Author's notes:
Welcome readers to the very first chapter to the story, and journey, of Double Helix! I have been working on Double Helix Part 1: Shaded Sunrise for a little over a year now, and the amount of anticipation that's coursing through me at the moment is both exciting and terrifying.
If you guys didn't catch it before in the prologue, there are codes to decipher at the end of each chapter. They aren't necessary to understanding the story, so you don't have to solve them, but they do reveal and foreshadow future events. Just thought that it'd give this fanfiction a little individuality, and I thought it might be fun for you guys. :)
Before I jump into the first chapter, I MUST thank every person who has helped me on this journey. Firstly, I'd like to thank Emily for encouraging me to chase this dream in the first place. She was the first person to believe in me and this story, and I can't thank her enough. She also has made me art for this, so thank you! Next, I'd like to thank my closest friend Melissa for also making me art, while also putting up with me in general. You're the best and ily! Of course, I have to thank my friend Liv for being my # 1 fan and for hyping me up so much. I probably would've given up if you hadn't been so kind and encouraging, so thank you so, so much. Thank you, Kassie for helping me with the title, lol! And yeah, shout out to my sister for helping with ideas when I had writer's block. ;p
Lastly, I have to thank my best friend Sarr (lukeyandlou) for being my editor and for giving so much of her time to help me out. I can never express my gratitude enough, but I will try my best to! She is also a big writing inspiration of mine, Fixing Donnie being one of my favorite pieces ever. Please check out her writing also!
Thank you to every single person who are reading/supporting me! You guys rock and I love you all! My Instagram is hamatomichelangelo if you want to contact me there.
I have to add—TMNT does NOT belong to me, and it never will. Now without further ado, Double Helix Part 1: Shaded Sunrise…
XXX
Chapter 1: Stolen Peace
The line was crisp and clear to Leonardo.
After years of diving deep into morality, exploring the deepest, darkest, crevices of his soul, the line had been established and certain, inking his world and seeing in black and white. Of course, he did believe in some gray areas—being the head of the household, he's had to make plenty of compromises—yet on this, his mind was locked and set.
His fingers wrapped around the cold metal. Fingertips smoothly glided acrossthe barrel, past the slide, and down to the trigger guard before instinct drew his hand back. Just the simple touch made his heart pump, anxious thoughts colliding with comfort and security. His emotions were contradictions, but his ideals were firm and set in stone.
Yet his ideals weren't always rock solid. Controversy would jumble and scatter his views, making it difficult at times to piece them back together. Right when he felt like he had puzzled in his belief, catastrophe would come to obliterate it all over again.
Leonardo had been affected by the devastation of guns a few months back, experienced the reality-ripping destruction. Gunshots still blared in his ears, horrific images still flashing behind his eyes, still disturbing him by how quick the small weapon was in taking life. Fear constantly festered inside him.
Fear was tamable, however, controlled and installed with a healthy amount of respect for the weapon. Respect helped blossom his strong belief in honor, creating and honing the harsh line, and knowing when it should and shouldn't be crossed.
The line of when it was necessary to bend the rules of morality—when wrong faded and twisted into right, when something became the lesser of two evils.
To know when it was not acceptable to send bullets through a human body.
Ever since he had witnessed the tragedy as a young man, he developed a strong desire to dissipate and unravel the corruption, to dismantle the negative symbolism, and to deliver peace to a shook society. To show the world that there was a proper balance. To protect the innocent, but mostly to protect his family. Because while his duty as a police officer meant to protect the people, his true job in this crazy world was to be able to care for his family.
And he wouldn't have it any other way.
The everyday sounds of ringing telephones, punching keys, and heavy footsteps dissolved into the background as Leo traversed the precinct, punctuality propelling his motives. Frantic chaos and busyness were elements he had adjusted to when he was a child, but the calamity in here stirred nervousness from time to time. Because in here it was a bigger deal. Here, there were responsibilities that fell onto his shoulders, and although the burden of responsibility was something he constantly carried, these just weighed the slightest bit more.
Leo made his way down the hallway, finding the closed briefing room door. He leaned against the wall, exhaling any jitters that managed to pin down his normally ambitious spirit.
He loved his job. He loved the fulfillment it gave him, the self-meaning and purpose to his young life. And even though his insecurities got to him now and then, he couldn't be happier with any other career.
Rolling up his sleeve, he glanced down at his wristwatch and followed the hand a few ticks. A bit early, but that was the way he liked it.
As soon as the door swung open, Leonardo quickly scrambled in, trying his best to look professionally eager. Settling himself down in the front row of the room, he positioned himself straight and tall. Healthy habits, he told himself; whatever he could to give himself a lasting impression.
Cobalt eyes trailed after the man that had opened the door, who had then stood behind his podium without a word. Chief Zeno was a stoic man, emotionally shut off and never let his guard down. Leo assumed it came with the job.
Words weren't being exchanged between the two, Leo feeling the sticky self-doubts returning and clinging onto him. He sunk in his chair, allowing himself to relax a little and to idly examine his surroundings.
The briefing room was a very plain room—empty walls, aligned rows of desks, and no windows to leisurely gaze through. Radios screeched from neighboring rooms, orders were continually barked, and each room in the entire station smelled strongly of Lysol and coffee. Everything was dull and gray, the only source of light being the fluorescent lightbulbs that would occasionally flicker above him. It was very atmospheric, but in an inconsiderably negative way. Leo scratched the itch on his arm, believing his uniform still hadn't been worn in yet.
With no other officers having come in still, Leo lightly drummed his fingers on the smooth wooden desk. It was cold to the touch, the air conditioner always being kept on at such a low temperature. He continued to subconsciously tap until the sense of another's presence stopped his action. Turning his head towards the door, he couldn't fully hide his warm smile as his field training officer—and friend—entered the room.
