The Shredder sat upon his silver throne, fingers steepled in front of him as he studied the monitor mounted over the control panel. On screen, the dirt walls of the newly-dug tunnel passed by as the Technodrome trundled along underneath New York City.
At the foot of the dais, Spike watched as Foot robots carried a low wooden table into the spacious, round, shining room, setting it down at the base of the throne. Other robots entered the room, bearing dishes full of something that smelled suspiciously like food. Spike's empty stomach panged painfully. She grimaced, leaning slightly on the kanabō handle as she planted it on the floor beside her.
The Shredder rose from his throne and proceeded towards the control panel, reaching his hand out and touching a few keys. The shaky camera feed on the screen flickered, then changed, replaced with a map of New York City.
The Shredder slowly turned away from the map, striding purposefully towards the table. He nodded at Spike. "Come, sit. You must regain your strength, if you wish to engage in battle."
Spike hesitantly stepped towards the table, torn between hunger and caution. "What is it?"
"Food. Sit." The Shredder gestured impatiently. "There is much to plan."
Spike crouched down, setting the heavy kanabō down in front of her as she reached towards a bowl of soup, not even thinking about a spoon before bringing it to her mouth, gulping the broth down, ignoring the sting of her cracked lips. The flavor barely hit her tongue before it was down her throat, warming her belly.
It was only after the bowl had been emptied that Spike realized that she hadn't taken a breath since she'd picked it up. She lowered the bowl to the table, already reaching for another dish full of rice with an unidentifiable substance atop it.
With something in her stomach, slightly soothing the ache, Spike raised her head, watching the Shredder as he sat down across from her at the table. He reached up, unfastening his helmet and sliding it off of his head, impassively watching Spike's face.
"You have lived in New York City your entire life, Ms. Sanchez."
Spike jerked her head in a nod, leaning back slightly from the low table. "Yeh."
"I need animal specimens in order to create mutants." The Shredder leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "Where in New York City can I obtain the DNA of animals? Think carefully. These animals must not be simple house pets. They must be killers. Brutes."
Killers.
Spike's eyes narrowed, sliding her gaze away from the Shredder's face to rake the table, searching for utensils as she cupped the bowl in her left hand.
"Killers," she repeated dully, heavy eyebrows pulling together.
"In order to effectively fight Hamato Yoshi's mutants, we must find animals that are more than a match for them. The more dangerous, the more successful our attack." The Shredder's hand appeared in her line of vision, clasping two wooden sticks between his fingers. "And the more quickly your friend is restored to safety. But of course, you already know that."
Spike gingerly took the chopsticks, rolling them between her calloused fingers as she raised her gaze, meeting the Shredder's. "'F these animals 're so dangerous, how're y' gonna keep 'em from hurtin' April durin' this mission?"
The Shredder spread his hands. "For the mutation process, I needn't mutate the animals themselves. To do so would only create mindless beasts, creatures that would have to be trained. With no time to raise allies from the ground up, I must...adapt the allies that I have at my disposal. The animal DNA will be mixed with the transformation chemical itself, and applied to the volunteer of my choice."
The chopsticks dropped from Spike's fingers. "Victims, y'mean."
"The Purple Dragons have never been victims to anything but their own stupidity and carelessness." The Shredder's voice had only a slight edge to it, but his dark eyes burned with intensity. "With thinking beings as our army, I will be able to order them to harm only the other mutants. Your friend will be quite safe, and the creatures that would do her harm will be destroyed."
Human victims.
Spike absently dug into the bowl in her hand with her fingers, scooping a clump of rice to her mouth, chasing it down with the unidentifiable, slightly chewy meat that she was fairly certain was eel. The motion pulled at the clumsy, black stitches that held the torn skin across her cheek together. She barely felt it. The implications of the Shredder's words sank in, almost as distasteful as the meat.
He planned to turn men into the kinds of monsters that had captured April.
They're just Purple Dragons. Spike's eyes hardened as her chapped lips pressed into a thin line, her eyebrows lowering further. What had the Purple Dragons ever done but cause pain?
