A/N: Hang in there, WOLF, it's almost over. LOL Meanwhile, Merry Christmas Eve!

:D

Chapter 45: The Island

No matter what the movies portrayed, hanging onto a helicopter undetected was the worst. It felt neither heroic nor epic. In fact, it was a pain in the ass, cold as hell, and Michelangelo feared his cape would be swept up in the propeller blades that carried him, Hun, Switchblade, and a pilot towards Bishop's so-called Island.

Yet despite his aching side and the dawning day, he did it. 'And Leo says I'm too loud for missions like this. Keep tellin' him I'm as good as any ninja we know—better, even…'

Wow, that taunt felt so hollow without the Jonin there to endure it

'Focus, Mikey,' the hero thought. 'A Stealth Watch can hide you from view, not from thermal detection. Let's be careful where we step.'

Especially since Bishop owned the Island. It was Earth Protection Force certified and surrounded by a bay on all sides. The man's signature Sci-Fi touch riddled every inch of blue and gray metal across it. Mikey could tell, even before Hun's helicopter perched on its top. What he couldn't decide is if it should be considered a sub or closed off cargo ship. Either way, its sleek, four-story high design could easily be mistaken as land mass from afar.

The uncertainty kept him on edge as he slipped off the helicopter's tail boom. He heard the engine power down while veering around the flying machine, his tinted vision set on Hun and Switchblade when they exited its cockpit.

"Little bland up here, isn't it?" Hun asked.

Yes, it was—consisting of just a security fence around the landing pad. Mikey joined the mammoth in surveying the open area, chilled by the sea breeze, except the sun kept him from too looking far.

"He said there would be a way down," added Switchblade.

"Hey!"

The trio turned. What had once been flat ground was now raised in the shape of a tower with open doors. Inside it, two EPF troops aimed their plasma weapons and took cautious steps forward.

"You aren't Murphy," one noted, glaring at Hun.

"Perceptive," Hun countered.

"Why'd you have his pass code?"

"Not your business. Switchblade."

The cyborg responded in a flash. His metal arms bent inwards, so the blades protruding from his elbows lengthened; and before the troops could pull their triggers, the arm-swords ran them through. It took perfect control for Mikey to withhold his disgust over the blood that dripped from Switchblade's arms—more so for the way the cyborg tossed the bodies overboard, like he were flicking away bugs off his plate.

'There was no need to kill them,' the mutant thought. 'They're just goons.'

But since when did Purple Dragon differentiate between pawns and lead enemies?

Sighing, Mike followed Hun and Switchblade into the raised opening. It turned into a narrow passageway, a ramp, that evened out after some time. At its end laid a round room with at least five different exits. Hun and Switchblade paused by the right-most passage, but then took a hard left, leaving Mikey to flail backwards to avoid being hit.

He kept a further distance behind them afterwards and produced both nunchaku from his utility belt, just in case the Stealth Watch failed.

"Here's the main directory he told us about, Boss."

"About time," Hun answered. In the midst of another round room, he bent down to read a mounted map. Mikey decreased his speed and when he rounded the gangsters' backsides, the mammoth growled. "This thing is a damn beehive. Where the hell is the deck?"

"Uh"—Switchblade's metal finger tapped the plastic that encased the map—"this one. Eight, Section A-Main. He said the Pods were kept on the same level as the Kennels. Those are towards D, the gene-splicing section. Or whatever the hell it's called."

"That's where Rojo's been…"

"Should we head that way? Mahoney said the heroine's there and—"

"Rojo's dead. He's beyond saving, from what I hear. Take"—the blonde squinted like an old man—"Bow Ramp 3?"

"So this is a ship after all."

"I don't care what it is, so long as Little Spice is here. Now move!"

Although Hun's boom jolted Switchblade, the cyborg listened, entering a passageway opposite of where Michelangelo crouched.

'Sounds like this is where we part ways. I need to go where these supposed Kennels are. Let's see.' Mikey approached the map then blanched.

It wasn't traditional in that it showed the ship as a side-view. Rather, it displayed a bird's eye perspective with different colors for ramps and rooms, connecting three decks at a time. A long look made it seem like a dizzying illusion of honeycomb patterns, which left the mutant wondering if Bishop had designed it to help or deter his lackeys in their travels.

'Where's Don when you need him?'

Busy, of course. And like hell the mutant would risk turning on his phone and texting a picture. Who knows what signal detection Bishop had installed?

'Least I'm free. For now. I vote we take the…yellow brick road, part B!'

According to the color code, the ramp led to the same deck as the Pods. Ergo, it should lead to the Kennels if he took the Stern Ramp. Right? That optimism propelled the mutant down the subtle decline until he reached another room—this one narrow like a Twinkie and lined with doors instead of passageways with labels stenciled over their arched openings.

