CHAPTER EIGHT

XVII

The den has two bathrooms. Small mercies.

Amber barricaded herself in the smaller of the two, the downstairs one, that had nothin' but a toilet and sink in it.

Didn't seem to matter where in the den you went, the sound of her retchin' and pukin' seemed to reach every corner. For once I was glad of Mikey's trashy pop rock blasting away at top volume whenever he hit the ramp. I moved between my room, where I could play my own music full bolt, the kitchen and the televisions. I did not go near the bathroom.

Donnie kept leavin' big jugs of water outside the door. "She needs to stay hydrated." He explained, and after doin' what he does best and trawlin' the web, put through a special order to April.

I was over by the tubes, watching the Transformers download – without Mikey this time - when she delivered the packets of valium with a concerned expression, asking Don if there was anythin' he wanted to tell her.

I could feel him glancin' at me as he explained it had to do with a project he was workin' on. I knew he hated lying to her, but somehow, we'd come to a silent agreement not to say anything to anyone about the withdrawin' junkie in our downstairs bathroom. Not until we'd got this thing sorted out.

I was leavin' all that up to Leo and Don.

I was too pissed off at Amber to want to get involved anymore. At least, in her side of things.

That first night she'd been here, I'd vented my frustrations with her and the whole stinkin' situation well into the night. Vaguely, distantly, one by one I heard my brothers and father go to bed. I kept on, pumpin' weights, moving through kata, strength-training, weapons practice. It wasn't long after I heard Donnie flick off his monitors for the night that the dojo door slid softly open, letting in a rush of cool air like a whisper against my cheek.

I hadn't turned around. I didn't need to.

She'd approached me hesitantly over the straw matting, a fit of violent coughing overcoming her so long that I'd succumbed and turned to glare at her.

She'd been so pale her freckles looked painted on against the clammy pallor of her flesh; a thin sheen of sweat coating every bare space of skin not covered by her coat. She'd been trembling and staring at me hopelessly from livid, sunken eyes.

I'd felt sick with disgust when she started to beg me. I kept on ignorin' her until she began to cry; thin, keening sobs that tore apart the still air of our den. Then I'd rounded on her.

"I. Will. Not. " I'd hissed at her through clenched teeth, as quietly as I was able and she rolled into a ball at my feet. "You're the one who's always talkin' about the right to choose – well I choose to say no."

She'd spun onto her knees, propping herself upright, spitting at me: "Then let me go! Let me go get it myself!"

And why shouldn't I let her go? If she wanted to end up dead in a ditch somewhere, that was her choice too, right?

I couldn't say, then, why I just jerked my head stubbornly, spinning my sai in offensive strikes. She didn't know how to get out of here. Not without getting lost in a maze of underground tunnels that could wind up being her tomb.

She'd kept on crying, face buried in the mats, for a few long moments before she got a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, smoothing the damp hair back from her face and sitting upright once more.

"What do you want from me?" she'd asked me composedly. "What do you want that will convince you? There's a lot I'm prepared to give, Raphael."

I'd paused. But only for a moment.

"You make me sick," I'd growled and she'd laughed, a nasty, scoffing sound.

"The guardian angel, Raphael, sees fit to judge the lowly."

I'd whipped around to her, sneering. "You needn't make like you're any better. I seen the way you been reacting to me and my family, Amber. "

She'd held my eyes for a long moment, hers red and swollen near shut from her emotion, then staggered to her feet and left the dojo. I'd turned and pummelled the punching bag so hard it jerked loose at the bolt.

She'd gone straight to the bathroom and shut herself in and I hadn't seen or spoken to her since.

As to what had happened to her pals from the streets; well, I was keen to get started on that. Real keen in fact. The memory of that warehouse kept sparkin' up in my head, along with the thug who'd been unloading those crates, who'd been sent after Amber. I was just achin' to pay them a visit and loosen a few mouths.

But Splinter had decreed no action until we got some answers from Don and whatever he could dig up through his computers. Startin' with the address I gave him.

