Okay, it's been a while since I updated this story so I apologize but, in my defense, I think it helps me dwell on what parts to put into it. There are actually 10 storylines I have written out and each chapter consists of me picking and choosing which parts of which story to put in. No fears, though, it all has a point and it all has a destination and, better yet, it all coincides before the end.

TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and the Foot © Mirage Studios
story © Turtlefreak121

In Cold Blood
Chapter Three: A Spider's Web

January 23, 1933

Seeing his friend ahead, Saki slowed the truck, the old engine spluttering and spewing fumes in reply before sluggishly obeying. The vehicle at last came to a stop and Saki leaned over, opening the passenger door and smirking to his old friend.

Yoshi looked completely shocked as he reluctantly neared the machine. Saki only grinned further at his reaction.

Leaning forward, Yoshi looked around the inside of the truck before blinking at Saki himself. "You have a car?" he asked, suspended in his own disbelief. "You know how to drive?"

"You look surprised, my friend," young Saki laughed before motioning for the fellow traveler to enter the vehicle. He waited somewhat impatiently as Yoshi drug in his luggage and the cage of his nonsensical pet before pressing his foot down against the pedal, taking off with yet another splutter. "I borrowed the truck from our boss."

"Our boss?" Yoshi asked in surprise.

"From our job at the docks," Saki somewhat answered as he pulled his concentration from the conversation and more upon the road as he turned and begun his way on the cluttered road of people racing back and forth, attempting to make way for the slow moving truck.

Slowly, Yoshi sat back in his seat. His mind was reeling yet again, his face expressing utter confusion before leaning forward again. "I have been gone for many days, Saki. Are you telling me that we have a job in this country already?"

"We're in America, Yoshi," the other reminded him as they peddled along the road, the truck rumbling and roaring the entire way, hardly obeying Saki Oroku's incessant stomping on the gas. "I also got us a home."

The fellow immigrant was flabbergasted. He leaned back into his seat, clutching to his precious rat's cage, as he desperately attempted to understand everything that had just happened. His eyes slowly turned upon his friend again. "Are the streets made of gold as well?"

"Hell no," Saki retorted before gesturing toward the front window, his own eyes following the trials of pooling water and crumbling brick before them. "Can't you see for yourself?" He rolled his eyes as they bumbled along, the car hitting each obtrusion on the road like a death defying jump. "We've not gotten to the right parts of America yet to see the golden roads. That's expensive—they can't use it everywhere."

Nodding in acknowledgement, Yoshi rubbed his head. He felt so strange in this faded sunlight. It was not a bright light yet it irritated his face after spending such a long time in the closed quarters of Ellis Island. "What is our home like?"

"Small, but we're not going there," Saki stated as he shook his head, attempting to rid his mind of the irritable chattering. "I cannot believe you still have that rat!"

"Why aren't we going home?" Yoshi questioned worriedly, his face slightly dropping. "I would like to see our home. I've seen nothing but that quarantine room for so long."

"Yes, this is true, but we're very lucky you got out after twenty days," Saki stated as he turned on the road, growling at the crowds of people delaying in their scattering from his truck. "We're going to meet our boss at the docks."

Yoshi stared at Saki sourly. "I am in no condition to be seeing anyone, Saki-san."

"You are if you want to keep this job," Saki Oroku corrected his friend before coming to a halt. "This was the last day that he was going to wait to meet you. It is very honorable of him to hold on a position for you just on my word alone. Do you really want to insult him with such attitude?"

"No!" Yoshi defended before rubbing his face. "Saki, I don't know what we're even doing for a job! Is it anything I know about?"

"Should be," the friend responded as he slid out of the vehicle and sent Yoshi a wry look. "You remember how to fish, don't you?"

Reluctantly, Yoshi put down the little rat's cage and began to make his way out of the truck. "I will be back, little friend… I hope," he muttered before shutting the door and rushing to catch up on the dock with Saki. He looked to his friend and twirled around, unsure of who or what he was looking for before glancing at Saki. "Where is this honorable boss?"

"Not here just yet, Yoshi, busy man," Saki explained fondly. "Good worker, hard worker. He will be here soon but you should see the Mar before you talk to him."

"The who?" Yoshi questioned ignorantly. "Saki, speak slower! I have not been here for all the days that you have. I don't know what's going on."

"The Mar is the boat," Saki stated as they came to a boat. "And it is a very wonderful ship. It has done us very well in the past days. We haven't caught anything but the others on the boat assure me that they know what they are doing, getting the fish used to us for the week to come."

