I have a waning confidence in my abilities to pull this story off completely. At the same time, though, I to see this written out more than I want to see any of my other "in progress" stories. It's very confusing. Hopefully you all understand.
TMNT, Leonardo, Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, Splinter, and the Foot © Mirage Studios
story © Turtlefreak121
In Cold Blood
Chapter Four: Offers of a New Life
June 8, 1942
The plunge overwhelmed every sense he contained.
Beneath, above, to the side, all directions merged into one unconceivable prison and he determined that he lacked the ability to upturn himself. That moment was frozen, was painful, and was beyond description for the creature.
His breath drew up within him, strangling him from the inside.
Ever so faintly he could recall images from moments before, perhaps hours before, he no longer could tell. He remembered biting the hand that inevitably tossed him. He recalled the fat, loud man standing by the familiar and traitorous tosser. He remembered the glow of the liquid about him.
Then he remembered that it was a lake of unnatural chemicals that he was stuck within. He recalled how he could once move his legs and arms and break out of the womb of his tomb.
The rat, which had once been a friend and companion, burst through the surface, born anew.
It was then that he faintly recalled his old master's stories and how sometimes the death of one life is merely the beginning of a new. He then remembered how a new life can be a chance to right how one was wronged in the previous life.
He looked about, his lid tired and seeking closure. The energy it took to break into his new life had exhausted the former rat, broken in his new form already.
Glancing about, the rat saw that he was within a pool of the foul smelling, fouler looking ooze and heard others splashing around it as well. Strangely, though, what had once felt like an inescapable ocean of the liquids suddenly did not even come up to his knees.
His vision was caught up by a sign not hanging far away. It loomed over the embankment with strange letters, only a few of which he remembered.
M A N _ A T T _ N _ R O J _ _ T
Within his mind, he held on to the information, banking upon its importance at a later date yet he already could foresee that it was not the most important aspect of that day.
The splashing weakened and the former rat, partial man glanced about before his blurred vision adjusted and brought his attention toward the swimming three. They were somewhat further into the water, only their shells protruding from the water.
He knew these creatures, had lived with these creatures.
These kame had been his fellow pets to their master and, in his memory, the rat gathered the three up. He grasped onto the smallest one first, surprised at how much it had seemingly grown. He had always been the tiniest but now he seemed as large as the rocks on the shore.
His appearance was also altered, stranger.
The second was even larger than he, and his beak had seemingly grown wider, stretching across his face and creating a most unusual face, not truly turtle or man. The rat-man placed him upon the shore as well, watching as the first crawled on his hard plated stomach.
The third was enormous, inhibiting the rat's ability to pick him up.
The shell of the third turtle was nearly as wide as the rat's body and was resistant to his coaxing toward the shore. Something about the birthing from the water appealed to the largest turtle to the point that he was unwilling to come closer to capture and removal from it.
At last, however, the rat stood in front and shoved with all his might, turning the turtle over and scooting it toward the dry shore, onto the dying reeds with the other turtles. It struggled with its shockingly human like legs, its stub toes curling against his foot.
He looked over the turtles and quietly took in the image. The rat was no longer so sure that these had been the turtles he shared a home with.
Slowly, however, he recalled that there had not been a simple three turtles in his master's home but had been a fourth kame he had known. There was no more splashing, though, and this caused the rat's heart to race.
These four turtles were all he had left.
Glancing about, eyes darting from one side of the pool to the other, the rat man at first did not see a fourth turtle anywhere. Then, glancing toward the pipe from which the glowing ooze seeped from, he saw the turtle.
On his shell, the turtle had no doubt remained just as he had landed when he was tossed. He was the most changed of the group, already appearing more child than reptile. His face was amidst a sickening vapor, not completely shadowing the fleshy disheveling.
The rat quickly rushed to his side and lifted him from the perilous situation only to come to a horrifying discovery.
