Disclaimer: We don't own the ninja turtles, just some harmless borrowing to do a little fan fiction.

A/N: Sorry for the ridicilous delay. Not sure what happened with this thing, or how long it may have traveled. Will have to do some digging and find that out. Hopefully, it's still alive and kicking somewhere. ANYWAY, thank you so much everyone for your wonderful reviews. Took your advice and changed the genre to Action/Adventure/Humor, (which you'll find more of in this chapter). On another note, this fic was voted First Place for Best Casey Scene in the 2005 TMNT Fan Fiction Competition, and we all wanna thank everyone and anyone who had a part in voting and/or nominating. So, so happy! So, we hope you'll enjoy this following chapter, and please don't forget to review. Thanks!

Chapter 5 written by Isis-Lament. Go read her stories.

CINCO

Isis-Lament:

(Raphael's POV)

It took took over four hours. Four meandrous hours of shampooing and chasing a flea-infested monster, who's slippery wet coat easily eluded our grasp. Four immensely gruesome hours of treating that canine calamity's squirming body with flea treatment. Four detestable hours of plucking fleas off each other with tiny tweezers that kept getting lost them in our oversized hands. Four insane hours of tying the four-legged heathen up and tediously fumigating the entire lair with dozens of cans of Raid.

Four hours of my life that I could never gain back.

By the end of the evening, we had to leave the lair to soak in it's pesticides. We ventured topside, and even managed to drag that beast to a rooftop. Splinter had already left the lair before I had arrived, due to the apparent disgust of finding Mikey's new flea-trap of a pet. My brother kept insisting that his furred cretin was cute and intelligent. Donnie admitted that she looked deceptively cute dressed in a tutu and ribbons, while wearing a ninja bandanna over her eyes... A picturesque moment no doubt, but I was hardly in any rush to see it. I didn't even want to know how Mikey got a poodle. Considering what I had just gone through, I didn't even want to go back to the lair for at least a week.

Casey didn't know it yet, but I was crashing at his place tonight, and tomorrow night, and the next night...

Everyone was extremely peeved, except Mikey of course, and we were all lost in our own heads, brooding in our own thoughts. I knelt down beside my brothers, and breathed in the striking silhouette of Manhattan Island. The dancing lights of the city reflecting in the black harbor, and it looked magical. Even Mikey's canine monstrosity fell silent, taken by the serenity of the moment.

Finally, Mikey broke the silence. "Someday, Maggie," he said dramatically, while gesturing with his hands at the city below, "all of this will be yours."

I groaned, and decided it was long past due to take my leave. I didn't say goodbye, but I hardly ever did these days. I merely stood up, turned my back on my bros, and ran to the ledge of the building. I pushed off the cement rooftop with a mighty leap. My feet landed hard on the neighboring building, but my bent knees absorbed the impact soundlessly. I knew the city rooftops well. I could navigate them blind-folded. I followed the path of buildings that would take me directly to Casey's apartment. Allowing my body to take control, I let my methodical movements lure my mind into oblivion, a peace that I could only achieve through physical exertion. This was my form of meditation. Able to turn off my thoughts, there was nothing else that existed in the world, not even time itself. There was only my fleeting journey across the peaks of the city.

Here I successfully escaped life, if only for a short while.

I regained my sense of self when I reached Casey's building. I slowed down to a stop, and let myself catch my breath.

After a short while, I started to climb down the fire escape toward Casey's windows. The thought that Casey might not be alone hadn't even crossed my mind, foolishly enough considering how important it was to conceal myself from human sight. I was too busy thinking about Mikey's new dog, and the stirring anger it caused was a great distraction.

I was already breaking into Casey's apartment, my hands wedging his window upward, when I heard loud maniacal laughter. It wasn't wild and carefree like the rumbling of Casey's voice. No, it was sinister, higher in pitch, and it grazed against my ears with hard bitterness. My head shot up, my reflexes acute, as my body launched into a predatory awareness. My ninja physique was reasserting itself over my carelessness; better late than never.

My eyes took everything in at once, both my forward and peripheral vision absorbed the sight before me. Three men dressed in black. Faces hidden behind ski masks. Two carrying submachine guns. One pressing a silenced automatic pistol against Casey's head.

The man with the pistol was laughing. The leader of the gang. He was flanked by the other two, standing a half a pace behind him.

Casey's hands were up by his head, not even half a foot away from the pistol drilling into his temple. Not a coincidence.

The lights in the apartment were turned down low, casting strange shadows onto the sea of a mess that blanketed Casey's floor and furniture.

Casey was still brandishing his boxers, decorated with the animated depictions of Scooby Doo and his gang. Go figure.

It would be an awkward battle, but I've always been up to a challenge.

Without a second thought, I grabbed the top of the window sill. I swung my feet forward and let them collide into the wooden frame, splintering the wood, and sending the glass flying into the apartment. The window was caught by a pile of Casey's dirty laundry littering the floor, and didn't break.