As they stopped, Yoshi looked about questioningly. He blinked as the only boat that seemed even close to a fishing vessel was the rusted, barnacle covered ship ahead of him. He did not seem very impressed. In fact he appeared rather disenchanted with the entire situation.

"Is this the boat?" Yoshi questioned with a wave of his hands. "She does not even look as though she could float."

"She is fine," Saki refuted with a scowl forming over his brow as he realized just how negative his friend was being with the entire situation. "What is the matter with you? Did I pick up the wrong person? You have acted strangely ever since I met you on the pier, friend."

Yoshi frowned and looked to Saki. "I met an old woman on the pier before you came, Saki-san," he muttered lowly. "Strange old woman with eyes like milk and skin that hung off of her like a loose tarp."

Saki stared at him. "Is this so?"

"Yes, she seemed to be from Nihon but her voice was strange, like that woman that was in the barracks beside us on the boat," Yoshi expressed slowly. "She kept calling me 'Oseph' and was warning me about some sort of danger. About some Pharaoh? What is that even?"

Not paying too much attention, Saki nodded and looked over the Mar yet again. "I heard something similar from this sort of religious place not far from our home. Christianity—like the missionaries that came to Kento that one time."

"I did not talk to those people."

"I didn't either, but I overheard some things," Saki admitted as he shrugged. "I do not know much about Western Religion so I do not know what she meant, if anything. Do not worry about that stuff, worry about your job."

Yoshi frowned before tilting his head. "Why? What do you mean?"

Saki's eyes directed themselves over Yoshi's shoulder and immediately turned to see a round Caucasian man in a tan suit making his way across the dock. His straw hat was setting on his head lightly like a bird in danger on a power line, threatening flight at any moment.

"Ah, so this is the Hamato lad that you have been filling me in on for the past weeks!" the man expressed as he neared Yoshi with an extended hand. "I am Roger Diner. I own this marina and the fishing boat you'll be working at with my other boys."

Yoshi stared at his hand for a moment before bowing quickly. "It is an honor to meet you, Diner-sama."

Awkwardly, the man laughed before looking over his shoulder. "I hope you gentleman don't mind but I brought my wife's ward with me. I don't usually talk business with women around but, you know how it is, wife's sick and I am stuck babysitting."

"Not a mind at all, Sir," Saki said stiffly before his eyes glanced over Mr. Diner's bulk to the small form beside him. He froze as he realized that it was a young girl with small, walnut shaped eyes and a gentle, pouting face.

Yoshi was dumbstruck. "Your ward?"

"Ah, yes. This is Teng Shen. My wife was friends with her mother," Diner explained with a simple shrug. "She seemed interested in coming today, didn't you, Doll?"

Her dark eyes turned upon Yoshi and paused. She nodded quietly before gripping to the ends of her puffy, mushroom shaped dress. Respectfully, she gave Yoshi a small bow, her eyes never taking themselves from his face.

He smiled and returned the gentle gesture.

"Alright, enough of that nonsense," Diner stated a bit more shortly. He motioned for the lot to follow him toward the deck of the Mar. "We need to speak business."

Saki smiled, struck by the young girl before following Mr. Diner. "Yes, let us talk business," he expressed in a much chipper mood than earlier. He did not take notice of how neither Yoshi nor Teng Shen had moved from their spots.

Slowly drawing her gaze from him, Teng Shen glanced to her guardian on the boat and then back to Yoshi. Her face hardened before she took off after Saki and Mr. Diner.

Admiring the young girl, Yoshi watched her before slowly making his way up onto the deck. He suddenly felt newer, rejuvenated. Perhaps the dreams he held for this country were not so far off after all.


March 26, 1957

The smell of herbs entered his nose as subtly as the honking of the traffic outside hit his eardrums. His eyes opened immediately and he glanced across the way to the desk in his den. He knew immediately that he had fallen asleep on the leather chair and the aches of his neck and back soon became apparent.

They seemed like such distant thoughts in Saki's mind as he stared at the sharply dressed girl eloquently laying out his morning tea.

"You were having a dream, father," Karai said gently as she finished mixing the herbal remedy. "It has always concerned me when you have dreams that seem to trouble you so deeply. Is there anything you wish to say about them?"

He studied her strong features before slowly moving his hand as if to brush her aside from his vision. "I wish to say nothing, daughter. Only that I want to know the time."

"Exactly six thirty, father," she expressed before finishing the tea ceremony and bowing lowly. "Your tea time."

"Indeed," Saki responded before he stood. He brushed off the wrinkles on his black dress paints and straightened the collar of his shirt. He would merely have to wear them again today. He glanced onto the desk. "Was there any news that I need to be caught up on, daughter?"

