After so long in the blindingly bright white of the Technodrome, the darkness of the tunnel was unreal, like jumping back into a distant memory. Even the stench of sewer was preferable to the overly-clean scent of nothingness ever-present in the Shredder's metal prison.
Spike hit the ground with a thud, pain shooting up her legs, shaking off the eerie sense of déjà vu.
She staggered, slightly, before standing upright, craning her neck to peer upwards at the belly of the Technodrome now over her head. She took a step back, away from the thick, powerful treads, desperately stomping down the tendrils of guilt and fear that wound their way around her chest, tightening her throat as a hundred regrets swarmed her at once.
She should have made April go first. April should have been down here to meet her-
No.
April shouldn't have been here at all.
Spike ground her teeth, every nerve on end as she squinted through swollen eyes at the belly of the huge, spherical tank, heart beating double-time, pulse rushing as panic fought with exhaustion to overtake her senses.
Where is she?!
After what felt like an eternity, April's boots appeared, dangling from the hole above before she dropped, landing awkwardly an inch away from the huge treads. Spike lunged forward, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, grasping April's shoulder with one hand, the kanabō dangling heavily from her other.
"You alright?"
"Fine," April gasped. She lifted her head, peering up through the darkness into Spike's face. "You?"
Spike shrugged one shoulder, grimacing. "Fine."
It was a lie, of course, and not even a good one. And April knew it.
It was a familiar back-and-forth, a well-known lie that Spike had told, again and again every time she'd come home, beaten black-and-blue, from a fight. No matter how well Spike convinced Angel, or the other fighters, that she wasn't hurt, that she'd shrugged off the blows, pretending her skin was steel, she could never fool April.
Least of all now.
In the darkness, in her condition, she couldn't see April's expression, but her voice came through loud and strong:
"I'm serious." April paused. "Are you okay?"
Spike shifted, turning her face away, working her jaw. "I've been worse."
"No. You haven't." April's voice softened as she reached up, clasping Spike's thick forearm with her smaller hand. "Where are the turtles and Splinter?"
"Over here!"
April whipped around, focusing on the side of the dirt tunnel where their mutant allies stood as the red-masked turtle stepped forward, cocking his head.
"Not bad, April. You're a fast talker. I'm almost impressed."
"That was awesome!" the orange-masked turtle cheered. "You totally saved us!"
Hamato Yoshi nodded from where he stood, leaning on the red-masked turtle's arm. "Indeed, April. It seems my sons underestimated you," he murmured. His gaze slid over, focusing on Spike, his black eyes glittering in what light there was. That piercing, unsettling gaze seemed to go right through her, as though he'd known her as long as April had. "Both of you."
April let out a sigh. "I didn't know if it'd work," she admitted. "Thank goodness they aren't too smart."
"Agreed. But the Shredder is." The rat's voice echoed, somehow calm despite the circumstances.
The memory of the Shredder's cold, calculating tone filled Spike's head, so clearly she could almost hear it.
"He's right," she rumbled. "Don't matter what y'convinced the Dragons, the Shredder'll bribe 'em or threaten 'em into comin' after us."
A thud in the soft dirt behind them signaled the arrival of the one armed with the stick, wearing a purple mask. Spike clumsily turned, watching as he bounded towards them. "They're coming through the door!" he cried. "They'll be on us in moments!"
"We need to move, fast!" The blue-masked turtle dropped down beside him, holding a sword in either hand. He pointed ahead with one, glancing up over his shell at the Technodrome. "C'mon! To the surface!"
The turtles took off at a dead run, the red-masked turtle helping along Hamato Yoshi. April burst into a sprint, heels striking the packed dirt, kicking it up onto Spike's torn jeans as she took an unsteady step forward, hands clenched around the handle of her stolen weapon, hanging heavily, the head nearly brushing the ground.
She couldn't run anymore. Her might was spent, whittled away from tearing the door, from forcing off what felt like hundreds of Foot robots, of beating Hun to the smear that he deserved to be. She couldn't do it again.
She could hear the clanking of machinery behind her, the familiar hiss of a door opening, a rectangular beam of light projected, striking in the dark tunnel, framing her in it. Her shadow stretched long, a large figure, bent, shaky.
