Disclaimer: "Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use."

Needless to say: I don't own TMNT. Nor am I expecting a profit from entering this story. It's merely a hobby of mine.

Okay: another story that's popping its head up, when I have others to attend to.

Summary:

Hayley's family is involved in crime. She has a steel leg; and understandably has trust issues. But when the mysterious Nightwatcher saves her; it sets into motion a dark, dangerous and mysterious plot that will change their lives forever.

Hayley and her friends: Kimberly, Ashley, Jessica and Nichole are attacked and are rescued by... mutant turtles.

Humans and Turtles have to work together to figure out what's going on.

But how will they manage with a family dispute, the mystery of the Foot's return; walking statues and strange beasts? All the while keeping Hayley away from her parents; who have dangerous secrets of their own?

Only time will tell...

Prologue

"It's too late."

Those three final and harshly spoken words broke a stifling silence that had fallen upon the house like a storm, and the tense, eerie calm before it. Hayley shifted where she stood, out of sight and out of mind. It was a simple movement. A simple shifting to the side; however that hollow thud of steel on wood echoed heavily into the tension that hovered, almost mockingly, in the air. She instantly stiffened. She was not meant to be out bed. Or even near the door, listen to the conversation – more like argument – happening in the lounge room. She was standing in the hallway. Dressed in a simple black nighty that fell past her knees. Along her chest were the words: 'Chocolate is Good for Me, but Bad for You'. No truer statement had ever been written for her. However, she was not meant to be in the hallway. She had been ordered to stay in her room, which was apparently the only place that she was safe in the entire world.

The sound of movement caused her to stiffen, her muscles refusing to move, but they coiled in preparation to flee. She felt her chest closing, her heart thudding as she held her breath...

Three...

She was going to die.

Two...

She was going to die.

One...

The sound of retreating footsteps caused her to release a shuddering of pent-up nervousness. She kept still, however, keening her ears for any sound that would betray movement behind the door. There was nothing. Then, she moved. She dragged her right leg, hobbling on a lion-carved walking stick towards the door. She cautiously gripped the handle. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest. She gritted her teeth angrily, and with a growl, shoves the door open...

There was no one there.

Sighing soundlessly, she shuffled as silently as she could towards a black-leather lounge. The room was garbed in black furniture and rugs. Mahogany wood was placed in an orderly fashion around the room. A twinging bookcase was perched beside a window that was the only entrance for a breeze. Shadows littered this room. She felt safe amongst them. She remembered a time when the room had been filled with colour. Photos of happiness, laughter and indignant amusement had filled the walls. Now, they were barren. Barren as the memories that were a distant, taunting dream of happiness and laughter. Sometimes, when she would close her eyes, she almost see her mother and her father leaning into one another, eyes filled with love. She would see her brother and her sister, arms thrown over each other's shoulders, giggling, before pushing each other away, complaining about germs.

The corner of Hayley's eyes began to sting with angry, bitter and remorseful tears – tears that never fell. Her tears had dried up long ago. In the beginning, they had fallen heavy and long into the lonely nights. These days, she would grow silent and withdraw into the shadows and she did this often. The darkness, the background and empty parks had become the places she felt most comfortable in. Suddenly, a consuming and scalding rage raced through her bloodstream, leaving her somewhat breathless and dizzy. She frowns as the feeling vanishes, leaving only lingering bursts of disgust and self-loathing. She looks down at her reflection on the table, idly noting her green eyes that had once been vibrant with life, were no dull and lifeless. Like a wilting rose at the sombre end of its life, she was tittering. Comprehension spun in her depths, her closets and chests filled with emotions and memories, dreams and nightmares had been left open. Something had caused an imbalance. She usually had them locked, but they were creaking open, ever so slowly. She could not understand this. She had locked them firmly and securely.

"Run away, run away," she chants, pulling her legs to her chest, rocking slightly, "Spread your wings and fly. Hold your head high and touch the sky. But do not cry, do not cry."

A flash of headlights.

A blink...

Screams of pain. Their pain. Her pain.

Watching life vanish from their eyes, wishing hers would disappear.

Flashing blue and red. People muttering, crying, screaming, concerned voices...

"Run away, run away. Spread your wings and fly. Hold your head high and touch the sky. But do not cry, do not cry."

