After four weeks of living underground I was starting to chaff at being so cooped up. I needed sunshine and I missed fresh air. I also needed to get OUT. I was going stir crazy.
However, Donatello was adamant that I stay put. He was usually somewhat quiet or reserved when working with his brothers. But it was almost as if I brought out the beast in him when he was around me.
At least, that's what Mike told me one day after I irritated Don again when I did too much.
All I wanted to do was to flip my mattress over. It was something I did every couple of weeks so that it would wear evenly. Call it being obsessive, but I felt that if I didn't do it my mattress would be ruined.
But, Don was not at all happy with me when he 'caught' me flipping the thing.
He chastised me sternly, "What are you doing? Why didn't you ask for some help, Min.? You're going to undo all the healing if you're not careful."
After being on my own for four years with no one to answer to except my boss and my customers, it was quite annoying to have a twenty year old turtle telling me what to do. Yes, Don was a fantastic 'doctor', computer geek, and all-around Mr. Knowseverything. But I was aware of my limitations, not him.
"Look, if I re-injure the ribs I'll let you flip the mattress next time. I'll even let you tie me down to keep me from getting up and doing things."
Obviously Mike had a field day with that comment.
I did not mean for it to sound the way he had taken it. But no matter how hard I tried to back-peddle my words, Mike turned it around to get more laughs out of his brothers. With the exception of Don, of course.
Don only shook his head and ducked back into his room to escape his brother's teasing. It seemed to be the way he always handled these things, too.
Finally in frustration I told Mike to go soak his head in a bucket – for about ten minutes! That had Raph howling, of course, and Mike thought it uproarious as well.
But then Splinter came out of his Tassel Room to see what all the commotion was about.
My two friends clammed up faster than - well – a clam.
It's quite amazing to see how quickly an authority figure can calm a situation with just his presence.
The moment Splinter made his appearance Mike and Raph had completely changed the mood in that living area. Leo had moved off a moment before, so Mr. Perfect still had his untarnished reputation intact. But, Mike and Raph were now busy playing innocent – which I think Splinter was no where near to believing. His furrowed brow and one lash of his tail said quite a lot about what he thought.
Mikey just smiled innocently as he picked up a magazine to read and sat down on the couch. Raph was already sitting down and had flipped the T.V. on to channel surf. He ignored the fact that his sensei had just walked in. I had to turn away so I wouldn't reveal the smirk on my face. Of course Don was already in his room.
Splinter just shook his head and wandered over into the kitchen.
Anyway, my ribs were just about healed and my wrist was back to normal. It felt good to breath without a sharp jabbing pain poking me. Once I was feeling better and moving around more, I insisted on helping out where I could.
Despite my pleas to go topside, though, Don was insistent that I stay in the lair. I decided that if I couldn't go to the surface then by gum I was going to make myself useful.
Though I loved to cook, Mike made a point to tell me that he preferred making the meals. So, I thought maybe I would do clean up and possibly sort through the pantry to see what needed restocking.
Mike had a decent kitchen complete with an old but workable cooking range. Their refrigerator was about the size of the one in my old apartment. With adequate counters that boasted a double sink, they even had nice looking cabinets. That surprised me a lot.
Donatello had explained that the cabinets came from a dumpster that was behind a home improvement store not too far away from them.
They were made from a maple blend of laminates and were quite beautiful. The cabinets weren't perfect, but, still, they seemed somewhat out of place in the now defunct subway station.
I guess when an item is deemed a loss, the stores just toss them out and then write it off on their tax return. It's amazing how much 'stuff' our culture throws away, though, just because it's less than perfect. I am sure there are people who would be more than thrilled to buy these marred items for a reduced price.
Yet my friends certainly reaped the benefits of that dumpster and maybe for that I was thankful for them.
While Mike was out one evening scavenging, I went through their pantry to see what they had in the way of supplies. I wanted to make something for them as a thank-you for the care they had given me. Unfortunately I couldn't find enough of the right ingredients to make the brownies. So I decided I would have to wait until Mike made another visit to topside.
