It was soon obvious why the other captives were so high on the human. Using trays specially designed to lock onto the lower part of the gate so that he could slide the panel aside and shove them into the pen without giving any of the inmates a chance to escape (or try to bite or claw him) the man began to push food and water pans into the pens, one pen at a time.
Raph couldn't see how the other residents handled it, but he saw that Spot quickly snapped up a few morsels, running off with what looked like a hunk of chicken as the wolfdog rushed him. She had remained under the wooden platform until the man went on to the next pen, as if her fear of him overcame even her hunger and thirst. But the second he was gone, she took over the food pan, snarling at Spot even as he fled to a far corner to finish bolting his food down.
The reason for her hurry became apparent as the lizard slowly turned himself around and climbed down the ramp, making his way eagerly towards the pans. Raph knew the lizard could move much more rapidly when necessary, but the cold made him disinclined to do so, and probably also slowed his metabolism so that he wasn't as hungry as the mammals he was caged with.
But, once he arrived, the lizard immediately hissed and tried to push the ravenous wolfdog away. She snarled at him, snapped, and then dodged out of the way as he swung his jaws at her. Raph knew what those jaws had done to his arm, and suspected what they were capable of on the soft body of a starving dog. The wolfdog took no chances, but continued to pace around nearby, slipping in at the slightest sign of opportunity to snatch a strip of meat from under the lizard's nose.
Fearless now that both predators were occupied with the free lunch, Spot circled them from a respectful distance, and arrived neatly at the water pan, which he pulled off the tray with a forepaw, dragging it several feet in, and then settled down for a long drink.
The yard became fairly quiet as the captives stopped calling and presumably settled down to fighting amongst themselves over the meager portions they had been allotted. Raph wondered when they'd last been fed. He'd suspected they were not being cared for when he'd noticed how thin his cell mates were, but seeing the desperation with which they went after their food brought it home.
Spot had risked showing his back to the wolfdog to get a few extra bites, trusting that she would be so focused on the food in the pan that she would let him get away. And, though the lizard could clearly kill her if she failed to stay out of his reach, the wolfdog continued to dance around him, just so she might frantically snap up a tidbit here and there.
Raph knew that domestic animals didn't do well without someone to care for them, but he felt that they all -domestic or not- would be better off running loose where they might at least be able to look for food, water and proper shelter. It seemed to him that being hit by a car and killed instantly might be preferable to what seemed to him to be slow torture.
But perhaps that was only his view from the inside, and his own wild nature talking. Raph was never one to deny when he was biased about something.
The food pan was emptied in a matter of moments. The lizard turned and waddled back to his makeshift throne, but the wolfdog turned on Spot, driving him away from the water dish in growling fury. She then drank from the dish until it was completely empty. She flipped it over, dug under it, found nothing, and then did the same with the food pan.
Spot ran away only a short distance, then continued at a dignified trot until he found where Raph had crouched. He sat and lifted his front paws, licked them, and swiped them down his whiskers, then licked them again, cleaning his face thoroughly of every trace of meat.
"See?" Spot said cheerfully, "We get fed."
Raph, completely stunned by what he had just seen, couldn't find any words at all, and simply stared at Spot. There had been no food yesterday, he knew. Was Spot really expected to live on just the few ounces of meat he'd managed to secure for himself for days at a time? That one food pan hadn't been big enough to hold sufficient food for the wolfdog even if she'd been fed regularly, forget the rest of them. And was it nothing but some rather ripe smelling scraps of meat for them?
He shuddered, and not from the cold.
"The pan'll be good if it rains," Spot continued, seemingly unaware of the internal horror Raph was trying to come to terms with, "At least until she chews it to shreds again. She always does eventually. Can't help it, I suppose. Frustration from looking for what isn't there. Darned nuisance though. If she'd just leave it alone, we'd have more water, and more often too."
"And... you live like this?" Raph managed hesitantly.
