A/N: Less than ten chapters to go, Dudes and Dudettes. :)

Sciencegal - Think that's pretty and intense? Wait until you meet a full blood Languu... ;)

WOLF - But if they're covered, you won't see the rest of the mayhem! :D

Chapter 42: Backlash

Man, did Michelangelo's side ache. It felt like the Bear-Hound thing that had attacked him days ago still had a hold of its victim, and sometimes the pain blurred his vision. Even so, he refused to leave Nightwatcher's side, no matter how many times Hun sent the duo rolling across the hidden EPF parking lot.

"I told ya ta take cover, Doofus," Nightwatcher growled from behind his tinted helmet.

Mikey pulled his cape out from between his legs, glancing up at the black-clad mutant who cast a shadow over him. "Bu—but more guards could come at any second."

"We've already lost track 'a Sven 'n Switchblade. At this rate we'll need ta—"

"Fall back?" Such a deep scoff could only belong to Hun, and it drew Mikey's attention forward. The gangster snarled beyond three unconscious bodies, a smart car's door dented around his fist. "That would be your wisest choice. I don't have time for costumed fools."

"Why? Got a hot date?"

Mikey's jest went unappreciated; without so much as a smirk, Hun punched the door with such strength that it became a missile. The hero was tackled by Nightwatcher out of harm's way, and he heard a curse and a crack when the door nicked his older brother's shoulder.

"For your sakes, you should let me pass."

"Maybe he's right." Mikey chuckled as his brother rolled away. "We could use him like a trap magnet."

"Trap…?" Glaring, Hun set his gaze on someone rousing from the asphalt. With thumping steps, he approached the figure, snatched him up by his EPF uniform, and read the name embroidered across his bullet-proof vest. "Agent Patterson. I heard this is where Bishop keeps his prisoners. There are two, maybe three, in particular I want back. And I need your…help."

"Fat chance," Patterson countered.

A chuckle bubbled within the agent's chest, but Hun quelled it by turning Patterson lengthwise, holding him over his head like some UWS competitor. "One chance before I break your spine."

The man strained in Hun's hold. "Be my guest. Better broke than to end up like Mahoney or that sick Hispanic."

"Rojo?"

Patterson grunted, lips sealed.

"What has Bishop done to my soldiers?" Hun snarled. His large hands bent Patterson further until the smaller man writhed. Still, he stayed so quiet the blonde's eye began twitching. "Are they under biometric lockdown? Should I bring your corpse, just in case?"

'This guy's really pushing it,' Mikey thought, mouth dry. 'Would he really rather die than help?'

"I—I don't have that clearance," Patterson replied with a snide laugh. "Bishop won't let me in to Reese's cell here, let alone the ones on The Island."

"What island?"

"Uh—"

"Answer!"

"Raph, shouldn't we do something?" Mikey hit his brother's arm, but Nightwatcher remained kneeled, gripping his hurt shoulder.

"They bring up a good point. Possible traps aside, we can't get anywhere near Hugh wit'out Sven."

"He's the closest to a hacker we've got while Don's busy. Still—"

"Uh, Hun? Sir? We have a problem."

Hun looked in no mood for bad news and scowled at the female voice that spoke through light static. "What is it, Spike?" he asked towards his shoulder.

Was a mike hidden there? And why was it on speaker by default? Mikey shook these questions from his head then focused on Spike's reply.

"It's Pierce."

"What about him?" Rolling his eyes, the mammoth lowered Patterson so the soldier's tailbone rested atop the blonde's head.

"I—I'm sorry, Sir. I just saw the report on my phone. News Six even had helicopter footage by the end."

"And?"

"He hijacked a bus full of kids that were on a field trip."

She didn't mean Kaiya's bus, right? That had to be a coincidence, some other field trip. Right? Michelangelo wanted to believe so, and thus suspended the belief, his lungs frozen as Spike continued,

"It went south. The bus sped up Unfinished Bridge then rolled. It—it fell off the edge, Sir, onto the bypass."

Yup, definitely not Kaiya's bus. Spike never even mentioned—

"There was another cyborg, one who could fly. She kept it from falling for a while, but after the EPF showed up, Pierce was trapped. He tried fighting his way out and—"

"How could he have failed?" Hun snapped.

