Phoenix's mind warred with where to go. The dojo to see if Splinter was there? To help Denim? To the pharmacy where she'd been meeting with the scientists? One of the other places the television was showing the amateur footage from people's cellphones? None of them had shown Battle, but of course, they wouldn't. He would keep his nose clean-he had lackeys to do his dirty work. And the lackeys didn't even know they were doing it. At least real lackey's got paid. Where would he be that would keep his nose the cleanest?

His apartment, said the voice that was not her voice in her head, a soothing calm coming from it. Phoenix smiled as she sprinted into a full run toward the cafe where she and Battle had met for tea and he'd taken up to his lavish abode nearby. She felt a stab of guilt as she thought about it. She had been in tears, and he'd comforted her. She had allowed him to. She shook the memory away, making her legs pump even faster in an attempt to outrun the shame associated with it.

The streets were largely normal as she rushed through them, the back alleys that were empty were empty, the front streets that were bustling were bustling. There were so many people who were blissfully unaware of what was going on around them, at that very moment. That another Mutant War was about to break out. Just like the first one, it was isolated, pockets of hate and violence in an otherwise apathetic world. It was because of that apathy that those who pushed forward the viterol were able to do so.

Why people like Battle were able to do what they did.

As she approached his apartment building, she scrambled up a fire escape, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, like she did years before when the children were small and they all played superhero against the Kraang and the Foot Clan. Only now she was playing against time, and an organization that had the power to birth mutants.

She reached the top of his building, a beautifully laid out deck, complete with garden and a greenhouse, chairs and chaise loungers spread about. A bar, currently empty, waited to one side for a party that would bring it back to life. Phoenix stopped for a moment, in spite of herself. The amount of space up here that could be used, to grow food, to grow medicine. Just the amount used to grow luxury was amazing. She walked, much slower than she should have, to the door, and pulled on it. Locked, of course.

She laughed, bending down and examining the lock. The building was older than it looked, and those who refurbished it must not have thought to put a digital lock on the roof door. It was analog. I got this. And in a few minutes longer than she would admit if she were telling the story herself, she was opening the door and descending the stairs to the elevator.

She opened the unlocked door to his apartment slowly, listening keenly for any sounds that would indicate where Battle would be hiding within. He wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. With her slingshot pulled back at the ready, she slowly opened the bedroom door. Empty. So was the bathroom. She dropped her shoulders, opening the bedroom closet, the last place that he might be. It held an array of Battle's clothes, but not the man himself.

She let out a frustrated sigh. The apartment was empty.

TSOTCTSOTC

Sappho jolted in fear.

There she was. Trapped. Smoke obscuring her vision and burning her eyes and lungs. Heat searing her skin. She was going to die here. Again. A nightmare repeating into eternity.

Something felt off this time. Different. A tiny flicker of puzzlement in her usual blaze of terror and pain.

She wasn't stumbling around, lost. She was sprinting, with purpose. And carrying something with her.

The novelty changed nothing. Her nightmare ended as it always did. The flaming beam coming down on her, to pin her in place while she burned.

She staggered as her chest slammed into the solidness of the beam as it fell and she resigned herself to the end.

Until her fingers grazed across the scaly surface, igniting a flame of recognition.

No.

She couldn't die here.

There was... something, something important. She had to fight.

Instead of crumpling under the crushing weight, as always, her arm wrapped around the cylindrical surface of the beam and she pushed off the ground from her crouched position with enough force to feel the cement shatter beneath her feet. Screaming she flung herself forward in a final effort to escape the fate that had felt so inevitable just a second before.

Cradling her cargo, she hit the ground rolling, the ropey beam making the tumble an unwieldily mess, ultimately trapping her beneath it as she skidded to a stop on the pavement.

So there was no escape after all. She would die here, just like every time before.

And then the weight atop her vanished. Warm, strong arms enveloped her.

Familiar.

Safe.

Free.

It was finally over.

TSOTCTSOTC

Splinter alighted silently on the rooftop across from the apartment complex, catching the soldier he'd just taken out and lowering his body silently down. The small army, strategically positioned around and likely inside the building suggested that he had followed the correct path. Part of him desired to go straight to her, but if she were in battle he'd be bringing problems rather than aid. And, despite its deceptive normalcy, his experience and instinct insisted the building was really a fortress. But any functional fortress had hidden points of egress.

