"Lemme get this straight. You're death." Don nodded glumly. Raph, leaning against Don's door, held up the Guide. "And this, it tells ya what to do?"

Don nodded again.

"Well shit, Don."

The purple-banded turtle glanced up from his computer chair, slightly surprised. "Don't tell me you believe all that?"

"Why the hell would you lie?"

"I wouldn't…I guess. I just thought you'd be a bit more…skeptical."

"Yeah, like that freaky lady in the alley wasn't proof enough. What was that, anyway?"

Don's brow furrowed. "I don't know. What I do know though, is that no one was supposed to find out about this death thing. Ever. If that's the case, that thing in the alley was just the beginning."

"Well I know now, and there ain't nothin' nobody can do to change that," Raph said firmly. "So let me know if ya need help once in a while, huh? This hermit crab impression you been doin' lately ain't great."

Don chuckled. "Thanks Raph. But I'm not sure if there's much you can do."

"I kept ya from bein' strangled by that demon."

"True."

"'Sides, Donnie, ya know, now that I know what your problem is, if you ever need…well.." Raph shifted awkwardly. "Y'know. Someone to talk to. I'll…be around. If you want."

Just as Don opened his mouth to say something, the computer pinged. He turned to look at it, unconsciously grasping the mouse as he did so.

Raphael folded his arms, watching. "Next person in line?" he asked.

Don merely bobbed his head slowly. He seemed transfixed by the glowing screen.

Coming around the back of the chair, Raph peeked over his brother's shoulder to see who's name had appeared.

Jacob Freeman.

Nobody they knew. Internally Raph gave a sigh of relief.

Checking the time, Don stood up abruptly. "I…have to take care of this."

"Then I'm coming with ya."

"No! No…you can't."

"Why the hell not? What if that freak comes back, and brings friends?"

Don refused to look at Raph, his eyes glued to the floor. "I just don't want you to see," he mumbled.

Sighing, Raph glanced at the ceiling. "Fine. I'll stay here and over for ya, okay?"

This seemed to perk up Don immediately. "Really?"

"Sure. Tellin' Leo to piss off is the only thing I'm good at." Don was already bustling around the room, throwing gadgets and whatnot into his bag. Raph held up a finger. "But if that thing comes back, you call. Or press the panic button. Do somethin'. I ain't lettin' ya fight that alone."

"Sure, sure," Don nodded mechanically.

"I mean that, Donnie!" Raph growled.

The other turtle stopped his journey around his room and looked at Raph. "I'm glad you've been so understanding. Of everyone, I'd never think you - " Don seemed to realize what he was saying and changed it to, "Well, thanks."

Raph shrugged nonchalantly. "Whatever," he turned to leave. "Just don't get killed, 'kay? 'Cause I'm not explainin' that to Splinter." And then he was gone.

Don stood still for a moment to see if he would come back, then zipped up his now full bag and looked at Morris, who was now napping on his pillow. "Well, I'm off to kill someone. Sounds like it'll be fun."

The cat stretched and buried its head under a paw.

-

"Raum!" A terrible but weak voice rasped, echoing around the cement walls of the moist sewer tunnel walls.

The larger of two huge crows flapped its wings, and in the space of a blink it had turned into a well-muscled man with ebony skin. He sneered at the pathetic shadowy form of Deumos as she dragged herself to his side. She hadn't had even the strength to shape-shift into anything but a tattered shadow.

"Raum, I am injured," she gasped. Her torn tentacle reached for the ornate box that lay on her leader's other side.

Casually Raum moved the box further from her reach. "I've no room for bunglers," he leered at her, revealing blood-encrusted teeth. His fangs still glowed faint blue with the souls he had recently devoured. "Why do you deserve to deplete our already small store of souls? I can use them for more useful things."

"Information…" the injured demon said, grasping at straws, "I can give you information."

"What information can you give me that I do not have already?"

"The…the one we seek…the New One…I believe he has contact with The Risen One…if they are both found and…and destroyed…you will be able to take over…you will rule all!"

This seemed to please Raum. He thought about it for a moment before transferring the box into Deumos' reach. Eagerly she knocked the top off, leaning over it, inhaling the blue fog of soul into her lungs. With each breath she slowly grew back into the beautiful woman she had been previously, each wound knitting closed with a flash of blue light.

Raum waited until she had regenerated fully, then snatched away the box. "No more wasted souls," he said firmly. "Our store is diminishing too quickly. Next time, Deumos, if you fail, I will not be quite so forgiving."

