The pungent aroma of brewing coffee wafted through the loft. The strange family of five sat upon various furnishings constructed to
absorb, nearly consume the occupant. Most cradled cups of steaming tea in their hands. A nervous man sat before them, the object of focus.
He swept long, truent locks of hair from his face in a repetitive, compulsive manner. There was little that could make this large man quake.
He was facing what could.
Donatello was the last to take a seat. A large mug of black coffee billowing steam clutched in his fist, he took a seat by the standing lamp in the
corner of the room. He was careful not to spill a drop of the precious liquid, even as the cushion threatened to swallow him whole, and his body hunched
into itself in shock.
At last, all were present.
The silence continued as the man stroked his long bangs from his forehead once more, unsure of how to start.
"I believe you have something to tell us all, Casey." The soft voice drifted, filling every corner of the room with with it's rich baritone.
"Yeah, well...ok, see..." He sat hunched forwards, elbows resting on his thighs. He let his head drop into his hands, as though organizing his thoughts
into sentences was a mighty and arguous task.
"Perhaps, if you begin with the beginning." The voice was calm, patient.
"Ok, so... The beginning. Right. Well, the beginning, I guess... Ok. 20 years ago, abouts, you know, The Foot, they weren't... you know, dominant around here.
They weren't the Shit, they weren't top dog. Back then it was, you guys ever heard of the Triads?" Casey looked up at the listening faces, searching for some hint
of recognition.
Heads nodded.
"Of course, the Chinese mafia," Leonardo agreed, his head remaining steady, eyes unblinking.
"Yes, well, actually the term 'Triads' really refers to just about all Chinese organized crime syndicates." Donatello supplied a rough outline of the the subject, as he was prone to do,
sipping on his beverage as he rattled off the general tidbits of relevant information. "There are, well, God-knows-how-many chapters all over the world now,
that operate independantly from one another. They've even been known to participate in turf wars with different, feuding Triad chapters. Just because you're in one gang doesn't mean
that you have any allies in another Triad chapter. They really boomed in the 1970s and 80s, the usual, smuggling, gambling, prostitution, money laundering, et cetera. They are widely
represented in pop culture nowadays, mostly video games and movies, glamourizing the lifestyle. The Chinese government, governments world-wide, for that matter, have really
concentrated their energies to limiting their power recently, but I don't know how well they're doing. "
"Yeah, well, the Triads, they were It. Well, one particular chapter here in New York, actually these guys are everywhere; Toronto, Chicago, San Fran, London, Paris..."
"We get it. They're big. Next," Raphael readjusted his arms, crossed predictably across his wids chest, and shifted his shell against the wall. He had opted to stand.
"Well, they were It." Casey was not the least disturbed by the curt interruption, as most conversations between the two resembed somthing more akin to a challenge
of who could speak over whom the most frequently. "And they were growing, I mean, set to take over the fucking world. A ligitimate business racking in millions,
playing the stocks like a harp from hell, prestige, priviledge, friends in high places. I'm talking judges, senators, you name it. Meanwhile, they got their fingers
in the pudding, deep into the streets. They own the fucking streets. You walk to the corner store, buy some milk? They about it. Nothing gets by them. Noone
gets in, nooone gets out. Noone sneezes..."
"We get it."
This time, he did look up. He locked eyes with his friend. He let his eyes skip over his audience. Michelanglo's ever-wide eyes glistened with interest. Donatello's coffee mug
sat loosely in his hand, his head slighly cocked to the side, a thoughtful expression painted his face. Leonardo sat rigid, straight, face revealing nothing, jaw flexing, as
though he were chewing the new information. The Rat sat, relaxed, centered in the couch, eyes closed, head bowed. Casey wasn't fooled; he knew every
word had been committed to memory instantly, that the old man was even now aware of everyone, every object present in the room.
"So, what happened to them? The Chinese gangs we come across are just, neighbourhood gangs, nothing special," Michelangelo moistened his lips in anticipation.
