A/N: I still don't own Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
Okay so last chapter was a bit short and I'm afraid so is this one. I'm trying to go a different route with this (obviously) and I take pride in how my attempts usually result in success. I have been focusing on this story a bit too little and my new HP/Hobbit crossover a little too much. And haven't even blinked at any of my other stories. I'm such a bad writer.
Anywho, just a heads up, this chapter jumps around a little bit, but it sets the stage for chapter three, so please enjoy.
Summary: April O'Neil has been dogging her boss for months to let her cover something more than just 'fluff' stories. Bernie finally throws her a bone. It's a lead in a fifteen year old cold case.
Cataclysm
Chapter 2
The current was strong; it pulled her along, dragged her under, scraped her against rocks and mercifully pushed her up for a lungful of air once or twice.
April's mind screamed, her muscles ached as she fought against the rip tide she had been unlucky enough to fall into. Finally after what felt like hours of fighting, clawing at the water, she felt an unbearable pain seizing her entire body.
She jerked shakily trying to keep her head above water and failing miserably, she choked on a mouthful of salt water, then another. Her brain pounded between her ears, and her vision tunneled as she slowly drifted below the waves. She wondered mistily when she had stopped swimming as she watched bubbles of air, precious life giving air, drift lazily towards the surface. The darkness closed over her with a sluggish sort of finality.
Bernie stared blankly at his newspaper, idly picking out spelling mistakes as he went. A habit he only indulged in when he needed to be reminded that everyone around him made mistakes. A shrill ring sounded and he glanced at his smart phone which was casually propped up on his desk, frowning at the dark screen. A second ring and his stomach dropped, hand frantically scrabbling with a cheap prepaid cellphone in his pocket. He flipped it open and held it to his ear, fingers already slick with a thin layer of sweat.
"Why in the hell is that reporter still sniffing around this case? He's making my whole department look bad." came a deep growl from the other line, a quake of fear raced through him. He straightened his shoulders willing himself to think aggressively, he ran a business, god damnit.
"Sorry if that's inconvenient for you chief." He sneered, he just needed to keep the upper hand, "But my man sees a story and runs at it like a rabid animal. Little I can do to stop him."
"I told you to hand him the cold case file." The chief countered, the mention of the file made Bernie pause.
"What's so damn special about that file anyways?" he grumbled suspiciously spinning his chair to stare out into New York.
The Chief let loose a humorless chuckle, "Everything. It holds the keys to this whole thing; if it ever went public a lot of powerful people would be very unhappy."
"If you wanted your department to look so good, why not pursue the lead yourselves." Bernie inquired, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"There are tabs on that file. Feelers out in case someone gets too close. Can't tell you how many officers, good honest cops, I've lost because of it."
"I gave that to O'Neil." He breathed out before he could stop himself.
"Too bad, she was pretty." The chief stated, not sounding very sorry at all, "Reign in that rabid animal of yours Bernie, before someone puts him down." The click of the phone call ending did nothing to jar Bernie out of his horror.
April's entire body convulsed, her lungs protested then heaved. The water that dribbled over her chin surprised her as she desperately flipped over digging her fingers into the gravel beneath her. Memories swarmed through her mind as she gasped and sputtered, she allowed her forehead to rest in the gravel, fingers wiggling experimentally. Something green moved in her peripheral vision.
Three thick ungainly fingers, green fingers, greeted her bewildered gaze. Puffs of white mist obscured her vision momentarily. She lifted her hand and the green hand responded in kind. "Wha-" her tongue felt leaden and she struggled to sit up, staring aghast at her hand. Her Hand. She allowed her focus to shift, her arm, same shape but different color. Clothing barely intact, covering equally green skin she tried to look at her legs, but they were folded under her.
She pitched upwards in an attempt to stand and then backwards as an unexpected weight threw her off balance. She winced, anticipating an impact only to gasp in shock as she landed on her back, but something wasn't right. It was rounded and she couldn't feel the gravel beneath her. She rocked back into a sitting position, fingers searching across the rounded expanse along her back. A shell, she was green and had a shell, she glance behind her at the water as it washed in wave after wave gently. It was different. It was blue and gentle. When she had fallen it had been green, violently green.
The mutagen. It had changed her.
She was ill suited to travel any normal routes, and she'd be damned if she dragged her colleagues or family into her mess. Robyn had a son, and Ronnie had a serious girlfriend. Stockman's crime syndicate would be looking for her. Hunting her. A large green mutant turtle would be an easy target. April blinked, her mind still sluggish and muddled. She looked down the bank and caught sight of a pipe. Sewage pipe. Perhaps she could buy some time hiding under the city rather than within it.
April staggered to her feet.
