Part 5
Raphael left his motorcycle behind a wrought iron fence around an apartment complex. Few people could pick up the heavy machine and drop it over the fence, and if they managed to lift it from behind there, he'd hear their heart explode from a block away. He couldn't help a little puff of pride in his own strength.
He went up to the rooftops first, scanning the dark expanse above the city, looking up and down the street. Finding one thief—one very stealthy thief, he grudgingly admitted—in all of New York would be an insane task...if he hadn't been smart about it.
He'd asked Donatello for help, bearing up under his brother's poorly hidden snickers as he ran a few searches online. For once, Donatello offered no extra help except to type in exactly what Raphael wanted, saying "no no, Raph, I refuse to speculate as I don't want to compromise your investigation."
Whatever that meant. Raphael didn't need help. He printed a map of the Ghost's thefts and marked them out, then scribbled down the places he'd run into him. Or her, he thought, although when he wondered that out loud, Donatello had choked on his coffee again.
The map gave him a surprisingly small area to concentrate on. For all the wealth that New York had to offer, the Ghost kept to the lower side of Manhattan, a little bit of Brooklyn, and of course the park. That cut it down a lot, but still...he sighed, putting his foot up on the ledge. He wasn't likely to find his thief just like that. He was more likely to spot random wannabe badasses and...
His eyes narrowed.
A couple of young men in yellow and black headed down the street, meeting up with a handful more on the corner. They exchanged hand signs, nodded at each other, lit a couple of cigarettes. Then all of them continued on, walking with purposeful stride.
Raphael followed above, moving as quietly as the armor would let him. Back when he'd first created his armor, he hadn't understood Donatello's snide comment that "even a ninja takes a negative five to his sneak skill with armor like that." Then Raphael had taken his first few steps, clanking like a broken engine. Although he'd padded the bottom of his boots, the armor tended to rattle, but not so much that he couldn't fade into the background noise of the city.
The gang turned down into an alley. Raphael caught up, peering over the side of the building. And frowned.
They'd all disappeared.
"Since when are Latin Kings freakin' ninjas?" he muttered.
He looked again, but there was nothing there except a dumpster, a pile of garbage, a busted light on the wall... Maybe they'd gone inside one of the rusty access doors?
Climbing while wearing the armor was not easy, but he had the upper body strength to clamber down to the street—first snap out his chain, sling the weighted end around the utility pole in the center, then drop down onto the dumpster—
Footsteps came into the alley.
Bullets suddenly swarmed the air.
Raphael had the briefest glimpse of yellow and black from behind the dusty windows shattering out onto the pavement, a flash of men crouching and firing back at the windows. Latin Kings had ambushed Diablo Puerto, and Raphael was caught in the crossfire—peppered with concrete and glass and ricochets bouncing off his armor.
In the confusion, Raphael brought his arms up, guarding himself with the heavier plates of steel as he sprang backwards. His shell slammed against a door, breaking through the strong hinges, and he fell into the safer darkness of an empty stairwell. Coughing, he clambered back to his feet, dusting off the wood chunks and concrete dust.
"So that's what it looks like," he grumbled, "before it's dead devils in the street."
Not that he cared if they shot themselves to pieces, but a bullet didn't care who it hit and stray bullets traveled far. He spotted a yellow and black blur running by the door, followed by several more, including one that staggered and fell, curled up around a stomach shot.
Taking a deep breath, Raphael grabbed the door and charged out, grunting as he flung it into the running shooters on his left. There were two more to his right, separated from their crew, and he put the back of his fist into one's face, kicking the gun out of the second one's hand.
Shots rang from the men to his left. Raphael dove behind the dumpster, wincing as bullets punched through the metal and blew past him. He turned and put his shoulder against it, gritting his teeth as he pushed with all his might, rattled as a bullet came through but deflected off his armor. The wheels underneath screeched through rust and grime, turning slowly, then gathering speed as it moved. He pushed it a step, then another, then another, and then finally it was rolling free, barreling down the alley and grinding through whoever was on the other side.
