"Daddy? What's going on? Where are we?"
Holding Rosalind in one arm, Allison had allowed her father to drag her through the convention center until things started looking weird. And "looking weird" was initially in reference to them having walked through a wall, never mind what awaited them on the other side.
The convention center had faded away into a nebulous world where Allison's spatial judgments were constantly tested. A strange purple/magenta light shone from everywhere and yet nowhere at once. Rosalind seemed enchanted by the pretty radiance. When that thought sprang to Allison's mind, she had to shake her head, trying to forget everything Raphael had insinuated and everything she had read the night before.
No, she had to tell herself. No, no, no, no! Get it together, Allison. There's gotta be a completely reasonable explanation for… for… for why your father has led you through a portal into another world after claiming that Leonardo and Raphael just attacked him. She didn't understand why Leonardo would do such a thing given his vehemence against Raphael's behavior, but there was something else she didn't comprehend. If two ninjas had seriously attacked him… how was he still walking?
"Daddy, okay, whoa. Stop. Let's just stop a second. I'm starting to feel a little… really, let's just stop and go over this for a second." Despite her pleas, Vincent didn't halt until they began approaching a small, strange-looking figure. Allison stopped moving her feet, but she was amazed by the sheer strength the man that she thought of as her father displayed as he effortlessly dragged her along.
"You've brought the girl," said the short, gaunt creature. Allison cringed as it seemed to look at her hungrily with its large silver eyes. "Good. The Royal Circle will be most pleased to see that you have kept your end of the bargain so far."
"Never mind that," Vincent told him. Allison noticed that his voice had changed somewhat, turning into a sort of raspy hiss. "The magic you've given me is beginning to wear off. At least three of the turtles are aware that something is afoot, and this woman is beginning to show signs of resistance. As far as I know, I've only complete control over one of the humans, and I can't trust him to carry out-"
"Your difficulties in wielding this magic are of no concern to us," replied the creature without a hint of emotion. "Let me have the girl, and we shall see what can be done to replenish your magic. Still, even if we reverted your glamour to full power, there is little need for it. Your enemies are on their way here even as we speak."
"Then give me another type of magic!" Vincent hissed. He turned to Allison, who flinched at the thought of being handed over to this strange being. She was surprised when Rosalind was pulled away from her and given over to the creature instead. "Here is the child, as promised. Give me what I ask, and I'll see to it that you get the woman, as well."
Allison tried to reach for Rosalind, but Vincent held her back. The creature regarded her curiously. "I find it amusing," he told Vincent, "that you believe that I can't see to it that the woman comes with me."
"Trust me, ain't nobody goin' with you, faerie boy!"
Allison turned around at the sound of Raphael's voice. She cried out his name and meant to run to him, but Vincent kept his arms around her. "You'd do well to stay your distance," he said as he spotted the rest of the turtles and Casey Jones following behind him. "You wouldn't want me to break her little heart."
He reached a hand into her button-down sweater, meaning to clutch for her heart. He stopped suddenly, his hand encountering something unexpected. He tried to let go, but his body suddenly didn't want to cooperate. Allison found herself grateful for not returning Raphael's turtle pendant.
Seeing this as his opening, Raphael ran towards the two of them and sent a flying kick at "Vincent's" head. Allison fell to her knees, throwing her arms up over her head as a bright light started coming from her "father's" hand. As Raphael crouched besides her and shielded her, a strong wind began to pick up. "What the heck is going on?" Allison screamed over the gusts.
Instead of answering, Raphael only hunched over her even more. He knew he should have tried to get her out of there, but he didn't want to admit that he had actually hurt his foot upon impact with the pseudo-Vincent's face. Considering the fact that that had never happened before, Raphael had the feeling that once he got a glimpse of this guy's true form, he was going to wish he had bit through the pain and ran as fast as he could, pulling Allison along with him.
"Oh man," he heard Michelangelo remark. "Not you. I thought when we pulled you and the Daimyo's son apart, you disappeared into the middle of Oblivion or something. Can't you bad guys ever just stay dead?" Though he knew who Michelangelo was referring to, Raphael spun around.
Straightening himself behind Raphael and Allison was the dragon creature known as Drako.
Allison made a startled sound in the back of her throat. Raphael looked down, seeing her wide-eyed expression as she stared at the creature that had masqueraded as her father. "D…Daddy?" It broke Raphael's heart to hear the tremor in her voice.