"Well, from what I've heard, about this time, The Foot are building their own little army, world domination is such a popular sport, and they decide their best odds
are to send their biggest and baddest to 'take care of business'. You know, kind of pave the way. "
"Oroku Saki." It was not a question.
"Bingo. And they decided right, cuz he does take care of Li. Quite savagely, as the legend goes. So, Li, head honcho's out of the picture, leaving behind a daughter,
and a son. Both could-be heirs end up being shipped off to live with their uncle, related through their father, naturally, who runs things for the Chapter over
in Paris. This guy decided he don't want nothing to do with the States, he's busy ruling all of Europe, that don't leave much spare time." His grammer was decaying steadily ,
accent thickening as he got more excited about his tale. "He moves the business hq to London, leaves the streets to divide how they will. The Foot grow, the Corporation,
thats the name on the streets, dies. You know what happens with the Foot from there on, had a front row seat, and all. Meanwhile, the Corp. is thriving overseas, ok?" He
barrelled on, pushing unpleasant recent memories from the minds of his listeners, not wanting to loose the attention. "The Li kids are almost grown, and are testing
the waters of the family business. Sonny Li, heh, is in charge of some seriously Money projects, mostly real estate and building, you know. He's real into the
business side of things, from what I could gather, he's keeps his hands clean, would rather work in stocks and bonds. Now big sissy Li, she's pure street. Cold as ice, made
for this kind of thing, and as ambitious as all of hell. So, about seven months ago Uncle Li decides Europe is passé, and moves shop..." he points both index fingers
towards the floor. "Brings the Li kids, and his own step-kid. This kid, noone has ever seen this boy. All we have is the name; Jules. This boy, ok, think all the top boarding
schools, propriety coming outta his ass! Always been really shrouded, only tales of appearing at this or that charity event, diplomatic ball or what-have-you.
Oh, uh, heh, did I mention that this boy's ma was the involved with one of the biggest and baddest Hiaitian gangs around? Li's got some expansion in mind.
With the reputation of the Corp, and the cred of The Rapture, forget it.
The clouds are gathering, and it's gonna pour."
An uneasy silence settled upon the room.
"Nice story Casey," Leonardo was not impressed. "But you haven't yet covered the the part that involves us, and the Girl in your bed. Oh, I'm sorry," he quickly amended.
"Your and April's bed." His stony gaze bore straight into Casey. Casey, to his credit, although he remoistened his suddenly dry lips, and swept a lock of hair form his face, did not look away.
"I got some friends..."
"What kind of friends?" Each word enunciated.
"Friends with connections." Each word was clipped. "They got an ear in the Corp., it helps me stay on top of things. Helped other people stay on top of things too... at one time." His gaze
started to rise from where he had focused it on the floor. Before his eyes found their target;
"Well, those times are past, aren't they Casey?" Not a question. Casey looked to the straight-backed turtle instead.
"Yeah it is," he snapped. "And the it's falling apart out there!"
"Why now? All of a sudden?" the question from the corner seat was straight forward, to the point, a request for more information.
"It aint all of a sudden," Raphael pushed off the wall slightly. He had been growing steadily more anxious throughout the night. "The streets have been going to shit for the past 18 months.
The gangs are moving, shifting... there's no feeding order out there. The Foot took a stumble losing Oruku Saki, but the're coming up fast, and you add this new element.It's going to get really... volatile."
His tone left no room for question, no room for interpretation.
"The Foot is rebuilding. I guess you would know that they ain't taking you're involvement too lightly. They figure they can take on the Li family, maybe even bed with 'em a bit, but with
the Rapture connection they'd be too much to handle. They'd never have the upper hand, never even have a chance at a fair say. They figure the Corp's only
connection to the Rapture is that kid. Kill the kid, kill the connection. Kill the connection, things suddenly become alot easier."
"And us?"
"You. Well, there are rumours floating around the streets, about the clan who took out the Shredder. A mysterious band of brothers, a ninja clan, who fashion themselves
after the Genbu."
