Michelangelo gave his family a glance of consternation mixed with disbelief. "You're saying I fell asleep – on Raph – then screamed at Master Splinter? Is this is joke? 'Cause I think you need to consult with Dr Prankenstein, dudes. That's not funny at all."
His second-eldest brother looked at him worriedly. "You mean you don't remember? Any of it, I mean?"
Mikey shook his head at Donatello's concerned gaze. "I remember thinking I would catch a few Z's after Leo clocked me at practice," he grinned winningly at his eldest brother to demonstrate that there were no hard feelings about that fact. "Other than that, no. Why would I snuggle Raph? He's about as cuddly as a mutant ninja cactus. Have you tested him lately, Donnie? There's gotta be some cactus DNA in there somewhere."
Suppressing the growl rising in his throat, Raphael couldn't help but retort. "So who was the one sneaking into my bed for a week after he watched The Grudge, huh? 'Cause I don't think Leo or Donnie smell so much like anchovies, you little limpet-"
"Enough," Sensei gritted out over the sound of April giggling and Mikey trying in vain to defend his honour. "My son, I'm afraid that what your brothers say is the truth. For the past two days you have been very much off-kilter."
His heart lurching inexplicably as his father spoke, Michelangelo ducked his head in an attempt to seem smaller. "I…I really don't remember, Sensei…can't we just forget about it?"
Master Splinter was silent for a moment. Mikey could feel his piercing gaze on the back of his head, and shifted instinctively closer to Raph.
Finally, the giant rat spoke, his voice tempered by concern.
"We shall see how you are feeling tomorrow, my child. I fear that we are all becoming overly nervous for no reason."
"But Sensei-"
"Enough, Leonardo. Your brother is telling us that he feels fine, and we shall accept his word. April," he addressed his honorary daughter, who looked up in surprise.
"Hai, Sensei?"
"Perhaps you would like to stay for dinner this evening? I feel that my sons would appreciate the company. For now," he sighed, and Mikey felt that inscrutable gaze focus once more in his direction. "I will retire to my room."
The moment Sensei left, Mikey's heart lightened and he clamped on to April, not noticing her hiss as his cold skin came into contact with her warmth. "April! Let's have a sleepover! We can watch movies and play video games and eat pizza and I can show you my room-"
"How is that any different to what you do every other night?" Donnie muttered in a somewhat sour undertone.
"Because April is here!"
Heading off an argument before it started, April hugged Mikey back, and winked at his older brothers over his shell. "Sure, Mikey. Let me just go grab some supplies, and we'll have fun, ok?"
Mikey beamed, feeling satisfied even though Donnie was still glaring at him. He aimed a smile in his big brother's direction, and received an exasperated, but ultimately fond, headshake in return. The youngest turtle's smile gradually faded as he turned his thoughts inward. Why was everyone freaking out? His memories of earlier in the day, and the day before, were fuzzy, but he could vaguely remember feeling like he'd lost something; some kind of buzzing anxiety fizzed low in his belly. He had to find—
There was something he had to find, wasn't there? This was important, wasn't it? The hunger gnawing at his stomach wasn't important, neither was the cold that crept over his skin and lodged under his scales. That doesn't matter. Nothing matters but finding her. She's looking for me. I need to find M—
"…ikey? Mikey? You ok, buddy?"
A soft impact to his plastron brought him swiftly back into reality, and Mikey shook his head. What was he just thinking about? Something about being hungry?
"Sorry, Donnie! Just thinkin' about what pizza to order! How does mayonnaise, chicken and red peppers sound, dude?"
Donnie shuddered. "Horrifying, as per usual."
"Ah, you have no imagination. I'm a total conglomerate when it comes to food."
"I think you mean connoisseur. And, wow, you're really not."
Michelangelo stuck a disdainful tongue out at his second-eldest brother, at the same moment as Leo and Raph left to escort April topside. The lair suddenly seemed eerily empty without three of its occupants, and Mikey shivered, plopping himself into the now available seat on the couch next to Donnie.
"Is it cold in here, or is it just me?" he asked his brother with a grimace. Donatello's eye-ridges raised in surprise.
"It's pretty warm in here, Mikey, but if you want, I can go ask Sensei for-"
Alarm made Mikey clutch on to Donnie's arm. "No! Don't leave!"
