He'd spent as long in his room as it had taken for Leo's door to clunk closed, then Raph abandoned the lair in preference of restlessly prowling the sewers. A part of him knew he should be trying to sleep, but the bigger part knew that either it wouldn't happen or, worse, it would invite back the nightmares.
Better to keep moving, to give his body something to do and hope that his mind would be kept suitably distracted. Then eventually, when he was tired enough, he would be able to fall into the easy, dreamless sleep that followed dogged exercise.
Several times he was cut off from the path he'd intended to take through the passageways, as usually empty overflow chambers were instead filled with reeking, stagnant waste. It smelt worse than normal, with a chemical undertone that made his head hurt. The waste water engineers must be trying a new treatment; hopefully they'd keep it away from the lair.
Raphael's winding path snaked beneath the West of Manhattan Island, before crossing over and travelling back alongside Central Park. Not that the turtle got to appreciate any of the usual sights that a tourist, or even citizen, would want to see. His view was somewhat different and, at length, he began to tire of the sewer architecture.
Ducking under a large pipe that spanned the path he was traversing, Raph kept moving until the route opened into a wide access tunnel that headed straight up. Gazing in that direction revealed pipes and cables crisscrossing the expanse before leading to where a tiny circle of light beckoned.
To proceed required climbing the slim metal handholds that were set into the stone walls, a challenge that Raphael attacked with relish. He could feel his muscles protesting as he passed the first marker, then the second, and still the ladder continued. By the time he reached the top, the turtle was forced to halt for several moments to recapture his breath and allow the trembling of overexertion to diminish.
The sunset was just starting to paint the sky with vivid oranges and reds, as Raph glanced through the lattice panel to the city above. The shadows were stretching out, inviting him into their murky embrace, despite the hustle and bustle he knew would be on the streets. The fact that Leo would insist it was still too early just made decision even easier.
Senses honed, the ninja moved down a side channel to the nearest manhole cover, from which he emerged into a litter strewn alleyway. That, in turn, led to a thin passage. It sliced between two buildings before opening into a small, disused courtyard where weeds and uncut grass vied for dominance. The area was overshadowed by the buildings that surrounded it. The mossy pathways were riddled with spidery cracks, while the single remaining bench was unusable, as it lurched tauntingly towards its missing leg.
In one corner of the forsaken area stood an aging fire escape, winding its way towards the sky. Caution would be required, as several of the brackets constraining it to the wall were almost rusted away. Challenge accepted without even a second thought, an empty flower stand gave the turtle the boost needed to reach the first level. Then with a light step, Raphael made his way towards the rooftop.
Upon reaching his target, he finally halted for a time to gaze out over this part of the city from the vantage point that height offered. His muscles were aching in such a way as to give fair warning that the worst was yet to come, after the marathon effort of the prolonged obstacle course, following more than a day and a night of no rest.
In a twisted kind of way, Raphael was looking forward to it. He deserved to ache. The pain was nothing compared to what his poor brother was going through.
Regret, sat patiently waiting for this moment within the confines of his mind, would be side lined no longer. Looming to the forefront, the weight of it reduced the strong-willed turtle to burying his face in his hands. If only he'd been paying proper attention to what was happening. If only he'd allowed Donatello to knock him to the floor on the first attempt.
Futile conjecture, but still the thoughts bombarded him in a relentless stream. All his strength, all his training, and yet he had not only failed to save Donnie; he had caused the problem.
If there was ever a list compiled of the worst big brothers in the history of the universe, Raphael was positive his name would now be permanently inscribed within it. And if Donatello didn't make it… His name would go straight to the top, with the incident used as an example of terrible brotherliness for the rest of eternity. He would make certain of it.
Leaning against the barrier surrounding the roof, hidden from clear view by the shadow of the building's water tower, Raphael lowered his hands and stared numbly at the streets below. At this time of day, they were buzzing like a beehive with people finishing up work or heading out for evening entertainment.
There was an element in truth to there being safety in numbers. But amongst crowds, light-fingered criminals could always be found. One was operating right before Raph's eyes, so obvious that it was impossible to miss.
A middle-aged man in a suit was the target, too busy jabbering away on his mobile phone to realise as the slender woman slipped by him and liberated the wallet from his back pocket. He walked on, oblivious of the wrongdoing that had just been committed.
The guy almost deserved to have his pocket picked. But, having seen the crime happen while simultaneously desperate to escape the torment of his own thoughts, Raphael couldn't just leave it alone. Holding the woman in his sights didn't prove to be too difficult. She darted down the next alleyway along, before pausing to examine her prize.
