The dream clung to Raphael's mind throughout the next day. It didn't fade as most dreams tended to do — if anything, he remembered more vividly the garden, the woman who had greeted him so warmly — more so than any person he had ever met, even Toshiro-sensei — and invited him to walk with her for a while. When he woke, he thought he smelled the flower-scented wind still lingering in the morning air.

Some parts of it didn't make sense to him, though. Why had he dreamed of a human mother? He had been born a turtle; on the rare occasions when he thought of where he had come from, he knew that his mother had been an animal who had likely never even seen him. The only biological family he had ever had, he had been told, were the other turtles who had been lost down a sewer drain months ago.

When Master Shredder had told him that, he had put a hand on Raphael's shoulder and assured him, "But that does not matter. What matters is that you have a true family — a true clan. You belong to it, body and soul."

And yet… and yet the woman in his dream had felt so real. And it had somehow felt so right when she called him her son.

The dream was still haunting his memories as he joined the squad Karai was leading to the meeting. He had slipped the sai into his belt, and the reassuring weight of them reminded him of the trust Master Shredder was putting in him — especially since he wasn't even fully trained yet. He felt a swell of pride at the thought.

"… perimeter to ensure that the Italians do not attempt treachery," Karai was saying to the ninja around her.

When her eye fell on Raphael, he saw anger flash in it for a moment. It seemed that she was as happy as he was about this joint mission.

"Let's hope you can keep up… Raphael," she said in a bitingly civil voice.

"Don't worry 'bout me," he said, resting his hands on his sai.

He had been planning to hold back on the journey to the meeting place, as he often did when surrounded by humans. But Karai's open disdain stoked something in him, and he could feel anger flickering in the edges of his mind like flames licking at paper. If she wanted him to keep up, he would show her he could.

As the ninjas raced across rooftops, Raphael let himself go. He could run as swiftly — or even a little faster — than the quickest human there, and he could see Karai straining to keep up with him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her glaring at him as she ran, her face flushed with the effort.

They paused over one of the city streets, a wide expanse between two buildings that could only be crossed by grappling lines. But as Karai and the others pulled the ropes from their belts, Raphael flung himself out into the open air.

For a moment he felt himself soaring across the road, felt the wind blowing over his bare skin, saw the glittering of lights, glass and metal far down below him. A thrill went through him as he realized that none of the humans below were seeing him — or if they were, they had no idea what they had truly seen. A mutant turtle ninja, of all things.

Then he landed lightly on the opposing building, gripping the edge with his toes. He turned to face the other ninja, who had been watching silently.

He remained where he was as they threw their grappling hooks and followed him across the way. Karai's face was its usual mask of distaste as she was forced to follow him rather than the other way around, and she made a point of not looking at him as she passed. But the other ninja there were still staring, though the masks on their faces meant that Raphael couldn't tell if they were impressed, angry or just surprised.

He held back more on the rest of the journey there, not wanting to push his luck. Karai already hated him, so it probably wasn't a good idea to needle her more than he had to. Even if he did love the idea.

Their destination was a darkened electronics warehouse that belonged to the Mafia, which they often used for official business. But the sight of it made Raphael's skin crawl for some indefinable reason. Its open loading dock and high, empty windows made the place look like a bloated face with a yawning maw, which wasn't exactly what he wanted to think of.

"Spread out. Make sure no one else is on the premises," Karai snapped.

Raphael took the opportunity to head into the building, trying to ignore the feeling that he was walking into an open mouth. Inside were massive steel shelves that reached all the way to the ceiling, loaded with large cardboard boxes that showed brightly-lit televisions and computers. They were a perfect place for an ambush, Raphael thought darkly, if someone just wanted to wedge themselves between the boxes. He glanced over them silently, watching for any flicker of movement.

Karai strode past him, her katana already half-drawn in her hand.

"The area seems to be secure," one of the other ninja said, sounding nervous.

"Make sure of it," Karai ordered.

Raphael followed her through the maze of steel shelves and heavy boxes, keeping his eyes moving constantly for a sign of anything odd. At the end of the warehouse was an area that was dimly lit by several small lamps, and Karai was heading straight for it.

His eyes flickered back to the walls on every side, and his ears strained to hear some sign of anything suspicious. He was suddenly acutely aware of all the dark corners of the warehouse, the rustling wind blowing in from the loading dock, and the faint rattling on the rooftop above him…

Then he saw who was waiting for Karai — a tall man with pitch-black hair streaked with gray, wearing what looked like an expensive suit. He was draped over an upholstered chair with a leather briefcase on the floor beside him, which Raphael assumed was the tribute. He was surrounded by younger men, and Raphael could tell by the way their black jackets fell that they were all carrying guns.

Of course, he thought with an inner smirk, a good ninja could easily compensate for that.

"Karai, I presume," the man said, sounding more casual than people usually were when dealing with the Foot Clan. "Welcome, welcome. I am Paul Marino."

Karai said nothing, only gave him a curt nod when he said her name.

Marino's eyes settled on Raphael next, studying him intently. It made Raphael want to squirm. "And this — I see this is the Foot Clan mutant I've heard so much about. Very interesting. He's what, a frog? A lizard? No, I see his back now — he's a turtle." He smiled slightly. "Well, if you ever decide you don't want him, I will gladly take him off your hands."

Raphael's eyes narrowed. Few things made him angrier than being treated like a pet or a possession, and he could feel rage stewing inside him at that very moment.

"Where is the tribute?" Karai said sharply.

Marino patted a leather briefcase beside his chair, as if it were a loyal dog. "Right here, you see. Four million, just as agreed." But he made no move to actually give Karai the briefcase, merely sitting in place with a contented smile on his face.

Raphael felt his anger slipping away, and uneasiness began to take its place. He looked around at each of the men standing still — perhaps a little too still — in front of him, his eyes moving from one gun to the next. Without conscious thought, his hands drifted up to his sides, where his sai rested against his plastron.

Then he heard a click from somewhere in the darkness behind him, and a voice whispering a single word in Italian. Vendetta.

"It's a trap!" he shouted.