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

In Cold Blood
Chapter Seven: The Widest Eye

Summer 1945

In the sewers, long before Donatello found his first calendar, time did not move in weeks or months but in seconds. Each moment mattered more than the last and through the corridors of a silent sewer the breezes whispered "survival survival survival." It beckoned all to act and react from the coils of the spiders' webs to the defense of the young turtle who found himself knocked aback by his adopted master's strike.

The waters splashed around him coldly and Leonardo found himself staring at the blackness above him. He panted, his muscles tensed in their tiredness. It made him sick to think that all of this fighting was getting him nowhere in the master's eyes.

Splinter stood in the sewers with the wooden sword firmly in his grip. It was a scary sight for the amateur fighter that Leonardo was. He was so inefficient as it was, to not be able to spar was further condemnation.

"Up, Leonardo," Splinter commanded lowly. "Up before I attempt to spar with one of your brothers over you. I will not be so patient with you if you show no effort."

If there was one thing that Leonardo had in his little body it was effort. He found himself grabbing on to the scum surrounding him and lifting himself to face his master. The cold eyes of the rat simply set upon him, questioning him about whether or not he was willing enough to continue.

"Are you prepared, Leonardo?"

Closing his eyes tightly, Leonardo gripped to the hilt of his bokken. He gritted his teeth as he fiercely called out, "HAI!"

By the time the younger turtle had opened his eyes again, the black rat was in front of his face and there was a brown blur slanting across his body. The turtle watched as the world around him began to fuse together and come to a near stop.

Action was taking place so slow Leonardo could have sworn they were the still frames of a picture show and that he and his adopted father were paused, stuck in the wide glare of the projector.

Even as he heard the strike of the wood thud against his chest, raking upward over his plated body, and ending its assault breaking over the tissue of his beak, Leonardo could not even feel what was happening. It was as though he was watching a movie that had swallowed him up.

As his gaze turned upward and he watched the splash of blood and water surround him, Leonardo released a stifled cry. He was defeated yet again but it was not enough. He wanted to go again. He wanted to fight again even as his body shut itself down and took him into violent convulsions, Leonardo waited. He waited for his turn to present what he could do: what only he could do.

…

In the sewers, when Leonardo's body began to fight his mind's control, as he could only watch himself foolishly flail around, time no longer moved in mindless seconds. It lengthened itself out to tortuous eternities where, as he grew older, Leonardo would begin to question how – if he even had – kept his sanity.

For what Splinter, observing from outside the green prison, counted as eleven minutes of pain, Leonardo lived through numerous lifetimes thinking over his position. His patience was his only consolation in those times.

After the profession of his mutated ailment, Leonardo sat shakily on the side of the sewers, breathing and staring as his master and father sat beside him.

Splinter did not speak much as they sat there for he did not know what he should say. It was not a situation that his own lifetime had had to deal with, nor was it a lesson in diligence that his master had taught him. Leonardo was a mystery.

And yet, more than once, he would prove himself to be a necessary asset.

For the rat's plot of revenge to ever play itself out, Leonardo's mind and skills would be needed. He would be needed to perform, and yet the master could not trust Leonardo completely with this task. It was beyond the turtle's abilities.

At least, that was what the rat was thinking when Leonardo turned to him, rubbing the blood from his broken beak.

"Immast de l-leadur," the fiery child announced suddenly. He then rubbed his face as roughly as he could onto his arm before turning his head to the side, spitting a string of mucus and blood onto the ground. "Immast d-de."

Splinter sighed and looked away from the turtle, shaking his head. "Little one, you are no more than eleven. You do not know much yet, let alone about your purpose. You shall be whatever I designate you to be in this clan to avenge our fallen master."

"Dor wong!" he protested loudly through his pain and anger. "Immano immast de leadur. 'N I whill no madder wut."

The rat turned and faced the student carefully, judging his every movement and noise before settling back where he sat. He rubbed the hairs on his chin before nodding, seeing the light of this event. "You must think more than act then, Leonardo, for you are not strong in your body. But no warrior wins with body alone and because of this you will prevail. But you must think more than your enemy."

"Wud Ido?"

The rat turned slightly, looking into the turtles determined little eyes before narrowing his gaze. "You must keep the eye closest to your enemy the widest."

March 27, 1957

He had been well aware that Toni Baciloni and his cronies were acquainted with the strange, the unusual, and the horrifically mutated. Leonardo knew that, while the villains may have found their juxtaposition to Toni's current nemesis bizarre, they would not be overly unwelcoming to the presence of Donatello and Leonardo.

