A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks! I always enjoy hearing from my readers, so never be shy. :D
Many thanks to Arianna for any and all Italian translations in this story. She's been super helpful!
Duckie - Gavin is the bane of my existence, and yet I'm still eager to get into more of his character. Unfortunately, that's a slow progress. Filled with much chipping away at his crusty shields. Thus, I'm also glad Mia's here. XD
Feather - *glances towards corner with a fancy plaque engraved with 'Gavin'* Be prepared to keep him there...He has issues. Anyways. HA. Cliffhanger misdirection. Read on to understand. ;D
Sciencegal - She's fun to write, too!
Guest - Eh? I'm a little confused. Where'd you pick up that Irma's evil? LOL. Guess I can save you some trouble and tell you she isn't. She's on Nia's side. :) That aside, enjoy this journey; it'll take you places. ;)
Chapter 06: Starberry Girl
Again, the blood test failed, and Donatello could do nothing about it.
"Denaturation?" April asked from across the Lair's Lab. Dull thumps from her approaching boots sounded as the purple-masked mutant hammered a weak fist against the table before him. His action rattled three Petri dishes beside a home-made microscope and he pinched the bridge of his wide nose when her touch against his arm roused a sting in his gut.
"Every time," he muttered. "Even with my samples. It's like the IgR is an acid, eating away at the blood's proteins, plasma—everything!"
"Which is rather strange," the redhead added, grip tightening. "IgR is a rejuvenating anti-body, so it shouldn't be volatile."
"I've been thinking about what it could mean."
"The contrary nature?"
Don gave a stiff nod then twisted so April's hand fell while he leaned against the table for support his legs currently lacked. "Our whole existence is determined by electrical impulses. Where they travel determines our actions, our emotions, our health. IgR has an innately neutral state. It resides inside most of Nia's leukocytes. You know, white blood cells."
April flashed a bland look at the genius' 'correction', folding her bare arms before cocking her head of shoulder-length hair. Don blamed habit; he often simplified explanations for Michelangelo and Raphael—sometimes even Leonardo. So he flashed an apologetic smile.
"Her erythrocytes are low," he continued. "Always have been, according to Gavin. But her leukocytes are high."
"That must be because she's a—" The redhead glanced aside a moment.
"Let's not use 'half-breed'. Nia doesn't like the word."
"Then what should we use?"
"I'd say hybrid, but…It's clear she doesn't like that term either."
"It'll do. It's the truth…"
"Yeah." The reality of Nia still registered as strange in Don's mind, honestly. And the way April's green eyes darkened proved he wasn't alone. "Anyways, the leukocytes carry IgR by default. It's where they live. My guess would be that, inside Languu, the count is high because the IgRs are constantly activated or they lay in wait of an injury."
"And in Nia they sit still because—"
"The right electrical impulse isn't sent."
"Not often, but…she did heal herself once, didn't she?"
"She did." Don spoke rigidly, recalling his little sister in a hospital bed. "Not all her injuries went attended, though. I mean, her wrist still aches at times."
"But it happened."
The bō master nodded under the woman's sternness.
"Do you still have the power cell she"—April bit her lip—"drained?"
"I made Mikey retrieve it for me. It was meant for a project to capture Melody and her squad. Since that wasn't necessary, I've been storing it."
"Speaking of Gray, I'm surprised she isn't here. Usually, she's right by our sides."
Don enjoyed his old friend's tone about as much as taking his own blood samples, yet he knew anything short of calmness would end in a fight. "She's monitoring Splinter while he does his nightly exercises. I'm sure she'll be in here afterwards."
"She treats him like an invalid," the redhead noted with a frown.
"No; she treats him like she cares. Actually, she acts a lot like Leo would in this case."
"Don't compare apples to oranges, Donny. You know how useless it is, unless you want to show how different they are."
'Guess I should'a seen that coming,' Don thought as the redhead snorted then turned to clean up the failed experiments on the table. She moved with the furiousness of one bothered by an issue she wanted vanquished, so the mutant opted to help her.
"You had a point," he told the shorter scientist. "If the power cell activated IgR, maybe it's the frequency we need."