The darkness taunted her with its clawed fingers running behind the moonlight. She breathed in deeply, trying to regain control or some resemblance of it. Slowly, she released her legs. She made it slowly to her feet, using the wall to upright herself. She clutched her walking stick, she retreated into her room. Stiffly, she dressed herself in a pair of pants that clothed one leg, but revealed her steel leg. She stared down at it for a moment, running a hand down its icy smooth side. Then, she was putting on shoes and packing a bag. Items that held the most value to her were the first to go into her overnight backpack. She fit in her jewellery box, photo album and her laptop and its accessories. She had a file containing the list of her books she'd collected over the years. Titles like Shakespeare, Sara Douglas and Kylie Chan, so she only had to take her sketch books. She grabbed her iPod off its stand, taking its rechargers. She packed in a few clothing and her personal stash of money she had collected from every one of her birthdays. Finally, she took a last look of the room she had spent growing up in. She took a photo of each corner and side with her IPod and then grabbed her digital camera on her bookshelf.

Everything else would have to be left behind. Along with her fear; that would be the most important to leave behind.

Hayley closed her eyes and entered her mindscape. She overlooked her closets and chests. She shoved everything inside and reattached their locks. She did a final sweep, making sure everything was in order. Then, she exited her mindscape and, pulling socks over her shoes to dull the noise, Hayley quietly traversed her house. She avoided the guest room, where she knew a certain person was sleeping. That person was someone Hayley had met time and time again. Her father had gotten himself involved in crime. The kind where, once you were in, you were always in. Until you were dead; and all family members were merely bargaining control chips. Hayley, however, was finally getting out.

If only she could just step outside without having a panic attack...

Then, the guest room door opened...

"What are you doing, girl?" a hard, baritone voice asked.

Hayley ran to her bike and thanked whatever god there was; and she didn't fall over as she rode away. She didn't dare turn around to see if she was being followed.

On the rooftops of Manhattan, a shadowed figure was crouched overlooking the streets. A leather-gloved finger was pressed to a helmet, a single reflective slit acting as a screen to see out, but apparently not in. A thing about that gloved hand was, it only had three sections, not five. All in all, the figure looked like a large, metal turtle. For once however, there was silence out on the streets. "Never lasts," a deep, Brooklyn accent muttered as he peered it an alleyway... then! "GET HER!" someone yelled... and on a bike, peddling like her life depended on it... was a girl. Behind her, were men on motorcycles raising bats in their hands.

"Speak the Devil's name," the male stood, "And who'll answer?" he asked, and then leapt off the building, watching the girl as she took a turn in her desperation to get away. He shook his head at her stupidity, but followed after her anyway. It wasn't in his nature to leave innocents to get hurt. So, he followed behind on his motorcycle. He ditched the motorcycle in the opposite alley and scaled the rooftops again. He peered over the ledge and his eyes widened. The girl had been pinned to the wall, her eyes were wide as the man holding her leant forward and whispered something into her ear.

Then, before he could even move, something happened. Something that stopped him in his tracks... "Threatening me won't work," the girl's monotone voice reached him on the roof, the dead tone in her voice surprising him. She leant forward, so close she could kiss her captor, "I'm not scared about my impending death. The question is, however, can the same be said for you?"

He leapt down before anything else could happen. The girl was left on the wall, strewn on the floor haphazardly. He turned back to face his opponents. No words were necessary. He made quick work of three grunts. They were easy enough to knock out. The other one however, was a little harder. "This ain't got nothing to do with you!" the man was saying, "Turn around and we can forget about all this."

"Not an option," he growled, and with a last move, threw the man into the wall and sending him unconscious. He turned to the girl and leant down beside her, his eyes widened at the prosthetic limb. He looked back into her eyes, "Don't be scared, I'm here to help."

"If I hadn't thought you'd help me," the girl replied, raising a single eyebrow mockingly, "I would have already run off. Since that's not the case, help me by helping me get up." The figure clasped his hands under her arms and brought her to her feet in one swift move. She looked around and then pointed at the ground, "Please hand me my walking stick. It's over there."

He looked it over, noticing the lion head, "Nice work."

"Made it while in hospital," the girl replied, running a finger over the groves as he handed it to her. "So, Nightwatcher, huh? Never would have thought I'd actually meet you."

"How'd you know I'm the Nightwatcher?"

"The beating up of thugs? Helping a damsel? The suit?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest, "Need I go on? Besides, it's not like you keep a low profile. You're never seen, sure. At least, not by the authorities. Doesn't mean there aren't any descriptions of you." She looked over the scene and then limped to her bike, "Broken? Perfectly typical!" She spun around and kicked the closet grunt in the balls, hissed and winced, and then walked away. "Fucking stupid insipid putrid foul motherfucking cocksucking bloody mongrels!" were the tamer parts of her muttering.

