March 14th, 8pm.
Donnie's exhilaration over finding a lead — not just any lead, but a direct connection — dies the moment he realizes just how direct that connection is.
There's a pattern here, he thinks, after the fourth hour of sifting through online databases nets him nothing useful (Angelica Vega: animal sciences major, arrested once at fifteen for shoplifting, had chicken pox twice, missed three weeks of eighth grade thanks to mono). I'm just not seeing it.
The thought occurs to him that it's not a pattern, but a maze, and that comforts him even less. His eyes ache, and his legs are starting to stiffen from being stuck under his desk for so long. April drifted away in the middle of hour one, dragging warm fingers along his cheek and neck, murmuring about getting in a shower, and came back an hour later to deliver a fresh pot of tea. Not coffee — a distinction Donnie didn't miss. Her message couldn't have been clearer: you need to sleep, Donnie.
How can I, he thinks, rubbing his neck, when there's something I'm not seeing?
Another thought — will you be there? — rises hopefully, but Donnie ignores it.
The lab doors creak open. "Hey," April calls. "Donnie? You should get some sleep." Her voice is tentative, poised on the edge of a question she doesn't ask, but that Donnie reads well enough when he turns around to watch her face. She arches one eyebrow, and tilts her head ever-so-slightly back toward his room.
Something unknots in his chest — he can actually rest, and April will be there when he wakes up.
He reaches back without looking and shuts off his monitor. "A few hours couldn't hurt," he says, grinning in spite of his sore muscles when April blinks in surprise. "What, were you expecting a fight?"
"I was expecting at least ten minutes of wheedling and then threatening to cut the power to your rig before you gave in," she says, wrinkling her nose at him. She looks adorable, but Donnie closes his mouth before he can tell her so. Maybe later. "Why no resistance?"
"Because you'll be there," he says, too quick, too honest, and masks his cringe with a shrug. "I, uh…"
"Come on, smooth talker," April says. She holds out her hand, smiling her sharp, sweet smile. A smile that's all for him. "Let's go to bed."
"Just a few hours," Donnie protests as she tugs him down the hallway, fully aware any protest or good intention on his part means less than nothing against the idea of his bed with April in it.
And if that makes him a bad Champion — well, to use Raph's phrase: tough shit.
Elsewhen.
There's shouting from the main hall, too many voices for Mike's ears to separate until Alice's voice rises above all the rest in a howl. Everyone else goes silent as she keeps yelling, her voice cracking, and Mike feels the old, old urge to bury his head under a pillow until the shouting stops.
Then it does stop, and the silence is even worse, prickling along his skin until a door slams and he almost jumps off his bed.
He could stay here, in the room set aside for whenever he comes back, lock the door and ignore what's happened to his family, what's still happening, what's never going to stop, but he's not sixteen anymore. He's not the cute little baby of the family who can get away with messing around in the lab if he makes puppy eyes long enough. If he doesn't go and try to smooth this over, just a little, they won't talk to each other for weeks.
They may not have that long.
He sighs and cracks his knuckles, and heads for the main hall. Casey and Raphael are still there, arguing in hushed voices, and Leonardo sits at a table with his head in his hands.
"So what went wrong this time?" Mike asks as he approaches. "Who'd we lose?" He tries to guess while he waits for a response — Angel went in the last big purge, her fingers wrapped around a detonator that never went off, Mondo got caught in a sinkhole in what used to be the Bowery. Half the people he knew died when pneumonia hit the compound five years ago, and there's always someone who didn't move fast enough when the warhounds came out to play.
There just aren't that many of them left. Every time he comes back, there are more echoes. and fewer people.
"We didn't lose anybody." Raphael doesn't look up, just runs his hand over the back of his head, just like — just like Donnie did. Mike would never say it, because it's the fastest way to a beatdown, but he hasn't missed the way they've all absorbed little gestures like that. Like somehow they can keep Donnie here and alive if they capture enough of him.
But the first time Mike realized he was sticking out his tongue as he read, he nearly puked.