However, I was surprised to find quite a few dry goods and canned items that were brand new and not discards. But, most of what they had were dumpster-treasures that had been slightly squashed and therefore not presentable enough for store shelves. Some were just a little passed their expiration date, which wasn't that bad. Mike told me he knew which days certain stores cleaned their shelves off and that's when he'd go 'shopping'.
If he needed fresher items, such as meat or perishables, Mike said he would wait until a small grocery store was near to closing. Then he and one of his brothers would sneak in with money in hand. They'd do a quick take on what they wanted verses what they could afford. Then they would leave a hastily scribbled note along with the money, taking their purchases with them.
Gracie's Grocers was one of those that they frequented.
As I thought about it, I remembered Gracie saying something a year or two ago about some kid coming in and taking stuff. She had been busy counting the cash register till and didn't even see the store door open. Later, after Gracie discovered some missing items and a note, she was certain a child had sneaked in. They'd have to be pretty small to slip in without being noticed by her.
But Gracie never called the police. What convinced her to not call the authorities was that there was always enough money to cover for the cost of whatever was taken. A note always accompanied the payment to explain the purchase.
However there was one instance when the money owed was a tad short. Gracie told me about this a few days after it had happened. I'll never forget the gleam in her dark brown eyes when she told me, either.
She said, "Mindy he was a dime shy of what the total should have been. I didn't mind it so much. It was only a dime and maybe he needed the food badly. But, the next day there was an envelope slipped under my door with ten cents and a note of apology inside!"
She was flabbergasted about the whole thing. Not too many grocers experience that kind of honesty!
I now knew who that 'kid' was and from my recent experience it was true to form for my turtle friends.
I observed that they were on the prowl almost every night scavenging and doing whatever they did when the sun went down. What bothered me, though, was sometimes the next day I would see one or more of them with cuts and bruises. Where in heck did they go, anyway; a butcher shop?
Up to that point in my friendship with them I hadn't a clue what it was they did to get so beaten up. I knew that they did martial arts and were quite adept at it. But, despite how 'lethal' they practiced, they never tried to hurt one another. I think Jack would have been overmatched had he sparred with them.
But, I only assumed that they did what they did because Splinter seemed to insist upon it. I wasn't sure why he would do that; maybe he had seen someone or knew someone who did martial arts. However, I never gave it much thought. That is until I started seeing their injuries. I was usually asleep in my bed when they'd return to the lair. By morning they were all bandaged and taken care of.
I'd ask what happened to them and one would say, "I slipped on the ice." Another would say, "I fell into some glass." or something like that.
Quite honestly, I didn't believe any of them. Their injuries were not consistent with their explanations. But I decided that maybe whatever it was they were doing between sunset and sunrise didn't concern me. I was, after all, a guest in their home.
One night I was not sleeping very well. I was having fitful dreams about Brandi and Jack. All that I had learned from Splinter about Jack's relationship with this criminal organization had started to gnaw at me. The more I thought about it and my beating, the angrier I became. My dreams were more fitful after that.
I had a hard time believing that Jack would do such a thing as beat me up. But, if my friends were enemies with this gang and if Jack was involved in it somehow, maybe he was in his own weird way trying to protect me? Possibly Jack discovered that Mikey and his brothers were visiting me? Maybe he was afraid his people would use me to get to them?
From what little I had gleaned from Splinter, these people did not like my friends at all. This gang was into crime, murder, espionage, theft, and all sorts of mayhem that only the evening news would appreciate. It's possible that if Jack were the one to have beaten me up, he might have done so in order to protect me.
Try telling that to my ribs!
Anyway, tired of tossing about in my bed and since I couldn't sleep anyway, I decided that a cup of lavender tea might be nice.
Coming into the 'living' area of the lair I noticed that Splinter was resting in his beat-up lounge chair. He seemed to be asleep. But I was becoming familiar enough with his habits to know that he was really meditating.