A scan of the area identified Battle's people, moderately well-hidden for soldiers. Most were strategically positioned in places that made tactical sense. Except for those. Two soldiers in an alley, across the street from the apartment building, appearing to guard the side door of a local convenience store.

Splinter smiled. A secret was no good if you didn't keep it.

Moving like liquid shadow, he slipped down into the alley, appearing before the soldiers like a phantom. There was only time for their eyes to widen in surprise, before he'd drawn their almost thigh length utility knives from their leg sheaths and run them both through, the blades so deeply buried into the old brick and mortar behind them that their bodies barely appeared to slump against the wall. And then he was through, using the right guard's key card to open the seemingly normal door, as he'd observed them doing when he'd assaulted Battle's facility months before.

Instead of stepping into the convenience store, he found himself on a cement landing, steep stairs heading underground in the direction of the street. The way to Phoenix.

TSOTCTSOTC

Phoenix looked around the bedroom in frustration, her eyes landing on a framed photo of a younger Battle in a EDF uniform, with his arm around a young man that looked very much like him, also wearing one and showing a much lower rank. His son, she thought as she picked up the photo to examine it. Her heart clenched as she looked at the proud, smiling faces that showed out from it, with an old, pre-Kraang New York skyline behind them. These were people who had lives and dreams, one of them was dead before his time, and the other would most likely be soon-or would it be her that was dead? Or both of them?

"Why did you do this, Henry?" she asked out loud. "I really liked you." Maybe she'd even liked him a little too much. She sighed and put the photo back down.

"I really liked you, too, Phoebe."

Phoenix whipped around, drawing her knife, to see Battle standing alone in his bedroom doorway. How the hell had gotten there, the apartment was empty. She was positive the apartment was empty. And the voice-that-was-not-her-voice brought her, no less.

"If you weren't so selfish, we would have accomplished great things together." He continued, unperturbed by her blade.

Selfish?

Her incredulity must have shown on her face because he chuckled, a hollow, bitter laugh.

"There's so much at stake. The invasions have shown us how woefully unprepared we are." He stepped into the bedroom. "Petty conflicts, wasted potential. It will be the end of us. This is bigger than you or I. Sacrifices must be made for the sake of all." His eyes flicked to the photograph of his son for an instant. "But you would choose the people you love over the greater good. You would permit our world to die, just to hold them close to you for a little longer. It's not too late, Phoebe. You still have time to do the right thing."

"These aren't petty conflicts," Phoenix said, shaking her head. He had to be wrong. "These are big conflicts." Her eyes followed his, quickly to the photo of his son, the one who he had lost in the Kraang Invasion. For a moment her heart ached for him, remembering her loss of Ailurosa all those years ago and how it had shattered her. How she had almost not come back from it.

"Your right thing is to manipulate an entire population of people," she countered.

"To ensure our survival because we have already proven that, left to our own devices, we will not act in our own best interest." He answered, exasperation edging into his voice as he stepped further into the room, keeping the bed between them. "Someone needs to step up and protect us. Even if that means a few will need to suffer and die, the many will be able to live on and defend ourselves. You're so caught up in the weight of each individual, personal tragedy that you can't see the big picture. It might hurt in the process, such is the way of creation, but in the end we will be better for it. Safer, stronger, ready. You could help build that. A world more resilient against catastrophe and loss."

His words smacked her in the gut harder than a fist ever could. Selfish, the word bounced around in her head, bringing back memories of her youth, of accusations of being so during her gymnastics training, the terror of being so when she chose Stephan over her family of origin, when she chose to stay dead instead of finding Stephan. Was she so caught up in the individual that she didn't see the big picture? But wasn't what she was fighting for the big picture? The big picture for mutants? Her knife hand lowered slightly, her brows drawing together.

"The people who make up the big picture are individuals," she argued, shaking her head. "Your son was an individual."

His flinty gaze hardened. "Yes. I would never ask of others what I'm not willing to give myself. My future, my family's future, was part of the price paid so that future generations of individuals as you say could have there's. If individuals make up a society, what becomes of them if that society is consumed by the powerful enemies surrounding it on all sides." His expression softened and he looked at her, entreating. "I'm not even asking so much of you. You care about people. Deeply. I have seen it. With your gifts, you could ensure that they will endure. You and your family. I know what they can do and I am not a wasteful man. I know they don't believe there's a danger so great that they can't take it on alone, but there is. And they will listen to you. We can all work together and they will have the purpose they've lost, no longer adrift in a world that strains against accepting them. In time, it can be made to accept them and we can defend that world. That future. Don't you want that for your children? Your grandchildren?"