Spot looked up at him, his eyes very large and round, "Well, sure. You get used to it after awhile," he rolled onto one haunch to free up a hind leg so he could scratch an errant flea, then he seemed to forget why he'd lifted the leg and waxed thoughtful, "Anyway, it's not so bad if you give up the idea of trying to get out. And the sooner the better, you know. Best to save your energy. Never know how long it might be before your next meal and all," he remembered what the foot was for and scratched behind his ear, his eyes rolling as he found the itchy spot and gave it a thorough kicking.
Raph didn't say he'd rather die than accept this kind of life, which was no life at all. Spot had resigned himself to endurance, and criticizing that acceptance seemed like it would be cruel when Raph had no alternative to offer at present. Instead, he got up and went to investigate the pans and the tray to see what -if any- use they might be.
The wolfdog fled at his approach, returning to her usual hiding place, while Spot went skittering in the opposite direction and slowly made his way over to Raph. He took the opportunity to pull the food pan off the tray. Raph guessed the tray, and anything on it, got pulled out at some point. Spot wanted as many pans in the pen as he could get, so that they'd fill with rain water.
It was clever, Raph had to admit.
The pans were shallow rubber things, not rightly pans or buckets, but some cross between them. The tray was of a thick, weather-resistant plastic, and had been locked into place by a latch on the outside. It fit perfectly in the gate, filling the space left by the panel. There seemed no way to damage or remove it from the inside, so Raph quickly abandoned trying.
He returned to the place along the fence where he'd been interrupted. Spot followed closely.
"Oh come on, not this again," Spot moaned, "You're just gonna hurt yourself."
Raph ignored him, and climbed up the wall.
He didn't even make it all the way up before he came crashing back down. He had no reserves of energy left to draw on after the cold night. He was beginning to regret not having secured a share of the meager resources they'd been offered, especially water. He just didn't have the strength to keep up on the fence, especially not with the injuries he had. There was no choice but to give it up for the moment.
As he had done that morning, Raph sought out the sunniest patch of mud he could find, lay down on his plastron, pulled in his limbs, and tried to soak up as much warmth as he could, careful to orient himself so he had a view of the wooden platform (and its occupants both on and under), and the house.
Spot climbed up on his carapace, curled up, and began to purr loudly. Raph didn't object. In fact, once he'd gone down, he couldn't find any energy to object to anything for a long time.
When darkness engulfed the city for the night, the turtles were already up. After a brief delay during which they ordered pizza and wolfed it down, they picked up where they'd left off the night before.
A light sprinkling rain was all that was left over. Because they had a lot of ground to cover, and also because it was colder than Leo wanted them to be out in for a long time, they took the Shellraiser. None of them had much to say as they went to work.
There didn't seem to be anything to say.
Don was reassigned to his post in the Shellraiser, though Leo had no intention of his leaving it. Instead, he'd stay in the back with his equipment, now not only finding out more about any individuals they'd found even a scrap of information on in the apartment, but also keeping an eye on the vehicles they'd put trackers on. Leo and Mikey went back to the surface, to cross more names off the list, and to check up on the ones Leo had decided they could keep an eye on without benefit of tracking.
It struck him anew how massive an operation this was for three turtles who didn't really know what they were doing, but he quickly pushed his concern aside. The simple fact of the matter was he didn't know what else to do, and it was obvious that Mikey needed to be doing something. Leo needed that too, though he was reluctant to admit it. However small the chance, he had to know that he'd at least tried everything that he and his brothers could think of to find Raphael.
The storm had finally broken sometime during the day prior, and the streets and rooftops were slick with rainwater, though of course the first evidence of rain Leo and Mikey found on their way out was the amount of water they found in the drainage tunnels. It wasn't a flood, but it had been a pretty fair storm from the looks of things. Leo had slept through the whole thing.
