I'm so excited to finally post a TMNT fanfic! For those who don't know me, I've been a TMNT fan since I was a kid and that was the first fandom that I ever wrote fanfictions to. I started off posting stories on Deviantart on an old account so many years back and gained a good-sized community of supporters and friends before I moved my work to fanfic .net and eventually A03. Now, I started over on all those sites with a new name and new fandoms, but TMNT had always been close in my heart. I've been wanting to start back writing them for ages, but couldn't seem to come up with any story ideas worthwhile. . . until today!
Also, my head cannon style tends to lean on the 2k3 versions, because that was my first introduction to the turtles and frankly, still the best (in my opinion. Of course.) BUT, I do love to mix different elements of the other versions into my universe. My next favorite version has surprisingly become Rottmnt. So, you'll probably find a lot of references to them in this. Also, a bit of 2k12 too.
I do hope you other fellow TMNT fans like it! :)
The Not So Sugar-Coated Truth?
I Have a Confection to Make?
On Friday night of March 11th, a man named Andre Mendez, a fifty-three-year-old truck driver was caught and arrested for smuggling fifteen kilos of cocaine in the cargo of raw materials imported from Bolivia, between the border of New Jersey and Manhattan. It is believed there are several other trucks transporting the narcotics to several other cities across the US.
When questioned by the NYPD about the other transports, Andre kept tight lipped about it. Police had decided to offer a plea arrangement to reduce Andre's sentence if a location is provided.
Andre agreed to the terms, but, when police went to retrieve him, they had found Andre dead in his cell on Monday morning of March 14th. Autopsy reports have been released to the public and conclude cause of death to be poisoning. Some suspect it to be suicidal. Others believe it to be an assassination. Perhaps, whoever involved in the trafficking ring trying to cover their tracks? Could it be an inside job?
Either way, the case had officially been passed along to the DEA (Drug Enforcement Administration) and FBI (Federal Bureau of Investigation) who is working beside them and is assuring us that they are putting all their resources and time into finding the other cargo transports and putting a stop to the trafficking ring.
-Written by April O'Neil
From the New York Channel 6 News
"April? What are you still doing here?"
April's head snapped up as if yanked out of a trance. Her wide, green eyes swiveling to her coworker, Chris; bloodshot from staring at a computer all day.
"Huh? What did you say?"
Chris shook his head and placed his cup of coffee down on her desk. "I think you need this more than me."
"I have one right here." She said, reaching for the Styrofoam cup and taking a sip, her mouth twisted at the taste of its frigid temperature. Gingerly setting the cup to the side, she grabbed the steaming mug and muttered a, "Thank you."
"Got lost in the work again?"
"Did I?" The red-haired woman asked, surprised.
"It's almost ten."
April glanced at the clock on her computer and sure enough, it was 9:48 PM.
"Shitballs! Casey is going to kill me!" April exclaimed, bolting out of her chair. She would have dumped the coffee on herself if not for Chris's quick hands to catch it.
"Hot date tonight?" Her coworker inquired with a suggestive waggle of his brows.
"It was supposed to be." April huffed, swinging her laptop bag and purse on each of her shoulders before scooping up her piles of research files in her arms.
"Isn't this, like, the third time you've missed date night?" Chris asked, glancing at her desktop. Curiously reading the title of the article she had been spending the past week working on. ""The Not So Sugar-Coated Truth?" "I Have a Confection to Make?" What the hell kind of dad jokes are these?"
Reaching across her desk and blocking Chris's view, April switched off her computer. "Casey came up with those. It's a work in progress."
"I'd say it is." Chris snorted with amusement.
April smacked the man's chest. "Be nice. I thought they were clever."
"That's cause he's your boy-toy." Chris laughed.
April rolled her eyes as she walked around her coworkers frame to hurry towards the elevators.
"Good luck patching things up with the hockey nut!" Chris shouted after her.
"Thanks." April muttered dryly to herself as she stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Ground Floor. As she rode, she took the opportunity to fish out her phone from her purse and dialed Casey.
"This is Senior Jones speaking. Whom am I talking to?" Casey's deep and obnoxious voice answered in the worst Spanish accent she'd ever heard.