"Do you sprint all the way over here, or do you just wait outside the door?" Usagi joked, his almond eyes crinkling from his grin. Being only twenty-one and the youngest of the rookies definitely had its difficulties in matters of respect and faith for Leo. Though he tried to not let it discourage him, burning all the playful teasing and using it to fuel his actuation.
"Very funny," Leo covered his sheepishness with a smirk, "But it was a little bit of both."
Usagi went over and pulled out the chair besides Leo, chortling at his confession as he planted himself next to him. The young boy looked at his mentor, admiration truly shining in his eyes. Miyamoto Usagi had been a young student of his father, quickly transforming into a second role model for Leonardo.Perhaps Usagi had planted the initial idea of being a cop in his head, as well as to master ninjutsu like he had. To see Usagi as his father's pupil, to see the swelling pride his father had for him, Leo had begun to crave for it himself. His childish hunger never left, still desiring for his father's approval.
Even if times were different now.
"So," Usagi picked up the dialogue, "How did Michelangelo do yesterday?"
Innocent conversation lifted the burdening feel of the briefing room, anxieties being shunned and forced to cower from the light it brought. Usagi always seemed to calm his nerves in any situation.
Leo loosened up his stiff joints. "Well, you know how Mikey is with needles. I had to basically drag him out," he recalled, "I'm pretty sure he was hamming it up on purpose when he squealed like he did, it couldn't have possibly hurt that bad."
Usagi chuckled a bit at the story, "He will be fine, it is good that he gets his influenza shot before the season really kicks in. The child gets sick just by thinking about it."
"I know, he can't really help it though, his—"
"Role call."
Leo immediately straightened, attention grabbed and focus readjusted. Chief Zeno's deep voice hardly ever faltered, sounding dead serious and drained from most emotion, and it tended to rattle Leo's core. Zeno stood wooden, rooted in place like nothing or no one could bring him down. He was intimidating to say the least; chest puffed out, ready for the daily drill.
Leo quickly scanned the room to see that all the other officers of his shift had made their appearance as well. How they all managed to walk in without his full awareness completely eluded him. Maybe exhaustion was already kicking in.
Chief Zeno started calling out names, and Leo's mind automatically drifted to his home life. Home was almost as stressful as being here, if not more.Reminders floated and flurried in his head—reminders to pick up food for the cat, order another prescription, to pay for that electric bill he had been putting off, and plenty of other things that shouldn't even be concerns for a young man like himself. But that was the consequence that life rolled out for him.
"Hamato?"
As soon as his name hit his ears he broke out of his daydream. Leonardo perked up and raised his hand, answering with the most somber voice he could muster, "Present."
Chief Zeno gave him a stern look, continuing down the list as Leo mentally kicked himself for behaving unprofessionally. He centralized the moment at hand; he was still training himself to separate work and home life, since they always seemed to bleed onto each other in his mess of a mind.
After all names were announced and accounted for, Zeno penciled in the attendance and stared down at his podium in lumbering silence. The mood shifted, the air thickening and the room suddenly feeling slanted. Leo's spirit fell in sync with the environment, and something in his gut told him that something was off. Leo shared a look with Usagi, his brown eyes staring back and Leo could feel that they were in tune with each other. Chief Zeno fumbled with the remote for the projector, still stunned and waited for the machine to warm up. And for a split second, Leo swore he saw a spark of emotion in his wrinkled face. He swallowed hard.
"Let me just cut to the case here," Zeno said at last. The screen in the front of the room lit up with the welcoming logo.
"It has come to all of our attention, that there has been a sudden dramatic spike of gang activity circulating through out all of Manhattan."
Leo tensed. Low chattering hovered in the air.
The chief expanded on the information, "Resources tell us that this gang calls themselves the Purple Dragons. There have been reports of their crimes in the past, but they were said to have backed off. Guess they have some unfinished business."
Leo knew of the Purple Dragons—they were ruthless, damaging lives and taking things from people that were worth more than simple possessions. Vigilantes had crawled from the woodworks during that time, somehow watering down their ritual robbing before the MPD could dispose of them. And he was aware of their return—the violence was getting out of control just around his own neighborhood, causing concern and motherly worry for the safety of his family. Just the mere thought of the gang having the nerve to make a comeback made Leo's stomach churn.
"Recent accounts say they have been jumping people like crazy. Over the past few months, we've scraped up rough statistics to illustrate how serious this rising problem is."
Sometimes, things don't seem real until they're presented right before your eyes. The screen displayed the image, and Leo stared intently at the line graph, following its ups and downs. As his eyes climbed up the spike, his stomach sank lower and lower. Leo scrunched his nose—nervous tick.
"As you can see, the purple dragons have almost doubled in their activity in just these past few months than all their previous accounts combined..." Zeno trailed off. Again turning over to Usagi for any consolation, Leo was only greeted to a mirrored expression.
"Also," Chief Zeno picked announcement back up, "Some of you may be informed that our reports of missing children have increased as well."
Any conversation that floated in the room deflated into flattened silence. Missing cases were very common, but Leo believed it was the emphasis on children that really killed any lightheartedness. Leo's gaze fell to the floor.
"But the chances of the Purple Dragons being linked to it..." another painful pause, "We're not certain of the probability."
Purple Dragons attacking innocent and defenseless children? The crime seemed too heinous, even for the Purple Dragons. And yet the young man couldn't shake the sense of maliciousness poisoning his psyche.
Chief Zeno's demeanor darkened as he closed. "It is our duty to end this organization before it gets out of control. They may seem like they're getting the upper hand, but they're right in the palm of ours. Don't let them slip through your fingers."
Don't let them slip through your fingers, repeated over and over in Leo's head, drilling deep into his skull. But he replaced Zeno's voice with the voice of another man. A man he loved, a man he missed so dearly. And one last time, he looked over to his mentor, the two communicating only through the specks of light in each other's eyes. Luckily, Leo could translate the voiceless language. Usagi smiled. And Leo smiled back.
"Now since that is out of the way," Leo snapped out of it, Zeno sounding much more relaxed and like his usual self, "Here are today's assignments..."
