12 years later/present/day of Leo's disappearance…..

Splinter lifted his head from his hands. After his sons had left that day, he'd begun setting up for training. When only four of his sons came back and told him Masolino was missing, he'd bolted out of the lair with his heart in his throat and headed to where the boys had started their game. Picking up Masolino's scent, he'd followed it. What he'd found at the end of it had chilled him to the bone and caused his stomach to plummet. He'd crouched beside the fresh corps, searching him in vain for a pulse he'd known was nonexistent. Picking up his son's trail once more, mixed with a foreign human scent, he'd followed it up the ladder to the surface. Upon reaching the surface, his shoulders had slumped with the agonizing realization that his son had been abducted and that the abductor was apparently a killer. He'd made his way back to the lair with his spirit absolutely crushed. Not long before, he'd lost his wife and daughter. Now, one of his adopted sons had been abducted by a killer and most likely because he'd witnessed a murder. It'd been too much for him then, forcing him into himself for days.

He was almost at that point now. With Leonardo now missing, it dug up old memories, opened old wounds, and made him feel as if the whole world had come to a standstill and begun crumbling around him. It reminded him of how his sons, so young at the time, had grown up and forgotten about their missing brother, making him a figment of their young imaginations.

And he'd let them.

This stung him the most, making him feel worse and worse every time he thought of Masolino, but by now it felt too late to tell them the truth. One day he would, but he wanted to show them their brother in the flesh. As the years passed, that possibility seemed to get farther and farther away. He slipped a hand into his robe, going for the pocket sewn inside over his heart, and pulled out a picture. In it were his sons, all five, in the middle of a training session. It had been taken barely a week after their fourth birthday, or mutation day as they'd grown to call it, and just a month before Masolino's abduction. In the picture, Leonardo and Raphael were sparring in a playful sort of way while Donatello tried to avoid the water balloons that Michelangelo and Masolino were throwing, which was distracting their sparring brothers. His eyes settled on Masolino and Michelangelo. Those two had been quite the pair. When Michelangelo had mad his missing brother into a figment of his imagination, it had shocked Splinter to the core.

He concentrated on Masolino's face, frozen forever in a look of pure delight. Splinter smiled faintly and tucked the picture back into its pocket over his heart which was heavy with the guilt that he never really made an attempt to find Masolino, but he knew for a fact that his son was still alive. He couldn't explain it, but he just knew.

(LINE BREAK)

On a dock, somewhere in northern Russia, stood a male figure wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black, sleeveless and unzipped, hoodie with his hood popped up. A brown mask was tied tightly around his left wrist with the eyeholes on the bottom, against his skin. It was old and had a few tears on the ends, proving that he wore it often. Most would probably have frozen in this cold, but he'd spent his whole life out here and the cold no longer bothered him. That's not to say he wasn't cold; the goose bumps on his skin, above his plastron, which had somehow grown so much into his skin that they were virtually one in the same, and covering his arms, were proof of that.

Feeling rather than hearing someone approach, he turned to see a man with dark brown hair and brown eyes approach. The man was wearing a leather jacket and cargo pants tucked into a pair of combat boots with a bolo knife on his hip. When the man reached him, the two stood side by side as they both gazed out into the harbor to watch a large cargo ship make its way towards them.

Neither spoke.

As another person approached, they continued to watch the ship. The newcomer joined them silently, setting down two duffle bags.

She was a mutant dhole with short, but thick, dark rust red fur, a black muzzle, black ear tips, black tail starting close to its base, black hands, a scar on her left forearm, and cobalt blue eyes. She wore a pair of skinny jeans tucked into a pair of black elk skin boots and a black, faux leather, bomber's jacket, zipped up to just below her breasts to reveal a dark blue top beneath. A set of throwing knives, a six inch dirk, and a chain whip hung on her belt. Алена Лаврова was tattooed in bold black letters in a bald patch at the base of her neck. The first figure, who was situated between them both, had a similar tattoo on the base of his neck as well. Only his read Тобиас Рыжков. The man also had one on his own neck which read Михаил Рыжков.

The cargo ship had almost reached the dock now.

"You will receive your first assignment as soon as you reach the apartment, from what I hear. The man who is employing you both has been a customer of the Cult for many years. He is a hard man, but you will do well, of that I am certain." The man said as the ship docked and the ramp was lowered. The dhole placed a fist over her heart and bowed her head to him, as did the other mutant.

"Spasibo, General." She said as the human returned the Cult salute. All three dropped their hands back to their sides. The dhole picked up her duffle bags and waited for the other mutant to do the same with his.

Before he could, the General spoke up. "Alyona, could you give me a moment with my son?"

"Of course, General." Alyona said, bowing her head once more before heading off to the ship. The remaining mutant turned to his father, taking off his hood to reveal a dark green mutant turtle. On the back of his hand and down his neck to the rest of his back, blending into the one at the base of his neck, were thick black lines of tattoos with no particular pattern. Beneath and around these were scars, light with age, covering the place where his shell used to be. Even after three years, it made his heart ache as they reminded him of the pain his son went through. His son looked at him with a questioning hint in his storm grey eyes.

"Something wrong?" Tobias asked him.

"No, no. I just wanted to say my goodbyes in private." Mikhail answered. Tobias nodded, smiling at his adoptive father.

"So, I guess I am going home." He said. Mikhail nodded. He'd made sure that his adopted son knew exactly where he came from and why Mikhail had done what he had when he took him. He'd made sure that Tobias knew who his family was. That part had been difficult since Mikhail had never seen them. He simply knew that Tobias had four brothers and a father. Over the years, even Tobias had forgotten everything he knew about them

"Just do not get side tracked. You will be able to search for them, but I still need you doing your job." Mikhail said.

"Of course, father." Tobias answered. The two hugged and Tobias picked up his bags and headed up the ramp of the ship to join his partner. This was going to be a long trip, just like the last time he'd made it.

Spasibo- Thank you