Vengeance
Rating: M (lots of violence, language, and innuendo which will lead to sexual content. dont like, DONT READ)(adult themes and situations) (if you're young or easily offended, then don't read it, it's that simple)
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Disclaimer: Author agrees to apply warning labels as needed and exercises rights to include, but not limited to, explicit content and dark themes. Trigger warnings will apply when necessary. Premise and original characters are sole creations of author. Any recognizable character is property of its respective owners. Story is written for fun, but still considered author's intellectual property and artistic expressionism and is thus protected from censorship by this site or any other representative/agent.
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Again, this story will be for ADULTS... so if you're a kid or offended by everything, then move on. This story isn't for you.
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Chapter One: Calculations
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It was a typical day in the lair of four mutated turtle teenagers and their talking rat father.
Despite a strict upbringing, studying martial arts and undergoing intensive training, the home of the five mutants was always in a state of perpetual chaos.
Mostly due to one turtle in particular.
Master Splinter found Michelangelo's plans for the turtles' upcoming nineteenth birthday in July and smiled, his aged mind taking him back to when the turtles were young.
It was hard to believe his sons were so grown. Adults now. Individuals. Strong. Honorable. Mature.
Well, for the most part.
They still retained traces of their innocence, despite facing fearsome foes, evil enemies, and being horribly outnumbered when defeating The Foot Clan. But they persevered. Banning together to take down Shredder and his vile soldiers. They took it upon themselves to protect the people of New York, though no one had expected them to shoulder such a heavy responsibility.
Then Shredder escaped, aided by Baxter Stockman, and Krang manipulated the foolish warlord into helping him open a portal into another dimension, and once again the young mutants stepped up, protecting the people of New York, and beyond.
No one asked them to place their lives on the line. No one forced them to the front lines of an interdimentional battle.
They did it naturally.
Protected those who are weaker.
Such honor and respect. Splinter had never been more proud in all his life.
Or more terrified.
He loved his sons and trusted in their abilities, but nothing in the ninja handbook covered being attacked by a big robot with a brain hanging out of its stomach. But his sons had performed admirably, as they had recounted the battle many times in the past two years.
They were mostly amicable, being four exuberant brothers, but there was naturally the occasional friction. When they were children they spent every waking moment together, playing, arguing, observing the world with child-like wonder, eager to join the humans on the surface.
As they grew older, their individual personalities began to emerge, shaping them into the young men they had become.
So honorable.
Mature.
Sort of.
The silence of the lair was broken by a shriek as Michelangelo came pelting through the room, madly waving an article of clothing over his head. Cackling madly, he dodged Raphael's swipe, evading his brother and darting out of the main room and into a tunnel that had several junctions.
"Come back here with my shorts!" Raph bellowed, thundering after his younger brother. "Dammit, Mikey!"
Mikey's laugh echoed off the tunnel walls, making it nearly impossible to gauge his location.
"No go, brah! You've been...debriefed! Ha!"
Splinter sighed, deciding it was time for another walk. He loved his sons, but sometimes the noise became too much.
Leonardo likewise shared the need for solitude and peace, oftentimes going on walks or secluding himself in the dojo or his room. Though now he also carried the burden of grief, having lost someone he cared about a few months prior. His physical wounds had healed into a spideweb of scarring, but his heart was still raw and bleeding, unable to find peace.
He greatly worried his father.
And annoyed the hell out of his brothers, especially Raph.
Raph's sympathy only extended so far, and after a couple months of Leo's brooding, Raph started to become irritated, yelling at Leo to snap out of his melancholy and maniacal training regimes, but Leo remained steadfast.
A storm was brewing between the brothers. They needed an outlet, and now the city was experiencing a huge sag in crime, the turtles were left without a job. So to speak. They had been idle for two weeks, Chief Vincent informing them their patrols had done the impossible, and lowered New York's crime rate to a fraction of it's normal standard.
Which meant the turtles didn't have to take so many patrols or stay out all night to protect the city and its inhabitants.
Which meant building tension and four masculine shells posturing in the long hours of the endless days that blended one into another. Training only helped tire the body and mind, but it was a short lived distraction. The days of isolation and inactivity were making four turtles very surly, one in particular.
The one that happened to be bellowing threats of dismemberment and death to a bratty little brother who magically evaded capture, his insane laughter ringing off the brick and concrete walls.
