A/N: Thanks everyone for your lovely reviews! Just wanted to mention something about my update schedule... I cleverly started writing this fic at the most insanely busy time of year - 21st birthdays, essays due, show seasons to perform - so unfortunately I can't promise really regular updates. Sorry! I'll try my best not to keep anyone waiting for too long between chapters. Chapter 3 at least is already written, so you definitely won't have to wait long for that one. ;)

Without further ado, here's chapter two (the title popped into my head from William Blake's poem, and seemed appropriate).

Chapter 2 - Tyger Tyger Burning Bright.

Now this was an exciting new experience. It's nice, Raph reflected, to go topside for a stroll without blowing up at Leo beforehand. Makes a pleasant change from the usual.

It was a beautiful clear night, no clouds and only the average amount of New York City smog. He'd have to keep his eye on the light of the full moon throwing his silhouette, but other than that he was free to roam. And even though Leo hadn't believed him, he really wasn't looking for trouble tonight. For once he felt almost… peaceful. As peaceful as he ever got, anyway. But he wasn't just gonna sit here and stargaze, he wanted some speed.

He flew over the rooftops, no particular destination in mind, just enjoying the physical sensations of the wind rushing past his shell and the smooth pull and release of the muscles working under his skin. Even Master Splinter had commented that his ninja skills had improved of late. For the first time he could remember, he was starting to feel truly in control of his body, his breath, his precise movements. Nothing like the control Leo had, of course – not even on the same level as Don's mental focus or Mikey's incredible acrobatics.

But there was something simple and good in this, in the slap of tough feet against the rough concrete, the defiance of gravity in the leap between two rooftops; a pure, physical exhilaration. He knew he really shouldn't – the way of invisibility, and all – but he was still a teenager as well as a ninja, and he couldn't resist letting out a few whoops and adrenaline-fuelled war cries as he raced over the roofs of the city. Oh yes. This was his home turf, this place belonged to him.

He realised he was running out of rooftops when he hit the docks area and saw the water stretching out to the horizon before him, glinting in the moonlight. He settled in the shadow of an industrial smokestack, panting slightly from the light workout, one knee pulled up and the other dangling over the edge of the building.

There was plenty of activity going on around the warehouses and the wharves beneath his feet, but there was nothing unusual in that. It wasn't like this city ever really slept, and activity on the docks ebbed and flowed with the tide. So Raph was contentedly people-watching for quite a few minutes before he was struck by anything odd about the scene.

The thing that probably tipped him off was the sound of an extremely large, extremely angry feline roar.

Um, okay… this may be a concrete jungle, but that sure ain't something ya hear every day.

Raph sat up straighter and focused more intently below him. He could hear men's voices raised now in anxiety. Shouted orders crossed each other in the air, and figures were pointing and running.

In an open space between two warehouses a large wooden crate had just been jerkily unloaded from the back of a truck. Men were scurrying about it frantically, spotlights being swung towards it.

There was another roar, even louder than the first, and suddenly the side of the crate burst open with the snap of splintering wood and an orange-and-black blur streaked out, almost too fast for the human eye to follow. The human eye. The thing stopped, momentarily confused or blinded by the loud voices and bright lights.

A fully-grown Bengal tiger was crouched, tail lashing from side to side, on the concrete dock.

And it was so not happy.

Raph took half a second to pick his jaw up off the floor and then was immediately on the move, working his way down the side of the building to ground level. Judging by the sounds of panic reaching his ears, the men down there were definitely not equipped to handle this.

Crouching now at the foot of the building, Raph considered with dismay the brilliantly-lit space and the dozen or so spectators. Well, if worst came to worst he could always make a quick exit by diving off the pier – he was sure he could find a sewer pipe in the water down there without too much trouble.

In a split second the decision was made for him: the disoriented tiger picked a target from the crowd of figures milling around it, and charged with a ferocious snarl. A young guy wearing a construction hat and an expression of sheer terror was frozen in its path.