However, given that she was in enough shit as it was, she refrained from criticizing.
"Casey, I'm so sorry. I—"
"Lost track of time. I know. I know." Casey sighed, dropping the accent, thank God. She didn't know how long she could bite her tongue for. "Can you at least come up with original excuses if I'm to continue being stood up?"
Guilt tightened April's gut as she exited the elevator. "I'll make it up to you. I promise. I'm on my way home as we speak."
"Oh? And what exactly did you have in mind?" Casey's voice perked up with intrigue.
"It's in the form of a pink and white striped bag underneath the bed." April pushed her way out the double doors of Channel 6's News building with a smirk at the sound of hitched breathing across the line. She had planned for her little shopping spree to be a surprise tonight but figured her guy could use a little pick-me-up. Plus, she was hoping the pure anticipation would distract him enough to avoid the lecture she knew she deserved. Or, at least turn her punishment into something they could both enjoy.
"Don't think this gets you out of anything, young lady." Casey attempted a stern tone, but she could hear the underlying strain. He wouldn't be mad at her for long.
"I know, baby. I'm sorry. You know how lost I get when I start writing an article."
"Believe me, I know. I've learned more about the dark underworld than I ever wanted to know." She could hear his shiver crackle through the speaker. "Just, please be careful getting home. I hate when you take the subway this late at night."
"Has my training been slipping or something?" April tried for a joke. She was confident in her ability to protect herself, but she wasn't about to say Casey's worries weren't valid. She had seen way too much danger and violence than any twenty-five-year-old woman should have to see and was perfectly aware that 90% of it could whoop her ass in a heartbeat. However, that didn't mean she was about to hide under her bed for the rest of her life either.
"Of course not. You're the toughest chick I know. But, I still worry."
April felt warmed by her boyfriend's concern. As appealing as independency might be for a young adult, it was still always nice to have someone care enough to worry about you.
"Thanks, Casey. I appreciate it and I promise to be careful. I'll give you a call when I get off the subway, okay?"
"Sounds good. Love you, babe."
April smiled like a teenager being asked to the prom by her crush. "Love you too."
Hanging up and tucking her phone back in her purse, she made her way down the steps into the white tiled, fluorescent lighted maw of underground transportation.
While emptier than usual, there was still a good number of people waiting by the tracks, even at this time of night. One of the factors of living life in a big city that never sleeps: there is no such thing as being truly alone.
Thankfully, everyone was more interested in minding their own business. Burying their faces in their phone or books or whatever thing they brought to entertain themselves.
A man sat in a corner, strumming on a beat-up looking guitar with a hat by his feet holding a handful of quarters and appearing perfectly content with life despite looking like he hadn't showered in a week.
April fumbled for a ten from her purse and dropped it in the hat.
"Much appreciation, beautiful lady." The man nodded to her and began strumming a love song.
Smiling, April sat in a nearby metal seat to listen while she waited for her train to arrive.
Not ten minutes later did the subway come screeching to a halt at their station and April boarded along with a couple of other passengers.
She took the seat by the window and was about to pull out a crossword puzzle to pass the time when her phone chimed. Alerting her of a text message.
April rolled her eyes; certain it was Casey checking up on her like the worry wart he was. However, when she pulled out her phone to see, she recognized the number not of her boyfriend's but someone a little less pleasant.
Regardless, she was curious enough to tap on the notification to read it.
"April? Are you still awake?
I have another tip for you."
April felt her lips twist in displeasure as she typed back, "This had better be good, considering the shit your last tip went."
"We can't all be right all the time.
But this one is a good one. I swear on my mother's grave."
April's frown deepened, an uneasy feeling in her gut. She scanned her surroundings, as if she were expecting someone to be watching her receive this top-secret information, but just as she suspected, no one so much as glanced at her.
"Spit it out then."
"A cargo ship is supposed to be docking at the Red Hook Terminal between 2:30 and 3:00 AM tonight.
It's smuggling 15 tons of narcotics among the dry bulk cargo."
April felt a chill run down her spine as she was reminded of her current article. Obviously, it was a crazy coincidence considering it was only Casey and her boss that she shared her reports information with, but it was enough to make her feel off kilter.