Donatello, as always, was tucked away into his den of computers at the back of the lair, totally oblivious to everything around him. He had two such workstations. One being in the main room and monitored everything from subway and major intersections to radio transmissions, both civilian and police bandwidths, and could be accessed by his brothers or father.
There was also a secret program that followed local military bandwidths, embedded with an algorithm that monitored for selective words. Any hint of Krang's ship and alarms would sound.
The other computer station was amalgamated with his laboratory, set up exclusively with translation and scientific data. Donnie's pride and joy was the collection of analyzers, decryption systems, and medical diagnostics, most of which were experimental prototypes.
All courtesy of Eric Sacks.
After Krang and Shredder were defeated, the turtles had hired a moving truck and returned to Eric Sacks' estate where Donnie was in techno-geek heaven. He grabbed everything his three fingered hands could get a hold of.
Leo had been apprehensive at first, but Donnie made it clear that since they were held captive, and were subjected to physical exams before being placed in the glass cages where Sacks planned on draining their blood, all that information had to be purged, least someone with ill intent were made privy to their unique biology.
After Donnie collected what he could, he placed computer worms in the databases to purge all related information on the turtles and their father, then with Raph and Mikey's help, trashed the place thoroughly to give the illusion vandals had raided the now abandoned property.
Mikey even tagged the walls with lurid graffiti.
April had been overly cheerful about the destruction when she gave the report on the evening news.
Most of the salvaged equipment was in storage, the lair unable to sustain the extra electrical output, nor have the space for the heavier pieces of machinery. Donnie had plans to use one of the neighboring tunnels as a proper lab, but with everything that had happened in the past few months, Leo falling in love with a human, and then losing her to an explosion, Donnie's plans had been put on hiatus.
For three months he scoured the police bands, running diagnostics, searching for clues that would lead to the arrest of May's killer. But as time went on, there was less and less to go on, the trail going cold and Donnie's skills unable to find answers. His determination was blindsided when Leo joined him one evening and assured him it was wise to stop looking.
Donnie knew Leo had taken care of the problem himself, though he abstained from asking for details.
Whatever secret Leo was holding, it was for him and him alone. Donnie respected that. Even if he felt a lingering sense of failure. He wiped all information about May's death and trusted in Leo's judgment.
To prevent his thoughts from wallowing in unknown facts and a past he couldn't change, Donnie took up tasks that required his utmost concentration.
First and foremost, he had updated the garbage truck, and thanks to May's generosity, he had purchased a bread delivery truck that he retrofitted for crime fighting excursions.
It lasted one night before Mikey drove it on the sidewalk and busted an axel, for which he was still grounded. Donatello had finished repairing it the day before.
Not that Mikey was ever going to be allowed to drive it again.
Donnie also got a great deal on a moving van. Neither it or the bread truck was as roomy as the garbage truck, to comfortably fit all of them and their assorted equipment, but they served as excellent back up vehicles. Unassuming. Innocent.
Much like his security measures around the lair.
Most of the access tunnels the turtles blocked off, eliminating possible breaches from outside forces. The tunnels were only accessible through the lair, specially designed as escape routes if they were ever infiltrated like the old lair.
Now the only ways into their home were a hidden subway junction, one main tunnel that was disguised and lined with various security measures, and two culverts, which the turtles loved to surf on their shells and engage in a splashing game that annoyed their father.
Such games prompted Donnie to move his computers, making sure they were safe from water.
But now he was caught up on repairs, and doubling their security measures to protect the lair, Donnie's mind began to drift, so he focused his attention on ferreting out any signal remotely related to the Foot. Green fingers flew along the keyboard, adding new, seemingly unrelated key words to his search algorithm.
Out of no where, a warning light flashed on the screen, drawing the geeky turtle from his melancholy.
Donatello instantly perked up, his tongue pressed between his teeth as he checked over the readout. The world around him melted away into background noise as he focused intently on the main computer screen. Even Raph's thundering threats and Mikey's insane cackling were subdued in favor of the hum of electronics.
After a few moments the screen displayed news that wasn't shocking to Donnie. In fact, he had been anticipating something for several months now.
