Greg was accustomed to Matthew Kelley's booming voice, but he'd never had the opportunity to see the man infuriated. Now that it had happened, he only prayed he could live through the encounter, and never see his boss that angry again. Meeting somewhere to talk had turned into being cornered inside of Kelley's sedan.

"I trusted you, I put my trust in them, and you do something like this?" Kelley thundered. "I've bent over backwards to cover for you, and cooperated in keeping things quiet! 'They know how to be discreet', you said. 'They can't afford to blow their cover.' Exactly what part about a firefight that includes the use of heavy artillery is in keeping with a low profile, Heffernan?"

It was the first breath that Kelley had taken in a while, and Greg meant to take advantage of it. "Okay, first of all, you weren't there," he said evenly. "We were caught under fire from assault rifles, with nothing but a couple of handguns to defend ourselves. The result of that fight was a desperate move on their part to protect us, and no civilians were affected by it. I'm not saying that it was the best solution, but it felt like we'd been dropped inside of a warzone."

"Greg, why do your friends have access to missiles? You said they don't even like guns!"

"They don't, but that won't stop the bad guys from carrying them! Do you think this is a regular thing for them, Sir, that they go out shooting up the streets on a whim? It was a reaction to a dangerous situation where lives were hanging in the balance.

"I'm sorry that it happened. I'm sorry that the Akiudo is here and serving as a threat on American soil, but that isn't our fault! The guys helped put Takashi in Prison. It was the law's job to contain him, and they couldn't do it!"

"Your friends are the reason the gang is here!"

Greg surged upright in his seat, getting up close to Kelley's face. "My friends risked their lives twice to save innocent people from them! This isn't technically their job, but if they didn't do it, no one else would! They don't get compensated for putting their own necks on the line. They have no back-up, and no one to protect them!

"You want to blame them because the Akiudo is here? In a sense, I guess it is their fault. They're the ones who let Takashi and the other bad guys live after all! They're the ones who let 'honor' get in the way of an outright massacre! They could have wiped those men off the face of the Earth and wouldn't have needed to be accountable to anyone.

"But they're too good for that, Kelley. They will die a long time before they'll become butchers. What do you want them to do? Should they hand themselves over to the gang and surrender without a fight? Do you think that would make the Akiudo go away? That their blood lust for power and dominance would magically be satisfied if the turtles took the fall? It won't!"

The silence in the car was deafening as Kelley sank back against the driver's seat, appearing properly admonished. The man looked a little lost as he stared out the windshield. "I'm in over my head, Greg, and I don't know what to do," he said finally. "This is outside my realm of experience. Everything in my training tells me that there's no room for compromise. I'm breaking statutes just by being aware of the infractions and doing nothing. The law is black and white, and I can't ignore it forever."

"But it's not really black and white, is it?" Greg said quietly. "When someone is caught speeding to get to a dying person to help, they aren't arrested for reckless driving or ticketed, are they? If a civilian is forced to gun someone down to protect themselves from a threat, it isn't considered murder.

"Crime doesn't fit in some narrow box. You have criminals who break the law for their own selfish purposes, and then you have good people who have a valid reason for disobeying. Our Government doesn't make any allowances for vigilantes, but that doesn't mean the turtles are wrong to stand up for the innocents. It's just not as simple as being completely black and white."

Kelley swallowed and held his tongue for a little longer, resting both arms over the steering wheel. "When I heard that the first responders had found your Jeep abandoned in the middle of that inferno, I expected the worst, Greg. I thought you were dead. I can't tell you what that was like."

"I'm sorry. Maybe I should have called you right away, but my night has been insane. Everything happened very quickly, and there wasn't anything I could do about my Jeep. The engine just died on me without any warning."

"I told them it was reported stolen," Kelley said.

Greg cocked his head. "They bought that? But it wouldn't have turned up in their database."

"I told them it was a clerical error; that the license plate had a typo in the system."

"You covered for me." Greg was amazed. "Without even knowing what happened out there, you covered for me?"

"I trust you," Kelley said emphatically. "Maybe more than I should. But I can't turn a blind eye to everything, Greg. I can't have missiles going off all over this city! They have to find another way to dispatch these people. I don't like the risk that those weapons pose to civilians, or to their own safety. Can you make them understand that?"

"They do understand, Sir," Greg answered. "The missiles were a last resort; not something they use whenever they feel like it. I guarantee that you're never going to wake up to the morning news to hear that they took out an entire city block. They wouldn't do anything to cause the deaths of citizens, not even if they all had to die instead. I hope you believe that."

"I do believe it, or I'm trying to, I should say."

"Also, I'm not your go-between with the guys anymore. You've been inside their home. You have their phone numbers. Talk to Leonardo, Sir. If you're not certain that you can trust them, you need to take the time to converse with them. They'll make a believer out of you."

Kelley exhaled, seeming hypnotized by the rainfall. "I need to go home," he murmured. "I've been putting in too many extra hours to search."

"Search for what?"

"The Akiudo. I've been combing through so much surveillance from the airport that my eyes might be going crossed permanently."

The sandy-haired man smirked. "Welcome to my world."

Greg's phone vibrated and he drew it inconspicuously out of his pocket to see that he had a text message. "Pardon me, Sir." He flipped the device open and brought up a message from Marc's phone.

Brandon – 811.

The text was alarming in its brevity and Greg swore.

"What's wrong?" Kelley asked instantly.