"So why all the yelling?" Mike asks, sitting down across from Leonardo. "What's up with Alice?"
"She —" Casey slashes his hand through the air, his mouth screwed up in a thin, grim twist. "I don't know why it's such a big deal," he goes on a minute later, stabbing a finger toward Leonardo. "It'd screw anybody up. You can't take her off patrol for this."
"It'd be a mistake to send her out again," Leonardo responds, with that calm, smooth voice that always makes Mike want to spit and scream. "She's lost her center. And if we can't rely on her, then we're only setting up other people to be hurt."
It doesn't take a genius to know what would make Alice lose her center. Mike feels his blood go cold as the realization creeps into his brain. "Aw, man," he says, and sighs. "Karai?"
Casey nods, mouth still all twisted, and Raphael makes a hard noise in the back of his throat. It must have been bad, then — not just bad, but terrible, if Casey and Raphael don't have anything to say.
No one talks for a while after that. Leonardo takes off his sunglasses and polishes them on a rag, then puts them back on.
"What'd she do?" Mike asks, when the silence is too much for him to handle. He spends so much time alone that not talking doesn't bother him anymore, but this isn't a quiet that will go anywhere good. So he'll bite the bullet and deal with Raphael's glares, because someone's got to. "She go running off this time?" It hasn't happened yet, but there's a day coming when all of Alice's training won't matter, and then Donnie really will be gone, because she is.
Raphael shakes his head. He shrugs deep into his jacket, hands buried in his pockets. "Nah. She just — we were just doing a sweep, trying to pick up anyone that might still be out there, down on 49th…"
Mike sucks in a breath. 49th is closer to the lair than they've been in years. Miles out, yeah, but close enough to see the spire rising over what used to be their home. Maybe not close enough to see the cage, but close enough to hear it, if the wind's right.
"It's our fault," Casey says, when Raphael shakes his head again and goes quiet. "We shouldn't have gone that far. Like anyone's still out there —"
"We still need to look!" Raphael snaps, but Casey plows through him, still jabbing his finger in Leonardo's direction, even though Leonardo doesn't turn around or respond.
"— so she froze up! It happens! You know what's out there, and if it took her this long to freak —"
"We don't have the luxury of second chances," Leonardo says, so final that Mike sinks low in his chair. "Alice is off patrol until I'm satisfied that she's ready."
"And how long'll that be?"
They all jump when Alice's voice fills the hall. She's standing in the doorway, watching them all with red eyes.
"We all know there's not a lot of time left," she says. "You just have to look outside — god, you don't even have to do that. Just listen to the wind."
"Alice, I've made my decision," Leonardo says. He takes his sunglasses off and stands, slowly, like every muscle aches. Mike feels an overwhelming urge to bounce out of his chair and gather them all in — Leonardo, Raphael, Casey, even Alice — just one last hug, that's all. A few years ago, he'd have done it, no matter how much Raphael yelled and Leonardo told him to grow up, but they feel like strangers with his family's names now. He can't touch them.
Would Donnie know what to do if he were here? Maybe not; maybe Mike's built him up so much over the decades that it's not really Donnie he's looking for anymore. But maybe he would. Maybe Donnie would walk through the doors and know just how to shut Raphael down when he starts to punch the wall, and how to get Leonardo to smile for once.
They broke when Donnie didn't come home, and they're still breaking twenty years later. Mike thought there'd be an end to that, to how much it still hurts. It never ends; he goes to sleep missing Donnie, and he wakes up feeling like part of him's been ripped away. Knowing that Raphael and Leonardo feel the same way — sometimes that feels like the only thing they have in common anymore.
"Who else do you have to send?" Alice asks, in a flat, steady voice. A chill starts working its way up Mike's spine, leaving him cold under the shell. "How many people do we have left who can fight?"
"That's not the point." Leonardo turns to face Alice. "You have a weakness that can be exploited. Karai knows this, which means the Shredder knows it."
