That night Dragon Face and Max sat with their limbs hung through the railing of an abandoned rooftop terrace, drank a stolen bottle of whiskey, and came to terms with the fact they had nowhere to go. Since they hadn't recruited Angel, that meant Basilisk had a hit out on them. Since the cops in the area were crooked, they couldn't ask for official help either. Not that they would, being Purple Dragons and all. As he stared down at the city Dragon Face realized he hadn't had a plan for what to do after he got Angel on their side. Not to mention they hadn't even gotten her on their side in the first place. The whole thing was a bust.

"Gotta find a new pad," said Max. "I can't crawl back to my parents' place. I can't."

"I know."

"Know anyone in Jersey?"

Dragon Face grumbled. They shouldn't be having this discussion. What they should've been able to do was go back to the warehouse. Purple Dragons were supposed to always be welcome there. He felt adrift and frustrated. It was like playing some cheesy board game and getting thrown back to the start point for no good reason. Or maybe because it was rigged. He'd felt this way back then too, before he earned his tat. And he was willing to bet Max felt the same.

Max passed him the whiskey. Dragon Face took a sip. It burned his throat less and less the more he drank.

"This is kinda like old times," said Max.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Make light of this."

"Who's making light? I was just saying."

Dragon Face raked a hand down his face. His tat started to feel less like a symbol and more like a scar.

"Maybe we could ask Jane where she's staying," said Max. "If girly's staying anywhere."

"Give it up, Max. We're on our own."

Max snatched the bottle and downed the rest of the whiskey. Then swallowed hard and erupted into a fit of coughs. Wrong pipe probably. That or he couldn't hold his booze. Dragon Face rolled his eyes and whapped Max's back but Max didn't seem to notice. He waved his hands around in a vague gesture of thanks. Or maybe it was a gesture of knock it off. It took a while but he did get his voice back.

"Ain't on our own if that sentence has got we in it."

"Not sure if you count," quipped Dragon Face. Was it a quip? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he wasn't sure if anyone counted anymore.

"Ooo." Max punched him lightly in the arm. It was a sloppy hit thanks to the drunkenness.

Old times huh. The lights from below shone on no more of Dragon Face and Max than their legs, and the unlit rooftop terrace felt colder in the dark. High up and removed. Nothing at their backs.

Shouldn't it feel better to be looking down at all the little people?

"If we ain't asking for help," said Max. "Then we might gotta start walking."

Walking was the last thing Dragon Face wanted to do. But he couldn't argue because he couldn't think of anything better. He and Max disentangled from the railing and made their way down to street level. They walked shoulder to shoulder out of Purple Dragon territory and toward one of the most dangerous parts of New York. A lawless place where even the gangs had plenty to fear.

"Sure you wanna walk this way?" asked Max.

"We're unimportant here."

"Fair enough." Max pulled the chain from his waist. When he wasn't in a fight he always claimed it was a fashion statement. Not here. In this part of town there was no point in artifice. Everyone showed who they really were. Women snapping gum who wore heels too high and bottoms too short. Cars with the windows shot out left parked in empty lots. Barely any streetlamps that worked. Dragon Face ached for the cold metal of a broken pipe against his palm. He multitasked between checking their surroundings for danger and checking for things he could turn into weapons. Should've kept the whiskey bottle. Would've come in handy.

Not like there was any reason to turn back now.

Funny thing about growing up in New York. You learn which shady stuff to pay attention to and which you should probably let slide. If it were a normal night then Dragon Face would've ignored the sounds of the local girls working their streets. None of his or anyone else's business to interfere with something like that. But it just so happened that on this particular night at this particular time he and Max heard the sound of a woman choking. Followed by a man sounding, let's just say, pleased.

Dragon Face wanted to leave it be. Honest.

But Max couldn't.

###

Kit didn't remember passing out but she must've because she awoke on the turtles' couch. It made sense. The human body could only take so much stress before it shut down. While her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the Lair she wondered how much time she'd lost. She inched her way up the cushions feeling groggy.

