Chapter 1: Bored
Leo sighed as he stared at the family picture next to Sensei's shrine. He was bored. Not the kind of bored that goes away when you do something you find entertaining, but the kind of boredom that cannot be cured. It was like an insatiable hunger, gnawing away at his brain, picking at what was left of his sanity until all that was left was one thought- with no villains left to fight, this city didn't need them anymore. Sure there were the Purple Dragons, but there were only so many times you can knock the same guy unconscious before it starts to get repetitive. And if there was one feeling Leo hated, it was feeling useless, unwanted.
Even when Sensei was still alive and their only concern was stopping the Kraang, he still hated feeling useless. Like when Raph's pet turtle, Spike, got into some mutagen and tried to kill his brothers, where was he? Playing tea party with a little girl. Granted, it was to get back a canister of mutagen before anyone else could become- as some would say- a monster, but still. He wasn't there when his brothers needed him, and he still suffers from self-blame when one of his brothers or their friends get hurt in any way, shape, or form.
Now, after Sensei's passing, he is even more protective of his brothers than before, if that is even possible. He was sure he wasn't the only one going stir crazy being cooped up in the lair like this. Which is why he made an executive decision for all of their mental health's, and took them out on a training run. Later he would look back in regret on this decision, and ask himself why they couldn't have just gone over to April's instead on traipsing about on the rooftops on what looked like was going to be a stormy night.
As they passed the now-empty TCRI building, Leo paused on the rooftop, making Raph almost bowl him over.
"What the shell, man? Give a turtle some warni-" Leo shushed Raph by holding up one finger and using the other to make a series of hand motions.
Donnie and Mikey, now on the rooftop with their siblings, flipped away from the shadows in the corner of the roof that Leo had motioned to, landing behind their older brothers without a sound. Leo swiftly drew his katata blades when he recognized the flash of moonlight on a blade.
A swift shadow leapt fluidly from the corner like a panther pouncing on it's long-awaited prey. All of the turtles jumped away, but the shadow picked a target and stuck to him- Leo. It was all Leonardo could do to keep even an inch away from the long blade even he had never seen the likes of before.
The sharp blade that looked to be slightly shorter than the shadow's arm swooped dangerously close to his neck, but Leo could sense that for some reason, this living weapon was holding back- waiting for the perfect moment to strike- which was scarier than he thought it would be. Leo had been watching this strange man- he had decided it was a man, there was just this air about male fighters, a sort of cockiness no other fighter he had ever encountered possessed- and knew that he could have ended this fight the moment he landed a mere foot from the teenager, but didn't, and as the fight wore on, Leo's heart sank as he felt he had figured out the reason for this assassin's hesitation.
After some time, when all of the turtles were bloody, bruised, and battered, the man- seemingly without a scratch on him- dragged them over to the edge of the rooftop. Finally in the light of the waxing moon, this once shadowy figure became clearer, solid, as his towering form was revealed to them.
And it was terrifying.
Now, Leo was not a turtle easily frightened, but this man- if you could call him that- rivaled even the Shredder's menacing appearance.
The man, now revealed to them in the light, seemed like something out of a nightmare. It looked to Leo, who was nearly unconscious from the beating he and his brothers had just received, like the assassin would have stood nearly a full head taller than Sensei, had he still been alive. He was wearing a mask with just one eye hole, and his visible eye nearly glowed in the pale moonlight, making it seem to the foggy-minded turtle that this man really was a demon. The orange cloth tails trailing from the back of the killer's mask fluttered in the cold breeze, and when he spoke, it would have sounded comforting if he had not been the one to just hand them their shells.
"So you four are supposed to be the ones who saved the world from those little alien brains? My, my, you are so disappointing in person." When he started speaking, he lightly placed his foot on Leonardo's plastron. With every sultry word spoken, he applied a smidgen more pressure, until the injured turtle felt like his plastron was going to cave in from the force being used. "I don't suppose I've properly introduced myself- my name is Deathstroke, but soon, you shall call me Master, little turtle," this time, he was speaking directly to Leo, whose fears had been confirmed.
"What the shell are you talking about?" Raph growled out from the bottom of the haphazard turtle-pile on the roof's edge. "Leo, who is this joker?"
Oh, Raph, Leo thought, I'm sorry to have to put you through what's going to happen next, little brother.
Instead of answering Raphael with words, Leo shook his head and made another series of hand signals. Then, with all the force he had left to give, he grabbed the ankle attached to the foot holding him down and restricting his breathing, and pushed. He pushed with everything he had, knowing intuitively that his little brothers' lives most likely depended on him taking this mad man with him over the edge of the building.
This man- Deathstroke, he said his name was- as strong as he seemed to be, stumbled backwards just enough for Leo to get back on his feet and lunge for the mercenary's suit. Leo bunched the front of the uniform in his fists and pulled backwards at the same time he felt his heels touch the lip of the building. Suddenly the wind was rushing through his bandana tails, and the cool air, however numb it was making him, still spit spikes at his exposed skin, but he couldn't shiver. He could hear a muffled cry of both rage and pain when they hit the ground, but all he heard was a dull thud. No crunch of bones breaking on the sidewalk, no trickle of blood on the back of his head, no new wounds besides the ones he had gained during the fight. He could feel he was laying on his front, on something warm, and briefly wondered why he couldn't open his eyes. The last thing Leo felt before the warm, inviting darkness claimed him was a small prick at the back of his neck, and the feeling of warmth flooding his system.
Leo could faintly hear the muffled cries of his brothers from the rooftop 30 stories up, and the last thought to run through his slowing mind was, Aw, shell.