Still, the shadows were where it was safest, where the targets of his learned hatred could not see his settled, angered expression. Leonardo remained in them while Donatello took closer to Auggie's side. He was taking Toni's hand in his own when Leo felt his stomach grow cold.

He stared at Saki Oroku only to find that the Japanese man's eyes were already settled firmly on him.

"You are quite the sight, Auggie," Toni laughed as he clasped a hand on Don's shoulder, nearly causing the supposedly Italian turtle to tumble forward. "I always knew you were jealous of my exotics, but I never thought the sporting type as yourself would hang them on your wall let alone employ them."

Saki was not impressed, his scowl unchanged as he glared into Leonardo's eyes, searching through them for some signs of a soul. It caused the turtle to question, in all the years that the Baciloni gang took care of hazardous wastes, how many of the turtles' likenesses had they seen? How many had they used for their own twisted means? How many times were the senselessly butchered?

In the corner of Leo's eyes, he could see Auggie run his fingers over the rim of his hat and laugh. He was biting back on his cheeks, resisting any outburst over what had happened just the day before.

"Let's say that they have more than earned my trust for the time being," the Irishman replied before cracking his fingers. "Well, enough of this. Leonardo, you want to shake hands?"

"I'd rather not take up your acquaintances' time, Mr. O'Neil," the turtle replied shortly, his eyes still caught on Saki's even as Donatello backed up to be by his side. The younger turtle swallowed at the unspoken tension between them.

Toni gave a laugh. The robust Sicilian grabbed deep into the sides of his gut as he coiled back laughing. It was a most disgusting sight to Leonardo, being more than exposed to the fleshiness of a human from a distance before. He hated how baggy they were and how bulbous even the most accomplished seemed to be.

"That's an animal who knows his place. You've done well, Auggie," he laughed before waving for Saki to move aside, allowing the caddies room to run up to their designated golfers. "I wish I could be same about the business with your niece."

Forcing a smile, Auggie replied simply, "I see April getting along just fine."

No longer needing his sole concentration to be on the stare down with Saki, Leonardo turned and looked to Donatello. The concerned look on his brother only caused his own expression to harden, however, and he tilted his head slightly.

"That's really him?" Don whispered. "Oroku Saki?"

"Yes," Leo responded lowly before glaring back at the team of humans huddled on the green. "We drove hours out to this miserable clubhouse of theirs but we finally get to see him, Brother. We get to see the man we've been waiting to kill for nearly fifteen years."

"You were staring at one another for most of that introduction," Don continued quietly, observing Toni as he waved his arms wildly back and forth, mocking their new boss. "How did he react to us? What do you think he knows?"

Leonardo could no longer suppress his scathing expression as he glared intently at Saki. "I think Saki feels as though he has seen a ghost. Little does he know it was the ghost of our master's dying promise returning to be fulfilled."

"Now?" Don questioned with a horrified expression. "We're not ready. I'm not even sure why O'Neil brought us here – does he regularly golf with his most hated adversaries or did we pick a good week to get in the middle of a street war.

Shaking his head, Leo sighed. "No, not now. You know the plan already. But O'Neil did not bring us here as a barter or a trap if that's where your thinking is leading you, Donatello. He doesn't operate that way. We are here because O'Neil knows how to play the game and he knows that it is best to keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Alright, but that's Auggie's game," Don continued, slowly growing quieter as he looked to the group along with Leonardo. "But I know you, Leo. We've got our own hand in this. What's our game here?"

Leo folded his arms and shook his head. "To watch, Donatello. To watch and to listen."

The turtles set their sights upon the two as they seemed to continue the conversation they had been in earlier.

"I know you're protective of the girls, Auggie, it's only in your nature, after all," Toni piped up as he looked down to the shining head of his putter. "But you're also a bit of an idealist and that can only be seen in what you've been allowing that wryly April of yours to do. Yes, I suppose that it's better than putting her in a nunnery, but you're only putting her in harm's way. It's a shame that some random gang had decided to try to kidnap her like that happened recently, I send my condolensces to the young girl, but what could you expect by sending a girl to college to be a lawyer?"

Leonardo narrowed his eyes. He knew the plight that was being spoken of was not too much unlike his and his brothers' situations all through life. What superficial barriers would this April have to overcome? He doubted she'd ever get to feel success so long as slime like Toni blocked her.

He looked to Auggie who was visibly at the end of his own rope, his jaw shifting steadily as he bit back response after response. Leonardo could imagine the warrior within the old man squealing at the lack of physical retaliation: a retaliation that Toni and all twenty of his armed men were hoping very much for.

"How about we stop and get on with a play?" the Irishman at last responded.

Toni's caddy immediately prepared his golfer's favorite spot.