The Foot had been quiet for over two years, not even making the back page of the lowest newspaper. No doubt they wanted to be forgotten in order to regroup and re-launch their campaign. The last time they were mentioned was when Eric Sacks' was sentenced to 100 years in a maximum security prison.
It appeared as if the Foot were stirring again.
The possibility was a doubled edged sword. Donnie dreaded the danger the Foot presented, but a small part of him was ecstatic to detect their familiar chatter. He hated their radio silence. It didn't bode well.
"Leo, I've detected Foot related activity," Donnie said into his walkie.
Static buzzed for a moment before a groggy Leo answered.
"On my way."
A minute later Leo entered Donnie's domain, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"What's up?" Leo asked, clearing his throat and his vision.
"Been monitoring the airwaves," Donnie explained, pointing to the screens in tandem. "Transmissions on the main airwaves have been quiet, but recently, there's been some chatter on the lower bandwidths. I ran a standard ferreting algorithm, tracking the transmissions. I've been able to pinpoint a facility here in New York that appears to be a central access hub for several satellite facilities."
"How many have you identified?" Leo asked, eyeing the red dot that corresponded with a location further south.
"Four. Here, Washington DC, LA, and Tokyo." Donnie brought up a map and highlighted the approximate area the messages had been sent and received. "Communication has doubled in the past week. Whatever they are planning, it's being coordinated on a global scale."
"Krang?" Leo asked, getting an uneasy feeling in his gut.
"With Shredder still AWOL, there's no telling if they're preparing for his return, regrouping for a renewed attack, or another player is stepping in Shredder's vacant shoes."
"Looks to me we have some investigating to do," Leo said, the last remnants of sleep disappearing in face of the upcoming mission. He touched his walkie so Mikey and Raph would hear the news. "Time to snoop, boys. Gear up. We leave in ten."
"Righty-o!" Mikey crowed.
There was a terrible crashing of turtle and furniture, followed by the painful groan of a captured little brother.
"Gotcha, you unruly pest!" Raph spat, yanking his clothes from Mikey's lax grip. He got off of Mikey, rolling his broad shoulders and shaking his fist that held his shorts. "I just washed these! You better not have gotten them dirty!"
"I didn't," Mikey whined, rolling to his feet and popping up, all jovial and good natured. "Might have peed on them a little when you landed on me. Dude, you're one heavy ass turtle!"
Raph grunted, holding up his shorts and finding them crumpled, but still clean.
"Weapons check in five," Leo called as he passed, heading to his room to collect his favorite katana.
Raph lumbered to his room, putting away his laundry from his errant kid brother. His sais reposed in their sheaths on his sides.
Mikey patted his sides, searching for his nunchakus which had mysteriously disappeared within the last half hour. Frowning, he went on a mission to find them, retracing his steps through the lair.
He checked his bedroom, the reflection pool, Master Splinter's nursery that housed his bonsai collection, and the weight room where he had spotted Raph. He even checked the tunnels he ran when Raph was chasing him.
Nothing.
Not wanting Leo to give him yet another a lecture on weapons maintenance, Mikey grabbed a couple of hammers, tucking them into his utility belt and tying a hoodie around his waist to cover the impromptu weapons. He was about to call his readiness for the mission when Master Splinter huffed from the refrigerator.
"Michelangelo? I believe these are yours," Splinter said, removing two sets of nunchakus from the fridge and tossing them to the guilty, absent minded turtle. He glared warningly, "We will have words when you return."
Mikey offered his most angelic smile but Splinter was immune.
"Sorry, sensei. Forgot I put them down while snacking."
Splinter dusted the shredded cheese from the shelf in the fridge. "Yes, I can see that. Another topic of conversation when you return."
Mikey's shoulders drooped in defeat. He knew it was going to be a loooong lecture. Probably involving a pop quiz to ensure he was paying attention. And possibly a visit to the hashi. Mikey's plans of a fun evening were evaporating in a mist of irresponsibility and punishment.
Donnie hustled into the room, adjusting the gear strapped to his back. Leo joined them a minute later, followed by Raph, who noticed Donnie's less than cumbersome appearance.
"You're missing some of your science junk," Raph said, nodding to the purple banded turtle.
"Slim lining my gear for easier carry and less weight," Donnie explained, turning to show the two small electronic tablets held into place with Velcro. He placed his goggles over his eyes, checking to make sure they were functioning for the mission. Night vision, thermal scan, zoom, physical readouts of his brothers, all checked in the clear. He gave a thumbs up to Leo. "All good. Ready to go."
