Oh my goodness, you guys. I'm so sorry for leaving you hanging for so long, but I literally had to rewrite this chapter about three times. I wanted it to be absolutely perfect, and also more of an action scene, so I worked pretty hard on this one. Experimented with different POVs and all that jazz.

Finally, I decided on Flame, just because we haven't been inside his head for a while now. For the next chapter, which POV would you suggest: Leonardo or Raphael? I feel like I could do really interesting things with both, but as per usual, I lean toward Raph. Lemme know what you think!

Summary: Raph is sure he can't take Leo's almighty attitude any longer. He channels his rage through the Nightwatcher, a mask he puts on to beat down criminals of all kinds. However, when Raph (as the Nightwatcher) is captured by desperate criminals, he begins to realize how much he really needs a leader. He also might have found love in the process. RaphxOC, M/M SLASH! Don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, okay? There, I said it.

Flame clenched a single unfeeling fist, driving jagged glass shards from where he had burst through his own freaking window even deeper into his skin. He surveyed the scene before him. Jet, in the far corner of his bedroom, the pool of blood around him growing. Nathan, who simply stared at Flame with disbelieving eyes, exactly three feet from Raph.

Three feet was too close.

He scanned Raph carefully as the other turtle's running steps sounded down the hallway, so quiet only the trained could hear them. The red-banded turtle was clutching an arm to his plastron; something was broken there, but otherwise he looked to be moderately okay. Deciding those were issues best dealt with later, Flame reluctantly let his gaze slide from Raphael, back to his former best friend.

Even now, standing in front of all of the evidence, Flame still couldn't believe this was happening. He trained his soldiers to be not only deadly but loyal, and Nathan had seemed the most loyal of them all. His second-in-command, his friend, his trusty sidekick.

Nathan was looking at him with that same child-like, fearful expression that had led Flame to take him under his wing in the first place, but they had been small boys then. Now, the waves of pain from Jet's dying blood cells screamed at him, engulfed the whole room, and Flame had to wonder how Nathan could bear to be in there at all. Had he lost all capacity to sense pain, losing it completely to the genetic evolution that Demetri always insisted was taking place in their race?

He guessed it didn't matter. Nathan was a traitor now, and was not to be shown mercy. The man had shamed Flame by defying his authority, shamed his race, shamed even the blades Flame knew were concealed somewhere on his form. He was a threat, and Flame would have to take him out.

For a tense moment, Flame simply glared at Nathan murderously, though his body was unwilling to move immediately after the hard run and his adrenaline had left the premises a long time ago. Nathan raised his hands in supplication.

"Flame, this isn't what it looks like."

Instead of gracing that pitiful excuse with a response, Flame took a step forward. A flash of red darted behind his eyes, and all he could think about was how close Raph's blood had come to joining Jet's on the floor.

Too close, too close, he could imagine them screaming now. All the little cells, cruelly separated from a main body that would already be dead, drying up and dying in the punishing air. Each one experiencing the unthinkable pain of an outside world it was never meant to encounter.

Flame registered Raph's brother coming into view behind him, but his eyes were trained on Nathan. In contrast, the murderer's eyes flitted everywhere, clouding over with hate as soon as they locked on the other turtle.

"You've found more? Flame, you are worse than I imagined. Don't you know these things are a threat to us?" Nathan raised his voice. A violent shudder went down Flame's spine from the sheer venom in his tone. "Friend, you are not fit to lead."

Flame's eyes narrowed as he advanced. Fine, he could bite back. "First you dare to ignore my orders, then you kill a fellow soldier in cold blood, and now you call me your friend? Oh, Nathan, no. I believe it is you who poses the threat to our race."

Flame kept his voice silky and soft, though he could not help but allow a bit of a growl to escape. It was as if an animalistic part of his brain, long buried down, had suddenly resurfaced in force. His thoughts, his nature, even his very nerve endings called for Nathan's death. End him, do it now-

Nathan was starting to back away. "You don't understand! This was for the good of the people!"

Maim, kill, bleed...

"Flame, are you even listening?!" Nathan cried, though he pulled out his weapons. Two wicked hatchets, sick from the evil of their wielder.

Fight, claim, protect...

"I don't want to use these on you. Back away now, and I'll kill them quickly." There was a tremor in the voice, but also a rising anger to match Flame's own. Another step forward. Flame's blades slid smoothly to his fingertips.

Do it NOW...

The incessant chanting in his head proved deeply unsettling, but Flame wasn't arguing with it. He leapt, twisted, and the shrill shriek of metal scraping against metal burst into life as Nathan moved to block Flame's downward strike.