"Which means the Boar knows it too. I'm not ignorant, Leonardo."
Mike nearly chokes on the laugh bubbling up his throat. She sounds like him now, so much it's like hearing a ghost talk, all snide and know-it-all, and he thinks Don, you'd be proud, she sounds just as snotty as you did. It's not like April didn't have as much a hand in Alice becoming who she is — the anger is all there, and the shitlooks, and the subtle grace, but Donnie's closer to the surface, almost close enough to touch.
"It won't happen again," Alice promises, ignoring Leonardo's tired sigh. "It won't. And if it does — what does it matter? We're marking time, that's all."
"Hey," Raphael snaps. "Don't talk like that, we're not dead yet, kiddo."
"We will be," Alice fires back, and there's April. Mike rocks back in his chair, sick because he knows Alice is right, and so tired of knowing it. "We've got nothing. Mom and Dad died because they thought we had a chance at getting that stupid spear, and it was all for nothing. We're dead." She tosses her hair over her shoulders. "Maybe if we had the spear, we'd have a chance, but now all we can do is —"
"You are out of line, Alice," Leonardo says, very quietly. "Dismissed."
Mike watches Alice inhale, and tenses, ready for her to snarl something that'll stick in Leonardo's shell like a blade, but she just shrugs. Not defeated, but willing to wait.
"Fine. You guys can waste your time. I've got work to do." She turns and disappears into the dark hallway on the other side of the door.
"She's right, you know," Mike says, once Leonardo sits down. "We are dead."
"We've got some time left," Leonardo says, still quiet. "Time to do some good."
Mike nods, tracing a circle in the dusty ash that coats the table. Far above them, the gentle patter of the rain begins on the roof.
March 15th.
Donnie wakes up to the sound of his own voice, sleep-heavy and bewildered.
"The spear," he says again, as he comes fully awake, shuddering under the weight of something pressing against his mind. It's gone before he can identify it, but the two words linger: the spear.
"What spear?" he asks his ceiling, blinking slowly.
April murmurs sleepily and shifts against him, one arm thrown carelessly over his plastron. "Donnie?" she asks, without opening her eyes. "You okay?"
He nods before he realizes she can't see, then nestles her closer, till her head is tucked under his chin. "I'm okay," he says, and it's true, he is. He's warm, and the curve of her hip fits perfectly into the palm of his hand. "Go back to sleep."
"Mmm. Okay." April wraps a leg over his thigh. "Night."
"Night," Donnie replies, smiling in the dark. He's already half-asleep before the words rise again, like smooth stones just breaking the surface of a pond.
The spear.
There's an itch at the back of his skull, something half-remembered but not important enough to focus on now, so Donnie concentrates instead on using small enough words for everyone around the table to understand.
"All we need is a power source - I know it's a long shot, but if it's not just some nightmare, then accessing that dimension is our best chance at figuring out what the Boar's next move will be."
Explanation finished, Donnie sits back to watch Mikey, Raph, and Usagi blink their way back to full attention. He covers his exasperation with another bite of his omelette. It's perfect, peppery and full of cheese, the way everyone likes it, and every bite makes the warm, well-rested feeling in his chest spread a little farther. He doesn't quite trust it, because this is his life, and the feeling itself is too unfamiliar, but he can't completely ignore it.
Leo pushes his scraped-clean plate away. Donnie makes a note to talk to Leo about this new habit of turning breakfasts into family meetings - it's a good tactic, because then he's guaranteed a captive audience, but it's not the best association with food. "You guys have some ideas, Donnie?"
"A few," Donnie hedges, as April nods, her mouth too full to reply. "I don't — the city might not notice the drain from starting it up, if we're lucky and time it right, but we're not going to find the string right away. Biometrics take a while to track, and we're talking about astronomical distances — so hours, maybe even days. They'll notice if we pull for that long."
"And then they'll come looking." Leo rubs the back of his hand against his forehead. "So, what are your other options?"