Seeing the end of a pistol pressed onto Casey's head was sending me into a rage that overpowered the ability to attain rational thought. I didn't have a plan, or strategy, and I surely wasn't making a stealthy ninja entrance. All I could think was I'm gonna kick some ass!

I swung myself into the apartment, landing comfortably on more dirty laundry. With a practiced shrug my trench coat slipped off my arms and shoulders, and gracefully sloped to the ground.

I rushed toward Casey's attackers, growling and panting with a vicious snarl on my face.

My awareness detachably felt the light of the apartment wash over my leathery green body.

I saw the three men stumble backward in abhorrent fright. I was a reptilian monster invading their delicately-formed schema of the world. I was turning their universe upside down, and using that to my advantage.

Hey, maybe I had a strategy after all.

I growled loudly for effect, and even Casey looked nervous. Then again, he was the focus of three guns, and that would unnerve anyone.

I whipped out my sai from my belt in a flash of movement too fast for the eye to follow. A surge of adrenaline heightened my senses and electrified my muscles, as I realized what I was dealing with. Guns. Automatic weapons. Bullets.

Damn, I hated guns.

I hadn't gotten very far when the wreckage on the floor got the better of me. I don't know what it was, a gold ball maybe, or a bat? Whatever it was, it rolled when I stepped on it. For the third time that day, my ninja dexterity failed me, and I lost my footing. My foot slipped, I tripped, and I even stubbed a toe, but at least this time I didn't fall to the ground. I felt the steam from my anger-fueled charge dissipate. Quite a few choice of words accompanied my attempts to reattain my balance.

The leader of the group was the first to recover his nerve. I could hear him shout orders to the others as his pistol panned away from Casey's head. Big mistake, pal. Maybe these guys weren't as professional as they seemed?

Casey's hands shot behind his head, taking the leader unprepared. He grabbed his captor's arms, keeping the pistol directed at the apartment's incredibly bare wall. With a mighty heave Casey doubled over and flung the man over his shoulders. The black-clad attacker clamored nosily onto the wall and cluttered floor. I heard something break, and I couldn't tell if it was the man's bones, or a random item among the mayhem that was this bachelor apartment. The man didn't move, nor did he utter a sound, not even a groan. He stayed down, and I figured he was staying that way for a while.

Casey seemed rather confident that he had taken the leader out of the picture, for he turned away from the apparently unconscious man. With a shock, I saw that he was now holding the automatic pistol. He strove to aim at the two standing men at the same time. The gun darted uncomfortably between the two of them, looking quite minuscule in comparison to the large submachine guns. The way it trembled in Casey's hands made it seem even more inadequate. If the concept that Casey was holding a gun hadn't frighten me beyond belief, I would have almost found the scene comical. You know, despite the whole imminent death and destruction aspect...

I would rather fight three men armed to the teeth, than give Casey a gun. Casey, the master of clumsy havoc, holding a gun. It was terrifying.

The two remaining men were recovering from the shock of seeing a monster, or perhaps they were trying to deny my existence. Either way, they were quickly regaining confidence as they watched Casey fumble with his pistol. One seemed to cock his head to the side in amusement, while the other drilled his fingers against his submachine gun lazily. They both reeked of confidence, and they seemed to appreciate the hilarity in the situation that I could barely grasp. They obviously didn't know Casey at all.

I had to quickly dispose of the threat before we were all killed. Whether that meant taking out the gun-wielding Casey, or the other two men, I wasn't sure. I just knew that I had to act fast!

The two home invaders strengthened their holds on their guns, their index fingers flickering toward the triggers. I charged forward again, raising both sai slightly. My eyes calculated my attack, and my experienced muscles remained strong and prepared, but not tense.

The surplus of adrenaline pumping through my veins was intoxicating, and I felt invincible. I ran toward them on feet that could almost fly. My heightened senses drew in everything, and as I moved faster, my enemies seemed to become more sluggish. They couldn't move fast enough, couldn't aim quick enough, couldn't pull their triggers quite in time.

The man on the left started to turn toward me in a vain effort to subdue my onslaught. His gun had barely begun raising to meet my head, when my left wrist flicked forward and unleashed it's weapon. My sai sailed through the air with grim silvery beauty, narrowly missing Casey's left ear. It completed its grand finale by scrapping coarsely again the man's right shoulder. With a gasp, the man dropped his gun, startled by hazing pain induced from the merciless weapon. Casey was also surprised, and jumped in his spot, releasing his fingers of his pistol's trigger.

I didn't slow my stride for a moment, as I faced the remaining threat. I lunged sideways toward my buddy, knocking him hard off his feet. From my peripheral vision I could see him tumble, and his pistol slipped from his hand.

The last man standing was the center of my attention, as I was now staring at the point of his automatic weapon. I hadn't realized how intimidatingly large his gun really was.