"Stay put." Raph pressed her back down. "If you need anything I can grab it for you."

"How long was I out?" Her mouth tasted like it needed a toothbrush.

"Couple hours."

"How's Michelangelo?"

Raph moved to point at the entertainment system where Don and Mikey were having a debate about movies in the blue-tinted glow from the screens. Kit hadn't seen most of the titles they were discussing but some she'd heard of. She was always more of a book person. Books were portable. Mikey in all his enthusiasm looked better, a lot better, cheerful, and was digging through a cardboard box that overflowed with DVDs. More were stacked in loose piles on the floor.

"Found it!" Mikey pulled a DVD out of the box with a flourish.

"Eight Legged Freaks?" Don snatched the DVD out of Mikey's hand and added it to one of the piles, which made it clear to Kit there had to be some kind of organization to the mess. "Seriously?"

"What? You don't think we should commemorate our new house pet?"

Kit glanced around for Anansi's jar and found it safe next to the couch. Someone had moved it while she slept so she'd be able to see it without having to get up off the couch. Which was probably one of the nicest gestures anyone had done for her, made sweeter by the fact it had been carried out without a request. Such a small thing, but it mattered. Who moved it though? Which turtle? Now she was curious. Raph? Couldn't be. He wouldn't get within three feet of the jar and kept making excuses not to touch it.

"We're not watching some B-grade horror flick," said Don. "Pick something else."

"Aww. You're no fun. And after you said I could pick what we watched and everything too."

"Can it, motor-mouth. Just because you're still on the mend doesn't mean you get to be extra annoying. Find something reasonable. There's a gazillion to choose from."

Who moved Anansi's jar would be a weird topic to bring up in the middle of this debate. Guess the mystery would never be solved.

"Movies?" asked Kit.

Raph chuckled. "Kind of a family tradition. We got popcorn too."

"Did someone say popcorn?" Splinter arrived with a glint in his eye and Leo in tow. Leo held a jumbo-sized bowl of popped kernels that wafted the scent of warm butter and salt through the room. Suddenly Kit found herself craving food. Something. Anything. When was the last time she'd eaten? Oh yeah, breakfast. Before the stuff with Savvy and her father. She was ravenous.

"Food," said Kit. Leo lowered the bowl for her to reach and she took a gigantic handful. With no decorum at all she scarfed it down. It didn't satiate her appetite. She couldn't remember the last time she was this hungry.

"Try not to hog the bowl," said Raph. "After all, that's Mikey's job."

Mikey stuck his tongue out and blew raspberries.

Kit hogged the bowl. She couldn't help it. It was food and it was in front of her and she was so hungry. Raph took a few handfuls for himself and didn't scold her. He slid up to sit on the couch and she lifted her feet for him to make room. Eventually Leo tugged the bowl away from them and gave it to Mikey. Don didn't even bother reaching in and Splinter took up residence in the armchair while Mikey tossed Daredevil aside. He made a different selection. Apparently this one Don had no problem with.

"Your attention please." Mikey imitated an announcer as Don went over to the back of the couch and lounged right across the top on his side. This must've been normal seeing as Raph didn't budge. Leo sat cross-legged on the floor next to Anansi in the space between Splinter's armchair and the couch. Klunk hopped on Splinter's lap and after a few kneads curled up, which was kind of a hilarious image. Giant rat with a normal-sized cat. "If you would kindly turn your eyes toward the screen. We have our Movie Night movie."

The turtles cheered. Kit guessed that was probably another tradition.

"I am curious to see what you have selected, Michelangelo."

"We ain't really watching Eight Legged Freaks, are we? Once was enough."

Leo and Splinter smiled slyly. Neither said anything. Klunk mewed.

"Don't worry, Raphie." Don draped his fist down at Raph for a bump. "I vetoed that selection."

Raph returned the fist-bump. "You the turtle, Donnie."

"And don't you forget it."

