Divided
"You think I WHAT?!"
Raphael's shout traveled up several octaves, threatening to wake the whole household. But he couldn't control his overwhelming outrage at Leonardo's accusation.
"You heard me," Leonardo snarled, while scarcely contained fury flashed in his eyes. "I saw everything. So don't bother denying it."
"I don't know what you saw!" Raphael growled, "But if you think I would rape anybody you're delusional!"
"You, Raph! I saw you! You strong-armed a woman against the wall. You pinned her down so she couldn't escape!" Leonardo stalked forward, baring his teeth until the brothers were nose to nose. "You exposed yourself and FORCED yourself on her, into her!" he hissed.
"That's the definition of ra—"
Raphael's fist swung of its own accord, but Leo expected something of the sort. He dodged the blow aimed at his jaw and grabbed Raph's wrist. He twisted, throwing Raphael to the side. Raph rolled out of the fall and regained his feet. He lowered his shoulder and charged Leo like an enraged bull, striking him at waist level and knocking them to the floor.
"That was Silvy!" Raphael shouted as they tumbled, "An' yeah, I fucked her!"
He evaded Leo's fist and answered with one of his own before they separated. Raph kicked himself upright and Leonardo did a handspring. Both glared at each other from a few feet away.
"Or at least I tried to before my own BROTHER cock-blocked me."
Leonardo leapt to the attack. Raphael blocked and ducked a flurry of blows coming at his face, fast and sharp.
"Seriously, bro!" Raphael grunted in-between motions, "Where is this comin' from? This was totally consensual. Silvy and I have hooked up for years."
"I DON'T believe you!" Leo spat through gritted teeth.
"Why not? You're supposed ta be the walkin' lie detector of the family! Listen to the words coming out of my mouth—I did not attack Silvy!"
"You've been trained in deception, Raph. And there is no way you hid a significant relationship for years!" A note of uncertainty wavered in Leonardo's voice, and a hint of something else lurked under the anger.
Envy?
Normally, Raphael would have jumped all over Leo for admitting a failing—He can't tell if I'm lying?—but Raph was distracted by the 'R' word. Not rape this time but relationship.
Leo thinks I got a girl? Is he dumb or blinded by jealousy?
Raphael let out a startled laugh and tried to correct his brother's assumption using words this time instead of fists.
"A relationship? You still believe any of us are gonna find that? Yer damn right there's no relationship."
Somehow, his rebuttal made the situation worse.
"So you're confessing to rape," Leo snarled. His eyes narrowed to whites and he came at Raph full force. Not pulling his blows as they did when sparring. They bashed each other back and forth across the floor, neither letting the other have a break.
"Have you completely LOST IT, LEO? Ya' don't need a relationship to have sex."
Raphael missed a block and Leonardo's fist nailed him in the sensitive bridge area between his two shells. Raph hissed in pain which usually meant an end to such bouts, even when they were both pissed off. But Leo only followed up the shot with a roundhouse kick to his jaw—snapping Raph's head back.
Raphael stumbled backward into a sword rack and the whole thing crashed down to the floor with him.
Leo is really tryin' to kick my ass! What the hell?
"I never hurt Silvy!" Raph yelled in protest as he gingerly extracted himself from the pile of weaponry. Leo stalked across the room, preparing to attack once again. "I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy!"
"YAMETE!"
Splinter's hoarse shout froze the circling brothers in place. His walking stick hit the ground with a piercing thud, adding finality to the command. They had been so absorbed neither had noticed their father enter the room.
"You will stop this at once! You are no longer children to vent your anger by fighting. You are BOTH masters and adults."
The two warily eyed each other but couldn't disrespect a direct order from their sensei. They stayed separate, shaking out sore muscles and restricting their expressions of anger to dark glares.
"Good," Splinter said without agitation as if he hadn't been shouting seconds ago. "Now, what is going on?"
Neither answered him.
"Fine. We shall go to my study and discuss the matter calmly and rationally." He led the way, leaning heavily on his cane, slumping under the weight of his years.
They followed immediately. After such a huge fight, there was no getting out of an explanation. Leonardo, per usual, launched into one the moment Splinter closed the door.
Raphael knew better than to interrupt his account. This was not an ordinary mediation in his father's chambers. Leonardo had invoked the council with his choice of weapon this morning and he made sure to tell Splinter.
