Author's Notes:

Hello! It has come to my attention that I don't know how to spell "nunchuck," hehehe! Also, I have started writing the word "sai" as the singular AND plural of the word. One sai, two sai, many sai... if this confuses you, I am indeed sorry.

Also, I am using Canadian spelling! That means "ou" instead of "o" in words like "colour", "s" instead of "z" in words like "realise" and "hypnotise", and "re" instead of "er" in words like "centre". I just had to get this into the open, before I confused anyone! My spell checker is Canadian, and I am Canadian, so if I try to change it all to American spelling, I will get more confused than I already am! So, sorry for any inconvenience!

Disclaimer: I don't own the TMNT. This story is non-profit.

The Greatest Gifts

Chapter 3: Survival

At first, Raphael could only watch as the flashing blade of the katana fell toward his exposed neck.

Fear was not alien to the red-clad turtle, yet he was less accustomed to it than most. His death-defying lifestyle knew little of terror. Yet, there were times when fear managed to creep up on Raphael, so silently and swiftly that it sunk it's poisoned fangs into his flesh before the turtle could even detect it's onslaught. It would sweep him up and carry him down it's turbulent passage to uncharted territories, then abandon him in unpredictable destinations. On the rare occasions that terror successfully seized Raphael, it was under extreme circumstances that could even break an immortal's spirit. Like when Raphael was consumed with uncontrollable rage, and couldn't reign himself back to sanity, surrendering to the bloodthirsty desires that even frightened his own family. That never failed to scare Raphael. Or when his brothers were hurt, or his Master missing. Those were Raphael's worst nightmares.

There was one more condition that terrified Raphael: when he faced a gruesome and maiming death that fell horribly short of his expectations.

This was one of those occasions.

After all, a ninja must have standards.

The katana fell. Raphael was afraid. His fleshy neck remained unmoving. He was paralysed; trapped by the hypnotising starlight that glinted off a blade that foretold his death.

Instantly, Raphael's most bare and basic instincts took over. It seemed that the rest of his brain had given up on his higher brain functions. His "superior" consciousness was proving to be quite inferior, at the moment. Fear had reduced Raphael to the innate abilities of the oldest section of one's brain, cleverly known as the reptilian brain.

In his case, it was quite literally a reptilian instinct that took control.

Raphael's turtle impulses asserted themselves, and his head recoiled into his shell. The blade fell, but with it's main target missing, it grazed the mutant's right shoulder instead. It sliced cleanly and effortlessly. The blade's incredibly sharp edge allowed it to cut so smoothly, that at first Raphael wasn't even aware that it had occurred, even when his right arm went strangely dead. The first sensation to creep back into the turtle's awareness was a warm fluid caressing his right arm, as it slowly regained feeling. The turtle tried to piece everything together, from the mysterious trickling heat, to the shadows enveloping his shaded vision. Suddenly a burning shock brutally replaced the flowing warmth, and Raphael was snapped back to reality.

Raphael's head flew out of his shell so quickly that he further opened his wound, and his body convulsed with an eruption of unbearable agony. His body was quickly going into shock, and when he saw all the blood---his own blood---it only worsened the situation with panic. His body trembled and his quick shallow breaths panted uncontrollably. He weakly looked up to meet the gazes of the towering Foot ninjas. His last opponent, the swordsman, stood near Raph's head, holding his impressive katana with one hand. Raph watched as the man tore off his mask and allowed the turtle to see his face. There was a tempest of hatred, disappointment and murderous rage in his freakishly red eyes. His snow-white hair and pasty face was as cold and colourless as his heartless expression. The albino swordsman had failed to take Raphael's life, and the supreme resolve emanating from his body announced that he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Discarding his mask onto the ground, the albino raised his katana high over his head, it's glimmering tip pointed downward. He prepared to plunge the blade through the turtle's protective shell.

However, the swordsman had made a horrible mistake. He was presumptuous and vain, and had taken a moment to emphasise his movements with majestic flourish. He had given Raphael just enough time to recover his wits.