I tried to tip-toe as quietly as I could so I wouldn't disturb him. His head was tilted up just a little and his arms were resting on his knees. With his index fingertips and thumbs touching, he reminded me of a very hairy Gandhi. I had to work hard at suppressing a chuckle about then. However I think I might have snorted quietly, none the less. In the next instant Splinter opened his eyes.
"Mindy Johnson is everything all right?" he asked in concern.
He startled me because I jumped at his words. Catching myself and turning around to face him, I said, "Oh, I've just a little insomnia. Nothing a cup of lavender tea can't handle!" I smirked and then apologized. "Sorry if I intruded."
"You did not intrude. I have been meditating for my sons." He replied quietly.
"Oh, that's nice. I'm sure they appreciate all those good thoughts." I replied.
I was not into Eastern religions. But I would never say anything of the sort to Splinter. I was raised Catholic and will probably die Catholic. Though I didn't attend mass anymore, under duress I could recite my Hail Mary's and what-have-you's as fast as anyone.
My encounter with Mr. P.J.'s in the ally weeks ago was proof of that.
Splinter only looked at me and nodded. I kind of had the feeling he didn't think I would understand – and he was probably right. Whatever he meditated on seemed to cause him to lose himself. Yet he was always mindful of what was going on around him. Knowing I was in the living room a moment ago was evidence.
I was sipping my tea in the kitchen area, sitting in an old chair at the small kitchen table. I know that somewhere 'distressed' was in vogue as far as furniture style was concerned. So I was quite surprised with how up-to-date the turtles' were in decorating their home.
There were more scratches on that table than a flea infested dog.
Just as I was drinking down the last drop of my tea, I heard a commotion. It sounded like Raph and there was a sense of panic in his voice. I looked at my watch and noticed that it was near to being four in the morning.
I ran out of the kitchen. To my horror I saw Raph trying to ease of one of his brothers through the man hole and down the ladder. He had a hold of that one's feet as Raph carefully climbed down. I could see another of his brothers holding the other end. I didn't see who his helper was, but the one that was being carried had his mask off.
I was only able to tell them apart by their mask color. Without that they all seemed to look the same to me.
Finally the one holding the upper end of the injured brother came slowly down the ladder. It was Mike.
Raph was clearly upset. "Careful, Mikey, don't loose your grip."
Then, as if he were replying to the one he was carrying, Raphael said, "Yeah, bro, we have you."
I heard a groan and realized that it was coming from the wounded turtle.
Once Mikey was off the ladder and in the lair, I saw another pair of green feet make its way down through the opening. As soon I saw the blue mask, I knew who their fallen comrade was.
It was Donatello.
"What in blazes happened?" I asked, trying not to yell or scream. I watched in shock as Don was carefully moved towards his bedroom.
"Ah, we had some problems and Don sort of slipped on some ice." Mike said lamely.
"'Slipped' my foot." I stammered.
Looking at Don as they moved him into his room, I saw numerous cuts and bruises along his arms, legs, and his plastron. The cuts were deep as if they were made by knives or swords and they were bleeding pretty badly. The bruises were very ugly in color as if Don had been hit several times with a hard object.
I started for Don's room to see if I could help, but then Leo took my arm and pulled me away.
With a look that said not to argue, he told me, "Let us tend to him, Min. We know what to do."
Leo obviously did not want me anywhere near his brother. Maybe he was being protective or maybe he didn't want me to see the full extent of Don's injuries. Either way, I was frustrated and mad.
"Look, Leo, I'm not a child. If I were a turtle, I'd be old enough to be your mother. And this baloney about slipping or falling is getting a bit old, if you ask me. I know a knife wound when I see one." I glared at him.
For a moment when he straightened up in surprise.
"What in heck is going on?" I demanded of him.
Leo was completely unprepared for my aggressive posturing. He sort of stammered and for lack of a better term, seemed perplexed in how to answer to me.
Splinter, however, cleared his throat and spoke, "Mindy Johnson, maybe it is time to explain why my sons go out every night."
"I believe it's more than just trying to find empty coke cans, right?" I commented sarcastically. I immediately apologized, "I'm sorry, Splinter, but it seems that over the past week or so, your 'sons' have been 'slipping' more than normal. I'm having a hard time believing that's how they're getting injured."
