Prologue
Fall of the Hamato Dynasty
"How has it come to this?" Kurai asked seemingly to no one, despite being surrounded by the Foot ninja, allies from the Purple Dragons and her master himself – The Shredder. They'd stormed the Turtle's strong hold, been prepared for the battle of a lifetime, one last push to end the madness…only to enter a broken place, security disabled, traps and dangers deactivated. In fact the entire ward, the section of the city so heavily controlled by the Turtles had been empty. No soldiers, no robots, no opposition from the border wall right up to the front doors.
Hun stepped forward, flanked by some of his Dragons, moving in front of their allies. At the top of the Turtle's tower, lying in blood spattered ruin…were their enemies already dispatched. The former street tough turned rebel leader had seen many fights and battle fields but few like this. In the still burning wreckage of an exoskeleton the charred remains of Donatello smoldered, filling the air with a rank smell only slightly over powered by the stench of ozone and fuel burning off. Hanging from the beams above him, entangled a long chain wound about his neck, pinned by kunai was Michelangelo, his fingers frozen in the futile attempt to get himself loose even in death. Each had this little piece of paper hung on them, pinned somehow over their hearts. "What the hell is this?" Hun asked, taking a closer look at the characters, despite his lack of ability to read them.
Kurai was looking at a similar piece of paper pinned over the heart of the slumped body of Leonardo. Both of his blades were sunk into his abdomen, his prized weapons – a pair of silvered Sai – pinned his wrists to the arms of his throne, forcing him to sit up where he was. There was a hole in his chest, behind the paper, where someone had plunged their hand through his armor, plastron and chest to rip out his heart, which sat in his lap, no longer bleeding. The characters on the paper read 'Severed thus, the thread of souls'. Vaguely she remembered it was a curse to prevent reincarnation.
"It's a seal." Kurai said, moving to look at the brushwork, admiring the penmanship. "What is going on?" They knew the leader, turned shugenja – a mystic ninja – used them frequently to inflict pain but none had seen his seals do such damage before. None of the turtles would ever turned on the other… their master would simply not allow it.
They had… once… humanity's only hope against the turtle menace had been slain by his siblings many years ago.
Outside something exploded, shaking the floor, lightning crashing and illuminating the hole in the wall leading to the terrace and garden outside. Everyone snapped into positions, the Foot taking to the shadows, Dragons arming themselves and taking up positions around the room. Hun, Kurai and Shredder moved forward, the leader of the Foot Clan first.
None were fully prepared for the sight that greeted them.
Splinter, the head of the Hamato clan, was flagging beneath the attacks of one of his own children! His armor was half blow off, tattered pages of seal papers hanging in ragged edges from his fingers.
"You will pay… for what you have done!" The rat shouted, twirling his walking stick in one hand and preparing to attack. "Prepare to die DEMON!" The rat launched himself in a flurry of attacks, making the turtle he combated move on the defensive. Steel rang out as the single katana the hilt wound in blue fabric and dark leather, parried and deflected every blow artfully. The hairs on Karai's arms raised on end as another seal was used, a loud shout from the sword-turtle releasing its power, arcing lightning from the sword's tip as he returned the attack, forcing the rat into retreat once more.
"You have a lot to answer for… Master." The turtle hissed his voice deep and gruff. The tattered and worn brown coat he wore billowed in the breeze, the long ends of his bandana snapped and curled, like the tails of an angry dragon. Emerald green skin was marked by scar upon scar, stained crimson from dozens of wounds, charred along his arm where flame or lightning had already touched him. At his belt were his Sai, sticking from an inner pocket were what appeared to be nunchaku bound in orange cloth. "I don't know what went wrong here Splinter…I don't know what made you and your family do what ya did but it ends here!" The blade twirled from one hand to the other, caught in confident and determined fingers. Karai remembered in the stories her father told, that eyes were the windows to the soul. From here, all she could see was his red bandana, where an eye hole was meant to be was sewn shut, ugly scarring peaking around the edges.
"Raphael…" Shredder hissed… no one had seen him in years…well they knew where to look if they wanted to; his skeleton was still on display in the hall of trophies a floor below… "But how?"
Splinter wasn't about to entertain his unexpected guests, rather he let out a loud growl and ran for Raphael, a blazing seal in his hand, chanting as he ran… this would be the end. They'd seen this seal before- one that drained a soul into nothing more than a gemstone – Michelangelo had a collection of them that he wore all the time, the first belonging to April and Casey.