It was the Purple Dragons that had murdered Morgan Burch. It was the Purple Dragons that had killed Jeremy Dallas and chased Spike and April into the sewers. It was Purple Dragons, Hun, who had nearly shot April on the rooftop.
Then again, it was the Shredder who had put them up to it. All of it.
Spike swallowed another mouthful of rice, chewing slowly. The Purple Dragons would be punished, here, now, ordered to save the person they had tried to destroy. Once April had been rescued, they could decide how to deal with the Shredder. They could take control of his empire from him, ensure that April would never be in danger again-
April's face materialized in Spike's thoughts, features bent in a disapproving frown.
Spike paused, clutching the bowl in her scarred hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, dropping the bowl to press the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to rub the image away.
What would April say if she found out that Spike had helped turn human beings, even street thugs, into monsters?
I have no choice, she argued with the unrelenting manifestation. I have to save you. At any cost.
I promised.
Spike's hands clenched into fists as she lowered them from her eyes. I promised.
She could live with herself if she did this. Of that, she had no doubt. Justice, vengeance demanded that the Purple Dragons pay.
Spike opened her eyes slowly, looking up and meeting the Shredder's steady gaze. He hadn't looked away, just waited, unnervingly quiet.
"What would happen t' them after?"
"They would remain under my control. True, they would be outcasts of society, but all wars have casualties. What does it matter? Hamato Yoshi and his mutants will be crushed, and your friend will be safe. Should you prove yourself to me, in time, I may grant you mutants of your own to use, if you wish."
Spike dipped her hand back into the bowl, but didn't take anything, sitting with her broad shoulders hunched in on herself.
Again, the image of April's disappointed expression appeared behind her eyelids. Spike grimaced, shaking her head as though it would dislodge the apparition. Abruptly, the image changed, transitioning into the turtle-monster that Spike's imagination had created. She sucked in a breath, gaze falling to the weapon before her.
"I will, of course, find specimens without your assistance," the Shredder added mildly. "However, your contribution will aid the process considerably. Those who do not aid me are often considered hindrances."
Spike raised her head at the thinly veiled threat, jutting her square jaw out as she glowered at Oruku Saki. Her fingers itched to wrap around the handle of the kanabō, to pick it up and bash her way out of this mechanical prison.
For it was a prison.
She wasn't stupid.
No matter what Shredder promised her, she was being used. A tool, a weapon, that he intended to utilize until she could no longer 'aid' him, to be destroyed, discarded. All the promises, the power he offered her may have been genuine enough, but she would always be answerable to him.
But April would be safe.
Protecting her had never been this hard before. There was nothing to hit, no way to brute-force her way out. She had to play her cards right,to keep the Shredder pleased with her so that the rescue mission would go off without a hitch.
She twisted around to peer over her shoulder at the screen, the map of New York City that this mechanical cage was burrowing under. The overwhelming pressure of the tendrils of fear crushed her chest in, making it hard to breathe.
If she proved a hindrance now, April's life could be at risk. If the Shredder suspected her intentions, she would be destroyed. Without her needing a bribe, April would follow.
She had no choice.
Finally, Spike turned back, grabbing a clump of rice. "Central Park," she rumbled in a rush, as though saying it was akin to ripping a bandaid off. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she clamped her jaw shut, gritting her teeth, reeling as though she'd been struck. Her features froze into a pained grimace as she internally cursed herself, cursed the Shredder, cursed the Purple Dragons.
The Shredder watched her before nodding. "The Central Park Zoo it is," he said coolly. "You must learn to think more quickly, Ms. Sanchez, if you wish to prove yourself an asset." He reached for his helmet, raising it to pull over his head as he rose to his feet, striding past her to head for the control panel. "I have already chosen the animals I need. I was considering sending you on the mission to collect the samples, but I believe I prefer you where I can see you at the moment. However, I have no doubt you will approve of the team I am sending." He depressed a button on the console, leaning forward to speak into the communications panel. "Bebop, Rocksteady, report to the control room immediately. Foot bots, take Hun from his cell and bring him to me. I have plans for him, too."
Spike remained hunched over the small wooden table, the metal floor underneath her as cold as ice as her large, calloused hands wrapped around the grip of the weapon at her feet. Her grey eyes squeezed shut, trying to blot out the too-bright, too-white lights.
