Chapter 4: Crossed Lines

The motorcycle was concealed within easy reach, leaning against a pile of scrap metal, invisible in the dark unless you knew it was there. The gates of the junkyard were in sight, the leather-clad rider hidden from view. The figures in black arrived, silently, out of the night.

They wore spandex masks stretched across the face, eyes protected by a thin mesh that bulged out and gave them an insect-like appearance. Armored pieces protected vulnerable soft tissue. Military surplus boots. A red bandana tied around the forehead.

Soldiers of the Foot Clan.

Two of them darted across the road from the junkyard gates and into the back of the parked van. Off for some more looting, no doubt – it looked like the Foot were building their empire up again, the same way as before. The rider's heart was racing. There was a decision to make right now.

Decision made.

Stepping out of hiding, the rider began climbing a pile of junk. This was further than they were used to venturing from the bike on these expeditions, but the risk was judged worth it. Upon reaching the top, the reward was a view past the fence that surrounded the junkyard and the sight of several more Foot ninja. Patrolling, repairing, training. A few of them were up on the roof of the large workshop hut at the back of the yard, fixing some damage.

The Foot had abandoned this base weeks ago in the chaos that had followed the Shredder's death. Why had they returned? Had something renewed their confidence? The rider ducked down when it looked like one of the ninja on the roof of the workshop was looking this way, and decided to go and ponder these questions in greater safety.

Master Splinter was not used to telephones. Here he was, however, waiting to be connected. His demeanor was, for him, unusually nervous.

"Haaai!" He slammed the receiver down in temper. Again, this was highly unusual behavior for Splinter. Much as he disliked these "answering machines", he had been expecting to be connected with one and hoped at least to have a chance to leave his message.

"Where are you, my sons...?" he pondered. He thought for a moment, and glanced again at the phone.

Time was difficult to gauge down here, but Splinter knew it was early, far too early, so he had some time to consider the options before having to commit himself to this course of action. His fallback plan. He felt, however, there was little choice.

The sun was rising, and the shaft of light that entered the apartment through the slightly open window was a warm yellow. Must be about seven, thought April sleepily as she came quietly down the stairs in her nightgown. Early, but a little late for a burglar.

Tightening her grip on the cricket bat she held as a makeshift weapon, she took a look around. There it was again. Scrabbling.

There was a flash of movement in her peripheral vision, and the keys she had left on the table went clattering to the floor. Then something darted across the room. That's one big cockroach, or... Moving forward, bat at the ready, April came face to face with the intruder...

The rat held eye contact for barely a second, and scampered up onto the breakfast bar, jumped and was through the gap in the window and away.

The open window. The one she had definitely closed. April rushed over and looked out. Just the usual view, down onto the street. She slid the window closed and locked it again, and pushed hair out of her face.

Rats can open windows now…? What's going on here...? The phone rang, distracting her. She went over to the cordless handset and picked it up.

"Hi... Oh, hi... That's a co-incidence... No, never mind. It's just... unexpected. How are you...? OK. They're still not back…? You have...? Oh. OK." April held the phone against her ear with one shoulder as she fastened her wristwatch. The time showed two minutes past seven.

"Uh huh... Uh huh... OK, fine. That'd be fine... No, I got time, I don't need to be there early, not today... No, it's fine. Thanks for calling. See you soon... 'Bye."

Laying the phone down again with great care, she sat down, looking worried. "Something is definitely wrong..."

Splinter sat in the abandoned subway car the Turtles had turned into a sitting area, fretting. He did not like involving April in this situation. It troubled him that the young woman had already been exposed to danger by her association with himself and his sons, and might be again, but he could see no other option.

So lost in his thoughts was he, he didn't perceive that he was no longer alone in the lair. This particular rat was being watched... by another rat.

The bandaged man concentrated, his eyes closed. He sat on a chair made of cannibalized junk in the middle of a space just as vast as the Turtles' lair, but totally lacking its warmth and homespun comfort. Actually, the chair was more of a throne, and it was surrounded by an oddly shifting mat that on closer inspection would prove to be a seething mass of rats, all vying for position to be close to their master.

His eyes snapped open, and stared into the distance. "No. Keep watch for now. The time is not quite right."

