"It's been 3 months already! Why isn't Mikey here?!" It wasn't the first time Rapheal had voiced that particular question. Or the second. Or the third. In fact, pacing, complaining, and searching for his rogue younger brother seemed to be all he'd been doing since the Foot nin's base had been blown to smithereens.

Master Splinter groaned a little as he set to massaging away his headache, and Donatello ignored him, which left only Leo to say, not without a touch of exasperation, "Raph, Mikey is fine. You read the same report we did. He's alive."

"If he's fine, why isn't he here? You're our leader! Shouldn't you be looking for him?"

Leo's hand hit the table with enough force to rattle every remote, game controller, and drink on it, "What the shell do you think I've been doing every night, Raph?! I've been looking for him, and even though it's only been three months it's like I'm starting to forget what it was like when I didn't have to search for him, when he was here and I took him for granted. Little things are starting to slip, Raph, and it scares the shell out of me. How much longer before I start to forget important things like the sound of his laugh or the way he smiled? He's my brother too, Raph. Don't you dare forget it!" Leo slumped back into the couch and resumed his relaxing activity of staring blankly at the powered down TV. In a short time, he'd go on patrol, and search for his youngest brother again.

Mikey had brought something to the group that wasn't anger, fear, or arrogance. He'd brought fun and hope to their damp home. Living without him was like living in a never-ending tunnel, and it was all his fault. Leo was the leader. He was the one his brothers looked to when they needed guidance, but he hadn't been there for Mikey. He hadn't been strong enough. If he couldn't even protect his youngest brother, what right did he have to call himself a leader?

Raph observed Leo's listless state with disgust.

Over at his work station, Donatello was working on a new invention with an oddly specific name: Instant Sedation for Mutant Turtles (or Humans) With Red or Orange Bandannas.

Zack and Michael were chatting amiably on a rooftop when three Foot nin came to report a tall man in a trench coat stalking a young girl who seemed to have strayed from her parents. And just like that, Zack's countenance changed from that of a teenager to that of a predator. Michael listened as his friend grilled the three about the height of the man and the appearance of the girl, ready to leave in a moment's notice.

Once Zack was satisfied he had his man this time, they leapt from the rooftop and began heading in the direction the three nin were leading them. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see his friend grinning like a demon under the pale light of the moon. The light gleaming in his eyes told of nothing but bloodlust. Alarm bells went off in Michael's head at the sight. He tried to quell them but they only grew louder as they began to near their destination.

The three nin stopped at the very edge of a brick building; Michael could already hear the girl's frighten cries, but Zack beat him into the alley. Michael dove in after him. A tingling pain shot up his legs when he hit the concrete ground, but he didn't have time to think about it. A young girl, about the age of Zack's sister, lay sprawled across the ground before his feet, her blue eyes wide with fear. For an instant, Michael wondered if it wasn't the same girl, her hair was blond too, but no, that didn't mean it was the same girl. It just meant some creep had a type. He spared a glance for his friend and saw that he was holding a kunai to Mr. Trenchcoat's throat, but he wasn't interrogating him yet. Probably still waiting for Michael to finish with the girl.

Michael sighed. He didn't think children were very fond of him, but he tried to approach her anyway, "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure that man over there," he gestured at Zack's catch, "didn't hurt you." As he approached the girl, he noticed something that differentiated her from Zack's calm little sister. The acrid smell of urine. Urgh.

Fighting the urge to cover his nose, he insisted again that he wasn't going to hurt her. She didn't respond, but she didn't push him away either. As far as he could tell, the girl had suffered nothing but a few scrapes and brushes.

"How is she?" Zack called, his voice rough.

Michael offered the girl a smile. His scars must have distorted it a little because it pretty much had the opposite of its intended affect.

"She's fine. She's beat up, scared stiff, and she wet herself, but it's nothing time and a couple years of therapy won't cure." His blond haired partner breathed a sigh of relief through clenched teeth. It sounded like a hiss.