Hence Chief Zeno began, handing out tasks for every officer in the room.
"Officer Hollings, BOLO on Lairman Drive, reports of Purple Dragons have been pouring in from that neighborhood."
"Officer Donaldson, scan the entire uptown range, reports say that the Astin's kid was last seen around the general area."
"Officer Prescott, BOLO on..."
Eager and excitement and exhilaration flowed through Leo's veins, the idea of diminishing crime sounding extra enjoyable.
Officer after officer, assignments after assignments, Leonardo and Usagi waited for their responsibility for the day, leaving Leo to wonder what his mission would be.
But the wait kept being drawn out, every person going before him until he and his field training officer were the last ones.
It almost looked like Zeno had forgotten, before he added at the end, "Oh, and Miyamoto, you and Hamato need to go down to Orchard Glenn High School at around eight o'clock—the Homecoming game is tonight and you need to direct traffic. You all are dismissed."
Leo couldn't help but frown. All this mention of dangerous gang violence and missing people, and yet he was being sent to unclog a high school parking lot. It didn't seem like a productive action for him. He knew he was capable of doing more—that more needed to be done. Something boiled up inside him, flaring up passion in his soul.
Leonardo pushed out of his chair,and took a confident stride towards the Chief's podium. And suddenly he felt like a force of nature, true grit and determined sentiment and fiery disgust being whipped up by strong gusts of wind. A hurricane of a plethora of powerful, prideful emotions all swirling just underneath his skin. The Purple Dragons were going to be struck down, and he was going to be the one launching lightning bolts.
The soft touch of a gentle hand caught Leo slightly off guard. "Leonardo, what are you doing?" Usagi asked, "We should be heading out to inspect the patrol car."
Leo didn't answer, but only removed the hand that got in his way.
He stood next to the podium, his desires still thundering in his heart as he stole Chief Zeno's attention.
"Excuse me, Chief Zeno." Leo cleared his throat, clearing away any hint of weakness in his voice.Chief Zeno ever-so-slightly glanced up from his files, obviously unamused to be disturbed.
"Is there a problem Officer Hamato?" he asked with a blatant tinge of annoyance.
"Not to undermine your authority Chief Zeno, but I think you've made a mistake by assigning me and Officer Miyamoto to traffic control."
"Is that so?" Zeno raised an eyebrow, Leo now taken aback. But the storm still raged inside him, and he wasn't about to give up quite yet.
"With all due respect, I believe that my FTO and I are capable of handling an assignment that involves the Purple Dragons. We can help end this."
"Leonardo," Usagi harshly whispered, "Let it go."
"You should listen to your FTO more often, rookie," the chief towered over him, silencing his storm and causing him to suddenly feel small. "Don't assume that I don't know what I'm doing. I assigned the other officers with the number one issue because they have way more experience than you do. You're just a kid. Besides, we need someone to make sure those reckless teenagers drive safely tonight."
"But—"
"And if you ever disrespect my decisions again, you can kiss this position goodbye. Do you understand?"
Leo nodded in embarrassment. He couldn't even look Zeno in the eye anymore, his previous spunk fading out and humiliation taking its place. But before Leo unglued himself from the scene, Zeno puffed out a hot breath, becoming the most down-to-earth he had ever seen the man be.
"You want to get involved with this Purple Dragon business?" he said sternly, "Prove to me you're ready, Officer Hamato. Until then, you do as you're told."
And the fierce storm finally died. His previous passion was zapped, disappointment left to reverberate where his glimmering pride once was.
"Come on Leonardo, let's go check the patrol car."
Leonardo sighed in defeat, following Usagi out of the briefing room.
Entering into the main center was like entering into an angry beehive; officers zipped from each corners of the precinct, voices accumulating into just one big buzz of noise. Usagi lead the way, Leonardo letting himself fall behind.
Perhaps he was a little over his head, but his motives were in the right place. And he did truly believe in what he said—he knew he was capable, despite what others had to say about his age and experience. Against all his insecurities, something in his body knew that he could fight off the gang crimes. He had the guts, he had the leadership skills.
Prove to me you're ready, Officer Hamato.
And that's exactly what he was going to strive to do. Nothing was going to stop him from his current job of inspecting the patrol car—until a man in a fedora caught the corner of his eye.
Leostopped in his tracks, Usagi now way ahead of him. It was Detective Kurtzman, shooting the breeze and having an early morning conversation with an assumed friend or partner. Leonardo watched, still deciding whether he should approach him.
He watched the detective use hand gestures, saw him laughing with the coworker as he made himself a cup of coffee. Kurtzman was crawling towards retirement—his graying hair being evident of that—but the man had such a youthful spirit, and Leo could tell that it would be a difficult change for him.
It had been a few days since he last spoken with Detective Kurtzman. It was starting to become routine, and he was certain that both Usagi and Kurtzman were starting to see it as a habit. But he couldn't help himself. Maybe...
He heard Usagi's footsteps clopping towards him, "Leonardo, are you not—"
"Hold on Usagi, I'll be right back." And at this point, Usagi didn't even have to ask where he was off to.
Leo sauntered over to Kurtzman, downplaying any meddling appeal in his demeanor. The other officer had excused themselves upon Leo's arrival, opening the door for Kurtzman to speak solely to him.He offered Leo a warm look as he simultaneously stirred the creamer in his paper cup.
"Hey Jack," Leo said, attempting to sound nonchalant.
"Hey Leonardo, how are things back at the Hamato household?" Kurtzman askedgenuinely. He had met the detective almost a year ago, and since then, the two kept in touch. Ever since...
"We're doing great..." Leo tapped his foot anxiously.He really tried to bundle up his curiosity, but of course the act fell through. Sighing, he gave up, prepared to ask his almost daily question. But as soon as he looked up at Jack, the answer was already written on his sympathetic face.
"H-Have you found..." but Leo stopped himself.
