MARK OF THE BEAST I: BARRAGE

"Today's guest is an independent scientist from Czech Republic who's using bacteria from pond scum to turn carbon dioxide into biofuel that can be used in almost any engine or power plant. Doctor Donat Hajek says his consumer-sized fuel processors can produce the equivalent of one gallon of gasoline a day, and are ready to hit the market within the year." The rosy-cheeked host led the audience in applause as a coarse-haired, burly man in a lab coat came onstage, bowing his head to the camera with a stern face as he adjusted his glasses. "Doctor Hajek, the world wants to know: what were your thoughts as you began to discover all this was possible?"

"Don's costume looks mega bogus, dude." Mike interrupted. "How's anyone falling for it?"

"You fell for his last one, shell-for brains. Remember the Foot lab in Two Bridges?" I reminded him.

"Well, yeah, but..." Mike stammered. "That was in the heat of a mission. This is a primetime talk show. Totally different, bro."

"I think Don's a little smarter than the average primetime TV viewer." Leo countered. "He wouldn't be up there unless he knew he'd pull it off."

"...Then we cannot justify using a finite resource to drive the global economy if there is a more sustainable alternative." Don explained in his dopey fake accent, sounding like an outdated Bond villain. "The end of the fossil fuel era of human history must end at some point, so why not now?"

"Why isn't he ever an American scientist? Or a Canadian scientist?" Mike groaned. "Always going for tacky theatrical stuff."

"Donnie's a major theatre buff." Leo answered. "Maybe the moustache is hiding it, but I can tell he's up there smiling like a kid in a candy shop."

"Yeah, it ain't like he gets too many chances to perform like this. No school plays in the sewers." I offered. "This is his first big shot to schmooze up to the general public."

"So, there's been a lot of comments from the scientific community about how you've worked outside of mainstream commercial or university labs to publish your findings." The host continued. "What's your response to anyone claiming you've been selfish or secretive with your work?"

"It's all with good reason, I assure you." Don's hologram maintained the same robotic, stoic face. "Is it really so unfathomable that one man could dream of changing the world alone? I always assumed that was something universal to human nature."

As Don proceeded with his bullshit philosophy, an audible 'thwack' and the sizzle of sparks came through the TV. He paused in his tracks, and the bushy eyebrows of his Eastern European disguise started to flicker, along with the lab coat and thick plastic glasses. Beneath the hologram, his turtle form started to show, as did the glint of a shuriken buried in the projector box clipped to his belt. On the edge of the screen, two shrouded figures jumped onto the stage like insects, robes clearly emblazoned with the menacing scarlet Foot Clan crest. The camera cut to static in a heartbeat, and all three of us were on our feet.

"Let's go." Leo growled before I got the chance to. We ran to the training room to grab our weapons and jump into our gear, barely even thinking to tie my laces as we rushed with urgency. Every movement was a blur; there was no conversation or consideration when a brother's life was on the line. The front door into the tunnels groaned mechanically to open, but as we were about to start our sprint through the sewers, five silhouettes appeared with a faint splash. The same sinister logo stared back at us, as I pulled a sai from my belt and started to whip a manriki around.

Without a moment's hesitation, the five ninja leaped into the lair, arranging in an arrowhead that surrounded the triangle of Mike, Leo, and me. My manriki rocketed through the air to wrap around one of their katana, and in the blink of an eye, it clanged to the floor as he tripped right into a swift kick from my heel. On cue, another rushed from behind me, and the steel of his sword clanged against my armored shoulder like a bell as he caught me off-guard. Not allowing him another swipe, I jetted my elbow back into his gut and flipped my sai around with my wrist to spear it back, where it sunk into what I could only assume was his upper torso before I shook him off without looking back and charged forward.

Mike was practically riding piggyback on the ninja facing him as he clobbered his skull with both nunchaku, but Leo looked deadlocked with the two attacking him simultaneously. Each of them sparred swiftly with one of Leo's arms as he struggled to divide his concentration between them both. One of the ninja was so concentrated on his swordplay, he didn't notice my tiger-like pounce and tackle until my hands were already wrapped around his hips. We bounced on the floor in a heap until I pinned the faceless black figure on the floor and wrapped the chain of my manriki around his neck, pulling it tight as I snapped my back upright and hurled him over my shoulder.

Two more ninja darted into the lair, but one got a taste of Mike's shuriken before he hit the ground, and a swift kick to the jaw from Leo sent the other soaring in a perfect arc back into the tunnel. Almost as quickly as they'd come, our enemies were out, in laughably typical Foot Clan fashion.

"Dammit, why'd they only send seven?" Mike lamented. "No fair Raph gets three and the rest of us only get two each."

"Save it for when we get to Donnie, jackass." I huffed, and into the endless dark of the sewers we raced.


Welcome to "Mark Of The Beast", an epic that'll focus on nature, ass-kicking, religion, family, and hopefully much more!