No. Not again.
She wouldn't be captured again. She'd put April in enough danger already.
One boot down. She planted her weight, pitching herself forward, teeth gritted as she pushed off, into one last push. Just one last push, she told herself. Almost free.
The bitter, organic smell of the earth, of sewer, grew stronger as she forced her head up, eyes fixed on the never-ending far tunnel. They had to be almost out. Her skin itched to feel the cool, smog-filled air of the surface, take in the city, whether it was day or night.
The ramp was extending behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as her stomach lurched, chest tightening.
She was so focused on the end of the tunnel that for a minute, she didn't notice April turning and running back until she had her hand on her sleeve, tugging her forward, shouting encouraging words that echoed off of the dirt walls.
With strength that Spike didn't know she had, April yanked her down the tunnel, her arm stretching to reach around her broad back, straining to reach as she steadied her.
They were nowhere near an end point that Spike could see when she felt it - an air current, the frigid December air of New York City, wafting down from a hole above. As April pulled her to a halt, Spike craned her neck to see where the air was coming from.
There was a hole in the underground ceiling above them, letting in a stiff breeze and the cold lights of New York City.
"How do we get up there?" April asked, gently shifting herself out from underneath Spike's arm.
"Easy! We jump!" The orange-masked turtle, Michelangelo, grinned before sprinting for the nearer wall, extending his leg to hit the side, propelling himself upward, grasping the edge of the hole. He neatly curled his body in on itself, flipping his body up and through, spinning around to extend his hand. "C'mon, April!"
April glanced up, then at Raphael. "Splinter?"
"Do not worry about me, child," the rat assured her. "Get to safety."
April nodded, tilting her head back to look up at the hole. She turned her head, glancing at Spike. "Can you boost me?"
Spike nodded, dropping her weapon onto the dirt floor to cup her calloused hands at waist height. "Hurry," she rumbled, her voice sounding tight.
April jumped, her weight landing into Spike's hands as Spike heaved up, launching her upwards, arms outstretched. Michelangelo's hands latched around April's wrists.
"Got her!" he cried, tugging her upwards. April's legs kicked and scrabbled as she slowly hauled herself out of the hole. The second she was on solid ground, she turned, anxiously peering back down, her head backlit by streetlights.
"Spike?"
Spike took a step forward, before pausing.
"Heads up," she barked, grabbing her stolen weapon. April's eyes widened as she pulled back, away from the hole. Spike wound back before releasing, muscles protesting as she threw the kanabō straight up.
A split second later, a telltale thud announced its landing on the ground above.
Michelangelo reappeared in the hole, reaching his arm down. "C'mon! I'll pull you up!"
Spike nodded wordlessly before she crouched, gathering as much strength as she could muster before pushing off, straining to grab hold of Michelangelo's outstretched arms.
"Oof!"
"Do you have her?" April's voice echoed down, full of worry. "You got her?"
"Yeah." Michelangelo's voice was strained as he planted his weight, slowly tugging upwards. "No worries, I gotcha."
April appeared over his shell, reaching down, hands clasping around one of Spike's wrists as she pulled.
A moment later, Spike clumsily tumbled onto the surface, staggering to her feet, chin raised to the skyline, the frigid breeze cutting through her leather jacket.
A second later, Hamato Yoshi scrabbled up beside her, whiskers twitching, furry face turned to look behind him as the three remaining turtles vaulted up, one at a time.
"They're coming!" Leonardo turned, glancing around him, a slightly frayed edge to his collected voice. "Can we plug up the hole?"
"Here!" April scrambled to the edge of the circle cut off by police tape, reaching for a large, black tarp.
"Oh yeah, that's gonna help a whole lot," Raphael uttered sarcastically.
"Do you have any better ideas?!" April cried.
"They're here!" Donatello shouted. "Get back!''
At first, Spike couldn't feel it. She could barely feel anything at this point, other than her own body, one large, throbbing nerve, alternatively aching and stabbing with pain. She could barely focus on anything, her mind torn between the desire to get away, to get April out of danger, or to think of some way to end this, to destroy the Technodrome, the Shredder, and his monsters.
But ass Donatello cried out, leaping back from the hole, his bo-staff already in his hands, Spike felt it.