"Least it would give us an aim. I'm sort of pissed it's taken us this long to think about it."
"In our defense, it's only been a few weeks since Mel agreed she needed help. Besides, I thought any kind of current would suffice. Lombardo used several, yet none of the ones Mel remembered worked."
"Wonder how Bishop did it." As soon as April's grumble sounded, she stiffened, sending Donatello a pained expression.
"It's alright, Ape," he said. "I'm curious as well. Nia doesn't remember much from her month with the EPF. Says she gets flashes that make little sense."
"But if we don't find the answer soon—"
"I know, April."
"Or maybe you don't." Controlled yet bitter, the woman's tone drew Don's gaze to her intense green eyes. "It's been four days since you called, asking for help with Chemo treatment. Instead, here we are, spending time on IgR, Recro-12, whatever you want to call it."
"It's just…We're so close."
"You've been saying that ever since those healing experiments you did on your leg."
"Which you mustn't mention. Ever."
"Don," April groaned under the mutant's pointed finger, "All you succeeded in was starting an obsession. Splinter needs something now."
"I get it, alright?" Don snapped back—an uncontrollable action. "Mel's been insisting on Chemo as well."
"It's a painful thought," whispered April. Her pale hand outstretched to cover her best friend's fist, which he hadn't realized he formed until glancing downward.
"There're many troubles down that route," the Chūnin muttered with a tight chest. "His body is unique. The treatment itself i—is invasive, corrosive…violent. Forget finding the drugs we need. Mel has connections, but—"
"Connections? To what, the Black Market?"
Don need only stare; he couldn't form words, and the subtle mock in April's tone melted into surprise.
"Is it okay for someone with relations like that to be a part of our clan?"
"You think I like the idea?" The mutant's words were unnaturally booming, enough for April to retract her hand as if struck by them. "My heart aches for her to have such ties, even knowing they were for good reasons."
"What good reasons are there for shady deals? Black Lotus thought they were doing things for good reasons, too. Look how that ended."
Donatello didn't dare answer. If the quiver inside his muscles indicated anything, he was sure it meant the fight he had tried to avoid was one word away.
'Fights won't help,' he reminded himself. 'Until she's willing to accept Melody, I'm powerless. But she is pushing the envelope.'
"Look, I don't want you upset, Donny," April added. Startling shifts from anger to resignation to sympathy were a clear mark of how tired the woman felt, and her new softness eased Don's tension a fraction. "I'm just scared. Splinter's sacrificed so much for his family. And when he needs us the most, it's like we're—"
"Floundering." When April nodded, Don released a silent sigh. "We'll figure it out. We're Hamatos; we always do."
It wasn't right to lie, yet even cynical reasoning needed its place. If he let the doubt in now, it wouldn't stop. And Splinter couldn't afford such weakness from his son.
"In that case," started April, "I'll make some calls. Talk with Gavin. Maybe we can find a less questionable source to get what we need. Sound good?"
"Sure. A—are you leaving now?"
Pausing in her walk towards a jacket laid over a chair, April nodded. "It's not that late, so I'm thinking about visiting the Anders before heading home. Nia's staying the night with them, right?"
"Her mother was asking for her, but I think she's coming here first. Mikey and Raph left to escort her from work a little while ago."
"Shouldn't they be back by now?"
Don flashed a look, though it was directed at April's backside as she slipped into her jacket. "Probably. But who knows what trouble they're getting into."
Nowadays, Michelangelo found most billboards repulsive—especially the one that currently loomed before him.
'Seriously, how can anyone green light such a disgusting picture? Isn't it bad enough the guy reoccurs in my nightmares without his giant face being displayed at least once in a five-block radius? And here I was hoping I could avoid him if I patrolled Chinatown tonight.'
Apparently, such was too much to ask from Turtle Luck.
The Chūnin was left to scowl at Agent Bishop's sly grin—not bothering with a second glance towards the bold-lettered message—before he spun on the heel of his costume's boot. Folding his arms was restricting, yet despite cries from his green leather suit, he managed it without ripping any seams. The upturned lip along a steep, tile roof gave him firm ground to sweep the night area for trouble.