She found it hard to breath. Her mind was completely blank, that was exactly what she wanted. But how could he make that happen? People were outside trying to kill mutants as they spoke. It was like the war had never ended.

But he was right. Her family had lost its purpose. Once the war was over, once there was no more fighting, there was nothing left for most of them to do. Only those who could pass as human could really do anything. All of those who are clearly mutants could only scrape by. She had refused to abandon them, even though she could have reintegrated into human society, she didn't.

Human society had abandoned her a long time ago. Even when humans had started to join the Mutant War, she had been shoved out of her position as medical personnel. The real doctors took over, her skill set and her gifts completely overlooked by science. It had been so blatant that even Donnie had come to her defense, but it didn't matter that she had been doing the exact same thing that all of these doctors had been doing for over 20 years. She didn't have the degree, she hadn't gone to school, she was dead, she didn't exist.

She was nobody, just like every mutant that was out there.

The fullness of what he said sank in, and her brows drew together. She hated that the voice that was not her voice was silent. "Something is coming…"she drawled, fear beginning to creep up her throat.

He nodded. "Eyes turned upon us during the invasions and failure to be conquered is not the same as a show of strength. We have the potential for that strength which we are not capitalizing on. We are vulnerable to many lusting for our planet's good fortune. But we needn't be. If we can overcome our divisions, unite in purpose, we can withstand what will inevitably come. And our world will be a better place for all of us to live in." His brow furrowed. "But people resist change, no matter how necessary. Sometimes extreme measures need to be taken to create that change. It has a cost. But the end result will be worth it. Together we can usher in that future. Your decision could be the pivot upon which everything balances." He held out a hand towards her. "It's what you want, isn't it?"

She looked down at his hand, her heart thumping hard in her chest. He sounded like one of the good guys. He sounded like he wanted what was best for everyone, that he knew what he was doing, that he had a plan. How long had it been since she'd indulged in a real plan, in security in knowing what the hell was going on...in being a human being?

She reached her hand out to his, it hovering in the air, small and wiry, the skin rough and wrinkled from the hard life she'd lived on the outskirts of society.

Yuuta flashed through her mind. His tiny body, a beautiful replica of his father, save for his green eyes and his lack of properly working vocal chords. He was her Magnum Opus, her miracle. For eight months, she had consciously had to use her power for almost 24 hours a day to keep him alive and growing inside of her, her body too old to want to carry a baby and his genetics not wanting to create him to full term. With his premature birth, she'd used her powers again, in her own weakened state, to keep him alive post-partum, knowing full well the entire time that she was indulging herself, playing God, committing a cardinal sin for which she would never be able to atone. His tiny body and little squeaks reminded her of it every day. But she loved him more than life itself, and if she was honest, she loved him more than anything else in the entire world.

He was was her Magnum Opus, her miracle.

And when he had returned from Henry Battle's care, he had been covered in slices all over his tiny body, many of which would leave scars on his skin for the rest of his life.

She looked from his hand, her own still out stretched, her face twisting into one utter rage. "You tried to kill my son," she seethed.

Smile turning patronizing, he sighed. "Don't be dramatic. He was never in any danger with us. Natural hybrid specimens are far too valuable to needlessly kill. Healthy candidates are difficult to come by and we can learn so much about our evolutionary potential from them that they are extremely valuable. Your son and grandchildren couldn't possibly be safer than with us." He paused, making a visible effort to clear his expression of annoyance, playing once again at geniality. "And if you object to our methods of study, as an experienced physician, we will gladly accept your suggestions on adapting our methods. So what will it be? This is a fantastic opportunity for you, Phoebe. Are you really willing to cast it aside in an irrational maternal snit?"

