Title: Validation

Summary: Never the perfect son or student or brother, Raphael does the unthinkable. Away from the lair and into an allegiance with Shredder, honor is replaced by his pronounced desire for validation.

Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to the TMNT fandom or anything else I might reference. Credit to those who do.

SPECIAL THANKS TO! Bella13blue, my own personal Nemesis! (Because everybody needs one.) MY Nemesis has been a good friend; she's a great soundboard and has been kind enough to encourage and offer suggestions on my work for this fic.

Author's Notes: This chapter picks up where the last one let off. This and the former chapter were outlined and drafted as one, but the original was split in two during the final stages of editing.

Questions or comments, submit via review or PM. Thank you.

...

CH 30

Still on that roof, under the star-laced blackness that was the night, Raphael kept his perch and looked out over the unassuming city. He loved this city. He loved how alive it was; his pulse thrummed in tune with the artificial nature around him. His eyes drank in the contrast of light and shadow, and he found himself content, for just a moment.

The sights, sounds, and smells... If there was a heaven, he couldn't imagine it being much different than this.

He missed this. He missed rooftops and open spaces. He missed feeling like a protector of something. He missed being able to step in and save the day, regardless of whether or not he was appreciated for his deeds...

A woman's shriek stole his attention, tore him from his musings. The distress call came from an alley below. His gaze found the source of the sound and he acted impulsively before rational thought could beg otherwise. He dropped from the highrise of the building, drawing his weapons mid-air and stabbing his blades into a pillar, the mad friction slowing his fall enough that he could drop into the alley soundlessly with almost no recoil.

The woman was backed against a wall, eyes wide and fearful as she clutched her purse; two men were pursuing her, one holding a gun and the other reaching for her purse. The way the men were dressed, so similar, both wearing modified biker helmets, they must've been part of one of the newer gangs.

Based on what Raph knew strictly from hearsay, without himself and the other mutant reptiles working regular patrols, and with the Foot inactive in terms of keeping the local wannabe gangs in line, crime in the city had skyrocketed. Half a dozen gangs fought regularly over various territories, and some parts of New York were potential war zones.

And the police were doing what they did best to help. Nothing.

But Raph was there, and he was going to put an end to it. One thug at a time, if he had to. Hell, if he got the 'All Clear' from Shredder, perhaps he could work a light faction of the Foot towards tanking the unnecessary spread of gangs. It would be beneficial to everyone, Foot and civilian alike.

The idea filled him with a sense of excitement and purpose, a thrill he found himself lacking before. It could be done. It would be productive. It would be justice, dealt in physical blows, verbal threats and good intentions.

But first, the poor woman in the alley. She was defenseless. Hero or not, Raphael would have none of this victimizing shit on his watch. He tore through the alley and first went for the armed man. He caught the man from behind in a headlock and easily batted the weapon from his grip before kicking it away; holding the man firmly and carefully keeping his tri-bladed weapons angled away from the human, he stepped back into the shadows and out of direct sight.

The sound of the gun skittering across the pavement drew the attention of gangster number two. He whirled around, his back now facing the woman as he worked to locate his partner in crime. "Who's there?! What's going-"

"A nut like you should leave the nice lady alone," Raph said, remaining hidden as he adjusted his hold on the first human and effectively fixed him into a sleeperhold. He mentally counted down the seconds until the man would pass out.

The second goon was reeling. "S-Step out of the shadows and face me, you coward!"

"Trust me, neither of us want that," Raph said truthfully. Feeling the first man go slack in his arms, the mutant dropped him carelessly to the ground. "I don't want no trouble. I just want ya ta leave the nice lady alone. Go find and rob a Purple Dragon or somethin'. Leave the innocent outta the equation, or yer gonna find yourself at the mercy-end of my blade." He tightened his hold on the weapons and kept his keen eyes on the scene before him.

The woman was trembling, purse clutched to her chest, but curiosity caused her to lean forward and try to see through the darkness to the one willing to help her. Her heart swelled with pending gratitude and words of thanks were at the tip of her tongue.

Then, the second goon spoke again. "If you're too much of a coward to step out of the shadows and fight me, then what have I got to worry about?" He roughly jerked back towards the woman and snatched her purse; then he broke out into a run.

