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Chapter 17

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Progress was understandably slower with two injured brothers to worry about, as all four now made their way through the winding halls. They actually moved pretty quickly considering, but it still felt like an eternity to Donatello. Moving at this pace was exhausting and his shoulder was screaming at him. The wound was still leaking somewhat, and he had a small river coursing down his arm.

"Leo… Raph… thank you. Thank you for saving us…" He swallowed, then gasped pitifully, "…thank you so much…" The relief in his voice was almost excruciating for his brothers to bear, it told such a story of suffering.

"Easy, save your strength," Leonardo said gently. "Don… we never stopped looking."

"I-I know." Even though they'd only gone a short distance, Donatello was panting heavily. Leonardo noticed he was getting heavier to hold up with every step. C'mon Donnie, he thought to himself, just a little more, you can do it. They were so close now, but Leonardo was getting an increasingly sinking feeling that this ordeal wasn't quite over yet.

They made it to the staircase. Donatello's head was pounding and his vision was starting to get blurry. As they entered the stairwell door, his knees buckled and he pitched forward, narrowly avoiding planting his face onto the tile.

"Leo?" Raphael turned back, concerned.

"Got him." In a swift motion, Leonardo lifted up his brother and carried him up the steps, keeping pace behind Raphael. Got my hands full now too, he brooded, cuts down on my reaction time… makes us all more vulnerable. He breathed deep and concentrated on his five senses, determined to be hyper-aware of any impending threat.

Raphael stopped dead at the top of the stairs. "Leo! We got comp'ny."

Leonardo could see them now. Foot soldiers, moving in from across the main lobby. "Raphael – go! Get Mike to safety, I can hold them off." He lowered Donatello to the floor, just inside the stairwell doorway, giving his injured brother some protection. A small moan escaped Donatello as he leaned his back against the wall.

Raphael froze for a second, conflicted. They were so close, the front doors to the lobby were in sight and the van should be right outside them. Mike was the priority… but could he just leave Leo and Don behind like this? Was there time to get back before Leo became overwhelmed? There wasn't time to make a decision like this.

"Raphael, move it! THAT'S AN ORDER!" The command in Leonardo's voice got Raphael's feet going. His katanas at the ready, Leo flew at the enemies, allowing his brother a clear escape route to the lobby doors. Raphael barely caught the sound of metal clinking behind him as he burst through.

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Outside, Raphael moved with breakneck speed, pausing only a moment to survey the area for the parked van. A rumble of the van door directed his eyes towards it; it was parked a good distance away in a nearby alley. The van was well hidden in the darkness, but now April was standing next to it, signaling him. As he approached, she was there to receive them, her face dark with concern.

"Raphael! Where are the others?"

Panting heavily, he struggled with the words. "Mike's hurt… help him…" He laid his delicate cargo down inside the van hastily, gesturing towards the cloth wrapped around Mike's chest. Having already exited the driver's seat upon Raphael's approach, Casey was there now, helping support Mike as Raphael lowered him down.

April lifted the cloth on Michelangelo's chest, peering at the wound closely. Grabbing the medical kit she'd hastily put together before leaving, she tore the bag open, frantically pulling out several types of bandages. "Take these," she instructed, handing a pile to Raphael. "When I remove this, press them down onto the opening and keep them there." She lifted the blood-soaked shirt from Mike's chest and Raphael did as he was told. "Casey, lift him up," As Raphael kept pressure on the wound, she quickly but carefully unraveled a roll of bandage around the circumference of his torso, locking everything in place. "Okay. That should keep him stable for a little while -"

But Raphael didn't wait for her to finish. "Case! Leo and Don are in trouble!" Raphael barked, unsheathing his sais and turning back in the direction he had come.

"I'm with ya'!" Casey Jones had come prepared. Entering into character, he slipped the familiar hockey mask over his face as he ran, a worn baseball bat already in hand.

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At first, Leonardo hadn't been terribly worried. There were quite a few enemies to contend with, but he felt confident that he could hold them off. The important thing was to block passage to the stairwell where his defenseless brother lay, which he seemed to be achieving thus far. Assuming there aren't more coming up on our rear. He tried not to think about it, there just simply wasn't anything to be done about it now. He doubted that he'd be able to protect Donatello from a second attack, in addition to holding off the current wave. Nevertheless, he kept a short distance between himself and the doorway, keeping aware of any possible movement from that direction.

But more soldiers were descending on them, and literally – they were dropping in from above. Leonardo was a whirlwind, a tornado of blood. It was a technique he used whenever fighting solo against multiple enemies. Keeping his arms mostly outstretched, his blades orbited around him, cutting a perfect sphere of protection around him. It made him very difficult to approach, as several Foot soldiers found out the hard way.

His drive was absolute, his movements flawless, his footing sure. Various appendages of the foot clan littered the floor. He grimaced slightly, as a spray of blood shot across his face.

He had been taught that no technique was flawless and knew that he was still vulnerable to the right attack. If ignorant of both your enemy and yourself, you are in peril.* He recited the quote in his head, just as the shurikens hit the floor by his feet. He rolled, missing another hail of steel spikes. He looked up. There was movement in the shadows above them.

They're in the rafters, he thought, dodging another round of projectiles while simultaneously fending off a dagger to his side. He was struggling to stay on the move, needing to avoid the attacks from above. The enemies on the ground were slowing him down, causing him to dangerously remain in one place too long. They're doing it on purpose, he furrowed his brow, good strategy. He slid one bloody blade out of a soldier's midsection just in time to block a sai coming towards him. The foot ninja gave his weapon a hard twist, effectively locking Leonardo's blade within it. Leo struggled to free it, his attention divided to blocking another attack with his remaining katana.

Damn, got to move – he panicked, but it was too late. Before he could free his katana, a shuriken buried itself in the back of his right calf. He let out a short, sharp cry as it pierced him, then the knee above the wound buckled, sending him down on it.

His swords never faltered. He did not feel pain. Donatello… Michelangelo… He said their names in his head. Leonardo was the oldest, the protector. He was the strongest… he had to be. He freed the trapped katana, cutting a quick death for the unfortunate sai warrior. Another fell to the other sword, his mutilated guts splashing to the floor a second before his body joined them.

He stood back up, shifting most of his weight onto his good leg. Something caught his attention just then, his focus broken for only the slightest of moments. It was enough to make him regret it soon after.

There was motion in the direction of the stairwell. His ears picked up the sound first, and then his eyes caught the shadows moving within. Donatello was in trouble.

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*From Sun Tzu's The Art of War