Couldn't possibly be safer than with us? Had she heard that right? Phoenix wasn't so sure, the voices in her head were silent as Battle spoke. The scars scattered across her son's body were proof that they had defamed him, mostly likely in an attempt to try to trigger a healing property that he may or may not have inherited from her. She had noticed the progression of cuts, from horizontal, light, with the grain of the skin, which would naturally heal easily on anyone, to deeper, vertical ones which would take more effort from the body to weave the epidermis back together. And it hadn't done what they wanted. It hadn't triggered any healing ability in the little boy. And he and Anton had most certainly not been safe. She understood what Battle was saying as he spoke, but it was if he were speaking nonsense, the words didn't match what she knew. "The sky is green and the grass is purple, everyone knows that, Phoebe." "The cats are howling at the moon tonight, it must be a new moon."

Then came his question, in that awful tone that so many doctors had used with her during the war...the, 'you don't really know what's best' tone. She had survived for two decades off the dregs of society, keeping her and her loved ones safe, warm, and fed, she bloody well did know what was best. And she knew it because she was their mother.

"Yes," she snarled, sliding backward at the same time, lengthening the space between them. As she moved, she whipped out her slingshot, had it cocked before it was up to her chest level, and as soon as it was fully raised, she let the crimped bullet casing fly.

It struck him square in the chest and he staggered back but did not fall. The bullet dropped to the floor, revealing the shiny glare of metal through his now torn shirt and tie, scales of multicolored light shimmering across its surface. His eyes narrowed as he ducked the next shot, aimed at his forehead, with blinding speed. One hand swatted an analog alarm clock off the nightstand at Phoebe to disrupt her reload time, while the other dragged something up from the collar of his shirt over his face.

She could hear his words, though slightly muffled now.

"Disappointing, but not surprising."

She hesitated a second midshot as the doors and windows all clicked with the sounds of automatic locking and the floor vent let out a quiet hiss.

"You attacked me on my home turf and did not expect me to be prepared?" The metal fabric of the mask, glistening with petals of blue light, stole the crisp edge of his question.

She let another bullet fly and he deflected it with his forearm, slicing open his sleeve to reveal more of the armor that had thwarted her first attack.

His other hand drew a baton from the back of his belt, extending it with a flick of his wrist. "I'll have you one way or another. I've sacrificed too much to let anyone, even you, jeopardize our world's future." The end of the baton crackled with electricity and he vaulted the bed, swinging it down at her as he landed.

When the doors were closed and the gas started to enter the bedroom, Phoenix took stock of the situation. She had no one that she needed to protect, it was just her. That gave her an astronomical amount of relief, she did not have to defend anyone, she did not have to see anyone to safety, she did not have to buy time. With Battle wearing a face shield, it meant that the gas had enough oxygen in it that when it was filtered he could still breathe. That meant that she would most likely be able to filter it fast enough to keep breathing herself. When he brandished the baton and as it began to dance with tiny lightning bolts across its surface, she couldn't help but smile maliciously.

"You didn't read all those reports that your lackeys were writing about me," she replied to his charge. "That's bad form on your part, Henry."

As he vaulted over the bed, she easily moved out of his way, skirting around the footboard so they were now simply in the opposite places where they'd started.

" I was able to expel mutant snake venom from my body when most of my blood was saline solution," her voice was disgusted. "You think a little nerve gas is going to affect me?"

Battle chuckled. "Nerve gas. Certainly not." He stalked around the foot of the bed. "This has been in development since you started your visits with us, based on the data gathered. As the situation in which we currently find ourselves was calculated as a possibility, I had it installed in the event that the opportunity to test it ever arose. Sadly, its concentration must be diluted for my sake, but I couldn't help but satisfy my curiosity as to what effect, if any, our first attempt would have."

He reached the far side of the bed and flicked the baton, sending out an arc of electricity that scorched and shattered his nightstand as Phoenix ducked into a sideways roll over the bed to initiate another circle of the cramped room. Anticipating the dodge, he already whipped out another arcing bolt towards her most likely point of landing.

She landed in it, feeling the jolt zap through her body. The smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils just as the same time as the feeling of the healing tingling entered her fingertips. Glancing at them, she saw that was where the electricity had exited, the burned flesh was already healing up. She had tucked away her slingshot and unsheathed her knife as she'd traded places with Battle before. It sparked for a moment as it, too, expelled some of the electricity she had absorbed. That hurt, she admitted to herself. She was getting too old for this.

