Author's Notes: Love you, Big Six!
Feather, I forgot to say that I'm so GLAD you're a fan of Hugh. And his sass. And I agree, there should be more Hugh 'n Mikey team-ups. ;)
Duckie, you know Amanda's your favorite. ROFL
D'Fuentes, you're welcome. The whole point of my series is to try new things or put a spin on old ones. I read one fanfic years ago that involved a cyborg love interest, and it sparked Mel-mainly because I was confused on how the character could be a cyborg one chapter and never seen as one after her rescue. I thought "They could live with one. What's wrong with that?" Because, face it, your don't go back from being a cyborg. XD
Raven, we all want Leo home. :(
Warning: Screams ahead...
Disclaimer: TMNT belongs to Nick/Eastman/Laird. Nia Anders, Hugh Reese, Melody Gray, and any other Original Characters you notice belong to me. I'm in no way making any money. Thanks.


Chapter 28 - Operation: Save Leo

Hugh loathed enduring Gavin's voice—that callous, condescending tone. It was always worse in stressful situations and, well, there hadn't been any other kinds of situations recently. The detective sighed silently, pacing in his clean living room while Marina watched Channel Six News from the couch.

"You think that's going to help?" Hugh asked, soft so his wife didn't sense stress.

"I can take care of my family, Reese," Gavin countered.

"Hey, I want you all safe. That's why I called. Raphael couldn't get a hold of you, though you were apparently in the hospital room the whole time."

"No one here wants to see"—the redhead paused like he needed to choose another word—"him. Hospitals are a sanctuary. Even if the EPF arrives with the police, there's only so much ground they can cover. Nia and I can hide here."

"And if they find Mia?"

"Chances are remote. Bishop can't fine-comb this city personally and I highly doubt his men know her face or the fact her name's been changed. Besides, she and I were released unharmed. We aren't the ones who have to worry…"

"Still"—Hugh frowned as he stopped at a sliding window that overlooked his sun-lit neighborhood and an unsavory billboard about the EPF—"you should consider getting Nia out of the city. When she's stressed—"

There was a brusque scoff over the phone line. "I'll handle things, Reese! My wife can't be moved and I won't leave her."

"But a hospital coupled with Nia's current…state?"

"She's controlled."

"No offence, Anders, but you once thought Nia was controlled. Then she shutdown a great part of Manhattan!"

Gavin didn't retort. He growled, probably with a sneer, and ended the call suddenly. Hugh brought the phone from his ear, glaring at the alias name on its flat screen. It was replaced by a second notice over it—a missed call from Jezebel. A slight shake in his long limbs blurred the graphics, so the detective tore his eyes from it before he stuffed it into his slacks' pocket with a frustrated groan.

"Are you going to explain what's going on or not?" Marina questioned, casual from the long couch.

Hugh wasn't fooled by the tone; he knew his wife was livid. He crossed the room and joined her, elbows on his bony knees as he faced the television. May Fields stood with a hand-held microphone in a familiar place that chilled the man's insides. And he froze while she pointed at a cluster of EPF and New York police behind taped off areas.

"As you can see," May reported, "Bishop's EPF has been working with city police since late last night to investigate every area the rampaging woman affected—from Midtown to West Village. Cell phone footage from local residents shows unbelievable feats of super strength and, what the EPF confirm as, a plasma weapon. People are questioning if this captured woman—Amanda Hall—is, in fact, this year's Hallows Eve Demon. However—"

The television shut off, courtesy of Hugh and his angry thumb. He felt his teeth grit when the remote dropped onto the glass coffee table, yet it eased once Marina's soft hand found his.

"That was you, wasn't it?" the tanned woman inquired with pressed, dark lips. "You're the one who led her towards the industrial area."

Hugh opened his mouth to deny. The attempt proved useless.

"Don't lie, Hugh! I'm too tired for lies."

Sucking in shallow breath, the man paused then nodded, grim.

"Damn, Hugh. Why do you—?" The grip tightened on Hugh's hand as the wife's voice wavered. "That's why you got home so late. And why you're covered in those bruises."

"Someone had to help."

"Then why didn't you stay for backup?"

"That"—the husband cringed then sent a fake smile—"is difficult."

"Everything with you is difficult. When is something finally going to be simple?"

"Would you have married me if I were simple?"

"Some days, I wonder why I married you at all…"

No, she didn't mean that as a joke. And it sunk Hugh's teasing grin.

"Seriously, Hugh," she said in a voice low with exhaustion. "There are days where I feel like a stranger is holding me. You used to share everything, but not anymore. You've taken so much on your shoulders, and you—you won't let me carry it with you because you value your secrets more."

