April craned her neck as she stared upward at the colossal metal sphere. It's top, a dome that resembled an eye, scraped the top of the tunnel. The treads, each the size of a bus, were still, the entire structure apparently dormant. It could have been a deserted hull but for the ominous hum that seemed to emanate from it, and the open door situated in the bottom of the sphere, between the two treads. A ramp extended from it, leading up to the passageway into the bright light, illuminating the entire tunnel.
The shining glow hurt April's eyes, now used to the dark. She squinted, standing, transfixed, at the foot of the ramp.
At her side, Donatello took a tentative step forward. "To build a mobile structure of this size," he began, a dazzled expression on his face. He paused, shaking his head. "Incredible."
"Admire it after we get our master back," Leonardo said, looking up at the ramp.
And Spike.
The words were on the tip of April's tongue, choked back by the icy cold hand that wrapped around her heart and throat.
This was it. The lion's den. The belly of the beast. The lair of the Shredder.
The place that Spike had been imprisoned in for days.
April's heart hammered in her chest. She sucked in a breath, willing her hands to stop shaking, trying to shake the thought that they were being led, like lambs to a slaughter. Shredder knew they were coming. He was ready for them.
"You okay?" Michelangelo asked from behind her.
April nodded, raising her chin, hoping the non-verbal lie looked more convincing than it felt. She straightened her shoulders. "I'm fine. Just a little…" her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a word besides terrified. She shook her head, taking a shaky step forward. No matter what was waiting for them inside the Technodrome, there was no time for hesitation. "Come on. Let's go."
"Alright!" Michelangelo raised his nunchucks, leaping forward onto the ramp.
"For Splinter!" Raphael cried, brandishing his sais.
"Be careful, guys," Leonardo said, eyeing the entrance. "We have no idea what the Shredder has in store for us in there."
"Don't worry. We'll be careful." Donatello drew his bo-staff, stepping in front of April. "April, stay behind me. There could be trouble."
Silently, April followed him up the ramp, heart pounding in her throat as they neared the doorway, the jaws to what was, almost certainly, a trap.
The door was finally beginning to give.
Spike's shoulder burned, bruised from impact. Her thin lips stretched back over her blood-stained teeth, lungs and muscles throbbing. The broken thread from the torn stitches on her face hung down, brushing against her jawline as she pulled back, slamming her booted foot into the peeling edge of the door, once, twice, a third time.
As she worked, she listened.
It hadn't taken long for Hamato Yoshi to explain that the Shredder's story wasn't the truth. There were no spies within the Foot clan, no danger of an overthrow. Just a powerful student who wanted to be better than his master.
"I figured the scum was lyin'," she grunted, leaning back to kick at the door again. "'T least 'bout a few things."
"And yet, you still offered your cooperation." It wasn't an accusation, but still there was a hidden question in those words.
"Didn't have much of a choice. Didn't matter to me why he was doin' any of it." Spike paused for a second, chest and shoulders heaving as she sucked in air. The leather jacket lay, crumpled in the corner of the cell. Her bare, muscular arms were streaked with sweat, the salty liquid burning where it ran into the slowly-healing cuts from her bout with Bebop and Rocksteady. "Jus' one question. 'F he got ya kicked out, why bother chasin' y'down in the first place?"
The old master was silent for a minute.
"I do not know. Perhaps the old hatred still burns within him, unable to be satisfied with his victory as it is. Perhaps he will never be satisfied without the total destruction of those who stood up to his tyranny."
"Whatever his reason is, he's gonna pay for draggin' April into this," Spike growled.
Replacing the despair that had turned her bones to lead was a feeling far deeper and greater than the pain in her limbs, a feeling that she knew well:
Rage.
Rage at the Shredder, at the Purple Dragons, for putting April in danger. Fury at herself for not finding a way out sooner. Rage that burned in her chest, seething so intensely that it wouldn't let her body stop moving.
The backs of her eyes burned, vision blurry as her muscles bunched, charged with adrenaline thundering through her veins, dulling her nerves, as she backed up as far as she could in the tiny cell, steeling herself for another charge.