The rat bowed his head out of respect and replied, "Yes they do seem to be more 'accident prone' lately. But, if you will allow me to explain I think you will soon understand our situation more clearly."
So for the next thirty minutes, while Mike and Raph tended to Donatello's wounds, their mentor filled me in a little more about their life. Splinter told me that twenty two years before he and his master, Hamato Yoshi, had settled in New York with Tang Shen, Yoshi's wife. They had fled Japan after Yoshi, in order to protect Shen, had killed his rival, Oroku Nagi. Tang Shen had been beaten and threatened by Oroku Nagi because she had spurned his affections. His murder forced Yoshi and Shen to leave their country.
Splinter told me that once the couple was safely in New York they went about making a life for themselves. Splinter was considered part of the family and so he enjoyed much attention from both of them. He had even tried to mimic his master's ninjitsu movements. He was limited, though, considering he was not as sentient as he was now. Still, he tried and kept hidden in his heart all the knowledge that Yoshi had imparted to him by example.
Splinter went on to explain that Nagi had a brother named Oruko Saki. That brother evidently had vowed to avenge his brother's death. It happened on a day when Yoshi came home late from work. He discovered his wife slain in the kitchen and then Yoshi found Saki coming at him with a sword. He was killed instantly. In the brief battle Splinter's cage was knocked over. Out of fright he ran under the cupboards and hid. Eventually he found his way outside and down on the streets. He never had to worry about finding food before since Yoshi had always provided for him. But, now, he was on his own and very desperate.
It was during his time while he was adjusting to this new life that he discovered the turtles. The rest of the story I knew, so Splinter jumped ahead to the present situation.
"When my sons began to develop and eventually proved themselves intelligent and capable of learning, I knew what I had to do. I trained them in the art of ninjitsu so that one day when they were ready, they would be able to avenge my master's death." Splinter explained quietly.
He said it all so calmly as if he were reading a children's story.
It was quite unsettling to me, though.
I was shocked that Splinter would saddle his sons with a responsibility to avenge his master's death. If he was alluding to what I thought he was, then Splinter's plan was to have Saki killed.
However, all I interpreted with that one act was a never ending cycle of retribution.
If Splinter or his sons killed Saki, based on Saki killing Yoshi - who had killed Saki's brother - then someone from that family would have to avenge Saki's death, as well.
The cycle of revenge would never end until either all of my friends were dead or the other side was eliminated.
I asked him this irritably, "What makes you think that once you've killed this man that someone from his family won't exact a like payment from you or from one of your sons?" I pointed sharply in the direction of Don's compartment.
I was mildly angry at Splinter. For all the good he offered me and his gentle demeanor I was finding it quite disturbing that he would espouse such violence.
That was not how I thought. Even though I lived in probably the roughest end of New York, I still felt that savagery of this nature was for barbarians. It was a complete contradiction in terms to what I knew of my reptilian and rodent friends.
Splinter nodded his head and replied sadly, "You speak words of wisdom, Mindy Johnson. And you are right. This is exactly what has happened. In my quest for revenge on my master Yoshi's death, I believe we have pushed our problems past the point of no return."
"Why do you say that?" I asked, afraid of the answer he would give me.
"Many of the Dragon clan had been trying for years to find our lair to destroy us. But we are well hidden. However, they watch for us. Recently over the past year they have escalated their attacks against us. " he replied softly.
"But, why? What have you done to provoke them?" I asked.
I know that, unless a viper is bothered, the snake prefers to be left alone and is therefore harmless. But, if nudged or harassed, he can become quite deadly.
The rat answered, "Provoking is exactly what we did. You see, Mindy, last year Leo finally succeeded in fulfilling my promise to Yoshi."
"And what would that be?" I asked and yet I sadly knew what Splinter was going to say.
I saw Leo turn his head away from my direction. He seemed to be focusing his attention on Don's bedroom, now, where Raph and Mike were working on their fallen brother.
However there was a noticeable slack in Leo's posture as if the weight of the world had just been dropped onto him.
