A/n: My chapters seem to be getting longer! I'll try and get on to chapter 4 as soon as possible. That's all from me, enjoy! We're just about to find out what Raph's got himself into this time...

Edit - sorry if this is Alert-spamming people, but the stupid document keeps changing format after I've saved it. Sigh. Let's see if this one works.

Chapter 3 – Life on the Black Market

Mikey was sprawled out on the couch, his plastron dappled with bits of popcorn, snoring. Leo was sitting cross-legged on the single seater, his eyes fixed intently on the TV screen.

Don wandered out of his lab and looked between Leo's unblinking gaze and the blank, powerless screen.

"Uh… so I guess Raph's not back yet."

Leo didn't even bother confirming. "For some reason when he said he wouldn't be back late, I thought he really meant it this time."

Don could hear the hurt masked by disappointment in his brother's voice. "Even if it's Raph on his best behaviour, he's still Raph." he offered as an explanation. Leo hummed, not convinced. "Maybe he dropped by April and Casey's and they got stuck into a few beers?"

Leo looked up at this, and the shadow of a smirk crossed his face. "Didn't Raph tell you what happened the last time he paid an unexpected to April and Casey's?"

"Uh… no?"

"Let's just say, he should have called first."

"Oh."

"And April and Casey should maybe close their windows occasionally."

"… Oh."

A slight pause. Leo cleared his throat. "I'd call now to check, but I really don't want to disturb them this late…" If he is there, then he's fine, he told himself, and if he's not… well, there's nothing those two will be able to tell me.

"Just call his shell cell, Leo. Geez, you two are like a couple after their first date. No one ever wants to be the first to call."

"But you know how he gets when I call him up all the time."

"He'll get over it."

Leo sighed. A minute later, he'd followed the ringing sound to Raph's room, where the cell sat buzzing on the bedside table. Of course – he hadn't had the cell on him in the dojo and he'd gone straight out. Either Raph had just plain forgotten to take it, or he deliberately didn't want to be contacted.

Leo really hoped it was the former. He didn't think his brother had been that annoyed when he'd left hours earlier. But maybe he was. Maybe he thought by finishing that fight the way I did I was trying to prove a point, rub it in his face, or something. Leo had already forgiven him for that night on the rooftop, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Raph hadn't quite forgiven himself, yet. And Leo was smart enough to recognise that a lot of the time, Raph's apparent anger at the world was just a displacement of anger at himself.

Plus, Raph had that almost supernatural capacity for getting himself into trouble.

With a long-suffering sigh, Leo dialled April's number.

When Raph swam back to consciousness, the world was pitch black. No, wait… his eyes were still closed. The thought of opening them was too difficult, let alone moving his limbs. His stomach felt queasy and strange. The floor he was lying on was gritty. He could smell an unpleasant mix of fuel and fish, so he guessed he was still somewhere in the docks area, but he could also smell mouldy straw and… animals. It wasn't a healthy scent. The air was filled with rustling and twittering, scratching and rumbling.

Where the shell am I?

After a few minutes he managed to force his eyes open. There was light in here, after all, but not much. It was dim and grey and filtered into the room through small grates near the top of one wall. From the quality of the light he guessed it must be near-dawn, though there was no way to tell for sure.

He was lying on his side, and there were thick iron bars not half a metre in front of his face. Great.

Raph really didn't like cages. He even had the slight suspicion that some of Casey's claustrophobia might have rubbed off on him. Just being cooped up in the lair for too long gave him the heeby-jeebies. Grunting, he tried to raise himself up to his knees. As soon as he attempted to move he realised that his hands were chained together behind his back – that would explain the aching shoulders – and his stomach roiled with nausea. He let out a groan, and fell back to his original position with a slight thump.

Well. This sucks.

Maybe he'd just lie there and look around for a while. The chains felt heavy, and the bars looked solid; he wasn't going anywhere just yet.

His cage was raised off the floor slightly, and pathetically small in size; if he was free and standing he'd easily be able to grasp the bars on either side with outstretched arms, and the roof wouldn't be too far over his head. He was in a depressing, high-ceilinged space with walls lined by boxes, crates and cages, many of which were occupied by rare, exotic or downright bizarre creatures. Stuffed animals and hunting trophies – heads and skins and furs – also dotted the walls.

