Disclaimer: I do not own any version of TMNT. 2k12 verse mostly.
Rated T for teenagers; depends on maturity and the fact that there's a lot of interpretating you will have to do.
Summary of this chp: After a morbid battle, Raphael is left for the hands of the Shredder.
Focuses on Raphael, but the others play a huge part and do get POV's throughout the story.
R&R! Thanks! xxx
Chapter 1
After the criteria taken by account of the infamous NYAI (New York Alien Invasion), city officials and volunteers decide to build the New York Institution. A towering skyscraper of a steel-and-glass design, inside is a beauty of modern sleek white. A victim of the NYAI and designated volunteer, Kirby O'Neil, states to the press that the skyscraper is for all who suffered the outcomes of the invasion, ideally, the one's who are falling into the hands of insanity––
The four subtle shadows land stealthily atop the New York Institution. Above, smoke grey clouds restively tumble, and fat droplets of water begin to pound the concrete of the rooftops. Behind a storm cloud, electricity crackles. Thunder rumbles the roar of a lion's capacity. Through the eyes of the four banded, the city lights swim in a painting of watercolour swirl, car lights bypassing their vision as they crouch low to observe.
Six streets to the North, a metallic army skids to a stop. A robot in the swarm tilts its metal head, red eyes lighting for a millisecond at the four, oddly shaped shadows six blocks south. A rather large cat, decorated in the weapons of a warrior, leads the army. After a couple of seconds without the familiar thrum of thirty pairs of ninja feet, Tigerclaw whips his head around, about to bark an order of irritation, before catching sight of the turtle-shaped shadows, too. He slips one of his two guns out of his leather thigh sheath, golden eyes gleaming in the falling rain. His mind calculates, forming a plan...Yes, that should be superb.
"Lead them towards the docks, Foot Bots. I will inform Shredder, who is, coincidently over there also." Tigerclaw leaps towards the East as the ordered Foot Bots melt into the shadows, red eyes dimming.
"Mikey!" Slap. "Will you quit drinking the rain water! We're trying to focus!" Raphael, Donatello, and Leonardo glower at their youngest, aggravated. Michelangelo pouts and shuts his mouth. He whips his head over to his older brothers, whom are perched on the edge of the building.
"Trying, but not succeeding!" Mikey smiles. "Anyway, dude's, this is a free country. I can do what ever I want." Mikey crosses his arms and looks away, shunning his brother's playfully. Raphael rolls his eyes and glances back over to the blue-banded turtle.
"There's no one out here anyways, Leo." That earning a 'Ha!' from Mikey. Raphael crosses his arms, glaring. "I say let's head back to the Lair instead of wasting yet another night daddling up here like we're part of some circus show."
"The Foot have been awfully quiet," Donnie muses. "Although I half agree with Raph, I bet Shredder's planning something big. Especially after he used that mind control worm on Raph and the others." Donnie states skeptically, eyes wondering. "Maybe we should search around a bit––"
A black object cuts through the air, slicing the tension. A black spiked throwing star sticks out of Donnie's bo stick, and he looks down, shocked, before storming. In seconds, the skyscraper's rooftop is clustered with roughly thirty or so Foot Bots, all armed with raggedly sharp weapons. The four banded turtles take a step back, overwhelmed for a moment.
"Yes!" Raphael, who is the first to recover, takes hold of his twin Sai's and spins them menacingly. "Finally, the daddling we enjoying doing!" A mischievous glint grows in his eyes. "This should soothe our boredom." The other turtles unsheathe their weapons also, yet a little hesitant. The Foot Bots stand at the opposite end of the roof, making no move to attack. Not even the slightest twitch to grab hold of their weapons strapped to their back's and sides. Their red, coppery eyes stare blankly as the wind shifts and the rain blows sideways.
"Wait, Raph! Something's not right!" Leo calls out, extending a warning hand.
"What are you taking about? It's just some Foot Bots!" Raphael glances back impassively, incredulousness etching his voice. "Sure, their numbers are somewhat on the high lines tonight, but I bet you Mikey's pizza I can take them all down myself." But as he turns back to fulfill his promise, the Shredder's robots are gone with the wind. "What?!" Raphael seethes. Lightning crackles above. "How?! I swear, if I don't get ahold of something I will––"
"Dude's! They're running away!" Mikey interrupts, pointing far below at the black swarm of ninjas heading East. "I think they're going to the docks! Come on!" He looks on with wide eyes before jumping off the roof. Donatello follows with a glance back at the two oldest before.
Great, Leo sighs. He looks back to where the Foot were standing a minute before and jumps a little to see Raph over there.
"Raph! What–what are you doing? Come on, we're going to be left behind." Raphael growls and snatches something off the ground. Before Leo could take a glimpse, his brother conceals it from view.
"Great! Let's go smash some heads."
"Yes, this is excellent." The Shredder holds up a silver brief case, the black interior soaking with water. He then snaps it shut with a click. "I am very pleased that you've held up your end of the bargain." Shredder hands the case to a dripping wet Tigerclaw. "Make sure this stays safe. I do not want those disgusting turtles playing with it," Shredder emphasises. "Especially the violent one, Raphael."
Tigerclaw bows his head. Rain water pools down his face, his fur coat dampened with a gleam. "As you wish, Master. I sent some of the newly modified Foot Bots after the Turtles, after spotting them on a rooftop a couple blocks down. They should be here soon."