"Genbu?" again a question from the corner. "The constellation? The tortoise god?" Donatello looked genuinely amused, a rare occurance. "Well, I suppose thats fitting.There could
be worse interpretations."
"What is known of the Genbu?" Splinter's eyes opened as he regarded Casey, worry creasing his brow.
"Nothing," Casey shook his head. "Only that they're responsible for taking out the Shredder. Noone heard of them before, and noones heard of them since. Like I said,
they're just rumours."
The old Rat shook his head, weary. Absorbing the information. "And the Girl?"
"Well, it seems that the Foot have an ear in the Corp too, cuz a few nights ago they ambush Li's private car. Apparently the son was supposed to be there, but he wasnt.
All they got was a handful of guards, and this girl, who they nabbed. They were supposed to get the car on it's way to an event, they weren't able to swarm, apparently,
until after it had already made a stop. They knew they were taking their chances. But still, they weren't left empty handed."
"So you used us... to help free a.. what... mafia member? You used my family in some sort of advancing gang war?" Leonardo's voice tremored, broke slightly from the effort
of controlling it. "You sent us to the Foot, onto their territory, for... what? You endanger my family for your... I don't even know why..."
"Leo," Casey's voice was soft, begging, "you of all people. You know. You know what they do, they would use her to draw Li out. Maybe it would work, probably
it wouldn't. You know what they would do to her. To the rest of the world, Li's an up-and-up business man, he doesn't hang around with gangsters, he rubs elbows
with diplomats. Knowing him, or his son, don't put you in the wrong."
"There is honour in helping others, helping those who cannot help themselves, " the phrase, usually brimming with compassion when remarked by the eldest, sounded harsh and unforgiving from the mouth
of the next born.
Leonardo shook his head.
"You endanger my family. I will not allow anyone to endanger my family." he struggled to regain control of his breath, chest heaving. He sat forward, allowing his head
to drop to his chest, a whisper too softly to be heard breezed past his lips.
A warm palm was placed on his lean shoulder, squeezing gently. The old Rat's ears missing nothing.
"My sons are right; there is honour in protecting others. There is also honour in protecting one's own."
A heavy silence descended on the room, blanketing all inhabitants,weighing on the air. Each breath was thick.
"We will help the Girl, for we know no wrong she has committed against those who seek to harm her."
Raphael's arms loosened from his chest, his weight shifted from his right to his left foot. He quickly stilled his movements.
"But let me make one thing very certain, Casey Jones; My family will not be involved in any blood feud on the streets of this city.
This is not our battle. We will not endanger ourselves for these people you speak of." There was no doubt, no uncertainty, no argument.
Casey licked his lips, nervous under the Rat's piercing gaze.
Raphael slid from the room as further discussions of details, and probabilities continued. His feet moved silently over the wooden floor of the hallway as they carried
him past the bedroom door, slighty ajar, towards the bathroom. The light burned brightly against the blackened corridor. Raph squinted, picking up a towel, tossing it onto the puddled floor.
He sopped up the spilled water, now cool, spreading the towel with his foot, and reached to unplug the still-full tub. Shortly after, he returned down the hallway, the surroundings familiar
from frequent visits depsite the darkenss of early morning. He found himself approaching the bedroom door, secured, and yawned, hearing his jaw crack from the force.
He paused. The bedroom door. Closed.
He listened; heard the quiet discussion in the next room, a second pot of coffee brewing, his own breath, his own pulse. Nothing else.
He placed once hand on the handle, the other on the weapon on his belt. He turned the handle, openned the door.
The room stood empty. Tablelamps still lit, the bed fussed. He scanned the room a second time. The clothes that had previously lay at the foot of the bed
were missing, the curtains gaped slightly at the seam. He moved to the window; the jam lay slightly open.
He peeked onto the balcony, past the potted tree he could see the light spilling from behind the drapes of the living room, casting shadows onto the patio set that sat there. He listened;
heard nothing but the sounds of the city.
Then he smelled her.
He was careful to leave the window slightly ajar, just as he was careful to blend into the numerous shadows of the night as he ascended the metal staircase to the rooftop.