By the time the swordsman brought his katana down to kill his prey, Raphael was prepared. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the descending blade. Without a body to catch the sword's descent, the katana struck the cement violently. It quivered loudly, bending from the impact, but not breaking. The swordsman cried out in pain, dropped his weapon, and grasped his jolted wrists tightly.

Raphael didn't dare to try and move his right arm. Although his left arm was still battered and tender, his newly wounded shoulder overpowered all his other afflictions. He hardly noticed anything else. However, he was still acutely aware of the enemy soldiers surrounding him while he still lay vulnerable on the ground. Remarkably, Raph still had a firm grip on both sai. Careful to not cut himself with his own weapons, he grabbed his wounded shoulder with his left hand, and hugged his right arm securely against his plastron. He kicked his legs up and arched his back, and the springing movement propelled the rest of his body into the air. His agile feet swiftly tucked themselves under his body, and firmly planted onto the cement. Raphael landed in a crouched position. With a quick breath to brace himself against the pain in his shoulder, he straightened his legs. There he stood, composed and ready to fight, as his alarmed enemies stared in astonishment.

Raph had to find a way to escape the rooftop, a way where his enemies couldn't follow him... or wouldn't follow. All he needed was a head-start... Raphael tucked his right hand into his belt, hoping that his bleeding shoulder would remain relatively immobile. He lashed out hectically with his left sai to ward off his enemies. He managed to get his back against the edge of the building, which limited the amount of ninjas that could attack at once. Unfortunately, there was a downside to this arrangement: he was now backed-up against the edge the building, and it looked to be about a ten story drop... No ninja could land that fall.

Raphael smiled through his pain, dizziness and anger. Of course! No ninja would follow him down a precipitous ten-story drop, and if he survived, he would have a head-start. He might actually escape. If he survived the fall.

"See you on the dark side," Raph shouted loudly as he psyched himself for the fall. He tucked his sai into his belt. His left hand grasped the short cement railing lining the rooftop, and he gently swung himself over.

So far today, Raphael had walked into an ambush that his own negligence had created, he had gotten his shell whipped by the Foot Clan (who would just go away, no matter how many times they killed Shredder), he had destroyed his Shell Cell which isolated him from his brothers, he had nearly been killed by his enemies, he had been nearly destroyed by the darkness within him, and to top it all off: he had just jumped off a building.

Just another typical day in Raphael's life.

As he plummeted, vast amounts of adrenaline pumped into his veins, enough to last a lifetime, and time slowed down dramatically. Raphael had no idea how he was going to survive the fall. Even in a healthy state, he wouldn't be able to land such a drop. In his current weakness, even his less injured arm wouldn't be able to catch and hold his weight. His best chance for survival would be to slow his descent. Somehow. Raphael reached out his left hand, and the building tore his palm as it flew past. Spreading out his fingers, he searched frantically for a ledge, a window sill, a pole, rough texture, anything he could get a grip on. As his descent quickened, the building dug callously at his skin and nails. Raphael ignored the pain. As he rapidly advanced toward the asphalt of the street, he became more and more desperate.

A window sill finally met Raphael's raw hand, and his bleeding fingers hastily grasped the ledge with fierce determination. His freefall came to a jarring halt, and his dangling body cruelly wrenched his shoulder, threatening to rip off his arm. Raphael gasped, and lost his grip. He resumed his plummet toward the ground. The building continued to savagely chafe his hand as he fell, and although he didn't get another opportunity to latch onto something, he had succeeded in slowing his descent. He looked down and braced himself for the impact.

His feet roughly struck the street, his legs collapsed, and he rolled harshly on the asphalt, his body tossing and lurching rigourously until his rolling mercifully ceased. Raphael laid motionless and breathless on the pitiless ground, as he was plundered by upsurging pain. His body howled and revolted furiously. His left ankle felt like it had twisted, his backbone was bruised and his torso battered, his arms and legs were skinned, the ringing in his ears had returned with full force, his left hand was a mess of blood and lacerated skin, his left shoulder was swollen, and his other shoulder was spilling blood. Yet, he was still alive. He was even still conscious.

All things considering, Raphael thought he was doing very well.

Time returned to it's normal rate. Raphael managed to subdue his body's attempted mutiny, and he peeled himself off the asphalt. He ignored his twisted ankle and haggard body, and started running. He had successfully gained himself a head-start, and had left his enemies behind to scratch their heads and wonder what in the world they had done wrong. Still, Raphael knew he had lost the battle, especially when he saw his blood seep through the fingers that clenched his right shoulder.

His breaths rasped feverishly as he galloped down the street. He didn't bother to keep in the shadows, nor did he look over his shoulder to check if he was being followed. He knew he was being pursued, even if the misty fog hid his profile, and the loud wind masked his footsteps. The ninjas were following him, he knew this with fixed certainty.

Besides, he was leaving a trail of blood. That was always a bad thing to do when you were a mutant. Yet, he didn't care if he left behind vast amounts of suspicious DNA, he didn't even care who saw his humanoid turtle form. He was falling into the most vital and primitive instinct under which an animal could function. Or in his case, a human-turtle hybrid. Raphael was operating in survival mode. Very little mattered. There was only one thought entering his mind.

Don't stop running, he told himself. Even as his breathing grew more constricted, and he couldn't get enough oxygen into lungs, he did not slow down. As he started to loose feeling in his leaden feet and stiffening legs, he didn't stop running. Even though his bleeding shoulder ached and twinged with every stride he took, and agony stabbed it's tortuous needles into the entire body, he still bravely continued his flight. As his head was overcome by a relentless migraine, and his consciousness floundered and yearned to detach from his body, Raphael demanded that his legs continue to move, continue to heed his mental orders.

Only death could stop him now. He wouldn't even loose consciousness first, he wouldn't allow it. He would simply drop dead, and until either that happened, or he safely found refuge, he would not cease running.

Raphael's methodical movements seemed to be fuelled by inertia, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to keep up his pace. He knew his enemies weren't as exhausted as he felt, and by now they were probably starting to catch up. He had to find a way to gain some sort of advantage, and quickly. His darting eyes searched the area. The buildings were familiar, but he couldn't connect them in his mind. This unnerved him, because he knew he recognised this street, but his mind was too confused to verify his eyes' signals. His disorientation wasn't a good sign.

On the verge of panic, Raphael saw a faint glimmer of hope materialise through the hazy humid weather. A manhole cover! The sewers! It was the most beautiful sight his eyes had beheld all week. Relocating the chase into the sewers was a clear advantage. The turtles thrived in the sewers, and it just might be the upper hand he so drastically required.

Raph accelerated and sprinted awkwardly to the manhole cover. When he reached it, his legs gave out on him and he fell to his knees. Raphael used a sai to pry the heavy metallic disc away from it's restful pose. It was much harder than it should have been. His shoulders were throbbing, his left hand was bloodied and stinging, and his arms just didn't have enough strength. After moving it only a few inches, Raph had to kick it the rest of the way. He dropped clumsily into the murky underground, not even bothering to close the entrance behind him. Without even trying to get his bearings, he chose a random direction and ran. The sound of streaming water and his uneven breathing echoed loudly in the tunnels. It was easier to focus his senses now that he was sheltered from the howling wind, and he could hear the faint splashing of the Foot ninjas trailing behind.

Raphael tried to limit the noises that he was producing. He managed to disturb less water as he ran, but nothing could be done to stifle his struggling breaths. They sounded so excruciatingly loud in his ears, although he doubted that his enemies were close enough to hear them. He tried to zigzag down random paths and intertwining tunnels, doing his best to loose his hunters. He got the impression that he was making progress, as the sound of his followers grew distant.

Raphael suddenly ran into a large sewage conduit, and instantly recognised the storm drains above. Everything about this tunnel was familiar, even it's smell. He was thrilled and relieved to realise that he knew exactly where he was, finally! Raph silently climbed the closest ladder. He planted his left shoulder firmly underneath the manhole cover, and using his body as leverage, the heavy metal lifted easily. Within seconds, he was topside and standing inside Central Park.

He kicked the manhole cover back in place, uncaring for the beaconing sound that it made in the sewers. Central Park was his haven. He was almost as familiar with this park as he was with the sewers, and it possessed endless amounts of hiding places. Raph limped onto the trees and bushes, straying as far from the main paths as his weary legs could carry him. It wasn't until his entire body screamed for rest, and his vision was too blurry to spot the tree trunks he was continuously tripping over, that he finally surrendered. With one last strenuous effort, he hefted himself up a tree, and nestled his body between two thick branches.

What a night. This would certainly be a memorable birthday. Hopefully he could still make it home before anyone worried. Raphael struggled to collect his thoughts. It was challenging to think with all the blood loss...

Oh, right, the blood loss, Raph thought sheepishly. I should probably do something about that...

Raph dug out a roll of gauze from a small leather pouch in his belt. Donatello had started forcing his brothers to carry bandages with them, wherever they went. Raphael didn't need to ask why; Donatello was far too practised in stitching up his family's wounds. Raph awkwardly tried to bandage his shoulder, noticing that his cut wasn't too critical, but just deep enough to be troublesome. It was the sort of injury that wasn't immediately fatal, and didn't chop though any main arteries. It instead grazed his muscles and large veins. Even if it took hours, the blood would seep out continuously, draining his body until the injury was stitched up. Pressure would help inhibit the blood flow, but it would not stop it altogether. Raph tightly wrapped his entire upper arm as best he could, knowing that it wasn't the proper way to dress a shoulder wound, but it was all he could manage while cramped and balanced in a tree, along with the surplus of abuse his body had taken that night. Raphael saved a bit of gauze for his damaged left hand, because although it wasn't as serious an injury as the gash on his shoulder, his hands were also important to his immediate survival. It was crucial that he had full mobility and usefulness in his both hands.

With those tasks complete, Raph focused back on his racing thoughts. Had he lost the Foot? Had they followed him here? Should he risk going back to the lair?

Raphael remembered the last time he had been trailed by foot soldiers. There had never been any concrete proof, but Raph knew in his heart that he had led his enemy to their hidden home. His arrogant actions had led to the capture of his beloved father, his sensei. No, Raph couldn't lead the Foot Clan to their new home. As much as he wanted to live for his family, their own survival was far more important.

There had to be another way, a different solution. Raph grabbed the Shell Cell out of his belt, and looked it over again. Of course it was still cracked. He hadn't expected it to have miraculously repaired itself. Raphael flicked it open anyway, and gave it a closer look. It seemed that the tiny view screen was cracked, along with some of the outer plastic casing. However, the buttons and entire bottom half was still intact. Raphael was making progress; usually he completely trashed his communicators until they were hardly recognisable. Donatello could probably fix this one up in no time. Assuming Raph ever saw him again...

As he continued to stare at the Shell Cell, a thought came over him. He remembered a time when Mikey had cracked the LCD screen on his gameboy, but the rest of it had still worked. Of course, Mikey couldn't play games on it anymore... but the games still loaded and still worked. Raphael wondered... perhaps he could get his Shell Cell to work, if only just partially. He obviously wouldn't have visual, but he didn't actually need the visual components to communicate, as long as the intercom's main parts still functioned. Maybe...

Raph tried to turn on the communicator. Nothing happened. Raph randomly pressed buttons. Nothing happened. Raph swore aloud. Realising he was supposed to be hiding, Raphael then swore inwardly. In his light-headed state, he was easily forgetting his need for silence, and he was mind was clouding-over with frustration. This wasn't getting anywhere. What power source did the Shell Cells use, anyway? Didn't Donny say something about a back-up interface, or battery? Just another technical detail that had sputtered from Donnie's mouth... Well, at least Raph knew what a battery was, and that was a start.

Raph grumbled as he turned the communicator over so he could look at it's back. Amidst the cracks and damage, Raph could see a faint seam in the plastic casing. It definitely looked like a place to hold batteries. Raph was pleased to see how easily the back slipped off, and he felt victorious when he found a battery inside. It was unlike any battery he had ever seen, and it was without labels. For all he knew, Don could have created it himself.

"Now what?" Raph wondered out loud. Big deal, he had found a battery. He had hardly fixed the communicator. Why was he even wasting his time with this busted piece of junk? Not knowing what else to do, Raph poked the battery with his bandaged thumb. The turtle blinked in surprised when he heard a small "click" as the battery snapped into place. "You gotta be kidding me..." Raph said bewilderedly. He spun the Shell Cell back around, and noticed that a few of the buttons had lit up. It was firing back to life! Raph had fixed it! Sorta... Well, all he had done was correct a loose battery, but while stuck up in a tree, hunted by enemy ninjas and slowly bleeding to death, it felt like an amazing accomplishment!

Raph wanted to cry out: "I'm da man!" In fact, he almost did, but just stopped himself in time. He eagerly pressed a blue button that would have called Leo. Nothing happened. Raph's smile faltered. Oh, no... He quickly tried to call Casey. Nothing happened. He was starting to growl with anger, his hatred for the Shell Cell rekindled. He tried to call Master Splinter, Mikey, and even April, but again, nothing happened.

Raph's breathing quickened as his hope was replaced with vexation. There was only one button left that could help him, and it was purple. "Come on, you worthless hunk of garbage," Raphael threatened, "if this doesn't work, you'll discover exactly how my sai mangles wretched machines that piss me off!" Raphael leaned toward the communicator menacingly, his face adopting an angry scowl, as he continued in a dangerous snarling voice, "Trust me, you don't want to go there."

Raph slowly pressed the lonely-looking purple button, his last and final hope. A purple light flickered slightly in response, but after a short moment, it sparked and burnt itself out.

"Huh?" Raph uttered in confusion. Was it working or breaking? He couldn't tell.

The seconds crawled by at a tortuous tempo while he waited for some sign from his communicator. The wind wailed, a plastic bag rattled as it was tossed by the elements, and a bird flapped it's wings. Nothing else happened. Raph's breath caught and his heart sank. "No..." Raph's hand started to tremble, and violently urges enveloped his mind.

Before Raphael could do something rash, the intercom suddenly crackled, and Donatello's voice filled his ears. "Raph, are you there?" Raphael let out his breath, and his anger was immediately snuffed out.

"Donnie!" Raphael blurted quickly, as he basked in his happy relief.

"Raph?" Don responded in a confused tone. "Why aren't I getting any visual?" He heard Don let out an exasperated sigh. "What have you managed to do now to your Shell Cell?"

"Donnie..." Raph hesitated. There was so much he wanted to tell his brother, and unwanted emotions were tumbling over him. He was starting to get embarrassed, if he didn't get ahold of himself and start acting normal, his brothers would never let him live it down...

"Raph! What's wrong?" Raph was surprised by the immediate concern in his brother's voice. Don probably sensed something was wrong. He always was so very smart...

Raph paused. What was he going to tell him? Should he ask him to come get him? No matter how badly Raph needed help, he was always reluctant and ashamed to admit it. He decided to merely state, "I ran into trouble..." Raphael always understated situations. Whenever Raphael actually confessed that he was in trouble, his brothers knew that translated into "disaster."

"Are you alright? What happened?" Donatello's voice sounded stressed.

Was he alright? That was an interesting question. Physically or mentally? Of course Raph knew what Donnie meant, but he still hated that question. He was always overcome with a strange dread whenever he was asked that question, a feeling close to panic that caused him to clam up and push others away. It was as if he had a horrible secret, and if anyone ever learned about it, he wouldn't be able to live with himself. Even as he lay bleeding and faint, he still was stabbed with apprehension, and couldn't find an answer. He only managed to utter an unintelligible "Uhhhh..."

Raphael was interrupted by a faint beeping. Was it just his imagination, or was his Shell Cell making a weird sound? Donatello didn't say anything for a few seconds, then he heard heavy breathing and movement over the intercom. Was his brother running?

"Raph..." Donnie paused, almost as if he was searching for the right words. "How bad is it?"