Turned out they were watching The Bourne Identity. Kit didn't have any complaints but she also couldn't concentrate. On top of the need for something more substantial than popcorn, she wondered about her future. As the credits rolled she reasoned that she couldn't really run away to live in the sewers with a bunch of mutant turtles and expect her problems to go away. Would be nice, but her life had made her a realist.

She still intended to ruin Savvy and her father. For now she decided to focus on that.

###

Max rounded the corner so fast Dragon Face had no choice but to chase after him. Around the bend they found a woman on her knees who was coughing in that way people do to clear their airways and a man who held a belt designed with eyelets over her head. The man shivered with satisfaction and slipped the belt back through the loops on his waistband. The woman's neck was bruised. It was obvious what had happened. Max was bold and drunk and a Purple Dragon. He made trouble. Dragon Face didn't want trouble.

"What's the big idea?" Max stepped in front of the woman and spun his chain. "Can't get off unless you're rough with the girl?"

The man arched an eyebrow at Max. Incredulous. There something smug about the man's expression and the way he buckled the belt that put Dragon Face immediately on edge. This wasn't someone they should be messing with. Yeah, there was that old adage that Purple Dragons shouldn't be afraid of no one, but Dragon Face knew in his gut that didn't apply here. Plus they weren't on their own turf. That counted for a lot.

"What?" Max was either oblivious to the danger signals the man sent his way or else didn't care. "Don't got nothing to say for yourself?"

"I don't see what the big deal is." The man had an accent Dragon Face couldn't place. Not from New York.

"Whaddya mean you don't—"

The man pulled a crumple of bills out of his pockets and tossed them to the ground. At Max's feet the woman scrambled to collect all the bills and count them. "I'm finished with her. You can have your turn."

"That ain't the point." Max clenched a fist.

"Then what's your point?"

"Like you haven't figured it out."

Dragon Face saw the exact moment Max made up his mind to start an actual physical fight with this man. And for once Dragon Face didn't feel the compulsion toward confrontation. What did Max hope to accomplish? They were supposed to be finding a new place to crash, not be taking hints from all the vigilante rejects they'd run into over the years. But a fight wasn't the type of thing you could stop once it started. Not until it was over. As Dragon Face reached for Max's shoulder and hoped to convince this man his friend was just a rowdy drunk, Max dipped low so his shoulder fell out of Dragon Face's reach. So much for that.

Max spun his chain and launched it at the man's throat.

Soon as it began the fight was already over. Before the chain could land a hit the man caught it and gave a quick twist, winding it around his arm for better leverage, then yanked. The momentum made Max stumble forward and flop right onto his belly. Wound up with his face planted in concrete and the man's boot stomped into his back.

"You're in the wrong part of town to be playing hero," said the man.

Max squirmed. His nose bled. Looked crooked. Might be broken.

"What do you even get out of harassing me?"

"He's drunk." Dragon Face stepped over the woman. She snatched her money ran away.

"Now look what you did." The man pointed past Dragon Face at where the woman had run. She was nowhere to be found. The definition of gone. "She's gone and scurried away. Doesn't work out too well if you scare them off. Now you'll have to find another."

"Let him up," said Dragon Face.

"But I'm not done with him."

"You shouldn't hold it against him." Dragon Face shrugged and tried for nonchalance even though his whole body was tense. After losing everything else he couldn't lose Max too, and it looked like this man was contemplating doing away with him. "Can't hold his booze. Just let him up and we'll be outta your business."

The man glanced down. Something in the twist of his mouth reminded Dragon Face of Basilisk. He didn't take his foot off Max. Dragon Face waited. Inched closer. His heart thundered and his head filled with the noise of rushing blood. This was getting to the point where he might up and tackle the guy. Only reason Dragon Face hesitated was because of how easily from the get-go this man had handled Max. And handled was the right word. This man hadn't just defended. He'd detained.

"She was good." The man shuddered again in pleasure. "Really good. Mmm! Love how she struggled. Great vocals too. She put me in a fantastic mood. So how about this then? I'll let your drunken friend slide if you two do me a favor."

