A/N: Finally! Boy it sure is a lot of work to balance writing multiple fics and a busy life schedule but I finally finished this chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter 10: Pandora's Box
Steady…
The shadowy figure scurried in and out of the holes in the rubble.
…aim…
The little pest was fast, but he was also so plump and bigger than most he saw. In and out of the shadows he weaved. He could almost be a ninja if he did not squeak so loudly.
...fire!
Splinter released the arrow and watch as it found its target, impaling through the rat's neck.
Yatta!
He smirked at his accomplishment. In the beginning, his efforts were clumsy. His long claws always got in the way, making it difficult to grasp the wire properly. Sometimes the string would slip out of his fingers prematurely, dropping the arrow to the ground. The process surely tested his patience but he was determined not to give up. His boys counted on him. They needed the meat. Like any growing child, they required the protein to keep up with their growth and development. The motivation was what he needed to keep his sanity as he pushed through the physical obstacles of adjusting to his new form and incorporate his ninja training. The end result felt awkward; however, time and practice have proven useful in the transitional phase. Splinter finally found himself ghosting silently down the corridors, his katas became purposeful, and weapons could be handled properly. The accomplishment gave him a boyish excitement of finally mastering advanced techniques. He was beyond elated!
Splinter jumped down from the overhanging pipe, landing gracefully with a slight bend in his knees. He walked over to the dead rat and knelt down next to the corpse. He pressed his palms together and silently thanked God for the precious gift. Then he plucked the arrow out and wiped the blood off before replacing it in the quiver. Gripping the rat in one hand, Splinter headed down the tunnel that led back home – at least what he considered home for the meantime.
It was not much but at least he and his turtles were able to sleep in peace without worrying about any humans intruding on their space. In fact, it was possible no human even knew it existed anymore. Even Splinter had found the area completely by accident. Though weren't many great discoveries found by pure serendipitous chance?
After that fateful night with the city workers, the mutant family had kept to a nomadic lifestyle, sleeping wherever convenient for the night. Once awake, they spent the day moving on, eating as necessary, then moving again until slumber beckoned them for the night. It was not a stable life, but it was a safe life. Though the journeys were often slow. The turtles couldn't help it. They tired easily. Donatello usually trailed the furthest behind – at times he lagged at such a great distance that Splinter had to resort to carrying him. Raphael still crawled but maintained a strong will to hold onto his independence and insisted on crawling with his other brothers despite their newly developed skill in walking. Splinter had not witnessed the first steps of Leonardo but noticed Raphael shortly after trying to mimic the action but lacked mastering balance. Michelangelo shortly followed in Leonardo's footsteps, which seemed highly motivated to keep distance between him and Raphael. Donatello on the other hand seemed devoid of all interest in learning the skill instead often preoccupying himself with the various subterranean lifeforms he came across. Either way, Splinter carried far lighter loads than their first day together.
On one such migration, the turtles had required rest and as such used the moment to eat before venturing on. While remaining within eye-shot of the turtles Splinter progressed forward to peer down the intersecting tunnels to gauge their potential next route. The tunnels were poorly lit due to extreme neglect. The crumbling walls were enough of an indication of this sections decrepit state. Yet Splinter cautiously stepped foot into one corridor to determine its viability. He propped his hand against the wall as he proceeded. He only made it a few steps before his hand slipped through a flimsy cloth covering. Losing his balance, Splinter went tumbling down a series of wooden scaffolds. Some boards he bounced over while others caved under his weight. All the while he tucked his body to protect Donatello until he finally landed hard on the stone ground, knocking the wind out of him. Gasping deeply, pain emanated through his lungs. Dust coated him and Donatello earning them a series of high pitched sneezes from the turtle. Splinter wiggled his fingers and toes, assessing the potential of broken bones. Initial prognoses suggested he will suffer only deep bruising, but nothing broken.
Releasing a loud groan, Splinter gingerly sat up and inspected the dust covered Donatello. His deep olive color paled under the grey grime. Other than fighting coughing fits and sneezes, the little one seemed physically fine. The echoes of panicked chirps roused Splinter's attention back up the rickety structure. Three anxious heads peered down at their trapped guardian and brother.
"Tomare!"