Her shoulder burst through the doorway, the metal groaning as it sheared away from the wall, tearing outward. She stepped back, immediately reaching for the hole she'd made, grasping the edges and pulling with all her might, widening the hole as she grunted, muscles straining, blood-caked boots slipping on the floor.
With another shrieking, groaning noise, the silver door peeled back far enough for her to squeeze her bulky frame through into the familiar bright whiteness outside.
Her eyes widened, a triumphant blaze lighting her eyes. She turned reaching for her jacket, and the tape inside. She folded it over her forearm, stepping one leg through the hole, crouching and ducking her head to hurridely shove her upper body through. She grimaced as the splintered metal scraped her arms, tearing more rips in her jeans as she burst into the hallway, breathing hard.
There wasn't even a moment to celebrate the victory.
She turned, glancing up and down the empty hallway, before her eyes fixed on the identical door directly next to the one she'd just destroyed, the cell holding her fellow prisoner, Hamato Yoshi.
She stepped towards the keypad mounted on the side, frowning with concentration as she struggled to remember the order the Shredder had tapped the numbers in, hoping the combination was the same.
1...7
The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, every sense on alert. Every nerve was wound tight, screaming at her to pick up the pace. She gritted her teeth.
9...1
As her thumb pressed in the final number, she jerked back, eyes fixed on the door as it slid open.
She'd barely given a thought to the appearance of Hamato Yoshi, the man the Shredder had tried, and failed, to kill with his mutagen. Her only thought was that, if what he said was true, Spike owed him. Freeing him was out of no sense of justice or concern for taking sides in the Shredder's private little war.
No. She had to free him for a far simpler reason: he had helped April. For that, she owed him. Freeing him was merely a matter of repayment.
As the door slid open, it occurred to her that she hadn't considered whether to expect a man or a monster.
What she got was neither.
Inside the cramped silver cell, clad in a tattered red robe, was a humanoid brown rat. He sat, cross-legged, on the metallic floor, looking up at her with an expression of utter calm.
He rose slowly, paws scratching at the metal floor, tail flicking behind him. He stood at perhaps Spike's chest, seeming relatively harmless after the mutants the Shredder had just recently created. The dangerous warrior that the Shredder had described seemed incongruous with the figure before her.
Spike unfolded the jacket over her arm, shrugging it on as she skeptically looked the rat up and down.
One of his whiskers twitched. He cocked his head, studying her with wise eyes. "You are injured."
Spike rolled her broad shoulders in a shrug, fighting a wince. "I'll worry 'bout it once we're outta here," she grunted. She jerked her head, keeping her eyes off of the mutant. "C'mon. I know where Shredder's arsenal is. We grab a few weapons an' then we get outta here."
Hamato Yoshi nodded, stepping out of the cell, into the hallway. "Very well. Lead the way."
He had barely finished speaking when the alarms started.
The Foot soldiers were upon them instantly, accompanied by an ear-bleeding, screeching siren.
The robotic ninjas had swarmed from every entrance down the long, white entry hallway as the ramp disappeared, and the door closed behind April and the turtles. No way out. Nowhere to go but through the mechanical army before them. At first, there had been six, then twelve. Every time the turtles cut a wave down, another, stronger wave followed. Each time, the doors slammed shut behind the new soldiers, preventing any escape. They were trapped, bottlenecked, and they couldn't hold out much longer.
"You get the feeling someone has it in for us?" Michelangelo panted, ducking out of the way of a katana slash.
"Occasionally," Donatello wheezed, blocking a kama's swing with his bo-staff. "Leonardo, we can't keep this up forever! What do we do?"
"Keep fighting!" Raphael hollered, digging his sai into the chest of one of the ninja. "We don't have another choice!"
"I didn't ask you, Raphael!"
"Raphael's right," Leonardo grunted, yanking his katana back out of the winding grip of a chain. "There is no way out. We must fight on!"
April pressed back against the wall, shrinking as small as she could. She inched down the hallway, further away from the fighting, heart pounding in her throat, palms clammy, wincing at the wailing sirens, still screaming from all sides. She kicked through dismantled mechanical parts of robots, stepping down the hallway, trying to stay out of the way. Her hand grazed a rougher part of the wall, and she froze, turning her head to look at it.
