A/N: Ride isn't over yet... LOL, Sciencegal. WOLF, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. Too bad he doesn't know the others are coming for him.

XP

Chapter 44: War Zone (Part 1)

So, Michelangelo left. Sven went MIA. And Hugh was still stuck inside the Earth Protection Force's public headquarters.

As of yet, this rescue mission had been a bust.

'I can't leave, though,' Raphael thought, cleaning the visor of his Nightwatcher helmet. Despite his good wipe, blood from a downed Purple Dragon remained and instead smeared further across the tinted shield. 'Stupid secret entrance got me through security, but now I'm wanderin' blindly. Hard ta believe these scum bags made it so far down. Why didn't they leave wit' Hun anyway?'

Not that it had been too long since the giant withdrew, but it still seemed odd.

'Guess it don't matter. They're here 'n I gotta take 'em down if I'm ever gunna—'

A sudden vibration stopped the hero short of rounding a hallway corner. He stepped back to produce his Shell Cell from his leather jacket then flipped it open, mindful of his surroundings as he plugged the device into his helmet's Bluetooth system and answered,

"Tell me ya got good news, Don."

"I do," Donatello answered. It was a soft, distressed sound and Raph straightened himself against the wall behind him.

"Then why do ya sound like Mikey set yer lab on fire? I—is Nia—"

Don sighed. "They're fine, Raph. They're both fine."

"Just fine?"

"They're alive. Okay?"

"Geez." The hothead furrowed his sweaty brow at the genius' snap then rubbed his sore chest. "Dun't gotta bite my head off, Dude. I…I've been worried."

"I know." Donny sighed again, only with less aggravation and more sorrow. "Sorry. Nia's stable, so is Sensei. She did it, Raph."

Good; that was a relief. However, Raph had no voice to let his brother know as much, just the strength to nod.

"They're back at April's apartment with Kaiya."

"So Blaine reached ya already."

"A little bit ago. He, Damien, and I are heading your way now."

"About time. I could use the support. Mikey—"

"Blaine told me."

Raph was powerless against his scoff, regardless of the youngest's justification. "Little idiot wouldn't wait."

"We'll go after him once everything here is settled."

"All we gotta do is break Hugh out. If ya could get here soon, that'd help. I feel paranoid enough wit'out the feeds bein' online an' Sven left me hangin'. Got no idea where he went."

There was a long pause over the phone.

"Don? Ya hear me?"

"I—I'm almost there. I'll help get Hugh and destroy the feeds. But…"

Raphael frowned when another pause reigned until Donatello finished,

"That won't be your only issue."

"What do ya mean?" the hothead questioned while rolling his eyes.

"Sven left because he and Mel…"

"They what?"

Donny either sighed or sobbed; Raph couldn't tell which. Either way, his low voice cracked. "Blaine told you about the bus, so…you know what happened with Tabitha, right?"

'Could'a gone wit'out rememberin' that,' thought Raph, squeezing the Shell Cell. He didn't know her well, but he had started to. And realizing he'd never get the chance felt like a loss.

"Y—Yeah, Don," he answered, throat tight. "I found out right before Sven disappeared."

"Well…Mel found out, too. Confirmed it through him. They're looking for Hunt."

"How bad's the damage?"

"Bad. LH went after her. She's…she's—"

"Berserk?"

"Raph!"

Had his helmet not been on, Raphael would've rubbed his face. Given the time and place, though, he would rather keep as much armor on as possible. "Sorry, Don," he whispered. "Yer wife's extreme. Worse than me. Are ya gunna say I'm wrong?"

"No," Don conceded. "I can't. It hurts, though. She's in pain and the only way she can think to ease it is…"

"What's the time?"

"Little after seven."

"Has she made the mornin' news yet?"

"They're mostly preoccupied with the crash and gang wars. But at this rate both she and LH will, soon."

"If they find Hunt, there won't be a doubt."

"That's why Hugh's situation will be that much more difficult." Donny drew in a sharp breath that cut though his older brother. "Hun and Barrett are on their way, with a small army in tow. They'll reach you before I do."