Dragging the indescribable creature onto the bank with the others, the reborn rat man laid the turtle out in the middle of the others. The largest turtle had already turned himself over somehow and was only neglecting his escape back into the waters due to the curiosity he had about this fourth turtle, his brother.
They all gathered and watched in wonder as the childlike creature's body began to contort itself unwillingly. Stiffly, the turtle began to convulse without explanation. Their body shook about fiercely.
Unknowingly, the other mutations watched their fellow mutant and brother experience the first of his seizures.
March 26, 1957
Forward he stared, his face fixated on doorframe that seemed to only grow further and further away. The darkness that had always been so kind to him, in hiding his disformities and shielding him from the glaring surface world, was now swirling about him, causing everything to disappear.
He felt the cold sweat form on his brow and his stomach lurched forward with an uncomfortable pang. He wished he had not gotten so excited when he yelled earlier.
Excitement always triggered these.
"You didn't have to yell at him like that, Leo," Michelangelo complained as he looked through the crack of the door. "I mean, we could've sent him off before seeing us without scaring the pants off of him. I think he might of wet himself." At that he released a deep laugh. A gangster whizzing himself at the simple outburst of "ghosts", parish the thought.
"It's damn dark in here," Raphael growled as he tugged at his sleeves. They were much too tight for his build but, true to form, he ignored the mild discomfort. "Seriously, let's get a light on. I kinda wanna check out the doll on the couch again. I ain't never seen a woman so close."
He made a move for the light switch, and Leo shook his head. It was in disharmony with the convulsions of his hands. "D-Don't turn them on!" he hissed as his vision milked over. "D-don't…"
Raph obeyed but it cost the leader the secrecy of his condition. The others all stared at him in mournful expectation for another attack. He hated those concerned looks. They killed him on the inside.
"D-don't look… D-don't look at me like that!" he bit back at them. He lowered into his seat and swallowed dryly. He needed to take a moment to collect himself, to break down these nerves. The meditations their master taught them surfaced in his mind.
Donatello frowned. Of the three others, Don knew the most about the situation. It was part of his duties.
"You need to calm down," he coaxed his brother gently, coming to his side.
Mike looked about. Of the three others, Michael knew the least of the situation. It was part of his maintained ignorance.
"Is it that thing?" he asked Raphael silently, watching as their leader fidgeted in his chair, the corners of his mouth flicking up and down, up and down, up and down. Michelangelo blinked curiously at Raphael. "You know? When he's sick? Is it happening again?"
Raphael, as he was in most things, knew as much as he needed to. He stared at his younger brother and gently pushed against his shell, pressing him in the direction of the couch and their rescued damsel.
"Check out the babe over there, make sure she's not dead or anything," he ordered, moving his body so as to obstruct the younger turtle's vision of the eldest's struggling. "That'd kinda ruin the deal, okay?"
"You're sick, Leon," Don sighed as he lowered down onto his haunches and felt Leo's brow. "Try breathing in deeper. Slower."
"Don't order me!" Leonardo spat back after a swallow. He grinned confidently at the outburst. The lack of stuttering was usually a sign of recovery in his condition. The increased irritation and lack of emotional restraint, however, usually depicted the opposite.
Raphael watched with pride as his younger brother at last heeded his advice and made his way toward the couch. Then he turned to Don shaking his head at Leonardo's shaking frame. He shook his head. "Pop a cigarette, Leo, help ya with it some. Always does."
It was true and Leonardo immediately fumbled in his pocket, producing his final pack. He swallowed dryly and, after moments of struggling, stuck the first cigarette he could find into his mouth and leaned back. Just feeling the paper against his lips relieved him. He reached for the lighter but his brothers knew better than to trust his convulsing fingertips.
Donatello grabbed the lighter and lit the cigarette for his close and stubborn patient, he sighed dully. "You know, they say those things can kill you."
"Yeah, I really give a flying shit, too," Leonardo muttered, before grabbing the armrests of the chair and closing his eyes. The convulsing would have to stop eventually. He hoped only to wait it out and not go unconscious in the meanwhile.
