Chapter 13

The garage door was wide open, an invitation, if Raphael ever saw one, to slip in and stand right behind the man cussing over the suspension system of his motorbike.

"BOO!"

Casey Jones leapt straight up and dropped his wrench. It bounced end over end, clanging loudly on the concrete floor. "I've told you not to do that, ya prick!" Casey coiled his fist back threateningly, but couldn't keep a straight face at the sight of the turtle bent over, laughing.

"Man, you're getting soft," Raphael wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "Must be the romantic Spanish vacations."

Casey found a rag and wiped his greasy hands on it. The rag looked like it added back as much grease as it removed. "Looks like you're feeling better," he huffed.

The corners of Raphael's mouth turned down for a second, then he snapped them back up into his trademark lopsided smirk. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd go for a little stroll. Through a few dark alleys. You game?"

Casey hesitated. "Well," he said slowly, "April is out with her sister..."

"C'mon, it's for my health, man. My mental health."

"No question you need more of that," Casey agreed, grabbing his leather jacket, mask, and hockey stick from a disorganized pile of stuff in the corner in his garage.

The great thing about New York, Raphael thought, was that a hunchback in a trench coat and a man carrying a hockey stick didn't have to walk very far in any direction to reach the sort of place where they didn't stick out as more weird than usual. After a few minutes they reached a stretch of street with more than a few lights knocked out, no tourists in sight, and an unspoken rule against eye contact for anyone who wanted to avoid attracting the wrong sort of attention. Raphael's kind of place.

He pulled a small phone from the holster on his belt and looked at it. The screen displayed only a street grid, with one pulsing blue dot. The hell's he been doing there so long?

Casey said, "New phone?"

Raphael stowed it away. "Something Don refurbed."

"So..." Casey started casually, "how're the guys?"

He was saved from answering right away; they passed a loud posse of transvestite hookers in some sort of quarrel with the muscled bouncers behind a seedy dive of a bar. Raphael glared at the ground. He'd sought Casey out to get away from his worries, not to dwell on them. "They're fine. Sorta." After a moment, "April tell you?"

"Yeah." Casey ran a hand through his hair, looking at his mutant friend with real concern. "Are you, err... gonna be alright?"

"It's not me you've gotta worry about," Raphael fumed under his breath.

Across the street, two women in fishnet stockings, red leather mini-skirts, and tube top corsets were in an escalating argument with a man with a shaved head and gold rings too large for his small hands. Raphael narrowed his eyes at the scene, slowing.

Something suddenly put the man over the edge. He grabbed one of the women by the throat and shoved her backwards. As she stumbled over her six-inch stilettos and crashed to the pavement, her friend began shrieking wildly, clawing at the man's face. He hit her in the mouth before turning back to the first woman and kicking her as she curled up in a sobbing ball.

"Hey dipshit!"

Raphael had already taken two steps forward and he paused, confused. That wasn't Casey's voice. It had come from one of the two men who'd appeared around the corner, both clad in black except for the red symbol on their headbands. Raphael froze, then melted back into shadow on his side of the street.

"Who the hell are you?" the man with the shaved head demanded.

"The landlords," the taller of the black-clad men said. "You do business here, you pay rent."

The enraged pimp kicked the woman on the ground one more time for good measure, then put his face very close to that of the man who'd spoken. "Fuck you."

He never saw it coming. Raphael did, though. Three wicked-fast pressure point strikes and the man went to the ground, gasping with his head bent over his knees in a comical imitation of a kowtow. "That's better," said the shorter of the men in black. "That is the proper respect to show to the Foot Clan."

His fellow soldier said, "We do not like to have noise and trouble in our territory from scumbags such as yourself. Next time we see you, you behave nice and pay twenty percent rent. You get it?"

The pimp deflated at the feet of stronger men. "But this street's always been neutral between the gangs," he whined.

"Not anymore." One of the soldiers put a foot against the man's shoulder and shoved him over. The two women clambered to their feet, clothes disheveled, hanging onto each other as they ran away, stumbling in their high heels.

Raphael could barely believe it. First Foot Clan sighting in months, and here they were, staking out new ground with gusto. He felt a rush of heat go to his head. His hands went for his sai. Only two men.

"So nice to run into old friends," Casey said, and pulled his hockey mask over his face. Raphael's phone vibrated. Casey took a step forward.

"Hold it." Raphael pulled him back.

"Huh? Why?"

Raphael took out his phone. The blue dot was moving, traveling slowly across the screen.

"You're looking at your phone?" Casey exclaimed.

"Shut up, let me think about this," he muttered. He felt as though he were trying to hear something, a voice speaking in a deafening snowstorm. The two Foot soldiers began walking away, leaving their victim still lying on the sidewalk.

"They're leaving," Casey urged.

Raphael watched the backs of the two men disappear down the street. He felt like a painfully stretched elastic, his voice a forced, uncharacteristic monotone. "We're not gonna touch the Foot."

Casey stared at him in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

Raphael started walking back, quickly, with long, angry strides that Casey had to hustle to match. Biting the words out through a tight jaw, he said, "I can't have them paying attention to us. Not with Mike hanging around Foot Traitor Number One. I don't know what game Doshida's playing, but he's up to something." He scowled. "Who knows...might be good to keep the Foot around."

"Did you really just say that? Or am I losing my mind?" Casey pulled his mask off and walked with him for several minutes. "Err, where are we going?"

"I have to get back." He stopped and faced his friend. "Look, sorry 'bout this. Next time I'll bring over a movie or something." He started walking again, calling over shoulder, "Maybe you and April ought to stay away for a little while. Just in case."

He caught Casey's muttered reply. "You know by now we can't do that."

###

Michelangelo had a snippet of some TV show theme song stuck in his head and was whistling it, absently rolling one of his nunchuku back and forth around his wrist, as he came up on the entrance to the lair. With a start, he noticed Raphael sitting outside, his shell against the tunnel wall, brooding over the thin stream of dark water that, fed by the recent spring rain, was winding its way hypnotically past their front door.

"Hey Raph. What're you-"

"Doshida's getting his money's worth out of you, don't'cha think?" Raphael stood and came up to him. "What took you so long?"

Mike blinked at the unexpected ambush. "Just working on stuff with the team."

"So they're the team now, are they?"

Michelangelo smiled to cover his embarrassment. He put a hand on Raphael's shoulder. "It'll be over soon. One more week, one more job, and I'm done." He pulled back to look at his brother, strong and healthy again, though unsmiling. "It was worth it, wasn't it?"

Raphael set his jaw. "You don't know that yet."

Mike exhaled slowly, knowing that nothing he said could really reassure or explain, but feeling the need to try anyways. "These people, Raph... they're not like the Foot. They don't hate us out of vengeance, or honor, or blood feud. Not every ninja in the city has to be an enemy, right? I guess what I'm saying is, well, maybe... things could be different."

Like a judge who'd just heard a remorseful but damning confession, Raphael regarded Mike with an expression not without compassion, yet still devoid of mercy. "They're human. They're ninja. And they are not your friends. Just remember that."

Raphael turned and went into the lair, not waiting for Mike to follow.