Habit made April wear her usual heeled shoes for work, forgetting about the unusual access problems her detour presented. It had been a while. Still, she reflected, descending the ladder to the disused subway station with some difficulty – at least most of the time it was possible to visit the Turtles' new home without having to wear waders. A decided improvement on their old one.

"Hi...!" Her voice echoed around the walls and high ceiling. No reply. She looked round sadly. This place just wasn't right without the Turtles, and seeing their stuff scattered round just brought home how much she'd missed them over the past few weeks.

Noticing a pizza box lying abandoned on a nearby surface she curiously raised the cardboard lid - and stepped back hurriedly, with a sharp cry of alarm.

Approaching it again, April raised the lid more cautiously. "Hi. Or maybe that should be "greetings". What's the correct procedure for opening diplomatic relations with a new life-form...? No? Me neither." She laughed. "You're lucky. Pizza doesn't normally last long enough in this place to cool down, let alone grow a brand-new life form."

She wandered round the Turtles' home wistfully, pausing at Donatello's work bench and picking up the soldering iron for a moment, before turning back to the pizza box. "Hey, listen, maybe I should send you over to Professor Perry. I bet he'd love to have a look at you..." Noticing something, April cleared some debris to get a good look, and her expression changed to one of mild outrage. "CK…"

She wiped with her sleeve at the congealed tomato sauce stains on the audiocassette case. "This is mine! I knew one of those guys had this…!" She scraped with her thumb nail at a particularly stubborn stain that had formed over one of Chaka's eyes... Suddenly aware she was no longer alone, April broke off, looking up. Splinter was watching from the window of the subway car.

"I miss them too," he said.

"The Turtles' training is almost complete. What they are doing now is a vital stage in that training, the last they may ever get from me, and yet the very stage that requires my absence..."

"So they needed to be cut off from everything familiar? A kind of... walkabout?" In the subway car, even as she carefully handed the cup of steaming tea to Splinter, April's eyes never left the elderly rat's face. "I don't know... Could'a used a heads-up. I thought there was something wrong." She sipped her own tea.

"In time of crisis the bond between them must be at its strongest. For they easily forget, as you have seen. They need to be separated from all distractions and forced to rely on that bond."

"And I'm one of those distractions, huh…?" Eyebrows raised, April looked through her lashes at him, and Splinter's head tilted ever so slightly in acknowledgment. "But now something's gone wrong..." she added, a statement rather than a question.

"I trust I am correct the Turtles could survive without this city, and I thought... I thought it would do fine without them for a while." There was a change in Splinter's expression at that moment, as a haunted look took over. "Something is returning. I hear it sometimes, I feel it always."

April was uneasy. "What kind of thing? Is it the Foot…? 'Cause"-

-"The Foot are unimportant, at least for now. The threat I feel is something else. I cannot even name it, for naming it would lend it more power." He leaned forward. "You must trust me..."

"Hey, I do," said April, a little disturbed at how disturbed Splinter was. "We need the Turtles back here. I get that." She shrugged. "Have you tried calling again?"

"Still disconnected. Time is, I think, of great importance."

"Probably a fault. I'm sure Donny will have that phone working again soon."

"I cannot, I fear, take that chance."

April moved over to the sofa next to where Splinter sat, matching his cross-legged pose. "Splinter, your trust honors me," she said. "I'll go fetch them, of course I will. But how will I find them?"

Splinter seemed to consider this for a moment, and then said, simply and anticlimactically, "Here is the address." He handed over a scrap of paper from a notebook.

"Oh." April sat back, glancing at the scrawled writing. "OK." She smiled. "I thought you'd tell me to be at one with myself or something mystical like that."

A low rumble emanated from the ninja master and his ears flattened. "A most valuable skill, I'm sure, child. But one I think you may already possess." Child..? April thought... I'm twenty-six.

She hopped off the sofa and started pulling on her jacket. "Uh, I need to go back home and change..." she thought aloud. "An hour to get underway, if the traffic's OK maybe another hour to get there... Don't worry. I borrowed some wheels, so I'll have the guys back here before you know it." As Splinter looked at her feet as though he expected the wheels to be attached, she turned back, adding lightly, "Hey, maybe I'd make a good ninja. What do you think? You should teach me."

Laughing, she headed for the ladder to the surface, and was out of earshot when Splinter replied. "An excellent suggestion," he said quietly.

