The show had been sensational. Cassio, dolled up to the nines as 'Cassi Candi', had leapt, danced, strutted and strode across the makeshift stage, belting out show tune after show tune, interspersed with bouts of side-splitting comedy. 'She' had picked on some of the members of the front row, tastefully avoiding Des and Don, every comment laden with racy innuendo. The finale had been a belting rendition of the song Cabaret, and despite having little interest in musical theatre, Donatello had found himself enjoying every moment.
At one point he sneaked a glance over at Desdemona, who was smiling broadly. After doing some quick calculations, Don wasn't surprised that she was happy. The room was absolutely groaning with patrons, taking up every seat and squeezed into every corner. There were even a few hanging from the walls at the very back, humans and mutants alike. If there were around three hundred people – a conservative guess – who had paid ten dollars entry each… That was $3000, not including the drinks and marijuana. And of course, there would be no tax to pay – why pay tax to a government that refused to recognise your existence? Yes, Desdemona had a lot to smile about.
The smell of marijuana was the only thing keeping the stench of unwashed bodies at bay. The room was roasting as the mutants pressed together under the glare of the spotlights, and apparently the clientele were not the most hygienic under normal circumstances. When the show had ended he was glad that Desdemona had stood, and they exited quickly to leave Cassio to bask in the glory of his fans. They walked into the back stairs where they had had their first confrontation and Des lit another cigarette, poised carefully in a long black holder.
"Thanks for escorting me," she said. "Did you enjoy the show?" she asked with one eye-ridge raised.
"Actually, I did," Don said. "Cassio sure is…something."
"My little money-spinner," Des said. "I advise you to stay and enjoy the evening with your brothers. When was the last time you had a genuine night on the town?"
Don crossed his arms.
"Never, actually. There aren't many mutant-friendly theatres or nightclubs where we're from."
Des sucked on the long holder and shrugged her shoulders.
"There should always room for new experiences. Anyway, I have to go. I have someone waiting for me upstairs." She looked at him intensely. "I might have something for you later."
She disappeared up the stairs, her high stilettos clicking rhythmically on the concrete stairs. Suddenly the magic was gone. She wasn't some kind of demure consort whom he had accompanied to a grand social event. She was a whore, and after seeing a raunchy burlesque performance she was off to service another client. Don's shoulders sagged and he shook his head. All he wanted was to go home. He scuffed the ground with his toes before heading backstage and towards Cassio's dressing room. With luck, Mike would still be there; Don needed his brother's enthusiasm to lift him from his gloom. It didn't take long before Don reached the room; he walked in.
"What the – Mikey?"
Immediately, Don doubled over and guffawed. Michelangelo was standing in from of a floor length mirror with a long red wig on his head and holding a sparkling ball gown up against his plastron. On seeing Don he immediately gave one of his patented screams and threw the dress behind his shell.
"Dude, what the hell? Haven't you heard of knocking?"
Donatello's eyes streamed with tears as he leaned against the door frame, his chest heaving as his laughs bellowed loudly.
"Oh Mike," he said, gasping for air, "I'm sorry, but that was just what I needed."
Mike's scowl gradually faded into a sheepish grin as Don straightened up and wiped off his face.
"Oh, man," Don said. "I am sorry Mike, it was just so funny."
Mike grinned wider and glanced at himself in the mirror again.
"Yeah. This guy just has so many wigs and outfits. I couldn't help it!"
Dom glanced around the dressing room again as he composed himself. The actual masonry of the room was falling apart. The walls were cracking and a very poor attempt had been made at a repair on the ceiling, but the contents of the room were striking. Boxes, bags and rails of clothes and shoes of every colour and material were lined up. There were belts and scarves hanging from hooks, as well as some raunchier items. Everything had been altered to fit the male turtle's frame and to accommodate his shell. It was like a mutant transvestite's dream – which, Donatello realised, was exactly what it was.
"This sure is an Aladdin's cave," he said.
The long bar lights hanging from the ceiling buzzed and cast an artificial glow over everything; all of the pieces of glitter caught the light and winked. Michelangelo placed the wig in an empty box, presumably the one he had found it in, and scratched at his scalp.
"So, what did you mean by 'you needed it', dude?"
Don immediately schooled his emotions and let as nonchalant an expression come across his face.
"Oh, nothing, Mike," he said lightly. "I was just glad to get away from the crowd. It was pretty claustrophobic, and the smell of weed was just…too much."
Mike raised one eye ridge in a strange parallel with Desdemona's expression earlier, but Don wouldn't give in. Judging by the look on Mikey's face, he wasn't about to either. Don sighed and clapped his brother on the shoulder.