The two forces moved fluidly to a rhythm they both knew well. This was a fight for dominance; who would live to fight another day? Would it be the young leader that perished before his time, or the even younger upstart? Heat surged as muscles contracted, skilled hands maneuvered the tools of killing like it was an art form. Neither would hold back an inch.

Flame danced around his larger opponent. Nathan was the stronger fighter, but Flame was the better one. He had the speed to avoid each death blow when it came, the cunning to predict what Nathan would do next. The fighter himself was growing increasingly frustrated as his target continued to evade him. Just one hit, and Flame would be history.

One of Nathan's swings went wild; Flame twisted left to avoid a slash that would have easily taken his head off, then had to jump immediately after as a leg swept out to knock him off his feet. His blades come up as Nathan whirled with his second hatchet, blocked. He tried to stab but the first weapon was already coming back around.

Flame was tiring and he knew it. He had sparred with Nathan before, and fighting him was like an endless cycle. Somehow, Nathan had managed to master the way his cumbersome weapons could weave through their respective spheres at the same time in different directions, producing a fiercesome whirlwind of new things to block every couple of seconds.

Flame had to find a way to disrupt the sphere, preferably before he passed out from exhaustion. It wasn't like he was a steam engine or anything; from the minute he had entered the room, he had been running on pure rage.

Fury, as it turned out, suited him quite nicely. He was royally pissed off. Nathan had tried to take everything that was his from him, and Flame wasn't about to just let that slide.

Death, pain, KILL HIM...

One of his blades tangled in a hatchet, rendering it temporarily immobile. Nathan frowned for just a second, working to pull his weapon free, and this was Flame's chance. He spun, and clipped Nathan's forehead with a sharp kick that really should have knocked him out.

Nathan blinked for a moment, dazed, before he sneered. He was panting. "I'm not.. That easy.."

A hatchet sliced down on Flame's leg, and the leader hissed as the pain rapidly drained away. New screams pierced his mind even as he reversed himself, twisting away from the sharp edge that dragged across his skin, digging further and further until suddenly it tore something out, and Flame was clear.

Well, relatively. It didn't take long for Nathan to lunge. Flame danced away, but his movements were slower, and he couldn't seem to make his leg move as fast as he wanted it to go. That part of the muscle was gone.

Seeing his opportunity, Nathan pressed his advantage. He immediately went on the offensive, working his spheres as he forced Flame to back away, farther, farther. Flame snarled in frustration as he blocked, jumped away, blocked again.

It didn't take long for Flame to sense Nathan's endgame. He was pushing Flame back toward the turtles, toward Raphael, where he knew Flame would either have to take another devastating hit or allow Raph to be killed. His own protective instincts would be used against him.

Closer, now. Flame screamed at Raph.

"Get out of here! Both of you!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Flame saw the turtle in blue bend down to shoulder his brother, but Raph wasn't having it. He scrambled away from his brother's hands. Flame couldn't understand it. Raph needed to go where he would be safe. What the hell was he doing?

The answer came through a firm voice, one that could match Flame's own in authority. Flame had never heard Raph speak that way before. "I'm not leaving."

He will be in pain, you must not allow him to feel the pain. Even if it means your death, protect him, protect him.

Flame felt like his instincts were taking over the only part of his brain that wasn't reiterating shit, shit, shit like some kind of mantra. He risked a glance over his shoulder at Raph, took in the hardened expression, and knew at once the turtle wasn't going anywhere. Another of Nathan's strikes rattled his bones and scraped his blade in that same instant.

Flame panted, surged, but he couldn't keep up. It was almost all he could do to block the never-ending strikes, and he was being pushed back, fast. Five feet away, now.

Something blue and green crossed Flame's line of vision, and suddenly, Nathan's hatchets were otherwise engaged. The blurry rescuer hit Nathan hard from the side, sending him crashing into the bed. That was just as well for Flame, who was breathing hard and felt like he might pass out at any given moment. He was so dizzy-

The weird chanting in his head stopped, and with it went his energy. Flame doubled over on the floor, the edges of his vision going black. He felt strong hands on his shoulders, dragging him backward, then cradling his head. His eyes fluttered shut.

An enraged howl, then two sets of footsteps running out of the room. Only one coming back. He was losing too much blood. Something tightened around his leg as he nearly drifted into unconsciousness.

A whisper: Yer gonna be okay.

Then, nothing.

I actually think that went quite nicely. Let me know if you liked it, if there's a problem.. You know the drill! Thanks for reading!

-DauntlessAdrenaline