'Is anything simple is this place?'

Mikey was so tempted to hit his head against the curved, metal walls. Several things stopped him through, one of them being reason and another being a voice. He whirled at it, silent as a door slid upwards by the Stern Ramp exit. Two men left a white-washed area within and when the barrier returned into place, Mikey noticed the universal symbol for a men's restroom at its center.

"Have to come all the way out here to take a piss," a man said. He ran his hand over his styled, black hair, rugged features flush under the LED lighting. "A whole two sections. I'm telling you now, Clarke; I'm tempted to relieve myself in jars."

"Disgusting, Sean," the older of the two noted. His wrinkled skin deepened when he scrunched his red nose and he adjusted his wire-frame glasses with a scoff. "Aside from that being unsanitary in a lab, you'd start a fight with my Bear-Hound Trackers."

"Scared I'll hurt them?"

Sean met Clarke, grinning. Something about his grim charm wasn't Kosher in Mikey's eyes, so he carefully watched the duo approach a door at one of the room's two shortest ends.

"You have your own pets now," Clarke countered while Sean laid a hand over a scanner. "Leave mine be. I'm already down one. Poor Dom…"

'Oh, so the freaky beasts that about gutted me are his pets? Why am I not surprised?'

"I've played with the boy more than the girl." Sean stepped back once the scanner confirmed his identity, and the mutant ground his teeth at how flippant he acted over Sophia and Marco. "They both have promise, but Bishop needs to get here soon—so I can really unleash their potential."

Clarke trailed his younger coworker through the door, Mikey not far behind. "You've already done more than what Bishop wanted. He said to prep then wait."

"It's been forever since we got live bodies. He should know better than to assume we'd sit idle."

"To assume you'd sit idle. I could've waited."

"Whatever." With a shrug, Sean sped up, his white boots guiding him around a gentle bend that seemed to stretch on forever. "He isn't fond of…what's her name? Moretti? If something goes wrong, it's not much loss. Although"—the man paused, so ignorant of the nunchaku Michelangelo longed to use that he laughed—"I hope it works. The wings would be so unique."

"Well," Clarke took the lead as he continued down the bend, "Rizzo didn't turn out as planned."

Wait; had Marco already been spliced? Did that mean…they started work on Sophia too? The shock almost froze Mikey, before a new determination crept through his veins. He no longer walked curiously behind the duo when they passed a second door. Instead, he stayed low and maintained a frown, promising both men would be hit upside the head before the day was over.

'Dude!' A sudden waft hit the hero's senses. He could identify its putrid scent easily, even if he'd rather not. But the further he traveled along the single path, the more assured he felt that the lumps lying behind the massive bars on his two sides were decaying. 'What do they use them for if the things are dead?'

He shouldn't have asked. Not a second later he glanced ahead as the chatting men hung a sharp left. He heard a long crunch before he saw the Bear-Hound in an open kennel ahead. Its bloodied teeth sunk into a carcass heaped atop another, ripping into its stringy muscle with a snarl. He gulped down the bite without much chewing, and Mikey soon realized the carcass had been another Bear-Hound.

'I swear I'm going to hurl.'

The mutant dared take a step forward, but he stopped when the Bear-Hound's long ears perked up. Its sniffing sounded deafening to Mikey and his heart skipped as the black beast rose on all fours, its thick neck rumbling with savage growls.

Various blood pools across the kennel had possibly covered his scent until that point. Now? If he wanted to pass, he'd have a fight on his hands.

After all, sight was only one sense animals relied on. And a Stealth Watch could only offer so much coverage...

.

"I swear, one day Mike's gunna give me an aneurysm," Donatello grumbled. He glossed over the GPS grid on his tablet and groaned, squinting at the sun glare that clouded the map.

"Still no signal?"

Don refused to grace Raphael with a look, instead focusing on how much he loathed being in the daylight—even at the mouth of a culvert below Battery Park. "All we know is that he was heading south-west near the Lower New York Bay, towards the Raritan area, a few hours ago."

"Why would he go that long wit' his phone on then just switch it off?"

"I'm sure it's been off ever since he started following Hun. He knows better than to let it distract him or give him away."

"An' that we'd fry his shell as soon as we could."

"Probably."

"So somethin' else is jammin' the signal? Could that be where Bishop's Island is?"

"Within the vicinity. But we'll have to look the old fashioned-way."

"What? There's no app around that?" Raphael sent a smirk through the culvert's long shadow, but Donny countered him a pointed look.

"Without the main frame's location, I can't do squat. Cloaking technology is a new field, and Bishop's work in it is far more advanced than mine."