She had reached one of the doors further down the hallway.
Her sharp eyes widened and she spun around, ducking to avoid a flying robotic arm, wincing at the noise of the fight melding with the shrieking alarm. Her sharp eyes took in the corners of the door, searching fruitlessly for a knob or a handle.
Nothing.
April frowned, sliding her palms around the edges of the doorway as high as she could reach before crouching to inspect the bottom. Her gaze traveled the length of the door again, as carefully as she could manage.
There.
Mounted on the side of the door was what looked like a calculator. April shot to her feet, tracing her manicured fingernails over the sides of the panel. It had to be the way in, or more accurately, the way out of the trap.
Her fingers hovered helplessly over the keypad as her mind raced. With no passcode, the panel was as good as useless.
To her, anyway.
She whirled, eyes lighting up as she shouted over the din back down the hallway. "Donatello! I think I found a way out! I just need a combination!"
Donatello swept the legs out from under another ninja, driving his staff through its head. He chanced a glance in April's direction as sparks flew from the felled robot. His eyes widened. "Perfect!" His face fell just as quickly as it had brightened. "But it could take hours to crack that!"
"Try fifteen seconds, chum!" Raphael cried, pointing down the hallway with one of his sais. "More on the way!"
April swung back around, watching as the furthermost doors down the hall slid open, parting to allow a swarm of robotic soldiers down the hallway like a wave.
Leonardo raised his katanas, breathing hard. "Donatello, can you crack it?"
Donatello's eyes hadn't left the keypad. "I think so." He bent down, pulling his staff from the head of the ninja at his feet, and scooping up his discarded weapon, a katana blade. "Can you hold them off on their own?"
"Guess we'll have to," Raphael grunted. He crouched, brandishing his sais. "Make it quick, Donatello."
"Yeah. I'm all for exercise, but this is too much of a workout, even for me," Michelangelo panted.
"I'll try." Donatello leapt over the fallen robots, darting to April's side, raising the sword he'd snatched and bringing it down on the panel, prying the pad off and revealing the wires underneath. He dropped the sword at his feet, shoving the bo-staff back into the sheath on his shell as he knelt, inspecting the wires.
April stepped towards him, leaning over his shoulder. "Can I do anything to help?"
"Not unless you have any idea how to pick an electronic lock." Donatello glanced up. "You can help watch my shell, though."
"Huh?"
"My back."
"Oh." April bent down, scooping up the katana, holding it in both hands awkwardly as she faced away from the door. The weapon felt alien in her hands, unnatural as she raised it, holding it at her waist. Her grip tightened, white-knuckled around the handle as she froze, staring down the hallway as the ninjas rushed, with horribly precise movements, towards the cluster of turtles. She stepped back, pressing against the other side of the door, hands trembling around the handle of the unfamiliar weapon, heart still in her throat. "How long is this going to take?!" Her voice was unsteady, higher pitched than usual.
"I don't know, I've never done this before!"
"Keep them away from Donatello!" Leonardo cried, surging forward to meet the wave of enemies in the middle. Raphael plunged ahead beside him, teeth bared, sais flashing in and out of the oncoming army. Michelangelo leapt over him, hollering, nunchucks whirling, forcing ninja out of his way as he landed.
One of the robots stumbled out of Michelangelo's path, righting itself a foot from April's position. She barely even thought, her arms already moving, thrusting the blade through the shoulder and part of the chest of the machine, jolting as the sword struck metal. The shriek of the machinery was drowned out amongst the horrific alarms still blaring, making her head ring. Her arms ached with the force as she pushed the sword through, then yanked it out, gasping as the robot collapsed, arms and legs still working, whirring and clanking.
"Now, Donatello!" Raphael's voice rose above the fight, invisible under a cluster of Foot robots.
"I think I've got it!" Donatello held up two wires before him, determination and uncertainty warring for the dominant expression on his face. "Here goes nothing!"
He squeezed his eyes shut, and thrust the wires together.
Spike's hands were shaking so hard, she could barely punch in the code for the Shredder's arenal.