"No." The man found his way to the carpet in moments, his hands gripping tightly to his wife's clenched fingers in her lap. Her glossy brown eyes regarded him coldly from above, yet he met them with no fear, only pity. "Believe me, Rina. I want to share it all with you. Every bit. But I—I can't."

"Of course not." Marina turned away and tried to remove her hands.

Hugh gripped them tighter, though. "I would love to scream around the apartment and tell you, Blaine, and Jennifer, even Megan, everything I know. I'd love for us to be on the same page. But that's not possible…not yet."

She side-glanced from her defiant position at the end of his sentence —his small trace of hope.

"They're growing into exceptional friends of mine, Rina, and I would love for you to meet them. When the time is right."

"And when will the time be right?" the tan beauty questioned like a queen on her throne.

Hugh met her glare with a genuine smile. "Only they can say. But for now, they need my help. Yours, too."

"Mine?"

"Bishop's been encroaching on this city. And it's put my friends in danger. They need a place to go, just for a little bit."

His eyes bore into her. At first, she sat rigid, confused, but after a moment of silence, the dark-skin man registered a glint of realization behind her heated gaze.

"My parents' cottage outside the city?"

Hugh nodded.

"You expect me to just hand the key over?"

Drawing Marina's tensed arms towards his beating chest, the husband leaned into his wife so their eyes were level. A snarl indicated she hated the proximity, yet he held fast against her struggle, saying,

"It's temporary. Your parents will never know they were there. They need a close place outside Bishop's new jurisdiction granted by the stupid Commissioner. If they don't…if they're found…if…"

How could he explain without giving anything away? He found his lips were looser under Marina's wounded gaze and felt he could slip at any time.

"This is life or death for them, isn't it?" Clever—just like Marina. She spoke her words with certainty; though Hugh's uncontrolled expression no doubt cemented her deduction.

He steeled his voice and said, "Yes. For them and everything they love. Please."

"I guess…I can't risk someone's life, no matter how mad I am at you."

She was still mad? Well, guess that was to be expected. Hugh smiled in thanks anyway before landing a tender kiss on the woman's wrinkled forehead. She huffed lightly in response, but didn't reciprocate. So when their eyes connected as he pulled away, he immediately leaned back in. The couple's lips hardly touched, though, when a repetitive bang against the front door drew Hugh to his feet.

"They're going to wake up Megan and her parents," Marina snapped in concern.

"I got it, Rina," said Hugh softly.

He passed through the living room's wide archway into the contemporary -style kitchen. There, a bamboo staircase created the east wall and lead to two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second story. He twisted left at it then followed a narrow hall that the stairs ended at as more bangs sounded. They grew more urgent before he reached the three-paned front door and when he swung it open in annoyance, words caught in his throat.

Standing on the stoop, Jezebel Summers pulled her leather coat tighter while fidgeting in the snow. "Hey," she greeted in a tone unlike the norm.

"Jez." He sounded breathless. "I was wondering when we'd get to speak. What's going on?"

Her tired, green eyes blinked at Hugh's confused expression then she croaked, "I need to speak with you…about Miriam."


The Black Lotus Organization—pioneers of genetic research and biotechnology. Their slogan? "We bloom in the darkness then rise as an unexpected beauty." In hindsight, could it of been more obvious? Of course, the company was smart enough to order a hit on themselves, to avoid suspicion. But Raphael knew the truth now. So he, his brothers, and their friend Angel stood like soldiers on the snowy ledge of an office building opposing the company's New York headquarters.

The looming skyscraper felt as ominous as the Foot Tower—with its high-arched windows and jagged, lifeless architecture against the cloudy night horizon. Maybe that was because Leonardo was a prisoner inside its walls. Well, Raph sought to fix that mistake tonight. At least there was one mistake he could tend to…

"Yeah, really; Operation Save Leo is a go!" Mikey said into Don's Shell Cell. He paused when Raph side-glanced his way then partly turned. "We'll call you as soon as we get Leo home. Promise. Oh? …A—are you sure? It could be…I know. Okay. We will. Alright, bye, Nia."

The call ended with a pit in the hothead's stomach. Part of him wanted to know about it, but when Mikey shrugged while placing the phone in his pocket, Raph determined he hadn't been asked about like momentarily thought.

"What's security look like, Donny?" he asked instead. With a sigh, he gripped the hilts of his twin sai and buried his mouth into his scarf.