"Where are you going?" he asked, surprised at her determination to get moving. Most people would have wanted to go to the police, or at least a family member.

She stopped and looked over her shoulder, "I don't think that's any of your business. Thanks for saving me, but I'd better be going."

"At least let me give ya a ride," he offered. He didn't want to have to follow her around to make sure she didn't get hurt.

The girl folded her arms over her chest. Her gaze was calculative as she looked him up and down. He had to stop himself from fiddling, until finally, she said: "Fine."

"My ride's back this way," he said and waited until she had gathered her things and was beside him before leading the way.

The girl remained quiet as they walked past three alley's before arriving at his motorcycle. The girl's eye twitched as she looked at it, "Oh hell. I think I'd prefer walking."

"This will be quicker."

"To your inevitable end, sure. If I wanted to die, I'd rather die standing up, not crushed into the concrete."

"Are you always this optimistic?"

"I'm not paid to be optimistic."

"Just get on. The quicker we get going, the quicker you can get off the streets. Where we heading?" he asked, taking her belongings and putting them in the compartment below the seat.

She gave him the address and he climbed on. She hesitated for a moment then climbed on board. She held onto his back, hunched into him and then they were off.

Back at Hayley's home; two people stood in her room. They were her parents, but unlike parents who had just learnt their only daughter had run off: they weren't worried. They were cold, disappointed and embarrassed. The father in particular, had an evil gleam in his eyes as he looked around her room. A burn-scar covered the right-hand-side of his face, giving one of his eyes an added edge into creepy. The mother was a beautiful woman, ice-blue eyes and long black hair. She was slender and curvy, a smirk always in the corner of her lips although her eyes remained cold.

"She will be found," the mother said, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "There aren't many places she could go."

"I know, my dear," the father replied as he lead them outside their daughter's room. He paused at the door and closed it, locking it from the outside. "Let us find Hun. We have much to discuss with him."

Hand in hand, the two approached the man who was the father's third cousin, twice removed.

They weren't really related; but they law said they were. And family was important, was it not?

Hayley tapped the big-guy's shoulder, "Just turn here. The house is right there. There's an alley you can park in, if it suits you."

The Nightwatcher, as she knew him: he didn't reply, but he followed her directions. Once the engine was turned off, she clambered off the vehicle of impending doom and fell against the wall. Her breathing had shortened quickly into a panic-attack. Deep breathing was almost impossible as her heart tried its best to run away from her rib cage. Then, she felt hands on her shoulder. She peeked through her eyelids at the visor where the Nightwatcher's eyes hid.

"You need to calm down," he said. "I ain't giving you mouth to mouth if you die on me."

"You mean you went through all that trouble, just have me die of a panic attack?" she scoffed, "Some Vigilante you are." She shrugged off his shoulders, "I'm fine... it's everything just caught up with me. Could I have my belongings now? I wouldn't want to keep you from your... errands." He didn't reply; he just did as she asked. She hugged her bags to her chest and then stopped him as he made to leave. "Thank you. Really. If you ever need some assistance with something, just give me a call."

"I don't think that's a good idea," the Nightwatcher replied.

Hayley shrugged, "I like to repay my debts. How many people actually repay their debt to you?" she asked. He paused as she wrote down her cell number. She'd bought it herself with her own money. Her parents didn't know she had it. She'd left her other phone back there. "Keep the number. I can help with just about anything, except Vigilante work. Still, the offer is there. If you need some bandages, a meal, a drink, a chat? Just call," she pressed and handing him the slip of paper.

The Nightwatcher reached out and gently took the slip from her. She didn't smile with her mouth, but her eyes showed it all. At least, that's what she heard her friend's say. She gave him a bow and started walking to the building her friend stayed at. Her parents had kicked her out of house when she was 15. She'd gotten a job, bought an apartment and lived on her own. It'd been about a month since they'd seen each other last; and they'd known each other since they were 9. They were 19 now.

She heard the growl of the engine and watched as the Nightwatcher flew off into the night. She shook her head and fixed her bags as she stepped up to the building.

She rang the buzzer...