The eye-ridges raised further. "Why not?"
"Just…let's find a movie to watch, okay? What d'you think April would like?"
Mentioning April seemed like a good distraction, but Donnie's eyes remained distant and thoughtful as they pulled up Netflix on his laptop. Mikey found it difficult to keep his attention focused on the choice of movies, but relaxed slightly when his big brother casually slung his arm around Mikey's shell.
Everything's okay, nobody is calling me. Nobody is calling me. Nobody is calling me…
April had always known that the Hamato clan were a close-knit family. Having nothing but each other whilst growing up had made her adopted brothers free with their affection, and it was a regular occurrence to see one pounce on, pat, noogie, or hug any of the others. However, this evening, the obvious worry that the three eldest felt for their baby brother was being expressed with a kind of clinginess she had never seen from them before. They had gathered in a casual sprawl in front of the TV at the beginning of the evening, and gradually shuffled closer to the youngest member of the clan. April wasn't even sure if they were aware of it happening.
Currently, her back was settled comfortably against a cushion on the couch, Michelangelo's head in her lap. Raphael was sitting on the floor in front of them, head tipped back as he snored loudly whilst maintaining a death-grip on his only little brother's wrist. Leonardo was on her right, still ostensibly watching the antics of Ben Stiller on the television screen, but April couldn't help but notice his eyes were on Mikey more often than they were focused on the movie.
It was Donatello who struck her as the most fretful over whatever was happening to his baby brother. When she, Raph and Leo had returned earlier, bags full of Murakami's finest filling their hands, they had found the two curled up together, Donnie pointing various things out on his laptop that he thought would amuse Mikey. If a cat massaging another cat didn't get a response, then April feared nothing would.
Mikey had perked up when his siblings returned, but only picked at the food they had brought. His earlier enthusiasm had clearly waned whilst they were out gathering supplies. They had tried not to be too obvious as they watched him throughout their evening, but it was hard not to notice his furtive, almost fearful glances towards the dojo, his occasional murmured words to questions none of them had asked, and his constant shivering. It was so unlike their smiley, sunshiney Mikey.
Donnie was presently dozing uneasily, stretched out next to them on the couch and gripping Mikey's legs in an uncomfortable hold. April could see that worry was taking its toll on the smartest turtle; he knew what kind of diseases could take lives so quickly in this environment. He had been paying special attention to his baby brother all evening; trying to tempt him in to eating just one more pizza gyoza, pointing out what was happening in the movies, asking him if he was cold or sad or uncomfortable near constantly.
April jolted when Mikey suddenly shivered convulsively, and muttered something unintelligible once again in his sleep. She soothed him with a gentle hand placed on his forehead, and looked up into Leo's inscrutable inky gaze.
"What are we gonna do, Leo? He's really sick," April said, blinking unhappily at her honorary brother.
Leo was silent for a long moment, the light from the flickering TV set making his face look carved from stone. Then, suddenly, he sagged, weariness evident in every line of his body.
"I don't know, April. We don't even know what's wrong with him. We can't take him to a doctor, and we don't have the technology to treat him ourselves if anything is seriously wrong. Dammit," he cursed, slapping his open palm on to the couch in frustration, and making April jump. "Why Mikey, April? I can't…we can't-"
She could see his obvious turmoil, and her caring heart went out to him. Reaching out with the hand not currently placed on Michelangelo's clammy forehead, she hooked an arm around his neck, and pulled. He collapsed into her side, and buried his face in her shoulder. She could feel him trembling.
"It's not fair," Leo mumbled. "It's not fair, we save people, a-and now Mikey's sick, and Raph's upset, and Donnie's strung out, and I…I'm…"
"You're exhausted," April soothed. "Leo, you can't watch them all the time. Everything is gonna be fine, you hear me? We won't let anything bad happen to him. I'll watch them, you go to sleep."
She could see the look in his eyes that told her that he was about to protest, so she tilted his head up to meet his eyes.
"Leo. Go to sleep."
A gusty sigh echoed through the large, empty space of the dojo. Master Splinter's meditation was not progressing as he had hoped. Every time his mind began to sink into the cool, quiet peace of his spiritual self, a jolt of anxiety would cause his coppery eyes to spring open. Ears flattened tight against his furry scalp, he would cast around for any malicious presence, but find only his own desperate concern for the fate of his youngest son.
