Within a few minutes the street was filled with police, ambulances, fire appliances, and even the Channel Three News van, which was carrying Charles Pennington.
Danny spotted his dad first. He knew he had a lot of work to do to make up for all the trouble he'd caused. He wanted to start right away. He hurried towards his father. But before he reached his father, he found April.
"Here," he said, handing her twenty-three dollars.
"What's this for?" April asked, confused.
"It's something I owe you," he said. "Trust me."
April looked at the money. Then she remembered her wallet. She could still hear Danny's words, "trust me". For the first time in a long time, she thought she could trust him. She watched him hug his dad. That was going to be a story with a happy ending.
Then April watched as Chief Sterns rounded up the tattered remains of The Foot. She wished she could be a fly on the wall when Sterns had to admit to the world that she, April O'Neil, had been right! But she wasn't a reporter any more. She'd been fired. Or had she? Within a few minutes, Charles was positively begging her to come back to work.
"But, April, I told you, there were circumstances. I need you to cover this!"
April walked away. He followed her. "Well, I don't know, Charles. You know, May Williams over at Channel Five has her own office-"
"You can have an office."
"She's also the highest paid field reporter in New York."
Charles looked at the story going on around him with no reporter to tell it. He swallowed his pride. "Now you are the highest paid in the city."
"OK," April said. "Get me a mic." She was back in business!
Splinter and the Turtles watched from the rooftop above.
"We were awesome," Leonardo said.
"Bo-da-cious!" Michelangelo added.
"Totally excellent!" Raphael said.
"A perfect ten," said Donatello.
They looked to Splinter for his evaluation. "I have always liked..." He paused. They waited. "Cowabunga!"
"Cowa-bun-ga!" they all said in unison. Then they gave one another the "high threes" that their hands allowed.
Victory was sweet.