She might be able to live with her decision.
She only hoped April would be able to live with it too.
April craned her neck, squinting through the falling snow up at the Channel 6 building with some trepidation. It had been three days since she'd last been here, three days since things had last been normal. Three days since the eerie silence had been left in the wake of Burch's murder.
April pushed open the double glass doors, struck with a sense of deja-vu as she stood in the lobby.
If she thought it had been quiet before, it was practically a graveyard now.
The fountain splashing was the only sound to be heard throughout the spacious foyer. The water cooler stood abandoned, a lone cameraman leaning on the reception desk with his back to April. Behind the desk, Irma Langinstein silently dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, clumps of used and discarded tissues cluttering the wooden surface around her.
The place was deserted. A ghost building. A shudder ran down April's spine, and not just from the brisk December cold.
She took a few steps into the lobby, shaking the snowflakes off of her shoulders and hair, nervously glancing around the room as a sense of dread settled into her bones. "What's going on in here?" she burst out, putting her hands on her hips. Her bravado chased away the shadows of foreboding for just a moment, just enough to break the awful, heavy silence.
The moment was enough.
Irma jerked her head up, turning deadly white as her bespectacled gaze landed on April. The cameraman at the desk whirled around, clutching the wooden edge with white-knuckled hands as his mouth opened in a terrified gape. Vern Fenwick gulped, visibly shaking as April took another step towards the pair, eyes narrowing on the cameraman.
"You!"
"Me?" Vern squeaked.
The vision was as clear as day: the Purple Dragons advancing down the alley, the sound of a gunshot splitting the night as Jeremy Dallas's body hit the street. The roar of the Channel 6 news van as Vern tore out of the alley, alone, leaving them to the tender mercies of the Purple Dragons.
April's manicured hands balled into fists as a stab of good, old-fashioned anger ripped through her, heating her blood up faster than a furnace could have.
"W-w-we…" Vern stammered, pointing a trembling finger at her. "Y-y-you..."
"We thought you were dead!" Irma cried, shooting to her feet. She raised her handkerchief to her face as a fresh stream of tears ran down her cheeks.
"Who told you that? Him?!" April thrust her finger in Vern's face, leaning up to glower into his frozen features. "Your yellow streak nearly got us killed! Do you have any idea what I've been through?!"
Irma froze, still blubbering. "What?"
"The Purple Dragons came after me - came after us," April cried, waving her arms for emphasis. "Vern here took the first opportunity to save his own skin and left us for dead!"
"Reflex," Vern spluttered. "It was reflex-"
"We could have been killed!" April shouted. "If Spike and I hadn't hidden-"
"Spike?" Irma's eyes widened as she raised a tissue to her nose, blowing loudly. "You brought her with you? Is she alright?"
April stopped, wavering. For a moment, that word If loomed large in front of her, and she could see the basement flood-
"They're gone!" Leonardo's voice rang in her ears, and she could hear her own, an unsteady echo:
"Gone?! No, they can't be..."
So close.
April closed her eyes, opening them again slowly. "No," she choked. She paused, clearing her throat, voice steadying somewhat. "She's not. She's in a lot of trouble. And I need to get her out of it."
Irma clapped both hands over her mouth, a horrified look spreading across her face.
April glanced at her watch. "I don't have much time. Vern, tell Burne that I'm back. Tell him that this story is bigger than either of us thought, and that I've got something for him."
Vern and Irma exchanged a look. The cameraman cleared his throat. "Um, April?"
"Now, Vern!" April barked. "Or I'll tell him that your cowardice put us in mortal danger, do you understand me?"
Vern went scarlet and pushed off from the desk, hastily retreating towards the heavy wooden door that led to Burne Thompson's office.
April checked her watch again. "Irma, I need your help with something."
Irma nodded, twisting her handkerchief in her hands before letting out a high-pitched cry, leaning over the desk and flinging her arms around April's shoulders. "Oh April, I was so worried! After you told me what you were doing - investigating the Purple Dragons! - and then Vern came back alone! I was convinced you'd been murdered! I'm so glad you're safe!"