The ground beneath Spike's boots started to tremble.
"Go! Run!" Leonardo shouted, pushing at April's back. "Take Master Splinter!"
"Yeah! We'll take care of this!" Raphael crowed, his sais already in his hands.
April dove for Hamato Yoshi, grabbing his faded sleeve and pulling him forward, glancing over her shoulder with wide eyes. "Spike!"
Spike reached down, snagging the handle of the kanabō before turning on her booted heel, forcing herself to put in just a little more effort, to hold out just a little longer-
"Say your prayers, turtles!"
Rocksteady's voice cut the air the second before the bullets did, loud gunfire shattering the noisy New York City clamor. Ahead, April yelped, dragging Splinter down behind a bench, dropping to her knees with her hands on her ears. Spike dropped beside them, arm already out, pulling April almost underneath her, shielding her.
Above the sound of machine-gun fire, Michelangelo's voice rang out, somehow louder:
"C'mon, let's annihilate these turkeys!"
Spike exhaled, turning her face away grimly. "They're dead," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Shredder's goons'll tear 'em t'pieces."
"Come on!" April cried, turning her head to peer through the slots in the bench, face frozen, as though she couldn't look away. "We have to do something!" She winced at a resounding pair of thuds, watching Raphael and Leonardo's simultaneous side-kicks land, to no effect.
"Your spirit is strong," Splinter murmured from between them. "But use caution. Shredder's new creatures are formidable, indeed."
"But we can beat them," April said sharply, head whipping around to stare, first at Splinter, then up at Spike, eyes wide, almost manic. "We've already proven that they aren't that smart. We can trap them, or something-"
Clang!
April yelped as Spike threw an arm over her, pulling her face-down to the ground as a manhole cover sailed over the bench, over their heads.
"No!" Spike's voice came out in a harsh hiss as her grip tightened around April's arm. "We gotta get you outta here. S' too dangerous-"
"I'm not leaving them!" April hissed back. "We have to do something! They saved my life, Spike. We can't just leave them to fight off these monsters!"
"Hey, didn't I see you guys in The Jungle Book?" Raphael's voice called, slightly strained.
Another rain of gunfire rang out, above a clamor of other sounds, animal roars of fear and nervousness, the sounds of large bodies shifting. Spike's head jerked up, eyebrows knit together in confusion as she turned, taking in the animal cages, the garbage cans, the light posts –
Central Park Zoo.
She'd led the Shredder here. She'd gotten captured, forced April into relying on help to get her out. If April owed these turtles her life…
Then Spike owed them too.
She swore, reluctantly letting go of April's arm and raising her head again, scanning their surroundings.
"We can't beat 'em," she muttered, the words bitter in her mouth. "Not in a straight fight. Y'hear what they're packin' out there?"
"We don't have to beat them," April said. "We just need to trap them!"
"Trap 'em how?"
April frowned, her sharp eyes darting around the dark, empty zoo. "We've got plenty of cages," she pointed out.
Splinter nodded. "We must get to one large enough to hold them."
"No problem." April dug in her pockets, rummaging. "I just need something to pick the lock…Wait!" She yanked her hands out of her pockets, eyes wide and manic as her hands dug into her hair, yanking out multiple hair pins. "Perfect!" A wild look of determination hardened her features as she turned her head, fixing Spike with an intense stare. "Okay, Spike, here's the plan. I'll get Master Splinter to safety and make for the cage. You tell the turtles the plan and try to force the monster back into the cage once we open it. Sound good?"
No.
None of it sounded good. April was relatively safe here, behind this bench. To run out there, in all the gunfire –
"Ain't gonna work."
"What? Why not?"
"How much experience you got pickin' locks?"
"We don't have another choice!" April cried. "Besides, how hard can it be?" She paused, studying Spike's face, eyes wide. "Spike, I'll be alright. I have Splinter with me. Just help me help them, and we can go home. I promise, I'll be careful."
Spike's jaw clenched, aching. Her eyes burned as she strained, carefully looking over April's resolute, grimy features.
No words came to mind. There was no way to verbalize the overwhelming, compressing feeling of dread that clenched her chest and gut, the feeling she'd been living with for days as she internally roared and railed against this plan, against anything leading to April leaving, getting out of reach from where Spike could protect her.