...

The eighteenth hole seemed like a miracle which never came, not until Donatello could see that last flag. It felt so relieving to be in the home stretch, to be at last releasing himself from all of this tension.

Leonardo and Saki had off and on restarted their staring match and it made Donatello uneasy. He did not want for the Japanese Right Hand to begin to recognize them, as impossible as it might have seemed. He was simply happy that they had not been killed on spot merely for being the mutant messes they were.

After all, any mutagen mess could be traced back to the very business which gave Saki his position as the Right Hand, to become known as the Shredder. He was well aware of what mutants looked like.

But that alone seemed to be a worry Leonardo nor Saki never addressed. Perhaps Donatello had presumed too much? They could never have been that interesting to him, after all.

Saki never even spoke to them, asked them more about their origins. None of Toni's men for that matter. They all seemed to just assume and that made Donatello question all the more whether or not their enemies knew.

That would be dangerous. They could completely lose the element of surprise.

Other than Auggie or the occassional body guard of the O'Neil's, no one but one man spoke to the turtles directly. It was not a very pleasurable discussion either. Still, it amused Don to think back to it.

He could still see Weasel, that snakey accomplice of the Baciloni empire, slither over to them, his bald head shining and his yellow teeth clearly visible past his thin lips. Weasel was a most unlikable character before he could ever say the first word.

"Mutant lizards? Who'd a guessed," he started off with before laughing. "Most mutants are pretty dunce. We slice those up, though. Slice 'em and dice 'em. Shred 'em even. Keeps most people from knowing about them. I don't think most of the O'Neil people even know that they're real. They probably don't even think that there's anything livin' in the sewers."

Don and Leo had merely stood in complete silence, allowing him to have his shots at them. He was not about to get an arousal, of that they were sure.

"Looks like they dressed you up all nice," he continued before flicking the rim of Don's hat, knocking it off of his head. "I don't know why. You two are obviously all build and no brains."

Leonardo narrowed his eyes and grabbed the man's hand as it reached for his hat. Don could not help but grin as Weasel's face quickly became one of horror. "The beast is not a creature to be trifled with, and the lowly reptile was around eating rodents for a long time before you came along, Weasel."

The man was shaken. He could not form a question or a reaction. He merely took back his hand and shook his head. Leo folded his arms again and then Weasel laughed with relief.

"That made no sense," he chuckled. "What's this look like? Shakespeare?"

Snorting, Weasel walked away. "Can't believe this guy!"

Leonardo looked to Donatelloand frowned. "I vote for him to be next on our list."

It caused a smile to come to Donatello's face as he thought over the series of events again. He liked those sorts of memories. He had a feeling that soon enough they would be quite scarce. Right then, though, he smiled. He could afford to.

Auggie putted and missed purposefully, throwing the game to the boss with more gun power.

...

She had done this since she was a young girl and, despite her better sense, quite enjoyed every chance she got to do the chore. Karai knew that it was as her adopted father intended for her to feel, hence why she began to service the feeding frenzy at the ripe age of seven.

Her heels tapped along the pavement of the alley which no man or woman would ever dare to go down, and the ribbons of her new dress fluttered around her. She was dressed in red; in the new red dress that her father's large income afforded her.

It was very much in style and she appreciated it much like any other girl would have if they received such a gift.

Most girls, however, would not break in the dress like Karai was about to. They would wear it to a party or some other formal occasion, breaking it in while receiving as many compliments on their style and shiekness before the value wore out.

Karai broke in her dress by carrying a slab of newly butchered meat through the dark alleyway near her apartment. She felt her body mold the strict fabric, working its form into it as she neared the manhole and tapped her right heel on it twice.

A smile came upon her veiled face as, from below, the sewer entrance was opened and she was met by a pair of yellow eyes.

Lowering herself to a near squat, allowing her dress to rub itself into the grime of the city, Karai held the thick slab out and tilted her head to the side.

"Peace offerings?" a voice croaked.

"Offerings of gratitude," she responded gently as the slab was easily lifted out of her arms by the creature. She stood back up. "I will leave if you don't want company. I know how you prefer to not get messy in front of a lady, and how you prefer to not eat unless you can get incredibly messy."

"You seem to know a lot," the voice retorted. "You should know that I'd love your company. I always do, if you're not too busy, Miss Karai."

Smiling, the woman lowered herself onto her knees and sat back on her expensive heels, dirtying her once stylish dress. She folded her hands on her lap and watched the beast dive into his cuisine. Yes, it was just as exciting as it was the first day she had watched him do it.

"For you I am never too busy, LeatherHead," she at last responded.

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