...

Royal flames will carve a path in chaos
Bringing daylight to the night
Death is riding into town with armor
They've come to take all your rights
-"Hail to the King," by Avenged Sevenfold

GAUNTLET

Raphael watched Murakami sway gently in the breeze, his face sour. Suspended from a rope he and Xever had secured on the roof, the old man was trussed up in a makeshift rope harness. Once Xever had wandered out of earshot, Raphael had tried to reassure Murakami, telling him not to squirm and that he'd be free soon enough, but abducting him at all felt shameful.

Xever paced close by, playing incessantly with his butterfly knives and pointedly ignoring Raphael's side-eye. While Raphael had not come out and said anything in opposition to Xever's plan, he also hadn't bothered to hide the fact that he hated everything about it. The roof of the fortune cookie factory was cluttered, home to an old-fashioned wood and steel water tower hidden behind a graffiti-tagged billboard, and seemed a generally poor choice of location for a large scale ambush. Speaking of which, almost half of their backup ninja were barely initiated Foot Clan newbies with something to prove. The odds still favored them heavily, but the situation was not as optimal as it could be. Raphael liked Xever well enough, but he was glad that he wouldn't be taking orders from him after this was over.

When Raphael sensed the turtles approaching, he took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and focused only on the purpose of this mission. He would not succumb to another episode like he had the night before; there was too much on the line and people were depending on him.

Meanwhile, the trio of turtles knew that they were walking into a trap and did so boldly, without any pretense of stealth, dragging a large metal trash can noisily onto the roof with them. It was chained shut, and they upended it to rest on its lid.

"New deal," Leonardo said confidently, patting the bottom of the garbage can almost smugly. His brothers unchained it and lifted the bin up and off of a bound Bradford, duct tape over his mouth. Leonardo grabbed a handful of blonde hair and tilted Bradford's face up to them, as if to remove any doubt of who it was. "Let Murakami come with us or we'll toss Bradford off the roof. Just a simple exchange, our friend for your friend."

Raphael and Xever looked at each other dubiously, the tension between them from earlier snapping like a rubber band as they both burst out laughing.

"Go ahead," cracked Xever. "Saves us the trouble."

Bradford's eyes narrowed at them and he struggled to cuss them out through the thick tape as Donatello and Michelangelo dragged him to the far end of the roof.

"We're serious," Leonardo warned, the confidence in his voice faltering.

"So are we," Xever said, his voice low. "Deadly serious." He stepped up to the rope and gave it a nick with his knife, just enough to start a fray. "Surrender yourselves and he goes free, unharmed. Fight us and he will fall, and you will still be our prisoners."

Raphael let out a sharp, piercing whistle, and a moment later the roof was teeming with Foot Soldiers.

Donatello and Michelangelo looked down at Bradford, whom they held precariously over the ledge, then at each other, before hauling the man back in. They let him flop gracelessly onto the roof, his arms still pinned to his sides by loops of rope. Drawing their weapons, the mutants made it clear that they had no intention of surrendering quietly, despite being outnumbered fifteen to one by Foot Soldiers alone.

"That's what I thought," sneered Xever. "Take them down!"

The turtles seemed much more prepared to be swarmed this time, and Foot Soldiers started hitting the asphalt of the filthy roof as quickly as they closed in. Raphael had the luxury of holding back with Xever for a few minutes, and he took that time to study them.

Donatello was as tall as Raphael but much leaner, and he fought with a decisive precision that was admirable.

Michelangelo was the shortest of the three, his build stockier than Leonardo's but not as heavily muscled as Raphael. His fighting style was a bit looser than his brother's, more improvised and fluid to the situation without losing the edge that showed he had been properly trained.

Leonardo fell somewhere perfectly in the middle physically among the three, and moved as though he were putting on a clinic. He had a natural, graceful form as he fought, and Raphael had never seen anyone as skilled in the art of Niten Ichi, especially with two full sized katana.

Interestingly, all of them purposely avoided landing any fatal blows. They maimed or knocked the soldiers unconscious, but didn't seem to have the fortitude to finish any of them off.

A Foot Soldier, presumably one of Bradford's lackeys, hurriedly cut Bradford free from his bindings. Immediately, Bradford charged through the chaos to confront Xever and Raphael.