Raph snorted. "I missed this. I love when they make me chase 'em." Stepping out of the pool of darkness, he revealed his mutated form to the woman, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Maybe he was careless. Reckless. Maybe he'd spent too much time with humans to see it as a problem. "Stay here, lady. I'll get yer stuff back in a sec." With that, he lurched forward and sprinted after the fleeing human.

The night was young. Raphael's vigor was renewed. And as he chased down another bumbling lowlife purse-snatcher, he could almost forget the absence of three individuals with appearances not unlike his own.

This was a one-turtle mission.

And for the moment, that was perfectly fine. He almost couldn't wait to get back to Master Shredder to bring up the idea of cleansing the city.

After all, humans were abundant. And the number of crooks was growing out of proportion. If Raphael didn't work to even the odds, who would?

This city was full of crime. Darkness. Poor intentions and even poorer decisions. There was no cosmic guiding star or miraculous force with all the answers. People were so naive. Always thinking that nothing bad was going to happen, and when something bad finally did, they assumed it couldn't get worse. They held onto false hope, painted their own skies with the delusion that things would get better. And when the truth finally sank in and revealed that their horrors were permanent, they crumbled.

Fell apart.

Rotted and decayed.

And then, just to mock them, perhaps a stray dog would wander over, hike its leg, and piss on their remains.

The world was falling apart.

The humans weren't safe from natural discord or each other.

Someone had to do something.

And Raphael would.

'One creep at a time. One day (or night) at a time. One breath at a time. One step at a time. One single thought at a time.'

At long last, Raphael cornered the crook and closed in on him.

"Yer muckin' up my city..." he said, voice low. "And I don't like that. Makes me wanna muck up yer face..."

...

[Later, Early morning, Foot Central]

It was still dark when Raphael entered Central, seeing the world through the visor of a metal helmet he'd acquired from the nameless thug. He was quickly greeted by an unarmored Oroku Saki who stood with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Seeing him, Raph raised a three-fingered hand in greeting as he approached. Then, without a second thought, he dropped down on one knee but kept his head lifted, looking directly at the human he called 'master.'

"Raphael," the man said, voice sharp, scolding. "The hour is late and your absence was unwarranted and without my consent."

The turtle raised a shoulder in a casual half-shrug. "It's a free world, and I'm a free turtle. I ain't did nothin' stupid."

Ignoring the comment, the human narrowed his eyes further before speaking. "Just... take that infernal thing off," Shredder pointed at the helmet. His slack posture and fuming aura spoke volumes of stress and agitation.

So, Raphael complied, taking the metal headgear between his hands and sliding it up and off; he curled it under one arm before speaking, his own tone light. "Soupy, chill. It's a souvenir. A trophy. Got it from this thug." He smirked at the memory. "Besides, I think it makes me look more like you... dad." He bit his lip and fought to quell the slight chuckle that tried and partly succeeded to escape. "If you can call me son, I don't see why I can't return the endearment." Perhaps it was due to the beatdown he laid on that thug, but he was feeling bold, confident, downright chipper under the stony gaze of his human-master.

Unfortunately, the human didn't feel the same. Shredder raised a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Raphael, while I appreciate the implication- after all, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery- I need to remind you that you left without telling me. If I am to play the role of your father, then you must heed the rules and-"

"And, what yer forgettin', pops, is that I'm a teenager. And a rebel. And honestly, I needed some air. Needed ta get out. I ain't caused no trouble. Just busted a couple idiots. Felt pretty good too. And... I got ta thinkin', what if I take my faction of the Foot, and I take a stab at cleanin' some of the crooks off the street? The city is overrun with gangs and wannabes; it's gettin' ridiculous."

The man sighed loudly and glared hard at the turtle, processing and genuinely considering the words offered. One minute turned into two, then three. Four. Five... Then, he parroted: "You wish to... take a stab at it?" His tone was mocking, wrought with scarcely hidden assumption and accusation.

If Raph caught on, he showed no signs. Instead, he gave a firm nod. "The city needs help."

"Are you trying to play at being a hero?"

"Nah, I'm an antihero. But the city still needs someone to clean it up. You wanna rule the city, right, Master Shredda? Wouldn't it be better if there was less scum on the street? It's my city too. Let me do this. Let me-"

"Fine."

Before fully processing the brief response, Raph assumed the worse and habitually scowled; he opened his mouth to retort and further explain himself, but he stopped before anything stupid could be said. Instead, he asked a single-worded, inarticulate question. "Whaa?" His confusion was evident.