Sadly, Jack Kurtzman slowly shook his head. "Sorry kid, this case has us all stumped. But we'll keep trying, and once we have some new information, I'll let you know right away."
And that was what he always told him. Leo felt his hopes plunge, spiraling down the vortex of despondency.
"Alright," he nodded solemnly, "Thank you."
Jack tipped his hat, taking his steaming coffee and disappearing up the flight of stairs.
It was unnecessary for the expected news to get to him, so he turned back to his FTO and picked up the pace as he sped back.
Usagi had waited for him, patience a strong virtue that Leonardo would always be grateful for.
"So?" Usagi walked by his side, "Do they have any new leads?"
"Nope, of course not," Leo shrugged, "Guess it was meant to be remained a mystery." He hadn't intended on sounding irritated, but his tone must've implied it. Usagi let out a deep breath, placing his hand on his shoulder once more.
"Finding the culprit is not going to change what happened, nor will it bring you any peace. Leonardo...maybe you need to let this go as well."
Leo only gave it a split second of thought before dismissing the idea.
"Let's just focus on today. We have a car to inspect."
Usagi seemed to drop it, knowing he dove into a sore subject.
Letting go of a discussion with the chief was doable, but Kurtzman's case was a whole other story.
Because Leonardo would never let go of his father's murder.
XXX
"But have you ever tried eating hotdogs with jelly before? You wouldn't believe how many things sound disgusting, but taste so awesome."
Michelangelo was a master at maneuvering around Roosevelt High School's hallways with his back turned.Twisting and turning around straining students, the static of high school life brittlely nipped from behind him, but that didn't prevent him from performing his useful skill.
Monday mornings mainly served sour moods, so Mikey loved to sprinkle amusing anecdotes to break monotonous routine and to try and zap away any negative energy that plagued his lethargic friends. Because electricity seemed to constantly rush through his veins during the day, always at a very high voltage that it couldn't always be contained. His bubbly excitement was contagious—or at least, he hoped it was. And having this surplus of bundling energy caused the kid to be way ahead, so in order for him to engage in better conversation, he walked backwards to face his three best friends—Jason, Napoleon, and Renet.
"Jelly hot dogs?" Jason scrunched up his nose in distaste, "I don't think I'd even eat that for like, fifty bucks." Ecru cascaded and rested on his shoulders, the top of his head hidden under the baseball cap he adjusted. A true mascot for teenage spirit, Jason was overt and expressive about his youthful passions of skateboarding and rock bands, yearning to share his loves with everyone in hopes of conversion. Although totally embraced and accepted by his close peers, the teen's vivacious personality had its drawbacks, as he often carried an arrogant attitude. This causes him to be prone to being close-minded and occasionally judgmental. But his heart was bigger than his ego, despite the teenage mindset—a reliable friend Mikey could count on.
"Now normally, I'm not one to judge what someone eats," Napoleon wagged a finger, "But I think I'd draw the line at jelly dogs." In comparison, Napoleon had a more tranquil aura than Jason. He was like crystal-clear water, taking shape based on his surroundings and going with the flow. Transparent, honest. He was one with nature—organic, fresh-faced, and blessed with ignorance that gave him childlike fate. With lanky legs and arms like branches, Napoleon's tree-like structure surpassed all of his friends' height—a tad ironic given the name. Mikey looked up to him in more than a figurative sense as Napoleon shook his head, muttering to himself about how "Jelly and hotdogs should remain separate."
"I'd be down to try it," Renet shrugged, "Who knows, it could turn out to be something I love." And then there was Renet. A sweet gum drop she was, light constantly beaming from her smile. The two had befriended each other years ago, souls only inching closer and closer until they were practically intertwined.
Innocent and authentic, she would transform every chance into an adventure. Her presence was pure and warm—something that melted his heart and spread sunshine throughout his whole body.
Renet was just like that; always at such a high, always all in with no strings attached. Free-falling with faith as her only safety net.
Mikey snickered at his friends' varied reactions as he unknowingly kneaded his sore arm from the vaccination he had been given the day before.
"Well, you should!" he nodded towards Renet, "It's really a weird story how that culinary masterpiece came to be, actually. I used to eat it all the time as kid before—"
Air suddenly whizzed past his ears, but it was too late for him to register that a door was being opened. His friends flinched when his head banged against the swinging door, Mikey stumbling forward a bit upon impact. Maybe he wasn't such a master at blindly sailing through the school halls after all.
"Are you ok, Mikey?" Renet stifled a laugh, Jason and Napoleon failing to do so.
Mikey rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I have a pretty thick skull," he assured, "I'm ok."
Perhaps he was ok, but after scanning the woman stepping out of the room, he knew something wasn't. This Monday morning's routine would definitely rupture, and not because of his jelly dog story. Mikey gently pushed his blonde bangs out of his eyes.
The woman was clearly a staff member, one that Mikey couldn't quite recognize. But he was one of the incoming freshmen—he hadn't had the time to meet everyone just yet. Her stiff pantsuit, however, gave him a clue as to what her character was.
A stack of fresh-off-the-press papers were in her hands, the lines on her face revealing that the woman was clearly distraught by the information she held. The others noticed the woman as well, but maybe in not as much detail as Mikey had.
Jason narrowed his chestnut eyes, "Hey, you just like, totally hit our friend with your door. Aren't you gonna say something to him?"
"Jason," Renet tugged him by the sleeve, whispering harshly, "don't talk to the principal like that! Are you stupid?"
Mikey's eyes widened at the realization, straightening himself and blowing the pom-pom from his beanie that dangled in the middle of his forehead. Mrs. Campbell was rumored to be a very strict, hardhearted principal. He didn't need to get detention during the first month of school—Leo would never let it go.
Jason's voice seemed to have snapped her back, her eyes glossy as she ran fingers through her graying, undone hair.
She cleared her throat, "Oh, I didn't see you there, my apologies. Are you alright?" Her voice was soft and distant as her facial expression fell back into place. It was a bit unnerving hearing her so wistful.