Mikey didn't appear to have participated in any more self destructive behaviors, but the look in his eyes warned Leo that he wasn't far from it. All the turtles were closely bonded, but it had always seemed to Leo that Mikey and Raph had a special relationship. Given the opportunity, Mikey was a pest to anyone and everyone. But Raph was ever his favorite target, and it seemed to be more than that the red-masked turtle was easily provoked. Raph voluntarily stuck close to Mikey even when they weren't on a mission. Given the way that Mikey seemed to perpetually be annoying to him, the behavior was odd. But you had to pay attention to what Raph did, not what he said. And what he did said he wasn't just acting as control for Mikey's nonsense, not just his protector, not just his brother, but his friend as well.
The hole left in the lives of all the turtles by their brother's absence was enormous and painful, but for Mikey it was worse, not only because of the special bond he had with Raph, but because he was far more in tune with his emotions than the rest of them. One might even say he was ruled by them. While Leo and Donnie could bury their emotions in logic and strategy and other occupations, Mikey didn't have any distraction. He only had emotions he couldn't get through as long as he didn't know whether his brother was alive or dead.
None of them really knew how to grieve for a dead member of the family because they'd never had to do it before. But the not knowing made it worse. They weren't even sure if they should grieve or not. Raph was gone, no denying that, and Leo wasn't willing to give up on him, but how were they supposed to feel in the meantime?
"Hey, guys, listen to this," Donnie's voice from the back of the Shellraiser was so unexpected that Leo actually jumped a little, and briefly glanced over his shoulder.
Mikey looked equally startled. They'd been at it for just over an hour. During that time, they'd made several stops where Leo and Mikey got out, but no words had been exchanged between any of them.
"I found a website address on one of the scraps of paper we picked up," Donnie continued, "It seems to be for a science blog of some kind."
"Science blog?" Leo queried.
Don went on as though he hadn't heard, "Listen to the first paragraph of this post: 'New York City is the most populous city in the United States, and is home to over eight million people. With just over three hundred square miles of land area, you wouldn't expect to find much in the way of wildlife in the paved roads and planned communities of this densely populated city'."
"Okay, bored now," Mikey remarked.
"Let him read, Mikey," Leo advised.
Mikey rolled his eyes, but fell silent, and Donnie went on, "'I came to New York with the intention of finding and studying a rare, previously undocumented species rumored to live in the city. I didn't have much hope. Reports were sketchy at best, and not even the locals seemed to have much in the way of knowledge when it came to the habits of these elusive creatures. Where could they be found? What did they eat? Were they mammal, reptile or something else entirely? Nobody could answer that question. For over three weeks, I searched the city for any sign, and spoke with many people. But all I heard were rumors. At the end of the third week, my team and I were beginning to despair of ever finding any sign of these creatures. But then, a lucky break. As we were driving home one evening after a fruitless day of searching, one of my assistants spotted something leaping along the rooftops.'"
Don had their full attention now, and nobody said anything when he paused this time.
"'There they were, four of them, cavorting about the rooftops like some kind of monkeys, just as real as you or I. At first, we found it difficult to tell them apart, but after following them for a time and making notes, we found each to be unique in coloration and marking. Though their physical appearance suggests a terrapin ancestry, their behavior is more that of wolves, with a strict hierarchy and predatory hunting tactics. They are extremely territorial and clash violently with other animals from time to time, though the reasons are unclear as their eating and breeding habits are as yet undocumented. They each bear a different color and, though it is unclear whether or not the colors are permanent, we have already begun to call each by the color mask it has. There is a clear leader, Blue, whose rule is absolute if not unchallenged. He is the pack's Alpha. Orange is the omega, less dominant than the others and more likely to be picked on. As the smallest, Orange probably also has more difficulty holding his own when they catch prey as a group. Purple and Red are of unclear rank, though Red is easily the most aggressive member of the pack, and obviously wants to take Blue's Alpha status from him. All we have seen appear to be male, and it is unclear where the females can be found'."
"Whoa, dude, they could be talking about us," Mikey marveled.
"Mikey, they are talking about us," Leo said.