Donnie hesitates. He locks his physical tells down right away, so there's no glancing to the side or shifting around on his stool to give him away — but that brief silence does. Leo's eyes sharpen and flick to April. She straightens, her fork and knife held over her plate, then sets them aside and waits.
Leo's gaze never wavers, and even though Donnie's on the outer edge of that focus, a chill works its way through him.
"April?" Leo asks. "Thoughts?"
Donnie feels April wind tight, more aware of her than he's ever been; each muscle coiled tight, anger flaring hot before sinking under guilt. He could step in, and make the suggestion himself. A year ago, he would have. Not today; Leo may not be angry at April, but he still has to deal with her leaving. Donnie needs to stay out of the way.
There's a split second where Donnie feels April's resistance rising, ready to snap at Leo, and he braces himself with a deep breath. Across the table, Mikey and Raph's faces shutter, and even Casey looks wary. Only Usagi is out of sync with the family, but from the angle of his head as he watches, Donnie thinks he's catching up fast.
Then April blows out a short, harsh breath, and picks up her fork again. "We didn't really discuss it," she says, cutting a perfectly square piece of omelette, then cutting it again, and again. "But I think…Kurtzman might have something we can use." She speaks lightly, as if it doesn't pain her at all to say it, but Donnie knows better. Kurtzman is old, Kurtzman is no soldier, even if he's got a Kraang arsenal stashed away in his brownstone. He hates that it's come to this, but there's no better option.
And Leo's going to make April say it.
"You're thinking about whatever Kraang tech he's still got lying around?" Leo says, deliberately slow, just testing the waters. April's nostrils flare, her mouth thins, but she stays silent, still cutting her omelette.
"Like the power cell!" Mikey exclaims, eyes bright, unrepentantly beaming at April when she glares at him. "Nice thinking, April!"
"Well, it's one possibility," Donnie interrupts reflexively. "Like April said, we didn't really talk about it—"
"Kurtzman's a known factor," Leo says smoothly, watching April and not Donnie. "Would one of the power cells give you what you need?" At April's nod, Leo hits the table once with his closed fist. "Then that's Plan A. April, when is he getting back?"
Very clever, Donnie thinks. Everyone around the table goes very still as April meets Leo's gaze.
Leo might have taken April aside to yell at her in private, or he could have ordered her into the dojo or even to meditate on her transgressions, but this isn't a punishment. Leo can be scarily creative with those, but this is far subtler: it's a reminder that no one is exempt from the rules, unspoken or not. And whether or not they agree with Leo's orders, or Leo's rules, they all have to obey them. He's reasserting himself, right out in the open, where no one can miss it.
April lets out a long sigh. It's not obedience; April only falls in line when she agrees with an order, and Donnie knows Leo respects that. His brother doesn't want unquestioning troops, not any longer, not now that they all understand. What Leo wants is consideration. Forethought. Caution.
"About two weeks," she says, still holding Leo's gaze. There's fire, banked low, but Donnie's sure that'll be fine with Leo. April can hate this, she can be furious, so long as she holds the line. And well — if April's angry, Leo's finally gotten smart enough to be able to use it. "I'll make the call." April looks at Leo, eyebrows raised.
"He's not a combatant," Leo says, in answer to her unspoken question. "Tell him as little as possible. Just get the power cell."
April relaxes, brief gratitude flashing in her eyes before she looks away, and turns back to her omelette.
Donnie sighs, earning himself a wry look from Leo, and a slight nod. He nods back, just as wry, a slender shaft of pride for how Leo handled the last few minutes sliding through his mind like sunlight. No punishment without mercy, no leadership without compassion.
"Now that's worked out," Leo says, "we need to talk about patrols. I've given it some thought." He pauses — not, Donnie knows, to look around the table and to make sure everyone's paying attention, the way eighteen-year-old Leo would have, and often did, but to give Mikey a chance to interrupt.
Which, inevitably, Mikey does.