Now they must abide by the rules. Each brother would get one chance to speak without interruption, then the council would issue a ruling on the so-called 'crime'. Never mind that the Hamato clan council only consisted of the War Leader and the Elder these days. And with Leo as one of the plaintiffs, he lost his vote. So whatever their father decided in this argument would stand. Such was tradition.
Raphael wondered why Leo bothered.
If Splinter's opinion was all he wanted, he didn't need to mess with all this clan crap. We all listen to father anyway! Mostly... At least about the important stuff.
Except, Leo didn't clearly lay out what he thought happened. He danced verbally around the topic with delicacy and all the facial expressions of a turtle who considered himself excruciatingly betrayed.
What the hell is going on? Is he delusional?
Splinter allowed this to go on for a few minutes but when Leo showed no sign of his usual clear candor, the old rat sighed. His mild disappointment was enough to stop Leonardo mid-word.
"My son, this vague innuendo does not match the intensity of your conflict. While your reticence to discuss the issue implies a certain desire to protect my emotions as your father on a subject you deem... sensitive; I cannot make an official ruling based on nebulous language."
Leonardo closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths. When he opened them all traces of sentiment were gone. Nothing remained. No emotions. No attachments. No color in his iris.
"Very well. I shall be blunt," Leonardo said. "While out on the rooftops this evening I witnessed my brother, Raphael, pin a human woman to a wall in an alley and rape her. I am sorry father. Raphael has betrayed us as a family and a clan. He has abandoned all honor."
This cold and ruthless side of Leonardo, the one where nothing lived but hardened steel, was rarely seen. A holdover from his time 'away' in South America. Leo encountered more than a few grim situations down there. Alone, with no one to lighten the burden, he beheld horrendous, unscrupulous things. Things that changed him, molding him into a dangerous unfeeling weapon.
It was not at all the training their father had intended.
Leo had worked hard the last 11 years to confront those unforgiving parts of his personality and excise them. But, in reality, the tendencies were simply buried. Whenever the family was endangered, Leonardo fell victim to his instincts and they reemerged.
Each word Leo spoke landed on Raphael like a blow, making him flinch. Being dispassionately called a dishonorable criminal hurt far more than Leo's actual fists pummeling him in the dojo. Those crystal clear eyes meant his brother honestly believed everything he said.
He actually thinks I'm capable of something so- so... disgusting and cruel. Does he not know me at all?
Splinter heard Leonardo out, his expression growing graver with each accusation. But when he turned to Raphael, their father resumed a neutral mask.
Raph tried to be as straightforward in his side of the story. But he did gloss over descriptions of the sexual acts themselves. In no uncertain terms, he told them Silvy was a prostitute. He forced himself to describe the sequence of events as logically as possible, while staring directly at the top of his father's favorite tea table.
He reached the end of his narrative quickly, but he felt compelled to continue. He gave details about how he met Silvy. The number of times they'd been together. How he and Casey were diligent in patrolling her particular neighborhood. How he was respected, though he stayed anonymous.
When Raphael finally ran out of things to say, he raised his head for judgment, eyes clouded with despair he could not express.
Splinter examined both brothers shrewdly before he spoke.
"Sex is divisive," he said after a long pause for thought. "Is it a necessity, or a pleasure? How can one tell? Sex exalts some and degrades others. It generates offspring, yet taboos surrounding it are as old as humanity."
This meeting had been a symphony of blunt language so far, but neither turtle expected their father to speak so... decisively on the subject of sex. Raphael flinched at his master's words and even Leo's clear eyes widened.
"Prostitution is frowned upon in the west," Splinter continued, "but sex is the oldest profession. I do not condemn those who perform it, nor should you. If there was not a need, the practice would not continue."
He faced Leonardo, "Rape is another matter. It is not about sex, but power. It is an attack on a person's intimate core, their identity. Denying them the right to choose is the ultimate form of control—rendering the victim less than human, less than animal. Rape is a manifestation of evil I wished none of my children would ever see. But we live in a world where I could not protect your innocence."
"Here is my judgment. Raphael is innocent of rape." He held up a paw stopping Leo's instant objection. "I am not discounting what you saw, Leonardo. But the truth is written in your brother's aura. This type of corruption leaves an undeniable stain, impossible to cleanse with years of atonement. Thankfully, Raphael's aura does not bear this mark. Remember your training and look for yourself. Seek past the simple grey shadows of truth or lie. Find the heart beneath."
