Brown eyes opened in the deep black of the darkened tunnel, and a three-fingered hand went to rub a green, bald head.
"What was I doing…?" The strange looking young man asked himself as he stood, leaning his shell against the wall of the sewer tunnel.
He shook his head, then looked up suddenly, hearing a footfall beyond him in the darkness.
He straitened out his bandana, a mask of blue, and drew one of his katana, trying to sort out the jumbled mass of shadows…
"Who's there?" He called out "Show yourself!"
But there was no answer, save silence and the sound of a footfall heading away as his assailant ran.
*~*
Leonardo, the cool-headed field leader of what once was the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and now just the "Turtles" returned to the lair, an abandoned subway some ways below the city, his mind askew.
Michaelangelo, the orange-masked prankster of the group looked up from the couch where he lounged with a box of leftover Chinese food on his stomach, chopsticks poised to dive into the leftover sweet-and-sour pork, rose his eye ridges at his brother as he entered.
"What's eatin' you, Leo? Usually when you go on one of that crazy walks, you're more cheerful, what happened?"
Leo looked up from his thoughts.
"I'm not sure, Mike, and that's what's troubling me."
*~*
The four brothers stood together, awaiting their Sensei's arrival in the "war room" of their lair, a subway car at the beginning of the tracks, where the conductor would seat himself.
Donatello, the intellectual inventor of the four Turtles who were no longer teenage, glanced with concern at his brother Leonardo, there were dark bruises forming on his green skin, deep hard-hitting bruises that seemed very tender.
Raphael, the fiery red-masked brother seemed disenchanted with all around him, distant and uncaring, though inside he was very nervous.
Michaelangelo shifted from foot to foot in anticipation, if there was someone who hurt his brother (and who may steal pizza!) he wanted to get rid of them quickly!
Leonardo sat, feeling drained in the corner. His eyes were closed and his breathing almost labored, his walk had left him feeling rather ill to his stomach.
And he knew, beyond somewhere in the distance, his attacker was waiting.
A half-hour later, Master Splinter, the aged but kindly mutant rat the Turtles had been raised by, had not shown at the meeting.
"This isn't right. Something doesn't feel right." Michaelangelo said, sliding a hand over his nunchaku, Don looked and nodded, agreeing with Mike. They turned to Leo, who opened his eyes.
"You're right, Mike. This isn't good."
"Someone should go check on him."
"What do you think, Raph… ael?" Michaelangelo asked…
Raph had disappeared.