Both of them cried out when Drako quickly lunged for them, grabbing them each by the throat. "A heartfelt moment," he murmured, "between two heartless little children." To Allison, he proclaimed, "You've fulfilled your purpose. Enjoy your life with the faeries." He offered her no other words as he flung her aside, sending her flying towards a group of small fays that were approaching.
"Bud!" Michelangelo called. As Raphael struggled against Drako's grip, Michelangelo and Casey raced over towards Allison. She was dazed on the ground, unaware of her present danger as Michelangelo took out his nunchucks and Casey readied a couple of golf clubs from his bag.
Casey noticed that the faeries hesitated when he took out his chosen weapons. "That's right, punks," he told the creatures that cringed as he swiped his clubs through the air. "These are what they call nine-irons. Who's up for a round on the puttin' green, huh?"
Michelangelo noticed that the small faerie that had taken Rosalind was running away, using the confusion around him as cover. "Hey! Mini-bud! Hold 'em back, Case. I've got a rescue to pull off!" He was already on his way towards Rosalind as he spoke.
"Mikey!" Donatello called. "Wait! We can't afford to split up! If the faeries-"
"Go get 'im, Donnie!" Casey yelled back. "These gooks ain't goin' nowhere so long's I keep these clubs out. I'll stay with Allison while you and Mikey get the kid back!" Though it was against his better judgment, Donatello nodded and ran after Michelangelo.
"Nice surprise, Drako," Leonardo stated as he took out his swords and rushed the dragon. "You didn't exactly come to mind when Don gave us the rundown last night, but I know one thing; it could have been a lot worse than you."
Leonardo didn't even see Drako move a muscle before Raphael was hurled towards him, his brother's hard shell knocking the wind out of him. With a groan, Raphael rolled off of Leonardo, saying, "Y'know, the next time ya yell at me for stickin' my foot in my mouth, bro, I'm gonna remember this."
"Watch out!" Leonardo yelled as he grabbed Raphael, the two of them rolling away from a bright blue energy blast. "Gather your strength," he whispered to Raphael, noticing his loud groan. "I'll do all I can." With that, he rose and ran for the dragon again, this time adjusting for Drako's enhanced speed.
He parried his swords with two beams of energy that Drako manifested in his claws. "Love the new toys," Leonardo grunted as he bore down on his opponent, "but we didn't come here to play."
"Pity," Drako snarled at him. "I did." Leonardo was surprised to be suddenly pushed back with an unexpected amount of force, barely having the time to arch away from a swipe of Drako's claws. The split-second in which Leonardo was distracted with defending himself was all Drako needed to knock one of his swords out of his hand. Drako then punched the turtle away soundly. "Pathetic. Even when you claim to band together, you couldn't be further apart."
"Wanna reevaluate that, creep?" Drako managed to look up just as Raphael's fist slammed into his face, knocking him back. As Leonardo regained his balance, Raphael said, "Not like I woulda listened to ya otherwise, Leo, but I noticed that we're stretched a bit too thin for one of us to just take a five-minute break." Finally noticing that they were the only ones preoccupied with Drako, Leonardo realized that he was right.
Meanwhile, Michelangelo and Donatello chased after the lone faerie that was making off with Rosalind.
"Okay," Michelangelo huffed as he maneuvered through the unfamiliar landscape, "once I get my hands on that little brownie, he's so going down! It's bad enough he's messing with people's minds and stealing kids, but making me twist around in this stupid obstacle course is earning him one shell of a butt-kicking!"
They stopped in their tracks after reaching the peak of a strange incline. Below them, they saw that the faerie had been joined by scores of his kind, every single one of them bearing at least one weapon. "Urk," Michelangelo whimpered as he put a hand on Donatello's shoulder. "Why do ya let me talk, Donnie? Why do ya always let me talk?"
"You're a regular jinx, Mikey," Donatello murmured, troubled by how drastically outnumbered they were. "If we manage to live through this, remind me never to spend time with you ever again." The two turtles tensed up as the faerie they had chased after issued a command that the others seemed to take as an order to attack.
They were both surprised when the air in front of them seemed to tear open as a tall woman stepped onto the scene. The charging faeries halted in their steps. Noticing the sudden trepidation radiating from their enemies, Michelangelo asked under his breath, "Whoa, who's the babe?"
