A/N: Sorry for the delay on this guys! School is winding down for me (only a month left!) so I should have lots more free time to update around that time. :) Hope you enjoy this next installment. Please, as always, drop me a line at the end to let me know how I did; I can't improve if I don't know what's wrong. Thanks, and stay awesome :)
The day had long since faded into night as the boys made their way slowly back to their house, wishing every step of the way that they did not have to return. Their home, if it could be called that, was a miserable place. An alcoholic father and absent mother had made life difficult for both young boys. They were only able to escape all troubles when they were below with their green friend. The glorious hours below, though, made returning all the more difficult and they often wished to return home with Raphael and reside in the sewers rather than return to their own home.
On the worst of several dismal apartments deep within the New York City slums an abused, tattered door hung limply from its frame, seeming to strain against the hinges' grasp as if trying to flee such an oppressive estate. Crumbling brick steps lead up to the building, mosses flourishing in the gaps of the walkway. No shred of light touched the structure from without and an eerie blue television glow was the only sign of life within. The few paint flecks that still clung to the walls were reminiscent of happier times of the distant past, their stark whiteness standing out against the gloom.
The door issued a loud groan of protest as the Matthew pushed it open tentatively, and the two boys hurried inside. Taking care to close and lock the front door behind them, the boys retreated to the bedroom they shared. Matt immediately flopped down on the thin lumpy mattress in the corner and stared up at the decaying ceiling. Mel mirrored his elder brother's actions. After several minutes of silence, Melvin rolled onto his side, raising his arm to prop up his head. "What d' ya think it's like at Raph's house?"
" I dunno.. I wanna see it one day, though an' meet his brothers too!" Mat replied, flipping to face his brother. The two grinned at the prospect of having more turtle friends. "They're ninjas too! Raph needs ta teach us to be ninjas like him!"
Mel's face brightened, and then fell, "Yeah! But Mat I tol' Raph I'd bring him pictures! Where 'm I gonna get pictures!?"
Mat shrugged, and opened his mouth but his response was lost as the door flew suddenly open, slamming against the nearest wall further deepening the preexisting hole there. From thedoorway a balding, meaty man leered in, reeking of the sour stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes.
"Ay! Where you little shits been?"
The two boys jumped nervously to their feet. "Jus' went out walkin', Dad." Mat replied, stepping protectively in front of his younger brother.
"Walkin where?" The man's bloodshot eyes narrowed.
The boy crossed his arms and tilted his head, "Around the neighborhood."
"Bring me anything?" his father asked, a threatening edge creeping into his voice.
"Yeah, just one." Mat pulled the elderly woman's wallet from his pocket and tossed it into his parent's outstretched hand.
Grasping the wallet in his paw, the man quickly riffled through its contents, extracted a lone twenty dollar bill, and brandished the bill violently in his fist. "Twenty dollars! That's it? Twenty damn dollars!?"
Matthew stared unflinchingly into his father's reddening face. "We didn't have time for more. Not many people were out today."
Grabbing the front of his son's shirt and shaking him, the adult growled, "Empty your pockets, boy!"
"I ain't got nothin' else!" he protested.
The man shoved his son roughly into the wall and backhanded him, a large ring leaving a gash on Mat's cheek. "I said turn 'em out !"
Face still stinging, Mat fought back tears as he slowly turned his pockets inside out, revealing little more than excess lint.
His father's face deepened into a dark purple as he rounded on the younger brother. "You. Turn yours out too."
Melvin silently complied, quivering as his father's rage built at the sight of his also empty pockets. Matthew stepped forward again, hoping to draw attention to himself and away from his little brother.
"We ain't got nothin' else. See?"
Slobber dripping from his lips and dark circles beneath his eyes gave the boy's father a rabid look as he advanced on his elder son.
"Where'd ya hide it ya piece of shit! Where's the rest of my money!"
He grabbed a fistful of Mat's hair, and slammed the boy's head into the wall repeatedly. Matthew cried out in pain, tears, sweat, and blood streaming freely down his face. The man paused momentarily and smiled sadistically, "One last chance." He locked eyes with Mat, daring his child to defy him.
Matthew steeled himself and forced a swallow, the bitter taste of iron burning his throat. Lifting his head, he met his father's gaze. "We don' have nothin' else, honest.."
"Again my son!" The elderly rat demanded. "You must finish this kata correctly before you may join your brothers for supper."
Raphael sighed; he knew better than to complain during practice; however, that made him no less tired. Leonardo had completed the kata effortlessly and was dismissed with praise for his excellent form. Donatello had scraped by as well, his kata passing Master Splinter's critical eye by a slim margin, and Michelangelo, like Leo, he flowed easily between the strikes with natural skill. Only Raphael remained his frustration building as he failed, once again, to master a simple kata.
"Focus my son. You must channel your inner energy and focus." Master Splinter raised an eyebrow and nodded toward his student. "Do it again."
Raphael growled, but assumed the beginning stance, feet together, back straight, palms pressed together, and bowed stiffly, his bright amber orbs never leaving his rat master's face. Stepping outward with his left foot and bending his knees, the young turtle performed a series of punches. Then sliding his right foot backwards, he adopted a defensive stance transitioning from there to various kicks and a jump, landing facing Master Splinter directly. Panting, he bowed again, waiting apprehensively for Splinter's pass or fail.
"No, Raphael." Splinter sighed, "Too sloppy. Again."
Raphael howled in annoyance, "Masta' Splinta'! I was at least as good as Donny! why're ya makin' me keep doin' it?!"
Splinter silenced him with a glare. "Raphael. You will retire to your room until I come for you."
"Hai sensei.." the young hung his head and slowly made his way to the room the four boys shared. Reaching the room's furthest corner, he crossed his arms and slumped to the floor to brood.
