I do not own the TMNT or related themes and characters.

The Initiates are my own idea.

Chapter Six; Initiation Rites

Nightwatcher rode his bike deeper into Dragon turf, not hard considering how much they'd grown over the last couple years. He knew of a food joint that Initiates liked to sit around in and brag about how close they were to getting inked. After pulling the bike up into an alley not far from the place he walked purposefully through the front door, cowboy style.

The place fell silent. Teenagers and even a couple kids as young as twelve stared at the intruder in their space. Some of the older kids reached into their pants or jackets to pull out knives. The situation and numbers would have scared the pants off of any normal person, might have even made Raph a little nervous without the nightwatcher suit on. As it was he had an advantage the other occupants of the building didn't seem to sense.

"Hiya guys! I don't suppose anyone here would be kind enough to let me in on where this kid 'Peter' is, would ya'?" Nightwatcher asked conversationally, straight to the point always worked best for him. "He's about yay tall, black hair, quiet little fella', ya seen him?"

Dead silence reigned for a moment, and then somebody tried to rush Nightwatcher from the side. He easily caught the guy by the wrist and simply redirected the boy to run harmlessly in front of him, but the first guy was like the first crack in the dike. Several more Initiates ran at Nightwatcher.

It was a simple matter of stepping back to get most of them to run into each other. Nightwatcher grabbed one kid's belt and heaved him into a bunch of Initiates that were standing like they were in line or something. A blade managed to cut through the leather of Nightwatcher's costume at one point, drawing blood. An arm shot back and caught the punk responsible in the stomach, he crumpled to the floor. Other blades were used, but few did more than nick the thick leather suit or bounce off of metal. Over all by the time the attack was over Nightwatcher couldn't help but feel a little disappointed with the turnout.

"Aw come on, you guys are the future of the Purple Dragon? Pathetic." The guy who had managed to draw some blood earlier tried to scurry back to his friends who now stood a safe distance from Nightwatcher. Instead of letting him flee Nightwatcher lifted the Initiate clean off the floor and held him up by his collar, "Now, I'll ask nicely one more time. Where's the kid?"

This guy looked older than some of the others, twenty or something. He had been shaved bald recently and the fuzz that was growing in was shiny with sweat. "I don't know! I don't know!" He insisted. The gloved hand that held him up dropped him. He hit the floor and crawled backwards.

A deep voice called from the back. "Listen punk, I don't serve nobody but Initiates and Dragons." A big man pushed his way through the crowd. His shirt had an emblem that read 'Chief n' Beef ' –the name of this establishment. The guy had to weight more than two hundred pounds, but his six foot plus frame carried it well. He was probably the cleanest person in the place, a good thing since it looked like he was both owner and chef. This man stepped right up to Nightwatcher without an ounce of fear or misgiving in his eyes. "So either sign up, or get out."

When he was close enough Nightwatcher could see the bit of purple poking out of this guy's shirt at the collar and sleeve. He was a Purple Dragon and by the looks of it probably the oldest surviving member, there was even a touch of grey in his hair that few gang members lived to be graced with. The man leaned down until his face was just inches from the Nightwatcher's visor.

"Did you hear me shorty?" the dragon growled.

"Yep, loud and clear. Now, where's the kid?" Nightwatcher saw the punch. He deflected it easily and delivered one of his own to the man's gut; he didn't seem to feel it. The big man tried to grab the costumed vigilante by the shoulders but his attempts were easily thwarted and this time a heavy, metal, boot rammed into his gut with enough force to pulverize a solid brick wall. The kick drove the man back several feet. He looked up with fire in his eyes and started towards the Nightwatcher with a faint grin.

"Wait!" Somebody called. The man stopped at the voice. A guy pushed through the crowd and stepped into view. "I heard about the kid and I'll tell you." The guy had longish blond hair and an accent that was disturbingly familiar to Raphael. Somebody hissed something at the teen but he didn't turn.

"You'll do no such thing." The owner warned. He stepped closer to the boy and whether he intended to silence him or simply pose a threat Nightwatcher didn't wait to find out. He rapidly delivered a roundhouse kick, aimed lower to strike the same location his earlier kick did. The big man toppled over, grunting in pain.

Nightwatcher looked back at the boy. "You realize you can't stay here now even if you do keep your trap shut?"

"Dude, no problem." He replied. That's when Raphael placed the surfer accent he had worked so hard to break Mikey of. "Give me a ride outa' here I'll, like, totally spill, okay?"

Nightwatcher nodded. The two of them left the building without another problem.

While they walked to where Nightwatcher had stashed his bike the kid talked. "Okay, so the dragons chose a bunch of Initiates to run a mission for them. It was supposed to be real hush-hush like, you know? One of the guys couldn't keep his mouth shut and started bragging that he was going to grab this kid from an electronics store and take him to where they're keeping his dad over by the harbor. Dude! Righteous!" The kid had just spotted the bike. He ran over for a closer look, careful not to put his hands on the paintjob in case Nightwatcher was the protective type.

Instead of telling the kid to back off, Nightwatcher climbed on the bike and jerked a thumb at the small amount of extra seating behind him, "I don't got a spare helmet so hang on tight, got it?"

"No problem, dude." The kid jumped on behind Nightwatcher. I'm turnin' into a frickin' taxi service here. Raph thought.

The bike tore off, the usually satisfying feeling of going from zero to forty in almost no time was ruined by the call that came behind him, setting his nerves end and nearly setting off his temper.

"Cowabunga!"