He just asked himself, why now? This was far too important for him to be anything but on top of his game.
The brothers watched him sadly. All but Mikey that was.
The youngest turtle leaned forward and looked at the pale red-head's face. He grinned widely at her. He did not know what it was about her, but Mike liked her. They had not technically even met but the mutant felt that there was something about her, something special.
Perhaps it was because she was the first girl he had met, he did not know. He just wished that she would wake up again.
Then she stirred.
He froze and straightened, staring at her wide-eyed. He had never thought that he would have regretted a wish so much in his life but he was suddenly certain that this was not going to be good. Michelangelo worried he might have liked the girl while she was asleep more than he had while she was awake.
Her eyes fluttered open and April was glad that everything had been a simple dream, a nightmare. She could not have been thankful enough that the event was all over.
It was easily the scariest single event of her life and she wanted nothing more than to look about the room and convince herself that her internment, the destruction of everyone she had known from her uncle's empire, and the salvation at the hands of the green skinned freaks was false.
She looked about and saw Michael.
He grinned. "I'm guessing you don't speak Italian judging by last time," he laughed before turning his green, domed head to the side. "So I'll just say 'hi' instead."
She blinked before screaming, causing Mike to scream, causing her to faint, causing Leonardo's head to feel as though it were bursting open from within. He could have killed her right then had he had a gun on him.
Donatello had had the foresight to remove such property from him moments before.
Instead, Leonardo leaned his head against the seat and began to slowly sink into it, a look of a man half drunk to death in his somber eyes. He felt weak and unacceptable but none of that embarrassed his body enough to obey the simplest of commands.
"You alright?" Don asked gently.
He did not answer and Donatello could only assume the worse.
"Mikey!" Raph snapped angrily as he came over to the youngest. "I warned you about scarin' her again. Last time we were lucky ya didn't give her a freakin' heart attack! Then again, judging by your ugly face, I'd say we're lucky the rest of us haven't had a stroke yet."
Don flinched at the mention of stroke as he gently patted Leonardo's cheeks, receiving just enough of a reply to calm him. He could risk taking the time to collect himself if Leonardo was having only a small spell.
"Mamma Mia!" Michelangelo called out in his perfected Italian accent as he gestured to the sky in grand exaggerated motions. "Help this girl and her fainting! Lordie be! I wish nothing more to make her as happy as I had my dear mamma!"
Raphael could not help but snort and shake his head at his brother. "Jerk," he breathed as he sent Michelangelo a cool glare.
"Stop it, you two," Donatello warned as he straightened up and gently pulled Leonardo's chair closer to the shadows. "Raph, come to Leo's side. Mike, stand by me. We don't have much time to pull this together."
"What about, Leo?" Mike asked worriedly, glancing back toward his hidden brother.
"He's fine, Mike," Raph assured him before sighing, glancing at Leo's dull expression. "We'll worry about him in a moment. We don't have time."
And they did not.
By the time that Michelangelo had found his way to Donatello's side, the doors burst open and revealed a shocked and angered Irish man. He was not exactly what the two younger turtles had been expecting for all this time.
In their minds, like the bosses of the other families throughout New York, Augustus O'Neil should have been at average height with slicked back, greasy hair, a silk suit neatly brushed out, and a round, content form of body.
Auggie O'Neil, The Ireland Flare, Big Red, could not have been anything further from the image.
The once green eyes that rested on the skin, tanned with wear and tear, surrounded by tangled, wild red and silver hair danced around in a new, smokey hue. He was a tall man, much taller than even Raphael and he seemed as though he could punch through their shells with a single blow. His body was riddled with muscles that seemed hardly contained by his worn and washed out clothes.
He was truly a wild man and they were the ones holding his unconscious niece.
Michael swallowed and instinctively looked to Leonardo's form for guidance. He, along with the other two who had done the same, was not comforted much by the lack of stimulus their brother was having.
Raphael reached into his pocket and produced a canteen that he always had on him. Mike watched quietly as he shook the canister and began to mix it with another canteen he had produced from his other pocket.