"And what exactly are you expecting me to do with this information?" She replied. "My reputation isn't exactly sparkling with the cops right now. No, thanks to you."
"One little misstep and suddenly everyone's against you? Come on, O'Neil. You've been a reliable source for the police your entire career. I'm sure they'll give you some credit."
April rolled her eyes. As if her career had lasted for decades rather than the measly two that it was. If she hadn't personally known her tipper for as many years as she had, she would have probably shut down this little tete-a-tete right there and then.
"And if this turns out to be another of your wild goose chases, what do you think will happen to my career?"
"Not my problem. I can live with what'll happen if you don't do anything. Can you?"
For the duration of the ride, April sat there, staring at his last message sent while she considered her next move.
She already knew herself well enough to know she wasn't about to ignore this tip. In her line of work, she had long since figured out she needed to dig through tons of false leads to find that one credible one.
However, she usually would've taken the time to do her own research and maybe gotten help from a certain computer whiz she knew before making the decision to go after it or not, but she was apparently very limited on time now. If the shipment was scheduled to arrive tonight, she was going to have to make the decision with basically nothing to support her.
Muttering her frustrations, April scrolled back up to the beginning and started taking screenshots of their conversation. Praying this wasn't going to be another wild good chase as she mailed the images via email to a contact inside the NYPD. If it was, she was going to be in one hell of a lot of trouble.
Unfortunately, because of her last fiasco, there was no telling if the police were going to investigate this issue or not and April was not one of those people who could let a situation go without properly seeing it through, because he was right. She couldn't live with what'll happen if she didn't.
When the subway stopped at the next station, April grabbed her things and got off, heading back up to the surface world to make another quick call to Casey to let him know she was going to be delayed before he could panic into thinking a maniac had got her or something.
Casey answered on the second ring. "Hey, you almost home already?"
"Unfortunately, not. I just received a tip." She explained as she walked along the sidewalk, counting down the street's numbers as she passed.
"A tip? I thought you already left work, April!" Casey voice hardened with the implication of her lying to him.
"This wasn't a tip from work. This was one of my personal contacts." April confessed, quietly. She never really gone into detail about how she got the information she did with Casey, knowing he wouldn't be happy about it.
"A personal contact? What does that even mean?" Casey exclaimed with a mixture of concern and outrage. She could already see him grabbing his equipment bag and hockey mask. Ready to be her vigilante in Adida's brand armor.
"Relax, baby. I sent screenshots of the whole exchange to the cops."
April stopped in front of a Mike-Tony's Pizza place and a bookstore, both closed for the night. She walked in between them, allowing the darkness of the alleyway to engulf her. Luckily, this place was littered with Genius Built branded security cameras, warding away any unsavory characters like bug repellents.
She set her files and purse behind a cluster of trash cans, digging out her wallet and sticking it in her laptop bag, unwilling to leave it behind. Next, she found the crowbar stashed in the same place and used it to pry open the manhole cover.
"You already got the cops involved but you're not heading home, why?"
"Because, after the. . . incident with my last tip, there's a good chance the police will ignore my case and since this is the biggest seizure in Manhattan history, I can't risk the traffickers getting away with this." April explained, swinging her legs into the dark hole. She could hear the sound of rushing water beneath her feet but could not see it. Taking a deep breath of somewhat fresh air, April climbed down the rungs attached to the wall. Pinning her phone between her shoulder and ear.
"D-o. . . ou nee—e. . . to come—ere?" Casey's voice came in garbled pieces now that she was deep enough in the tunnel to lose signal.
"No. I'm just going to talk to the guys and see if they think it's worth investigating. Then I'm heading home, okay?"
Only static answered her. There was no telling if Casey caught any of that.
She swore to herself and hung up the call, quickly climbing to the bottom before sending him a text and hoping when she reached the next wi-fi signal he wasn't actively on his way to her. She groaned at the feeling of cold, smelly water soaking her favorite pumps and making her slacks cling to her legs. One of these days she will remember to bring water boots before her next excursion into the sewers.
Switching her phone flashlight on, she trudged in the memorized direction of the lair. It was twenty after ten. More than enough time for the guys to wake up and begin their night-owlish tendencies.