She couldn't say any of it.
Finally, she nodded tersely. "Stay safe," she rasped.
April nodded, features softening slightly. "You too." She raised her head, peering over the park bench for a split-second, reaching out to grab Splinter's furry arm, tugging. "Coast is clear. Come on!"
The rat lunged forward, behind her, matching her speed as they burst from behind the bench. April crouched low to the ground as she darted from garbage-can to lamp-post, bounding across the zoo towards the rhinoceros cages.
Behind the fighting.
Spike bolted to her feet behind the bench, placing one hand on the top and pushing off, vaulting over it and landing, stiffly, on the other side.
She grimaced at the impact on her battered joints before taking off at an awkward run towards the cluster of turtles, driven further back, closer to the entrance of the Central Park Zoo. Her knuckles clenched around the handle of her weapon as she loped forward, swollen eyes on the barrels of Bebop and Rocksteady's guns, spewing hot metal.
She watched Raphael dive, scooping something off of the ground and rolling to his feet, facing their attackers, clutching something in his hands. He squinted, unmoving against the spray of bullets just missing him, before reeling back, and throwing.
A small stone flew from his hand, arcing in a perfect angle into the barrel of Rocksteady's gun.
"Wha-"
Dickerson had never been smart.
The gun exploded in his leathery hands, shards of hot metal spewing back, catching on Rocksteady's clothing as he howled, stumbling back, screaming in pain.
As he did, Donatello dug his staff into the ground, using it to pole-vault, driving both feet into the rhino's chest, knocking him back another step.
"Ms. Sanchez!"
Spike swung her head, searching through the relative darkness as Leonardo leaped forward in front of her, swords drawn, facing away from her in a defensive stance. "Get to safety! You're supposed to be with Master Splinter-"
"He's with April." Spike raised her good arm, pointing unsteadily behind the two huge mutants. "They got a plan. Drive 'em back to the cages."
Leonardo paused, following her gaze, scaly forehead wrinkling. "It's a good plan," he murmured. "I don't know if we have the power for it."
"Don't need power. Jus' need t'outsmart 'em." Spike raised her club-like weapon, grasping it with both hands. "They ain't that bright, remember?"
"Good point-get down!"
Leonardo's arm flew up, digging into Spike's shoulders and yanking down, surprisingly strong, as an emission of bullets riddled the air where her head had been. The turtle threw his weight forward, pulling both of them into a roll as Michelangelo hurled a manhole-cover like a discus at Bebop's furry wrist. The warthog yelped, hand opening reflexively as the machine-gun clattered to the gravel.
"Alright. I'll tell them the plan. You stay out of the way," Leonardo murmured, clambering to his feet.
"I can fight." The response was reflex, the result of years of training to never stay down, no matter how much it hurt.
And it did hurt.
Her broken nose was making breathing more difficult than usual. The marks where the Shredder had torn open her face were steadily throbbing. She could barely see, especially in the relative darkness, and the rest of her body was a testament to days of beatings.
Angel's voice was in her ear, telling her to get up, to get going, to keep fighting. Spike slowly hauled herself to her feet beside Leonardo, staring down at him, inhaling through her mouth and broadening her shoulders, making herself appear still larger, towering over the reptilian teenager.
"I ain't tappin' out 'til April's safe," she said, voice harder and colder than ice.
Leonardo's gaze was almost as sharp and piercing as his master's, his eyes darting between Spike and the action before them as Donatello and Raphael clipped Rocksteady simultaneously with their weapons, spinning him off balance.
"April wasn't kidding about you," he said at last. "Not the damsel type. Okay. Distract them. Start making for the cages. We'll watch your back. There's a good chance these guys will go after you. Ready?"
Spike barely had time to register the words before Leonardo was bounding back in, katanas raised as he cried out over his shell: "Go!"
She turned, taking off at an awkward dead run, the weapon clutched in her aching hands. Her boots kicked up gravel as her path curved widely around Bebop and Rocksteady, coming behind them and making for the cages, where April's dim outline could be seen, crouched by the bars and working steadily at something in her hand.