A small man, most likely a runner or porter, came in behind the crime lord. He hesitated, as unsure as the turtles about whether or not his boss would be diplomatic or simply shoot them.
"Maxi?" Auggie's harsh but not emotionless voice boomed. The younger gentleman stepped up. "Call up Doctor Stockman. Tell him to come down immediately so he can check out April."
"Yessir." And the man was gone.
Quietly, Auggie neared the sweet angel drawn out across the couch like a fair China doll. He bent over, his build still massive and intimidating to the four turtles but turned from them, and began to stroke her pale cheek.
"My little April," he whispered to her.
Raphael took the time to kneel beside Leonardo and press the newly mixed beverage against his lips, allowing Leonardo to drink it up. He frowned, his golden eyes leering toward O'Neil from time to time, wary of the presence at this most inopportune time.
"Drink up, brother," he muttered to Leonardo.
The turtle did but leaned weakly back again. He was going to take a few minutes longer to recover from the shock. Raphael licked his fingers and pinched off the end of his cigarette before taking it from him and straightening, returning his own intimidating presence to the situation.
Slowly, Augustus rose up from his knees, making Michelangelo flinch. The tension was too much for the turtle who was simply too new to all of these formalities.
"April is one of the few joys I have left to pride in this world," the tired mob boss confessed before turning toward the brothers. "For her safe return I cannot thank you boys enough. You have Augustus O'Neil in your debts." Bingo, thought Leonardo, awakening from his stupor. "I'm just not sure whether you know what a great accomplishment that is."
There was a moment's pause where the brothers instinctively awaited Leonardo's reply. His silence reminded them that Plan B had been enacted.
Donatello nodded, tipping his hat formally to the elder statesman. He smirked as he caught himself from performing a proper traditional Japanese bow. If he had not, Leonardo would have made him regret the blown cover later.
"We are quite aware of the honor that is," Don explained genuinely. "My brothers and I have been very aware of the fractions and their workings, Signore O'Neil."
Mike fidgeted, uncomfortable with the situation and looked about. He had missed many of the opportunities to join his brothers and the warm up activities for this very day due to the fact that he was too young, too unprepared. Raphael had warned him that sometimes it was Don's job to take up Leo's when Leonardo could not.
He just did not realize how different the two were until that moment.
Leonardo was formal, smooth, charismatic, but one would soak in any word that slid off his silver tongue. His confidence in what had to be done had always translated to those around him as what they should be doing.
Donatello's flattery was purposeful and believable. It was also genuine and flat. There was not an obvious mystery in his speech.
Augustus O'Neil did not move for a moment, allowing his powerful presence to work on the boys instead. He was quite accustomed to the intimidation of his physique and foreign demeanor taking others by surprise. It appeared to work on the two younger brothers. The one who spoke, however, did not seem caught off guard at all.
Rather, this lean one seemed to be very expectant of everything O'Neil had to throw at him.
"My men who were sent to rescue my niece," he said slowly, staring directly at the speaking body, "including my dear friend and cohort—"
"Ivan Dobin," the knowledgeable brother offered correctly.
"Yes, Ivan," Augustus stammered. He waited a moment and smirked. He liked these boys styles, they knew who they were dealing with and had a similar plan. They were attempting to catch him off guard. "I sent them to rescue my niece, it's happened before, rather shamefully messy business. This time was different, though."
They remained silent although Auggie had paused for them to intervene. He was happy to see they were respectful.
Leonardo rubbed his face, clearing his vision yet again. He was glad that he was feeling alive again.
"I've had many men killed by Don Baciloni's troops in these types of skirmishes but never have I had all of my men killed," the crime lord explained. He tilted his head. "Toni's not that good, despite how amazing his counselor is."
Raphael and Michelangelo watched as their eldest brother was seemingly rejuvenated. They stared at the icy eyes he gave Donatello before straightening up in his seat, clawing his way back into his body, back into control.