"Ooh! Ooh! Is April gonna go back on patrol again now that she can, you know?" Mikey makes an expansive gesture with both hands that nearly sends his plate and Usagi's flying, and follows it up with a TARDIS noise. Donnie's twice as sorry now that he missed April's big demonstration, especially when he glances up and finds Raph sinking low into his shell.
"Well put, as always," Leo says dryly. "And yes, April is going back on patrol." Mikey's celebratory fist-pump wilts mid-air when Leo keeps talking. "But not with you. Tonight, you're with me."
"Aw, what? Why? Come on, Leo!" The reedy note in Mikey's voice sets Donnie's teeth on edge and his shoulders tightening; rest and food aside, his tolerance for Mikey's whining is still at its usual low. It sounds like Mikey's warming up to a good one, all huge, pleading eyes, but Leo turns to Mikey with a stony face, ready to wait it out rather than cut it off.
Great, Donnie thinks, and settles in to wait it out too. He could excuse himself; no one would question him, and he's debating if he should say anything or just push back his chair and go when April slips her hand into his.
The movement, and their hands, are hidden by the table. No one can see, no one has any idea, but all thoughts of leaving vanish. Of course he'll wait Mikey out, now that he has something better to focus on, and the knot forming under his shell loosens.
"Seriously, Leo?" Mikey says, once Leo catches up to him. "I couldn't get the cool patrol?"
Leo gives him the old I'm the leader look, all narrowed eyes, but Mikey isn't biting. It's not fair; April's got super-super powers now, and he's stuck going to see the grannies with Leo.
He gets it, he does; they need to talk to Angel, figure out how she got mixed up in all this Boar and Bull crap, and since he's the one who actually knows the grannies, he's got to be the one to put in some face time. The only way he knows Angel is through the pictures on Milagros' wall, but Milagros knows him, and that's the in they need.
"You really want to be on a patrol where Raph is in charge?" Leo asks, peering over the roof's ledge to scout the next rooftop. "With Usagi and April? Really, Mikey?"
Mikey mulls that over, tapping his chin. It's not that Raph's a bad leader, especially not on this straightforward stuff. Go here, keep an eye out for weird stuff. If it's their kind of weird, beat the crap out of it and go home. If it's the new weird stuff, haul it back to one of the shelters and do not, repeat, do not engage.
Not even Raph's going to argue with Leo now, not after the other night with the Boar and Slash. They all got a good look at the stakes, and as much as Mikey hates to admit it, they're all running scared. Maybe not as scared as Donnie, who's walking around all starey and hunched-over, but at least he's back in the lair, safe and sound.
So yeah, patrol with Raph wouldn't be that bad, and April's going to be on her best behavior for a while. The chances of Raph getting whomped are pretty low — well, whomped by April, that is. Who knows what could happen with Usagi and Raph on the same patrol? Now that he thinks about it, Leo's got a point. Mikey's good where he is.
"Whatever," he says, because no way is he going to let Leo win that easy, but Leo smirks and bumps his shoulder.
"Glad you see it my way," he says, then nods. "What is it, two more buildings west from here?"
Mikey nods.
"Okay." Leo crouches next to Mikey, eyes all serious. "What do I need to know before we get in there?"
There's about a million things Mikey could say: Milagros is always wearing something purple, she was married twice and has about twenty grandkids but only Angel stayed at home, and she has arthritis real bad in her left hand but she doesn't want people to talk about it.
What he says is, "She's cool. Just follow my lead."
Leo's face says he'd like a little more, but Mikey jerks his head to the west and bounces up on his toes. The air is fresh and cold on his face, but instead of chilling him, it makes him feel bright and easy, like he could fly from one roof to the next. He feels good. And maybe Raph and Leo would think he's dumb to feel like this, but they don't understand. Things are getting back to normal. April's back, and she's got firepower this time, and in a couple weeks, Casey and Donnie'll be back too.
And Donnie's got a plan. So what if no one really understands it? When have they ever grokked what goes on in Donnie's head? The important thing is that he's got a plan, and he's never let them down. The Boar is so bacon when Donnie's through with it.