April returned the hug with relief, realizing with a start how much she'd missed human contact. "That makes two of us. But we're not out of it yet. Listen, Irma, I need you to focus, okay? Focus?" She pulled back from the hug, holding Irma's shoulders and looking the dishevelled receptionist in the eye.
Irma nodded, ponytail bouncing. "Focused. What do you need, April?"
"I need to find out if there have been any hints of underground movement, in the last twenty-four hours. Look for tremors, or new tunnels in the sewers, anything underground that shouldn't be happening."
Irma cocked her head, blinking. She sniffled. "What?"
April lowered her voice, glancing around the empty lobby as she lowered her hands from Irma's shoulders. "Spike was taken by the Purple Dragons," she murmured. "They brought her to a mobile underground base. I was on it's trail, but I lost it last night. I need to find it, as quickly as possible. Spike's life...could depend on it."
Irma bit her lower lip. "You're still in trouble, aren't you? The Dragons...they're still looking for you, aren't they?"
April dug her hand into her pocket, clenching around the note that the Purple Dragons had stabbed to her kitchen counter. Her blood, which had run so burning hot moments ago, slowly turned cold in her veins as she swallowed hard. "Just find out for me, okay?"
Irma hesitated, frowning. "April…"
"I promise, as soon as I can, I will explain everything, but I have to move fast." April spun, heading for Thompson's office. "I'll be right back," she called over her shoulder. "But I need those locations!"
"But-"
April was already through the doorway, slamming the door behind her as she took in the sight of Burne Thompson, rigid in his chair, staring up at her from behind his desk in shock.
"O'Neil!?"
"I told you, sir!" Vern sidled around the edge of the massive desk, shrinking back to stand at the editor's right hand. "She's alive!"
"O'Neil, I thought you'd bit it for sure!" Thompson bellowed, raising his girthy frame to his feet and slamming his meaty hands on the desk. The cup of coffee perched on the corner of his desk wobbled dangerously. "What in blazes do you think you're doing? Running around, not answering the phone, turning up after we've all thought you've ended up on the wrong side of the grass?!"
As harrowing as the last few days had been, as little patience for Burne's bluster as she had right now, there was a part of April that was heartily relieved to see him back to his normal, cantankerous state.
"I almost did."
"What happened?" Burne demanded.
April shook her head. "That's not important right now. Burne, I need to talk to you about that story you put me on. Burch's story."
Burne shifted uncomfortably, easing himself back down to sit. "Funny thing about that…" He chuckled uneasily. "Y'know, April, the newsroom is a busy place-"
A hint of suspicion niggled at the back of April's mind as she paused, mind working to piece together his discomfort, Vern's guilty looks, Irma's hesitation. "I know that, Burne. I'm not an amateur, remember?"
Burne didn't meet her eyes. "We thought-"
"You'd been gone for three days, April," Vern cut in. "You're off the story. I took it."
April turned on him incredulously. "You?! " She threw her hands in the air. "You scooped me?! You had the nerve to desert me, and then take my story? Why don't you just hop into my grave while you're at it?!"
"Now, hold it, O'Neil," Burne barked. "I put Fenwick on that story. There was another technology heist while you were gone. I had Fenwick take the van out and get some coverage of the aftermath." Burne shook his head. "Three days, April. You didn't bring me zip, heck, you weren't around at all! If the police didn't have their hands full dealing with the robberies-"
"Or if they weren't so busy being paid off by the gangs in this city," April interrupted angrily. "What, Burne? You would have called them? Sent them out to look for me?"
"Now hold it. When I sent you out on this doozy, I told you that I didn't want you dead. That's why I sent you, of all people. Thought for sure that Sanchez would take care of you-"
April's stomach lurched and she pitched forward, planting her trembling hands on the edges of the heavy desk. "She did," she said hoarsely. Her eyes stung as tears welled up, blurring her vision. She shook her head, trying to blink them away. "She did," she repeated. "Spike kept me alive."
Thompson paused, frowning.
She raised her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "She's trapped, Burne," she whispered. "They got her. She let them take her so I could get away. I don't know if she's alive, or if she is, how long she will be. You need to let me continue this."
"Just call the police," Vern suggested coolly. "I'm sure they'll find her."