"Totally fine dude," Mikey repeated himself, curiosity pouring in and drowning out everything else. He curled his fingers around his backpack straps tightly, trying his best to discreetly examine the papers in her hands.
But he didn't need to be discreet. Mrs. Campbell reached into her pocket and pulled out a dispenser of tape, sticking one of the papers onto the glass of the door. She shook her head.
"It's a shame," she said to them, "I hope this gets resolved."
Mikey leaned closer into Renet, uneasiness dizzying him as he grew tempted to wrap around her arm.
Peering over her shoulder, harshness crept into Mrs. Campbell's features. "You four should be getting to class, the bell is about to ring." The normalcy should've soothed him, should've cinched him that whatever was going on wasn't serious, but it didn't.
High heels clacked against the hard floor, Mrs. Campbell halting beside Jason to give him a dissonant glare. "And you—get a haircut."
But before Mikey could ask what she had meant earlier, Mrs. Campbell disappeared down the hall, revealing the poster on the door.
Stomach dropping three stories, Michelangelo's world liquefied like water color, washing out sound and fading all chromaticity. Reality hammered his ribs, wrenching his gut and making him gasp as he transfixed on the paper against the glass.
MISSING: PETER BROOD
A shiver went down his spine; it was a missing person poster. Below the blocked letters was the yearbook photo of freshman Peter Brood; messy brown hair, round, thick glasses, and a big toothy grin that snagged Mikey's heart.
Head underwater, Mikey took a wobbly step closer, delicately tracing the picture with his fingertips as if he could somehow connect with the boy underneath the grooves of his fingerprints.
Muddled voices broke through the surface.
"What did she mean 'get a haircut'? Do you know how long it took to grow this out?" Jason complained, but was hushed by a smack from, he guessed, Napoleon.
Footsteps thudded behind him.
"Mikey, did you know this guy?"
But he said nothing. Bits of broken memories strewn to all quarters of his mind; pieces of speeches from Leonardo at the dinner table about an increase of vanishing young people. It hadn't affected him too much then, but now as his fingers ghostly glided over the face of a familiar boy, it had finally struck a chord.
"Mikey?"
Suddenly, reality sucked him back in like a vacuum as he quickly turned around to face Renet.
"W-Well," his voice cracked from being so parched, "We weren't super, but I consider him a friend. We have the same English class."
Concern laced her frown, sadness in her caramel eyes.
Jason soon bent over to take a look. "Peter Brood," he read aloud, "Hey, wasn't he that guy who was obsessed with carrier pigeons?"
Napoleon snapped his fingers, "Pigeon Pete! I knew I heard of him before."
"Yeah, he was a real freak." Jason sniggered, though the laughter opened a gateway for guilt to snake into Mikey.
"Yeah, he was weird," Mikey couldn't lie, "kind of awkward, creepy even." And yet he felt the dull ache of sympathy roll in his chest. He continued to read the poster.
Last seen on Friday, September 9th at 10:00 p.m.
"That was just last Friday," Mikey voiced his thoughts.Frowning, he reminisced in his times with Pete. He bowed his head, staring at the tiles on the floor. Yellow, green, yellow, green. Guilt wrapped its tentacles with a vice grip around his conscience. Yellow, green, yellow, green.
"You know, he'd always tell me the randomest stories about his pigeons before class started. No one else would bother to listen to him—I could've been, like, his only friend in the entire world."
Images strobed behind his eyelids, ones of Peter sharing his tall tales with wild hand gestures and the widest smile you would've ever seen.
Silence lingered, Mikey lifting his head up a bit to see his three friends trade glances with each other.
"Well," Jason said to him, "he probably just got in a fight with his parents and ran away from home or something. I bet he'll come back by Wednesday." Jason craned himself away from the door, walking down the path they were heading before this whole interruption. Mikey could tell that his friend was making an effort to lessen his worry, but it didn't quite do the trick.
"Why would he run away from home? He didn't seem to be unhappy with his family before." Mikey shoved his shaky hands in his worn-out sweatshirt pocket.
"Sometimes people surprise us," Napoleon said, following Jason's lead.
"Deep,"Jason smirked, nudging Napoleon's shoulder. A ghost of a smile tugged at Mikey, but he couldn't quite shake off the news yet.
The school bell chimed, almost as if it was attempting to remind him he had other things to stress about. Seeing Jason and Napoleon already on their way, Mikey looked over to see Renet still by his side.
"The police will find him," she spoke up, tucking a strand of her light brown hair behind her ear.
Mentioning police transported him back home, recalling his eldest brother, Leonardo. Leo had that stubborn quality to him when it came to his job as a police officer, surely he would find him. Even if he knew deep down that that wasn't how it worked, it was assuring to put Leo on his heroic pedestal like he tended to do.
"Yeah...the police will find him," Mikey repeated to himself in affirmation, ceasing the trembling in his hands. And it was after that statement that Michelangelo decided to drop it for now, for his friends' sakes. It was only Monday after all; he needed to keep things lively throughout the whole school week, he couldn't fall apart now. He nodded at Renet, trekking his way to the class he'd be late to.
No one in his English class expressed any hint of caring about Mikey's late arrival, and he connoted that the other classmates grew accustom to his habits. Cold air stuck to his skin while bile burned the back of his throat at how his world didn't seem to account the loss. Like Peter Brood's disappearance was all an elaborate prank, or like him being missing didn't even matter—how desperate he wished for this to be a practical joke.
Pushing through the thick barrier of teen gossip, the boy trudged his way over to his lonely desk. Isolated and abandoned it looked, Mikey sighing before plopping down in his seat. He rubbed his sore arm.
Should he dare to look back? Should he dare allow that upon himself? The thing about Mikey was that he almost never could pass up a dare.