All three turtles stopped in their tracks, but their pleas were incessant. Fearful cries continued to bounce off the cavern walls. From his makeshift satchel, Splinter drew out his flashlight. The cavern was especially dark – no light source except for the dim illumination from the original tunnel. Had he knew of this potential danger he would have had the flashlight in hand sooner. But he only had a few batteries left and thus used the precious resource sparingly. He flicked the flashlight on and scanned the area. Based on the crumbling walls and the few wiring in place, Splinter suspected the area was a renovation project that was now abandoned. A nearby metal bench had an elegant antique feel but the few fixtures connected to the wires were newer, yet still old by current standards. Perhaps an attempt to revitalize the area for public use again but proved to not be feasible. The thick coating of dust confirmed there was no danger of new visitors anytime soon. Splinter walked forward still scanning the area. At one end, an archway dead ended into another room. The room was small and monopolized by large kegs. Perhaps this was one of those underground alcohol black market centers from the prohibition era. Splinter then turned perpendicularly to another opening. He investigated and found another tunnel – the never ending labyrinth. This entry point would need to be blocked in order to contain the ever wandering youngsters.
The area proved to be an ideal location to set up long term residency. The barrels were tall and heavy, providing an adequate barrier for the turtles. Yet the barrels did not completely block the entry, allowing Splinter easy access to the tunnels. The small room was converted into a bedroom. Over time, Splinter repaired the scaffold with any wood and nails he had scavenged over time. Having found old oil lamps, Splinter was able to illuminate their dwelling off of the fat from corpses that he occasionally came across or were left over from his hunts. On one of his runs through the lower tunnels, Splinter even found an old supply room from which he rescued usable tools and threw out the rest. Now the room housed the weapons he recovered from his storage unit. It was a long process but he managed to save the most priceless of possessions. And now that he has come face to face with danger, he became convinced that self-defense measures were indeed necessary.
Fortunately, a couple of months have passed since establishing their new settlement and the need for protection had yet to arise. Still Splinter sought solitary, spacious areas to train - to acclimate his new body to yield weapons with powerful grace. He refused to allow himself to be caught unawares, in a state of weakness. It amazed him how several anatomical adjustments made every weapon feel awkward in his grasp. How spatial awareness had to be compensated so he did not whack his leg with a bo, or hit his head with nunchaku. Everything had changed, but he was determined to master his old skills. Time and patience would be on his side.
Smiling with pride, Splinter still relished in his giddiness of successfully capturing his prey. His patience and strong will paid off. It felt like a huge leap forward. Now if he could just master exerting patience with the boisterous toddlers. Feeding time would be a hassle as Splinter would need to shred the meat into more manageable pieces. Tearing into a rat meat was far more challenging than crushing bite-sized insects. The turtles were not the most patient children either. Soon Splinter became lost in thought as he devised a plan to prepare the meal without having tiny hands attempting to grab their share while roasting the rat over an open fire.
His attention quickly snapped back to reality as his ears pricked up to a faint sound. Splinter halted as he took in the soft echoes. Whimpers. Splinter's heart instantly dropped to the pit of his stomach. It definitely was one of his turtles! Splinter nearly dropped their dinner as he raced back home. He hastily climbed over the barrels and landed on the floor. Not far from him, Michelangelo stared with tear stained cheeks as he sniffled. Leonardo nuzzled his smaller brother seeming to be shielding him. Splinter glanced around and found Raphael in a far corner glaring at the pair.
Great…
Lately, Raphael's temper had been escalating, regularly challenging his brothers. Sometimes he was competing for food, other times for small trinkets – "toys." If one brother found a stick to draw in the dust, Raphael wanted it. Splinter even had the luck of finding an old rag doll; Raphael monopolized it the moment the doll came home. Now that Leonardo and Michelangelo were walking, Splinter experimented with the concept of potty training the boys, using a pot he found. Surprisingly Splinter was finding success in instilling the concept. The two boys made good attempts. Sometimes successful, other times completely missed the mark, resulting in foul smelling puddles. But the attempts confirmed that the process was worth practicing. Raphael, however, made it a point to push his brothers off the pot so he could sit on it…with his diaper still on. For Raphael, it was not about earning independence from the diaper. No, this was about dominance. So the fact that the air was thick with suspicious intensity immediately alerted Splinter to a recent tussle.