Donna Sloan forced Noah's head behind their half wall barrier when a plasma rifle's shot missed its target. She wanted, with all her might, to give the EPF soldier responsible a ferocious glare, yet was much too busy avoiding shards when the glass wall beside her shattered into glistening specs. A few strays sliced her bare forearms, which she used to shield her head. On the bright side, she could still see.

"I swear those idiots are trying to take us out too," the blonde spat. She dared peer over the half wall perforated with bullets, only to duck again when new gun fire reigned overhead.

"There's only two left," Noah added. Cuts of all sizes marred his tanned, chiseled features. Donna felt a little guilty, given that over half were sustained from protecting her while they crossed the cafeteria; however, guilt was a poor motivator in a gun fight.

"Yup; filler guys numero uno and dos. They're horrible help, if you ask me."

"What I don't get is why these punks are lingering."

"They have us boxed in, even." Donna glanced around the enclosed wing she, Noah, and Kyle had taken refuge in a while ago. It looked nothing short of a tornado disaster—complete with casualties from both sides and discarded meals from trainees who'd been eating at the time the Purple Dragon's first struck. "Just around the corner is the entrance wing that leads outside. Why not take that?"

"I did my part," said a hushed voice. "He wouldn't dare…"

"Kyle?" Donna narrowed her gaze at the greasy brunette on Noah's other side. Was it just her, or did he look particularly unkempt today?

"What?" Kyle snapped.

"You're mumbling suspiciously. Got something to say?"

"Other than what a pain in the ass PDs are?" At last Kyle's gaze landed on the blonde, although its heated stare surpassed mere annoyance.

Whatever anger he felt, it was personal, and Donna glanced over the barrier to note similar scowls from the fifteen gangsters, whose machine guns blocked their only way out. That is, save for a two-story drop for the waterfall feature beyond the broken glass wall. However, the group wasn't that desperate. Yet.

"Mister Erlich," one gangster started with a snort, "Hun knows."

Well, that didn't sound like good news, even if Donna had no idea what he meant. Eyebrow quirked and pistol prepared, the female officer sent Kyle a questioning look. He scowled in return, eyes wide and wild. He hit his head on the damaged half-wall, yet remained silent.

"You should've been more thorough," a second gangster added—teased, really.

"Hun's wasted both time and resources here. And you know who he blames?"

"I have no idea what you fools are talking about," shouted Kyle.

His denial earned the trio a hail of thick gunfire that pierced through the wall several times. None of shells did more than scrape Donna; but it had been too close for comfort and she paled at the cries from the remaining EPF trainees. 'Two more bite the dust. Kyle must be hiding something. If he isn't, these PDs sure are convinced he is.'

"T—try reasoning, Kyle," Donna whispered over Noah's chest.

"What?"

"Our cover is almost obliterated. They got better guns, more people, and seem to think you're involved with…something. Unless"—she squinted—"you are."

"My business is just that, Sloan."

"Hey"—Noah pushed Kyle's pistol back, matching the second man's glare—"stop it. We're on the same team, right?"

Kyle hesitated before answering. "Yeah."

Was it wrong of the blonde to disbelieve his reply? He sort'a smirked. Not to mention a glint in his pale eyes soured her stomach as he glanced around the half wall.

After a steady breath, he leaned sideways then poised his handgun at the targets. Fifteen short shots rang out, muffled by retaliating rounds that left Donna's ears ringing. She covered her head and could only pray the man shielding her wasn't hurt worse than before once both parties paused to reload.

"That doesn't seem like reasoning, Kyle!" Donna cried, wiping warm blood from Noah's shoulder. The Grecian hissed, yet kept his chin up—probably all for her sake.

"I told you, I'm innocent," Kyle countered.

"Doesn't matter. You know we're trained for—"

"Boss knows how to deal with rats like you, Nikt." Gangster One from before spoke again, except in winded spurts that likely signified he had been wounded. "Everyone keeps letting him down recently, and he's just not in the mood to let you live."

"Wh—what's all this about a 'Nikt'? What is he talking about?"

"Nothing!" Kyle shoved Donna away with his pistol's butt, which forced her palm to land in one of the numerous glass piles from the shattered wall.