She took a step back, glancing up and down the hallway as the door slid open, heart hammering in her chest. The sirens hadn't stopped wailing, a constant reminder that any second, the Shredder's forces would be on top of them. Since Spike had smashed through her cell wall, she'd been in plain view of the security cameras set up along the hallways.
It was only a matter of time before the Foot robots caught up to them. They had to move fast.
Behind her, the rat-mutant craned his neck, surveying the hallway as well. "I do not believe this attention is meant for us," he murmured.
Spike turned her head, glancing at Yoshi over her shoulder. "Who else'd it be for? We broke out. 'Less Shredder just figures we've got no chance of gettin' outta here."
"While Oruku Saki may be arrogant, I do not believe he would be so foolish as to allow us to wander. It is possible something else has his attention." Yoshi's ears twitched as he glanced meaningfully towards the open doorway to the armory. "Still, I believe it best if we hurry."
Spike nodded, giving the hallway one last sweep before stepping forward, into the Shredder's arsenal.
The battalion of Foot robots were gone, leaving an unsettling emptiness in the space they would have filled. The walls were emptier than they had been before, devoid of at least half of the weapons that had been hanging there before.
Warning bells rang out in the back of Spike's head, almost as loud as the sirens still blaring through the Technodrome's bare hallways. Her gut churned, a constant reminder that they weren't out of danger yet. Something had happened, but the more she thought about it, the more Yoshi's words sounded right.
Whatever was going on, the Shredder's forces were somewhere else.
At the very least, whatever was keeping his attention was a good distraction.
Spike raised her gaze, eyes roving over the walls full of weapons, skipping over the swords, chains, fans, nunchucks, staffs and sais, lighting on the kanabō that had been taken from her before she'd been locked up. She stepped into the room, reaching out with one hand to wrap around the weapon's handle, swinging it off of the pegs.
Unarmed, in her condition, she didn't stand a chance in a fight if the Shredder's forces did catch up to them. Armed, her odds weren't much better.
Still, it was better than nothing.
Spike gripped the kanabō, feeling the comfortable weight. Her mouth set in a hard, grim line as she turned, resting the kanabō over her right shoulder, looking at the rat-mutant in the hall. "Y' want anythin'?"
Yoshi shook his head. "Our best chance is to escape using speed and stealth. We are greatly outnumbered. Fighting will get us nowhere."
Spike ducked back through the doorway, eyeing the rat skeptically. "Maybe," she rumbled. "Sure feel better with a weapon, though. C'mon."
She turned, starting to lope down the hallway, away from the arsenal. The dull thud of her boots almost swallowed up the thinner sound of Yoshi's claws on the floor behind her, just a tad slower, both noises nearly drowned by the sirens.
"What do we do now?"
"We find an exit, blow this joint, an' get to April before she tries anythin' stupid," Spike grunted. "We got the passcode. All we need is the right door."
She glanced down the hallway, scowling.
There were hundreds of doors. It would take hours for them to test them all, and a miracle for the Shredder's robots to miss them doing it. The odds of them making it out were slim.
That was the last thought she had before the doors started to open.
All down the hallway, every door yawned open, revealing empty rooms as far as she could see. Any second, she expected Foot soldiers to come pouring out of a doorway, ready to cut her down here, after all this effort.
Spike screeched to a halt, pale as salt, pupils dilating. Her blood rushed, ice cold, lungs constricting as she stared back down the hallway, frantically whirling. At her back, Yoshi stopped as well, tail twitching.
"I wonder what this is about," he mused quietly.
Spike raised her chin, shaking the fringe of coarse, blood-encrusted hair out of her eyes. She turned around, glancing at Yoshi, hardening her features as she tightened her grip on the weapon over her shoulder. Her gut was twisting, instincts screaming that they were in danger. "C'mon. We've gotta get outta here," she rumbled hoarsely.
"Great idea, Sanchez."
The voice came from behind her, thick and low, stopping Spike cold. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Yoshi, lowering his head as he studied the newcomer. He shifted, eyeing Spike as her jaw ground, muscles bunching.
Her free fist clenched at her side as she turned back around, slowly, leather creaking.