"Some men were waiting downstairs earlier," she explained quietly as she remained on the floor on her knees. She remained proper and poised as the tea hostess was mandated to be in Japanese tradition. "I had them wait in the lobby of the building citing that you were in need of rest and wished to not be disturbed."

Saki sat at his seat and stirred his tea again, watching the swirling leafs within. "You did not speak to them face to face I hope, Karai. These are dangerous times and I would be in quite the position if my only daughter was risking her life by answering our every call."

"No, father," Karai stated assuredly. "I answered from this floor and demanded that they remained on the first. I did recognize the voice of the one talking, though."

"Oh?" Saki questioned before he sipped.

"Yes, he is the underboss for Baciloni-sama," Karai explained, her eyes cast upon her father for a reaction. She was not surprised to see nothing outwardly. Instead, she focused upon his internal response, his chi. "The one they call the Weasel."

He stared at her before lowering his cup. "Bring them up to my quarters."

Bowing until her forehead met the floor, Karai obliged. She stood and quietly stepped out, being out of Saki's sights for only a few moments before the sounds of heavy shoes carrying their load up the stairs echoed to Saki's ears.

He sipped from his tea again.

Karai opened the door and politely stepped aside, allowing the scrawny, bright suited Fredo "The Weasel" Carzone entered with his heavy built bodyguard, Alexander Macci, in tow. As usual, the Weasel was overly confident in his position despite there obviously being manners wrong.

Alexander just looked like his brains had slid out of his ears, as usual.

"Gentleman," Saki spoke up as he set aside his tea and shifted a stern eye to Karai. She immediately bowed and quietly closed the doors to the office, disappearing from the sign of business discussion. "Do sit."

"Thank ya, Jappy," The Weasel yipped before falling back into Saki's favorite leather chair.

After a moment, the Weasel looked to his bulky friend and scowled. "Don't stand there like a lump on a log! Sit down! Take a load off! Who ya think's gonna off me while we're here at Saki's pad? His daughter?"

Saki folded his hands into one another and quirked a brow at the suggestion. "Do not underestimate my daughter, Carzone-san. You will be very surprised."

Alexander slowly made his way into the seat and awkwardly, or dumbly rather, stared forward, straight through Saki like he was a window. Weasel was glowering at Saki, his sharp features twitching at the authoritative position that the foreign man held over him.

"What business is there that you felt you must bring it to my home before my family?" Saki questioned. "I trust that it is highly important?"

"Hey, now, you only have a daughter, I don't think that title completely counts as 'family' there, Jappy," The Weasel snapped before crossing his arms. "So don't be tryin' to make me out here as some sort of inconvenience or anything."

"Karai is indeed my family, Carzone-san," Saki said sharply. "And you are never an inconvenience," he added rather smartly. "But you are avoiding my question. What is the business? And I best hope it is not that your men have lost Augustus O'Neil's niece yet again."

There was an awkward silence and Weasel shifted tensely.

With what could only be described as a primitive roar, the boss' fist came down onto the table, crushing the glass of the picture frames that had been lying there. The crushed pieces flung themselves outside of the frames and caused the sitting men to hide their faces both from the glass and from one angry "Big Toni" Baciloni.

"What the hell kind of hired hands are you?" he roared, his slicked back hair falling from its tightly bound state. "You can't even keep a little bitch in the palm of your hands!?"

In the midst of the screaming, Saki quietly made his way in. He nonchalantly slid through the shadows from the entrance door over to the desk of the Don. Taking his place as consigliere, Saki stood stiffly behind Toni's right hand.

"We're sorry Don Baciloni!" the first of the thugs cried out. He rubbed his face in disgrace as he attempted to curl up into himself. "We just left after there were so many others already there, we thought we could leave."

Saki stared, highly unimpressed, and then glanced to Big Toni. He already had a feeling for where this was going.

"Yeah," the other thug of equal, unmemorable bulk spoke up. "We were just as surprised as you when we came back to the warehouse and found everyone—O'Neil's and ours—rubbed out!"

Growling, Toni Baciloni flung himself back into his seat and rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. "'Surprised' he says!" he muttered. "Yeah, I was surprised," he lowered his hands before growing a hideous, angered look. "Surprised that I have such incompetent assholes on my payroll!"

"You don't anymore, Sir," Saki stated collectively, his gaze then set upon the faces of the other men.

Turning in his seat, Toni more directly faced the consigliere and Saki knew immediately to bend over so his boss could whisper in his ear. The angered Sicilian did not waste long before ranting in Saki's ear.

"I don't want to see these pigs again at all, Saki," he fiercely snapped.