"Good. I will await their blood." Tigerclaw bows again respectfully, then jumps onto the wooden crates stacked up and into the shadows.
Across the dock, eight Brazilian men (in their early twenties) argue. The slimmest one of the eight cringes as the biggest yells something in Spanish. Based on the way the younger one's hair hangs in his face, eyes moving restlessly along with his fidgety fingers; he is a new recruit. The others are much more burly, black hair cropped military style. Their teeth shine stolen gold, dark eyes searching mischievously. Their white plain tee's are tinted with dirt and what oddly looks of blood, holes in various places.
The owner of the eight is a wealthy salesman in Brazil, promoting child labour. The eight are some out of hundreds. He has several underground systems and oversea carriers, and he mentioned to Shredder his love fore animals, once, and started investing in them a couple years back. They passed into the United States as illegal immigrants. Shredder has never been so close to such lowlives in his entire life, aside from Hamato Yoshi and the Turtles.
Blackmarket executers.
Next to the men, a cargo ship rocks in the water. Foot Bots hurriedly load cages of exotic animals. Leopards with grey coats, lions, bouncing chimpanzees. Claret parrots chime the hums and echoes of their previous lives. Next to one of the men on the dock, a lean jaguar slaughters, wide chartreuse green eyes sly. Around its neck is a metal collar. Shredder watches as the jaguar hesitantly take a step forward, and is a shock ripples through its body, making its hairs stand straight up.
"Hey, Shredda'," the biggest Blackmarket watcher says. His clipped (faked and exaggerated) Bronx accent glows with confidence and low vocabulary skills. "What about ya end of thy bargain?" Incompetent fools. The others turn, eavesdropping, and part their cracked, dirty lips in realisation, seemingly forgetting their argument.
Shredder balls his fists, and takes a step forward. He see's the eight take a slight step back. "Your end of the bargain held high enough," Shredder starts. The men look on with puzzlement. "I think I will leave it at that. No need to upset the balancing scale." All four men shut their mouths, lips tight. Black, witless eyes boring into him with rage. One takes out a rusted, (and most likely, stolen) serrated steak knife. Shredder looks on with a stoic expression, mostly hid behind his mask.
"Tsk, tsk tsk. Rash actions lead to unadvised, too sudden consequences." Shredder chides humourlessly.
"You kiddn', right? We'va gave ya that what-do-ya-call-it serum, so ya betta pay up or I think we'll hava problem." The four men start to inch forward, reaching for makeshift weapons. Although their actions are flowing, their black eyes overflow with trepidation. The biggest, who's name Shredder dimly remembers (shocker) as Fredrick, slips out an army machine gun. Shredder laughs impassively, gelid and hollow.
Two stories up, the four shadows pear over the edge of a rooftop with white, stealthy eyes. Mutely, one unsheathes a long, thin blade, and looks back to his team determinedly. With a few hand motions, the four turtles are gone from the rooftop. Thunder roars.
Dirty sea water laps restlessly against the dock poles. Underneath, where an ecosystem thrives in the darkness, the water pierces its ebony sky. Micro-bits of organisms float in their secluded world. Down, down, down, the masked figure goes. Eyes open, arms reaching. Their fingers scraped raw. The figure opens its mouth, a silent scream ripping their throat, decomposing from the inside out. Down they fall, to the rocky bottom. Down, where, New York City lays in its opposite world, where, a perfect society rages. Inferno's blazing, isolation creeping.
The one's who still savage the disaster, are missing a leg, an arm. It is all part of the plan. The one's who survived the first wave are the one's who watch: A bomb plummets, whistling its dreadful ballet, and New York is wiped white and radiant.
Seaweed floats pass the figure underwater. It turns away from the vision, face growing grey, then metal. The Shredder walks through the anti New York, smiling.
Just beneath the surface, Raphael stares downwards, frozen. Lightning streaks mutely across the sky, and the waves shift into rougher territory. He lifts his head, up out of the fantasy and out of the water, remembering dimly the plan Leonardo created moments before. Up he goes, pulling himself onto the dock clutching his weapon. His eyes grow white with determination.
About fifteen meters away, the Shredder stands with his back to Raph, gauntlet raised. Foot Bots stand in clusters over to the sides, most in sparking pieces on the ground. The jaguar saunters around by the right with a dangling, deactivated collar. Its pellucid, green eyes are wide, staring at Raphael's emerald one's.
If it wasn't for Raph's ninja training, he wouldn't notice the air carrying blood specks, and wouldn't realise the familiar sound of weapons clashing absent. His vision fogs, and he can't tell if its from the pouring rain or the emptiness in his eyes.
The Shredder turns, and Raphael looks down.
His brothers are faced down on the dock in different places, seemingly unscathed but still. They look down through the wood. Down, down, down, where they glimpse upon the very New York of Raphael's fantasies.
His Sai's fall to the ground, the emptiness in his hands unnerving.
DUN DUN DUNNN. Wow, how long was Raph waiting underwater to attack? Hhhmmm...
I hoped you liked this chapter! Sorry if this wasn't exactly 'straight-forward' writing. That's one of the reason's it's rated T, for excessive use of figurative language *laughing crying emoji*
Fight scene next!
Read and Review!