Before Donatello could tell him to keep quiet, the woman took a step towards their opponents, pointing at them with a large, intricate staff she was carrying. "Mordam! Return the child to her people, and this shall be relatively simple!"
Mordam—as he was apparently called—seemed to shield the distressed Rosalind from the woman. "This is not your fight, Jidara! Go back to your home and let this pass!"
"This has been my fight since Kaldus opened my eyes," Jidara insisted. "The child goes home. Now!" Because they were behind her, Michelangelo and Donatello didn't catch the green flash of her eyes. But they did see what she managed to do when she slammed her staff down into the ground.
Both turtles thought that their vision was doubling before realizing that there was nothing wrong with their eyesight. It was as Donatello heard the boys in the Wi-Fi room talking about; Jidara seemed to split herself into numerous versions of herself that flooded the land around the turtles. Donatello had the distinct feeling, however, that these "fakes" could probably inflict wounds every bit as painful as the original. Otherwise, the other faeries wouldn't be so worried.
Dozens of Jidaras turned to look at Donatello and Michelangelo. "Take the child," her amplified voice told them in surround sound. "I will take care of the rest." With speed that impressed even the two trained ninjas, Jidara and her clones sprinted down the incline in full attack mode.
The turtles blinked down at the ensuing fight, stunned by the unexpected assistance. Finally, Michelangelo spoke. "Why do I have the sudden urge to yell, 'This is Sparta?'" Donatello withdrew his bo, telling his brother to focus on the task at hand instead of making pop culture references. As they ran down in an effort to grab Rosalind, Michelangelo remarked, "Sorry, bro. It's what I do."
They had to duck and dodge numerous blows from the faeries, but most of these were aimed at one of the Jidaras who were doing an impressive job at evening the odds. Once he had a clear shot, Michelangelo thrust one of his nunchucks at Mordam's feet. With a short cry, the faerie stumbled onto his side. It looked like he was going to turn in an attempt to attack, but Donatello got to him and shoved his bo into his stomach. "We keep the kid," Donatello told him levelly. "And you keep your vital organs. Sound fair?"
Mordam said nothing as Michelangelo plucked the weeping Rosalind from his arms. "There, there, mini-bud," Michelangelo cooed. "It's okay. That was just one of Santa's naughty elves. We'll have a talk with the management at the North Pole."
She put her small arms around him as he attempted to calm her down. "Uncle Mikey, too much fighting. Make it stop."
Michelangelo's eyes lit up. "Hey! She does remember me!" Donatello commented that that was impossible, since she hadn't seen them since she was just a few months old. "Well then, Allison must talk about me. Nya-ha, I knew I was her favorite turtle! So what if-"
"Mikey, duck!" Knowing that Michelangelo wouldn't have the time to follow his orders, Donatello pulled his brother down and quickly turned. Half a dozen arrows hit his shell, driving him to the ground. Mordam used this to his advantage and threw a powdery substance in the turtle's face as he rolled away. Donatello cried out as he tried to rub the dust out of his eyes.
"Donnie!" Protecting Rosalind after remembering that they were in the midst of a battle, Michelangelo crawled towards Donatello, who was now on his knees and making disturbing sounds of distress. "Donnie, whoa! Thanks, bro! From where those arrows were coming, they would've gotten a lot more than just my shell." He put a hand on one of the arrows and attempted to pull it out before hearing the noises that his brother was making. "Don? Donnie, what's wrong?"
"Mike," Donatello said in a low voice as he turned to him. "I'm trying hard not to worry, and I really don't want you to worry… but I'm thinking that our situation got just a little… worrisome." His hands warily reaching out for Michelangelo, he whispered. "I can't see. I… I think I'm blind."
Michelangelo shuddered. Donatello? Blind? In the middle of an epic battle? He was a sitting duck out here. Looking up, Michelangelo saw that Mordam had gotten up and ran away. He stood and was about to chase after him when he heard Donatello call to him. "Mikey? Are you still there? Oh shell. Mikey?"