Splinter simply replied, "He killed Saki."
However, Donatello was adamant that I stay put. He was usually somewhat quiet or reserved when working with his brothers. But it was almost as if I brought out the beast in him when he was around me.
At least, that's what Mike told me one day after I irritated Don again when I did too much.
All I wanted to do was to flip my mattress over. It was something I did every couple of weeks so that it would wear evenly. Call it being obsessive, but I felt that if I didn't do it my mattress would be ruined.
But, Don was not at all happy with me when he 'caught' me flipping the thing.
He chastised me sternly, "What are you doing? Why didn't you ask for some help, Min.? You're going to undo all the healing if you're not careful."
After being on my own for four years with no one to answer to except my boss and my customers, it was quite annoying to have a twenty year old turtle telling me what to do. Yes, Don was a fantastic 'doctor', computer geek, and all-around Mr. Knowseverything. But I was aware of my limitations, not him.
"Look, if I re-injure the ribs I'll let you flip the mattress next time. I'll even let you tie me down to keep me from getting up and doing things."
Obviously Mike had a field day with that comment.
I did not mean for it to sound the way he had taken it. But no matter how hard I tried to back-peddle my words, Mike turned it around to get more laughs out of his brothers. With the exception of Don, of course.
Don only shook his head and ducked back into his room to escape his brother's teasing. It seemed to be the way he always handled these things, too.
Finally in frustration I told Mike to go soak his head in a bucket – for about ten minutes! That had Raph howling, of course, and Mike thought it uproarious as well.
But then Splinter came out of his Tassel Room to see what all the commotion was about.
My two friends clammed up faster than - well – a clam.
It's quite amazing to see how quickly an authority figure can calm a situation with just his presence.
The moment Splinter made his appearance Mike and Raph had completely changed the mood in that living area. Leo had moved off a moment before, so Mr. Perfect still had his untarnished reputation intact. But, Mike and Raph were now busy playing innocent – which I think Splinter was no where near to believing. His furrowed brow and one lash of his tail said quite a lot about what he thought.
Mikey just smiled innocently as he picked up a magazine to read and sat down on the couch. Raph was already sitting down and had flipped the T.V. on to channel surf. He ignored the fact that his sensei had just walked in. I had to turn away so I wouldn't reveal the smirk on my face. Of course Don was already in his room.
Splinter just shook his head and wandered over into the kitchen.
Anyway, my ribs were just about healed and my wrist was back to normal. It felt good to breath without a sharp jabbing pain poking me. Once I was feeling better and moving around more, I insisted on helping out where I could.
Despite my pleas to go topside, though, Don was insistent that I stay in the lair. I decided that if I couldn't go to the surface then by gum I was going to make myself useful.
Though I loved to cook, Mike made a point to tell me that he preferred making the meals. So, I thought maybe I would do clean up and possibly sort through the pantry to see what needed restocking.
Mike had a decent kitchen complete with an old but workable cooking range. Their refrigerator was about the size of the one in my old apartment. With adequate counters that boasted a double sink, they even had nice looking cabinets. That surprised me a lot.
Donatello had explained that the cabinets came from a dumpster that was behind a home improvement store not too far away from them.
They were made from a maple blend of laminates and were quite beautiful. The cabinets weren't perfect, but, still, they seemed somewhat out of place in the now defunct subway station.
I guess when an item is deemed a loss, the stores just toss them out and then write it off on their tax return. It's amazing how much 'stuff' our culture throws away, though, just because it's less than perfect. I am sure there are people who would be more than thrilled to buy these marred items for a reduced price.
Yet my friends certainly reaped the benefits of that dumpster and maybe for that I was thankful for them.
While Mike was out one evening scavenging, I went through their pantry to see what they had in the way of supplies. I wanted to make something for them as a thank-you for the care they had given me. Unfortunately I couldn't find enough of the right ingredients to make the brownies. So I decided I would have to wait until Mike made another visit to topside.