"How many people do you have waiting behind your little secret door?" she asked, motioned with her chin to his closet. "Or were you confident enough to come here all by yourself?" She jumped backward and propped herself up on the inside windowsill, barely hanging on.

It had been a very long time since she'd played "Catch the Monkey", but she was pretty sure she was still up to it. And that if she could beat ninjas at it, she could be Battle at it.

"Fantastic."

In his voice, she could hear the hidden smile.

"Let's see what the next setting does?" His fingers slid along the base of the baton and the light crackling at the end grew brighter. Something shiny slipped down his sleeve into the palm of his free hand. He threw it into the space between them and turned his head away from the subsequent mini-splosion of light and sound, following the flash bang with another crack of his electric whip.

She wasn't there when the bolt hit the wood of the window sill.

"Kittens, and snakes, and lambs, and bears, and turtles are faster than you," she said, landing on Battle's dresser. The phrase probably meant absolutely nothing to Battle, but it meant the world to her. If she got back to her family, she had to play this game with her grandchildren. Maybe in the dojo. Everyday, just like she used to. It was important. It was filled with laughter and hard knocks and competition and timers and love and it taught the children so much. Despite the circumstances, she felt a swelling in her chest of affection for her family that she might very well not see after today.

The flash bomb had blinded her temporarily, but she'd already decided on a landing place and calculated her jumping trajectory before it had gone off. She had also already figured her next three moves. Leaping from the dresser, her eyes still blind from the bomb, she flew toward Battle, using him as leverage, not sure what part of his body she kicked off from, and landed where she intended, by the barricaded bedroom door.

Eyes widening in genuine surprise, Battle toppled backwards under the force of her foot on his shoulder, losing his grip on the baton. He turned the backwards fall into a twisting roll, so as to face her coming out of it. Utilizing the directional momentum he already had, he launched himself towards her, reaching to grapple as the scales of his armor flickered from blue to orange.

Drawing her knife, she jumped from the position she held by the door and landed on the bed, her thighs burning from the exertion. She was out of practice and didn't have many more jumps in her without a substantial rest. Having to keep her balance on the mattress didn't help with resting her leg muscles any. Bad choice of land spot, she chided herself.

"You're going to run out of air before I do, Henry," she taunted, not entirely sure if it was true or not, but hoping it was. The change in his armor scales was now complete, and her mind spun with what it might mean. A warning system? A change in protection protocol? "And I can keep jumping for a lot longer than you can." If she could get him to open a door to let his people in to help him, she could get out and make a break for it, she was sure of it. But she had to get him to open the damn room up!

Spinning around after his punch struck only air, he chuckled. "Of that I have no doubt." Scooping up his dropped baton, he started towards her. "It's a good thing I'm not jumping." He stomped onto the bed, tilting its surface towards his weight as he lashed out with another whip of crackling electricity.

The grounding under broken, she fell forward toward Battle. The arc of electricity zapped through her, this time without any pain, until she landed on the man holding the baton and caused the circuit to close. She let out a low cry and stabbed at him, but her knife slid off of his armor, before falling to the side off of the bed.

Uttering a startled, incoherent curse, Battle dropped the baton as the electricity flared briefly white through the scales of his armor. His hand clamped down on the wrist of the arm she'd slashed with, the scales of his armor fading back to red like glowing embers. Using the foot he still had on stable ground for balance, he yanked her towards the elbow swinging up to meet her chin.

She planted her foot on his calf, managing to pull her body back far enough that his fist didn't collide with her face, but he did manage to clock her hard in her bicep. She let out a low grunt, trying to stay conscious of keeping a hold of her knife as he squeezed her wrist. Taking her back leg, she stomp kicked his thigh, causing him to weaken his grip enough for her to twist free.

She scrambled away, but it was hardly what one could call distance. They were both on the same side of the bed, with nothing between them. Phoenix's lungs were beginning to ache with effort of filtering out oxygen from the gaseous air and her legs made it known that they were not at all happy with her lack of practice of jumping about like a frog.

She resorted to her most reliable tactic. "I kept myself and my children safe and alive in New York City during the Kraang invasion. I killed Tricertons when they first invaded. I led militias to gain the rights of mutants when the government decided to take violent measures to solve 'the mutatagen problem.' I should have died many times over. Do you really think some gas and a tin can with a zappy stick is going to subdue me, Henry?"