The figure at the end of the hall held a katana blade loosely in his left hand, dried blood coating his right shoulder. His right jawline bore twin vertical marks, left by the same weapon that had marred Spike's own face. The dried blood on his shoulder only slightly obscured the tattoo there:
The mark of the Purple Dragon.
Spike's lip curled in a snarl.
"Hun."
Donatello shot to his feet, reaching behind him to grab his bo-staff as the door before them slid open. "Got it!"
"That ain't all you got! Look!" Raphael pointed down the hallway with his sai. "What'd you do, Donatello?!"
Every door as far as the eye could see slowly gaped open. Uncountable numbers of Foot soldiers spilled out, weapons raised, jerkily marching down the long, slim bottleneck.
"I must have tripped the door controls for the entire Technodrome," Donatello mused sheepishly. He turned, hollering back towards his brothers. "Come on! Hurry!"
"Don't have to tell me twice, dude!" Michelangelo cried, leaping over the head of a Foot soldier. He dove into a roll, smoothly springing up beside Donatello, turning to face the onslaught of enemies, nunchucks tucked at his side.
"You first, April." Donatello twirled his staff, lining up to strike at the chest-panel of a Foot robot that got too close. "We'll be right behind you!"
He didn't have to tell her twice, either.
April turned, plunging through the open doorway, katana clutched tightly in her right hand. She turned her head, swinging her head wildly from either side, trying to see everything at once.
She was standing in another long hallway identical to the one they had just left, minus the oncoming horde of robotic soldiers. Lining the walls were more open doors, revealing cavernous blackness in each room.
April took another step into the hallway as the four turtles tumbled in behind her. Leonardo backed in, swords at the ready, facing the Foot soldiers as he pressed into the hallway.
"Can't you get the doors closed again?" he barked.
"Sorry, Leonardo, I think I fried the system," Donatello shouted back, fumbling with the panel mounted on the other side of the door. "I might be able to get this one closed again, but that'd still leave all the other doors in the Technodrome wide open! At best, we'd stall them-"
"Then stall them!" Raphael bellowed. He turned, adjusting his grip on his sais as he wedged himself into the doorway beside Leonardo, slicing his sai down through a Foot robot's head.
"Right on, just hurry it up!" Michelangelo added, shouldering in behind his brothers. "I'll be the second line of defense!"
April stepped up to Donatello's shoulder, peering over his shell to stare with bewilderment at the mass of wiring embedded into the rectangular metal panel. Donatello's seemingly clumsy fingers danced over the wires, knotting them together and prying them apart in seconds.
"Done!" he shouted, stepping back. Leonardo and Raphael leapt backward just in time as the door slammed shut between them and the Foot soldiers on the other side. In between the panels of the door, a lone metallic arm jutted, unable to break through, unable to pull back.
"Good job," Leonardo huffed, turning around. He glanced down the slightly curved corridor, then up at the ceiling. "Cameras," he noted quietly.
"Do you want me to disable them?" Donatello asked, following his gaze.
"We don't have time for this!" April burst out. "The Shredder already knows we're in here! What good is that going to do?"
"It might help if he doesn't know exactly where we are, ever think of that one, sister?" Raphael retorted. "I'm not fond of the wait either, but-"
"April's right," Michelangelo interrupted, spinning one nunchuck absently. "I mean, look at all those cameras, man. It'd take forever to take down every single one of 'em!"
Leonardo looked to Donatello. "Any way you could do what you did with the doors, shut them all off at once?"
Donatello shrugged, rubbing the back of his scaly head. "That was an accident. I have no idea if I'd be able to do it again, or how much time it would take."
April threw her hands in the air. "Spike could be dead by then!"
"She could be dead already," Raphael pointed out.
April rounded on him, a red flush creeping up her face as her heart rate climbed. "You don't know that!" she exploded.
Raphael shrugged one shoulder. "No, but it's a possibility."
"Cool it, Raphael," Leonardo said sharply. "I'm afraid April's right. We don't have time to rewire the cameras." He glanced meaningfully at Donatello.
The purple-masked turtle's eyes widened, a grin plastered across his beak. "Right!" He reached into a pouch in his belt, removing a handful of small, sharp objects. "Everybody duck!" He drew his arm back, eyeing one of the cameras before thrusting his arm forward, one of the objects clutched between his fingers.