Mikey's stomach gives a rumbling twist at that — dinner was like, two hours ago — but he contents himself with the thought of the grannies, and their fridges, just two rooftops away, as he starts to run.
"So."
Raph looks up to find April watching him as she tightens her vambraces, yanking on the leather straps with her teeth. He waits, tapping one foot on the ground and sighing; he wants to be topside already, running in the cold air and looking for someone who needs a beatdown. But Usagi's still checking over his weapons, and April hasn't finished accessorizing.
"You're the boss," she says, around another strap. "Where're we headed?"
Raph considers as she tugs on her hood. Leo didn't give him too many restrictions — keep a low profile, pick your fights, prioritize getting home safely over handing out some pain — but Raph still chafes against them. He wants to pound someone's face into the pavement, but he doesn't know if that's his own frustration talking, or something else. Something planted in his head. Better to listen to Leo — as much as he hates to admit it, and he knows that's all him — and play it safe.
"I'm thinking we'll start over by the Bowery," he says, once Usagi stands up and April's finished lacing her boots. "Then work our way back to the lair."
It's a compromise; there's a fifty-fifty chance that they'll find Purple Dragons trying to jack an ATM somewhere along the route, and Raph can think of at least four places to go to ground if things get weird.
Weirder, he corrects himself. If things get weirder.
Usagi gives him a short nod, and April grins as she tugs her hood over her head. "Sounds like a plan," she says, eyes glinting under the black silk. "Shall we?"
Raph's already up the stairs — why bother saying yes, when they could be out the door? — before he realizes that April's not following them.
He starts to yell Hey, O'Neil, thought you wanted to go on patrol, but stops himself. April faces toward the kitchen, head cocked like she's listening for something, and a moment later, Donnie steps into the common room with a mug of coffee in one hand.
Raph watches, annoyed by the delay, as Donnie passes April, his eyes on her the whole time. There's a flicker of movement between them, fast and blurred, and then Donnie's on his way to the lab without a backward look. April takes the stairs two at a time, catching Raph's eyes before sliding past him to leap over the turnstiles.
It takes him a second to understand what he saw, and then Raph blinks, caught between what the hell and well, obviously. Hands. They were holding hands, the dumbasses.
He's tempted for a second to make a big deal out of it — good to know the end of the world means you finally made a move, Donnie! — but decides against it. Casey's always up for a good round of shit-on-Donnie's-life, but Raph doesn't want to wake him up, and Leo and Mikey have already left for their visit to the grannies. Making a big deal out of it would be wasted on Usagi, so Raph tucks that little piece of information away, with a mental note to haul it out later, maybe at breakfast, whenever he's got maximum opportunity for embarrassing Donnie.
"Let's move," he says, as April wheels around and takes the stairs two at a time. She rolls her eyes as she tugs her scarf over her mouth, but that's fine. Raph's got ammunition for later, Donnie's got a plan, and it's going to be a good night.
"Are you sure, Mikey?" Leo peers into the hallway from his perch on the fire escape. "We can just walk in?"
"Dude, I do it all the time," Mikey says airily. "The grannies are the only ones who live on this floor, it's fine." When Leo keeps hovering, Mikey groans and swings through the window. "You wanna hang out in the cold? Works for me. More food this way." He listens for Leo's feet to hit the carpet, but Leo stays on the fire escape like a total creeper. "Leo, come on."
After another few seconds to make his entrance as dramatic as possible, Leo leaps in and shuts the window behind him. "All right, I'm in. Lead the way."
It's impossible to miss the way Leo sticks to the middle of the hallway, so he's got the most room to defend himself if someone comes at them. Mikey does not tell Leo that the worst that could happen to them is maybe Sandra's dog'll like, drool on them, even though he wants to so badly his mouth itches.
"C'mon, this way," he says instead, pointing down the hallway. "All eight of 'em live here, boom boom boom."