"How did you know they were bluffing?" Bradford demanded of them.

"We didn't," Raphael deadpanned.

Xever snickered. "But since you're here, why don't you make yourself useful?"

Donatello and Michelangelo were fighting back to back now, working together flawlessly. They kept the hoard of black-clad ninja at bay, but most of the men they put down were able to get back up again shortly after. They weren't trying to break through the ranks or escape the weapons that surrounded them, and when Raphael realized that they were making themselves the obvious target, his eyes scanned the rooftop for Leonardo.

Sure enough, about eight feet above the main fracas, Leonardo was facing two soldiers as he worked his way across the narrow walkway at the base of the billboard. Once he made it to the left end of that pathway, he would be leaping distance to the corner of the roof Murakami was hanging from, plus have the advantage of a sudden power attack from above. Raphael climbed the rusting girders holding up the billboard swiftly, determined to cut Leonardo off before that could happen.

One of the Foot Soldiers swooshed past him, and Raphael heard him whine in pain from below after impact. They might not suffer any casualties today, but some of their men definitely wouldn't be fighting again any time soon.

Raphael hoisted himself onto the walkway and drew his katana as the other Foot Soldier challenging Leonardo was slammed into the billboard and sunk down to the rotted wooden planks, wheezing.

"Why are you doing this?" Leonardo asked, letting out a frustrated huff as he glanced over at the state of the rope holding Murakami.

Raphael peeked over his shoulder as well despite himself. The rope had frayed a bit further and a muffled cry drifted from Murakami. He was taking Raphael's advice to not squirm about, and was still secure for now, but the man was in danger and this ambush needed to be concluded as soon as possible.

"I'm only going to make this offer once," Raphael said, squaring up to Leonardo and ready to slash at him if he tried to jump down. "Turn Hamato Yoshi over to me to face justice for his crimes, and the Foot Clan will leave you in peace."

Leonardo's blue eyes widened in surprise behind his mask before narrowing coldly. "His crimes?" he demanded, then gestured at Raphael with one of his katana. "You're delusional. He's committed no crimes!"

Raphael swept the katana pointed at him aside roughly with his own, the gasping Foot Soldier between them scrambling away to avoid an incidental slice. Leonardo surged into action, their rematch playing out on a platform barely wide enough to accommodate them. Their exchange had to be kept to the tight, close style of kenjutsu that was more to Karai's preference, and training so often with her had made Raphael very proficient in armed combat inside of his opponent's guard.

Leonardo had the benefit of training with his brothers, however, which took away one of Raphael's favorite advantages when fighting humans. People looked at Raphael and assumed he was strong, but they were still always shocked by the immense force of his blows when it came right down to it, and the speed at which he could deliver them. Leonardo not only expected him to be at this caliber, but matched his size, strength and skill almost evenly. It would have been an almost exhilarating match up under different circumstances.

"Your rat master doesn't deserve your loyalty," Raphael said, unflinching when one of Leonardo's blades grazed his left arm, leaving a streak of red in its wake. "He is a murderer and a coward."

"Lies!" Leonardo denied vehemently. "Splinter would never!"

Leonardo's anger drove him into a flurry that Raphael found difficult to thwart, so he kicked out at his first opportunity, aiming to push Leonardo back or potentially topple him from the walkway. Instead, Leonardo caught his leg under his arm - something else that a human would not have been able to do - and charged forwards a few steps, reversing his own momentum and making Raphael lose his balance. He landed hard on his shell, but kept his chin tucked to avoid hitting the back of his head on impact.

"Master Splinter is an honorable man and a good father, something you've obviously forgotten," Leonardo said, sounding truly disappointed.

Raphael scoffed, his left hand shooting out to grab a rusty length of chain that hung wedged between the planks of the walkway and the top portion of the iron girder. Leonardo dove for him as soon as he noticed, but Raphael kicked out his knee, dropping him into a half kneel, and yanked the chain free. Both of them sprang to their feet in a flash, and Raphael whipped the chain towards Leonardo as he attacked, tangling up one of his katana.

Even with one sword tied up, Leonardo was a dangerous opponent. He defended against Raphael's slashing attacks with his is remaining katana, struggling to pull the other free from the chain's relentless grip before deciding to abandon it altogether in favor of freeing up his right hand. The katana dropped and Raphael shook the weapon from the chain, letting it fall from the billboard's platform.

