice.
Shit. Fucking Hamato's home.
Hawk opened the closet and hid inside, hoping he wouldn't be discovered. He watched Hamato through the crack in between the doors. Hamato glanced at his PC. "Odd," he said. "I'm sure I shut it down. Is anyone here?" Hamato looked around the room. "Hello?" He shrugged. "I must have left it on." He shut down his PC, picked up his cell phone and left the house.
Hawk waited until he was sure Hamato was gone. That was close. He rummaged in Hamato's dresser and found his 9 mm Luger, took a pair of his underpants, placed it in a sealed plastic bag and stuffed it in his tog bag. Then he left, drove home and made an alteration to the gun: a silencer.

Later that day, Hawk was having a drink at the Cape Town Waterfront. Dressed in shorts, a T-shirt and sunglasses, he blended in easily with the tourists. For all anyone knew, he was an American on holiday. He even faked an American accent pretty well and managed to fool people with it most of the time. But fooling people was the last thing on his mind. He was dying to use Hamato Raphael's 9mm Luger in his rucksack. Hawk waited by the harbour for his intended victim to return from her ferry trip to Robben Island. She'd boarded it two hours earlier and was due back in an hour and a half. How he wished he could get rid of Hamato, but that wasn't the plan for now. Hawk's cell phone rang. Speak of the devil. It was Hamato. They were good friends, or at least Hamato thought that was the case. "Hi," Hamato said. "I'm headed ta Le Verona at the Waterfront ta meet my friend, Victoria Jones, for drinks. Do ta want ta join us?"
"What time is it?
"Five fifteen."
"I can't. I have to work late."
"Oh, okay. Maybe…"
"Oh shit, the signal's gone. I can't hear you." Hawk switched off his cell and placed it in his bag. The signal was fine, but the last thing he wanted was a conversation with Hamato. He hated "Mister Fucking Perfect Hamato". The bastard had ruined his life and he needed to pay.

Hawk's cell phone buzzed at 6:10 p.m. "Hi?"
"You asked me to tail Hamato."
"Yes, and?"
"He met a redheaded chick at Le Verona at the Waterfront."
"Did he see you?"
"No. I was at a table nor far from the bar, and judging by their body language, their conversation was heated. She threw his drink at him and stormed out."
"Did you hear what they said?"
"No, but I did hear her say "what an asshole" when she left. Then he drove home."
"Is he there now?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"Another car. Brunette is there with a kid, who looks like him. Does he have a kid?"
"Call me if he's on the move. If he's not, I'll have to postpone my job until he does."
"You got it."
As Hawk disconnected the call, he checked his watch. The ferry had arrived on time. He spotted his target, Marina Johansson, with her best friend Gina, who was Hamato's sister. They headed to the car park. Hawk was careful to stay a few feet behind them. He watched them get into Johansson's car. Enjoy your final hours, Johansson.

Hawk impatiently called his friend just after ten. "Has he moved yet?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"Sea Point Promenade."
"Call you after." Hawk sighed as his phone shrilled. "What? I'm busy now. He what? Then dump him. I'm sick to death of listening to your relationship crap. How you got together is beyond me." Hawk disconnected the call. Little brothers. Pain in the fucking ass.

Hawk drove to Johansson's home, donned latex gloves, a balaclava, grabbed his tog bag and picked the lock. Toys were scattered everywhere and he almost tripped over a toy car. Fuck. He went to the children's room and saw they were fast asleep. Then he went to the master bedroom, opened the door and saw Johansson and her husband, Sven, soundly asleep. Showtime. Hawk squeezed the trigger and a wide grin split his face, as he emptied the bullets into the couple. They didn't even wake and their once pristine white bedspread was now stained scarlet with their blood. Hawk laughed, delighted with his handiwork. Operation Revenge was in progress; sweet fucking revenge. He opened his tog bag, took out Hamato's underpants and put it into Marina's dresser. Now he'll never explain himself out of the mess. Then he dropped the Luger onto the floor. Job done. I'm starving. He left and headed to the nearest KFC. Then he drove home and sent a text. Mission complete. Man, I'm beat.