"What are you doing, Bastard?" asked Noah with a deep growl. He fought against his nature to retaliate, but only because Donna gripped his bulging bicep.

"I'm the best marksman here," added Kyle, stoic while he changed his gun's magazine. "Donna, you're the fastest. Noah, you're the strongest."

"So?" Noah and Donna asked in unison.

Kyle climbed over the duo until he reached the crux where the half wall met the main one, just before the open space that had once been a glass barrier. He posed his weapon then lifted his eyes from the ground. "You can distract them while I take them out."

"Are you crazy?" the duo screamed.

"We did everything for you, Nikt." Gangster Two's continuation caused Kyle to snarl. "Stole. Planted clues. Got him arrested. And the one little bit of information he needed, you screwed up."

"I had every chance to believe they were here!"

Donna felt her face fall, like all spirit from her muscles had suddenly vanished, and she stared at Kyle's profile against the morning sun streaming into the cafeteria. "He…he's talking about Hugh, isn't he?" she whispered. "Are you saying…Hugh was taken because of you?"

Donna made eye contact with Kyle for all of a second before the ex-detective snap-kicked her into the war zone. Its breath-stealing force caused her to trip over a fallen comrade, so she landed on her ass between him and a dead gangster. Rather than be concerned over flying bullets from either the PDs or Kyle, she found herself tingling from a thundering pulse. It sent tremors through the trashed cafeteria. Even when she stood again, it shook her legs.

Like she didn't have enough to focus on.

'Earthquake or not, I should find cover before—wait, am I not being shot at?'

Brows furrowed, Donna tore her attention away from the Nelson hold Noah had on Kyle then glanced ahead to see the reason for the gangsters' cease fire. Turns out, few remained standing. They slowly backpedaled, especially those on the floor, and Donna dreaded what could possibly leave such hardcore criminals mute.

"This isn't happening."

"Shut up, Kyle," Noah hissed.

A grunt sounded as Donna glossed over the duo, but she ignored Kyle's counter remark in favor of turning around. Yards away, a bald, cybernetic man studied her—his impassive expression as disconcerting as the aliens from the movie Virus. Where he had come from, she had no idea. But the EPF logo across his soiled, one-piece uniform left little room for relief.

"I—is that Hunt?" Gangster Two asked.

The cyborg focused on the PD immediately then wasted no time transforming his right arm into a sleek cannon.

"Wait, there are still cops here!" Donna interjected.

Unfortunately, 'Hunt' seemed unconcerned.

He stepped forward once, and Donna whirled—not because she feared Kyle would be shot, but because the impact tremors increased. Bu, bum. Bu, bum. Like a distressed heart, they sped up. The blonde glanced around, noticing the others looked just as confused.

Their brief silence lasted a moment as the tremors paused. Then, the cafeteria's left wall burst into a spray of drywall, wires, and insulation as if a rocket had just pierced it.

The projectile wasn't a rocket, though. It was a female figure—one whose feet broke up the tile floor into chunky pieces. Lithe and dressed in a sleeveless combat suit, she lifted her face from a terrible stumble, and Donna gaped at the molded metal that covered its right half.

Another cyborg. Except this one oozed rage from her deep scowl to her red and blue glare that landed on Hunt.

"You," she breathed—a hoarse, hostile action.

It was all she said before sprinting. Her long legs carried her in a straight line. Only then did Donna realize the tremors stemmed from the female cyborg's heavy footfalls. So Donna backed up as the woman's metallic fists tossed aside gangsters in droves—her goal was obviously set on Hunt—until something stopped the officer. A gun shot.

It boomed behind her before a familiar body fell against her back. Noah's sudden weight pushed her into the second cyborg's path at a horrible time, just when her metal arm swung sideways.

It hit Donna's stomach so hard, she was sent sailing backwards, towards the glass wall's metal frame. Spinning shapes filled her vision when she met Noah's chest again. Except this time, a burning sensation erupted throughout her abdomen. The pain bit like fire and overcame her—even when she felt herself slip then fall a long ways to somewhere dark and cold.