Whether for or against them, the wind had picked up a little and was now hurrying the falling snowflakes about, as well as kicking up the snow already on the ground. The ghostlike eddies brought visibility down, muffling sound and obscuring everything further than a stone's throw away.

"Brr." Mikey wrapped his scarf around his cold nose. "For once, I'm actually glad to be in this get-up."

"We need to be very alert," Leo cautioned. "Under these conditions, we may not spot trouble until we're right on top of it."

"You mean," and Raphael flashed his teeth, "it may not spot us."

As it turned out, they heard the commotion from half a block away. Yelling, catcalls, jeers, and even some unpleasant laughter.

"Party, anyone?" Mikey queried, surveying his brothers from under two layers of scarf. "We could crash in and get something hot to drink."

"I don't know, Mikey." Leo's voice was softer than the whisper of steel on leather. "I don't like the sound of this one."

There were at least a dozen of them, gathered in a loose semicircle by a condo wall. A scruffy kid, several feet above their heads up on the wall, was the center of attention. For a second Mikey thought it might be Spider-Man, down on his luck and clinging to the sheer brick. Then he noticed a rusty drainpipe running from gutter to third-story rooftop.

"Come on down, kitty!"

"No need to be frigid."

"At least you'll be warm with us, little broad!"

Leo felt his hackles rising at the mix of obscenities and innuendo, like a bad replay of earlier events. The part of him not concerned with the present hoped that April was all right, wherever she was.

"Lousy perverts," Raphael growled.

"What are they waiting for?" Mikey whispered.

He got his answer as a hard-packed snowball whizzed down and smacked one man on the mouth, turning his jeers into a choking cough.

"Sweet fastball." Donnie clapped quietly.

The ragged kid scooped more snow off a nearby window ledge and started packing another frozen missile. The man who'd been hit staggered away from the group, sputtering, and the turtles got a good look at his face.

And the tattoo thereon.

"Purple Dragon," Leo hissed.

Raph drew his sais. "I guess some things never change."

The gang closed in and, heads ducked against further iceballs, began wrestling with the bottom of the drainpipe, obviously meaning to peel it off the wall. The kid nailed one more Dragon, then abandoned the window ledge and clambered swiftly up the drainpipe, trying to reach the rooftop before her footing gave way.

"I've seen enough." Leo drew his swords.

"I am so gonna enjoy this," Raphael grinned, twirling his sais as he ran.

The others needed no encouragement. They closed in like shadows, all four of them, their nearly silent footsteps undetectable beneath the gang's noise. So intent on their quarry were the Purple Dragon that the brothers' flurry of kicks and blows caught them completely by surprise.

Leo found himself facing Snowball Eater and took him down with a quick rap from one katana hilt. He spun and struck another behind the ear before the first hit the ground, then flipped and leveraged a third man against the wall, locking his elbow with a practiced twist and yanking him straight into the bricks.

He looked for more targets, but it was already over. Mikey and Don had downed three apiece, and Raph was just taking out his fifth with a royal sucker punch. Leo grinned to himself. For all Raph's talk about not liking kids, he sure got upset with people who bothered them.

"Is that it?" Mikey asked in surprise, nunchucks still spinning.

"Sure is." Donnie still held his bo staff ready, though none of the prostrate, groaning Dragons looked very threatening. "Our Secret Weapon here hogged all the glory."

"Ah, they're only tough when they're picking on kids." Raphael put his sais away and beckoned to the shadow on the wall, still perched where she'd paused when the fight began. "It's okay, kid. We're the good guys." He paused to let that sink in. "You can come down now, if you want."

The kid did slide down a few inches, but Leo couldn't tell if she was listening to Raph or just too exhausted to hang on anymore. Any telltale expressions were obscured by her parka hood. Her foot caught against a metal support band and there she stopped.

"Actually, Raph," Mikey mused, "she might be safer up there for now."

"Huh?" Raphael turned to see what Mikey was pointing at. "Aw, crud."

Twenty of the upgraded mouser robots materialized out of the snowy gloom, their massive jaws chomping in macabre anticipation.

X X X

En masse, their resemblance to the original mousers was even more obvious. The single yellow eye, the servo whines, the aggressive pack behavior --

"I really don't want to be mouser chow," Mikey confessed.

"You won't be." Donatello stepped forward and brandished his staff. "We beat the old ones, and we can beat the new ones too, or my name isn't Donatello!"

Scraping, scrambling, straining metal; a snow-muffled scuffle-thump. The kid descended frantically, pushing off the bricks while still a good six feet above the ground.

"Leave them alone!" She darted between Donnie and Leo, flinging herself between the mousers and turtles in such haste that she tripped and got a mouthful of snow.

"Excuse me?" Michaelangelo blinked, looking on in bewilderment as she scrambled to her knees, sputtering.

"No! Stop!" She stretched her hands out towards the drones, as though to hold them back by sheer force of will. "Access code three four seven seven alpha charlie one! Don't hurt them!"

"I know that voice," Donnie murmured disbelievingly.

So, apparently, did the drones. They froze in place, except for one a shade larger than the others which moved forward as if for a better look at the kid. The brothers tensed, ready to spring to her aid if need be, but it merely paused after taking another step or two.

Voiceprint acknowledged. Administrative access confirmed. Awaiting new mission parameters.

"Delete logs from 17:00 on," she said, her voice trembling. "Resume patrol and recording at--" she consulted a battered wristwatch -- "17:05."

Log deletion confirmed. Patrol temporarily suspended.

"Good." She exhaled in relief and looked at the turtles, her breath a warm cloud in the chilly air. "You came. I can't believe you finally came!"

Mikey spread his hands in bafflement. "What exactly was that all about?"

"Are you Donatello?" she asked uncertainly.

"I'm Donatello." Donnie stepped forward and offered her a hand up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." But she accepted his help gratefully, her hood falling back in the process.

He caught his breath. Tousled red hair; one emerald green eye; features like an echo. Even in the semidarkness --

"April?"

"I'm not April," she said earnestly, searching his features as though to fix them in memory. She still held his hand, clinging as though to make sure he was real, her cold fingers pale against his olive-green skin. "I'm Yoshi."