I wasn't listenin' when he rapped on the bathroom door with another packet of valium and jug of water. The door opened a crack and she snatched them from him, slamming the door shut again quickly. If there was any sort of exchange, I didn't hear it. I fixed my eyes on the television as Donnie came back around, sighing and scratching the back of his neck, blinking eyes bloodshot from weariness.

From the corner of my eye I caught him hesitate mid-step and then move towards me.

"She'll be okay, Raph. You don't need to worry." He offered to me, and I glowered, still not looking at him, watching as Optimus Prime and Megatron tore each other apart.

"I ain't worried. You ask me, she deserves it."

I heard him sigh, could imagine the way his shoulders slumped with weariness. "Okay, Raph. I'll see you tomorrow."

There was a brief lull when he'd gone, a momentary silence in which I heard the faint whimpering. I snatched up the remote and hit the volume button hard, the soundtrack of explosions and gunfire swelling to consume the space about me.

I felt the approach, rather than heard it, but I was expecting anyone but Leo to sit down beside me, eyes similarly fixed at the action flickering in front of us.

"Hey." He offered. I only grunted in response.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"Mmmphf." I wasn't about to get into an argument with Leo now. I really was not in the mood.

I heard him sigh, caught a flash of movement. He was gazing down into his lap. I felt suddenly uncomfortable. I hoped he wasn't goin' to try and have another heart to heart with me. God knows, we hadn't been gettin' along so great lately, but I didn't understand his constant need to bring it up. We just riled each other up, that's all. No biggie.

The movie soundtrack faded out again and Amber's groaning rose to fill the silence. Leo flinched and then spoke.

"I suppose you hate me for that?" Funny how he sounded, kind of dejected, resigned. I couldn't help grinning. Could always string him along, I suppose.

I chose not to.

"To be honest… I'm kinda glad."

I hesitated a long moment before glancing at him shiftily, from the very corner of my eye, only to find he was doing the same. Almost shyly, he managed a grin and I managed one back.

"Don't' tell her that though, eh?" And his smile widened.

"I won't."

XVIII

Donatello yawned, scratched his plastron, stretched his arms up high above his head.

Tracking down the individuals or corporation behind ownership of the factory address Raphael had given him had proven more difficult than he'd anticipated. Firstly, it had been purchased in a private auction and he'd had to track down the real estate agency who'd managed it, the previous owners and then finally the new buyers. But that company had been just a dummy, a figurehead set up for the express purpose of buying land and properties. He'd had to trace them back to another company they were subsidiary of, a company devoted to new developments. But then, that company had been just a subsidiary of another one – and so it had gone on.

Finally, he'd reached the end. At least, so he thought. BioGlo. Even that had been just a trading name for BioGenDRT Corporation.

Already the lack of transparency had got Donatello's hackles up and he huddled over the computer monitors, rattling away at the keys. The entire den was completely dark, everyone else long gone to bed. Donatello's green flesh was washed in a strange hue of blue that many found eerie, unreal, even creepy the way it broke the still darkness of night, softly illuminating a limited space around it. Donatello, on the other hand, found it reassuring, with an almost tangible touch where it fell against him. He'd had to locate their server –and hack into it. Then decipher the files he found in there. The server had not been easy, a sophisticated system that had called for hours of deciphering.

He'd checked on Raphael's disturbed friend a short while before, only to find her passed out on the bathroom tiles. It had been three days since she'd been off her heroin, and if his research was reliable, the worst of it would be over now. Thank God! It had really put everyone on edge, but Raphael most especially. Donatello wasn't entirely sure exactly how well he knew her, but he was responding to the whole ordeal in a peculiarly Raphael fashion – utterly excessive in blunt emotion. Donatello didn't even bother to try investigating it further – the burden of one secret was more than enough. He felt a wave of guilt as he thought of Leo's annoyance and concern over the last few days. He, Donatello, had known something about what Raph had been up to but he had promised not to say anything. Now he was torn between risking Raphael's betrayed rage, or Leonardo's furious disappointment. Not much of a choice, really.

