His sense of sight hearing heightened by the Spirit marks etched into his flesh, the young warrior was able to clearly see the three figures making their way across the rooftops not too far from his position. He was surprised to see they too had been trained in the Way of the Shadow, but that wasn't what shocked him most. No, the most unexpected thing about the approaching trio was their appearance. Although his master had never outright stated it, he had highly intimated that the young hunter was the last of his kind. Since the young turtle had vague memories of others like him, his logical assumption had always been that something disastrous had happened, leaving him the sole survivor. That assumption was being challenged by unforeseen arrival of these three new mutant turtles.
Before the young hunter could fully process the presence of these strangers like him, something else flickered across his consciousness, pulling his attention away. There, coming toward him, was the Traitor. His pleasure at having at having his patience pay off was immediately offset by the realization that the three strange turtles were also in the path of the oncoming threat. For reasons he couldn't fully explain logically, the young hunter felt very protective of the three other turtles. He sent a silent plea to any deities that might be listening that the three strangers would be kept out of the looming clash. The deities were either busy or not inclined to listen, for the Traitor had taken note of the three turtles and had changed course to intercept them.
"What are you trying terrapins doing traipsing through my territory," the Traitor asked in a cold voice as he came face-to-face with the trio.
"Certainly not coming to listen to you spout off tongue twisters," the red-masked turtle shot back. "But we did hear of some strange goings-on around here over the past several weeks. You haven't exactly been subtle here lately Bishop. We felt it behooved us to come take a look around."
"I don't think so," the Traitor, or Bishop, replied. "What goes on here is none of your business. Keep out of it."
"People, civilians, were hurt in that last disruption," the purple-masked turtle suddenly piped up. "You're going to get someone, an innocent, killed. We can't let you continue doing whatever it is you're doing."
"You're certainly welcome to try and stop me," Bishop told him.
Recognizing the inevitable conflict that was about to erupt, the young hunter knew he could delay any longer. Having watched the way they moved he had no doubt his three earth-trained counterparts were able to hold their own in most fights, but Bishop was Shadow trained and Spirit-marked. Like the young warrior, the Traitor was able to use his life force to enhance his battle skills. Though his Spirit marks were hidden beneath the concealment of his body armor, the turtle could feel when the other man began to channel energy through them.
Bracing himself, the turtle began to do the same. As soon as the energy began coursing through the marks covering his body, the now familiar sensation of bee-sting sharp pain began to buzz over his skin. If not for years of training and experience the painful sensation might have been a distraction. However, the hunter had long since learned to ignore the discomfort. Pulling his twin swords from their sheaths on his back, the hunter launched himself into the air, covering the distance between himself and his quarry at an impossible speed. A final flip landed him silently between the Traitor and the three strange turtles.
For a long moment, no one said a thing as both sides mentally adjusted to the new development. Unsurprisingly, it was the Traitor who regained his equilibrium first. In the same cold, disinterested voice he'd used before he said, "So, the 'council' has finally sent in its pet. I'd ask if you really understood what was going on here, but even if they had told you anything, from what I understand, you can't answer me anyway. So, why don't we forego the pleasantries and get on with it!"
Moving almost faster than the eye could track, the two combatants came together. The next fifteen minutes were a blur of blows, blocks, parries, and counterblows. With neither participant seeming to grow tired the battle might have continued indefinitely, if Bishop hadn't unwittingly found an unforeseen chink in his opponent's armor.
Grabbing a shuriken from where it had fallen to the ground after he dodged it, Bishop flung it back at his nemesis. The turtle had already moved out of its path, however, and was closing in on an opening in his enemy's defenses, when he realized the young orange-masked turtle was now in the path of the oncoming projectile. Acting on something so primal it went beyond instinct, the hunter did the only thing he could to protect the other turtle; he stepped in front of him and took the strike himself.
The shuriken buried itself deep in the hunter's shoulder, sending a shockwave of pain and numbness down his arm. Only his training prevented him from losing his hold on his weapon. What was more, the force of the blow had forced the projectile deep enough into the tissue of his shoulder that it was going to take medical intervention to remove it.
"So," Bishop drawled as he took in the hunter's actions. "You masters haven't beaten the compassion out of you completely. Let's see just how far you're willing to go to protection these…outsiders."
With that, the conflict shifted as the young hunter was forced into a strictly defensive strategy as Bishop began focusing his whole attack on the other three turtles. As the off-worlder had predicted, the other turtles were quite capable of looking after themselves, just not against an opponent as fast and as strong as the Traitor. The hunter very quickly found his endurance pushed to the limit as he tried to be everywhere at once. Though he was able to fall naturally in rhythm with his three "allies" that was slowly but surely wearing the Traitor down, he was still forced to deflect or absorb an innumerable number of punishing and damaging blows that would have crippled or killed any of the others had they landed.
The hunter was beginning to wonder how much longer he could hold out, when there suddenly came a lull in the action. Grateful for the chance to catch his breath, but knowing an enemy as wily as the Traitor never acted without reason, the hunter moved to once again make sure he was between the enemy and his new associates. It didn't take long to recognize his opponent's new play, for in his hand was a small but powerful explosive device; one of his former battle-kin had had a remarked appreciation for this exact type of apparatus. He could only figure the Traitor had taken it off his compatriot after killing him.
"I see you recognize this little tool," Bishop said, pulling the hunter's attention away from his thoughts. "You know what it does, then. Since I can't afford to grant you any more attention this evening, I'm going to give you a choice. You see, in about 60 seconds, this is going to detonate. I'm certain your master has taught you how to shield, but here's the catch. You can, of course, choose to shield yourself, giving you plenty of time to catch up to me and continue with this little battle of wills. But if you do, then your new little playmates will be eradicated. On the other hand, you can elect to shield them instead, keeping them safe, but I very much doubt you will be in much shape to come after me. Let's see how much of your conscience your masters left you."
And with that, he threw the small disk-shaped device at the turtles' feet as he took off in the opposite direction. Knowing he only had a split second to make a decision, the hunter turned to the trio of masked turtles. Spreading his arms, he flexed his will, his life force bursting from his Spirit marks to create a spherical barrier around the turtles that would, hopefully, protect them from harm. No sooner was the shield up than the device went off. If the hunter had had use of his voice, he would have screamed at the agony of the heat and force that pummeled him as both his body and his life force repelled, then absorbed the incredible power of the explosion. Then, as quickly as it had struck, it was gone. The hunter barely had time to acknowledge that fact before he collapsed, darkness taking him before his knees even had time to hit the ground.
So here's where I need to know if there is enough interest in this story to keep going. I have some ideas about where I see this narrative going; I just want to make sure there's going to be an audience. And for those waiting for the next chapter of Six Turtles, I'm working on it. Unfortunately, both Raph and Donny are being a bit tight-lipped at the moment, while this Leo is just begging to have his story told. Once I can pry something out of the other two, I will update (and hopefully finish) the other story.