The genius struck a few more keys on his minicomputer, saying, "Scans show they're quite substantial, but nothing we haven't conquered. The building's set to sense heat signatures on the outside, so if I radiate a jamming signal that blocks its sensor long enough for us to enter, that's one hurdle down."

"What about the inside?" Angel asked while scowling on Don's left.

"A few security feeds. Laser grids in select areas. Other stuff…I'll map the most efficient route from schematics."

"You always do, Don," Mikey remarked timidly from the line's end. He received nothing more than a glare from the purple-banded Chūnin.

"Oh, burn," said Angel with a coy smirk.

The youngest Hamato grimaced. "Come on, Donny. How long will you be mad at me?"

"Until my stuff's returned. There are things in there that…" Sighing, Donatello tapped his computer harshly. "You have no idea, Mikey."

"I just might," Mikey countered, now solemn.

Raphael glanced between the brothers at his sides. "Didn't Reese mention something about gettin' the stuff back from evidence?"

"He did," Don answered, matter-of-fact. "He said he has friends that could help, but it's a lot to ask. He could lose his job, land in prison. I don't…I'm upset he needs to go to such lengths in the first place."

"Sorry, but I was a little busy with a cyborg," the orange-banded mutant snapped. A guilty tinge tainted his words, though, like vinegar.

"Hey, let's be thankful it's in NYPD hands before the EPF," added Angel, kicking snow off the building's edge.

Don's head shook. "He still has a small window of opportunity."

"But one nonetheless, right?" The human smiled when the genius graced her with a look.

"Are ya done routin' yet, Donny?" Raphael interjected, loosening his coat so his moves weren't restricted.

"Yeah."

One simple word held the weight of the world. Raph met the eyes of those around him, steeled by determination. They nodded in turn and prepared themselves as well

"Don, ya should lead the way," said Raph as he rolled his shoulders.

Made sense if the turtle who planned the route led, right? The others must've thought similar because none of them protested. They waited for the genius's first move. Then, when he started to cross the street, they followed with the stealth of, well, ninja.

Raphael trusted Donatello had already sent the jamming signal, so when the group abandoned a bundle of telephone lines to grip the outer edge of a high story, he felt confident no alarms were tripped. Silent, the hothead glanced at his right, where Donatello produced shuko from his unzipped jacket. Raph did likewise—pulling shoku from his own jacket and keeping behind his purple-banded brother. He scaled the building's textured areas around the many windows before the group reached mid-way.

Don hung by a particularly wide window with his head pressed against it. From a pack on his belt, he handled a strange, circular object, which resembled a mini fire alarm. With one finger, he scrolled a dial on its side then placed it against the glass while pushing a button. Seven beeps sounded before Don placed the device back in his pouch and lifted the unlocked window.

"Number of perfection," Don said over his shoulder. He eased into the room without fear, leaving the others to follow suit.

Inside was a large office with minimal plant life and rich, leathery furniture that scented the air. It should've felt warm, being out of the weather, except its atmosphere held a heavy chill Raphael couldn't escape. His amber eyes wearily glanced around as he neared his brother at a modern computer desk.

"What's next, Donny?"

"Patience," the genius countered while typing away furiously.

"Leo's been waitin' eighteen days. Think that's patient enough."

"This is the CEO's office. You would think her security features would be located in a separate department, but, apparently, she doesn't trust anyone else. So if I can just find…the…settings….ha!" With a triumphant grin, Donatello met his group. "All security is now shut off. We need only watch for guards now. Or overnight employees."

"And how many of those are posted?"

The genius gave a sloppy shrug to Michelangelo. "I don't know; they weren't in the schematics."

"What about the security footage?" Angel asked.

"Looped," Don added. "And I set the security on a timer, so we only have a few minutes before it kicks back in."

"Then why are we still sittin' here?" Raph questioned with a snarl.

Don sent him a look. "We'll take the elevators to the basement floor. That's where the schematics are hazy."

"Then let's go!"

Raph didn't wait for Don to take the lead this time. Finding a couple of stupid elevators should be simple enough, and he stalked the halls outside the office in search of one. There was a close encounter with a guard on break, but the elevators beyond the over-weight human supposedly were restricted anyway. Said Don. So the group fell behind the genius after all, as he led them to a secluded corner with a single elevator.

Foreboding. But the Hamatos lived for foreboding. The group of four barely fit in the slim space before Mikey eagerly hit the basement button. Then, came the wait. Raph hated waiting. His boot tapped against the floor over and over until a soft ding rung out. The doors slid open all too slowly and the hothead burst from them in seconds, sais ready for combat.

Only, he found nothing to challenge him.

"Dude, it's like a giant warehouse," Mikey said. His voice echoed off the room of concrete that could house a small village and confirmed no one else was present.