Raph leapt out from the shadows with sai at the ready, and intercepted just in time. He caught the tiger in mid-pounce on his shell, and rolled with it as its weight knocked him to the ground. He found himself in a whirlwind of flashing claws and hissing fangs, and sprung away to give himself some distance. He landed on his feet in a crouch, sai poised defensively. In the momentary pause, as the tiger eyeballed its new adversary, the shouts from the dockworkers began to filter through to his consciousness.

"Jesus!"

"What the hell is that thing?!"

And some bonehead: "Oh, I am so betting on the tiger!"

Raph growled in irritation. The tiger growled right back.

Then it sprung, and he dodged a powerful blow from its left front paw, all claws extended, closely followed by yellow fangs heading for his neck. He flashed a warning swipe of the sai in front of the creature's face and it flinched backward, retreating a couple of steps.

It was then that Raph noticed it was limping, favouring its front right paw. It had a ring of torn, blood-encrusted flesh around its ankle. It looked like it had spent a lot of time chained up at some point recently.

Now that he was looking at it properly, he could see the creature wasn't in good shape at all. There was a chunk missing from one ear, and its bony ribs could be seen through its mangy, flea-bitten coat. It roared again, and this time Raph heard the pain and the fear in the sound, as well as the anger.

Damn. All of a sudden he felt kinda sorry for it. This thing had not had an easy life.

"Get the boss!" he heard someone yell with a small measure of authority. Spurred into action by the noise, the tiger sprung again. Injuries or no, it was still a formidable predator, and thoughts of pity were quickly driven from Raph's mind as he concentrated on saving his own neck. Crud, how am I gonna bring this thing down?

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement. Several men were running out of a side door of the warehouse, each carrying something in his arms…

In the time it took for his gaze to flicker away and back again, the tiger got behind him. Claws raked across the back of his leg. He stifled a sharp cry of pain, and spun instinctively, slicing his sai across the tiger's good paw. It roared in agony, and Raph sympathised. He felt the same way. If he'd been human his leg would probably have been hamstrung. Luckily, his thick skin afforded him slightly better protection, but it still hurt like hell. He could feel flesh exposed to the raw air.

"Okay, bring it down, now!" yelled a different voice, one that sounded confident of being obeyed. Raph saw the men closing in on the spotlit area in a wide circle, raising weapons. Guns?

No, there were no explosive cracks of gunshots. Darts flew out of the weapons instead, and a few found their mark in the tiger's flank.

Raph lowered his sai a fraction in relief. Tranquillisers. These guys have finally got their act together. Took 'em bloody long enough. He tried to catch his breath. The tiger was swaying on its feet, its eyes growing dull.

"Get the other thing, too!"

… Wait. What?

"I don't give a fuck what it is, I said take it DOWN!"

No way. Those ungrateful little bastards. Raph's feet remained rooted to the concrete for a precious few seconds as he mentally processed his shock and indignation.

Then he did what any smart turtle would do when surrounded by a ring of trigger-happy idiots with dart guns.

He ran for it.

Aiming for the pier, he hadn't gone three steps before he'd already realised he wasn't going to make it. His injured leg had burst into flames, at least that's what it felt like. It slowed him down, and when he felt the first dart in his shoulder he knew he was done, but he kept charging head-down towards the distant promise of the water, feeling the blood spattering from the back of his leg.

He could hear darts rebounding off the back of his shell and whistling past his head; the air was thick with them. His vision was already blurring, but for one wild second he thought he would almost make it through to the pier…

Then a couple more darts joined the one in his shoulder in quick succession, and suddenly the muscles in his legs wouldn't obey his commands any more. He sunk down in a rubbery heap on the cold, grimy concrete, just outside the circle of spotlights. Stupid stupid stupid, he berated himself groggily.

A pair of booted feet seemed to wobble in front of his eyes. He felt one boot nudge against his shell, tipping him over on to his back. A dark figure stood above him, but his vision refused to focus. People were talking, exclaiming, yelling.

This… no… he couldn't…

Everything slid away.