April had almost reached the foot of the ladder when she remembered something, stopped and looked back. "OK if I use the phone? I'll be quick..." Without waiting for a reply, she went over to the phone and dialed a familiar number. "Hi... Pete... Yeah, it's me. Hey, you sound perky this morning... Yeah, I figured you might do that. Listen, is Irma in yet...? Yeah, that's right... My, uh, assistant."

"Miss O'Neil, hi..." In a quiet corner of the Channel Three newsroom, Irma felt a twinge of guilt at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone, and hoped that guilt wasn't somehow audible. "OK, April." She listened for a few seconds. "No, not at all. I understand, really. No, that's fine. I've got plenty to do in the meantime. No, I'll see you later. Yeah. 'Bye." She put the phone down, and thought for a moment.

Picking up the receiver, notepad and pen ready, she dialed a short sequence of numbers and listened carefully.

The two voices were back on the line. - "OK... I think this might be it... She's gonna lead us to them..."

- "You certain...?"

- "No, 'course not. I just got a feeling... So, do you want us to follow, or bring her in now…?"

The approaching motorcycle had to make its way round a long detour as it neared the disused factory complex. This meant they heard it long before it got there, and a while before it became visible. They had plenty of time to get ready, weapons in hand, and even had time to think about their response, if any, to the new arrival.

A luxury for a ninja.

"Hey, guy... Can we help 'ya?!" Raphael called.

Crouched behind a low wall surrounding the empty parking lot, Donatello and Michelangelo were stifling giggles. Leonardo, arms folded, shook his head disapprovingly. "Great, Raph. Well done. Now what?"

"Hey, we didn't order any pizza!" Michelangelo grinned.

"And that is not something I ever thought I'd hear you say, Mikey," said Leonardo.

"Yeah... I wonder if it means something."

"Probably just a phase," offered Donatello. "You are an adolescent."

"I'm an adowhatolescent?" Michelangelo replied. "Well, you're a... dorkolescent." Donatello looked at him for a moment, and then with only a slight movement slapped him on the arm with his staff. "Ow!"

Raphael rolled over the wall in an elegant motion, stood up and strode toward the approaching motorcycle as the rider slowed and drew to a halt. "Raph! Will you get back here!?" called Leo, stepping out into the open. Why not? Secrecy was blown now anyway. He racked his brains for a cover story - Mascots...? Nah.

"Relax, Leo! Nobody's gonna believe this guy." Raphael gestured toward the bike as the engine noise cut out. "I'm curious, that's all."

Grinning, Michelangelo stuck his head over the wall and rested it on his clasped hands. "What's the matter, ain't you ever seen four giant Turtles practicing martial arts before?" he asked, cocking his head.

"Hardly, Mikey," Donatello replied. "Four is very unusual. Three or five is so much more common."

As he waved a greeting, booted feet touched the ground. The rider got off the bike nimbly, smaller and slighter than they were expecting, and stood with arms folded and head cocked slightly... Was this amusement? Not shock, not disbelief, certainly not fear. The rider found them funny?

They considered the new arrival...

Unarmed, so no immediate threat. Black leather jacket, zipped up with the collar upturned... Black leather jeans, almost mirrorlike in their oily shininess, clinging tightly to slender but toned legs... The hands now unfastening the protective helmet wore black leather gloves. This leather-clad rider really couldn't be any more leather-clad if they tried... and it seemed like they had!

"Guys..." Michelangelo said thoughtfully as he approached, peering closely, "I don't think this guy is actually, you know, a guy." Nodding as if to confirm his diagnosis, he grinned as the rider responded with a thumbs up. "Yo... not dude!" He matched the gesture.

"Wasn't that bike Casey's?" Leonardo wondered.

"Yeah," said April, removing the motorcycle helmet, her hair tucked under the collar of the leather jacket. "And it still would be if he'd gotten it back from the pawn shop instead 'a me." Big dark eyes shone with amusement as she prepared to enjoy their reaction.

"APRIL...?!" they all said as one, delighted. The leather-clad rider... was leather-clad April!

The reunion was being watched from some distance away. "Well? What can you see?"

"It's them. It's, uh, actually them."

"Finally."

"Should we get closer...?"

"Oh yeah... We're gonna be getting a lot closer."

Next: A celebrity goes incognito, a trap is prepared and everyone develops tunnel vision...