Michelangelo reveled in the feeling of flying, the way the wind rushed by him and the tails of his mask whipped behind his head while he made the leap to the next rooftop. He flipped over a bank of skylights and picked up speed as he approached another ledge.
The orange-masked turtle spiraled toward his target, landing nimbly on his feet out of the twenty-foot free fall. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled when he caught sight of his older brothers' shadows. Leo and Raph weren't that far behind him, but he had a good lead, and he meant to increase it.
It was disappointing that the docs wouldn't release Donny for patrol yet, but Mike hadn't expected differently. That's Doc for ya. As long as Don has a little cough, they're probably gonna keep being paranoid.
Mike trotted to the end of his rooftop and scanned the surroundings below. He peered down the city block, curious about the amount of foot traffic congregating around the only lit building on the street. The desire to continue racing ahead of his brothers faded as his intrigue about the scene below increased.
Michelangelo suddenly leaped off the ledge, traveling with purpose rather than abandon. He didn't want to ask his oldest brother for permission to take a closer look at the mysterious habits of the partiers, and since he was ahead of Leo, he wouldn't have to.
From his lower perch, the orange-masked turtle could hear the tantalizing beat of music wafting through the doors of the club that weren't spending much time closed. The line of people wanting to get into the establishment stretched all the way around the building, as they waited to be accepted or rejected at the door.
His red-masked brother suddenly skidded to a stop behind him, with Leo right on his heels. "What are you doin', Chucklehead?"
"Watching."
His brothers took a position on either side of him to look down, and Raphael shrugged.
"Watching this? I didn't drag my shell fifteen blocks to see some people getting drunk and acting like morons."
"If they're waiting outside to get into the club, they're probably not drunk already," Mike said logically.
Raphael shook his head. "You wouldn't catch me dead in a club like that," he muttered. "I mean, even if we could somehow pass for normal. There are tons of places all over New York where you don't wait in no line to get in, or have somebody decide whether you're good enough to party there."
Leonardo gave him a strange look. "Are you speaking from personal experience?"
"Don't tell me you ain't never imagined what it might be like, Fearless," Raph returned softly.
"Well, not bar-hopping per say, but—"
A gunshot shattered the air, causing all three of them to jerk in the same instant. The blue-masked turtle recovered in less time than it took Mike to blink, striding to the opposite side of the rooftop.
"That had to have come from at least a block out!" Raphael called after him.
"Which way?" Mike demanded, as though one of his brothers could have seen something already.
A scream that followed was short-lived, drowned out by the sound of squealing tires on pavement. Leonardo's posture went from rigid watchfulness to readiness in another split second, and he pointed at the building across from them. "East! Let's go!"
There was no time to question his brother or to wonder how they would track down someone who was likely fleeing in a vehicle. The oldest turtle had already put on a burst of speed that had Michelangelo straining to catch up. Within a few moments the rooftop playground changed back into their unique version of a commute to the "office".
Mike felt his heart rate increasing faster than it had during their earlier race. He scanned the street with nearly every step he took, searching for the site of the original crime. The scene below was obviously marked by the clustering bystanders, but Leonardo didn't seem interested in stopping.
It was an odd feeling for Michelangelo to be running at the back of the pack, but he didn't fight to overtake his brothers, choosing to follow their lead instead. The youngest turtle only slowed down enough to catch a glimpse of someone lying facedown in the street. With a wince Mike kept going, hoping that the victim had survived the attack. The people standing by had surely already called 911. But that doesn't mean the cops will get here in time to catch up with the shooter. We've gotta catch this guy!
The unmistakable sound of metal crunching metal made the orange-masked turtle cringe, but his feet never wavered. He lunged over a flashing neon sign, careful to keep his oldest brother in his line of sight.
While he was squinting to orient on Leonardo's form in the darkness, the blue-masked turtle unexpectedly took what appeared to be a suicidal leap. Even Mike's eyes widened as he watched his brother descend several stories without holding onto a single thing, only to hook an arm over a fire escape near the ground at the last-minute, and swing around the front side of the building.
Michelangelo headed to the ground with his next opportunity, diving to a platform about thirty-feet beneath him. He didn't hesitate on the balcony, rapidly jumping to the fire escape across from him, and then down on top of a closed dumpster.