Crouching down, Michelangelo muttered, "Yeah, yeah I'm here, Don. Right here." When Donatello clutched his arm, Michelangelo knew that he couldn't get involved in the fight. Not only did he have Rosalind in his arms, but he couldn't just leave Donatello alone. Ninja or not, this was not an ideal place for a blind training session. Mostly because it couldn't rightfully be called "training." If more of those arrows started flying…. "I'm staying right here, Donnie," Michelangelo repeated. "You, me, and Ros. Don't worry."
Donatello tried not to panic. Still, he couldn't ignore the fact that going blind had always secretly been one of his worst fears. Without his sight, how could he read? How could he program his machines? How could he be a fighter? Don't panic, he told himself even as he gripped Michelangelo tighter. Don't panic, don't panic. Not panicking. Okay, a lie. Totally panicking.
He was dismayed when he almost cried out as a smaller hand touched him. "Is he hurt?" Donatello recognized the timid voice as belonging to Rosalind, and realized that he wasn't in any danger. Michelangelo had Rosalind and would stay there to watch both of their backs. "He can't get hurt here. This place is magical. Just like in stories."
"Reminds me of why I hate magic," Donatello muttered.
"I'm never gonna want to read another fairy tale as long as I live," Michelangelo stated.
Looking around to keep an eye on their surroundings, Michelangelo was surprised to see that Jidara had taken care of all of the opposing faeries. He saw no bodies littering the floor, but that didn't make him think that there were no casualties. For all he knew, Jidara probably lost a couple of her copies in the skirmish, too.
Michelangelo watched as one of the Jidaras walked back to the staff that she had jammed into the ground. When she took it and uprooted it, all of the other Jidaras seemed to collapse back into her. "Whoa," Michelangelo breathed again. Worried, Donatello asked what the matter was. "Nothing dangerous," Michelangelo attested. "Just cool. Really cool. Hey Donnie, I want a staff. Let's switch."
Jidara turned to the huddled turtles, her green eyes shining and her braided black hair in disarray. "You," she called to them. Michelangelo noticed that she was breathing hard. Apparently, faeries were subject to fatigue. "I told you to take the child and leave. What are you still doing here?"
"Uh, we kinda hit a snag," Michelangelo replied. He looked back at his brother as Jidara made her way towards them. "Trust me, I don't wanna be in this place any longer than I have to be."
"I would think that your shells would provide you with protection," Jidara said disdainfully as she crouched behind Donatello and looked at the arrows protruding from his shell. Donatello tensed up when he felt one of the arrows being brusquely pulled away. "If they only provide larger targets, then I am amazed that evolution has not fazed them out."
"Evolution doesn't really figure into the equation, where we're concerned," Donatello told her. "Regardless, the arrows are the least of my problems. How good are you at reversing blindness spells?" Though he couldn't see it, Jidara had stopped what she was doing and looked at him curiously.
"Blindness spells?" Jidara asked. "Other than glamour and replication, I am afraid that my magical knowledge has its limits. I am a fighter, not a magician. Perhaps if it were an immediate glamour trick, I would be able to assist you."
"Look," Donatello told her, trying not to get testy, "I don't know what it was. All I know is that that Mordam guy threw some powder in my face, and now I can't see anything. If you can reverse it, then hey, I'd really appreciate it."
"Dude," Michelangelo said to him quietly. "Don't get touchy. We already came to the conclusion that ticking off the faeries is a huge no-no. So while you're doing a Daredevil impersonation, cool it on the Raph-speak, okay?"
"Mordam," Jidara uttered with distaste. "He is an anxious little fool, a lackey for the High Councilmen. I doubt that the powder was anything other than a defensive measure to allow him to escape." She continued speaking as she plucked the remaining arrows from Donatello's shell. "In the case of an immediate glamour trick used for defense, the victim experiences a physical disability that terrifies him, making him believe that he is too lame to fight. The effects are only illusory… but I'm afraid when it comes to a manifestation of blindness, that doesn't help."
"Great," Michelangelo remarked as he set Rosalind down on his knee. "So he's not really blind; he just thinks he is… which kinda makes him blind for real. Gotta love faerie magic, bro. It screws you over no matter how you look at it. That is, uh… if you could look at it."
"I would hardly consider it magic," Jidara told him as she wrenched the last arrow out. "It is a simple parlor trick and requires no real skill. My people tend to favor more elaborate, elegant means of exhibiting our abilities."
"Oh," Donatello commented, "you mean like making us want to maim one another as we bicker because you were protecting an evil dragon that's tried to kill us and who once also stole the Time Scepter and the War Staff to wreak havoc upon our lives? Yeah, real elegant."