"C'mon," he said. "Let's go find Leo and Raph. I'm sure they'll have some stories to tell from tonight."
Mona pulled her belt tightly across her abdomen and scowled. The once loose-fitting band of leather was now struggling to clip together. Mona poked her belly and scowled deeper. She was definitely getting fatter. She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. Everything was going wrong.
It had been days since Raphael and the others had apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. Every night since Mona had snuggled up in a cold, empty bed. She would have berated her own weakness for all the tears she had shed into her Raph-scented pillow if it wasn't for the fact that her heart was completely broken, as well as feeling very sick every day. Of course, she would never admit it to Raph, and to Splinter and Mei she was a pillar of strength. The mother-to-be was too worried about her children and their future to do much else, and Master Splinter spent the majority of his time in meditation trying to contact his sons. It meant that the day to day running of the lair had largely fallen to Mona alone. She tightened her arms and felt tears bead under her eyelashes. She couldn't lose face in front of the others, but the façade was beginning to crack.
She let her arms drop and straightened her back, her chin tilted upwards. IEnough of this/i. It was time to suck it up. Mona brushed her short hair back from her face and attempted to adjust her belt again. Tonight she was getting a respite from the housework and hopefully from her worries with a visit to April's for a girl's night. Mei had been invited, but no amount of cajoling could convince her to leave the lair and her eggs. So it would just be April, Mona and some movies, popcorn – and Ben & Jerry, of course. Mona gathered up her few belongings and stowed them in the pockets of her belt, before giving one last glance at the painfully empty bed, and stepped out of her bedroom and on her way.
It was after midnight before the turtles returned to their temporary home. Together the four brothers had escaped to the rooftops of the city, but none of them had anything in particular to say. Don had sensed an intense sadness flow through them all as they had hopped the rooftops, making it all the way out to stare at the Statue of Liberty, bathed silver in the moonlight. However, they weren't their rooftops; it wasn't their Lady Liberty. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that it was just too much to bear, for they all made to return at the same time.
They returned to the apartment via the roof. There was light and voices coming from the main living area, and Michelangelo immediately slunk up to the door, which was only ajar by a few centimetres. He pressed his eye up to the crack and beckoned for the others to join him. Inside, Desdemona was pacing up and down the room in bare feet. Othello was sitting on the battered couch with his hands behind his head.
"We need to find a way to get into that building," Desdemona said. "This makes it even more important."
"I agree," Othello said, his voice a soft, gravelly rumble. "She's up to something, and this appearance of these turtles from 'another dimension' by her hand makes her all the more dangerous. What exactly is she up to? How did she do it?"
Desdemona grunted and reached for her head; Mike clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle his squeak of surprise as the female turtle buried her fingers in her hair and yanked the whole lot off in one go and threw it on the floor.
"A wig?" Mike whispered, although when he thought back to Cassio's dressing room he wasn't so surprised.
Don shrugged and placed one finger against his lips in a signal for quiet, and the four returned their attention back to the pair inside the living room. The similarity between Desdemona and Othello was even more striking now that Des was bald. Their skin and eyes were identical, and their facial structure was very similar, with minimal differences likely due to their opposite genders. Othello's chin was stronger, whereas Desdemona's cheekbones were more prominent. The fact that the Michio Haruka woman had managed to create a clone of the opposite sex was fascinating, as far as Don was concerned. But, of course, it was hardly the most unusual thing the turtles had ever encountered.
"I don't know how she's done what she's done," Des continued, "but it makes it even more vital that we find her and we take her down."
"Getting to her isn't going to be easy, but maybe with these ninja we'll have a better chance. I saw two of them sparring, the orange one and the blue one. They're amazing."
"Michelangelo and Leonardo," Desdemona said. "Have some courtesy and learn their names. The 'red one' is Raphael and the 'purple one' is –"
"Donatello," Othello cut in, throwing his sister a significant look that went completely over Mike's head, but caused Leo and Raph to cast their own 'significant' looks at Don. "I know that one."
Don's face screwed up in confusion and he did his best to ignore his brothers. Desdemona cast a warning glance at Othello.
"Anyway," he said, evidently sensing the signal to back off, "I wonder if they've returned yet. We need to update them on what's happening."
"Go and find them for me, will you, sweetie?"
Othello's face softened into a smile for the first time since the turtles had met him, and Desdemona reached out to pat her clone's cheek before Othello made for the doorway.
"Ninja vanish!" Mike whispered.
The brothers were gone before Othello could place a gloved hand on the door handle and go off in search of them.