Hun's shoes crunched through the ice encrusted sand, seething silently as he and a handful of his men canvased the beach in search of the errant reporter that managed to escape their clutches the other night. He absently reached up to tap at his now misshapen nose with a thunderous scowl.
If she was lucky, very lucky, she would have died in the rip tide she'd been pulled into.
"Boss!" called one of his younger members, Scuz, waving him over before tucking his hands into his leather jacket pockets. "Take a look at this."
Hun stalked across the beach, eyes searching for a crumpled body, a glimpse of red hair. What met his gaze was nothing short of disturbing.
At Scuz's feet lay the frozen, half eaten, body of what looked like a very deformed premature infant. Its skin was a dull greyish green, scaled like a reptile and the remains of a small soft shell covered its back, picked away by seagulls no doubt. Pudgy limbs were pulled close to the body and its beaked mouth was open and slack.
"Pick it up." Hun ordered.
Scuz sneered down at the body, poking it with a toe of his combat boots. "Fuck that boss. I aint touching that freaky looking thing."
"I said," Hun placed a hand almost gently on the back of Scuz's neck, almost able to touch his index finger and thumb together, and steadily applied pressure until the smaller man cried out in pain. "Pick it up." He shoved the man forward, sending him toppling over the mutated remains. "The boss will want to see it."
"Stockman?" Scuz choked out, picking himself up as Hun let out a shrill whistle calling the rest of his beach combing party to him.
"We don't work for Stockman." He focused on the heavily pierced countenance of one of his oldest members. "Send some guys to her apartment. Take anything that may lead the cops to us."
Leatherhead shuffled carefully down the sewer way, shoulders stooped in an attempt to avoid scraping against the top of the passage. He shifted his grip on the box full of various salvaged mechanical odds and ends he had picked from the dump earlier. A small sound caught his attention and he blinked a set of transparent eyelids then a leathery set soon afterwards and tilted his massive head in the direction he'd thought the noise had come from. He silently hoped that he wouldn't run into a homeless person that had taken refuge in the tunnel, and distantly recalled the last time such an event had occurred with a jerk of his lower jaw and a long rattling hiss of displeasure.
His appearance was intimidating to say the least, an imposing six foot nine inches of stooped humanoid crocodile was enough to make the average man pass out. He let loose a long breath as a low moan reached his ears. It sounded pained, distressed. The sound originated from a small alcove to his left. His feet shuffled sideways against his better judgment and soon he was staring, almost uncomprehendingly, at the hunched, distinctive form of a female mutant turtle.
She was shivering from the cold, ice had formed on her shell and Leatherhead looked between her and his box full of parts as he tried to discourage himself from getting involved. He didn't belong here, this wasn't his problem. He would be home and where he belonged soon enough, and the last thing he needed was to be distracted by a young female mutant gallivanting through his sanctuary.
He began to slowly shuffle backwards, stomach twisting in what Leatherhead refused to believe was guilt when a shaky three fingered hand reached out to weakly grab at his ankle, hazel eyes stared up at him blearily, pleading him. "Please help me." She whispered slumping into unconsciousness.
Leatherhead dropped his box resolutely.
Vernon ran a hand through his hair one more time as he stepped onto the landing in front of April O'Neil's apartment. He'd been poaching stories from under her nose since college, making a name for himself in the process.
He'd always believed that she had been too good to stoop to his level, until Ronnie, her simpering camera man had expressed concern about her. Babbling about a potential lead for a story she'd been obsessing over. A lead on his story. He knocked primly on the door, plastering his best charming smile on his face, knowing it would only make her scowl, as he waited impatiently for the red headed reporter to answer.
A minute passed and he frowned, knocking again a bit louder, frowning in irritation. Still no answer. He slid his fingers through his hair one more time before shooting furtive glances down either end of the hallway. Finding it empty he tipped over a fake potted plant a few steps to the right of her door, plucking a spare key from under where it stood.
"O'Neil?" Twisting the knob, he stepped into the apartment "April?" When no one answered, he shrugged, "Must've stepped out."
Her wall above her desk had been turned into a massive investigative web. Vernon smiled a sharp predatory sort of smile, whipping out his phone. Snapping pictures of documents, and pictures he plucked the file she had been pouring over from her desk and tucked it into his coat.
He bent over her laptop, tapping impatiently at the mouse pad to wake it up, then jabbed the power button when it refused to respond.
The front door creaked open, and he straightened, a smile easing onto his face as he turned to face his colleague. He blinked in surprise, wide fake grin slowly dropping from his face at the sight that greeted him. Three large thugs, stood in the entryway of the apartment, purple dragon tattoos wrapped around their biceps.