"Convenient," Leo murmurs, squinting at one of the wall lamps. "So you can just eat your way from one end to the other?"
"You got it," Mikey replies as they pass the elevator. His heart speeds up just a little, because it's one of those old models, open-air and only some bars and wire mesh to keep everyone in. If they're gonna be seen, it'll be now — but the elevator shaft stays dark and quiet.
"Okay, here we go." He stops in front of Milagros' apartment and takes a second to smile at the angel — haha, angel — hanging below the spyhole. Well, not just to smile at the angel. He's thinking of how to get out of the apartment once they're inside, in case it all goes ass-up and he and Leo need to beat it.
Just like Leo would want. He mentally brushes off his shoulders because he's good, he's so good, and knocks on the door. "Hey, Milagros? It's Mikey. I'm here with my bro Leo. Got a minute?"
There's no answer from the other side of the door. It's late, but not late-late, and he knows Milagros likes to watch some talk show at night, so she should be awake. He knocks again, a little louder this time. Leo flinches, flicking glances up and down the hallway.
"Do you really have to be so loud?" he asks. "We're exposed, Mikey."
"Seriously, chill," Mikey says, a little sharper than he means to. "Just give her a minute. Maybe she's in the bathroom."
Leo sighs, shaking his head, and goes back to watching the hallway.
Mikey rolls his eyes. "Milagros? We wanna talk to Angel. She home? No biggie, just wanna ask her a question."
No answer, but the door opens just a crack when Mikey knocks one more time. "Huh. Weird. Hey, Milagros? Your door's open, we're gonna come in, okay?" He sends up a little wish-flare that he's not about to walk in on Milagros in her undies, and grabs the doorknob. His hand sticks when he tries to turn it, like the knob's coated in honey. "Ugh, gross, what is this stuff? It feels like —"
"Mikey, get away from the door," says Leo, in a dead, quiet voice. He unsheathes one katana and yanks Mikey back with his other hand.
"Dude!" Mikey yelps, thrown off-balance when Leo lets go of him. He pinwheels his arms to stay standing, smacking both hands into the wall behind him before he can finally straighten up. "What is your damage?"
"Look," Leo says in a whisper, pointing at the door. "Look, Mikey."
He doesn't blow a raspberry or roll his eyes, the way he does sometimes when Leo's being a real turd and someone needs to remind him that not everything-everything is life or death. He looks, and then steps back, every nerve crackling awake.
"Dude," he says, low, and takes another step back. It's hard to see the slick gleam along the edge of Milagros' door in the half-light of the hallway, especially when you're not looking for it. He's looking now, and he sees it, golden and thick as syrup. It's leaking out of the deadbolt too, a slow ooze that drips down to the doorknob, and then to the floor.
Something touches him, a finger to his spine, zap, and he flinches into himself. He's not afraid, not up close, like he was when Leo faced down the Boar — if he's scared, it's far away where he doesn't have to worry about it. What he is, is —
Betrayed.
All Mikey wanted was one place, one tiny place, where he could go and forget that he's a big green turtle who fights monsters and robots and aliens. This hallway is where he got a taste of normal, where he could go if things got too crowded at the lair or too weird everywhere else. He'd come here, move furniture around, get fed, watch stupid game shows, and after a few hours he'd stop feeling like there were bruises under his shell. Nothing weird was supposed to touch this hallway, except him.
He swallows, a stale taste coating his tongue, then looks to his left. Now that he knows what to look for, he can see the gleam around every doorframe. Eight doors, eight sticky patches on the old carpet.
It's not fair. Mikey pushes the thought down and swings around Leo toward Anna's apartment. He doesn't grab the knob — he doesn't want any more of that crap on him, no way — so he kicks the door instead, again and again, until the wood groans under his feet.
"What are you doing?" Leo hisses. "Mikey, quit it!"
Mikey gives the door one last kick, and the wood splits in a long line from top to bottom. Leo has to pull him out of the way again as the wood bows outward into the hallway, and the dark mass behind the door spills out in slow-motion. It's not dark all the way through, so Mikey can see the pale outline of a hand, just a few inches away. Anna's hand, her wedding ring glinting through the clear, honey-colored layers.