And so he turned around. And not surprisingly, the desk was vacant. All emotions came to a screeching stop, suspended in his desolate body. This wasn't a prank—it was all genuine. He endured the sharp pain of his optimism tediously tearing apart from him, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from where his friend was supposed to be. Waiting and hoping he would somehow magically appear in his chair, going off on an excuse about how his pigeons were to blame—though hope was dwindling with each blink.
"Listen up class. Some of you might not have heard..."
Waiting and waiting...
"...but a student from this class has gone missing..."
And waited and waited.
XXX
Plucking strings vibrated and echoed; a sound that should've brought him serenity, but didn't. Instead, he found his heart being swayed by the vibration, his chest rattling with pangs of guilt. Gentle guitar hit his ears, but it never stayed. It just rippled right through him, hallow and cold.
"Mikey!"
His name hooked Mikey's mind, yanking him back to shore from swimming in his thoughts. He looked over to his older brother Raphael, guitar resting on his lap and annoyance written all over his face.
"Were you even listening to me at all?" Raph said.
Copper eyes were sharp and seemingly unforgiving, dark hair almost long enough to cover one of them. It was almost comedic how much of a rocker vibe radiated from his seventeen-year-old brother, and it most definitely intrigued Mikey. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, and all. He found it fun and expressive and exhilarating, and he enjoyed tagging along on his brother's wild ride to self-discovery. Leonardo, on the other hand, was not so charmed, constantly complaining about how ridiculous his half-shaven hairstyle was and how irresponsible he was becoming. But no matter how much of a tough-guy act Raph would put up, his true nature was pretty transparent to Michelangelo.
In this instant, however, it was evident that Raphael was genuinely irritated. Mikey came clean and shook his head.
Raph scowled. "Airhead."
Mikey stuck his tongue out, but concerns continued to cling onto him, so he didn't bother to throw an insult back. He simply shifted on the couch, readjusting so that he could sink deeper into the cushion, and sink and drown further in his worries. He flicked the pompom dangling from his earflap beanie.
The homely Manhattan apartment was a culture clash, their Japanese-Italian heritage colorfully displayed for everyone to take notice. Bamboo silk trees and rustic Tuscan paintings, fancy wine bottles and Japanese sayings hung on the walls. One wouldn't suspect for something so hardy and something so fine to ever harmoniously fuse together; the two would simply just not create a homogenous mixture. But in fact, the interior design just so happened to fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle.
Though it was obvious that there were missing pieces in their family now.
Framed above the cabinets in the kitchen was a Japanese saying that Mikey hadn't took the time to read in quite some time. Baby blue eyes scanned the symbols, the boy trying his best to distract himself from his heartache.
"Kokestu ni irazunba koji wo ezu."
If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub. Meaning, that nothing in life could ever be accomplished without motivation and willingness to take risks. Wheels began to turn, cogs clinking and churning as Michelangelo indulged himself in this proverb, applying it to his own situation at hand. Soon, his comfort became uncomfortable. Sitting here, safe and sound while his friend...
The question revealed itself: Was he willing to take the risks?
"You ok, Mikey?" Mikey heard Donatello call out from the kitchen behind him. The kid pushed his thoughts away and his legs up, standing on the couch cushion as he rotated around to see his tallest brother reheating cold pizza in the microwave. "While I enjoy the silence probably more than anyone, it's starting to become unnerving coming from you."
Donatello must've been the most over-analytical sixteen-year-old Mikey would ever have the pleasure of knowing, even if sometimes it wasn't such a pleasure. This brother of his was blessed with keen insight and bright intelligence, though ironically it would often shine so bright it would blind simple solutions and answers.
"I'm fine Donnie," Mikey assured. The microwave beeped and Donnie pulled the pizza out.
"You haven't said much since we got home from school," he set the sizzling pizza on the counter and made his way towards him. "Are you feeling ok?"
Donnie extended a hand toward Mikey's forehead, but Mikey grabbed and twisted his wrist before he could touch. "I'm not sick D," he chuckled softly at his catch, "Don't be such a worrywart—I just have a lot on my mind. Or rather just one mega, humongous, colossal thing on my mind."
"You? Thinking? Don't hurt yourself."
"Quiet Raph," Mikey whipped his head around to give him a pout. Raph only responded with a smirk from the ottoman by the heater, nonchalantly bolstering his guitar against the wall and pushing the hair out of his eye.
"Well then, what's making you such a mopey mess?" Donnie asked, patience wavering.
So Mikey took a deep breath, attempting his best to exhale his heavy worries. "I'm just upset about Pete," he admitted, feeling as though he had shrunk.
"Pete? Who's Pete?" the casual tone in Raph's voice caused Mikey's fears to feel fluidly. Was itrelieving, or was itdisturbing?
Raph stood and squished his toes into the carpet,cruising into the kitchen to bury his head into the fridge.
"Is Pete the kid who went missing last Friday?" Donnie asked. Donnie was invariably on the same page, never failing to connect the dots. He was a genius like that.
Mikey jumped off the couch and nodded vigorously, "Yeah! He's in my English class. People call him Pigeon Pete because he has a bunch of pet carrier pigeons."
"Oh, Pigeon Pete," Raph said in between guzzling milk from the carton, "yeah, that kid's a nutcase."
Defenses began to build up.
"Well yeah, but he was my nutcase-friend," Mikey told them. His stomach knotted at the idea of someone from his class being in harm's way. A little too close to home, a little too close for comfort.
"Don't worry about it Mikey, I'm sure he'll turn up eventually. He probably just went to a friend's house and didn't tell his parents or something." Donnie picked at the pizza on his plate.
How could everyone brush this aside like Pete's some lost puppy? Mikey wondered if they were all just being overprotective and sparing his feelings.
"That's what my friends were saying...but what if something, you know, happened to him?" Mikey argued anxiously.
Raph joked, "What if he just flew off to live a new life as a pigeon?"
And he tried to imagine that, tried to hope for the best that whatever the situation was, that it wasn't as grave as he believed it was. He took a calming breath.