He sighed again, pushing himself to his feet and, wincing slightly at the pins and needles in his paws, made his way silently to the living area in which his sons and adopted daughter resided. There, he found an incredibly drowsy April keeping a close watch over a progressively untidy gathering of sleeping turtles. He glanced at the clock, and smiled fondly at his newest pupil. It was four A.M.
Clearing his throat softly made her jerk her head towards him. "S-Sensei…" she mumbled. "Sorry, I think I was dozing off…"
Splinter held up a hand to stop her. "It is alright, my child. Get some rest, now. You have performed admirably in watching over my sons, and I thank you. When you awake, I believe I have something that I must tell you all."
April's eyes were drooping even before he had finished his speech. Her head fell back on to the headrest, and she was out in seconds. Splinter caressed her hair gratefully, provoking a small murmur from Michelangelo in her lap, and settled himself in the lotus pose on the floor in front of his children.
They must know about the incident twelve years ago, he thought to himself, for I fear that it is occurring once again.
Trapped in his thoughts, Splinter barely noticed the hours passing, until the stirring of one of his sons broke him out of his meditative trance. Glancing up, he noticed Donatello wincing as he uncurled himself from Michelangelo's legs. His most intelligent son blinked slowly, smacking his beak a little to alleviate his dry mouth.
"Good morning, Donatello," Splinter said. His son flailed in a way most unbecoming for a young man trained in ninjitsu, and toppled backwards off of the couch with a thunk that stirred the rest of the assembled teenagers out of their slumber.
"Ugh, Donnie, you're such a dork," yawned Raphael, who closed his mouth with an audible snap when his father elbowed him lightly.
"G…good morning, Sensei," came the muffled reply from the ground. Donatello straightened, rubbing his head with a petulant expression directed at Raphael. Leonardo nodded at his father with a strained smile, clearly feeling the unpleasant effects of a night disturbed by worry and confusion. Splinter's eldest son busied himself with checking on Michelangelo, whose eyes were half-open, and, more distressingly, milky and distant. April rubbed the dark circles forming under her eyes, and addressed Leonardo in a grave tone.
"He's getting colder."
Splinter's whiskers twitched as his children winced at the unwelcome news. He knew that it was time to address his growing concerns, and hoped that they would forgive him for keeping his suspicions to himself for so long.
"My children," he said solemnly. "I believe I may have an idea as to what is making your brother so unwell."
Their attention snapped to him in a heartbeat. Donatello lowered himself into a crouch by his father's side, eager to learn of anything that could help his baby brother, while Raphael's green eyes darkened with a mixture of frustration and eager anticipation.
"What d'you know, Sensei? Why didn't you tell us before?!"
"Patience, Raphael," Splinter chided gently. "My theory is unproven, and required much thought before I troubled you with it. However, Michelangelo's symptoms are not dissimilar to an event that occurred when the four of you were very young. You see, twelve years ago, I took you often to a place we referred to as 'Tunnel 49'…"
As Sensei explained his unsettling thoughts, an odd sense of familiarity stole through Raphael's consciousness. By the end of his father's tale, he had formed the same connection that had dawned on the faces of his siblings.
"…wait," Donnie said, his eyes shadowed with scepticism. "You're saying all this – Mikey's illness, the deaths in the sewers – is all to do with a…ghost?"
Raph could tell that his father wasn't thrilled with Don's tone, but Sensei managed to keep his frustration under control as he answered. "Donatello, my son, I know that your scientific mind will have trouble grasping what I have just told you. However, there are many things in this world that are as yet unexplainable by science. Michelangelo's symptoms fit exactly those he experienced a decade ago. I have no other explanation to give."
Cowed slightly, Donnie nodded, though his face remained incredulous. Raph could see that his elder brother's reddish-brown eyes were distant, which usually indicated some intense thought being processed in his vast mind. To be completely fair, the red-banded turtle was slightly sceptical himself; ghosts, in a sewer of all places, were to blame for his little brother's illness?
Thankfully, Leo chose that moment to interrupt with the thought that was on everyone's mind.
"Sensei…how do we fix this? How do we save Mikey from a ghost?"