Donatello sighed. The lines of code running before him were doing his head in. He was trying to locate, in BioGenDRT's main database, the precise server location and passwords for the warehouse system. But the encryptions seemed to reshuffle themselves every hour or so, meaning he had to start all over again. Sheesh, he could really use April's help on this… maybe tomorrow when he had a fresh mind and a clear perspective he could start over. Sometimes, when he'd been working with a particularly difficult code for hours on end, the answers came to him during sleep, as though he'd known them all along and it only required a little relaxation to coax them from the hidden corners of his brain.

He yawned again and kept idly tapping away with one hand, trying different routes and code lines, only one eye on the monitor as he reached for his mug and took a swill, grimacing. The coffee had long gone cold and was bitter in his mouth but he swallowed hard around it, relishing the way it spread out from his gut like a spark of electricity.

Suddenly there was a beep and a flicker on the monitor in front of him, and he sat bolt upright, fixing both eyes on the screen.

He'd done it.

He'd not only located the server, he'd entered it.

Donatello sat, gazing at the screen uncomprehendingly for a long moment, eyes wide. Then he punched both fists into the air. YESSSSS! THE WINNAH! He thought, then quickly recovered himself, with a sheepish grin to the flickering screen before him.

Better act fast.

XIX

She became aware that she was soaking wet and gasping for breath. Drowning then. Somehow. She was freezing and yet an uncomfortable burning pain throbbed through her body, even while she shivered against the bitter icy wetness.

Behind the roar in her ears she could just make out a thin, keening sound and as the roar subsided she became aware it was she who was making the noise and she kicked out against it, against the sound, against her submersion.

Her feet hit something dull and hard, sending a racketing pain reverberating up her legs. She hissed, lifted her head only to feel it spin, spin around like she was in the goddamn Exorcist, and laid it back down. Something solid and cool beneath her.

Groaning, she tried to move one arm, the one nearest her face, and felt it obey, fingertips creeping tremulously across whatever cool surface she lay upon until they hit something cold, wet and smelly.

She jerked her hand back, the elbow extending over her side and slamming into something hard behind her, a sharp pain that jammed her finally out of her delusion and back into the present.

Her eyes creaked open slowly, feeling heavy and swollen. A cool blue-white filled her gaze, blurring in slowly then gradually and steadily separating and defining. Tiles. Stretching before her and upwards. She was in a bathroom.

Slowly, carefully, she twisted her head slightly and saw the mess her fingertips had come into contact with a moment ago. Vomit. Her vomit.

What had happened? Had she injected some bad gear?

Then suddenly, she remembered.

Struggling into a sitting position, she felt the sticky, heavy wetness between her legs and realised she'd pissed herself, as well. Wonderful. Naked and shivering she pulled her legs up, fighting the waves of giddy nausea that threatened to overcome her as she did so, reaching out for her coat and trying as little as possible to move her head about as she tugged it towards her, covering her naked body with it.

She couldn't say how long it had been like this. Half her time she spent crouching over the toilet bowl, the other half slumped upon it. She alternated between fits of raging heat so that she threw her clothes as far from her as possible, rolling around on icy tiles that could never be quite cool enough; to trembling attacks of cold, bundling up in her coat and crouching behind the cistern for warmth.

The cramps that constantly wracked her gut made her whimper. Somehow, she kept finding valium and water nearby. She never questioned, just swallowed pill after pill and drank as deeply as she could manage.