"Well well well." One of them chuckled taking a few steps forward. He drew a pistol out from behind him and cocked it casually. Vernon edged back against the edge of the desk. "If it isn't the other reporter we've been dying to meet."
"God let it have been a dream." April groaned, her eyes ached and her head was pounding like she'd been binge drinking. After several failed attempts to open her eyes and take stock of her surroundings, she finally managed to crack open her left eye, finger's moving up into blurred vision to rub the grit out of the other one.
She paused, horrified to find her hands were in fact green and did in fact only have three fingers. She whimpered as she patted at her body. Her fingers found hard shell and she slowly went up to feel her face. Her bone structure hadn't changed much, she had no nose and there was, what felt like, a small beak where her lips should be. Her fingers went shakily up to her head, meeting smooth skin instead of silky hair. Another strangled whimper escaped her as she sat up on the pile of blankets she had woken up in, throwing a few away from her body to stare down at herself in abject horror. "Oh God!" She didn't have any clothes on.
A hissing sound caught her attention and she immediately reached out for one of the discarded blankets covering her body self-consciously. April blinked, and then blinked again as the stooped form of the mutant alligator shuffled towards her another step. Its jaw was just barely agape. She clutched at the blankets awkwardly. "Oh Jesus."
A hissing chuckle made her jump as the mutant before her cracked an honest to god alligator grin. "Leatherhead." He stated, his voice raspy, and April pressed her shell against the cement wall behind her.
"What?" She finally choked out.
"My name," He rasped out slowly, blinking a set of transparent lids at her and then a leathery one. "Is Leatherhead."
"Oh." She said feeling rather slow, "Mine's April. Nice to meet you." She replied hazily. Still disbelieving the entire situation was even happening.
Leatherhead nodded slowly, shuffling from one foot to another, "There's no need for that." He stated simply, gesturing to the blanket April still clutched to her chest to shield her clotheslessness. "Your plastron covers everything adequately."
April blinked at him feeling dumber by the minute. "My what?" She peeked below the blanket at her cream colored under shell; she supposed it was what he was referring to. It covered her body like a one piece bathing suit, she frowned still disturbed by the sight of her new body.
Leatherhead merely huffed out of his nostrils at her before shuffling towards a large hulking piece of machinery in the center of the chamber. April brought the blanket back to her chest, unwilling to let it go just yet. She let her eyes take stock of her surroundings for the first time. It looked like an old subway security monitoring room, though the top most stairwell had been caved in. There appeared to be at least three doorways and a gaping hole in the farthest wall that was half blocked by rubble.
A large work bench sat off to one side, covered haphazardly with paper and tools, boxes of wires and mechanical parts lined the rest of the wall. She twisted to see if any other signs of life were to be found and frowned when she was only met with the mound of blankets she had woken nestled in, and an old ice box humming in a corner a ways away.
"You live here?" April inquired, standing and awkwardly pulling the blanket about herself, fumbling with her bulky new fingers.
"I do." Leatherhead replied sounding distracted as he fiddled with the machine.
"Thank you." April said after a long moment of silence, observing the larger reptilian mutant as he worked. "For helping me."
Leatherhead paused, turning to look at her with an unreadable gaze, a rattling hiss escaping his mouth and April shifted nervously. Without a word he turned back to his machine, standing just a little bit straighter.
A/N: I would like to apologize if anyone is upset or if I managed to offend someone. This chapter had a rather dark subject crop up, and I want to state that it brought me no joy to write one scene in particular.
A dead infant, mutant or not, is never a happy subject. It's never an easy subject and I honestly didn't want to kill off April's turtle friend, but I had written the chapter without the baby and realized the little darling most likely would have died of cold long before being discovered by someone. Even before that, it would most likely have drowned as it was dragged in the riptide.
So again I apologize if anyone was shocked or angered by that particular piece of writing.
Moving on from that, I did have April found by a background character from the 2003 series. Leatherhead has always fascinated me as one of the few emphasized mutants. I enjoy underdeveloped characters the most because it gives me room to play and develop them in my own stories.
I also am kind of shying away from having April meet the boys too soon. Partially because I don't want to do them an injustice, and partially because I think it'll be interesting to throw her into a different point in the plot, after having bonded with a different character set first.
The first chapter hinted at the fact that the whole Mouser fiasco already had begun or blew over without April's involvement. So they have vacated their original hideout and made it onto the Shredder's radar already. Stockman is now conducting research on the turtles trying to gather information that may benefit them in defeating them, and that's what April stumbled upon.
In the cartoon series, Leatherhead moved into the Turtle's old home, though with their help, in my story he stumbled upon it while wandering the sewers and decided to bunk down there.
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, Please review, constructive criticism is always welcome!