However, I was surprised to find quite a few dry goods and canned items that were brand new and not discards. But, most of what they had were dumpster-treasures that had been slightly squashed and therefore not presentable enough for store shelves. Some were just a little passed their expiration date, which wasn't that bad. Mike told me he knew which days certain stores cleaned their shelves off and that's when he'd go 'shopping'.
If he needed fresher items, such as meat or perishables, Mike said he would wait until a small grocery store was near to closing. Then he and one of his brothers would sneak in with money in hand. They'd do a quick take on what they wanted verses what they could afford. Then they would leave a hastily scribbled note along with the money, taking their purchases with them.
Gracie's Grocers was one of those that they frequented.
As I thought about it, I remembered Gracie saying something a year or two ago about some kid coming in and taking stuff. She had been busy counting the cash register till and didn't even see the store door open. Later, after Gracie discovered some missing items and a note, she was certain a child had sneaked in. They'd have to be pretty small to slip in without being noticed by her.
But Gracie never called the police. What convinced her to not call the authorities was that there was always enough money to cover for the cost of whatever was taken. A note always accompanied the payment to explain the purchase.
However there was one instance when the money owed was a tad short. Gracie told me about this a few days after it had happened. I'll never forget the gleam in her dark brown eyes when she told me, either.
She said, "Mindy he was a dime shy of what the total should have been. I didn't mind it so much. It was only a dime and maybe he needed the food badly. But, the next day there was an envelope slipped under my door with ten cents and a note of apology inside!"
She was flabbergasted about the whole thing. Not too many grocers experience that kind of honesty!
I now knew who that 'kid' was and from my recent experience it was true to form for my turtle friends.
I observed that they were on the prowl almost every night scavenging and doing whatever they did when the sun went down. What bothered me, though, was sometimes the next day I would see one or more of them with cuts and bruises. Where in heck did they go, anyway; a butcher shop?
Up to that point in my friendship with them I hadn't a clue what it was they did to get so beaten up. I knew that they did martial arts and were quite adept at it. But, despite how 'lethal' they practiced, they never tried to hurt one another. I think Jack would have been overmatched had he sparred with them.
But, I only assumed that they did what they did because Splinter seemed to insist upon it. I wasn't sure why he would do that; maybe he had seen someone or knew someone who did martial arts. However, I never gave it much thought. That is until I started seeing their injuries. I was usually asleep in my bed when they'd return to the lair. By morning they were all bandaged and taken care of.
I'd ask what happened to them and one would say, "I slipped on the ice." Another would say, "I fell into some glass." or something like that.
Quite honestly, I didn't believe any of them. Their injuries were not consistent with their explanations. But I decided that maybe whatever it was they were doing between sunset and sunrise didn't concern me. I was, after all, a guest in their home.
One night I was not sleeping very well. I was having fitful dreams about Brandi and Jack. All that I had learned from Splinter about Jack's relationship with this criminal organization had started to gnaw at me. The more I thought about it and my beating, the angrier I became. My dreams were more fitful after that.
I had a hard time believing that Jack would do such a thing as beat me up. But, if my friends were enemies with this gang and if Jack was involved in it somehow, maybe he was in his own weird way trying to protect me? Possibly Jack discovered that Mikey and his brothers were visiting me? Maybe he was afraid his people would use me to get to them?
From what little I had gleaned from Splinter, these people did not like my friends at all. This gang was into crime, murder, espionage, theft, and all sorts of mayhem that only the evening news would appreciate. It's possible that if Jack were the one to have beaten me up, he might have done so in order to protect me.
Try telling that to my ribs!
Anyway, tired of tossing about in my bed and since I couldn't sleep anyway, I decided that a cup of lavender tea might be nice.
Coming into the 'living' area of the lair I noticed that Splinter was resting in his beat-up lounge chair. He seemed to be asleep. But I was becoming familiar enough with his habits to know that he was really meditating.
I tried to tip-toe as quietly as I could so I wouldn't disturb him. His head was tilted up just a little and his arms were resting on his knees. With his index fingertips and thumbs touching, he reminded me of a very hairy Gandhi. I had to work hard at suppressing a chuckle about then. However I think I might have snorted quietly, none the less. In the next instant Splinter opened his eyes.