He saw her there, slumped against the ventilation shaft, crumpled almost, as if she had deflated of exhaustion.
She had indeed dressed herself in the sweatpants and shirt of April's Casey had provided. Her left arm was clutched gingerly to her body, she had not retied the sling after removing it
to dress. Her hair was damp, blowing slightly in the wind, her feet bare and grimy from the walk. The bright glow of a cigarette hovered in her right hand, between her healthy index finger, and her mangled, and
bandaged middle finger. Her back to the staircase, she stared out over the city.
"You trying to catch a cold, on top of it all?" he spoke from the cover of shadow.
The glowing red tip raised from the ground, glowed brightly against the night sky, then returned to her side. A puff of smoke, carried on the night breeze, assaulted Raph's nostrils.
He could still smell the coconut.
"Did you release me only to kill me yourself?" She turned to face the voice, cringing in obvious pain at the movement, awkward with two useless arms.
"Is there a reason why I would want to kill you?"
She could hear the smirk in the voice.
"Does anybody really need one nowadays? None is as good as any. " Her voice was slurred, the words lazy.
"What's your name?"
"Angely, " her eyes drooped, her long bangs clung to her forehead, damp with sweat.
"You shouldn't be out here. You're sick."
" It's too hot. Wanted to cool.." she left her sentence incomplete, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She sighed as her eyelids closed, as though the burden of remaining awake
was too great an effort. Raphael imagined that in her condition, it was. He stepped forward, out of shadows, into the soft moonlight of the clear night.
Her eyes sprung open at his movement. He paused, caught in her sight. She breathed slowly, deeply. He made his way to her, movements
slow and measured, deliberate, but predictable. She said nothing, only watched him as he approached and crouched before her. His hand moved to hers, plucking the smoking
stub from her loose grasp and flinging it over the ledge. He said nothing, only watched her, noted every nuance of her face the dark.
Her eyes were wide, dark circles of exhaustion and strain stretched beneath them. A dark bruise crested her left cheekbone. A small cut on her bottom lip had already started
to knit itself together.
She blinked.
"Genbu."
He blinked. He smirked.
"My name is Raphael."
She blinked.
"Don't worry, "he whispered, "I won't tell Casey you went through his drawers and found his smokes. He ain't supposed to have em in the first place, so.."
She blinked.
He could smell the coconut.
Her eyes roamed his face, studying, facinated. "You guys really go all out, huh? "
His brow creased in confusion over her hushed whisper.
He watched her watch him. Watched her eyes travel from his eyes, to his cheeks. He licked his lips when her gaze drifted to his mouth.
He watched her mouth.
Her hand rose to his face. He watched her fingertips sit delicately on his cheek. Heard the breath as it ghosted past her lips, those lips.
Her fingers pressed against his face, testing the texture, the resistance. Her hand crept up to his temple where it sat thoughtfully.
The simple touch elicited a shiver that assaulted his bones, leaked into his core, and vibrated across every inch of his skin.
A curious expression in her eye, she stared into his, seeking him out.
Her brow creased, slightly. Her head cocked a touch to the side. Her lips parted and quivered, delicately.
Her breath rushed out, hitching in her throat.
He felt her retract before her body moved.
She dragged her hand from his face, leaning back. She moved to put space between them, dropping her weakened left arm and pressing her palm into the cement.
She scrambled her feet beneath her, levering her body upwards, supporting her unsteady weight with her resting arm.
Pain rocketed through her shoulder, down her arm, spreading into her body cavity, arresting her lungs for precious moments.
She cried out, and stumbled, landing on her back, sat upon the roof's ledging.
Raphael lunged towards her, arms outstretched, hands grasping.
She scrambled again, legs kicking out in front of her, pushing at the ground.
He knew the exact moment she would fall, back teetered over the edge, unaware of the danger behind her, only the perceived danger before her.
He knew the precise moment he was aware he would not reach her.
He knew the moment she knew.
She knew nothing but exquisite pain, sharp, all-consuming, absolute.