"They had Hunt, Sir." Spike sounded almost too scared to answer. "H—he's switched sides. Used an EMP, killed Pierce."

"So Bishop finally got his field test," Patterson added. It was enough to earn him a fist in the face when the PD leader lowered him.

"Where's Pierce's body?" Hun asked over Patterson's gasp for air.

"EPF took it. And the backlash is bad. Your cyborgs are falling, Sir, and members at HQ are…shaken by that."

"You tell those bastards to hold their ground."

"We're overrun! There're too many Forty-Fours and the police—"

"Just do it, Spike! Reinforcements will be on their way."

"What about—"

"That's not your concern. Your only job is to make sure no one gets to Doctor Jensen, so do it. Now"—lifting Patterson by the hair, Hun stared down his captive like a mad lion—"tell me, would Bishop take Pierce to where he's holding Little Spice?"

"That psycho should stay in cryo," Patterson spat.

Apparently, the last straw had been drawn for Hun. The blonde roared then chucked Patterson across the parking lot into a Subaru's windshield. Patterson's head rammed through it with a dull thud and as his body fell limp against the car hood, a new whimper sounded.

Hun twisted to find a second soldier, this one far more jittery than the last. The curly-haired man sniffled when the gangster lifted him off the asphalt and flinched before he met the man's beady eyes.

"Will you be more forthcoming, Agent…Murphy?"

"We—we-we're just grunts, man," Murphy replied in a squeaky voice. "Errand boys."

"But you have ears, right? You should know things, like the location of this supposed island?"

The soldier scrunched his bulbous nose. "M—m—maybe?"

"Yes"—Hun touched his forehead against Murphy's—"or no?"

It took all of a second for the soldier to give in. "I—it's a place concealed below Lower Bay, near Jersey. Bishop's takes special guests there, like that hybrid chick from last year and, yes, yo—your cyborgs. As well as some scientists he saved from Black Lotus."

Slowly, Hun formed a devious smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah! They've been Bishop's favorites for a while, and the Trackers they grew have come in handy. I mean, just earlier they returned with the girl who's been a thorn in our side since Italy. That made the boss' day."

"What girl?" Michelangelo wasn't aware his voice could lower so far, but it left him in a dark snarl.

Murphy glanced away from Hun's grasp then froze—perhaps stricken by the sneer the mutant had no control over. "The, uh, heroine. I think the Black Lotus guys wanna use her for experimentation, her and that traitor Rizzo."

"He ain't talkin' about…"

"Sophia," Mikey finished.

"Mike—"

"No"—Michelangelo met his brother's helmet with a frown—"I can't."

Nightwatcher groaned. He understood the dread sinking into his younger brother's gut, though. It'd been the same kind that wanted to keep the hothead at Oswald, so he stayed quiet until Hun chuckled.

"Lead the way, little man," the gangster told Murphy.

The EPF soldier gulped, wordless, as Hun tucked him under his arm like a football. Hun then spun and sent his opponents a dismissive glare before barreling towards the dilapidated chain link gate.

Mikey instantly rose to follow him, yet was stopped by a harsh grip on his hand. "Let go!"

"Ya're injured, Idiot," Nightwatcher countered. "Let's get Hugh first then—"

"There's no time! Hugh's capture was public. Bishop needs to play it safe with him. But Sophia? She's someone who's been on his bad list way longer than Hugh. And if scientists from Black Lotus want her?"

Mikey shook his head, his throat tight. "Hun has a direct lead. Right now. If I don't follow them, it could take days to pinpoint The Island."

"Who's ta say he'll even get in?"

"That's the beauty of it. Whatever Hun does, it'll cover my tracks."

"Ya'll be alone."

"Raph, Sophia needs me. I…I"—Michelangelo's voice fell to a whisper—"I can't let Bishop take her away like Christina…"

The deceased woman's name always softened Raphael, and in his new relaxed state, his grip loosed from Mikey's shoulder. It was a relief that gave the younger mutant strength to step back. He studied Raph's tinted visor then flashed a weak grin through the morning's early rays.