"Ya cloaked the Battle Shell today. Now we're gunna take the Half Shell for its maiden voyage. I'm sure it'll do just as well."

"Don't call it the 'Half Shell'."

"Hey; for once, I agree wit' Mikey. The thing looks just like an inflatable shell, except—ya know—skinnier."

Don blanched. "Any and all similarities are purely coincidental. It's shaped that way to cut back resistance for a smoother, faster ride, and the elastic synthetic rubber—"

Raph held up his hands. "Dun't care about technicalities, Brainiac. It floats, it's got a twin motor, it's what's gunna get us Mike back. An' until ya come up wit' a better name, I'm callin' it the Half Shell."

All the Bō master could do was sigh. He rarely won arguments against Raphael and Michelangelo. Possibly because, unlike them, he knew when to relinquish a fight for a greater cause.

'We have enough trouble as is. Hopefully Blaine's right in having taken Hugh. Meanwhile, almost everyone else is at April's. Since they're sleeping, April should have time to…to start tracking Sven and Mel…'

"I'm sure she didn't run far."

Jerking up at Raph's gruff yet concerned tone, Don realized he had been zoning and so he flashed a weak smile. "I—I saw what she did at EPF headquarters. I—I—I don't want to blame her…but it was a lot of damage. A lot of people got hurt."

"Like Donna and Noah."

The genius nodded, heavy-hearted from the news Blaine had given.

"I'm wit' LH on this one," Raph added after a pause. He sounded almost tentative, which seemed odd. "It ain't Melody's fault. Sometimes…rage is too strong. If I had that power an' someone took ya, or Mike, or Leo from me? I wouldn't have acted any different, I won't lie…an' my brain hasn't been scrambled by some whack-job."

"No," Don let out a hollow laugh, "you do that yourself."

"Ya'll see her again, Donny. She needs ya, especially now."

"Thanks, Raph." The Bō master's whisper felt so grave, it weighed down his broad shoulders as his tablet beeped. "Our route's been cleared. Ready?"

Raphael met his brother with a smirk, cracking his bandaged knuckles. "Let's go sailin'. Bet Mike's beggin' for our help by now."

.

"Don't eat me! Don't eat me! Don't eat me!"

Michelangelo's cries echoed off the new room he had entered beyond the Kennels. They joined various howls, squawks, yelps, and grunts from the smaller kennel's lining the curved area; however, the hero had no time for concern over any other animals' distress. He was much too busy scrambling for cover from the massive Bear-Hound at his heels and slid around a table bolted to the slick floor.

As the beast's claws scraped its metal surface, Mikey's nimble moves shot him between the table's legs like a cannon ball. He rolled to his feet in seconds then glanced over his shoulder when he heard a harsh bang and a squeal. The Bear-Hound had hit a few kennels behind the table, denting them, but didn't pause long before charging again.

'Just one beasty this time and I can barely keep up.'

Then again, he was also injured, his Stealth Watch damaged. He'd have to brainstorm a creative way to defeat the creature if he had a chance of continuing his mission.

'Upsy Daisy!'

Mikey jumped towards the kennel wall, pushing off it with his leg just in time for the beast to swipe then crash into the metal bars. The Bear-Hound scrambled for traction as trapped animals protested, and once Mikey landed behind it, he ducked below its swaying tail.

'Not very graceful indoors, is it?'

With that in mind, the mutant darted towards the Kennel entrance. Thumping footfalls sounded from behind. He ignored them, though, to give the room a cursory glance. Three exits, one of which was closed off. Two bolted tables by the center-most wall of kennels. Everything else could move, so Mikey headed for the first rolling piece of furniture he could find: a clear, plastic dresser.

He surfed on it until he almost met a kennel wall. The thumps quickened as Mikey drove off. He sunk into the crack between the dresser and kennels, poising his legs against the furniture's plastic face. The top drawer whacked him in the forehead from the force, which sent several syringes towards the orange 'T' over his plastron. These, he almost shooed away before he read their labels.

'Oh, idea!'

The Bear-Hound caught himself on the dresser's back, startled by the mutant's sudden decision, while Mikey grabbed every syringe possible. They were already uncapped—a safety hazard, for sure—so he dug both hand-fulls into the creature's thick neck. They emptied their poisonous load in seconds, and Mikey straightened his legs with a loud cry when the Bear-Hound took a swat at him.

The beast skated across the room, stopped only by another dresser. It sunk off the furniture like a drunkard, its stoutly legs shaking, its stub snout drooping. It swayed then its snarls faded into whimpers as it lowered itself to the floor. They were agonizing cries for help, yet Mikey breathed a sigh of relief that the Pentobarbital worked as well on mutant animals as it did on pets.