"Mindy Johnson is everything all right?" he asked in concern.
He startled me because I jumped at his words. Catching myself and turning around to face him, I said, "Oh, I've just a little insomnia. Nothing a cup of lavender tea can't handle!" I smirked and then apologized. "Sorry if I intruded."
"You did not intrude. I have been meditating for my sons." He replied quietly.
"Oh, that's nice. I'm sure they appreciate all those good thoughts." I replied.
I was not into Eastern religions. But I would never say anything of the sort to Splinter. I was raised Catholic and will probably die Catholic. Though I didn't attend mass anymore, under duress I could recite my Hail Mary's and what-have-you's as fast as anyone.
My encounter with Mr. P.J.'s in the ally weeks ago was proof of that.
Splinter only looked at me and nodded. I kind of had the feeling he didn't think I would understand – and he was probably right. Whatever he meditated on seemed to cause him to lose himself. Yet he was always mindful of what was going on around him. Knowing I was in the living room a moment ago was evidence.
I was sipping my tea in the kitchen area, sitting in an old chair at the small kitchen table. I know that somewhere 'distressed' was in vogue as far as furniture style was concerned. So I was quite surprised with how up-to-date the turtles' were in decorating their home.
There were more scratches on that table than a flea infested dog.
Just as I was drinking down the last drop of my tea, I heard a commotion. It sounded like Raph and there was a sense of panic in his voice. I looked at my watch and noticed that it was near to being four in the morning.
I ran out of the kitchen. To my horror I saw Raph trying to ease of one of his brothers through the man hole and down the ladder. He had a hold of that one's feet as Raph carefully climbed down. I could see another of his brothers holding the other end. I didn't see who his helper was, but the one that was being carried had his mask off.
I was only able to tell them apart by their mask color. Without that they all seemed to look the same to me.
Finally the one holding the upper end of the injured brother came slowly down the ladder. It was Mike.
Raph was clearly upset. "Careful, Mikey, don't loose your grip."
Then, as if he were replying to the one he was carrying, Raphael said, "Yeah, bro, we have you."
I heard a groan and realized that it was coming from the wounded turtle.
Once Mikey was off the ladder and in the lair, I saw another pair of green feet make its way down through the opening. As soon I saw the blue mask, I knew who their fallen comrade was.
It was Donatello.
"What in blazes happened?" I asked, trying not to yell or scream. I watched in shock as Don was carefully moved towards his bedroom.
"Ah, we had some problems and Don sort of slipped on some ice." Mike said lamely.
"'Slipped' my foot." I stammered.
Looking at Don as they moved him into his room, I saw numerous cuts and bruises along his arms, legs, and his plastron. The cuts were deep as if they were made by knives or swords and they were bleeding pretty badly. The bruises were very ugly in color as if Don had been hit several times with a hard object.
I started for Don's room to see if I could help, but then Leo took my arm and pulled me away.
With a look that said not to argue, he told me, "Let us tend to him, Min. We know what to do."
Leo obviously did not want me anywhere near his brother. Maybe he was being protective or maybe he didn't want me to see the full extent of Don's injuries. Either way, I was frustrated and mad.
"Look, Leo, I'm not a child. If I were a turtle, I'd be old enough to be your mother. And this baloney about slipping or falling is getting a bit old, if you ask me. I know a knife wound when I see one." I glared at him.
For a moment when he straightened up in surprise.
"What in heck is going on?" I demanded of him.
Leo was completely unprepared for my aggressive posturing. He sort of stammered and for lack of a better term, seemed perplexed in how to answer to me.
Splinter, however, cleared his throat and spoke, "Mindy Johnson, maybe it is time to explain why my sons go out every night."
"I believe it's more than just trying to find empty coke cans, right?" I commented sarcastically. I immediately apologized, "I'm sorry, Splinter, but it seems that over the past week or so, your 'sons' have been 'slipping' more than normal. I'm having a hard time believing that's how they're getting injured."