"It's Bran – they need me. I've got to get back to the apartment."

Kelley hadn't driven very far from the apartment building to begin with, and it only took his boss approximately eight minutes to get them around to the front doors.

"Hey. I hope everything is all right," Kelley said.

"Me too," Greg returned.

"I'll call you with details on the investigation at the docks. Maybe there's something left of those SUVs that can help us, but I'm not holding my breath."

Greg nodded. "I'd appreciate it."

"I want to be kept in the loop too – don't forget that."

"I will, Sir. I'm sorry I wasn't more up front with you about tonight. I'll tell you the entire story later, but I should go for now."

"Okay. Be careful, huh?"

Greg darted through the rain to get back inside the building, and rolled his eyes impatiently as he waited on the elevator. I feel like I spend half my life either waiting for or riding inside of some stupid elevator. He hit the button for his level, crossing and uncrossing his arms over the short journey up the building.

Greg trotted quickly through the hall with the key already in hand. He had no idea what to expect when he walked into the apartment, but it wasn't the calm stillness that met him. He raised a hand to greet Caleb on the couch, and turned to look at Jazz, who was curled up in a chair.

"What's happening with Brandon? Where is he?" Greg demanded.

"There was a…uh…a misunderstanding," Caleb said haltingly. "Everything is all right now. He was really worked up when we first got here, but Marcus finally got him settled down a couple of minutes ago. Brandon's right hand needs some attention, and Marc is taking care of him."

Greg's gaze was drawn to Jazz again, and he noted the way she cringed. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"He scared me," she said softly. "I wanted to run, and I thought he wasn't going to let me go. So I…I tricked him out onto the balcony and locked the door."

"In the rain," Greg said bleakly. "Geez, that didn't end well, did it?"

"No. He cracked the glass pane on the door. He was so afraid that I couldn't bring myself to leave. Then I wanted to help him, but he was too upset."

Greg sighed heavily as he glanced down the hall. "I'm sorry, Jazz. This is my fault, again. I should have prepared you, but I wasn't expecting my boss to track me down that quickly. Brandon didn't hurt you, did he?"

She shook her head. "I thought he was going to, but no. Greg, what is his deal? I knew there was something weird about him the minute I walked in the door. And his reaction to getting locked out…I would have understood anger, but not pure terror. That wasn't normal."

"No, it isn't," Greg agreed as he sat down on the couch. He cast another look down the hall to double-check that the doors were closed, and turned his attention back to Jazz. "The gang you had the distinct displeasure of meeting tonight was the catalyst for the broken man you saw. About two months ago Brandon was kidnapped, right out of our apartment. Members of the Akiudo had him for three days.

"Due to extenuating circumstances, it took us that long to realize that he was missing. In that length of time he was abused physically and mentally, then he was also tortured. None of us know the extent of what they did to him. The only thing we're sure of is that they waterboarded him for several hours before he was rescued."

Jazz's brow creased. "That's nasty stuff. I saw scars," she admitted.

"They're related to the incident with the Akiudo," Caleb inserted. "Unfortunately he's dealing with both visible and invisible scars."

"Post-Traumatic Stress?" she suggested.

Greg nodded. "Did he say anything like that to you?"

"Me? He didn't want me anywhere near him. I should have put two and two together earlier. A guy like him with the discipline and stamina to get in that good of shape…Paranoia and terror just don't fit the profile. I didn't mean to trigger something. He wasn't hurting me. I should have stayed where I was, but I got freaked out. I'm freaked out by all of you punks, and I don't know how I'm going to feel safe again."

"That's my fault too," Greg said. "I'm sorry for everything, Jazz."

The young woman held his gaze steadily. "Is my life in danger? Is there a good reason for me to be this scared?"

He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn't bring himself to lie. "Yes. For the time being, you're better off assuming that you're in danger. I don't know how the Akiudo found me, or whether they'll be able to track you. That woman who had you tonight is Takashi's right hand, and she knows that you exist now."

"Takashi is the dude who got sprung from Prison?"

"That's right."

"And now they're here in the US to make all of our worst nightmares come true?"

"Something like that," Greg said. "But given the proper intelligence, we'll track the gang down and stop them. The turtles have done it before, and they'll do it again."

"Doesn't sound like the Akiudo learned their lesson," Jazz muttered. "Maybe your guys ought to try pounding them a little harder."

Greg smiled. "That's on everyone's 'to do' list." He felt his phone vibrate again, and checked the screen to see Leonardo's number pop up. "I should take this. Just a minute, guys."

The man took a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Leo, what's up? You didn't hear from Kelley, did you?"

"Not a thing, Greg. Did he already contact you?"

"Yeah – he completely covered my tail with the Jeep issue, but he's got a few words for you guys about the missiles."

The turtle groaned. "I'm sure he does, but that's not why I'm calling. Out of the black hole of a disaster that this evening turned out to be, we've got one seriously bright spot."

"What's that, we're alive?" Greg asked wryly.

"Okay, two bright spots," Leo corrected.

"What's the other one?"

"Don's talking."

Greg jolted up on the edge of the couch. "He's talking, talking?"

"Raph and I went to tell him about the evening and how it went down with the Battleshell. He looked like he was about to go ballistic, and the next thing we knew, he was speaking."

Greg laughed loudly, a sound that felt like it was in complete defiance of the events of that night. "He must have been ticked about those missiles. I'd be scared if I was Raph."