Leo gazed solemnly at Raph for a long while and his crystal hard eyes softened. He bowed his head and when he looked up again his pupils had regained their light steely blue color. This time the overriding emotion in them was guilt.
"I'm sorry, Raph." Leo said.
Yeah. Sure you are.
Raph grunted and looked away. It was going to take a lot more than "i'm sorry" to fix this.
"Raphael," Splinter called, regaining his attention. "You may continue your activities, as long as you take adequate precautions and do not put yourself or your family at further risk."
This made Leonardo object again, "But father—"
"Am I pleased my son is frequenting an asobi-onna?" Splinter interrupted, "I cannot say I am. However, Raphael's physical needs have always been a balancing factor for his emotions. Over the years he has learned methods for stability and I will not second guess them."
Both turtles stared at Splinter with their mouths hanging open.
"Raphael, you may go," Splinter said, dismissing him. "Leonardo, please stay. There is something further I wish to address..."
Raph fled like his tail was on fire.
Darkness and wind howled around Michelangelo and he shot a glare at the sky.
An eye-full of bitter sleet made him snort and scrub at his face with his arm, but it didn't slow his pace in the slightest. Ordinarily, the playful orange-banded turtle enjoyed the snow. Tonight, his mouth was set in a grim line as he pelted through near whiteout conditions in a race across the rooftops.
I'm so not supposed to be out here.
Donatello had warned everyone against leaving the lair tonight—twice. A terrible blizzard raged throughout the city. One forecast to continue for days, until well after Christmas. But Mikey would not survive ten days or more confined with his brothers without some sort of new distraction.
Mount Raph and Mount Leo already erupted once today...
About what, Michelangelo didn't precisely know. Raphael had charged in full of wrath at six A.M. And, while there wasn't exactly anything new about that, Leonardo's shouting had roused everyone.
Something about silver? Ivy? Whatever it was, the fallout was massive!
This was their worst fight in a long, long time. Almost as bad as the one when Leo first got back from South America.
At least they fought at home this time. And no one got kidnapped...
The resulting physical altercation still went on far too long before their father stepped in. And when Mikey and Don went to clean up, the training area reeked of sexual pheromones.
I guess two alpha males in close quarters is an explosion waiting to happen.
The day didn't get any better, though it was quieter. Raphael retreated to the gym for weight-lifting, then barricaded himself in his room to sulk for the rest of the day. Leonardo remained closeted with Splinter until midafternoon before disappearing to meditate.
Donatello shot Mikey several sympathetic glances as their paths crossed, but he didn't linger in the younger one's company. Not even at lunchtime. Don had too much work on his plate.
So Mikey spent the day alone.
What a horrible state for the family to be in over the holidays.
He pouted for a while and wracked his brains for a solution, until, like a Christmas miracle, a guy online messaged him about a pre-release version of the latest 'Star-Crusher' game he was willing to part with.
This was it! A diversion for everyone. Armada mode required enough strategy to hold Leonardo's attention, Don would go ga-ga over the realistic space physics, and Raphael liked anything where he got to blow things up.
The game was virtually guaranteed to keep them content—and more importantly, working together—for at least 120 hours.
It'll be an excellent last-minute present! Just the thing for four cooped-up turtles!
All Mikey needed to do was sneak out and trade two rare games into a lockbox on a rooftop near 115th street. That part was easy. Star-crusher XV: Aliens vs. Asteroids was right where the dude promised, hidden in plain sight.
Unfortunately a few other things or, er, people? Were too.
Foot Soldiers.
Running into them had to be an accident. I never thought about that game until today...
Regardless, the ambush didn't stand a chance. Michelangelo's spinning nunchucks formed white whirlwinds of snow as they collided with vulnerable arms, wrists, and fingers. The inevitable crunch of breaking bone filled him with confidence and he danced away with a smart remark—thinking the worst was over.
Little did I know.
The second wave of attackers came hard on the first and Michelangelo began to tire. Moving as fast as he needed to in the cold was difficult. And being alone meant more energy and time to clear the field of enemies.
Although you'd think I'd be used to being abandoned by now.
As soon as the last man fell, Mikey took to his heels again, doing his best to gain enough distance to get out of sight. But a third wave flooded into his path.