"Have you now?" He took a step towards her, amusement, lacing his tone. "I know your history better than you think I do and while you're alive, you've been bested before, even by me." He flicked his right arm towards her, releasing another little flash bang from his sleeve as he ducked low to retrieve his baton and lash a whip of electricity towards her calves. "I've captured you once and I can do it again."

"I've never been bested by one person alone," she said, before the light blinded her and pain of electricity bolted through her body, starting at her calves and flying down and up at the same time to form an arc at her fingers back down the ground. Again, the smell of burning flesh and hair, this time with cloth and ozone, filled the air around them. How high the damn setting that time? She wondered. She wouldn't be able to take too many more of those without needing more recovery time than she had in the small space.

She managed to roll onto the bed, but not before Battle grabbed one of her legs.

Hand curling tightly around her ankle, he yanked her back towards his edge of the bed. "Do you really think I am alone?" As she started to rise and twisted away, he plowed his freehand into her sternum. "You didn't think I would come here by myself. My people are out there waiting for you at every exit in the unlikely case you manage to escape." Releasing her ankle to gain leverage and reclaim his baton, he pinned her chest with his whole arm, his weight pressed her deep into the mattress. "Can you say the same? Do you have back up? Did you even tell anyone where you were going?" He could feel her muscles coil and tense, to retaliate and throw him off. Before she could unleash it, he jammed the baton, now cranked to full power, between her ribs and and unleashed it into her, the scales of his arm visible on his arm flaring yellow as it insulated him from the electricity. "You, Phoebe, are the one who is alone."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he was slammed off of her by a large, red and brown blur.

Phoenix let out a scream, the pain in her body was like one she couldn't remember ever having experienced before. It was everywhere, not localized, in every cell, every micrometer of her, and when her lungs were empty from the scream, she was unable to fill them in again. None of her body parts obeyed the command of her brain to move; not her arms to throw him off, not her legs to kick, not her lungs to inhale, not even her eyes to blink. Then, like a light switch turned off, her vision disappeared and everything was black.

My eyeballs have exploded, she thought in a calmly faraway manner. What a strange way to become blind, from exploding eyeballs.

Then, blessedly, she was able to inhale.

Splinter hadn't been this angry in years. Decades. Not since Shen and Saki. But the instant he'd emerged from the closet door and seen Phoenix pinned down as Battle shocked her with enough power to make the tainted air stink of ozone, he found himself right back in that moment, not quite so at peace with it as he believed.

Overthrown by the emotion, it took him the space of several seconds to realize he was in a stalemate. Between speed, strength and technique, he'd driven Battle back to the far wall without the now disarmed man able to mount even the most rudimentary defense. But the armor, thin and translucent, covering him Battle like a second skin flashed in waves of color as it absorbed, dispersed or deflected his every attack. There had to be a weakness and he would find it.

Twisting Battle's arm behind his back, resistance from the flexible armor prevented the man's joints from tearing and breaking, Splinter pinned him face down against the floor. Even as his eyes rove across the visible parts of Battle's armor, he could smell the taint in the air growing thick and heavy. The room would soon be filled with poison. He'd better finish this quickly.

But the tableau was broken as the wall across from the bed glowed into life as a massive screen, information spilling across its surface. Realization slowly dawned as Splinter made sense of what he was seeing. An outpouring of all the EDF's sins, but, mixed within, were secrets he'd spent a lifetime protecting. His throat reflexively closed as his family lay exposed and bare for the world to see.

"What have you done?" Voice muffled by the carpet, Battle spoke clearly enough to understand. "You've doomed us all."

Splinter initially paid him no mind as his world tilted watching information stream across the wall.

"Code B573HED." A white light flashed across the bottom of the screen in acknowledgement. "Contingency plan 490, activate. Lethal force. Kill them all."

It immediately dawned on Splinter who Battle would want to assassinate at this moment.

"No." He cried out, returning his attention to Battle, whose armor now glowed a blinding, bright red. Except his eyes. The weakness.

Before he could capitalize on the discovery, the energy in Battle's armor, discharged into his body through the arm he'd used to pin the man, burning through him like flaming electricity. In an instant, his world disappeared into blinding pain.

