A/N: Sorry for the delay. I have been busy with another story. I hope you can forgive me.

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters relating to Turtles. I only own Trek, Natalia, Lyle, Tyra, Slick and any other OCs that make an appearance.

A heavy fog rolled in through the streets of Speedway, casting the city in an eerie, horror movie atmosphere. The only people out were the police officers, the vigilant "defenders" hired by Agent John Bishop. In truth they were no better than Bishop himself. Whereas the main land police fought to protect people, Bishop's cops wanted nothing more than to throw every single racer on the island into the Waste Lands Chamber. But, all that was going to change, tonight.

Posted at the corner of each major intersection was the infamous cars of the brothers. And in the less busy, but still patrolled streets were Trek, Lyle, Natalia and Casey. O'Connell had gifted them with their very own Speedway cars. And thanks to the clever engineering of Donatello, all the paint jobs resembled that of the police cars. Each car was given a specific number of cop cars to take out. By Donatello's calculations, they didn't have to take out every one. They just had to take out so many for the racers to take back control. There were more racers than cops, and every racing car had gone through Donatello's garage. They could out run anything.

The dark compartment of the tiger Elise lit up when the computer screen flickered to life. One of the assigned cop cars was approaching. The driver chuckled in anticipation and started his car. He kept the lights off as the target car drove by.

"Show time."

He slammed on the gas and shot out of hiding. The surface of the car rippled and the tiger sprang to life. The driver shot past the cop car.

"Catch me if you can!" he yelled through the open window.

The red and blue lights lit up and sirens blared. A different screen popped up on the computer screen in the Elise.

"Michelangelo Hall! Pull over this instant!" the driver of the police cruiser ordered.

"Yea-no," Michelangelo answered. "Later."

He picked up the pace.

"Hall!"

Michelangelo led them through the city. He turned into an alley and pressed on the horn once. When the police turned into the alley, Michelangelo triggered a trap. All the officers saw was the high beams from the Elise, then total darkness.

"One down, nine to go," Michelangelo said as he tied up the two unconscious officers.

Raphael was just finishing tying up the last of the target officers when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out, looked at the number and answered.

"Yeah?"

"Bishop is going to kill you, you do know that, right?"

"And hello to you, too, Tyra," Raphael said.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tyra demanded.

Raphael knocked one of the officers unconscious. "I think I'm returning the city back to the way it was before Bishop let loose his army of officers," he replied.

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Tyra said.

"You don't mean that," Raphael accused. "You're under strict orders from Bishop to keep an eye on me. That's the only reason why he agreed to our so called 'relationship'."

Tyra clenched her hand into a fist. "You were the best of the best, Raphael. You're throwing everything away, and for what? A past that can never be recovered?"

Raphael looked down at his right arm. The seal was unbreakable, he would always live with the memory of betraying his own family. He tightened his hand into a fist.

"The past may never be recovered, Tyra, but that doesn't mean the present and future has to be just as messed up," he said.

There was silence on the other line for a few moments before Tyra spoke.

"You're a fool."

The line went dead. Raphael slapped the phone shut and shoved it into his pocket.

"Good riddance," he muttered.

He closed the cell door and walked back to his car. On the way, he checked his watch. The others would be finishing up by now. As soon as the time hit two o'clock in the morning, Raphael's cell phone rang again. All he had to do was answer it. He already knew who it was.

"Phase two," Donatello announced.

The first thing Slick noticed was the lack of patrol cars. Granted, there were still a few cruisers around, but not as much as there used to be. Even though there were less police patrolling the city, no one dared to begin racing again. There was such a thing as traps. They could be hiding anywhere, waiting for someone to make the mistake of breaking the rules. Slick pulled into the parking lot of Donatello's garage. He got out, locked the door and headed inside. Donatello was almost invisible behind the hood of a large truck.

"Yo, Don-boy," Slick called.

Donatello's mess of light brown hair was the first thing to surface from the innards of the truck. He usually kept it neatly combed, however, now it looked like he hadn't combed it in days. His light brown eyes looked out from behind the veil he had for bangs.

"What can I do for you?" O'Connell asked.

"What have you guys been up to?" Slick inquired.

Donatello picked up a rag and wiped the oil off his hands. "What do you mean?"

"Playing dumb doesn't suit ya, Genius," Slick put in. "What happened to the cops?"

Donatello walked over to the door and locked it. He switched the sign to "closed" and pulled Slick into the back room.

"We're taking Speedway back," Donatello announced.

"Are you insane?" Slick hissed. "Do you know what Bishop will do to you if he finds out?"

"The key word being 'if'," Donatello noted. "I've done the math, Slick, trust me. We all have."

Slick clenched his hair and pulled. "You're all idiots," he said. "No way are you walking away from this one."

"So, you won't help us?" Donatello asked.

Slick's arms fell down at his sides. "I didn't say anything about not helping," he pointed out. "What do you want me to do?"

The sun shone brightly over the city. Once again, the beach was full of people. However, there were a few people still driving around. It seemed that the city was taunting the drivers with red lights. One boyfriend/girlfriend couple was getting frustrated.

"I hate red lights," the male driver said.

"So do I. And I'm not even driving," his girlfriend put in.

Just then, a jet black, lightning bolt painted Audi pulled up beside them. The driver revved the engine.

"What is he doing?" the girl asked.

The boy's face brightened into a smile. He also revved his car's engine. His girlfriend looked at him.

"You can't be serious," she said.

The light turned green and both cars shot forward. Slick felt the adrenaline shoot through his veins as he raced through the city. The driver of the other car wasn't bad.

"Where are the cops?" the girl asked.

"I don't know and I don't care," the boy replied as he pressed on the gas.

Slick chuckled and picked up the pace. It felt great to be racing again. They shot past the Watch Tower, alerting Bishop to what was happening. Bishop turned on the PA system.

"Tyra!" he yelled.

Seconds later, Tyra walked into the office.

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"You were supposed to be keeping a close watch on Raphael," Bishop said.

"I was, sir," Tyra answered.

Bishop pressed a button and the monitor switched to a race between Raphael and one of his former students. Tyra swallowed hard. Bishop turned to face her.

"What has happened to my police force?" he demanded.

Tyra racked her brain for any lie that sounded believable. Finally, she just settled for a, "I don't know."

Bishop's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Find them," he ordered. "And when you do, tell them to hunt Raphael and his crew down. I do not care what happens to Bradley and his son's friends, but I want Raphael, Donatello, Leonardo and Michelangelo thrown in the Chamber."

"Understood, sir," Tyra replied.

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