The Bigger Picture

The loss was not an acceptable one. They had lost one of their own, to an uneducated, mortal human no less. Gathered together the remaining four heralds studied the orb that hung before them. Their plans had not included any loss on their part. It had consisted of the removal of the remaining acolytes and the unhindered resurrection of their Master – the original Oroku Saki, a demon that would bring Jigoku(o) to the world around them. A world shaped in the image of Feudal Japan complete with the ancient hierarchy and the most powerful of demons. It would be a place where they would be verging on omnipotence. The tribunal had considered them selves ready to defeat their Master centuries ago, but had fallen to them his loyal servants days earlier. It had been entertaining to see them struggle before their superior might only for them to be left with four acolytes that were proving difficult to kill. Considering these facts was what brought a sour expression to Water's face whilst they dwelt upon matters at hand.

Laying behind them were the tools needed to raise their Lord; his sarcophagus, gauntlet and helmet. All that was needed now was a place to do the deed uninterrupted.

"She has them, doesn't she?" Metal hissed, his eyes watching the girl walk confidently from the turtle's presence.

"It would appear to be that way Brethren." Fire responded with a similar degree of disgust. "The greater issue would be how her Father came across them. Should she give them to the acolytes we will be at a great disadvantage."

"That much is true." Water responded calmly, "But if it is one thing we have learnt, it is to give no quarter to these acolytes or to that human girl."

It was rare for Wind to talk, so to hear words from his parched lips signaled their importance. "Whilst they remain separate we can continue unheeded."

"Which means we cannot allow them the opportunity to bond over a mutual threat." Water's head turned towards the three parts of their Master. "Or for any other unexpected twists of fate that may manifest or wish to interfere."

x-x-x

"Go!" Clambering down from the remains of Earth, the Ancient One looked at Donatello with a look of pure confusion upon his face. Did the boy not understand his words? "Shoo!" His brow furrowed, "Follow her." Hanging onto the vowels he swept his hand towards the deserted path.

"I do not want my Son to befall any traps."

"He-will-not."

"Ya don't know the crazy lady like we do. She wasn't around when they were dishin' out the sugar an' spice." Raph pointed out dryly picking dried bits of dirt off his scales. "Hell I don't think she even joined the queue."

"It-will-be-fine!"

"Leo?" Don chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. Out of all gathered it was him who knew her best. He was also the last one to have spent any meaningful time in her presence. Whatever his reticent brother struck upon he'd follow through with.

Leonardo studied his second Sensei. For the most part the man's findings had been proven reasonable if not always immediately logical for the sound of mind. "Go." A long sigh escaped from barely parted lips. He had no reason to doubt the Ancient One's judgment as skewered as it was.

"Alright then." Ignoring Mike's drawn brow Donatello began to trace Karai's footsteps.

x-x-x

The shorter of the two swords was laid out on the bench Karai had lowered herself onto. It seemed that Fate wanted to play a delightful game. Having stalked from her fellow survivors with her head high and her jaw set Karai had crumpled once she assumed her self to be at a safe distance. Beneath her clothes her torso was littered with injuries from the crash, all of which protested and demanded cursory treatment. Out of their sight the woman had eased her form onto the nearest park bench, expecting the clan to make the most of their freedom and retreat into cover. The one outcome she did not expect was to have a companion discover her 100 metres up the path. Donatello's appearance, as wary as it was brought nothing but a cursory jerk of her eyebrow. Turning her head from him she gestured towards the shorter of the blades,

"There."

Gesture made her hand returned to resting upon the top of her bag, protectively draped over the contents, whilst the other rummaged within its depths. "It's what you've come for is it not?" her eyes did not leave the opening in her bag. "I don't have the time to chase after you and your family's thieving hands." The hand that was lost in the bag emerged to wave at the weapon. Blood was dotted over her finger tips which was difficult to ignore. "So I will save us both some time."

Don studied Karai. She looked beat. Tired, worn down even. But not vulnerable, there was something about the hardness in her jaw and poise that told him that. His eyes traced over her before resting on the damp dark patch at her side. After a short pause Don stepped closer, bending at his knees to study the suspect area. Hesitating Karai answered his unspoken question, peeling her top up she revealed the frayed edges of the flesh deep tear in her side.

"You're injured."

"I am." Karai turned a pain ridden face to Don, and shared a bitter half smile. "I barely fought and my stitches were pulled."

"Stitches?"

"That is what I said."

"You have thread?"

Karai produced the tools and held them out.

Don let out a reluctant sigh. Karai was not someone he would normally spend the time on, but she had demonstrated some level of control over the Heralds, and though it did not erase the past it did earn her this favor. A fighter, even if it was someone like Karai, was an asset they richly needed. "How did you do this?" The wound that was presented to him stretched up the side of her torso, and though blood leaked through the gaps it was obvious that this was not the first time that Karai had corrected the injury. She must have attempted a patch on the wound using a mirror at some juncture. "Turn around, arm up and across the body."