"My people had nothing to do with the Deceiver's return to your world!" Jidara cried out. "It was the High Councilmen of the Royal Circle that decided to aid him in the hopes of revitalizing our race. Because our numbers are so few, those who wish to rebel against the Royal Circle could do nothing to stop him. We could only hope that someone would be able to defeat him before he sacrificed the humans to meet his own mad desires. Because of who we are, we could not make our move until now."
"Want to explain that to me?" Michelangelo asked. "And real slowly, like I'm only as old as the kid in my lap. Because if you guys are as super powerful as I just saw, then I don't think you're as close to Death's door to warrant needing a whole planet conquered to meet your needs. Sounds a little like overkill to me. Or… over-survival, I guess."
"And I would agree with you," Jidara nodded. "My family, however, does not see it that way. You see, I am Jidara of the Royals, and have watched countless efforts on the parts of my family to save our kind. It did not take me long to see that their methods were all doomed for failure. Even when they knew this, they still pressed on, not wanting our people to lose hope. I have come to the conclusion that it is not the despair of our people that they fear, but their disapproval. We have watched the human world for centuries and know too well of the ground-breaking consequences of a revolution, and my family does not wish to lose its power to the masses. After Kaldus attempted to assassinate my brother, I saw that this revolution was standing right at our doorway. I struck a deal with Kaldus, granting him release from the dungeons with the promise that he will make no more rash moves, and that the rebels remain quiet until we have all agreed it was within our best interests to strike. It was not long afterwards that the Deceiver found his way to our lands, and we knew that we could keep silent no longer. Though we could not use our powers to directly aid you while you waged battle with him in your world, bringing the fight here will enable us to show the people his true colors and reveal just how faulty the Royal Circle is. We will defeat this Deceiver, and we shall have our revolution. I can only hope that things continue to go as well as they have been so far."
"Okay, two things," Michelangelo immediately said. "First, I just gotta say that I love the idea that the weirdness over the past couple of days is due to us being caught in the middle of a faerie civil war. And please note the sarcasm in my voice. Secondly, yeah, things are going pretty well. I mean, Donnie's blind and Allison is probably emotionally scarred for life and hey, maybe Leo's lost a leg by now."
"Mikey," Donatello growled warningly. "And you tried to tell me not to get touchy."
"Point is," Michelangelo continued, "this is way over our heads, lady. We don't mind fighting wars for other people; heck, we've been there and done that. But look at this. There's a two-year-old sitting in my lap who's got no clue about what's going on. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
"It is for her that I fought this recent battle," Jidara told him, her eyes looking down at Rosalind. Michelangelo saw that she actually appeared to have a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Long have my people taken infants from the other world and raised them as our own. I was one such infant. And though I am grateful for the knowledge and power that I would never have possessed had I been raised a human, I realized that this was horribly unjust to the parents who had their babies replaced with a sickly faerie, only to suffer as they watched it die days later. I suppose it took becoming a mother myself for me to make that realization."
Jidara gripped her staff and rose to her feet. "Come. We cannot stay here. The Royal Soldiers will undoubtedly be here soon. I can handle Mordam's kin, but I cannot defeat the very warriors that trained me. We must go back to the Deceiver and do what we can to keep him in one place. Kaldus and the others are gathering our people and bringing them to see the horror that the Royal Circle has unleashed upon the human world. Once that has been set, we can destroy the Deceiver and this will be over."
Michelangelo lifted Rosalind and helped Donatello to his feet. Donatello mentioned, "Yeah, that's great and all, but I'm still kind of a little on the sightless side. You assumed that it was a glamour trick and said you could help out if that were the case. Would you like to take a crack at it?"
Jidara peered at him for a moment before answering, "From what I've heard, your intelligence is formidable. As such, you should realize that glamour tends to fall apart once you know that it is merely glamour. Free your mind of its fear of blindness, and your sight should return to you. If you cannot, then I'm afraid there is nothing I can do for you."
As Jidara began walking, Michelangelo took Donatello's hand and led him along. "Free your mind," Michelangelo snickered. "Why can't she just tell you to choose between a red pill and a blue pill?"
"Pop culture references, Mikey," Donatello grumpily reminded him. "Stop making them."