'Here I am. Alone. Again. I know Raph wanted to spend time with Nia, but…Naw, he wasn't brushing me aside. He even played Space Heroes this morning like promised. Still, it's getting a little old…having to leave them be.'
The feeling was totally selfish, wasn't it? He didn't mean for it to be. If he could, he'd rather not have it at all. It simulated jealousy to an uncomfortable degree, and he experienced enough of that during the Black Lotus incident.
'She picked Raph. I get it. I respect her choice, so…what's wrong with me? During my talk with Splinter before he was…diagnosed, he said I'd be balancing emotions because of new family roles. I thought he meant Melody joining us, but I guess, even then, I knew what he really meant.'
Raph and Don were now married turtles. They didn't have legal certification, but even if they did, matters would change very little. Point being, their priorities had shifted. Just a little, yet enough to notice when the couples wanted one another.
'Wouldn't be so bad if Leo were here as a fellow bachelor. Hugh hasn't called me since I saw him and Kaiya yesterday. Already that meeting feels like weeks ago. I could start sitting in on the talks when the Nerd Quartet gets together. Then again, those end up making me more depressed…'
Mikey groaned. No matter where he invested his efforts, it seemed he had few callings to fulfill at home. At least Topside, in a city filled by crime, he could make some difference.
'Speaking of…'
The caped-hero crouched on the roof ledge, peering over it with well-practiced ease. Below many strings of lit hanging lanterns, he spotted a crowd. Not your usual kind that traveled the concrete walkways set at the feet of brick buildings decorated by colorful awnings. This was more of the fast-paced kind, the kind in hot pursuit. There were fifteen—according to Mikey's judgment—wearing all black with a smaller figure dressed in pink at their head.
For a moment, the mutant considered them Foot. After catching several threats as they barreled past, he changed his mind.
'Foot know better than to go around parading themselves. Must be gangsters. Guess it's a simple damsel in distress scenario then? Why, that's my calling. Now I'm glad Raph ain't here!'
With no further prompt needed, Mikey sprung into action.
He'd seen the crowd tunnel through the gateway arch then hang a right, so he had to be quick. Powerful leaps conquered steep rooftops in seconds only a Hamato could achieve, and their owner needed no more than a moment to find the group's trail. It wasn't hard, really; they left it in loud, angry shouts, heading towards Columbus Park.
'They're catching up,' the hero thought while dropping to street level.
A sense of wrongness forced Mikey's attention left then right when out in the open. It made him feel naked, as if he was vulnerable to anything that traveled the wide, triangular intersection. Thankfully, only a single car passed without incident, so Mikey shook his head, aware he should stop stalling.
His next moves were fueled by utter confidence. After bolting across the intersection then using a bench as leverage to vault over the playground's high iron fence, the hero darted towards the double set of monkey bars—where the black-clad gangsters flocked around their prey. Though lighting was sparse, Mikey instinctively scanned the area for ample coverage for an ambush.
Not a moment later he realized: he wasn't playing ninja tonight.
"Hey, short, dark and loud-mouthed!" he cried for their attention. When he had it, he placed his arms akimbo then lifted his chin. "Why not back off? Even I'm not desperate enough to chase down a girl like that."
"Who the hell are you?" one member asked in clear derisiveness. His pierced brow arched, though the action could barely be seen below the intersecting light from two lamps.
"What's with the cape?" another added, laughing.
"Is there a geek convention in town?"
No, Mikey wouldn't allow their teases to effect him; he stood straighter, pointing an finger at a random gangster. "I can't accept—"
"Wait," a feminine voice interjected. It was light, cutesy, yet beneath it something dangerous laid—something Mikey couldn't quite place.
His arm remained outstretched as his gaze shifted from the gangsters towards the bright figure they had herded between parallel bars. Petite, almost scrawny, she didn't look like a threat. Her pale green hair was done up in a high ponytail decorated with a bow. And she wore pink and white with black accessories like thigh-high fishnets, combat boots, and elbow-length gloves that gave her a punk-like feel. Despite the odd mix, only the rounded eye mask over her face sealed the hero's attention.