Thompson raised his hand to silence him, shaking his head. "O'Neil's right, Fenwick. The cops in Dragon territory are all on the take. If the Dragons have Sanchez, there isn't anything the police are gonna do about it." He craned his thick neck, his craggy features softening slightly. "I'm sorry, O'Neil." For a moment, the bluster was gone from his voice as he ran his hand through his thinning, graying, blond hair. "I put you into this. Heck, I put Sanchez into this, and she doesn't even work for me. That's two people I've lost on this story. I'm killing it, once and for all, before I lose anyone else."
"You can't," April burst out, pleadingly as her hands clenched, white-knuckled, on the desk. "Burne, you can't! I'm onto something, something big, and when I get it, I'll blow this whole thing wide open. With proof, the police will have to shut them down! This is my only chance, the only way I can fix this!"
"Save it," Thompson turned away slightly, folding his arms across his chest. "You were right, O'Neil, and it isn't easy for me to admit that. This story is a suicide run. I should have known that from the beginning."
April's knees nearly buckled, but she forced herself upright, standing with her shoulders back, fists clenched at her sides, eyes blazing. "No, it's not. I'm still alive."
"Only because Sanchez probably isn't," Vern pointed out.
April whirled on him. "Don't say that. She's still alive. She has to be."
"You're deluding yourself," Vern said, impatience tinging his nasally voice. "If the Purple Dragons have her, she's gone. For good, O'Neil. Just be thankful it wasn't you."
"No. She contacted me last night." She spun again, a frantic, wild movement as she focused on Thompson. "I know who the Dragons' partner is," she murmured. She reached into her coat pocket, bypassing the death threat and triumphantly withdrawing the ninja pizzeria coupon she'd kept with her. She waved it in front of Thompson's face. "This is their meeting place. It's a ninja clan, Thompson. That's where the weapon that killed Burch came from."
Thompson froze, clearly torn as his eyes locked onto the coupon. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." April pulled the coupon back, raising her pointed chin. "And don't worry about me being safe. I've got protection." She cringed inwardly, praying that this didn't count as betraying the turtles' secret.
Thompson leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
Vern squinted at her. "I hardly think a coupon is definitive proof for the involvement of ninjas, April."
"Not by itself. But I know how to find more proof. And you yourself said that a professional analyst thought it looked like the M.O. of ancient ninjas." April looked imploringly at Thompson. "You have to let me do this. Please, Burne. One more chance."
"Mr. Thompson, you can't possibly-"
"Shut up, Fenwick," Thompson snapped, shooting an irritable look at the weasley cameraman. "If I wanted your opinion, I'd have asked you. In case you forgot, I'm still in charge of this station."
Vern took a step back, looking slightly cowed. "Yes, sir."
Thompson clasped his hands together on the desk, looking at April intensely for a few moments before reluctantly nodding his head. "Okay, O'Neil. Against my better judgement, I'm gonna give you another chance. We've got a lead at the Central Park Zoo."
"Wait. The zoo?" April repeated, raising a thin eyebrow.
"That's right. Two hours ago, security cameras caught a couple of thugs, Purple Dragons, breaking into a few of the cages and collecting samples from some of the animals. The police report is in the wire room. Find out if it might be connected to the technology thefts."
"A zoo robbery?" Vern threw up his hands. "Why on earth would Purple Dragons rob a zoo?"
Thompson glared at him. "That's what I'm sending O'Neil to find out," he growled. "Now get out, Fenwick."
Vern folded his arms across his skinny chest, as he opened his mouth, shut it again, and harrumphed defensively. Upon getting no response from either other party, he hunched his shoulders, shuffling across the room, pulling open the door and slamming it shut behind him.
In his wake, the silence fell, but this time, it didn't seem quite so oppressive as it had in the hallway. April took a deep breath.
"Thank you, Burne," she said quietly. "You won't regret this."
"I'm regretting it already. Get on it, O'Neil."
"Yes sir." April straightened her shoulders, spinning and bounding towards the door, a determined expression fixed on her face. She paused at the door, turning around. "I promise, this time, I won't let you down."
Thompson waved his arms at her, a frown creasing his craggy features. "Now, O'Neil!"