April spun on her heel, squinting as she followed the trajectory of the throw, eyes widening abruptly as it embedded into the camera.
"Wait for it," Donatello murmured, stepping back.
An instant later, the camera exploded with a roaring boom. April's hands flew over her ears a second too late, eyes widening as the flaming wreckage fell with a crash to the hall floor.
"That's one," Donatello said. He opened his palm, revealing the remainder of the tiny explosives. "Unfortunately, I don't have enough shurikens to take out every camera."
"That's fine! We'll be so fast, they won't have time to track us!" Michelangelo turned, already half bounding down the hallway. "Come on guys!"
The other three turtles burst into a light run, April scrambling to keep up behind them. She craned her neck, gaze sweeping the hallway, traveling from doorway to doorway. Spike could be in any one of those rooms, hurt, or worse.
The thought spurred her legs to move, striding quickly down the hallway, as she continued to glance from room to room, heart in her throat, palms slick on the katana handle.
Each room was identical: small, featureless, and most importantly, empty. Every last door seemed a disappointment, another nail in the coffin-
No, don't think about that!
Raphael's words echoed louder with every step, forcing their way into her head. She could be dead already.
April shook her head, mind racing as she looked down the long corridor, full of open doors, thin eyebrows drawing together. She blocked out the sound of the alarms, the nose of the turtles's chatter, eyes darting between identical cells on either side as she followed the turtles around the rounded corner of the hall.
She peered ahead, over the heads of the turtles', straining to see further down the corridor, sharp eyes training over each door as quickly as she could manage, only half concentrating on keeping up with the turtles.
Frustration clouded her thoughts, a crushing sense of urgency forcing her to glance back over the doorways again, looking for something she'd missed. Every room was the same, doors agape revealing a small featureless cell. The compound was so structurally identical that April would have no idea if they were making any progress if it weren't for the closed door behind them, getting further and further away.
April bit her lower lip as they passed indistinguishable walls and entryways, triple checking ahead one more time-
"Wait!"
Without thinking, she burst into a run, sprinting down the corridor, sharp eyes fixed on one particular door, the only break in the identical pattern as far as the eye could see, pushing past Donatello.
"Hey! Where are you going?" he cried.
April barely heard him, eyes fixed on the doorway just past Michelangelo. A different doorway.
One cell door hadn't opened all the way. It was stuck, a gap in the center where the doors would have met.
She staggered to a halt, bracing a hand on the doorway as she stared at the shorn metal, torn apart, preventing the doors from closing all the way. The doors had been almost peeled apart, torn open from the inside.
April stared through the hole, searching the floor, the walls, taking in the blood-smears on the smooth metal surface, heart climbing in her throat, choking out any attempt to speak. She was vaguely aware of Leonardo's presence behind her, silently taking in the damaged cell himself.
Hope and despair battled in her chest, fighting for control as April shook her head, fighting the hot tears threatening to overflow. She closed her eyes, biting down harder on her lower lip. She took a deep breath, pushing herself away from the doorway.
"She's still here," she murmured. She turned, looking at Leonardo. "She has to be."
Leonardo nodded wordlessly. "If she is, we will find her." He reached up, placing a hand on April's shoulder. "But we don't have time to worry."
April nodded again, more forcefully this time. "You're right. Let's keep moving."
"I think this might be a prison cell block," Donatello mused, scrutinizing the cell beside them. He glanced up at April. "If that's the case, your friend should be close."
"Hey, guys!" Michelangelo called. He turned, looking back at them from where he stood, several feet ahead, staring through a doorway. "I found another hallway!"
"Great, Michelangelo. Are you doing the weather next?" Raphael snapped.
"No, guys, listen!" Michelangelo pointed down the new hallway, widening his eyes. "I found Master Splinter!"
Hey guys, I'm sorry this is so late! School and the whole quarantine thing have been really rough (and so has Camp NaNo), so it took me a little longer to get this one written. Please let me know what you think in a review, it really helps me write, and I hope to see you all in the next chapter! Stay healthy!