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Ch. 17-New Sheriff in Town

"Leonardo, where is Raphael?" Master Splinter asked his eldest son, who was currently stretched out on the couch reading one of his 'Space Heroes' comic books.

The turtle's dark blue eyes moved up to meet his father's slowly, before answering automatically: "Last I knew he was still in his room, said he didn't want to watch a movie with us."

"How long ago was this my son?"

"Hm?" Leo murmured, not really listening, his mind still buried in the comic.

"Leonardo!"

Leo's attention snapped up and stared at the old rat questioningly. "Yes Father?"

"I asked how long ago you had that conversation with your brother."

The eldest turtle's eyes widened in realization, then he thought for a moment before answering, "Well, I guess it would have been four or five hours ago now."

Splinter's eyes closed and he stroked his beard in troubled thought, making Leo raise an eye-ridge.

"What is it, Sensei? Is something wrong?"

"Yes indeed my son. The last I saw of your brother was four hours ago."

"And?" Leo asked, turning back to his comic. Raphael retreating to his room for hours on end was nothing new. It was just something the hothead did whenever he needed some time to clear his mind.

"He is not in his room. Nor is he in the Lair." That got the forest green turtle's attention. He shot to his feet and stared up into his Father's dark brown eyes concernedly. "I perceive he didn't inform you of his intent to leave either."

"No, Sensei. Raph didn't tell me anything. I really thought he was still in his room. I don't see how he could have slipped past me…"

Master Splinter smiled slightly at Leonardo's words and said with a chuckle, "My son, the days when you read your 'Space Heroes' comics are often the days you are most distracted."

Leo rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess so Sensei. Do you want me to search for Raph?"

The old rat stroked his beard before shaking his head. "I fear that would not be wise. Whatever Raphael has gone to do it is obviously something he felt he could not do with us present. We must be patient and wait."

The youthful ninja leader sighed, rubbing a hand over his head in frustration and worry. "If only Raphael knew how many nights I'd spent waiting for him to come home."

"He knows my son. And the fact that you have almost always done so is part of what makes him keep returning to us, Leonardo."

Leo stared up at him, still a bit skeptical of his Father's words. "I don't think Raph cares that much, Sensei. If anything I think he hates the idea of me being leader.

"No matter what it may sometimes seem like, Leonardo, Raphael is not interested in being the leader. He merely wants to be heard my son. He has concerns as well. It is your automatic dismissal of Raphael as rash and hotheaded that create this tension between you. More importantly, my son, you must never forget that while Raphael may be your rival, he was first your brother."

Leo's eyes widened. "I didn't know he talked to you about this kind of stuff."

"He does not." Master Splinter looked down at his eldest's confused countenance and explained, "Raphael doesn't have to talk for me to know how he is feeling, Leonardo. When I was his age, your brother and I were much the same, that factor alone makes it easier for me to know how he thinks."

Leo stared at his father as though he'd grown a second head. "You were like…Raphael?!"

"Yes, my son. I was hot-headed, foolish, always eager to prove myself, to gain the acceptance of others. Your brother is no different. Once you understand Raphael, my son, then and only then will you be able to reach out and balance him. Until then, the only option, as I said before, is to sit here and wait."

Dark blue eyes narrowed as Leonardo attempted to wrap his mind around the concept his father had presented him with. He had thought he'd had his little brother pegged, but it seemed as though there was still more he didn't know. Raphael was right.

We really don't understand, not until we finally comprehend his thinking pattern will we be able to understand. Though, I wonder if Raph knows that Sensei understands him. He must, otherwise he wouldn't let Master Splinter anywhere near him when he's crying. But of course father is the only one he'll allow near him when he's crying so…yeah. Well, looks like I'll be waiting for Raphael to come home…again. I just hope he isn't in over his head. If that idiot does anything stupid and gets himself hurt again, I swear I'm gonna shellac him.

It was an especially dark night in the Big Apple. The air was crisp and cool, the shadows of the buildings dark and foreboding.

The perfect night for a crime.

It had been two weeks and he still hadn't spoken with Midori, in fact Raphael found himself dreading it. So he avoided her altogether, and so far she hadn't even texted, called, or contacted him once. He decided it was wiser just to move on, and if Midori did still want to be friends, then he could consider it a pleasant surprise.

He had more urgent things on his mind.

Crime in the city had only gotten worse. His brothers were in over their heads. He still had a score to settle with the Foot Clan, his brothers were holding him back because they weren't willing to let him risk injury to achieve better results, and he wasn't about to break his promise to Midori either, friends or no, he'd made her a promise and he'd made her dead mother a promise and he was determined to keep them both.

No matter what.

So, after much thought and deliberation, the hothead saw only one course of action that could keep his brothers busy, let him go after the Foot, and still be able to get Jade to fight alongside him.