Michelangelo changed his tactics. He started dropping the Foot where they stood rather than disorienting or disarming them. Most of these goons would take weeks if not months to recover. Some may never walk right again, much less wield weapons against the Hamato family.
A twinge of conscience warped Michelangelo's expression into an uncharacteristic frown, but...
I'm not making them do this.
This time when his last opponent dropped he slinked low; slipping from cover to shadowy hiding spot with the grace of a feline even with the hindrance of his bulkier winter gear.
A few feet from his place in the shadows, a dozen more dark bodies pelted past—booking it to catch up to the turtle they thought was running up ahead.
Jeez' what is this? A parade?
A sliver of fear, colder than the wind, slithered down Michelangelo's spine for the first time. Something was wrong with this whole situation. Very wrong.
Why are they all out here in this storm?
Mikey holstered his chucks through a slit in his coat with a practiced flip and yanked out his shell cell—shielding the screen so the glow wouldn't give away his location. Raph would be pissed and Leo annoyed they had to work together so soon after their little brawl, but...
It's time for some brotherly backup.
He was about to hit send when a black-clad form materialized beside him. Michelangelo yelped as the ninja twisted his wrist. The phone dropped from his grip and a follow-up kick from the Foot Soldier punted it right out of the air. Electronic bits exploded against the wall, scattering across a snowbank.
"Aw, man! Did'ya have ta do that? Don—is—gonna—kill—me."
Mikey punctuated each whispered complaint with a punch. His fists struck ear, throat, and chest in quick succession.
Incapacitate. Silence. Create space.
His foot shot out and dislocated the enemy's knee then collapsed his ankle.
Imbalance. An-n-n-d he's down!
The would-be assailant toppled like a rag-doll and Mikey scrambled to pick the plastic and metal shards of his shell cell out of the snow. His hopes for assistance faded. The phone was trashed. He wouldn't be able to repair it to call for help. Actually, the genius himself might not be able to reassemble it now.
How many has Donnie fixed for me over the years? And how many times have I cringed and swore I'll take better care of the next one?
He squinted at the sticker on the largest piece in his hand—the remains of the keyboard. Donatello put a version number on the front as a sarcastic reminder to be more careful. This one read 'twelve' in glittery golden letters.
Michelangelo laughed bitterly under his breath as he shoved the bits into his belt pouch. He destroyed at least one per year, sometimes two. The sick gnawing in the pit of his stomach doubled. This particular phone had been a gift for his birthday a few months back. Don had slaved over it—making sure it had everything.
Dejected, Mikey poked once more through the drift in search of the tinier parts. But, despite the warmth of his oversized down coat and gloves, his fingers were freezing and his leg muscles began to cramp.
Standing still in this weather is a no-no, especially if you're partially cold-blooded.
With a last forlorn glance, he gave up the search and jolted back into a crouching run. This area was much farther uptown than he regularly ventured. And there were seventy-five blocks between him and the nearest manhole with access to tunnels leading home.
Several buildings over Michelangelo paused, gazing with envy at the darkened streets far below. There was more cover down there but ground-level was off-limits until he found a narrow alley with a sturdy downspout or fire escape to aid his descent. He dared not make such a jump when stiff from exposure.
While he hesitated—searching for an unobtrusive route through unfamiliar territory—enemies poured out of the surrounding edifices. Mikey spotted them almost too late. He barely dodged a cluster of flung kunai.
The sharp bladed knives shredded his overcoat as he dove out of the way. Fluttering strands of olive green cloth marked his retreat and a cascade of feathers blended with the snowflakes as he launched into a panting run.
Now... at exactly... what point... did I lose... control, here?*
Like the coat, his whole world was coming apart at the seams.
Frantically, he ripped the rest of the blasted thing off, but the sleeves caught on his gloves and they went flying too. Now he had no practical protection from the cold.
Damn it!
His stomach clenched but Mikey pushed the terror away. All wasn't lost yet. Since plotting a strategic course was no longer an option, Michelangelo ran in a straight line—trusting his inhuman speed to save him from the masses of silent bodies ghosting along in his wake.
*Even though this story is set years later in the TMNT (2007) Movie-verse this line is borrowed with love from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990) scene with Shredder. Keep your eyes peeled! You might spot a few more "turtle" eggs along the way.