"Good. Come over so I can start interrogating this guy." The girl looked between the boy beside her and the slightly older blond one. As he brushed off his pants, Michael spared her a glance to make sure she didn't faint.

He lowered his voice, and said, "You might want to cover your ears and close your eyes. This will be over soon." Then he strode over to Zack's side without sparing her a second glance.

Zack's little sister skipped into his room, just like she did every other school day, only to stifle a scream when she saw her brother's state. His throat was covered in something thick and red, it stained his sheets and paled his skin. She rushed to his side, and cried, "Zack! Zack!"

He cracked open one eye and grinned at her. "Happy April Fools Day! Scared ya didn't I?"

She blinked dumbly at him for a few seconds, tears already beginning to dry, before she began pounding on his chest, "Idiot! Moron! Nimrod! Nematode! Jerk!"

Laughing, the boy smeared his sister's face with ketchup. Her whole face flushed red, and she stomped her foot. "That's it! I'm telling mom you're pretending to be dead so you don't have to go to school."

He grinned lazily at her in response. "Who's pretending?"

The man in the tan coat looked surprisingly normal without his broad hat. Zack had been expecting beady eyes and sharp cheeks, like a human vulture, but instead of obviously evil, the man he had pinned to the wall with a kunai pressed down on his neck looked normal. Painfully normal. For all he knew, Zack could have walked past this guy in broad daylight a dozen times already.

His shoulders were broad under the tan coat, but his face held the delicate features of a former underwear model. The haircut he sported could have been found on any number of businessmen, and his amber eyes were warm, like syrup. But none of that mattered. Zack patted down the man's pocket, and found the cigarettes Michael had described. Good.

With his free hand, the blond ninja pulled a photograph out of his pocket, and shoved it into the man's face. The man tried to flinch back but there wasn't any room for him to move. In a dangerously calm voice, Zack said, "Do you recognize this girl?"

The man tried with some difficulty to focus on the photograph in front of his nose. In any other situation, Michael thought his attempts would be comical, but in this situation, it was jarring. Finally, he managed to settle his eyes on the photograph of a young girl in a blue sundress, and his face seemed to rip into a smile.

Amber eyes flashed yellow, like venom in a wound.

"Recognize her? Of course I do. I've killed her three times already, and I was going to kill her again tonight before your ninja friends stopped me. What do you fools think you're playing at any-" Zack pressed the kunai against his windpipe until strangled squelches were the only sounds exiting his mouth.

The alarm bells were going off again. Zack was going to kill the man before him, Michael could see it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, but something about it wasn't right.

"Zack" Michael heard himself say, "Don't kill him." Blue eyes turned to meet Michael's own and narrowed. "You've never killed before, and if you do, you can never go back." The murderer's face was beginning to achieve new levels of purple so Michael tried to speed it up, "I've killed before. If he needs to die, let me take him out." He hoped this would be enough to convince his partner. The little girl he'd seen die in the alley would never have wanted her brother to become a murderer.

Slowly but surely, the anger began to seep out of Zack's arms. Not all of it, but enough for the murderer's face to begin its journey back to skin color.

Michael stood his ground as Zack gave him a calculating look, then he said, "Your brothers would kill me if I let you take a life."

"Your sister would cry if I let you become a murderer." Zack's eyes went cold.

"My sister is dead. She doesn't cry anymore, or laugh, or smile. She just rots."

Michael gritted his teeth. "Do you think so little of your sister's wishes that you would ignore them the moment she can't voice them anymore?" The kunai in Zack's hand began to shake, they were about seconds away from coming to blows, but he continued, "She died smiling, Zack. I was there. She didn't want to be avenged, and I'm damn sure she didn't want you slitting someone's throat in her name!"

The kunai whizzed past Michael's cheek, drawing a small amount of blood. Zack still held fast to his prey but his wide eyes were on Michael. "I don't remember what it was like to have siblings, but I get feelings sometimes, you know? And I think if anything ever happened to me, I would just want them to be happy, because that's what it means to love someone. Don't throw that away for revenge, Zack. It's not worth it."