"What do you think you're doing?" the young woman questioned, crossing her arms below the black bow on her sleeveless shirt.
The gold star emblem at its center drew Mikey's attention before he adopted a new pose. "I'm here to rescue you?" he countered, albeit unsurely because of the glare he felt.
"There's no rescuing this brat," gang member One sneered. As if to emphasize his point, he punched his palm then cracked his knuckles.
"Yeah, this little girlie has messed with our business for the last time."
"Sciocco," the green-haired female spat. "How long will it be until you lot get my name through your thick skulls. It's Starberry Girl."
"Starberry Girl," Mikey echoed.
'That means she's the girl from the news!'
"Si, that's my name. And"—pausing to crouch, the heroine grinned—"I got these bulli right where I want them."
Michelangelo wished to question what 'sciocco' and 'bulli' meant, except he hardly had the chance to blink before action exploded.
One moment Starberry Girl was poised like a rabbit ready for escape, the next she lifted her thin body with the parallel bars' help. Her legs tucked close after her initial swing, and when two gangsters bum-rushed her, she was obviously prepared. Her feet shot forward with a power that would shame a kangaroo, her grin growing. As the men groaned on the ground, she shifted forward in wait for the next wave.
It came in a trio, which filed one-by-one towards the bars with pointless screams. Starberry Girl didn't swing again until they were close. To Mikey's trained eye, he saw she timed it perfectly; so she could switch the way she faced before the taller men flew under her. Force and surprising strength propelled her into a handstand, and the three gangsters had little chance to realize what happened before her combat boots descended like a pendulum axe against their backs.
Maybe a need to prove her point gave her drive to finish the move by propelling off their slumped bodies, twisting into a flawless aerial spin that landed her hands against the asphalt. Then her feet. Over and over again until she bypassed the gangsters and stood upright near Michelangelo. Her maneuver resembled dancing—elegant, seamless—and he had to wonder if, somewhere down the line, she had Ninjutsu training as well.
"Ugh, you, uh, s—should be careful," Mikey said over the gangsters' curses. It felt like his hero facade faltered the longer he stared at Starberry Girl, cracking his voice, so he contemplated resorting to ninja mode.
"Does it look like I can't handle myself, Figo?" The heroine snorted through her upturned nose, though movement from the gangster swarm diverted his attention.
"I admit, you have skill," he noted while taking a stance. "Even so, you ought'a be more careful. This is, like, twenty guys, and you only recently surfaced in New York. Amateurs shouldn't—"
A dull yet notable pressure met Mikey's throat. He didn't sense maliciousness or a blade's edge, which is why he didn't outright retaliate. Instead, he sent the green-haired human a sidelong glance, eyes traveling the long length of a golden staff he hadn't seen before.
'Where was she keeping that?'
"Don't call me amateur," she hissed in a voice pitched with an unidentified accent. Then, she pushed the staff's butt farther into Mikey's neck. "I am no dilettante!"
"Is there something wrong with the English language?" the mutant countered. "Really, we're in America. What if I started talking in Japanese?"
"You don't seem Japanese."
"I don't seem like a lot of things that I am."
"Want to know what I think?" Gang Member One had recovered from his earlier falter and his crew slowly followed his lead.
"Not really," Starberry Girl shot back.
"Too bad; I think ya'll are ready for a real lesson." As he spoke, a misshapen smile spread across the man's dirty face—fearless because of what he and his companions aimed with: hand guns.
"Guns," the heroine said flatly.
"You should get out of here," Mikey replied in new seriousness. His glare landed on the small army ahead and instinct called him to stand before the young woman.
She would have nothing of it, though; she rounded his side, spinning her Star Staff. "It's not my first tango with guns."
"Mine either, but—"
"Stop. I'm here and I'm fighting. You have no idea what these guys have been up to…"
"Fine." With grim resignation, Mikey prepared himself for the charge he sensed coming. "But can you at least team up with me?"
The green-haired female glanced his way. Then smirked.
A/N: Told you more cliffs would be coming. :P