The shots briefly stopped, and then like a shooting gallery, someone popped up in a window to his right. Raphael hissed a breath, turning far too slowly, trying to throw himself out of the way.
The bullet caught him on the side, grazing his armor and leaving a curved notch on his shell. The near miss still threw him back against the wall, and as he slid down, he saw not the shooter but the gun barrel pointing straight at his helmet, as large as a canon.
Something smashed both the gun and the shooter back and out of sight. Raphael blinked, startled that the man had seemingly just vanished. He scrambled back to his feet and looked down the alley—
The Ghost had his back to him, facing the gang and flinging something that glinted in the light. Raphael squinted, trying to see, and then the Ghost turned around and faced him.
Raphael snarled in frustration. The light was behind the Ghost, making it impossible to see his face.
"I ain't gonna thank ya!" Raphael yelled. "You're just as bad as they are!"
The Ghost regarded him for a moment, not saying anything, then looked around himself at the walls. Raphael had the feeling that the thief was looking for a way out and realized that, if the Ghost had dropped from the roof, he hadn't planned for an escape route. There were no easy handholds up and out of the alley.
"You're stuck down here," Raphael realized.
The Ghost took a half step back, then realized that was a mistake and tried to stop. That only made his uncertainty all the more obvious. Raphael took a step toward him.
"Don't try to run—"
The Ghost turned and ran.
"Dammit!"
Raphael gave chase, leaping the dumpster and stomping over the fallen gangs, crunching fingers and knees under his metal boots. The groans and yells of pain faded as he burst onto the sidewalk, following the flutter of the Ghost's cloak around the corner.
In a straight chase, the Ghost had the distinct advantage of not hauling ninety pounds of steel. Raphael's armor probably would have flattened his siblings if they'd tried to run in it, and even Raphael had his limits. Fortunately he had something to level their playing field.
Raphael snapped his chain from his forearm and slung it forward like a shot, missing the Ghost by a hair's breadth. The Ghost startled to the left, stumbling before catching himself and darting across the empty street.
The chain audibly retracted and locked into place again, and this time Raphael swung it in a wide arc just above the Ghost. As the thief started to climb up a rain gutter, the chain tore through the air and took out a chunk of the pipe, sending him crashing back to the ground.
"Quit running," Raphael warned him, retracting the chain again. "Or the next one's going through your head."
Finally the Ghost turned, his left arm up as if he hid a weapon beneath the cloak. Raphael grit his teeth. In the gold light from the streetlamps, he had a good look at the cloak, really just a glorified scarf, but it covered the thief's smaller frame well and Raphael still couldn't see under the hood.
"Stay put..." Raphael said slowly. "Good little thief. No one wants to sit in jail with their face busted, right?"
The hood turned slightly as if considering that.
"You really like the silent mysterious schtick, huh?" Raphael reached back into a zipped pouch, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "Now just keep standing still..."
As Raphael came closer, the Ghost backed up until he hit the wall. Even without seeing his eyes, Raphael knew the Ghost was focused only on those handcuffs. Raphael swallowed once. This was the dangerous part, getting closer while his target turned into a cornered animal—
Leonardo panicked.
The handcuffs were far more threatening than the chain, but both were horribly dangerous, and danger meant attack.
He leaped, feinted to one side and dodging back only when he heard the chain release click. The delay cost him a precious second that sent him sprawling as the chain's weight struck his shoulder. Immediately the shock numbed his whole left arm, but he grabbed the chain in his other hand, yanking hard.
Still attached to the chain, Raphael went sprawling forward on his hands and knees.
"Son of a bitch—!"
Likewise, Leonardo swore a string of curses to himself, angry that he'd put himself in this situation, and he gave his brother a swift kick against his thigh that forced Raphael nearly flat for just an instant. Then Leonardo was running again, back the way they'd come, stepping again on the gangs who groaned in further misery. A vault over the dumpster, then a hard right turn through the doorway Raphael had smashed.
A crash and scream of rage told him that Raphael had just punched the dumpster against the wall.
