Raphael hit the roof with little more than a hollow thunk. His steps were whisper-soft as he approached the roof-access door to the Clinic. Within seconds, he'd broken the lock and slipped inside, a dark green shadow in the night.
He hit the store room first. It was a poorly organized labyrinth of boxes stacked high and filled to the brim with vials, syringes, first aid supplies and over-the-counter medication. He had to creep and squeeze through in order to avoid sending the towers toppling down. The slow pace set his teeth on edge, but the last thing he needed to do was to attract the attention of the whole Foot squad.
Donnie had been panicking, he thought. The purple-banded nerd approached most problems with a clinical kind of detachment; simply thinking through the steps of any challenge and finding a solution. Six Foot weren't really a big deal. Hell, any one of the turtles could take out that many on their own. Even with hostages is the balance. Raph didn't know what his brother had seen on his window of monitors in that claustrophobic little cave of his, but the sharp lines of worry around his eyes during the call was enough to set Raph's nerves to jangling.
He picked his way across the clutter of the store room towards the entrance to the main floor. It was a swinging door made of heavy plastic, with a clear pane at about the height of his waist. Barely peeking around the rim of the window, Raph could see one Foot with his gun leveled at the chest of a quivering teenage boy. Further out was another with a rifle barrel pressed flat against the back of an elderly woman where she was curled up on the ground in an aisle lined with oral care products.
So where were the other four?
On the other side of the store room door, he could see the breaker box. All he needed to do was to sneak out the door without being noticed and hit the main switch. He'd have the jump on 'em.
He inched the door open -
And a siren screamed.
"Shit!"
He scrambled for the breaker box and nearly ripped the little metal panel off its hinges right as two Foot appeared from between the aisles and opened fire. The store was plunged into darkness for a moment. Somewhere behind him in the storage room, a generator kicked on and emergency lights flooded the clinic in a dull orange glow.
Raph jumped away from the box and turned his back to the gun-fire, bullets ricocheting off in every direction. One of the soldiers yelped and staggered, hit by his own ammunition. The rest of the bullets buried themselves into the walls. Raph ran at the wall by the store room door, planted his feet and launched backward into the air, flipping over the two stunned and injured Foot. With a snap, he landed a heavy kick to the back of one, throwing him through a shelving unit full of batteries. He cracked the other, already on the ground clinging to his bloodied thigh, across the neck with an elbow. He crumpled. Somewhere behind him, the teenage cashier started to scream, but was cut off sharp and sudden.
Whirling around, he saw the gawky teen fall, his jaw broken by the butt of an small gattling gun. The Foot holding it was built like the Hulk in miniature, and he wielded the gat like it was made of paper. The behemoth turned the barrels on Raphael, the bullets barely nicking the edge of his shell as he tumbled into a stand of cough medicine. The thin plastic bottles crushed under his weight, covering him in sticky liquid that smelled like a gut-turning combination of cherry and rubbing alcohol.
Another Foot soldier dove at him, trying to grab Raph's legs. But his hands slipped across red liquid and smooth scales and the soldier lost his grip. Raph took the opportunity to plant a two-toed foot under his chin and launch him into the dropped ceiling. He disappeared into the cavernous space, shattering the dry wall tile and sending a rain of gypsum and foam onto a couple who were cowering next to a rack of condoms and lubricant.
Raph was suddenly very happy that he hadn't jumped the other direction.
"Nice shot."
Donnie appeared at his side with a grim smile.
"I cleared the two who were guarding the front door. How many did you take?" Don explained, as he extended his hand to help his brother up.
Raph accepted the hand and grunted, "Three. But we've still got the 'roid machine over there to worry about."
Donatello suddenly crinkled his nose and wiped his slick hand across the leather belt holding his gadgets.
"What are you covered in?" he demanded. "You smell like Robitussin."
Before Raph could snap back, the monster of a Foot stepped around the corner, leveling the rotating barrel of his gun at the brothers. They both flipped backward over adjacent aisles as the rest of the cough and cold section was obliterated. As powerful as the weapon was, it was difficult to control and overheated quickly, leaving the barrels steaming as it jammed up.
Suddenly, Donnie got an idea.
"Hey Raph, you remember how David took out Goliath?"
Raphael grinned from where he was crouched next to a demolished pile of baby wipes. "Ha! Hell yeah I do!"
They met in the center of the lane and locked wrists.
"With a slingshot!"
With a bone-wrenching jerk, Donatello was flying across the ground on his shell. He tucked his head and arms as he spun, and felt the crack of tibias as he collided with the brute's legs, throwing him into the air. Raph met the Foot in the air, planting both feet into his chest and burying him a foot deep into a wall of feminine products.
He helped Donnie up from where he kneeled dizzily on the floor.
"The bigger they are-"
"The harder they fall," Donnie finished. They high-threed. But their moment was cut short.
"Ms. Sinclaire, stay down!" The shout was shrill and desperate. There was a loud crack and a cacophony of noise.