"Yes sir!" April reached for the door, but before she could grab the handle, the door swung open from the outside, revealing Irma Langinstein, clasping a stack of papers in her hands.
"Sorry, sir, but it's important," Irma said breathlessly, thrusting the papers out. "Here's a list of locations that local scientists say have been experiencing uncharacteristic slight tremors."
April's bright blue eyes widened as she grabbed the stack from Irma's hands, flipping through them frantically. "Thanks, Irma, you're the best!"
"Tremors? What's all this about, O'Neil?" Burne demanded.
"It's all part of my scoop, Burne," April called, already pushing past Irma to dash down the hallway towards the wire-room. The interior to Channel 6 looked brighter somehow, as though the building itself knew things were looking up. "Stay by the phones, Irma! I'll call when I need a team!"
It won't get away from me this time.
Twenty agonizingly long minutes later, April tore out of the Channel 6 news building like a woman possessed, screeching to a halt on the sidewalk and wildly glancing from side-to-side, peering around the corners of the building. The bright light of the surface during the daytime combined with the city noises was almost overwhelming after so long clambering around the sewers and abandoned buildings, but the familiarity was somewhat comforting.
April peered around again, more slowly this time, trying to spot the four turtles among the many bodies moving around the streets of New York.
Where are they?
"Hey, April! Psst!"
April spun around, clutching the stack of papers to her chest as she glanced down the alley alongside the Channel 6 building. "Hello?"
Raphael leaned against the building, a pair of dark glasses over his eyes, fedora pulled over his head, and trench coat wrapped around his body, clumsily obscuring his shell from a first glance. He slid the sunglasses down his beak, looking over them. "Yo, sister, what's happenin'?"
"Give me a break." April walked towards him, trying to appear casual. "Are your brothers with you?"
"Yeah, back there." Raphael jerked a green thumb at the alley behind him. His light demeanor dropped abruptly as Leonardo appeared behind him, a pensive look on his stern face.
"Did you find anything?" he asked.
"Boy, did I." April shifted the papers in her arms, glancing over her shoulder as she followed the pair into the alley. "I found enough information to lead us straight to the Technodrome!"
Donatello leaped from a fire-escape, landing on the alley floor and straightening up. "What did you learn?"
"Two hours ago, the Central Park Zoo was robbed by a couple of Purple Dragons. They stole samples from a rhino and a warthog, and then left." April held up the police report. "The images taken of the culprits match two of the guys who chased Spike and me into the sewers. And that's not all. I have a list of locations around the city that have experienced unusual underground tremors. I matched them with a map of the city, and guess what?"
"They follow a pattern!" Donatello exclaimed, raising on the tips of his toes to look over April's shoulder at the pages. "Leading from the building we saw last night to the Central Park Zoo!"
"Exactly!"
Leonardo nodded grimly. "Then that's where we must go."
"What would the Purple Dragons want with zoo animal samples?" Michelangelo asked from his perch atop a garbage bin. He cocked his head, scaly brow wrinkling. "If you ask me, they shoulda just stole the animals! Way cooler."
"That's not very practical," Donatello argued. "Suppose the Foot's base is underneath the zoo, it would be nonsensical to take entire living animals and try to contain them, when DNA samples will provide all the genetic information necessary. Though I do wonder why they would take samples in the first place."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough," Raphael crowed, drawing his sais and grinning.
"We have to move quickly," Leonardo said grimly. He craned his neck, searching the air as if sensing something. "While you searched above ground, Master Splinter sent us to the surface while he followed the underground tracks alone. I fear something may happen to him."
"Master Splinter can take care of himself! He's a highly trained ninja," Raphael pointed out. "You weren't just born with those ninja skills, remember? He taught us! I'm sure he'll be fine."
Leonardo pressed his beak shut and shook his head. "All the same, I'd prefer it if we moved quickly. Something doesn't feel right."
"Join the club," April said. "Leonardo's right. We don't have time to lose."
Hey guys, again, sorry this took so long! This was a doozy to write, and I revised so many times I no longer know what words are. Please, leave a review to let me know what you thought, it really helps me keep writing. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter!