Disclaimer: Same old song, I don't own a thing.
Short chapter. Odds are it gets rewritten, but with me you never can tell.
"A man who won't die for something is not fit to live"
-Martin Luther King, Jr.
DONATELLO
"We need ta' go up there," Raphael growled, pacing relentlessly in front of the televisions. The news was still playing in the background, telling us nothing. It mocked us with its lack of detail.
I did not have the strength to reply to the statement he had made so many times already. I pressed my cellphone into my ear and waited. A ring. Two. Three rings. Answering machine.
"Hi, this is April O'Neil. I can't come to the phone, so leave a message. Thanks!"
I snapped the phone closed. Her voice echoed in my mind as I reopened it, dialing a second number. There were no rings, her message replied immediately.
"Hey, this is April. I'm not around, so leave me a message and I'll get back to you when I can."
"God damnit," I groaned, throwing the phone down angrily. She never left her cellphone on; I shouldn't have expected it now.
"Leo," Michelangelo murmured, "Raph's right. We need to-"
"We don't know it was her."
"We don't know it wasn't."
"Shut up, Mr. Glass-Half-Full," Raphael barked. In frustration, he tore a sai from his belt and threw it towards the wall, where it buried itself in the aged concrete. He stepped forward and retrieved it. "Ya' know what, Leo, I don't give a rat's a-…a shit about your half-assed orders."
"You're not leaving, Raphael!" Leo argued, already speaking to our brother's back as he strode towards the door. "There are cops swarming her building! You'll never get close enough to see if she's- Get back here!"
Raph was at the door already, punching the lock's keypad viciously. He did not look back, though he surely heard Leonardo racing to catch up. The large door hissed and groaned on its hinges as it slowly swung open. He prepared to step into tunnel, but stopped and gasped loudly.
I snapped my head upward in surprise, only vaguely listening to the prerecorded voice floating through the speaker of my cellphone.
"April!" Michelangelo cried before I had processed the silhouette in the doorway. The emotion in his voice was hard to decipher; joy, excitement, and a bit of fear, as though he'd just seen a ghost.
The woman was staring at the ground at her feet as she stepped into the lair. Her khakis were dirtied from sprays of filthy water; she must have run here. Her hair messily framed her face, strands jutting out madly. Tears had trailed the makeup around her eyes into two uneven streams on her cheeks, which had been smeared horizontally like she had tried to wipe them away.
Leo stared for a moment, before stepping forth. "Oh, God, Ape, we thought-" he began, catching himself before he finished the statement. "Are you alright?" He stepped closer to her, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder.
Silently, she shook her head. "I…I need to sit down."
"Sure," he nodded, taking her hand. He led her to the couch, where Mike and I were waiting.
April collapsed gratefully, leaning back into the cushion.
I shifted to the side to make room for her, and whispered, "What happened, April?"
"It…it… Casey. He was just laying there. Cold. And, and pale. I called 911, but…" She spoke into her hands, hiding her face. Her tone was shaky and uneven, and became unintelligible as she began to cry.
"What?" I shook my head in defeat. "I don't know what you're saying. What about Casey? Was he there with you? Where is he now?"
"There was so much blood, Donnie," she sobbed, twisting her torso to lean against my chest.
"Oh, God…" I took her by the shoulders and pushed her backwards, looking into her eyes. Slowly, poignantly, I asked, "Where is Casey? April, where is he? April!"