The rat bowed his head out of respect and replied, "Yes they do seem to be more 'accident prone' lately. But, if you will allow me to explain I think you will soon understand our situation more clearly."
So for the next thirty minutes, while Mike and Raph tended to Donatello's wounds, their mentor filled me in a little more about their life. Splinter told me that twenty two years before he and his master, Hamato Yoshi, had settled in New York with Tang Shen, Yoshi's wife. They had fled Japan after Yoshi, in order to protect Shen, had killed his rival, Oroku Nagi. Tang Shen had been beaten and threatened by Oroku Nagi because she had spurned his affections. His murder forced Yoshi and Shen to leave their country.
Splinter told me that once the couple was safely in New York they went about making a life for themselves. Splinter was considered part of the family and so he enjoyed much attention from both of them. He had even tried to mimic his master's ninjitsu movements. He was limited, though, considering he was not as sentient as he was now. Still, he tried and kept hidden in his heart all the knowledge that Yoshi had imparted to him by example.
Splinter went on to explain that Nagi had a brother named Oruko Saki. That brother evidently had vowed to avenge his brother's death. It happened on a day when Yoshi came home late from work. He discovered his wife slain in the kitchen and then Yoshi found Saki coming at him with a sword. He was killed instantly. In the brief battle Splinter's cage was knocked over. Out of fright he ran under the cupboards and hid. Eventually he found his way outside and down on the streets. He never had to worry about finding food before since Yoshi had always provided for him. But, now, he was on his own and very desperate.
It was during his time while he was adjusting to this new life that he discovered the turtles. The rest of the story I knew, so Splinter jumped ahead to the present situation.
"When my sons began to develop and eventually proved themselves intelligent and capable of learning, I knew what I had to do. I trained them in the art of ninjitsu so that one day when they were ready, they would be able to avenge my master's death." Splinter explained quietly.
He said it all so calmly as if he were reading a children's story.
It was quite unsettling to me, though.
I was shocked that Splinter would saddle his sons with a responsibility to avenge his master's death. If he was alluding to what I thought he was, then Splinter's plan was to have Saki killed.
However, all I interpreted with that one act was a never ending cycle of retribution.
If Splinter or his sons killed Saki, based on Saki killing Yoshi - who had killed Saki's brother - then someone from that family would have to avenge Saki's death, as well.
The cycle of revenge would never end until either all of my friends were dead or the other side was eliminated.
I asked him this irritably, "What makes you think that once you've killed this man that someone from his family won't exact a like payment from you or from one of your sons?" I pointed sharply in the direction of Don's compartment.
I was mildly angry at Splinter. For all the good he offered me and his gentle demeanor I was finding it quite disturbing that he would espouse such violence.
That was not how I thought. Even though I lived in probably the roughest end of New York, I still felt that savagery of this nature was for barbarians. It was a complete contradiction in terms to what I knew of my reptilian and rodent friends.
Splinter nodded his head and replied sadly, "You speak words of wisdom, Mindy Johnson. And you are right. This is exactly what has happened. In my quest for revenge on my master Yoshi's death, I believe we have pushed our problems past the point of no return."
"Why do you say that?" I asked, afraid of the answer he would give me.
"Many of the Dragon clan had been trying for years to find our lair to destroy us. But we are well hidden. However, they watch for us. Recently over the past year they have escalated their attacks against us. " he replied softly.
"But, why? What have you done to provoke them?" I asked.
I know that, unless a viper is bothered, the snake prefers to be left alone and is therefore harmless. But, if nudged or harassed, he can become quite deadly.
The rat answered, "Provoking is exactly what we did. You see, Mindy, last year Leo finally succeeded in fulfilling my promise to Yoshi."
"And what would that be?" I asked and yet I sadly knew what Splinter was going to say.
I saw Leo turn his head away from my direction. He seemed to be focusing his attention on Don's bedroom, now, where Raph and Mike were working on their fallen brother.
However there was a noticeable slack in Leo's posture as if the weight of the world had just been dropped onto him.
Splinter simply replied, "He killed Saki."
