Mauryn: Thanks for the encouragement! It's comments like yours that keep me writing!

Guest: I know! I'm really sorry! I'll try harder.

Sorry I took so long. Thanks for the excitement and reviews! I am loving your guys' comments and ideas! Please keep it up. I am more willing to update faster if I feel like people want it. Please Read, Review, and Enjoy!

The black banded turtle enforced his patrols harshly, trying to get rid of his memories. They haunted his every waking moment, and lately he had been reliving them as nightmares. No Purple Dragon, Foot Ninja, street gang, or small time criminal was safe from his fiery vengeance. When the city was quiet, he would brood on a rooftop or go for a midnight run across the town.

One time he was thinking about his brothers, reliving each terrible day in his head, when he heard a scuffle several blocks to his right. He immediately flew across the rooftops, trying to get in on the action. He paused, looking down at the fight. One man, skinny, shaggy brown hair, three days or so stubble on his chin, and dark street clothes, stood against forty assailants, some from the local gang, a couple of Purple Dragons, and a ton of off-duty foot ninja. The vigilante stood, awestruck. The newcomer wielded a length of pipe as if it were part of him!

The black turtle leaped down, straight into the fray, taking out several assailants with well-placed kicks. The lone fighter gaped at the mutant turtle as the huge group of fighters backed up a bit, none of them wanted to end up like his other victims.

The man looked like he was about to faint; probably caused by the wounds and bruises all over his body. The vigilante turtle took on the incoming horde and fought back to back with the hesitant fighter. Between the two of them, they soon cleared out their attackers.

The turtle turned to the man, who looked as if he had seen a ghost. "Hello." The vigilante said, trying to break the awkward silence between the two. The man only nodded. "Not much of a talker?" The man shook his head, regaining some of his composure. "Who are you?" The turtle asked.

The man hesitated. He opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed before he could get a word out. The turtle quickly caught him and checked his pulse and breathing. He was okay there; maybe it was just the shock of seeing a creature that didn't exist.

The vigilante carried the stranger to his lair, laying him on the couch. The scrawny fighter didn't look like much, but he had the heart of a warrior. Something was bugging the turtle though, something about the way that the human fought. What was it? A memory tried to push itself to the surface, but stopped just out of reach. He growled in frustration.

What was he going to do with the human? His thoughts were interrupted as his stomach growled and flashed pain across his abdomen. When was the last time he had eaten? Yesterday? The day before? All the days passed in a blur now. He turned to go to the kitchen, hearing the breathing of the human change, signaling that he was waking. The turtle hadn't taken more than five steps before the human spoke, causing him to stop.

"How did I get back to the lair?" The vigilante slowly turned, his heart was thumping a million miles an hour and his mouth was dry.

The human was sitting up on the couch, looking around in confusion. Their eyes locked and the turtle's knees went weak.

"Raph?"

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