"I assumed as much, Sir," Saki replied.

"And I'll need a time to meet with Augustus to try to cool this whole thing over," Toni continued. "Try to keep a war from being declared."

"I already scheduled for you and he to golf this week," the Japanese businessman retorted.

Don Baciloni nodded observantly, recalling why he had hired the man to be his consigliere. He was already ten steps ahead, as usual, and no doubt simply waiting for permission for the next suggestion that Toni was about to make.

"And these airheads?" Toni questioned with a smirk. "I think they deserved to be shredded for their incompetence, Mr. Oroku. Wouldn't you like to agree?"

Slowly, the man nodded lowly and he straightened himself. He looked to the two men who immediately tensed. They knew they were about to see a side of Saki that not many had seen and survived. Saki Oroku, of course, obliged to their acknowledgement.

Before others could even blink, Saki grabbed the fire poker on the side of the fireplace and was upon the two men, the black metal rippling the flesh of their skulls. The men hit the floor in shocked unconsciousness.

"The Shredder" stared over them as he dropped the fire poker. "Big Toni" laughed at the event as he leaned back into his chair. He did not need a hand in the torture to enjoy the soon demise of the faulty strong hands. Saki Oroku, however, did.

He was not done with them yet.

The screams echoed from below the rounded street opening. Saki peered through the hole and into the blinding darkness. While he could only see the bloodied hands, reaching toward the light shining through the manhole, Saki could still imagine the horrible grinding and contorting of their bodies.

They most certainly were being shredded then.

"Close it," Saki ordered the henchmen around him as he remained locked in position.

He remained as the others quickly approached the manhole and covered the lid, ending the echoes. They backed away and looked to Mr. Oroku for more orders though he would not have moved for some time. His gaze was still locked upon the manhole and the terrors that were happening beneath.

Saki was not alone, however.

Above the street, staring quietly from her room's window, Karai faced the horrors below. She might have not been allowed in family business but, as she had since she was a child, she was watching, fully aware of the evil that was happening.

Unlike she had as a child, though, Karai did not turn from the evil. She faced it knowingly, in acceptance.

Stoic, reflective, Augustus O'Neil stared at the window. His hand instinctively ran through his gray speckled red hair and he could almost feel the Sahara heat upon his neck again. The sense of adventure to an almost fantastical level attempted to rush through his blood one more time but failed upon reaching his heart.

His heart was heavy and cold like the pit of his stomach as he looked out his window. While he sweated like on his desert adventures, his mind was much more mournful.

The tired crime lord imagined himself, like so many times before, dressed in a deathly black, walking down the Cathedral aisle. Every pue would be crammed of men and women, some his friends, some observers, but most simply enemies attempted to show a greater grace. He neared the front, the casket, where the priest stood.

The casket opened and revealed yet another loved one.

"April," he whispered to himself, nearly sick over the very thought. He did not so much as turn when the door opened behind him.

"Mr. O'Neil, Sir," a lowly voice questioned near the other side of the room. Whoever this man was, he obviously had not learned much about etiquette in the O'Neil Clan. It was never wise to pester a man when he was mourning severe loss.

"I am not in the mood for entertaining, my apologies," Augustus muttered as he brought the edge of his bottle to his lips yet again. He pursed them, hoping to drink like a fish and drown like a cat. He cursed his Irish blood for keeping him afloat to this point.

"But, Sir," the messenger dared to continue.

"I said I don't want to entertain!" he snapped, shrugging his head to the side though not daring to glance at the man.

"But, Sir!" he retorted again. "There are a few men in the lobby that wish to speak with you. They want to meet with you in private."

Augustus did not even bother to argue, opting to turn more assuredly toward the window and gargle his alcohol over the man's voice. He was sick with sorrow and could not allow even these mysterious men to bring him out.

"Sir, they have your niece."

The crime lord paused, his face draining of color at the very thought. Truly, to see or hear April at this point would be liken to a visit from a phantom. He simply did not believe it would happen. He had waited for so many loved ones to return to him before being devastated with the truth, that he was undeniably left behind by them.

This was a joke too cruel to be false. He turned and stared at the face of the young man.

"What did you say to me, boy?" he questioned lowly.

"It's true, and they wish to speak with you."

Before the boy was finished with the report, Auggie was grabbing his favorite hat and making his way out the door to meet these men who had supposedly had his loved niece. He was irritated, angered and, strangely, hopeful.

If this was a false claim, however, Auggie O'Neil was prepared to kick some ass.


A/N: As usual, I don't think there are too many translations needed for this chapter or even references cleared up but if you have questions do not be shy and ask. I will answer you as quickly as possible!

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