The newly regenerated woman dropped to her knees, her hands clasped together over her head, taking no heed of the sewer water she know knelt in, "You are the most kind, my master. Soon you will rule all."

Raum nodded to her, then turned to the last crow that had been sitting and watching quietly. "Moloch, I have a job for you."

The crow ruffled its feathers, then opened its beak. "What does my master wish of me?"

"Deumos says the New One is in allegiance with The Risen One. They must both be taken out. I want you to find out if this information is true, and if you can, get rid of the New One. I will deal with The Risen One."

"Yes, my master." The crow bowed its head, then spread its wings and sped off down the tunnel.

"And now, Deumos, we will solve this problem of running out of souls," Raum said, standing.

-

"-And that is my theory on why people think it is acceptable to leave gum on the park bench seat." The Professor beamed at his audience of two homeless men who stared at him with dull expressions.

"That's gross," one of them said.

"Uh, yep." Said the other.

The Professor's ears picked up a small crunching noise at the top of one of the huge piles of garbage and he turned to see what it was. A familiar silhouette stood on top of it. The Professor smiled.

"Ah, Donatello, welcome." He squinted his eyes, "It is Donatello isn't it? My eyes aren't what they used to be, and you do look rather a lot like your brothers."

With all the speed and agility of a ninja, Don easily leapt down from the garbage pile into the midst of the three homeless men.

"Jacob Freeman."

Two of the homeless men merely looked confused, but The Professor's smile faltered. "Yes, that was my real name. How did you come about finding that out?"

"It…doesn't matter, really." Don said. "Listen Professor, would you like to take a walk with me?"

The African-American man's smile returned. "I would love to, Donatello. I was just telling these men that I had a new theory on…"

Don let him ramble as he led his friend away from the homeless community's camp and towards the pier that over-looked the Hudson.

"-So that's what I think." The Professor finished. Don, who had been staring off over the water, smiled at the man.

"Great theory, Professor. Best one you've had yet. Hey, did you want anything else?"

"No, no." The Professor patted his stomach, "that hot dog and coffee you bought me was quite enough. Speaking of which, I never did ask why. Is it a special occasion?"

"Something like that," Don said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Look, you can see Orion."

The Professor looked up. "Yes, it is a remarkable constellation." He yawned and stretched his arms. "Excuse me, Donatello, I just need to rest my eyes for a minute."

"Take all the time you need." Don said softly, keeping his eyes on the stars.

When a good forty minutes had passed, Don glanced at his companion. His eyes were still closed. "Professor?"

There was no answer.

Don shook him gently. "Professor? …Jacob?"

Still no answer.

Sighing, Don placed his two fingers on his friend's neck. No pulse. Don checked his watch. Jacob Freeman had died right on time.

The turtle stood up, and placed his hand on the now dead man's forehead. His hand glowed blue as the soul transferred. With the other hand, Don dug the box out of his bag and carefully stored the soul inside it.

"I'm sorry, dear."

Don turned. Mona sat on the bench, clutching a fluffy violet sweater around her torso. "It's always hard when you have to do friends," she continued. "But it's necessary. It was his time.'

"I know," said Don, "But he was just…so unique. He didn't even seem that old."

Mona shrugged. "It is not up to you and I to decide when their time is."

"Then who-" Don's question was interrupted as the box was violently knocked out of his hand.

Immediately he pulled out his bo. "Not again!"

"Again?" Mona queried, leaping off her bench and coming to his side. Suddenly both their visions were blocked by a flurrying of black feathers.

Don swung his bo blindly, trying to hit one of the crows that was blocking his vision. "Get away!" he screamed, "the souls don't belong to you!" One of the crows' claws raked his scalp as the other one went for the box that still lay upon the ground.

"NO!" Don yelled, diving so that his entire body landed atop the crow that was going for the precious souls. It screeched and writhed underneath him.

Mona had ducked down and was rummaging in her bag. "Keep them busy dear!" she called out to him, "I'll have us out of here in a moment!"

"Like I'm not trying!" Don grunted, trying to keep his weight on top of the crow while the other one attacked his unprotected head.

"Aha!" Finally Mona pulled something out of her bag. She ran over to Donatello, grabbed the box and tucked it under one arm, before grabbing his bicep and throwing whatever she held onto the ground.

There was a huge flash of white light, and then everything went dark.