A/N: Thanks for reading, and thank you to the kind person who nominated this fic for Best Dark Fiction for the TMNT Reader's Choice Awards! xoxo

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"Do it." Splinter had ordered his pride and pain.

The ambulance doors klunked shut. Close quarters. Ms. Mendoza squished her ample bottom into the far corner. It was like she'd never seen a giant rat before.

Splinter squinted in the humming, white light. "How are you doing, my dear?"

Among other things, beating the sense into Michelangelo had dulled the edge off Splinter's razor-sharp anger. Good thing, too, for this lady's sake.

She finally remembered how to formulate words. "Where's my partner?"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Folsom, he's on the, how-do-you-say, mothership."

"What?!" Her face paled. Splinter controlled the smile tickling his whiskers and admired her bravery. She managed to ask, "What are you doing to him?"

Ms. Mendoza flinched when he spread his well-manicured hands. "Don't you worry, we're not the anal probing kind of aliens. He's perfectly fine." He let that sink in for a moment. "I do have a test for you, though."

The EMT lady blinked eventually. "What?"

"One of my specimens has a knife in his eye, and I want to see if you can take it out without killing him."

This did not sit well. "That's…" Head shaking. "No! No way!"

Splinter got nose to snout with her, putting some gravity into his red, itchy eyes. "I think you will. In fact, I heard, humans will do anything to survive."

If the woman shrank away from him anymore she'd the turn inside out. Her body jerked at Michelangelo, who tapped on the backdoor, signaling his return.

Hoping she was smart, Splinter ordered. "Gather what you will need. Now." He didn't want to kill another good woman. Poor Johanna.

The EMT casually opened a drawer and brandished a scalpel. "Stay back, ratón!" She slashed the air to pieces.

Splinter twirled his whiskers. In hindsight, smoking that Indica in the cab over here had kept him mellow, but now, he was not only an alien, but a galactic bastard with a sick, medical fetish. Awkward way to start a first date.

He swept her off her feet. The sausage-woman crumbled to the floor and scrambled for her toothpick-like "weapon". She clutched the fallen scalpel like she'd done something Olympic.

Splinter rolled his eyes then noticed his tail. The tip snaked over his shoulder, rising up like a hungry cobra. Damn thing often had a mind-of-its-own. The scalpel snapped clean out Ms. Mendoza's grip. It was gone. He dismissed his appendage with a wave of the hand. Magic.

"Let me show you what we're dealing with." Splinter swung open the ambulance doors and called his not-so-lovely assistant. "You."

Spoiler Alert! It was Michelangelo. Perhaps Ms. Mendoza had expected another giant ratón?

Johanna's dead.

Let's focus on the present.

The turtle's unholy face convinced the paramedic that now was a good time to pray. She rocked back and forth whispering en Español.

"Master." Bruised and bitter, Michelangelo handed over a phone and wallet. He looked and sounded like he had landed without a parachute. But, the teen was a fast healer and his old man always took it easy on him.

Splinter treated Michelangelo with a crushing hug, whispering. "Good work, my son. Now, help me with the stretcher. She's coming with us."

The embrace tightened. "Really? To save Raphie?"

For fuck's sake, Child! "If he's not already dead; let's go!"