Karai complied, her arm tentatively stretched out. "The mystics …"

"They've ascended Karai, they're 'heralds' now."

A soft snort of derision, "They were not the last time I saw them." Karai's eyes narrowed and her head turned so that she presented a perfect profile to Donatello's crouched form. "Here's a thought, where were you when your brothers came into my home?"

"I was detained elsewhere." Don responded calmly, "Any alcohol?"

"In the bag."

"Now it's your turn to answer my question, how did you get this?"

Karai was almost free of the vehicle, her lower body was still within the cab of the truck but her upper torso was free. Twisting her forearms, the forward momentum she had achieved was suddenly improved by the searing ball of heat that came from within the fuel tank. Thrown into the air by the blast she crashed first into the concrete barrier at the side of the freeway before rolling down onto the ground at the side of the inferno. Impact rendered her unconscious. Beneath her civilian clothes the Kevlar saved her from severe burns whist drivers from other vehicles saved her from the fumes. Pulled away from the burning skeletal remains an ambulance took her to hospital.

"That is not your concern."

Don pulled the small brown bottle out and soaked the pad of a bandage he had pulled apart. All over Karai's body were numerous blunt trauma bruises of varying shade and size. It looked like she had been caught in some sort of explosion. Littered amongst the bruises were burn and scald marks also in varying stages of healing. One would suspect that the brunt of any heat that had come into contact with her being had ate through material before being extinguished. By far, the worst of her scars would be on her neck when the burn that was present fully healed.

The needle pierced Karai's skin expertly in a smooth rhythmic pattern that rebound the edges of the fine tear in her skin. Though paying attention to her words, Don found nothing in them that truly answered his questions.

"You're attitude is a little different Karai." He mused aloud leaning back on his haunches to study his meatball surgery Giving it no thought he reached across to her bag and delved into it in search of bandages to complete the job. Wrapping his fingers around stained, loose pages he pulled them free and placed them upon the ground. Turning on the ball of his foot he used his weight to hold them in place, paying no attention to what it was that covered them.

"Put those back!" Karai's eyes strained to see where Donatello placed the journal pages her Father had left for her.

Amused, Don looked up from his search for medical supplies, "Why?"

"That is not your concern! Stop asking stupid questions and put them back, now."

"It's in my nature to be curious Karai." Don pointed out, his words accompanied by an unintentional burst of laughter.

"They are a gift from my Father! Return them to their place." She snapped, a pink tint rising to her cheeks.

He should have known better, the interaction though based purely upon a business like trade of services had been almost tolerable, yet he knew he would attempt to skim some of the pages that he had pulled from Karai's bag the moment the opportunity arose. Taking out a roll of bandage, Don raised his hands in defeat.

"Let me patch this, then I'll leave you be." Again his weight moved slightly so that he could skim the pages. The top one was written in neatly printed kanji that started at the base and worked backwards. Interwoven with Japanese that meant little to Donny were diagrams and neatly copied pictures. The most pertinent being a neatly drawn circle, complete with symbols that looked like a bastardized dialect that even Don couldn't identify on the crudest of levels.

"You are loitering." Karai's observation sliced through his own impromptu spying.

Karai's hand had gained some scrapes from her encounter with Earth, but it didn't stop her from stretching out to drag the sword she had left on display to her side, raising the blade and using its dulled reflective surface to spy on the spy. Fury rippled across her face, causing Karai to pull away sharply and spin on her rear. Reaching over, she hurriedly tied the ends of the bandage Don had started to apply before snatching up the pages and her bag from the turtle.

"You know Karai, if you have some sort of information that may help end this, it would be best to share it. You still haven't made it clear how you know so much about the Tribunal, or how you found us."

Sliding the pages back into her bag Karai pulled it close to her person before responding calmly, "My Father thought it best I be prepared should certain events ever take place." It was all she would offer on the subject, and after a tense moment of silence from her audience she continued tersely, "I have offered you the means with which to defend yourself from those creatures. But what is written on those pages is from my Father and meant for my eyes only. The things he has written upon those pages are only going to prolong my life should those things attempt to slay or hunt me again. If you do not want what I have to offer then you may go."

Don stared at the sword that she held loosely in her hand, "The sword is of no use to us Karai. We need the gauntlet to use it." Science and sorcery those were the precise words that Master Splinter had used to describe the Sword of Tengu. He didn't understand it, but for whatever reason the blade appeared to have chosen Karai over his brother or even his father. Pressing his lips into a thin line, Don took his leave from her, the soft glow of his chi shining on long after he had disappeared.

x-x-x

(o)- 'earth prison', Japanese term for Hell.