Trust Leo to believe their father's story implicitly. He raised a good point, though. If it was a…ghost making Mikey sick, how were they supposed to fight it? You can't exactly kick the butt of a spook.
"Precisely, Raphael," Splinter addressed his most volatile son, who jumped and blushed a little as he realised that he'd spoken that last part aloud. "Which is why, when night falls, I will go down to Tunnel 49, and attempt to imprison the spirit in the same manner as I did all those years ago."
A chorus of voices met Splinter's statement with varying degrees of dismay.
"Alone?!"
"Sensei, be reasonable!"
"You don't even know what this thing is capable of!"
Master Splinter sighed heavily. "My children, I appreciate your concern, but I cannot allow you to put yourselves, or Michelangelo, in any danger. I am the only one who has faced this entity and survived, so I must go alone. You will look after your brother, who, it seems, would rather fake unconsciousness than be around me right now."
The hurt in Sensei's voice was unmistakeable, and Raph, along with his brothers and April, glanced at their baby brother. Michelangelo let out a small whimper, and cuddled closer to April. Master Splinter's ears lowered slightly, and Raphael found himself assailed with a sudden unbearable frustration.
"Snap out of it, Mikey! You know Sensei isn't gonna hurt you!" he growled, immediately shrinking back at the combined emotional overload of the rest of the family's glares in his direction, and the terrible desolation in his little brother's milk-pale eyes.
"That is enough, Raphael," Sensei said. He heaved himself up from the ground with an uncharacteristic slowness. "My sons, I do not wish to distress your brother any more. I am going to bed. Please, wake me up if…if he deteriorates."
"Hai, Sensei," Leo muttered. The rest of them nodded solemnly as Splinter made his way to his rooms. The humanoid rat stopped quite suddenly, and turned to face his children.
"Just to be clear," he said with a great deal of ominous importance, "none of you are to venture into that tunnel until I awake. Do you understand me?"
"Hai, Sensei!" came the unanimous chorus from the assembled teenagers.
"I can't believe you talked us into this, Donnie," Leo grumbled, shivering slightly as the frigid October dampness settled over his scales.
"Look, there's no way Mikey is ill because a ghost is haunting the sewers around Central Park, alright? So we're just gonna go down and have a look to put Sensei's mind at rest." Donnie expertly dodged the myriad of unruly tree branches amongst the undergrowth of Central Park as he spoke. The three eldest turtles had been convinced by the smartest among them to sneak out whilst Sensei was sleeping, leaving April in charge of Mikey's care. It was a wrench to leave him, but there was no changing Donnie's mind. They had waited until dusk had fallen, and crept out, not before making April promise to call them if anything changed.
"Yeah, well it's not his mind I'm worried about," said Raph, swatting at an orange leaf that settled briefly on his snout. "He's gonna kick our butts when he finds out we came here."
"Oh, hush. Look, we're here." Donnie's keen eyes detected the slumped figure of what could only be a bored, frustrated security guard in front of the fenced-in area housing the damaged grate. He could only imagine the tedium of sitting all day in front of an entrance to the sewers, just in case anyone was curious enough to venture down. Distracting him would be easy; it would likely be the first piece of action he had seen all day.
Reaching into his belt, Donnie withdrew a tiny, rat-shaped piece of robotic machinery and set it silently amongst the leaves. At his brothers' curious looks, he grinned ruefully.
"I got the idea from Stockman's mousers," he said. "I know it doesn't look like much right now; it's a prototype really, but it should get the job done."
Pulling out his T-Phone, he connected to an app that allowed him to wirelessly control the little device, and sent it scurrying into the undergrowth just beyond the guard. The human looked up sharply at the tiny rustling sound, then went back to his newspaper with a sigh.
"Oh, great job, Donnie," Raph hissed. "That really-"
Raphael was interrupted sharply as Donnie grinned, and pressed a large finger onto a button. A shrill, metallic screech, not unlike that of the mousers, caused the security guard to leap out of his folding chair, looking around wildly. Donnie accepted his brothers' kudos with all the dignity he can muster as the human dashed into the woods.
Tunnel 49, after they near-silently levered open the broken grate and slipped inside, proved to be a lot smaller than their vague, distant memories recalled. The smell of mould and rotting vegetation was strong, and dust from the recently disturbed bricks still choked the air. There was another tunnel to the side of them; pitch black and exuding such a feeling of ominous silence that even Donnie was forced to admit to himself that the overall effect was foreboding.