Even their resident hothead knew it; to get through the day, each brother needed to be a leader. They weren't under Leonardo's guidance, but they were still heroes. And knowing that left Michelangelo confident enough to head for the gate.

'Sorry, Hugh; I have to do this. Raph and Sven are coming for ya. Hold on until then...'

He was going to be a father. Him—Hugh Reese—was going to have a son.

Never before had the detective needed to process something so mindboggling. Hell, even the Hamatos existence had been easier to accept. Least they weren't someone he needed to raise until adulthood. Someone who would look towards him for emotional and moral support. Someone whose life would rest entirely in his hands.

Or already rested in them, thanks to Bishop.

'Almost seventeen weeks. Rina's already in her second trimester and I didn't even…'

Notice.

Granted Marina wasn't the slimmest woman alive, Hugh should've known better than to assume her weight gain over the year was from stress. Had he really attributed it to that and let it slide? How much bigger of a douche bag could he be?

'I've been clueless, absolutely clueless. But I bet Jen knows…maybe even Blaine.'

Hugh's heart ached when he thought about his wife turning to their friends instead of him. He knew why she would, though. Jen was the mother of two kids, while the detective panicked at the idea of having his own.

'It's one thing to be an uncle; it's another to be solely responsible for a life. I—I—I don't know one thing about being a good dad. It's not like mine stuck with Mom before she died. We had Ebon, sure. But his ornery ass wouldn't let us forget we weren't his.

'Even Taylor hates me. Like Mia did. And like Rina does. I just…can't keep family. My son will probably grow up to hate me too...'

That thought above all scared Hugh beyond reason.

"Johnny, you idiot!"

Hugh flinched at a garbled voice from afar, and, ignoring his headache and the lingering bile scent on his shirt, opened his good eye to squint through the lights surrounding him. Was it the pain, or did the white cell glow with their ferocity? It seemed unusual.

"If you tell that steroid-loving brute anything, do you know what Bishop will do? I can't always cover your—" The agent speaking cut himself short, wide-set eyes zoned in on Hugh's prison chair. "Shut up, John. Keep this line secret. My charge just woke up."

"Evens, right?" Hugh asked through chapped, puffy lips. "Haven't seen you since…since I got here."

"There's been no need," Evens replied, stepping forward.

The detective watched the soldier as he shouldered a slender plasma rifle—the standard load for any EPF goon ready for war. "Now there is? Why's that?"

"We're moving you."

"A new torture chamber won't change anything; I'm not betraying anyone."

Evens scoffed while rummaging through his uniform's many pockets. "Told Bishop he should'a tried the Truth Serum on you."

"So there is such a thing."

"Side effects include degenerated cartilage that snaps your bones and liver failure, but sort've. Sometimes we get an answer before our hostages kick the bucket."

Hugh stared blankly at the agent, wanting to gulp yet unable to since his mouth was so dry. "That sounds like a horrible death."

"Nearly instantaneous, too. It's a gamble, so Bishop keeps it on the back burner. Besides, he prefers his more elaborate methods."

"Sociopath," Hugh muttered. He clicked his tongue then hissed when it stung. "So what about that call you were just on? Sounds like someone's in trouble."

"Mention anything about it, and you'll be." Evens' threat sounded surprisingly genuine, which left the detective with a pit in his gut.

"You mean I'm not already?"

"Bishop wants you alive until he gets answers. Still, I can't be blamed if you take a plasma blast to the head. It's a mess outside."

"And this mess warrants my move?"

"There the damn thing is," Evens grumbled.

He disregarded Hugh and stopped the search through his pockets after finding a strange looking key. Its cube-like end was custom, for sure, and looked like it would fit the slots alongside the shackles that encased Hugh's limbs. Then again, it also looked like it would fit the sleek handcuffs Evens produced from behind him.

"Where'd you get those, Sci-Fi Discount Dot Com?" Hugh asked with a smirk.

"Think they're a prop?" Evens countered. They were a single piece, like handcuffs from the Old West; however, they had a thicker build. The bands were about two inches wide without any break and the foam lining them looked suspiciously comfortable. "Wondering how they adjust?"