"Well, maybe. If that was what really happened to Pete, I'd totally support that." Mikey said with the purest honesty.
Just then, the clinking of keys came from outside the door.
"Don't worry, I promise it won't take long," Mikey heard the familiar voice say from out in the hall.
The front door popped open, Leonardo entering the apartment with tired eyes, a bag of cat food balanced on his hip, and a friend by his side.
Mikey felt a smile stretch from ear to ear.
"Usagi!" he had burst, previous sadness temporarily sizzling away. Mikey wrapped his arms around Usagi, causing him to stumble backwards by the sudden collision.
The man laughed, ruffling Mikey's golden hair, "Hello Michelangelo. How is your arm?"
Mikey let go, instinctively rubbing his sore arm. "You told him?" he glowered up at his oldest brother, who was smirking back at him. "Not cool dude," Mikey jutted his lip, speculating just how many embarrassing details Leo told him. He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep them from glowing any shades of red.
Leo playfully shoved him with his free arm, setting down the cat food onto the marble kitchen counter.
"Hey Leo, hey Usagi, what are you guys doing here?" Donnie entered the conversation, "Come to take Raph away?"
"Hardy har har," Raph rolled his eyes, finally shutting the fridge to see his brother and friend.
It wasn't until Donnie made the humorous comment that Mikey perceived that the two were still fully uniformed.
"We aren't staying," Leo informed them, "We have to direct traffic downtown. Just came by to drop off food for the cat and to make you guys dinner."
Mikey bristled. "You? Make dinner? Why can't I do it?"
Leonardo was capable of multiple skills, but cooking was not one of them. That department was definitely dominated by Mikey. It was his way of coping when he had to start abiding by his strict diet plan a few years back.
"Of course you could do it again," Leo opened the cupboards, "But I didn't think you'd want to considering how much "pain" you're in."
"You act like I broke my arm!"
Usagi and Donnie's sniggering could be heard, making Mikey's ears burn.
"Well that's how you acted yesterday. Besides, I just want to have a mental break and do something else before going back out again. Look, how about I feed you guys, while you feed your cat."
Michelangelo understood the overwhelming amount of stress and pressure Leo was under these days and couldn't find it in him to fight over it. Sighing, Mikey snatched the bag of cat food off the counter. "Fine, fine."
Tearing it open, he made a clicking noise with his tongue, calling out for his precious feline.
"C'mere Klunk! I've got your dinner all ready for ya!" the boy traipsed over to the bowl on the kitchen tile, kicking it so that the metal would clang.
It only took a matter of seconds for the orange fur ball to come prancing down the hallway, mewing excitedly.
"Hey there little mama, how have you been hmm?" he got on his knees and poured the kibble, petting her and causing her to purr.
Hearing pots clashing compelled Mikey to return his focus to his own meal.
"Well, you can at least tell me what you're making so I can make the perfect excuse as to why I can't eat it," he snared to Leonardo.
"You'll be happy to know," he said over his shoulder, "I'm making Mom Spaghetti."
"That's a relief," Raph plopped himself on the stool by the counter.
Mikey's eyes widened with animation as he went to tug his friend's sleeve, "You want some Mom Spaghetti, Usagi?"
But he only smiled. "It's alright, I can provide for myself. Leonardo, I will be back to pick you up so we can head out."
"See you then."
Mikey sat besides Raph, elbows on the countertop and chin resting in the palms of his hands. He observed Leo's movements in the kitchen, itching to correct and show off his culinary skills and tricks. But he held back the temptation—Leo tended to wish to do things by himself.
Once the pasta was made, Leoeddiedhimself around. "Spaghetti is done—where's Donnie?"
Mikey hauled himself up as if pulled by puppet strings. "He said something about already eating leftovers and having homework to do."
Donatello was often found secluding himself in the confinements of his room, especially recently. They all assumed that it was his way of dealing with stress and change.
Leo lightly shook his head disconcertingly, placing the pot and dishes in front of Mikey and Raph.
Mikey didn't waste any time as he grabbed a plate, scooping the noodles and splatting some sauce (or gravy—whatever the darned thing was called).
"So," Leonardo leaned against the kitchen island, "was your guys' day any better than mine?"
Mikey stopped midway twisting his fork, raising his eyebrows. It seemed like he was always being cornered and lead to dead-ends.
"Probably," Raph interrupted Mikey's thoughts, "nothing really happened. But I'm going to go and rehearse with Casey tomorrow."
Stuffing his mouth full of spaghetti, the youngest tried to avoid having to answer.
"Mikey? What about you?"
The boy shot his head up, a noodle dangling from his lips.
"Welllll," food fell from his mouth as he stared at Leonardo. Might as well get the news over with, no matter how badly he didn't want those presentimentsto resurface.
"Someone from school named Pigeon Pete—well his name is Peter Brood, but everyone nicknamed him Pigeon Pete because he has a weird thing for pigeons—I found out today that he was missing, he was on a missing poster and everything! Like the ones you see on milk cartons and stapled to trees, and he's been missing since last Friday—that's four days! Everyone says he's probably fine, but I know him, I doubt he'd just take off like that without any notice or anything, and—"
"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down Mikey," Leo instructed. He took a deep breath as to demonstrate an example he should follow; Mikey mirrored the exercise but it didn't seem to do much. Bedevilment still burned his bones, regardless of his oldest brother's attempts at comfort. Leo furrowed his eyebrows in seriousness, concentration wrinkling his forehead. "So a friend of your's from school went missing?
"Yeah," Mikey stabbed his fork into his dinner, "and nobody seems to care but me."
"Hey, now that's not true. I understand that this has an effect on you."
"I just can't help but feel like something happened to him. What if he was..." Mikey left the thought hanging. Gut now coiling, his heart began to pound against the walls of his chest.
"Look at you two—you guys are both gonna get gray hairs if you keep acting like this," Raph told them, "Where's your usual annoying optimism, Mikey?"
