It was noon when April jolted awake, sprawled sideways over the edge of the couch. She groaned, blinking groggily and stretching her stiff neck, sitting up straight to blearily look at her watch.
Her first thought was that she never slept until noon. Her second was that she was starving.
Her third was that she'd wasted nearly six hours.
April shot to her feet, mind already racing through things to do, plans to make. She reached for her purse, slinging it over her shoulder before hesitating, debating whether or not to take a shower, fighting the feeling of shame over taking a valuable ten minutes out of her search for the sake of hygiene.
By the same token, she couldn't exactly go out smelling like a sewer. And she needed a meal, a real meal. And a change of clothes.
April groaned with frustration as she made her way to her bedroom, opening a drawer and grabbing hap-hazardly at a yellow blazer and a pair of jeans, mind racing a few steps ahead to try to cut down on time. Six hours, plus ten minutes to shower, five minutes to change, fifteen minutes to get something to eat, and….
She paused just outside the bathroom door, turning to stare at the telephone, sitting innocently on the kitchen counter. She silently pleaded with Spike to forgive her for the delay as she added one more item to the 'to-do' list:
She had to call Angel.
"Hello?"
Angel Bridge's voice was tired, worn. The ordinarily cool, collected tone was still there, but tinged with tension.
"Angel? It's April."
"April." There was a heavy sigh on the other end. "Honey, it's been quiet all night and all morning. I haven't heard a thing."
"That's okay, because I have." April stood up, cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she took her dishes to the sink, grimacing at the memory of the unappetizing meal. Spike had always been the better cook.
"What did you hear?"
April took a deep breath, leaning on the sink. "She's alive," she breathed.
"Alive? Are you sure?" The weariness dropped away from Angel's voice, replaced with suspicion. "Why would they leave her alive?"
"I'm not sure yet. I spoke to her, Angel. She was alive early this morning."
There was a pause.
"Do you know where she is?"
"I think she's being held underground. You remember those partners of the Purple Dragons you told us about? She's with them. But I don't know where exactly."
"And that's where I come in, right, sweetheart?"
"If...if you wouldn't mind." April squeezed her tired eyes shut. "I can do this myself."
"Honey, I'll do anything for a friend of Spike's. I'll put the word out and listen for any noise about anywhere the Dragons' partners might be."
"Thank you," April murmured. "Call Irma at Channel 6, or at the apartment if you hear anything. And Angel….I'm sorry. I know we haven't gotten along-"
"I know. Being the one partially responsible for your roommate coming home with black eyes, bruised ribs and broken bones probably didn't win me any favors. But April….you should know that I care about her too. She was my best fighter, but she was like a daughter."
April's knuckles turned white as her grip tightened around the telephone. "I know."
"We'll find her. Spike's tough. She'll hold out. Whatever they want from her, I know she'll hold out."
April swallowed hard as an icy cold feeling settled in her chest. She nodded as though Angel could see her.
"As long as I have known her, Spike has had a lack of self-preservation instinct that some would label bravery," Angel said gently. "That does not mean she is stupid. You said you spoke to her, that means that she knows you're alive. And that means that she is going to do everything possible to get back to you."
"That's what I'm afraid of." April turned her back to the sink, gazing out over the apartment. "That she'll put my well-being over hers."
"Honey, that's what she's always done. You are her priority. That might be what got her into this mess, but I have a feeling it's also going to be what gets her out."
There was a pause. April's eyes landed on the clock mounted over the couch, watching the second hand creep around. "I have to go," she said. "I'll be in touch."
"Stay safe, if you can."
April almost laughed, burying a hand in her hair as she sighed. "I will."
"I'll be in touch."
The click on the other end signified the end of the conversation. April numbly placed the telephone back on the receiver, eyes drawn to the clock again. Six hours and forty-five minutes gone. She had to get moving, and fast.
But first, she had to get some help.
The Shredder didn't tell her what he'd wanted from her just yet.
"I will retrieve you when I have word from my soldiers," he had said, turning his back on her to focus on his control board. "Until then, you will rest."
Spike wiped at her cheek with the back of her leather jacket, smearing the blood across her face. "Y're jus' gonna put me to bed?"
Oruku Saki didn't turn. "You are no good to me half-asleep, and half-dead with that level of blood loss. My robots will take you to the med bay to stop the bleeding, and give you a sedative. You will be awoken when we find Hun."
It had been six hours and forty-five minutes since Spike had been strapped onto the table, six hours and thirty minutes since the robots had cleaned her wound and bandaged her face, stitching her cheek back together with a mechanical needle. Without anaesthesia, the needle puncturing her flesh, drawing it back together had been agonizing. She'd gritted her teeth, hissing, biting back a howl as she felt her skin forcefully pulled back together.
It had hurt so much she'd barely noticed the injection that put her to sleep minutes later.