Behind her, Leonardo's voice rang out, exaggeratedly loud and bombastic:
"It doesn't matter what you do to us! Your former prisoner is running to call the cops, and once the calvary gets here, you're done for!"
April's new allies were sharper than they looked. And faster.
Spike strained over her own panting to listen for the slow turns of the heavy mutants, signaled by the crunch of gravel under their boots, waiting for the moment they'd start running-
"Get her!"
Rocksteady's bellow split the night air. By the cages, April's head jerked up, eyes wide, before she hurriedly turned back to her task, hands moving even faster, movements frantic and jerky.
Just get there-
"Yeah, c'mon guys! The party's over here!"
Michelangelo's voice crowed in her ear as he landed, light as a feather, already running as he hit the dirt by Spike's elbow. He turned, grinning over his shoulder at the mutants and gesturing them onward before turning and waving his hand at Spike.
"Their guns are gone, no worries," he whispered.
"You're dead meat, Sanchez!"
"They don't need 'em," Spike muttered back.
"We've got your back," Raphael huffed from her right flank, sais spinning in his hands. "Hope April's ready for this."
"She'll be ready."
The words came out forceful on each puff of air, hard and sharp. She could feel the earth shaking under each step from the mutants, could hear Leonardo and Donatello shouting, herding the monsters for the cages. Closer to the ground by April's waist, the rat crouched, raising his head and looking at them with sharp, bright eyes.
The rat nodded as April jerked back with a cry of triumph, and the gate swung open –
"Now!"
Leonardo's voice rose above the clamor from the rear as Raphael and Michelangelo dropped back, shoving at the bigger mutants as Spike pitched off course, veering, collapsing into a clumsy roll as behind her, heavy footsteps thundered past, too fast to stop. She couldn't see, couldn't twist around fast enough to see if April was safe, if she'd gotten out of the way.
Her mouth was full of dirt, dry and gritty on her parched tongue. Spike spat gravel out, grimacing at the feeling of the rocks dragging against her torn face as she shoved herself to her knees, head swinging around, forcing her swollen eyes as wide as she could, searching for April in the dark.
The redhead was just visible under the lights, cringing back by the cage as the gate swung shut with a clang, Leonardo and Raphael holding it fast as Donatello plucked the slim bobby pin from April's fingers and dove at the padlock. Behind the bars, the rhinoceros roared, charging its mutant cousin and the warthog, who threw themselves against the bars, bellowing death threats.
It all happened in the span of less than thirty seconds.
Donatello pulled back, a bright smile on his face. "We did it!"
Raphael stepped forward, a sarcastic bent to his beak. "Now you boys have fun together, and we'll be back to check on ya, in about ten years."
"You won't get away with this! Shredder won't jus' leave us here!" Bebop roared, rattling the cages. Behind him, Rocksteady turned, slamming his fist into the side of the rhino's head, attempting to shove it back.
"I think you have more faith in your master than you should," Leonardo said. He stepped away, already bending down to help the rat. "Master Splinter, are you alright?"
"They aren't getting through these bars anytime soon," Donatello remarked proudly. He rapped on the side of the cage. "Besides, that rhino will keep them busy until the cops show up."
Spike barely heard him, barely heard any of it. She remained on her knees, guts heaving, arms shaking under her weight as her vision blurred over.
She could feel herself falling, felt her strength giving out, but somehow she never hit the ground. Something was around her torso, holding her up with surprising strength. There was a wavering voice in her ear, repeating a few phrases over and over again: You did it, we're safe, we can go home, I'm so glad you're alive-
Spike slumped into April's grip, head falling heavily onto her shoulder, smearing her shirt with blood. She could feel drops of water falling onto her head, salt-water stinging the cuts as April cried, slim fingers digging into the leather of her jacket.
Overhead, there was a loud, distant shout, and the sky lit up like a lightning storm as a thousand cracks, snaps and explosions went off. She remembered the sound: fireworks.
Fireworks?
Spike lifted her face, letting the multicolored light wash over her as April's tears turned to laughter, grip tightening as she started to shiver, the cold setting in.
"Happy New Year, Spike," she whispered. "Let's go home."
Thank you guys so much for reading! 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, and last, chapter! Stay healthy!