"The hell?"

Relief, gone. Michelangelo faced Clarke and Sean. They stood in the once-closed doorway that resided between the two Kennel exists, still as Mikey readied his nunchaku.

"Who are you? What's?" The older, chubbier man gawked then turned his attention on the dead Bear-Hound. "X—Xavier?"

Mikey grimaced as Clarke ran to the beast, hesitating to touch it, as if it would crumble beneath the man's palms. "I'm all for unique pets, Dude. But that thing wasn't nice."

"Who the fuck are you?" Clarke removed a syringe from the beast's neck and scowled. "You euthanized him?"

"I had a choice to make," Mikey answered, venturing towards the man in white. "I chose me."

"You freak! Sean, close the—" Clarke swung an arm in the hero's direction, except Mikey was already behind him. Wordless, he whirled his nunchaku, rendering the man unconscious before he could give Sean any further instructions.

"Hold it!" Mikey wrapped his nunchaku's chain around Sean's wrist.

Pulling it away from the hand scanner, he twirled the slimmer man about then used the butts of his second nunchaku pair to hit Sean at his skull's base. He collapsed instantly, much easier than the last scientist the hero had fought.

'Still got no idea where Kingston learned his moves. If it was with the EPF, these guys sure weren't in the same program…'

"N…no, Figo?"

"Sophia!"

Albeit broken and soft, the blonde's voice had never sounded so sweet. Michelangelo vaulted over Sean's body, racing into the lab beyond. A strong antiseptic smell within made him scrunch his face, but he didn't slow down until he saw her.

She was dressed in nothing more than a tube bra and panties, strapped to a metal table that may've been the cause of her shivers. Mikey stopped beside her and quickly glossed her over. To look for injuries, of course—not to note the dense freckles across her thin, toned limbs or the tattooed star trail across her heart and collarbone. Those were just glaring.

"Non ci posso credere," she whispered. "Y—you're here? E—e—even after I…?"

Smiling, Mikey ran a hand down Sophia's flush cheek, surprised by its heat below her unruly hair. "Tempers don't deter me, Hoshi."

"But—"

"You can apologize later."

"Who says I need to apologize?"

The mutant flashed an impish smirk at the reclined blonde. "Should I leave then?"

"No"—Sophia spoke so fast she paused at her own voice—"I—I mean. Get me the hell out, Figo! You'll need my help."

"You sure you're in any shape to fight?" Mikey undid the straps across Sophia, and helped her sit up.

"S—sure I can," the blonde answered with a huff. She pushed him aside to stand, but her legs buckled before her first step.

Mikey caught her as she cursed in Italian and shook his head.

"Y—you aren't in top-shape either," Sophia spat. Odds were high she found the whole situation embarrassing. "What about your side?"

"Least I can walk. I just gotta ignore the pain."

"Likewise." Again, the blonde stepped forward, only to find herself back in Michelangelo's arms.

"Will you let someone be your hero for once?"

"Last guy who tried that—" The blonde stopped herself, licking her thin lips as she glanced sideways.

Mikey followed her line of sight to a tube of sorts. It looked like a glowing pill cut in half with a body hung inside—a man in stretchy shorts. White and brown striped feathers layered his head in a wild hairstyle, leaving his face free like a helmet. They covered his neck to his shoulders, where they grew scarcer around his pectorals and abs until they reached his hips. From then on, his legs were pure bird, ending as ash-gray talons that would be unable to fit on Mikey's shoulders.

"I—is that…?"

"Marco," Sophia finished. Her fingers gripped the hero's biceps as they approached the bird-man. "The assholes were supposed to wait for Bishop," she added along the way. "But he was…he was injured and the younger one was excited, so…Marco took a hit for me, when the Bear-Hounds came to my house. Seems like a theme lately."

"They took you from your house?"

"Hunted me. Guess they were supposed to bring back more than my necklace. I—it's my fault. I froze again, so Mum…Sh—she was crying, Figo. If she—if she's—"

"I'm sure she's fine, Hoshi. I never heard about anyone else being taken other than you and Rizzo. Now"—Michelangelo grinned, unfazed by the blonde's glare when he lowered her to the floor—"let me get this guy down."

"How do you plan to get us all out?"

Mikey shrugged then pushed every button along the pod until a hiss startled him. He jumped back as the thick restraint over Marco's chest clicked open and he caught the bird-man, grunting. A pain shot through his side under the weight. It was lighter than expected, but sudden enough that he fell to one knee.

"Figo?"

"Don't worry, Hoshi; I got it all under…con…trol?"

Aw, crap. Michelangelo's grin died when he resituated the bird-man. His eyes caught a grotesque figure starring from the doorway and it looked far from welcoming…