"If you are insinuating any fault of my brothers and me," Donatello replied quickly, "then allow me on our behalves to apologize. There was absolutely no harm intended on your business or family. In quite the opposite respect, our only concern was in insuring that your family remained unharmed by the events."
With this explanation, Donatello's hand gestured instinctively toward the sleeping April.
Leo straightened himself further, eyes darting about the room for more of a grasp on the situation. The lights were still off, all was hidden. Don was in command. Mike was looking at him, though he knew better. Raphael was holding Leo's pack of cigarettes, damn him. Augustus O'Neil was before them.
The plan had not been ruined yet.
"I suppose if you were at any fault it cannot truly be blamed on anything but ignorance," O'Neil admitted as sighed with relief. He rubbed the top of his gray speckled red head and laughed. "Simply remind me that I should never cross you."
Leonardo leaned forward in his seat, drawing himself back into the conversation. "It's a good thing to keep in mind."
Don immediately eased back to his brother's side. He was happy to see this fit had been so small in comparison.
Augustus grew a more serious disposition at the sound of Leonardo's voice. It was a curse of Leo's façade, the friendliest company could easily be lost this way. The burly businessman did not back down, though. In contrast, he leaned back and observed the shadowy figures more directly.
"I am sorry to be arranging our first meeting out of order," he said slowly, his face drawn out as he tipped his head to the side. "But I think we should properly introduce ourselves. You know me, Augustus O'Neil, but you've earned credit enough to know me by Auggie. I don't believe, though, I have heard heads or tales of any of you." He squinted. "Nor have I seen you for that matter… I hear you don't like the lights."
"An accurate statement," Leonardo breathed as he stood up. "We will introduce ourselves to you formally first, then you can turn on the lights so long as your are aware that we are unlike anything you have seen."
The leader swallowed dryly again, leaning on the desk for support. His quivering knees gave him no support. "I am Leonardo," he stated before waving to his right. "These are my brothers: Donatello," he tipped his hat, Leo's hand moved to the left, "Raphael, and Michelangelo."
Auggie nodded stiffly. "Italian," he muttered.
"But not Sicilian," Donatello explained earnestly, separating he and his brothers from the enemies. He smirked. Oh, how their sensei had been so smart, with such foresight. There was no distinction of their Japanese lineage other than Leonardo's strangely accentless tone.
Big Red made a move for the light switch.
"I should warn you again," Leonardo spoke up, more solemnly than the first. "What you will see will not be anything you have mentally prepared yourself for."
He stared at them yet again before smirking. His world travels had taught him to expect the unexpected. "Try me," he scoffed slightly before flipping the switch and chasing the shadows back from whence they came.
The four brothers stared.
Auggie stared back.
His world travels most certainly had not prepared him for this. "Great Scott!" he gasped as he looked at them. "You're green!"
"We're turtles," Raphael smirked smugly.
Leonardo smiled tiredly. "Perhaps I should have been more descriptive when I explained our names. We are the Tartaruga Brothers. We are, in fact, astute and intelligent turtles with a twisted back story that is very much involved with the service to this great nation in the War."
Auggie took the bait; hook, line, and sinker.
"The War?" he questioned with a sudden quick and rather undeserved respect.
"Yes, but it is for another time," Leonardo expressed nonchalantly. "My brothers and I are currently without a residence and we would like to take our revenge on a certain Toni Baciloni for that very reason. We were glad to be of service to you and hope to do so again sometime."
Leonardo nodded to his brothers to leave and they began to file to the side.
"Our lives and our secret is now in your hands, Signore," Leonardo expressed before willing his leg to move forward.
"Wait a moment!" Augustus expressed before rushing before them, shocked and reeling still. He laughed at himself for being so utterly shocked beyond response at their appearances. "You have Augustus O'Neil in your debts. You may not know what that means but it's a lot to me and I will be sure to repay you."
Leonardo smirked within himself. "We could use a job."
A/N: I apologize. This chapter took me longer than I first thought.
Please Review!