His brothers knew him too well. Raph looked at his shoulder. His bandage was soaked, his arm was coated with scarlet wetness, and his vision swam when he moved his head too quickly. He didn't want to even give Donatello an answer. He opened his mouth to respond, but a spasm of pain had decided to choose that exact moment to wrack his body. Raph groaned loudly, and leaned back into the tree while his vision was visited by black swirls. He gasped loudly and quickly as he tried to bear through the pain without loosing consciousness, and struggled to save himself from going into shock. When his vision cleared and the agony dissipated, Raph realised Donatello was frantically calling out his name. He felt a twinge of sadness and guilt in his chest. His brother deserved better. "I'm still here," Raph managed to vocalise between clenched teeth.

"Raph..." Don paused, then added, "Can you make it back to the lair?"

Raph caught Donatello's double meaning. His brother was still trying to determine how badly injured he actually was. Raph wondered why his brothers felt as though they always had to walk on eggshells around him. He didn't wonder for long. "I don't think I'd make it," Raph admitted, remembering how disoriented he had been moments ago. He knew that was the last thing Donatello wanted to hear. Raph sighed weakly, and was about to describe to Donnie his exact location when movement caught his eye. He was surprised he had even caught it through the darkness and fog, in his feeble state and blurring vision. His scrutinising eyes scanned the area and caught further motion.

It was too late; they had found him. He must have been too loud... but how had they found him so easily? Was this the Foot Clan's trap? Were they planning an ambush? Were they on some sort of ninja turtle hunting rampage?

Raphael couldn't do it. He couldn't give out his location. He couldn't bring himself to do it. Especially since he still felt guilty about Splinter's capture. Survival was the most important issue at hand. His family's survival. It mattered more than his own life. It was far more important than any pain they would feel at his death.

"Donnie..." Raphael tried to summon up the courage to say farewell. "I gotta go... They... they found me, Donnie."

"No, Raph," his brother answered quickly, "Don't hang up!"

"I'm... sorry..." it took every bit of resolve for Raphael to force those words out.

"Talk to me, Raph, what's going on?" Donatello's words were agitated, and if Raph didn't know any better, he would have said his level-headed brother was panicking.

"The Foot..." Raph whispered, as he tried to pick them out among the bushes, shadows and trees. There were so many of them... So many... Too many...

"Raph..." Donatello began to plead, but Raphael had to interrupt him.

"Donnie, I gotta go," Raph said uncomfortably.

"No, Raph, please..." Donatello begged as his breaths grew more ragged. Raph couldn't tell if it because his brother was sprinting quicker, or if he was crying, or both...

"Donnie," Raph's voice wavered, and he hesitated. He cleared his throat, and continued in his usual gruff voice, "Good-bye Donnie. Tell the others I said... good-bye... will ya?" Even in worst case scenarios, Raphael was horrible at expressing his feelings. He knew Donatello understood what he really meant.

"Raph, no... just hold on Raph, do you hear me? Hold on!" This time it was unmistakable; Donatello was definitely chocked up.

Raphael couldn't bear to hear Don's pleading voice any longer. He hung up on his protesting brother.

It was time. He would protect his family. He wasn't afraid. He tucked the Shell Cell into his belt, oblivious its tiny blinking light, and its faint beeps and clicks. He ignored the tiny voice in his head that wondered why Donatello never asked him for his location. He had more urgent thoughts in his mind. He dropped soundlessly out of the tree.

"Come on out, you cowards!" Raphael shouted out to the shadows, surprised to hear how strong his voice sounded. That short rest in the tree had done him quite a bit of good. Raph jogged through the park as he sought a clearing. He stumbled onto the shore of the Harlem Meer, a deep lake located in the north of Central Park. It was perfect; there was definitely enough room to fight here.

Raph positioned his back to the lake, and watched as Foot soldiers slunk out of the shadows, their movements measured and predatory. One after another, they appeared, so many that Raphael lost count. He wasn't going to let these bastards ambush his family! He would take a stand. Some things were more important than one mere death.