Shredder drew in a breath before taking a knee and mimicking Raphael's position so they were perfectly at eye-level. "I said it is fine. If this nonsense will appease you, I will approve- if you follow my rules and do it under my terms."

Raphael nodded mechanically, thoughtlessly, still trying to process that his suggestion was not only considered, but also acquiesced. He was speechless. Wide-eyed. And caught up enough in the moment to agree with just about anything.

Whatever his master was saying, it was falling on deaf ears as Raph considered the light and airy feeling that lifted his insides and made something in his chest swell pleasantly. 'So, this is what Cloud Nine feels like?' he mused, finding himself fighting back a small smile. Because, more than praise, his words were considered and found to have value. He was given a green-light for something he could put his heart and soul into. Something he truly believed in. He could be a protector. He could save the city. He could-

"-but only if I permit the allotted time. Only if it does not interfere with other missions I will have assigned to you. And only if you hide your identity on your escapades. I will not have your acts as a vigilante associated with your name, the Foot, or myself."

"But I'm Raphael. I'm a mutant turtle. How am I supposed ta hide my-"

"Leave that to me, Raphael." Shredder paused for a moment and glanced thoughtfully at the helmet in Raphael's grasp. He held his tongue for a minute longer as he came to a decision before voicing it. "And, speaking of your name, Raphael, I am claiming it. The word, it is mine, and mine alone. In or out of Foot Central, no one aside from me is privileged to use the word to address you. You, Raphael, are my son. You belong to me and no one else. Forget what those fools in the Hamato clan have forced into your head. If you wish to play hero, I will allow it, but remember who it is you work for. Remember who cares about you. Remember where you belong."

Raph's browline creased and he set his jaw tight, teeth clenched. For having been so elated a moment ago, he was now entirely too confused. "What-"

"Raphael, show me respect or you can spend a week locked in the infirmary with only Professor Perry to keep you company. It is late. I am tired. And I do not appreciate having to worry for the well-being of my best asset. You will behave. You will follow my rules. And if you step out of line, I will-"

Blinking, Raph interrupted: "Wait, back up a sec, Soupy. I'm your best asset? And... you were worried fer me?" Despite everything else, he couldn't hold back the wide grin that nearly split his face in two. "Good ta know, dad. But it's late. I'm tired; I'm gonna head ta bed. I'll see ya fer breakfast. I'm thinkin' cereal. And we'll talk then. 'Kay?" He didn't wait for an answer. He slung an arm around the human in an awkward one-armed hug that he quickly pulled away from before getting up and walking off, helmet still tucked under his other arm; the infirmary beckoned him.

With the turtle's departure, Shredder continued to crouch awkwardly as he processed what had happened, whether or not things were in his favor. The answer was unclear. The mutant was obviously too comfortable and content with his position and the turn of events, but the more blissfully unaware he was of what was going on behind the scenes, the harder he would take the inevitable fall.

And he had to fall sooner or later. His spirit needed to be broken. It was a matter of timing and careful planning. Until then, it was all a game. And Shredder was a mastermind of games. He would have Raphael under his thumb, and when the time was right, he'd crush the turtle. But he had to take it slow. Lure him into a false sense of security. Allow the mutant to reach an all-time high before sending him to his lowest low. It would be a harsh plummet. It would destroy him.

Shredder drew himself to full height and decided to make preparations for breakfast. Not that he would cook or anything of the sort, but if he wanted to play the game and win, he'd need to tip the board and maneuver the pieces so that the odds were more in his favor.

...

[Meanwhile, at the Lair]

Michelangelo's eyes were wide as he stared at the television screen. Unable to sleep and exhausted from his futile search earlier, he'd retired to the couch and began to channel surf. It was pure chance that he'd happened upon the NEWS during an interview. A scantily-clad female was jumping up and down; her large breasts jiggling before the camera as she excitedly babbled: "And then, this guy came in and saved me! But... he was GREEN! He looked like some kind of lizard..."

The orange-banded ninja did a spit-take with his Orange Crush before rising from his seat and shouting: "Donniiiiiee! Smack Leo out of meditation and get in here!"

[Another one down! -I just like the last bit between Raph and Shredder because it's interesting to compare it to the last argument that Raph had with Splinter.- The next chapter is on the way. Stay tuned!]