Raphael responded in kind, howling in fury as he ran to meet his 'master'. In the fading light of the afternoon sun made his blade shine golden, his body a blur in the wind. The two passed a clash of magic and steel so bright everyone had to cover their eyes and turn away.
Shredder regained his senses first and looked up, expecting to see the rat holding a gemstone, ready to fight for their lives and die for their freedom… and was grateful to be disappointed.
Raphael stood with his back to his fallen master, flicking the blood off of his single blade. Splinter's head and arm were several feet further behind him than the rest of his body, the torn paper of his seal blowing away in the breeze before igniting all on its own. Raphael lifted a hand into the air in front of his face, muttering a silent prayer, and the body burst into flame; thick black smoke rising into the air as he turned to face the others there.
He looked old, and worn, his expression one of profound grief and sorrow. "Forgive me." He muttered in Japanese, voice thick and deep as he twirled his blade up over his shoulder into the sheath on his back. One sleeve of his coat remained intact; the other was burned and full of holes, the flesh beneath damaged in time he'd regain use of it. Around his wrist, a few remaining paper seals rustled in the wind, tangled in a band of purple cloth. He approached the gathered 'heroes' and paused, seeing all of them tense, prepare to attack. The wound over his left eye was ugly, like something had clawed at his face and took his eye with it. The stained and tattered red fabric barely covered the injury, yet hid the worst from view. That single, emotion filled amber eye observed them all for a time, before the view of his tumultuous emotions closed in hardened determination. Slowly, painfully, he knelt, bowing low enough to press his forehead to the rough stones of the path on the garden of the 78th floor of the Turtle's tower sanctum.
"It is over…the turtles are no more… I surrender myself to your mercy." He spoke loud enough to be heard by all outside. "You may have my life… in exchange I beg of you to spare any of my siblings who you may find wandering your world." The gathered heroes looked at each other in bewilderment before looking back down at the kneeling turtle. "None of this is their fault, and I gladly bare the responsibility for the events of today."
The silence was thick and oppressive, the coming darkness for once didn't seem so threatening to the gathered… save to the kneeling turtle. He wished faintly he had the forethought to watch the sun go down, it could be his last. It didn't matter much to him, he told himself, just another day. He hoped Leo had listened, that he Don and Mike were well outside of the city by now, finding a place in this world that was not theirs to be safe, to be free… and reunited. The old soul was ready to die, had been for nearly a decade. He wasn't however prepared for the words that filled the silence, though he should have been.
"Secure the building, let our auxiliary troops in and get me control of the computer systems." Shredder bellowed, motioning to his troops, all of them responding as their master willed it. "Take this turtle into custody, relieve him of his weapons and ensure he has no seals on him…" Raphael glanced up at the mask of the Shredder, inside rankling at having to surrender to him but he had to. Lives depended on him, lives of siblings that were not his own, that had suffered as much as he had but now had a second chance. "We will hold him for questioning. I want answers."
As the Dragons and Foot surrounded him he got to his feet, did as told providing little resistance. His mind was elsewhere, far away; justifying, he was sure, the slow and painful end he was about to be given. It would be worth the sacrifice… he'd been making them all his life… what did one more matter? The blood of his family – yet not his family – stained his hands and he couldn't bear to look at them. Elsewhere he hoped his siblings – again his own and not at the same time – would take full advantage of this second chance. His last hope, as he was moved down back to street level, Karai standing at his side looking at him time and again… was that doe-eyed kid listened to his advice… and said what he needed to say before it was too late and lost something important.
Raphael allowed himself to be disarmed and tossed into a holding cell –the back of a converted armored car – which had been designed to hold the other turtles should they live through the encounter. With the door closed, eyes off of him, all of his arsenal and personal belongings gone…He leaned his head back against the cold wall and let the tears flow…only Karai, who was watching him through a closed feed camera in the truck, was a whiteness to his silent sobs.
How had it come to this, she asked herself again as they drove off, back to base. What had happened here? The only one who knew that sat in the back of the truck, covered in the blood of his own family. Would he talk? Would they have to make him talk? She sighed and looked away from the camera. She'd get her answers… but not now. There was victory to savor and plans to move forward. Too much hinged on this day and now more hinged on continuing the momentum and reclaiming the entire island, the territories that once belonged to the turtles. She glanced once more at the camera, heart twisting at the sight despite her orders not to…
The truth… for now… would have to wait.