Now, she turned her head, opening her eyes as the metal bands retracted, allowing her to push herself up, wincing through the bright light, the pounding headache, the tight, cold feeling in her right cheek.
The Shredder stood by the end of the raised platform, arms folded as he watched her rise. "You are healing. Good."
Spike grimaced, raising a calloused hand to run over her cheek. "I guess." Her fingers pressed along two jagged lines, covered with stitches, that ran almost the length of her cheekbone. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown.
"It will scar."
Spike jerked her head up. "Hm?"
Oruku Saki indicated her face. "The stitching is basic, intended as simply a way to prevent infection or further blood loss. It is not designed as a way to minimize cosmetic damage."
Spike registered the words with cold indifference, numbness. She supposed that she ought to react, ought to be upset. Her fingers just kept tracing the lines, her mind blank but for the thought that April was going to be furious when she saw how she'd marked up her face.
It didn't even occur to her to ask for a mirror.
"My Foot soldiers have found Hun."
Spike's eyes widened. She dropped her hand from her face, pushing herself to her feet. "S' he said anythin'?"
The Shredder held a palm up. "All in good time. Hun is a subordinate. He is beneath us, and he must be reminded of that after his attempt at rebellion. I have him secured elsewhere, where he will wait for us. You must seem as though you are not desperate for information. In order for him to understand his place, we must be in control of the encounter. His unease will loosen his tongue."
"I don't give a rip 'bout control," Spike snarled. "I gotta know what happened to April. Beat it outta him if ya haveta."
"Patience. Your suggested method is crude, and considerably less effective." The Shredder turned on his heel. "But if you insist, we will begin to question him. I have arranged to allow you to do the inquiring."
Spike frowned, knitting her eyebrows together. "Me?"
"Yes. It will give you a taste of the position you can expect to be granted. Besides, I believe your change in appearance may give him a change of heart."
She lifted her hand to her face again, frown deepening.
"Perhaps you would like to see for yourself." There was the distinct sound of amusement in his tone as he crossed the room to one of the instrument-laden tables, reaching out and picking up a handheld mirror. He held it out to her. "There. Tell me what you see."
Spike met her own eyes in the mirror, and for a moment, she barely recognized herself.
The bloodstains had long dried, leaving the lower half of her face a red-crusted landscape. The bruising around her eye had swollen, and the signs of numerous cuts and bruises were apparent over nearly her entire face. These marks were not a surprise. Over time, they would heal.
Slowly, she allowed her gaze to drift to the unknown.
Across her right cheekbone, from just before her ear to just before her mouth, were two, jagged, ugly lines, stitched together with thick, black thread. The skin pulled tight along the diagonal gashes, still red underneath, almost echoing the sharp, hard edges of her jawline.
Perhaps it was morbid fascination that kept her eyes trained on the newly torn flesh, almost incomprehensibly staring at the marks. Her memory conjured up a familiar look, the look April always gave her when she came home from a match, battered and bloodied, a sympathetic look of shock, of disappointment.
In hindsight, the wounds seemed insignificant compared to this. She almost flinched at the thought of April's reaction if she could see her now.
Spike raised her gaze, forcing herself to look over the mirror, to meet the Shredder's eyes. She shrugged one shoulder, grimacing at the residual muscle ache.
"Never was much of a looker," she muttered gruffly. She lifted her chin, jerking her head to shake the blood-encrusted hair out of her eyes.
Oruku Saki lowered the mirror, slowly, deliberately. "If you would join me, I believe Hun is ready to tell us what we want to know."
Spike's grey eyes hardened. "Good. Lead the way."
Hun kneeled in the center of the large, empty room, his arms bound behind him. On either side, a Foot soldier held a shoulder, preventing him from attempting to escape. His body was turned away from the door, preventing any attempt to read his expression.
Spike's mouth twisted as she watched him through the small window set in the metal door. "'S there any reason y'couldn't jus' ask your Foot-bots what happened?"
"Unfortunately, despite the technological advancement it took to create them, they are not an artificial intelligence. They cannot speak, and as of now, there is no way to extract visuals from their memory circuits." The Shredder stood at Spike's shoulder, looking disinterestedly through the window. "Even if such a technology were available, the cold observation of a machine is little match for the instinct and awareness of a man. Therefore, we must get our information the traditional way."
Shredder reached for the control panel on the side of the door. "Hun will tell us what we need to know. He knows the price of betrayal is steep, and that his life will be spared if he is useful to us. At least, for now."
Spike's eyes followed the Shredder's fingers as he tapped the number keys in order: 1-7-9-1.
The lock released with a low, metallic hiss.
"'F he's gonna spill his guts so easy, how come you're sendin' me in to rough 'im up?"