Meanwhile, the opponent was having similar doubts about me, a mutant turtle monster that had materialized in Casey's apartment. He hesitated, his index fingers trembling away from his gun's trigger. The moment hung heavy in the air, pressing upon my demanding weight, and coaxing me into action. I squatted onto the floor, hugging the cluttered ground with my arms, grateful to escape my adversary's aim.

Without a hint of the faltering delay that was being displayed by my opponent, I shifted my weight onto my left arm. My legs swung powerfully in a sidesweeping action, colliding into countless unknown items littering the floor, before finally crashing into my enemy's knees. I watched his legs buckle, and he grunted as if his body deflated.

Posed to strike, I anxiously kept my eye on the point of his machine gun. It swerved perilously in the air as he fell. When the barrel of the submachine gun was aimed at the ceiling, I leaped forward propelled with intoxicated gusto. My knees landed hard against the man's chest. Too hard. He wheezed, struggled with a panicked gasp, then went limp.

I knelt over the unconscious man overbearingly, and tore the submachine gun from his clammy grasp. I fumbled with the icy steel awkwardly, its presence incredibly cumbersome in my nervous hands. I had never before been more aware of my irresponsibility... but eventually the magazine slipped off and fell harmlessly, disappearing into a crinkling bag that held nacho crumbs. I released a breath that I wasn't even aware I had been holding.

Movement flickered in my vision. I turned swiftly with my remaining sai held defensively in front of me, chastising myself for turning my back on my enemy. I relaxed when I saw Casey wrestling with the masked man whose shoulder I had grazed earlier. They rolled on the floor, their arms locked and strained, neither making any headway. I heard the sound of cardboard being flattened and plastic cracking, until Casey realized he needed a different approach. When he was again on top, he threw his weight upward and sat up straight, taking the wounded man off-balance. Released from his opponents grip, Casey brought both fists abruptly down onto the man's head. I cringed at the sick thud his blow made against the man's skull. With a violent spasm, the man stopped moving.

It was a miracle that none of the guns fired throughout the whole ordeal, a risk mimicked by the pounding of adrenaline searing in my temples and tearing through my chest. Was that my blood pounding in my head and resounding in my ears, or the sound of my heart echoing through my body? I felt lightheaded.

Casey threw his fists victoriously into the air and looked my way. Yet the sight of his mostly naked body straddling another man was too funny, and instead of sharing in his glory, I tried to bite back my laughter. I failed horribly. Casey's face suddenly reflected sheer horror, then turned several shades of red. He leaped off his unconscious opponent, then shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. He shook his shoulders and tried to regain his macho dignity, a task impossible to achieve for a half-naked full-grown man sporting Scooby-Doo boxers.

Still chuckling, I focused back on the dormant threats laying at our feet. I grabbed the last two guns before Casey had a chance, and disabled them while Casey checked on his unconscious attackers. We remained silent while I removed ammunition from weapons so alien to me, and Casey struggled to find rope in the disaster he called home.

I couldn't look at my buddy without the urge to make fun of him for his near-naked near-death experience. Still I was very eager to hear his story. Unfortunately, Casey didn't seem to know where to start, and every time he moved his lips as if to talk, a strange expression came over his face, and with a barely audible stutter, he gave up and closed his mouth. Was that awe glimmering in his eyes? In awe of what? Definitely not these guys...

The curiosity and anticipation was killing me!

Finally I could no longer resist. "Saved by Scooby-Doo an' the gang..."

At the same time Casey blurted out, "You'll never believe..."

We both froze, startled at each other's outburst... then erupted out into much-needed laughter, breaking our crippling tension.

As our laughter eased, and I waited for Casey to enlighten me with his no-doubt interesting tale, something unusual caught my attention. It was a distinct beeping sound that was both chillingly familiar, yet I couldn't place it in my mind. I tried to concentrate on its source, but wasn't sure how I would find anything in this mess! From the alarmed look on on Casey's face, he seemed to hear it as well.

It couldn't be... could it?

We dropped everything and proceeded to both tear the place apart, quickly but prudently, the urgency that we had discarded but moments ago returning in full-force.

I saw things I never wanted to see again, and touched things that no man, or turtle, should ever have to touch. This mess gave new meaning to biohazard! If the situation wasn't so desperate, I would have gagged as I encountered things I dared not mention. Despite our search efforts and sanitary sacrifices, we couldn't find the source of the rhythmic beeping.

Finally, I grabbed my trench coat to search underneath, and my cell phone slipped out from my pocket. The attention-deprived phone was blinking animately, bragging about an unread text message. Aha! I had found the culprit. False alarm. I swear, this cellphone was testing my sanity... I rapidly flipped it open, and almost laughed aloud at what I read.

Turning quickly to Casey, I chortled my amusement and began to convey my discovery, "Case', I just..." I trailed off quickly when I saw the apprehensive look on my friend's face.

That's when I noticed that the beeping hadn't ceased, and that the leader of the masked threesome was missing...