Mike adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt as he rounded the corner, yanking it farther over his forehead. He'd taken four strides when the muscular shadow of the red-masked turtle emerged from another alley in front of him, and they both picked up speed at the report of more crunching metal.
The orange-masked turtle cracked a grin at the sight of a stalled-out black sedan with a dented roof, and a hood that was faring no better. He didn't see any sign of his oldest brother, but there was someone hastily exiting from the car's passenger side. The street-light glinted coldly off the metal of the weapon the stranger was drawing, and Mike's hand quickly found a nunchuck.
A shot rang out as he and Raphael circled the vehicle, forcing the turtles to go opposite directions. Mike never took his eyes off the gunman, who seemed emboldened by their "retreat". The man plowed forward to meet the red-masked turtle. Though he knew Raphael wouldn't shy away from the attack, it made more sense to take the bad guy down before he could get another shot off.
Michelangelo stayed silent and low to the ground as he pursued the man, and then lunged to capture him. He used his full weight to bring the assailant down, concentrating the brunt of his force on the man's arm to control his weapon. The turtle felt the stranger's shoulder crack under the pressure, heard the man cry out, but barely lessened his hold until the gun clattered out of his hand.
Raphael growled as he stopped the gun's flight with his foot, and fixed the figure with a frightening glare. "You picked the wrong place and the wrong time for a drive-by, punk."
The man only whimpered in response.
Mike grinned down at him. "Don't worry, dude. The cops won't be that far behind us. They'll be here to pick ya up in a few minutes."
His taunt had the effect of bringing the man back to life. Mike's captive scrabbled uselessly against the pavement, cursing at the turtle.
"You got him, Mikey?" Raphael asked calmly.
"Does it look like he's going anywhere? He's my pancake, Bro."
"Then stay put for a second, okay?" Raphael dashed a few steps past him, searching the shadows. "Leo! Where…"
Mike craned his neck to see what the red-masked turtle was doing, but Raphael had paused in his step.
"Looks like Leo got his man too! How come they didn't bring anyone else for me to play with?"
"You can have a turn with my guy if you want!" Mike shot back. "Do you see Leo?"
"He's coming this way. How about you give me some room, and I'll get this idiot tied up?"
Michelangelo sat up to give Raphael access to lash together his prisoner's hands and feet, and watched for his oldest brother to reappear. Leonardo finally slipped around the side of the disabled vehicle, clutching another figure over his shoulder. The second man only had single head-wound that Mike could see, but his body was limp as Leo slung him down on the sidewalk.
"He didn't have a gun, but he tried to knife me. I can't believe he thought he'd get away on foot," Leo scoffed.
Another curse erupted from the man Mike was straddling. "Who ARE you bastards?"
Raphael twisted the former gunman's injured arm a little harder, bending close to his ear. "We're nobody you wanna try pissing off again."
"You got no right—"
"You've got no right to try to take someone's life, but that didn't stop you, did it?" Leonardo interrupted smoothly.
Mike cocked his head at the sound of distant sirens. From the way Leonardo stiffened, it was obvious he'd heard them too.
"Disappear!" the blue-masked turtle ordered.
Michelangelo leaped to his feet and ran after Leonardo as he dashed into an alley. Leo already seemed to have an exit route in mind, like he'd had an hour to plan their every move. His oldest brother motioned to a grate on the other side of the alley, and led the way back underground.
Mike dropped into the tunnel after him and held out a fist. "Nice catch, Bro."
Leo bumped his fist in return. "You too," he replied, his eyes flicking to Raphael as the other turtle joined them. "Did either of you come close to getting shot?"
Raphael snorted. "Yeah, Leo, the guy almost killed us. God knows we can't handle anything without you holding our hands."
"I never said that, Raph!"
"Let's recap, okay? You're the one who dive-bombed off a building, played leap-frog with a car and went after the driver by yourself! He coulda been the one holding the gun, did you ever think of that? But you're still waiting for one of us to screw up! Makes a lot of sense, Leo." Raphael brushed past Mike and stalked down the passageway, disappearing into the darkness.
Leonardo stood still for a few seconds longer, his brow furrowed in the low light filtering through the grating above them. "I can't say anything right, can I?"
Mike shrugged. "Let's just go home, Leo."