Kneeling in front of Michelangelo, he surveyed the boy for the source worthy of the tears and whines. As he scanned the light green body, his eyes fell on a deep purple spot. After closer inspection, he actually noticed one deep purple and a light purple mark. Small and a bit circular – like he was pricked with a sharp point. Splinter looked closer – no tears and there was nothing nearby that appeared to be used as a sharp weapon. So, what caused the bruising?
Splinter glanced around the room again and caught sight of Donatello. Like always, Donatello laid on the outskirts of any and all activity. He was especially cautious when Raphael was up to trouble. At the moment, Donatello was engaged in a new habit that had developed in the last couple of days. Until then Splinter had dismissed it as unimportant. But now it warranted further investigation. Donatello sat with his index finger (or would it be his middle finger) in his mouth. His jaw clenched hard on the appendage. The finger was always pressed in the same area but the pressure did not seem to bother him. Instead, the turtle was content on chewing his finger. Eyes narrowed as he considered the implication. It was farfetched, but what if….?
Splinter slowly walked over to Donatello as to not cause the youngster alarm. Donatello had come a long ways in trusting Splinter, yet was still quite the anxious type and easily startled. Splinter knelt down and gently coaxed Donatello's mouth open and removed the thick finger. He then grazed his thin finger along the gum until he found what he suspected. A bulge. The moment he hit it, Donatello clamped down. Pain radiated through Splinter's nerves. He used his free hand to cup Donatello's jaw and pressed at the joints forcing the mouth to open again, releasing the imprisoned appendage. With the mouth open, Splinter peered in. He never had the opportunity to experience this moment with Miwa but from the books Shen had read, Splinter was convinced he was looking at the beginning of the teething process. Splinter had never seen a turtle with teeth but perhaps these turtles had more human genes than he initially thought.
With narrowed eyes, Splinter stared hard at Raphael, who sat glaring back at Splinter. His lower jaw gently ground against the upper jaw as if intentionally applying pressure on a particular spot. Seemingly in a similar location to Donatello's bulge.
"Raphael, koko ni kite," Splinter commanded firmly, pointing to a spot directly in front of him.
The response was so quiet, Splinter was not sure if he actually heard it at first.
"Raphael," Splinter repeated, louder and sterner.
"Iie!"
Deep brown eyes shot open wide. Splinter definitely heard it that time. In his moment of faltering conviction, Raphael turned his back toward Splinter as if announcing his victory in this battle. Splinter balled his fist as he recovered from the shock. Marching over to the defiant turtle, he whirled the child around and pried the little mouth open. Splinter growled his frustration as his suspicions were confirmed. In addition to the bulging gum on one side, the adjacent occupant was a little pearly white, sharp tooth. Raphael had indeed bit Michelangelo's arm. Without hesitation, he swooped Raphael off the ground, earning him a cry of alarmed surprise. Splinter then sat in front of Michelangelo. With a terrified yelp, the Michelangelo tried to flee but Splinter caught him by the wrist and instructed him to sit down. The turtle reluctantly complied, putting all his trust in the rat. Splinter displayed the bruised arm for Raphael to see.
"You cannot bite your brother!" Splinter lectured the turtle. He grabbed Raphael's hand and forced him to lightly stroke Michelangelo's injury. "We use gentle hands with our family. No biting, no hitting! Hug Michelangelo and apologize."
Much to Splinter's amazement, Raphael complied without protest. He reached out and stiffly embraced the injured brother, who looked as if he was shaking in Raphael's arms. However, the apology was absent. While Splinter had begun conversing with the turtles more often, he had not put much effort in actually teaching essential phrases. But who knew they would actually start talking?
"Go-men na-sai," Splinter enunciated clearly.
"Go-me mamai," Raphael slurred.
It was a start. It was enough to confirm that the turtles were capable of speech. The little mutant turtles had no idea yet, but this newfound ability was a powerful connection to humanity. While a blessing for Splinter to be able to connect to his turtles on a brand new level, the underlying curse was undeniable. The ability to converse and comprehend was the key to opening a Pandora's Box of understanding a world that the turtles would never be able to fit in.