"Stop! There's no need for that!" An older male voice.
"Jesus! Stop it! You're gonna kill her!" A young woman.
The last voice came as a hiss. "If you move one more time, I'm going to kill you."
The brothers crouched down low and picked their way over debris in complete silence. They moved toward the back of the store, where the pharmacy lay.
As they approached, Donnie felt the muscles across his shoulders tense and Raph swore quietly under his breath.
Phil was standing behind the kiosk, hands on his head, eyes trained on a Foot soldier who had a boot pressed into the throat of a elderly woman. Her face was turning purple as she clawed futilely at the man's leg with one hand. Her other arm lay twisted and obviously broken at her side. A few feet in front of him, almost to the metal emergency gate, was the young woman Donnie had spent the better part of a month watching.
Her hair was still in its messy plait, but her outerwear had been replaced by a starched white lab coat and a little plastic name plate with "New Team Member" emblazoned across it. She stood with her fists clenched at her side and an expression of abject loathing directed at the masked attacker.
"Now, now, dear, how about a smile?"
The girl spat at him. "Va te faire foutre!"
He cocked his head. "That's not very polite." He dug his heel harder into the woman's neck and she gurgled as her hand fell limply away.
"Fucker!" Raph jumped around the corner before Donatello could snatch him back by his scutes, and ran at the Foot with every intention of taking him out like a bulldozer.
He stopped dead in his tracks as the soldier pointed a long-barreled handgun at the girl through her iron cage. Less than ten feet from her, he couldn't have missed if he tried. Raphael skidded to a stop and glared, an almost mammalian growl slipping through his lips.
Donnie brought up the rear more slowly, taking in the scene in front of him.
One potential casualty, one intermediate threat, one high threat. Aggressor - unknown skill level. Status - Foot squad leader.
He deliberately avoided looking at the young technician and stepped forward.
"Who are you," he demanded.
"Ahh... Donatello," the soldier remarked with an odd degree of satisfaction. "They told me that you were the inquisitive one." He turned his attention toward the larger, red-banded brother. "And you must be the hot-headed Raphael. I've been waiting for you." The soldier turned his shoulders to face them, gun still trained on the girl in the security cage. He finally lifted his foot from the supine woman's throat.
She started breathing again in whistling gasps, though her face held its blotched purple cast. In his periphery, Donnie saw the girl's shoulders sag in relief.
One medical need, one intermediate threat, one high threat.
Raph spoke first. "The fuck you mean, 'waiting'?" His hands were clenched so hard, Donnie could hear his knuckles pop.
Something about the angle of his head, or his confident posture told Donnie that the masked soldier was pleased. "Well, I'd only heard stories of your strength and prowess, so I decided to invite you out to see for myself." His voice dropped to a tone that rang with malicious glee. "So glad you accepted my invitation."
Raph growled a string of obscenities so colorful, they would have made Mikey blush. Donatello shifted his weight and cast his eyes about the cramped space, trying to devise a way to get them all out with minimal damage. His roving gaze was arrested by a pair of eyes that stared at him with the kind of probing intensity he'd only seen from Master Splinter. The young woman was watching them, just as she watched the Foot and the Ms. Sinclaire on the ground. Though her arms hung loose at her side, her shoulders were tense and she leaned forward on one foot, as if ready to burst through the gate at their aggressor.
The Foot was speaking again, which drew his attention back to the present danger.
"Though, I have to admit, I am disappointed."
"And why is that," asked Donatello. Keep him talking, he thought. As long as he's talking, he's not acting.
The Foot chuckled, a sound more like the rattle of a snake than any sound a man would make. "I expected this to be over much quicker," he shrugged languidly. "However, I will make an allowance for the fact that two of your team are absent."
"How generous." The dry reply had come from the girl, right behind a short, humorless laugh.
"My my, what a mouth we have. Shouldn't you be more concerned with your position than my social graces?" He didn't even bother to keep his eyes on the turtles. Raphael took to opportunity to shift one sai from his belt to his hand, inverted to throw.
"As far as I see it," she folded her arms across her chest and cocked her hip in that sassy way that Donnie had seen her do when chatting with customers. Donatello watched her, anxiety building. "You've already made up your mind. You're either going to shoot me, or you're not. Just because you haven't chosen to share-with-the-class doesn't mean that anything I say or do can affect that decision."
The Foot soldier actually laughed then. Hearty peals that sounded like a metal file grinding down a pipe. "How very astute of you, child. It's a shame you're not kunoichi. I could use some recruits with a bit of fire in them. However..." He turned and looked straight at the turtles then.
"Donatello, it seems that I have lost your attention. Perhaps I should remedy this by removing your distraction?" Green eyes jerked toward the soldier and he braced his bo just as Raph buried his sai into the side of the gun, effectively jamming the firing mechanism.
But not before he'd unloaded half a clip into the young technician's chest.