"No deal."

The man scoffed. Dragon Face couldn't tell if he were amused or offended. Maybe a mixture of both.

"Get off him."

"Make me."

Max dug his fingers into the sidewalk's cracks. He shifted position. Still on his belly but at a better angle now, one of his legs was tucked up and his torso torqued for better weight distribution. In response to Max's tiny maneuver the man dropped from having one heel dug into Max's back to a kneel across Max's spine that the man must've sunk all his weight into because Max went from shifting around in defiance to red in the face. Max gasped for air.

Enough.

Dragon Face tackled the man. He didn't know how it happened but he wound up knotted in Max's chain. The man stood over both of them clicking his tongue. This was it. They were gonna get murdered. First night away from the Dragons and they were already goners. What was worse was it wouldn't be by the hand of anyone who put a mark on them. Similar as they seemed, Dragon Face was sure this man wasn't one of Basilisk's.

The man's pocket vibrated.

Pause. The chains tightened. Max tried to swallow but gagged. Dragon Face didn't fare much better.

The man pulled a flip-phone from his pocket and answered.

Out of the corner of his eye Dragon Face saw Max's eyes widen. What? He recognized something? Maybe he was sobering up. About time. Meanwhile the man casually sat on the both of them in a way that was frustratingly inescapable as he took his call.

"You're interrupting my celebration, Gunther. Have some respect for tradition."

Muffled words from the other end of the line. Dragon Face strained to hear but couldn't make out any of them. Of course it didn't help that he was literally tied up with Max. But despite their predicament there were a few things Dragon Face did overhear. The voice through the phone mentioned secondary location, an address near the docks, and Phase Three.

"I'm aware." The man's tone turned agitated. "I got held up. Don't compare me to your daughter." The man got off Max and Dragon Face and left. Just like that. His voice receded into the night.

Dragon Face untwisted himself and Max from the chain. "The hell was that about?"

"What?"

"Rushing in like some kinda vigilante." And putting us both in jeopardy.

"Not like we got anything better to do."

"We're supposed to be finding a new pad. You said so yourself."

Max collected his chain and wound it back around his waist. He sniffed dismissively.

"You should know better than to stick your nose in other people's business." Dragon Face wiped himself down and straightened his clothes. A bit of gravel stuck to his arm. He brushed it away with more force than necessary. "Hasn't life with the Purple Dragons taught you anything?"

"Aw, c'mon. You saw her neck. He was gonna kill her."

"He was gonna kill us."

"Not like we don't deserve it."

"What?" Dragon Face had no idea where that sentiment came from.

"It's something that turtle guy said. How we ain't honorable. I been thinking. What if he's right? Those green guys always seem to have friends come and help them. Maybe they know something we don't. Maybe we been on the wrong track our whole lives."

"You're talking nonsense."

"Am I?" Max threw out his arms and raised his voice. The broken nose forced a nasally edge into his words. "Look around! We ain't got nothing! Even our family kicked us out!"

"You're the one who said we got us."

"Yeah well," said Max. "I wonder if we even have that anymore."

A swathe of black over the moon punctuated his words. Wind scratched at Dragon Face's open skin. The bit of gravel had left a mark. A faraway streetlamp flickered and died. If Max turned his back on him too Dragon Face didn't know what he'd do. If Max didn't want him around he had nothing. They had to stick together. They were the only true Purple Dragons left.

Max heaved a sigh and sat right on the sidewalk, head in his hands. "I didn't mean all that. I'm drunk. But I still meant some of it."

"Any bright ideas?" Dragon Face crouched then sat as well.

"There was something weird about that guy."

"Huh?"

"I mean besides what he had to do to get it up."

While Dragon Face waited for an explanation Max produced a phone from his pocket. A burner, same make and model as the man's. Dragon Face took the phone and flipped it open. One number was programmed in. No other contacts.

"Jane gave me that," said Max. "Maybe we still got an ally."