Below, Xever and Bradford, each with a squad of ninja, had managed to separate Donatello and Michelangelo. The turtles were still fighting with everything they had, but the tide had clearly shifted. Leonardo, angry with the accusations laid against his beloved Master, down one sword, worried for Murakami, and knowing his brothers were in danger, was only a hair's breadth away from losing focus on his own plight.

"Yoshi fled Japan and left his Clan in disgrace," Raphael taunted. "Do you know why? Has he ever told you what he did?"

Leonardo growled and swung low in a horizontal sweep.

Raphael jumped to avoid having his thighs flayed, planted his left foot against the billboard and pushed outward, spinning his body midair and lashing out with his right foot. This time the kick connected, and Leonardo toppled into the billboard. Raphael let the chain flick out again, twirling it so it coiled neatly around his left fist and forearm. He easily swept aside the wild arc of Leonardo's katana as the other turtle spun to face him again. With his katana holding Leonardo's at bay, Raphael cocked back his fist and snapped it forward. Leonardo narrowly dodged the blow that saw Raphael's chain-wrapped fist smash through the first layer of the old billboard, which got momentarily snagged on the jagged wood as he pulled his hand back.

Instead of taking advantage of that moment to strike, Leonardo used it to duck and roll under the gap between the walkway and the bottom of the billboard. Raphael hesitated for a second in following; Leonardo could be waiting for him on the other side with his sword at the ready to stab down at him. The billboard itself was too high to jump over from a standstill, and sprinting around it would waste too much time and still had him turning a blind corner. From the rooftop below, the sounds of battle had ceased and Bradford was gloating. Raphael bet his life in that split second that Leonardo knew his brothers had been captured and was intent only on helping them, and rolled under just in time to see Leonardo leap from the platform to the wooden supports of the water tower a few feet away.

Darting to his feet and sheathing his sword, Raphael rushed to the edge of the walkway, gathered himself, and leapt directly into Leonardo's trajectory as he jumped down from the water tower in a controlled collision.

Raphael landed unharmed in a crouch, while Leonardo was knocked off course, plummeting heavily to the roof and bouncing shell first against the foot of the water tower. Panting, he stood, slightly hunched forward in pain, sword out in front of him but drooping towards the ground.

"Time to go, Leo," Raphael said firmly.

Leonardo wiped away a ribbon of blood that dripped from one nostril with the back of his hand, defiant.

"Lay down your sword and we will release Murakami."

"I'll never betray Master Splinter," Leonardo bit out. "I don't care who he was, I know who he is. You're wasting your time."

"You might not give him up, but I bet we can make one of them talk." Raphael gestured at the latticework of girders to his right. Beyond that dense web of iron, the other two turtles sat, surrounded and defeated.

"You were right, my brother is dead." Leonardo stood up straighter and made a show of lifting his katana as if preparing to drop it in surrender. "You're a monster."

Leonardo spun gracefully on his heel and sliced neatly through the nearest support leg of the water tower, right above an already damaged section, and there was a thunderous crack as the large basin started to tilt towards them.

"Are you insane?!" Raphael shouted. The full force of thousands of gallons of water slammed him into the metal girders, suspending him in place helplessly. All he could do was hold his breath and shield his face against the splintered chunks of wood that poured forth with the freezing, stagnant water. By the time he could move again, he knew it was too late.

Raphael released a continual stream of curses in Japanese as he rounded the billboard. His Clan was in disarray, a sorry collection of drenched, shivering, and gasping humans. Weapons and litter laid in puddles of water all over the roof, and the rope Murakami had been hanging from was split where Xever had weakened it.

Sprinting to the edge of the roof, Raphael braced his hands against the ledge, leaned over, and looked down at the soaked pavement. There was no sign of Murakami or the turtles. Miraculously, the few Foot Soldiers that had been swept off of the roof had caught themselves with grappling hooks, and were making their way back up the side of the building, teeth chattering.

Raphael roared and pushed away from the ledge violently. "We had them!"

"No, we had them," Bradford snipped. "You lost them."