The red-banded mutant kept his guard up out of instinct. However, the need for it grew less vindicated the further he traveled. The lifeless place resembled the floor of toddler—machines, crates, and other such toys littered everywhere without thought. The industrial lights from high above brought Raph to a cluster of crates stacked taller than him. They were labeled with a radiation warning that seemed out of place.

'Shouldn't a shipment like this be catalogued better? What kind 'a radioactive material comes from South America anyway?'

"Hey, this is the missing subatomic particle disruptor from KALTek!" Don said a ways off.

"And this giant, round thing has Erudio Laboratories' name on it—literally!" added Mikey from another direction.

"These are obviously the heisted materials from the Little Red Robberies," Angel said from somewhere closer.

"So we got the right guys!" Raph shouted in return. He couldn't keep panic from his tone, though—not while the ends of the basement looked so empty. "This means there's a door somewhere, right, Donny? There's another floor or—or passages, right?" Breathing grew difficult when the hothead stumbled for the closest wall, his trembling fingertips feeling for anything abnormal. "Tell me there's a door somewhere!"

"No"—Don's pained voice barely carried—"this is physically all they can build in such a spot. This is…it…"

Raph hands gripped the wall before he beat it with a frustrated growl. "If this is it then…where's Fearless?"


The room spun Leonardo's vision. Or, maybe his vision spun the room. It was so hard to tell. He couldn't recall how he wound up strapped to a gurney or table. Last he recalled, he stood in chaos within Hall F…

"My, you are a sensitive one, aren't you?" The voice sounded garbled as if underwater and it seemed to dance around the mutant's senses.

Leo's unfocused eyes left the white light above him to glance beside the table. There, clouded by the light's intense glare, a short man with wild facial hair touched the Jonin's arm, though the contact couldn't be felt.

"Not even ten milligrams and, wow." The man chuckled then paused, running an unfelt hand over the mutant's bicep. "Oh, I've been dying to study you ever since Squad Five brought you back. It was unfortunate Lombardo claimed you, but…now that she's been suspended, we'll have time together. Isn't that exciting?"

No. Then again, Leonardo couldn't remember what excitement felt like. There was only numbness.

"Doc—Master Stephens," a new voice interjected across the stark-white room. It was vaguely familiar. "Doctor Lombardo and I talked about this matter before Donald's revolt. Recro-12 needs more time in animal trials. The IgR—"

"Is unstable, incompatible—a tricky, tricky little alien bug that needs dissected."

"Right."

"And yet the two of you also agreed that younger cells are more receptive to it. And the beast's cells are hyper-sensitive compared to a human adult male, correct?"

There was a long pause before the second voice added, "Even so, performing this test on him and the girl could risk valuable resources."

"Experimental science is risk, Melody!" Stephens' whimsy fell victim to impatience, but only for a moment. "Don't fret; Recro-12 will suit them beautifully. Now, if you could insert and secure the gag sticks? We wouldn't want them to bite and swallow their tongues, would we?"

Them? Leonardo wasn't the only one? Lazily, his head lolled sideways as someone approached his table. Through the over-contrasted haze of semi-consciousness, he saw Kaiya strapped to a table beside him. Her blonde hair was drawn back, her pale body marked with deep purple spots from the riot. She shivered madly against the cold metal with intravenous lines protruding from her little arms.

Yet Leo found comfort in the sight because…she survived the crowd.

Something was forced into his mouth by metal fingers—a semi-soft material like a mouth guard. He paid it little mind, though, as his focus drew Kaiya's attention. She faced him just before the cyborg gagged her as well, tying the object at the back of her head before disappearing. Her golden eyes were as wide as they had been at Donald's death and they glistened with tears of pure fright.

Pain replaced numbness as her chapped lips trembled. She clearly wanted to speak through the gag, but lacked either energy or skill. Her hand twitched at her side instead. Short fingers reached for him at an awkward angle, straining desperately no matter how well she knew he couldn't be reached. He studied them with a heavy heart and when her pitiful sobs increased, his reached for her as well—their fingers mere inches from one another.

"Now"—Stephens' voice quickened Leonardo's pulse—"time for science!"


Author's Notes: Or, in my beta's words "TIME TO DIE, OLD MAN!" Right company, wrong place. And now Stephens takes the reins from Lombardo thanks to that dumbass Donald. *heads for bunker* Next, "Miriam", in which the answer to Hun's missing people and Stephens' influx of live subjects is explained. Also, a certain rat and cop finally meet. ;) Do I need to mention the reviews? LOL