Raph smirked from his place by the Ducati. His hands were covered in grease and he had dark smudges scattered on his arms, face and head. Well…He'd spent almost all his spare time over the last two weeks fixing her up, but at least the baby was back in tip-top condition. Engine looked good, though the hothead had still had to run to the nearest auto-wrecking yard to find some replacement parts. So, maybe it wasn't perfect, but it was good enough. Raphael had put her through some hard tests, several trial runs and finally a couple fresh coats of paint before he'd deemed the bike officially 'ready for action.' Though he'd originally wanted to keep it red, Raph decided that, for what he was planning to use it for, it would be safer to have a less noticeable color, like black. So now, the Ducati was black with silver pin striping and one thin, but distinct red racing stripe along the side and the tail. Sure, it wasn't red, but it looked pretty damn good!

But that wasn't even the best part. Raphael had been working on it all this past week. Gathering parts, scraps, sewing…That's right. The most badass turtle in New York City had been sewing. Sewing what you may ask? Hehe…

Of course that also brings up the question: how did a mutant turtle who lives in a sewer even learn how to sew anyway? But that, my friends, is a story for another day.

Originally he had planned for a majority of the plating to be made of metal, but fortunately he'd been lucky enough to find some large scraps of a more durable, yet extremely hard leather-looking material that was much lighter and more flexible. While scrounging in a military junkyard he found a pile of trashed bullet-proof vests and he picked through them, choosing the ones that were the least worn out. The vests he didn't use for the main body armor that were too worn down or thinner than the others, Raphael put to good use as a base covering for the arms and legs. He put a zipper down the middle of the front part of the suit so he could get it on and off with ease. The worn out utility belt, another lucky find in the military junkyard, was easily patched up and attached the snapping latch one of the last things he added. Just for extra security. After he'd successfully attached all the base coverings, he sewed on a thin, but dense black fabric that looked almost like woven polyester, over the entire thing, just to ensure that no one would be able to see through to the turtle underneath. Finally, after that had been completely dealt with, which must have been at least two days later, the hothead was finally able to secure the elbow and shoulder pads. Of course for these he used the scraps of leathery material he had found earlier.

In end the turtle decided that he would need a little bit of metal armor after all and he had spent the last two days finding pieces of light, yet incredibly hearty reinforced aluminum alloy. He added thin upper arm guards, and a front guard that looked like a harness which attached to his shell where he had installed metal plating made to look like some kind of high-tech backpack, a deceptive tactic the ninja hoped would make people believe that he was wearing some kind of special gear on his back. Lastly, he managed to construct a kind of metal framed and toed boot that would attach to metal shin guards he had added yesterday.

Pleased with himself, Raphael leaned back from where he'd been sitting hunched over his project, and admired his handiwork. And they said Don was the creative one in the family. At the moment the hothead was holed up in an old abandoned warehouse near the upper bay of the Hudson. His brothers would never find him here. (Not that they would even dare to come looking.)

There was just one thing he still needed…

Raphael dropped down into the dark store, heading straight for the back wall. He glanced at all the helmets on display, immediately veering towards the larger ones. The turtle reached out to grab one that was painted bright red, but halfway there his hand stilled. Then his eyes moved over to a helmet on the shelf directly above it. Bright green eyes narrowed for a moment before he reached up and grabbed a modular silver helmet that had angular sides with ridges, and a dark black visor. He picked it up and put it on his head, then glanced around. Good visibility, nice color that wouldn't give away his identity, and a hard, non-polished surface. Raph rapidly moved over to the counter, leaving the payment for the helmet behind, before he returned the way he'd come, helmet in hand. When he got back to his hideout, Raph grinned when he realized the helmet was the same color as the metal he'd used on the suit. The grin melted off his face and he knew it was time.

The hotheaded turtle slipped into the suit with relative ease. He zipped it up, then fastened both the belt and the chest strap. He gazed at himself in a large, cracked mirror that had probably been left in the warehouse long ago. The turtle turned around and smirked. I look awesome! He thought, and then his eyes fell upon the battered red mask on his face. With one hand the turtle reached up and pulled it off slowly. He stared down at the old, worn-out piece of red fabric in his hands before he placed it safely in a storage compartment he'd added onto his bike. It was small, and wouldn't be able to hold anything larger than a pair of sunglasses, but for the mask, it would be just fine. He folded up the mask and placed in carefully, making sure it didn't get caught when he closed the compartment.

Raph put on the helmet, but left the bottom part folded up as he looked himself over in the mirror one last time. Finally, he pulled down the visor and snapped the chin piece back into the rest of it.

"Criminals better watch their backs cause there's a new sheriff in town. And his name is Nightwatcher."

So, for Raph's Nightwatcher outfit in this fic I made it a lot more simplistic because I'm kinda doing my own supposition that in this he's younger, so it's bound to be more crude, also he's making it himself so he wouldn't be able to make a total techno-suit looking thing like the one in the 2k7 movie. Please review! Tell me what you thought! I know this chapter is much shorter than some of the more recent ones, but I've got homework to do so...yeah guess I should get back to that...I would really like to know what you guys think! Thanks for reading!

P.S. Reviews are also serve as inspiration and motivation!