"Sure you have everything?" Leo asked, squinting with one eye and gazing to Donnie's side.
Donnie grabbed the side of his shell where his bo usually resided and blushed. "Whoops."
Leo hummed in annoyance, crossing his arms over his plastron and waited while Donnie retrieved his weapon. It wasn't often their nerdy brother forgot his bo.
"All set," Donnie called, securing his bo into place on his shell.
"Take lead," Leo said, motioning toward the tunnel that would bring them close to the coordinates Donnie identified.
Donnie shuffled forward, holding up his arm and tapping the small handheld device taped on his wrist. A holographic image appeared, indicating the building they were going to infiltrate, his GPS providing the route to the potentially new base of operations for the Foot.
Twenty blocks away, Donnie paused, holding up his hand to halt his brothers. Silent as ghosts they flanked him, watching the small icon on his wrist. Donnie tapped a couple of buttons and a schematic of the building appeared.
Which revealed an access point from the sewer tunnel into a subbasement around the corner.
A lot of the older buildings in New York were connected via underground tunnels and abandoned railway and sewer lines. Back in the prohibition days, the tunnels were used by smugglers to transport illegal liquor. But with the ever expanding population, and subsequent rebuilding of substructures to accommodate the populace, most of the tunnels had been blocked off and forgotten.
Stealthily, the turtles advanced, peering around the end of the tunnel to find the rusted door devoid of guards or security cameras. Donnie deployed his goggles and found the area clear of traps and alarms. Returning his goggles to his head, he led the way to the obscured door at the end of the tunnel that stretched half a city block.
With years of training, and no uncertain amount of skill, Raph engaged his sai, jimmying the locking mechanism. A metal clink signaled the locks surrender. Grinning, Raph popped the lock free and set it aside.
Leo rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to hear the end of Raph's gloating. Leo didn't approve of Raph's love of lock picking and safecracking, but in such situations, his (sadly) illegal pastime had come in handy.
Donnie scanned the darkness beyond and found the subbasement room empty. He gave the –all clear- signal and removed his bo, preparing for any unexpected visitors.
One by one his brother's followed, stepping into the Stygian abyss, weapons sighing in readiness. After a brief pause, Donnie scanning the room with his thermal glasses, he switched on the ambient light on his shoulder, allowing his brothers the chance to survey the room.
"Are we there yet?" Mikey whispered, eyes darting frantically, searching every shadowed corner. He hated basements. They creeped him out.
"This is the location,' Donnie answered softly, engaging his GPS to show they were indeed at the correction location. "So far, so good."
"Place looks deserted. You sure this is it?" Raph asked, glancing into an adjacent room and finding it in similar disuse.
"Positive." Donnie adjusted his glasses, glaring indignantly at Raph. "This is a sixteen story building. My GPS shows the location, not the exact floor."
Leo spotted a door and made toward it, Raph following a step behind. As always, Raph's face was twisted into a sneer. He twirled a sai in eagerness, hoping to find an adversary to unleash some pent up anger.
Mikey shuffled along, his big blue eyes wide and expectant, shining as a lantern in the dismal light.
Every shadow was a threat.
Every strange shape was a monster.
Every noise was approaching death.
The air was stale and stagnant, dust heavy. Spooky cobwebs and the low groaning of old pipes all made for one horrible nightmare for a skittish turtle.
"Keep alert, guys," Leo said unnecessarily as he approached the door, katanas poised protectively in front of him.
The silence was broken by Raph, who tripped over a rat trap, long sprung and empty. He stumbled, catching his balance, glaring at the trap. Growling an obscenity, he gave it a quick kick, sending it skittering along the dusty floor.
"Do you think anybody heard that?" Mikey asked fearfully, hiding in Raph's shadow.
Donnie smirked at Leo, letting him know he hadn't detected anything beyond the door. Leo winked at Raph, a cue to play along.
"Stay focused. You never know when the enemy will attack." Leo breathed, sweeping right, then left, overly performing the surveillance of the empty room for Mikey's benefit.
Raph adopted the same posture, mirroring Leo's actions, his sais glinting in his hands. His voice was hurried and laced with worry.
He whispered, scared, "They can be anywhere, Leo!"