Kimberly Adams was not a woman to mess with. She was also a Black-Belt in karate and could break a man's femur with a simply punch. More like shatter them into a crumbling, blubbering mess. But that was a last resort. She had learnt karate to defend herself; but she'd found she was a natural. It was both a method of calming and of releasing the pent up rage that boiled beneath the surface. Her friend, Hayley, had been a natural as well. They'd shared their love for martial arts. Kimberly had preferred mixing Thai kick-boxing, Crane martial arts style and Kyokushin karate. Hayley had mixed a brutal combination of the Snake, Aikido, Ninjutsu and Kuk Sool. She'd been the best with Kimberly coming a close second. Then something happened that changed everything.

Hayley lost her leg. She could still fight, but not as proficient as she'd once been. She didn't return to practice, and was sorely missed by their Sensei. She still visited, but she would meditate and watch, rather than join fighting. No one would fight her anyways. It appeared, losing a limb instantly made her weak, and unworthy of fighting.

Looking into the reflective screen in her self-built dojo, Kim looked over her features. Her eyes were a blend of blue-green, ever shifting as her moods did. Her hair, long and fair was pinned in a messy bun atop her head. She loved Asian clothing; so she was dressed in a Chinese-style dress: the sides split to allow her to move freely. It was coloured black, with blue lilies covering from the waist downwards. She shifted stances in front of the mirror, settling in the customary crane position. The material resisted only slightly. Perfect.

Then, the buzzer rang...

Kim hurried to the intercom and blinked. It was Hayley. She pressed the button, "It's open, get in here."

Hayley cocked a brow at the screen, but opened the door, disappearing from sight. Kim looked around her apartment: Asian and European styles having blended together to make an interesting, but pleasing effect. Her chairs stood a customary five feet away from the tv, allowing room for her to stretch, listening to the music she played. Artworks of both European and Asian descent lined the cream walls, providing colour and interest. Against one wall; was her hobby: a few bonsai plants placed like a small garden she wanted to have one day. It led the way out to the rooftop terrace, where she would often watch the world go by.

There was nothing to fix up. Everything was in order. Good. As it should be. Smiling, Kim opened the door at the sound of a resonating, one tap; three-thud knock. There, stood Hayley, her emotionless visage set in place. Something was wrong. "Come in, come in," Kim said, ushering her inside. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Please," Hayley replied, walking inside like she owned the place and fell on to the chair. She didn't carefully sit down, neither did she make herself comfortable; she just plopped herself down, bags still piled onto her back. Now Kim was very worried. Usually Hayley would take off whatever bag she had, place it against the side of the chair, take a look-see of the couch, then sit down on end and shuffle until she was comfortable: then end up with her back against the corner, one arm slung over the arm-rest and her right steel leg over her left one. She hadn't done that. Hayley noticed her regard, "A coffee and I'll talk."

Kim nodded and rushed to make one coffee with some hot-choc powder and a jasmine tea. She balanced the tray with a few cookies and entered the lounge-room. Hayley had taken off her bags and settled into her comfortable pose. That relaxed Kim. She placed the tray on the coffee table and sat on the other side. She picked up her tea, "Talk," she said, and took a sip. Ah, heaven!

Hayley took a long drag of her coffee, apparently not even noticing the temperature or the taste as she gulped it down. Now the worry was back. "I haven't been honest with you about what's going on at home," she said, placing the cup down. She pressed her temple against her fist and glanced at Kim. "My parents are... involved in crime. Deeply involved. I've only been aware of it since I was... eight, when... when... Grandma died. She told me everything. Why we had so much money, why my parents were gone for long periods of time. My brother knew, being 12. I never knew. All I had known was a lie. Where once there was light, there was darkness. When they found out I knew... they stopped pretending. It was Grandma's wish I didn't know; and with her being dead and me knowing the truth; they... Well, it's self explanatory."

Kim held her thoughts, taking a sip as Hayley paused. She was struggling. She picked up the cup and twirled it in her hands. "What happened?" Kim asked.

Hayley sighed, "A year later, I found you and sensei found us. My mother had my... sister then. When we were 15, the car crash happened. And... four years later, things have gotten worse. I wanted out. I ran away. Will you let me stay?"

Kim smiled and approached her best friend. "You're my best friend," she said. "You were there to help me when my parents kicked me out. You were there when I was lonely, despite still healing from the car crash. Of course you can stay here."

Hayley smiled and stood, "Well, enough of this show of emotions and bad memories: what's for dinner?"

Kim shook her head, "Always thinking with your stomach."

"It's talking to me," Hayley replied with a straight face.

Kim turned her gaze heavenward. Why me?

And soo... that's the prologue. Hmm. What'dja think?