It was too easy. A sodden blanket scavenged from nearby went over her head and, by the time she removed it, the wallet and the one who had relieved her of it had disappeared. Her curse echoed past Raph, but he didn't care.
Bounding back the way he came, it was simpler than he'd expected for Raphael to locate the wallet's owner. The man had stopped on the street corner to continue his conversation, with the addition of animated hand gestures. Better yet, his back was to the alleyway where the turtle crouched in the shadows.
Raph had been intending just to drop the leather holder in front of the guy and let him ponder its miraculous arrival. But, as the pocket was so readily presented within an arm's stretch of a trash can, he impulsively decided to shove the wallet back where it had begun.
It was a little disappointing but not particularly surprising that the man paid the same attention to his property being returned as he had to it being stolen. As the call finished, he snapped the case to his mobile device shut and headed off in a hurry.
With a heavy sigh, Raphael stepped back again into the deeper shadows.
"Hey, Raph?"
It took every bit of ninja training he could muster to not leap out of his shell at the sudden utterance of his name. Whirling round, the turtle glared at the teen.
"What, Casey?!" he snapped.
Casey tilted his head slightly, picking at his ear. "I was just wondering… What did you slip to Don Vizioso's guy?"
"I was-" Raphael hesitated, "Don… Vizioso's guy? That was…"
His eyes widened slightly. Vic Fulchi. He'd just returned the wallet of Vic Fulchi, a known member of the Don's Mafiosi and a wanted criminal. With a growl of frustration, Raph smacked the edge of his fist against the wall. Could he do nothing right?
Casey put his hands up. "Whoa, I'm sure you've got your reasons, dude!"
"Come on," Raph snarled, not waiting to see whether Casey was actually following before he turned to pursue Vic and find some way to redo the right that he'd wronged.
"Was it gunpowder? Tell me it was gunpowder!" he heard Casey say.
Raphael ignored his friend in favour of hurrying to try and keep pace with Vic, while remaining safely hidden from view. Something that proved ultimately to be impossible, as the mobster joined the throng of people crossing to the far side of a busy junction. The move left his stalker stranded, gazing after with a conflicted expression that he fought to conceal behind a layer of anger.
"Leave this to Casey Jones."
With his usual gappy grin, Casey passed by the turtle before heading out of the alleyway to navigate the junction with the rest of the pedestrians. He glanced briefly back towards the shadows and, with a hand gesture, indicated 'call me'.
Raph would rather have punched him, but right now that wasn't an option. Instead, he was forced to vanish back down the alleyway and began the laborious task of scrambling up to the rooftops, where he could safely take the long route to the far corner of the intersection. Every movement caused his aching body to howl with complaint, but heedless to this he pressed on.
Skidding to a halt on the far rooftop, with neither Casey nor Vic in sight, the turtle was forced to pull out his T-phone and resort to tracking his wayward friend.
7 missed calls, 3 voice messages and 4 texts from Leonardo.
For a moment, Raphael stared blankly at the screen. His brother was obviously desperate to reach him.
Ignoring the tightening in his chest and the emotional turmoil that sought to choke him, Raph skipped past the alerts from Leo and loaded the screen to track Casey's mobile signal. A few seconds later, the icon appeared showing that the teen was heading East on Canal Street, towards Little Italy.
Made sense. Don Vizioso had several bases of operation in that area. Vic would be returning to one of them, probably relating to whatever that call had been about. Which meant Casey could be about to run into a whole heap of trouble, Raphael thought with a grimace.
Pressing the button to dial his friend, Raph simultaneously started making his way to the Italian district. It wasn't easy to move with stealth while holding the shell shaped cell to his ear, but he persevered regardless.
It took several rings before the devices connected. "I'm on Canal Street!" Casey immediately stated.
Raph frowned. "Yeah, I know. Donnie put- … We can track you, moron!"
The responding scoff was clearly audible. "Then why'd you call?"
"Because you're walking into more than you can handle. Scraping you off the pavement ain't my idea of a good time."
"Casey Jones can handle anything."
"Not this, Casey." The conversation was making Raph's head hurt. "Just… Just stop! Leave it. We'll go back another time."
"No way, dude! I wanna see his pants explode!"
"What?! No, you—"
There was a click before the phone fell silent, as Casey disconnected. Raphael lowered the device and stared at it with an equal measure of frustration and conflict. He contemplated just leaving the fool to his fate. But he couldn't. He couldn't let someone else get hurt.
Before he had chance to move, his T-phone leapt back into life as Casey called back.
Raph scrabbled to answer. "Casey!"
"Forgot to say… Leo wants you back at the lair. Gotta go – I wanna see Vic go boom!"
This time, the turtle let out a roar as the line went dead.