"They're probably watching us, right now," Leo muttered.
"Stalking us," Raph added, taking a step backward to bump shells with Leo.
"Searching for weaknesses," Leo said, tensing unnecessarily, his hardened body poised for an attack.
"Plotting the perfect time to spring their trap." Raph said in a hushed tone, nervously shifting from side to side.
"Dudes, can you possibly get any creepier?" Mikey hissed, his nunchakus swinging at near supersonic speed. "I'm not quite psyched out enough already."
"You gonna scream like a little girl again?" Raph taunted, knowing Mikey was getting wound really tight. The obnoxious little shit deserved it. He annoyed his brothers to no end. It was rare they were able to give him a little payback.
"Turtle screams once, and no one lets him forget it," Mikey huffed, finally cottoning on to his brothers' joke.
The fact Raph had scared him into shrieking embarrassing decibels gave Mikey no uncertain amount of grief and shame. A fact Raph loved to rub in his face.
"I wonder about you," Raph snickered, nudging his little brother to help calm his nerves.
Mikey gave a broken, nervous laugh. His nunchakus slowed slightly, but still whirled in anticipation.
"Let's go," Donnie encouraged, nodding toward the door, his nightvision goggles giving him a bug-eyed expression.
"Oh, man," Mikey moaned pitifully. He hated dark and scary basements. In the movies, they never bode well for the good guys.
The door creaked open to reveal a short hallway with a dozen stairs topped with a door that was partially open. Donnie led the way, head in constant motion sweeping for traps or alarms, but found no sign of either.
It wasn't commonplace to receive guests through the basement, hence the lack of security.
Donnie paused at the bottom of the stairs, swiping his finger over the handrail to find it lacking dust. Switching to thermal scans, he craned his neck upward, searching beyond the door.
"Guys!" Donnie hissed, turning to face his brothers. He pulled up his goggles and tapped the device of his wrist. "I'm detecting heat signatures."
"How many?" Leo asked softly.
The green glow of Donnie's handheld device made him appear ghostly in the darkness.
"I'm estimating a dozen. Maybe less."
"We go silent," Leo ordered, moving stealthily up the stairs.
Even a dozen of the Foot clan could be dangerous. They were ninjas, trained warriors, and had no qualms about overpowering and killing a mutant.
Light bled through the cracked door. The sounds of loitering men reached the delicate hearing of the four ninjas hiding in the shadows. Leo peeked through the inch wide gap in the door, surveying the couple of muttering men lounging against a wall, one smoking a short cigarette.
Leo held up his hand, counting down to the attack.
Digits counted down, Leo grasped his twin katanas and led the charge, bursting through the door. Raph and Mikey followed through, weapons singing through the air as they took up flanking positions beside their leader. Donnie brought up the rear, bo sizzling with awaiting electricity.
A room full of humans froze for a split second, stunned at the awesome sight of four armed turtles.
A few of the humans were inside of a glass enclosure in the center of the room. They wore lab coats, goggles, and gloves while they worked in the glass antechamber that was full of diagnostic equipment, computers, and test tubes. On the table in the middle was a silver metal crate, the kind used in shipping heavy equipment.
Outside of this diagnostic chamber stood guards (a good thirty or more) dressed in the Foot Clan's latest fashions. Solid black forms with various weapons strapped to their bodies.
Swords were removed from scabbards. Guns were shifted from backs or removed from holsters and pointed at the four intruders.
"Uhh, Donnie?" Raph called, eyeing the sea of enemies. "Where in the hell did you learn to count?"
"Whoops," Donnie said sheepishly, making a mental note to run a diagnostic on his equipment. "My bad."
Raph growled.
The room exploded into chaos.
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AN: I'm also uploading to AO3... as this site has proven to be biased at times and love to censure authors who don't fit into a cookiecutter, warm and fuzzies, rainbows and kittens outline for storytelling.
AN2: I write fanfictions for fun but if you're interested in supporting my original fiction, and coffee habit, head over to PAT RE ON dot com. (all one word but FF is a cuck and doesn't allow the full name because they're attempting to censure and punish authors) I'm offering tutorials, workshops, live Q&A sessions, sneak peeks into all my original works,(just to be clear... NOT FANFICTION) plus a whole lot more. So, come find me... I'd love to see you there!
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