The agent pushed his hand through one cuff, which then inflated until the foam encircled his wrist. He didn't leave it long before using the key on its center piece and blew a little sigh as he straightened.

"You can't slip out of them either," he added.

Hugh's smirk grew. "Seems like it would be easy."

"As easy as leaving this cell."

"Through that cracked door?"

"Try it, Smartass; I dare you."

Hugh didn't respond when Evens flashed his own smirk. Maybe the agent thought it intimidated him, so he let the matter slide while Evans began unlocking his first shackle with the same key. 'Best he doesn't suspect anything. I have to wait for the perfect chance before I can—oh, shit!'

Hissing, Hugh fought for his hand back to no avail. Sharp pins broke his skin where the foam made contact with his sprained wrist, and he cursed again when he realized Evens would be re-shackling his limbs one at a time. 'I hate smartly trained goons. Guess I gotta do this the hard way.'

"Hey, what's that?" Hugh craned his neck to glance behind Evens, towards the door. A classic trick, but his wide eye only earned him a flat look from Evens.

"Seriously?"

Hugh countered with a grin. Then, he put his cuff to good use.

Using it like a club, he swiped it across Evens stretched face and snatched the key from his loose grasp. This he dropped down his prison shirt for safe keeping before taking a blow to the nose. Thankfully, Bishop's torture left Hugh mostly numb, so the detective could retaliate with a head-butt.

It met its mark square on, disorienting Evens while Hugh pulled the plasma rifle's strap.

"Stop; you'll get us both killed!" Evens snarled.

Hugh grunted in return and struggled to pull the strap sideways with his free hand. Despite Evans' resistance against his neck and grip, the rifle started to shift. In a swift instant, it slipped off the agent's shoulder then discharged when he fumbled to catch it.

Hugh heard a short, high-pitched beep first. Then the burning in his hip started.

"Serves you right," noted Evens, smiling through the blood dripping from his large nostrils.

Whatever. Straight-faced, Hugh scoffed and lifted his arm again—this time to punch Evens right in the throat. As the agent reeled, Hugh's fingers found the rifle's barrel to hit it upwards. It discharged twice—scarring the ceiling and damaging a light—then again when Hugh stole it from Evens completely.

"There's a war outside, Reese." Evens heaved, hand gripping his red-soaked shoulder. His jaw quivered from pain, but that didn't stop Hugh from aiming the riffle at the agent's wound.

"Then I'll fight through it," Hugh said, low. "Bishop's threatened everything I love. I can't protect them from here."

"Y—you'll be a fugitive. Hunted. Hated."

"So be it."

"And Bishop will be at the lead. He has issues when it comes to"—Evens flinched—"letting things go."

"I'll do whatever it takes to get my family back. So long as I'm with them," Hugh paused to lick his puffed lip, souring at its metallic taste, "that's all that matters."

Another high-pitched beep sounded. The plasma rifle's slight backlash dug into Hugh's shoulder, but otherwise remained steady as the shocked Evens dropped to his knees. Lowering the barrel, Hugh waited until Evens fell forward before digging into his shirt for the key.

'A cauterized shot like that won't kill him. I hope.'

The last thing he needed on his long list of supposed offences was murder. Self defense had no chance of covering his ass since cameras were located in every corner of the cell. He could only pray he'd find some means to contact Donatello so they could erase those feeds like the ones at the Manhattan's Property Office.

'For now, I just need to get out of this damn chair.'

Releasing the metal restraints took little time; they clicked open with a single turn from the cube key and released their captive onto his wobbly legs. Hugh sought support from the chair's arm and placed a hand against the burn on his hip. He noted the hole in his shirt, its orange edges blackened, although the shot had only skimmed his skin.

'Thank God. Now, to find a phone.'

So, forgetting the sting, Hugh looked towards the cracked circular door that led to freedom then stepped forward. His heartbeat left him lightheaded as he neared the light. However, its quickening pace was more than a tell of his apprehension.

It was an omen followed by a tingle then a paralyzing shock like a Taser. The hot electricity filled Hugh's muscles with convulsions, which forced his body onto the cell floor. There he lay powerless against his shakes as the barbs in his cuff's foam sunk deeper into his wrist.