Up the stairs two at a time, stumbling and hitting his shins on the edge of the steps, pulling himself up with the railing—he smashed any light he passed, leaving a trail of darkness in his wake. Behind him, Raphael swore while hitting more steps simply because of the armor's weight and the thick shadows. Fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth—
The top door was locked—Leonardo kicked it once, twice—it refused to give, rattling tantalizingly against a firm latch. Leonardo grabbed the stair railing for leverage as he kicked both feet against it, finally breaking the latch. He landed awkwardly, lunging forward and rolling just as Raphael reached out and missed his scarf.
"Oh no you don't—"
Raphael couldn't swing the chain in such a tight space. Leonardo darted wildly over the rooftop, taking the ledge at a full sprint before he knew where he was jumping. He landed two stories down on the next roof, sprinting again even as he put his hand on his shoulder to try to stop it throbbing. There was a heavy thump as Raphael followed, slowing as he started to huff with exertion.
Yes, Leonardo thought. I'm faster. Just keep dodging, keep running—
His heart pounded in his chest so loud that he could hear it over his harsh breathing. He felt like he was covered in ice and burning up, and his shoulder screamed and his lungs were going to shred—he was gasping hard and he had never felt so alive than that moment. He heard the chain's click and rolled right, feeling the air crack as the chain swung ineffectually over him again.
When he leaped from the roof, he didn't care that he was plunging straight toward a window. His cloak felt like wings—he was thirty feet up and flying—
He curled into a ball and hit the window with his injured shoulder, crunching glass under his shell before coming back up in a run. An alarm blared as he tore through the offices, leaping desks lightly as he ran toward the ceiling-to-floor windows ahead of him. Halfway there he heard another thump—Raphael still on his heels, but farther now, slowing down.
Leonardo picked up an office chair and flung it at the far window, smashing the glass for an easy jump—
The lights came on.
Leonardo had ducked behind a desk before he realized it, covering himself with his scarf as the harsh fluorescent lights blinded him. The lights were part of the security system, he thought, and Raphael was still barreling toward him.
"Got you now!" Raphael yelled, crashing straight through desks.
An elevator dinged. Leonardo darted toward the sound, staying low and screaming internally at how much time it cost him to crouch. Footsteps came running, throwing a door open so hard that it hit the wall—
Finally able to see clearly, Leonardo vaulted over the two security guards. Giving up the elevator as too slow, he went through the door and found himself in another stairwell. This time the climb was harder, and his arm burned as air stung his cuts. The jump through the window hadn't been as harmless as he thought. He held his arm to his side, hoping that his wounds there were shallower than he guessed.
No one was following. He smashed the lights anyway, climbing several flights until he reached the roof access. This time the door was unlocked and he stepped through, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief in the relative silence. He staggered to the very edge and put his hands down on the concrete, resting for a moment.
He looked down. The wall here was almost sheer glass, but he knew there was a smashed window a few floors below. If he pulled his grappling—
"Took ya long enough."
Leonardo whirled, backed against the ledge.
Halfway across the roof, Raphael leaned the side of the roof access. He stood straight and knocked his knuckles against the door once.
"Elevator," Raphael said as he started toward him. "Beats the stairs any day. You sound kinda winded there, Ghost."
Leonardo realized he was panting and snapped his jaw shut. His body tensed, and he forced himself to loosen up again. Raphael couldn't see him clearly. He had to keep telling himself that. Raphael still didn't know. That was all that mattered.
"Now this is where I would ask if we were gonna do this nice and easy," Raphael said, stopping a few meters away.
Leonardo swallowed once.
Raphael lowered his head like an angry bull. "But I ain't in the mood for easy no more."
Raphael swung the chain. Leonardo had no way to go but down, scrambling back up and just out of reach. Every swing meant to break bone. Every punch was aimed at his face or chest, intent on a single shot finisher.