Now he's pissed, zero to ninety in one second flat. This was his place, he was going to take care of them, none of this would touch them. But it's here, sticky and smelly and inching toward him, ready to suck him in, too.
"Save it," Leo snaps. "We're leaving." He heads for the window they came in, katana still out, and Mikey turns to follow him, nursing the hot rush of anger in his stomach, keeping it primed and ready for when he needs it, but a sudden clank and rumble from way underneath their feet freezes him in place.
The elevator's coming up.
It's a great night, and even April getting cocky with a landing and slipping in a puddle can't ruin Raph's good mood. It even helps, just a little. She goes down swearing, landing so hard Raph watches her bounce before she comes to a stop.
"Wow, that was like, super-graceful," he calls down to her from his spot on the fire escape. Usagi coughs into his sleeve, but when Raph glances over his shoulder, Usagi's eyes gleam.
Yeah, don't even try to pretend that wasn't hilarious, Raph thinks. That stick in your ass is working its way out, no matter how hard you're trying to keep it in there.
"Fuck off," April says, easing to her feet. "It's slippery down here, so watch your dainty little princess feet, Raph. We're almost home, can't have you getting bruised now."
"Aw, thanks," he says, swinging over the railing. The streetlight at the end of the alley's gone out, so he takes the extra second to make sure he'll land far from any puddles before making his jump. "I didn't know you cared."
"I don't," April shoots back. "I just don't want to deal with Casey if anything -" Her sentence cuts off as Raph lands a few feet away, and she lifts her hand to the little bit of light coming down from the billboard on top of the building.
For all the shit Raph gives her, he doesn't think April is a wimp. He can count the times he's seen her scared on both hands. Now, he watches her shudder and gag, and throw herself away from the puddle she slipped in. She stumbles into a dumpster and whacks her shoulder and head on the metal, but doesn't react. She just stares at her hand, her throat working.
"April? You good?" Raph takes a step closer, and freezes when she waves him back. He smells trash, dirty water, and a dull coppery scent on the edge of the air.
"Don't — don't, you'll step in it," she chokes out, waving vaguely at the puddle she slipped in. The whites of her eyes stand out stark in the darkness. "It's — oh, god, it's everywhere."
"What is?" Raph snaps. He hates guessing games, they always make him feel stupid. "Spit it out, April."
Usagi lands a few feet away, light and easy and so silent even Leo couldn't complain, and sucks a breath through his teeth. "Raphael," he says in a tight voice. "We should leave."
April forgotten, Raph turns around, his good mood shattering. "Why? Because April slipped? It's gross, she'll get over it."
"It's not —" April says. Her voice is shocked flat, beyond scared. She holds up her hand, tilts it to catch the light. All Raph can see is black on black, April's leather gloves shiny with it.
The smell. He couldn't smell it from the fire escape, Usagi couldn't smell it, but now it's everywhere, hot and metallic, and Raph can taste it too, dripping down the back of his throat.
No, no, he wants to scream. His voice boils at the back of his throat, and his sai leap into his hands, warm and alive. This is too close, we're almost home. It can't be here.
They'd been too pumped to get back to the lair and out of the cold to see how the entire alley is splashed with blood, great splatters of it on the walls, soaking into the gouges in the pavement. It shines, wet and black, inches away from Raph's feet, and the smell — that's everywhere, soaking into his skin, too deep to wash out.
"There," Usagi says, pointing.
Raph doesn't want to look. Nothing good ever comes out of looking.
It's dark, but away from the streetlights, Raph's eyes pick out the bodies easily enough, crooked arms and legs splayed in a circle near the manhole cover. He looks fast, but it's enough to see the tooth and claw marks, the way the open wounds steam a little in the cold air.
Fresh kills.
Not just that, Raph thinks. It's a message. It's starting.