"For a variety of reasons. It is important that he view you as possessing some authority if you are to be a contender for his territory once I return to Japan. It is also vital that I observe your capabilities. You must learn to use power to control if you want to keep hold of the city. There is no better tool for control than fear."
As if she didn't know that already.
The Shredder paused, turning his head slightly. "I will allow you twenty minutes to extract any information you can. I will be watching, should you need assistance."
Spike watched the door slowly slide open, fixing her eyes on Hun's broad back. She ground her jaw as she felt a spark of rage deep in her gut, boiling her blood. She jutted her chin forward, clenching her bruised, bloodied hands as she jerked her head in a curt nod, an acknowledgement.
She stepped into the room, waiting the extra second for the door to close behind her. Her chest pounded, gut churning at the memory of the voices on the communication devices, April's desperate pleas over Hun's cold negotiations.
She took a step forward, intentionally loud, boot-step echoing throughout the empty chamber.
The tattooed prisoner's head snapped up, turning to look over his shoulder. There was no look of fear in his eyes, only expectancy. He sneered.
"'M I so worthless that I ain't worth Oruku himself?"
"Somethin' like that." Spike took another step, split lips curling back into a painful snarl. "More like I wanted to talk to ya myself."
"Got a special interest in me or somethin'?" His dark eyes gleamed, sneer morphing into a devilish smirk.
Spike circled around towards his front, cracking her knuckles, her neck. "Y'could say that." She leaned forward. "I wanna know what happened at the Manhattan Security Service building."
"And what if I don't feel like talking? You'll beat it out of me?" Hun chortled. "You may look mean, sunshine, but y' don't look like a killer just yet."
"First time for everythin'." Spike's hand snapped out, grabbing a fistful of Hun's shirt collar and yanking, bringing his face close to hers. The Foot soldiers on either side released their grip on his shoulders, allowing her to support his weight. "You listen, an' you listen good," she snarled. "Y'held a gun to April O'Neil. I oughta beat your brains in just for that. If it were upta me, 't wouldn't even be for information, jus' for fun."
A look of realization flashed over Hun's features before they hardened again. "Sanchez," he breathed. "Bridge's fighter. Shoulda known. You and your friend have got hard heads, no sense. You don't know when to take a dive or to leave anything alone. It ain't wise to tangle with the Dragons, or you get the fangs."
Before she could even think about it, she drew her arm back and cracked her knuckles across Hun's teeth. She suppressed a hiss at stab of pain that shot up from her already-sore hand. "Ain't wise ta tangle with me, neither," she growled. "What. Happened?"
Hun grinned, blood mixed with saliva running down his lip. "It'd take a lot more than pain if I wasn't willin' to pay my dues, sunshine. If I talk, Shredder's gotta keep me alive. We got a deal?"
He knows the price of betrayal is steep, and that his life will be spared if he is useful to us. At least, for now. The Shredder's words echoed in her head, giving her an answer, temporary as it may be.
She dipped her head shortly. "Deal." Her grip tightened. "Now spill."
He shrugged a shoulder offhandedly. "O'Neil was braver than I thought she'd be. Stupid, but gutsy. I was ready to blow her brains out until your boss decided that he wanted her alive."
Spike's teeth clenched, jaw grinding as she pushed down the urge to beat this punk within an inch of his life, maybe farther. The thought that this slimeball had nearly been the death of April was enough to boil her blood. The veins in her neck throbbed as she raised her elbow, slamming it into Hun's ribcage. He wheezed as Spike's grip on his collar tightened, raising him higher. She leaned closer, almost spitting the words.
"Is she alive?"
Hun's chin lifted, his grin spreading even wider, if it were possible.
"Yeah," he sneered. "She's alive, all right. Her friends ambushed me an' the Shredder's precious Foot soldiers before I could blow her away. They ran off with her."
Spike's frown slipped, her grip loosening in surprise. "Friends?" Her mind raced, frantically sifting through people April knew, people who would go after her.
"Yeah. Four of 'em. Highly trained martial artists. An' that ain't all." Hun's voice lowered as the smug expression on his face dropped. "These ninjas, they ain't like the Foot. Ain't even human."
"Bull." Spike's voice was shakier than she would have liked, chest tightening as unease wound its way through her gut.
"I know what I saw. These ninjas with your friend, they ain't human. They're monsters."
Spike froze, eyes wide as the word sunk in, impossible as they were. As badly as she wanted to call him a liar, the stark ring of truth was in his every word. Her limited imagination filled in the gaps, coming up with grisly images of creatures fueled by years of horror films. Her stomach churned, throat constricting as she sucked in an unsteady breath. She tried telling herself not to believe it, but the unnerved look on Hun's face told her otherwise. Either he was an incredibly good liar, or….
Or even after all this, April was in more danger than ever.
Thank you guys so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought in a review, it really helps me write. I will see you in the next chapter!