Basic dodges, rolls and feints kept Leonardo just out of reach, driving him back across the roof. Leonardo focused not on his brother's arms but his feet, watching for how he shifted his weight a split second before the chain lashed the air or his fist swung too close to his face. Leonardo clenched his hands into fists, but he couldn't fight back. One precise strike, one low sweep kick, and Raphael would read him instantly. That he had gotten this far was a miracle—
Raphael's closed fist struck his injured shoulder. With pained gasp, Leonardo went down on one knee. He tasted brother's fist had bruised bone, if it hadn't broken something altogether.
There was no banter, no smug trash talk. Raphael saw an opening and advanced, ready to kick the Ghost senseless. Leonardo wondered if Raphael would carry his unconscious body home. He had a moment to think that it just wasn't fair—if only he could have fought back—
A gunshot hit the wall beside them. At the access doors, a single security guard had dared come through after the Nightwatcher and Fantasma, aiming shakily at them both.
"Aw geez..." Raphael muttered. "Look, lay off, ya stupid human..."
As Raphael turned to face the guard, Leonardo realized what was about to happen. Raphael didn't know how intimidating that armor was—had never faced himself in it, and now he was turning that dark bulk toward a terrified man with a firearm—
Leonardo sprang as the gun fired.
The bullet passed harmlessly over them as Raphael fell, Leonardo on top of him, but they turned slightly and the moonlight reflected off of Raphael's helmet, flashing over Leonardo's face.
"What the—"
Leonardo scrambled back and turned on all fours, rising to his feet. His hand came up with a shuriken that flew a straight line to the guard's hand, piercing through and drawing a scream even as the guard staggered out of sight. The sound of a door slamming shut followed.
"Wait—" Raphael clambered up on one knee.
Like hell was he going to just wait. Leonardo moved to run past him—
Raphael's hand closed on his wrist and held strong, yanking him around so that Leonardo half-turned, still poised to run even as he was forced back to face him. The movement pulled the hood wider, just enough for it to slide down to Leonardo's shoulders.
They stood facing each other for a long moment. The wind blew over them, rippling the torn and ragged edge of the cloak. Both of them breathed hard. That the bullet would have hit Raphael was obvious but no longer important.
"You...cheap..." Raphael sputtered in growing rage. "...lying hypocrite..."
"Raph—" Leonardo started.
"Shut up!"
Raphael turned, dragging Leonardo forward and throwing him to the ground. In the second he let go, Leonardo put his hands out and turned the throw into a flip, flipped again, then did a vault that would have made Michelangelo proud. He landed nimbly at the very edge of the roof, coming to an easy crouch. He coughed once, spitting blood, never taking his eyes off his brother.
Now Raphael spotted the satchel at his brother's side. His rage turned white hot and he ripped off his helmet, staring at him in breathless indignation.
"What was it this time?" he demanded. "What was so important you turned into a common damn thief?"
Leonardo felt his face heat up, but he met his brother's glare straight on. He wasn't sure what else to do. Run? Raphael knew who he was. Raphael knew—
"Don't tell Splinter," Leonardo said, appalled at how childish it sounded.
Raphael gaped. "Are you shitting me? 'Don't tell Splinter'? That his favorite son is a worthless thief?"
Leonardo flinched. His eyes narrowed as he shifted his weight, feeling like a jaguar primed to leap. With a harsh pull, he brought the hood back up over his head, covering his face in comfortable shadow again.
"You tell Splinter," Leonardo hissed, "and I'll tell him you're Nightwatcher."
Raphael stopped in dawning realization.
"You..."
Voices came close to the access door. Raphael glanced that way for a moment, then back at his brother...
Where his brother had been.
Leonardo was gone. Raphael ran to the ledge and looked down in time to see his brother landing on the ground and running across the street into the darkness.
He slammed his fist on the ledge, smashing off a chunk of concrete. Hot tears stung his eyes. That his big brother would...that Leonardo had...
When the guards finally came out, Raphael was gone, taking the same route Leonardo had if a little more clumsily, weighed down with armor and exhausted, physically and emotionally. He headed back to his bike, struggling to lift it over the fence, and kicked the engine started. The road home felt a hundred miles long.