He shot a side glance to his brother and then brought it back to his plate. That was a good question. Where was it? The answer, "I don't know."
"And Leo," Raphael raised his eyebrows suggestively, "they're handling the situation down at the station, right?"
Leo nodded, standing upright, "Right, you're right."
"Then alright," Raph shoved in a mouthful of spaghetti to conclude the discussion.
Mikey only let out a low whine, chewing slowly with a moue on his freckled face. Memories threatened to prick at his eyes; he rubbed them just to ensure that nothing spilled over.
The sudden soft touch of a brother's hand made him avert his eyes upward.
Leonardo was smiling with condolence, the signature twinkle in his sapphire eyes shining extra luminously.
"C'mon, go and watch T.V or something to keep your mind off of it."
T.V sounded nice, almost therapeutic at the moment. Nodding in obedience, Mikey slid off the counter stool and cantered over to T.V on the other side of the apartment.
Luckily, he had hidden the remote from Raphael in between the couch cushions last night. Rummaging through the leather cushions, he fished out the remote and he clicked the power button with ease.
But his usual cartoons weren't displayed on the screen, but rather Channel Six News. Reporter Carlos Chiang O'Brien Gambe's countenance didn't complement his words, almost like he were a poorly dubbed anime. Mikey stiffened, sensing Leo and Raph coming up behind him.
"...several authorities are advising minors to stay indoors by nine o'clock to ensure their safety. These so called "Purple Dragon" gang members have proven to be a violent threat, and it's no coincidence that their crime activity spiked at the same time as the rate of missing persons. So keep an eye out for your kids, and steer clear of any suspicious activity."
The remote hit the floor. A commercial for a furniture sale. Jello legs. Butterflies ebbed and nipped in the pit of his stomach, throat closing up.
"Don't think I'm not going to enforce this curfew," Leo's voice sounded far away as Mikey's theorizations sped and zipped to all corners of his mind, buzzing like electricity. Though his eyes were fixated at the flickering screen, he paid no attention to his sense of sight to solely devote every fiber of his body and mind to the news he was trying to calculate.
Gangs and violent threats and Peter Brood and missing persons and Purple Dragons.
And a new word he conjured up himself—kidnap.
Kidnapped, kidnapped, kidnapped—it drummed in his ears and rushed in his veins.
Mikey blinked hard, backing away from Raph and Leo's debate over curfew until he was pressed against the wall.
"Pete..." he whispered to himself, "Oh man..."
A door creaked, footsteps coming after that.
Donatello's utterance was laced with gentleness yet curious concern, "Mikey? What's—"
The overstimulation grew to be too overwhelming.
"Don't you see guys?!" Mikey suddenly shouted, creating a blanket of silence to fall over the three older brothers. "Those dragon dudes took Pigeon Pete!"
Leonardo, Raphael, and Donatello all offered him blank stares before one of them had the courage to speak up first.
"I think you're jumping to conclusions."
"No I'm not Donnie," he whirled to his left to see the surprised look on Donatello, "What else could've happened?! They took Peter!"
They had to have had. It was the only solution that made perfect sense. Pete was kidnapped, ripped apart from his life. They did this.
"Why would the purple dragons kidnap kids? That doesn't seem like their kind of style," Raph tried to point out.
Donnie weakly backed him up, "Yeah, besides, you know the media likes to twist the truth."
"They didn't have to twist the truth about Pete, because he's actually missing. Him, and a lot of other people. I know the Purple Dragons took them, I can feel it in my gut. And...and we gotta do something about it!" Mikey stamped his foot for emphasis.
Raph threw his hands up in frustration and exasperation, "What are you proposing we should do? Huh? Ask them nicely?"
Mikey could definitely do without the sarcasm.
"I don't know! But we can't just do nothing!"
"Trust me Mikey, when I say police are all over it. They'll find them," Mikey watched Leo step towards his direction.
"Yeah, because they've already found so many other people." The snide remark had rolled off his tongue without much foresight. Leonardo froze, taken aback by the comment and looking almost offended by it. But what was said was said, and right now Michelangelo was too heated to care.
Because no one seemed to be grasping the big picture he was trying to portray, no one even bothered to try to understand. This wasn't just Peter, this wasn't just the Purple Dragons. This was for everyone, including themselves. The lack of inclination and intrigued interest shocked him. They all possessed the power inside them to end this, and prevent any other event like it—he felt it.
It was his seventh sense for him to detect these kinds of misfortunes and suspicions, and perhaps they could all benefit from that.
If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub.
"You know, this whole thing could be like a sign," he unattached himself from the wall, picking up a pace. "Maybe we were meant to do this! Protect the innocent civilians of Manhattan!" The suppressed idea began to overflow out of Mikey, eagerness filling his being; like the puzzle was becoming whole again. "Helping people! This could be our whole life's meaning! We've got to help them!" He planted himself and finally looked up at his family. "I've got to help them."
They were moved by his speech for about a second or two. Donatello and Leonardo both crossed their arms, Raphael's hands clenched.
"Mikey, you've gone completely looney," Raph spat, pointing a menacing finger directly at him, "You better swear to god that you aren't going to get yourself tangled up with these gangs."
Fate in his brothers deteriorated, desperation failing to hide itself.
"But—"
"Michelangelo," all three said simultaneously.
Their previous blank stares transformed into eyeing him with looks as sharp as daggers. They penetrated right through, making the child feel vulnerable and defeated in more than one way.
And he knew well that he was alone.
The boy gained his bearings, mustering up his last bit of courage and giving them all one last hard look.
"Dad would've wanted us to do this."
Michelangelo then stormed off, slamming the door so that it could speak when the rest of the world fell silent.
XXX
Preview for Chapter 2: Solidifying Identities !
April clamped a hand over his mouth, shushing him and yanking him by the sleeve.
It was almost sad to see Casey seemingly implacable and so desperate as he searched for something to destroy.
"Did someone find Pigeon Pete?!"
Coming September 1st !
XXX
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