Battle pressed the rat into the floor, scooping up his lost baton to more accurately direct the flow of electricity into the writhing form below him. Between the baton's battery and design and all the energy he'd charged up in the armor, he should be able to exert a lethal shock, even into a mutant, if he didn't let up. The rat was a liability that had to go. Between Phoebe and her rat offspring, he'd have everything he needed and she'd be easier to handle without the distraction. Yes, the rat mutant needed to be exterminated. If his calculations were correct, at the current rate of electrocution, it should only take a minute or two to inflict lethal damage to even the resilient, mutant heart. A nagging problem finally solved.

Phoenix blinked rapidly, the pain in her muscles and her eyes not subsiding, but at least now she could move and breathe. As she blinked, she realized that though she couldn't see, her eyeballs had not exploded, she could feel them with her eyelids. It was like a dimmer switch slowly turned back on from the darkness that had taken ahold of Phoenix's eyes, the room coming into view in tiny increments. Her ears had a slight ringing to them, but she could hear everything that was being said.

Lethal force. Kill them all.

She looked around the room, her neck almost jerking, to see Splinter now in the same position she had been in only a moment before.

Lethal force. Kill them all.

He didn't have her ability to withstand that kind of shock. It would kill him.

She looked around frantically and, seeing her knife, grabbed it, leaping across the room to land at Battle's back. She slid the knife across his throat with a swift, practiced motion, only for it skid off so smoothly that she actually lost a hold of it and it went flying underneath one of the bedside tables.

Battle drew his elbow back into her ribs, knocking the air out of her, his face still on Splinter. Her reaction time was much too slow, she was still hurting from the shock herself, as he brought his fist up to collide with her nose. She let out a cry, her hands flying her to face and coming back red as blood oozed out of what was most likely a broken rhinam.

The taste of copper hit her tongue, snapping her out of her momentary haze. When she had touched Battle, she hadn't been electrocuted. She leapt on his shoulders in a desperate attempt to get him off of Splinter. He ignored her completely, bearing the baton down on the rat.

His suit was somehow protecting him. The joints, which she had assumed were weak points in the armor, weren't, they were just as protected as the rest of him. She reached over his shoulder trying to budge his arms, but she wasn't physically strong enough to do so, and fell from his back next to Splinter.

Glancing up at Battle, she saw the eye sockets of the armor were not the same color as the rest of it. While the rest of the armor was red, the eyes were a faded gray. She could see his eyeballs faintly beneath it.

"It will be over soon, Phoebe. You'll see that this was for the best, eventually." Battle spoke to Phoenix, though his eyes never left Splinter. "There's no way to save him now, so be still."

Complete the circuit, the voice that was and not her voice told her.

In a frenzy, she licked her thumb, and as if she were scanning herself into a secret chamber that needed her fingerprint to open the door, she pressed it against the material of the eye protection on the armor while at the same time grabbing Splinter's ear.

She saw the tiny blue arc reach from her digit to his eyeball before her vision went black again.

The smell of scorched flesh slowly brought Splinter back to consciousness. The broken fragments of events reassembled themselves in his mind, piecing together the puzzle of what had happened.

He'd allowed himself to become distracted, an unforgivable and amateurish mistake, that could have cost Phoenix her life.

Could have or did?

Heart rate picking up, he forced his uncooperative eyelids open.

A smoldering heap of...something...lay atop his chest. Translucent scales and fabric stuck out of the vaguely humanoid-shaped lump. Battle? His snout muzzle in disgust. The effort required to raise his left hand and shove it off him was far greater than it should have been. Exhausted, his head lolled to the side where he could see Phoenix lying unconscious beside him.

A tiny puff of warm breath slipped from her lips to his nose, and he exhaled an answering breath he hadn't even realized that he'd been holding until that moment. His hand groped around blindly for hers until he noticed she was holding his ear, the warmth of her power flowing into his flesh, despite her being out cold. He reached up and dislodged her hand from his ear, intertwining his fingers with her as the course of her healing energy changed course to pour into him through his hand instead.

In the distance, he could hear siren's growing louder. A great many people would be angry and coming for Battle now. Whether or not they would be appeased by what they found, he couldn't tell, but he had no intention of being here when they arrived.

Body protesting, he forced himself to a crouch and lifted Phoenix into his arms. Slow and stiff, he held her close against his chest as they disappeared into Battle's secret escape route. Whatever the world found here, he and Phoenix would be safely away.