Yet somehow, this was the easier thing to do. Easier than having to be outside… dealing with everything. With Maria and the creep in the convertible… and the freak creatures, of which it would seem Raphael was one. So long as she was this sick they wouldn't come near her. She could huddle in here, by herself, alone. She wouldn't have to talk with them, try to swallow the bizarre sight of their strangely expressive and inhuman faces, forming words, arguing and reasoning with her. She shuddered, and drank deeply from one of the jugs, cool water slurping over the sides and running down her chin, splashing onto her freckled breastbone. Monsters. Monsters. She was alone, in the sewers, coming off the junk with monsters who had plumbing. The thought unexpectedly made her laugh and she choked on the water, breaking into a coughing fit that had her hunched over herself and sputtering onto the tiles. If only she could fix she could handle this better. She wouldn't mind. She could take them as they were. It didn't matter. She didn't have to be near them, in here. Didn't have to worry about any of that, for a while. No wonder Raphael would never let her see him. Raphael…

She felt a stabbing pain tear up from her breast then, and turned towards the toilet bowl, heaving into it. Nothing.

And so long as she was down here, she was safe from whatever was going on up there. In truth, that was all that had stopped her from trying to find her way out and back to Eva's at first, although she could barely move now. If the creep had wanted to kill her, he could've just put a bullet through her head, or snapped her neck. He'd drugged her though, which meant he must've been meaning to take her someplace.

Amber didn't really want to know what he'd been planning to do to her there.

XX

Leonardo was sitting upright on his futon, contentedly reading a book, enjoying these short moments of sanctuary and calm, when there was a rap at his door.

He looked up from the pages. Quiet, but not assured, like Master Splinter's, but ever so slightly hesitant. Donatello, of course. Michelangelo and Raphael, when they bothered knocking, were anything but quiet.

"Come in, Donnie." He called out and quickly memorised the page number he was at as Donatello slid open the door and entered.

"Hows it going?" Donatello queried, a sheaf of printouts clutched in one hand, gentle smile upon his lips and Leonardo stretched his arms above his head so that a spot in his back cracked.

"You know. Apart from having a withdrawing heroin addict in the bathroom, a moody younger brother determined to defy me at every turn and an impending soul-searching pilgrimage across the sea, pretty good."

Donatello's grin was suddenly conspiratorial as he sat down next to Leonardo, quirking an eyebridge. "You forgot to mention the hyperactive libido of a seventeen year old male."

Leonardo placed his book on his bedside table, neatly aligning it with the corners. "Yes well. I didn't think that bore emphasis."

The two chuckled together in the dim golden light of Leonardo's bedroom, throwing a dusky shadow over the futon where they sat.

"What's up, Donnie?" Leo got to the point when he saw his reserved brother glance at the printouts in his hand.

Donatello wanted to confess; to admit that Raphael and he had spoken about this puzzle a few nights ago, that he'd had an inkling of what the family hothead might be about to do.

"I managed to track ownership of the warehouse to a particular company." He began instead, holding up a hand when Leonardo started to congratulate him.

"It wasn't easy and it won't be easy to do so again." He said sombrely. "But what I found there was definitely disturbing. Large quantities of various chemicals and genetics material being purchased and sold. Some of it was stuff I didn't even recognise, but the file information didn't sound real good."

Donatello held out the sheaf of papers and Leonardo took them, brow creased in thought.

"Anything on the missing people?" he queried, to which Donatello shook his head.

"Not yet. But I'm going to keep looking."

Leonardo flipped through the printouts, not wanting to admit the technical-speak didn't really mean anything to him. Instead he asked a question that had been playing on his mind for awhile.

"Do you think the Garbageman has something to do with this, Don?"

Donatello exhaled and raised his eyebrow ridges. "That occurred to me too, Leo, but in all honesty, I don't think so. It just doesn't fit his M.O. The Garbageman just pounced randomly, at night, and he stuck to the homeless only. He wanted free labour, there was nothing to do with genetics or chemical research. Whatever's going on here, it seems seriously premeditated with a sophisticated operation behind it."

Worse luck. Leonardo sighed, shoulders slumping.

"I hate to admit it, but Raphael seems to have really stumbled across something here. We need to find these missing people, Don."

His gentle younger brother reached out a hand, touching his shoulder.

"I know, Leo."