In the middle of the room, from a cage only slightly larger than his own, the tiger was watching him with glinting eyes, unmoving.

Long minutes dragged by as the light trickling through the grates gradually became brighter. Just to have something to do, Raph slowly worked his way up on to his knees. His sai were gone, unsurprisingly. The nausea in his gut was beginning to recede, but now he was reminded of the injury to the back of his calf. Craning his head over his shoulder, he could see the dried blood caked on to the limb. It felt okay. Well, not entirely true. It'd hurt like a bitch with too much movement, but it wasn't like his leg was about to drop off.

It wasn't until a couple of hours later that anything in the room changed. There was a click and the room flooded instantly with harsh fluorescent light. Raph squinted for a second, and one of the birds in the cages uttered a shrill cry.

Two sets of footsteps echoed through the open space, and Raph snapped his eyes open again. One of the men was wearing a suit; the other was dressed as a labourer, and was carrying a clipboard where he was noting down the businessman's instructions.

"… and Mr. Darmonaz will be here around ten thirty, so I want everything to be prepared and on display by then. He's one of our best customers. He's taking the tiger, but I'm sure he'll be very interested in the thing we picked up last night, as well."

They came closer to Raph's cage, and not wanting to be on his knees before them, he used his chained hands to grip the bars behind him and pulled himself awkwardly to his feet.

The man with the clipboard stopped a few metres away and stared. Suit-Man looked smug.

"In all my years in the trade, I've never seen anything like it before. Darmonaz won't be able to resist." Raph could practically see the dollar signs shining in his eyes.

The other guy was still staring, and Raph rapidly lost his patience.

"What? You never seen a giant walking turtle before?" The man's eyes bugged out of his head slightly, and this time even Suit-Man looked shocked.

"… It can talk?!"

"Damn straight, I can talk. Now would ya mind telling me why you shoved me in this little birdcage after I just saved yer sorry asses from tigger over there?" he jerked his head towards the tiger's cage.

Raph's temper came rapidly to the boil as the two men gaped at him some more.

Eventually the worker turned to Suit-Man and said in a shaking voice, "Well. This complicates things."

"This changes nothing," said the other, visibly pulling himself together. "I don't care how talkative or how rude this thing is. It's going to make me a fortune."

"Piss off," Raph snorted. "Yer not gonna be making any money outta me, I guarantee you. What, ya think you can sell me off for hard labour and no one will notice I've got a shell and three fingers? Come off it, pal."

Suit-Man looked him in the eyes for the first time.

"Labour?" He laughed. "A curiosity like you?" he chuckled some more, but didn't elaborate. "Never mind," he said to his lackey, "I'll discuss the problem with Darmonaz if it arises. Once he's bought the product it's up to him how he deals with it."

"The product? Hello? How about showing some freakin' gratitude." The men ignored him, moving back towards the doorway they had entered through.

"Hey! Dickhead! This 'product' is talkin' to ya. Are ya goddamn deaf? Don't you walk away from me!" He kicked out at the bars in frustration with his good leg, and was momentarily rewarded when the loud clanging noise caused the men to pause in their steps. But they did not turn to face his cage.

"The thing has spirit," one commented neutrally.

"Yes," said Suit-Man with satisfaction. "It will make for good sport."

A stream of blistering curses followed them out the door.

Raph seethed, trying to ignore his throbbing foot. How dare they. When he got out of here he'd wring their scrawny little necks and put out the coldly calculating light in their eyes for good.

"I am not a commodity." His voice was loud in the echoing room. The tiger blinked back at him with bleary eyes. He started jerking at the chains around his wrists, anger making him desperate for freedom of movement. Damn it, if I could just punch something. The metal cuffs merely dug deeper into his skin, and didn't budge. Grr. He needed out. Right now.

He threw his shell against the thick bars with resounding force, and yelled insults at the walls until his voice was rough in his throat.

But the cage was unmoving, the chains were infuriatingly tight, and the animals in the other enclosures just watched him with incurious eyes until he finally wore himself out, and slumped back down to his knees.