Raphael braced himself and carefully tested his right arm. Pain seared the limb, but this time he was prepared, and it wasn't as shocking. It was quite sobering though, and Raphael gasped. He grabbed his pair of sai, and twirled them intimidatingly.

"You want a piece of me, huh?" Raphael shouted angrily. He spat in their general direction, the veins on his temples twitching with fury, as hid red mask flapped violently in the wind. "You wanna finish me off?" he continued venomously. "Fine! I'll meet you all at hell's gates!"

Raphael stood his ground, and did his best to instil fear into his enemy. His promise to survive for his brothers was forgone. He had replaced it with a vow to protect his family with his life. Besides, he was already damaged. He wasn't sure what he was going to accomplish tonight, but it was something he had to do. In a way, he was redeeming himself for exposing their lair to the Foot, a few years ago...

Raphael wondered if this night could get any worse.

Above him, the grimacing grey clouds overheard Raphael's thought, and mistook it as a challenge. With a mighty heave, they opened up and released a fury of pouring rain.

"Great..." Raph muttered, and cursed himself for jinxing the night even further.

To Be Continued...

Notes to Reviewers:

The REAL Cheese Monkey: Hehe, another threat to NOT kill Raph! You can threaten me all you want, because you can't trust me to not kill off characters. However, that is -not- the question you should be asking. You should be asking: can you trust the TMNT to get themselves out of tough situations? I know that I trust the turtles more than I trust myself as a writer, hehe!

misterfooch: Oh no, you are suspicious of my true intentions! Very well, I shall reveal them to you. I am Marklar from the planet Marklar. I have come to conquer this planet with the clever use of adjectives! Behold my plan:
Step 1: strategically-placed adjectives
Step 2: -?-
Step 3: World Domination!
Muahahaha!
I am glad you still like the story, hope you like this new chapter!

Mikaela's Spade: Yay, I'm glad you like my style of writing. I'm relatively new, so I'm trying to get into a flow... trying to find -my style-! Hehe, I don't have rough drafts because I'm a diligant writer, I have rough drafts because if I don't, I will have thousands upon thousands of plot holes! rough drafts are my brain-farts prevention plan!

BlueRaven: hehe, so it sounds like 3 out of the 4 turtles are your favourites, hehe! Poor Donnie, we just won't tell him that he comes last! Of all the turtles, Raphael is my #1 favourite, followed closely by Leonardo. I'm in love with Raphael! I'll do my best to satisfy all the Raph fans out there. I'm happy you like my fic so far, I hope I don't disappoint you!

Pi90katana: hehe, "totally tubular, dude!" thank you very much! When you say the last two movies, do you mean TMNT 2 and TMNT 3? The first movie is my absolute favourite! I hope you've seen it! It's the -original- movie, hehehe! My stories are mostly based on what I see in that first movie, to tell you the truth... but I do study all three of them! I've started watching the new cartoons recently, and I really like them. Did you ever see the original cartoon, the one that started it all?

Ted: hahaha, Raph's medical bill. If he used health care, he would owe them tens of thousands of dollars by now! I hope Raph doesn't know where I live, because with all the abuse he's taking in my story, he's not going to be very pleased with me! hehe! Hope you like the new chapter! And sorry, I can't spell "nunchucks", and I'm doubly sorry if any canadian spelling bothers you!

jigsaws231: I'm glad you like my Raphy interpretation! He's really a smart guy, you can tell from the movies and even the cartoons! I have full faith in him, but he is going through a rough time. Poor Raph, when will you learn that you don't face your demons by throwing yourself into battles that you can't win? Please tell me, did I do well with Raphael in this chapter? Now he's conflicted between living and protecting his family, clashing guilt-trips, I hope I didn't go overboard? Thank you for pointing out the correct spellings! I have no idea myself, I tried to ask the internet for advice, but I couldn't find any concrete answers, lol! I'm glad you came around, let me know when I make further mistakes! Am I using the word "sai" correctly now?

captkablooey: haha, Don -could- put a vibrate mode on the Shell Cells. -Or- Raph could think first before he acts. Either solution would work. Oh, there are more and more layers in Raph's angst-ridden mind! The layers just don't STOP!