"O-ok, so…we'll just look around a little, and prove to Sensei that this whole 'ghost' thing is ridiculous. Right, fellas?" Donnie looked around at his brothers, who nodded hesitantly, and ducked below the strewn police tape to join him. Though their eyesight was better in the dark than most, they unanimously agreed to risk turning on the weak flashlight Donnie had brought. The dim glow threw twisted shadows around the small space, and seemed to fade almost entirely when the three of them stepped into the side tunnel.
Leo started violently when Raph swore from his position just behind him. "What?!" he hissed. "What's wrong?"
"Something just slapped me in the beak, lamebrain," Raph retorted. When Donnie pointed the flashlight in their direction, the offending object was revealed to be an old, severed piece of rope, with something that might have once been white hanging from it.
"That's…that's one of Sensei's shimenawa," Leonardo murmured, reaching a trembling hand toward the damaged rope. "How did it get broken? This…this almost looks burnt…"
His baffled musing was interrupted as a distressed cry echoed faintly through the sewer tunnels. The three brothers looked at each other, briefly relieved when they realised that none of them had made the sound. However, their relief was short-lived as the familiarity of the voice sank in.
"MIKEY!"
Forty minutes. Forty minutes, they had been traipsing around the sewers of New York, and they still hadn't managed to find their way remotely near Central Park, and the supposedly haunted tunnel. Dean growled under his breath, wishing that they hadn't tossed the maintenance jackets they had used as cover to get down here.
"It's freaking freezing, my shoes are ruined, and my nose is cold," he complained to his younger brother. "Shouldn't this place be signposted or something?!"
"Don't be such a whiner," Sammy replied, earning himself a smack in the back of the head for when they got out of here. "We came down at 38th, we should be getting to the park soon."
Dean sniffed plaintively, though he tried to mask it as derision. "And since when are you the expert on the NYC sewer system?"
"I dunno, Dean, since I actually did a little research? God, you can't expect-" Sam's irritated voice was cut off suddenly as Dean threw an arm in front of him.
"…Wait," Dean muttered. "You hear that?"
The musty stillness of the sewer tunnel was broken by a faint splashing noise, sounding almost like uneven footsteps drawing closer to them. Dean touched his brother's sleeve lightly, flicking his eyes to a niche in the tunnel wall. Sam nodded, and they both concealed themselves as whatever was staggering towards them approached. The elder hunter flexed his fingers around his shotgun as the creature drew near, noticing with some…minor alarm that the shadowy outline looked like nothing he had ever seen. Next to him, Sam shifted slightly, the sleeve of his over-shirt coming into brief contact with the rough, damp brick beside his arm. The slight rasping sound it made should have been almost inaudible, but the creature came to a sudden halt, its body frozen and its head raised.
"Dammit," Dean cursed, nudging his brother into immediate movement. Sam struck a flare and tossed it at the monster, which skipped nimbly backwards with a loud cry of alarm. Dean exploded into action, rushing the creature and slamming it into the sewer wall with his arm digging harshly into its throat. He had a split second to take in his captive's features, and was astounded to see a bandana tied around its eyes, and what looked like weapons thrust into a belt on its hips. The creature was much smaller than him in height, and, from what he could tell in the wavering red glow of the dying flare, green. A pair of big, frightened eyes looked up at him, and Dean felt a short-lived pang of guilt for what he was about to do.
"Holy shit, Dean, is that a turtle?!" Sam's voice came from a short distance behind him. Dean risked a glance, and saw that his brother, whilst still maintaining his steady aim on the creature with his Glock, looked gobsmacked. He looked back at the feebly struggling monster, and brought his own gun up to rest under its chin.
"What are you doing with the kids, huh? How are you making them sick?"
The monster looked stunned and terrified, shaking its head the best it could under the pressure Dean maintained on its throat. He was damn astonished himself. It could clearly understand what he was saying to it, and judging by the weapons and accessories, had a pretty human way of thinking.
"Can you talk? I'll ask you again. What. Are you doing. To. The kids?!" Dean emphasized the importance of his point by slamming the creature against the sewer wall again. At that moment, the flare died.