Zack's grip loosened minutely, then he dropped his hands as though exhausted.

The man looked as though he wanted to say something about the current turn of events, and he opened his mouth to do so. Quick as lighting, Michael's hand shot out and bashed the man in his windpipe. After he doubled over, Zack struck the base of his neck with a flat palm. The thud with which he hit the ground was very satisfying for the two of them.

"So, jail?" Zack inquired, his eyes already beginning to soften.

Michael smiled. "Jail."

A frightened whimper brought the girl's presence back to the forefront of their minds. Zack looked at Michael reprovingly for forgetting the girl, despite the fact that he had forgotten her well before Michael had, and the only reason she was still in the alley was because Zack had been so hell bent on dealing with Mister Trenchcoat right then and there.

Micheal briefly wondered if they should have bothered to ask for the man's name, but one look at the crumpled heap of dirty laundry on the ground told him he wasn't getting anything out of their little murderer anytime soon.

"Kenji, Miura, Lee, come down here please." Three forms flitted down from the rooftops. "Ask the girl for her address and take her home. If she doesn't know it, then take her to the nearest police station, but don't let yourselves be seen. Clear?"

Three foot nin answered in the affirmative before beginning the arduous task of calming down a scared preteen. One of the three was in favor of knocking her out, but the other two were against it. Last Michael saw, they were playing Rock, Paper, Scissors for who had to ask her to her address. A startled sobbing made him chuckle as he walked back to join his partner. He could have sworn he heard one of his men sobbing too, but he just didn't want to know.

Zack was looking up at the moonlit sky as he approached. His hair looked almost white, and his face seemed more mature to Michael than it had only a few hours ago. More mature, but younger too. Or maybe lighter was more accurate.

"I didn't kill him" he said, the words like a sigh.

"I know."

"I might have to kill people in the future, though. I may have killed already."

Michael thought back to the day they had desperately fought their way out of a collapsing Foot Nin base. "Yeah, but he was unarmed, and scum. It's like how some people don't eat junk food because they don't want to clog their arteries. Killing scum, especially unarmed scum, is bad for you. I'm not sure how I know, but I know I do, and I know it's true." He winced a little at the unintentional rhyme, but Zack threw his head back and laughed.

"You know what, Micheal? You're right. In a really weird way, you are." Zack glanced down at the prone body, "But if he escapes from prison all bets are off. Now-" He hoisted the man, all six or so feet of him, over his shoulder with ease, and continued, "Let's drop this trash off at the dump and go home. I'm exhausted."

Kenji did his best to pry the girl from his shoulders, and even signaled to his comrades for help, but they were too busy whistling nonchalantly to notice. Why did this always happen to him? Was it because he always picked scissors? Was that it, because- he gave the girl another ineffectual yank- because he'd never choose scissors again.

Finally, he brushed his lips against her ear and whispered a few choice words.

She took off like a bullet into the house. Lee looked at him inquiringly and asked him what he said.

Kenji replied, "I said, 'Get off me or I'll murder you'

Miura walked up behind him and whacked the back of his head, while Lee murmured, "Dude, not cool."

The three turned to begin their sprint back to base, when they found themselves in the presence of a very angry looking turtle.

"Hello, boys. Have any of you seen my brother by any chance? He's got red hair and three nasty scars over half of his face. Ring any bells?"

The three of them rapidly shook their heads.

That's Michael.

It's totally Michael.

Definitely Michael.

….

But Michael's not a turtle

The three of them tried to ponder this, but the sound of Raph cracking his knuckles menacingly broke into their thoughts.

"Listen fellas, we can do this the hard way, or we can do this the hard way. It's your choice."

That's not a choice at all!

By the time Kenji, Miura, and Lee finally made it back to base, they had already agreed to never speak of this night again.