A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed thus far. I hope you're enjoying the story for those of you just reading, and to those who have left feedback, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Reviews and constructive criticism is always welcome. I'm always looking to improve myself as a writer. Feedback is greatly appreciated and your support is amazing. Thank you so much.

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Hun watched from the security room as the Shredder's limousine pulled into the mansion's garage. The bodyguard made his way downstairs to the garage. The driver was just opening the door to the back when Hun arrived. Saito climbed out of the car, the Shredder's helmet clenched tightly in his hand. Hun gave him a questioning look. Remaining silent, Saito stormed away, heading for the main part of the house. Hun followed closely behind him, wanting to hear the full story behind Saito's sour mood. And, judging by the way he stalked up the stairs, Hun knew it was a good one.

"Did everything go according to plan?" the bodyguard asked.

Saito threw the helmet into a corner, fighting to undo the clasps of the armor. Hun smirked and crossed his arms.

"Apparently not," he said.

"Shut up, Hun," Saito snapped.

"They got the better of you, didn't they?" Hun guessed.

"I won't tell you again," Saito snarled.

Hun laughed. "You don't scare me, kid," he said. "I've faced off against pit bulls scarier than you."

Saito stormed over and put his claws against Hun's throat. "If you wish to keep your vocal cords, I suggest you shut up," he hissed. "I will not have my men talking down to me."

"I serve Saki, not you," Hun told him.

"Well, Saki's not here, is he?" Saito asked, narrowing his eyes. "And until he returns, which I doubt very much if he will, you obey me. You and the Foot. Is that clear?"

Hun narrowed his eyes slightly. "Crystal," he growled.

"Good," Saito said, lowering his arm. "Were you able to track the Turtles down?"

Hun shook his head. "We lost them halfway through the sewers. The trail went cold."

"Damn," Saito hissed, turning away. He put a hand to his forehead. "We need to know where they're hiding out. Those freaks are messing with the Foot's profits. Not to mention our recruiting rate. No one wants to take a job with us when they know they'll just end up in the Hudson River."

"Well, then, maybe you need to spend more time dealing with the Turtles and less time taunting them," Hun spoke up.

Saito looked over his shoulder at him. "What?"

"That warehouse was bugged, Saito," Hun replied. "I could hear everything that went on inside."

Saito felt heat rise in his cheeks. What fun was it to get rid of the Foot's most hated enemies if he couldn't taunt them before finishing them off? Hun wanted to take all the fun out of being leader of the Foot. However, the bodyguard failed to remember that under new leadership, the Foot had grown into a powerful force that none dared stand up to. Saito clenched his fists. None, except for those accursed turtles.

"We need to hit them where it hurts," Saito growled under his breath.

"You tried that, and it failed," Hun pointed out.

"Next time I won't make the same mistake," Saito promised.

Hun gave him a questioning look. "What's your plan?" he asked.

"Take out Raphael. He's their leader, they look to him for guidance. Without a leader they'll be in chaos," Saito explained. "What can two turtles do against an entire army?"

"Not much," Hun stated.

Saito grinned. "Exactly. We take their leader, we take their spirit."

"They'll be expecting another ambush," Hun put in.

Saito hummed in thought. "Yes," he agreed. "It would be wise to lay low for a while. Bide our time. It will give me time to devise another plan of attack." He looked up at Hun. "In the meantime, keep searching for the Turtles' lair. They have to be in the city, somewhere."

Hun nodded. "As you wish," he said.

Saito watched as Hun walked away. He went over and retrieved the Shredder's helmet. He gazed down at the metal face. It was a lot of responsibility being the leader of the Foot clan, but it was also fun and rewarding. When he joined the Foot he never had any ambitions of being Shredder. However, when Saki took sick and the Foot needed a leader, the council had enough faith to appoint a lowly Foot soldier to the top of the food chain.

I won't fail in my mission, Saito silently vowed. I will rid the Foot of the Turtles. One way or another, I will hang their shells on my trophy wall.

Leonardo gazed down at his brother's motionless face. Raphael had been unconscious for the last four days. Donatello said it was because of the significant loss of blood. Raphael needed a blood transfusion, but no one was compatible. Leonardo looked down at his hands. He had to wonder why Donatello would say that when he had never tested his blood.

The turtle in blue glanced at his comatose brother for a short minute before walking off towards Donatello's lab. His purple masked brother was working on some kind of grim looking mechanism when he walked in. Donatello glanced up to see who had entered, brow furrowing when he saw Leonardo.

"Shouldn't you be practicing?" he asked.

"Shouldn't you stop throwing people in the Hudson?" Leonardo shot back.

Donatello sniffed in distaste. "What do you want?" he asked, going back to his machine.

"I want you to test my blood," Leonardo said.

Donatello looked back up at him. "Why?" he wanted to know.

"To see if it's compatible with Raph's," Leonardo replied.

Donatello scoffed. "No offense, Leo, but if mine, Mikey's and Splinter's blood isn't compatible, then yours won't be, either."

"How do you know? You've never tested my blood type," Leonardo pointed out.

"Because there was no point," Donatello told him.

"Well...there is, now," Leonardo pressed.

Donatello growled low in his throat, a habit he had picked up from Raphael whenever he was irritated. Leonardo stepped closer to his brother.

"Donnie, Raph is dying," he reminded him. "If there's even the slightest chance of saving him, are you just going to let him die?"

Donatello stared at his blue masked brother for a long while, jaw clenched in agitation. Leonardo stared back, eyes unblinking. Finally, Donatello turned away from his project and went over to his work table. He snapped his fingers and pointed to a seat, silently ordering Leonardo to sit down. Heart hammering nervously against his ribs, Leonardo sat down in the seat. Donatello wrapped a rubber strip around Leonardo's upper left arm and prepared a needle. Leonardo winced slightly at the small pinch of the needle. Donatello extracted a blood sample, removed the strip and taped a piece of gauze over the small injection site.

"Make yourself busy," he said. "This will take some time."

Leonardo got up from the chair and left the room. Donatello glanced over his shoulder, watching his brother disappear out the door. He turned back to the syringe with Leonardo's blood. A part of him wanted to discard it and forget about it. But, another part of him wanted to fulfil Leonardo's request. Donatello ran a hand over his face, conflicted with his emotions.

"Raph, what do I do?" he whispered to himself. "Splinter gave a direct order. But, I can't watch you die."

Donatello set down the syringe and opened a filing drawer. From memory, he took out a file and opened it. Names and blood types were printed out on a single sheet of paper. His eyes went to the last name on the sheet. Leonardo was a perfect match with the same AB type blood as Raphael.

"He can save you, Raph," Donatello whispered. "But, Splinter forbade me from using his blood." He hung his head and closed his eyes. "What do I do? Do I go against a direct order? Or do I just sit back and watch you die?"

He opened his eyes and picked up the syringe. He knew the answer. He just hoped he would be forgiven for his choice.

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