Growling, Raphael barrelled over to Bradford and pointed one huge finger at his face. "Don't you dare start with me, Goldilocks, or I'll stuff you back in that trash can where you belong."

Bradford sneered, blue eyes flashing. "I'd like to see you try, freak."

"That's enough," Xever said irately.

Raphael and Bradford both turned on Xever, fire in their eyes, and he put up his hands in surrender.

"Fighting among ourselves is not going to help anything," he pointed out.

"Nothing is going to help us when Master Shredder finds out what happened," Bradford muttered. "I can't believe you let him go."

"I didn't let him go," Raphael protested, the heat of his anger burning away any lingering cold from his impromptu shower. "I had Leo beat. How could I have possibly known that he would do something so stupid?"

The Foot Soldiers were slowly drifting in closer around them, awaiting instructions, and suddenly it was all too overwhelming - the loss, the humiliation, the poor example they were setting for their underlings, Bradford's jibes, the fallout with Shredder that was sure to come.

"Clean up your mess," Raphael barked at Xever, throwing his hands up and stomping off.

"My mess?" Xever asked, sounding offended, as if he hadn't been the mastermind behind this botched mission in the first place.

"This is on you, too. Where are you going?" Bradford asked his retreating shell.

"I need some air," Raphael yelled over his shoulder, then leapt to the next rooftop, then the next, leaving no room for arguments.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Perched on the balcony of a darkened apartment, Raphael pinched a small pair of binoculars between his fingers and squinted into it. From his makeshift crow's nest, he zoomed in on the noodle shop, 24/7, from two streets away. The lights were on and some activity was apparent beyond the veil of red curtains despite the Closed sign.

"Baka," Raphael muttered.

The turtles shouldn't have let Murakami go home yet, should have stashed him somewhere safe for at least a day or two, the amateurs. Really, they should have been laying low themselves; setting up another ambush right here would be easy.

Thumb brushing over the smooth plastic of his cell phone, Raphael considered calling Xever, then decided against it. He shouldn't be here, either. Raphael was in a foul mood, and this opportunity to be alone for a while and take some time to breathe was exceedingly rare. Master Shredder had eyes and ears everywhere. Only Xever and Bradford's bickering, paired with the utter confusion and misery Leonardo had left the Foot Soldiers in, had created this opportunity for Raphael to strike out on his own.

At first he had resisted the urge to make sure Murakami had been rescued and was unharmed, as Raphael had promised, but he couldn't shake free of the shame for his part in the man's abduction and his failure to protect him.

The door to the shop opened, and Donatello and Leonardo left, looking a little worse for wear but smiling, followed by Michelangelo, who was practically bouncing with excitement over a takeout bag Murakami had handed him. A young woman emerged and hugged Murakami goodbye before joining them.

The red-headed girl. April.

Raphael adjusted the lens clumsily and focused on her, memorizing her face, and was a bit surprised when she disappeared into the nearest manhole with the rest of them without hesitation.

Interesting.

The Foot already knew that the Hamato mutants used the maze of underground tunnels, subways, and sewer systems to navigate the city unseen. Trying to follow three creatures with superior senses down narrow corridors with little cover had already been ruled out as a waste of time; the turtles could keep a tail going in circles for hours, until they gave up or got lost. A human girl with knowledge of the location of their lair, however, was much more promising if they could track her while she was alone.

Raphael stood, stretched, and did one more sweep of his surroundings with the binoculars to make sure no one from the Foot had found him yet. He was starting to understand why the constant surveillance got under Karai's skin so much, why she had made a game of sorts out of avoiding her watch dogs since the time they had been kids. He was still in the clear, but it would only be a matter of time before someone thought to check here and escort him back to the watchtower on Shredder's orders.

Climbing nimbly down the row of balconies until he was a safe distance to jump to the ground, Raphael silently made his way through the side streets and shuffled between the narrow alleys between shops and old houses. When the coast was clear, he made his way to the front door of 24/7, which was typically open at all hours as the name implied, but was currently 'Closed for Renovations'. He tried the handle, found it unlocked, and let himself inside the shop quickly before some night owl wandered by out on the street.

"Did you forget something?" Murakami's cheery voice asked.

Raphael locked the door, the click of it his only response.

Murakami straightened, his expression more serious but a small smile on his face regardless. "Oh, hello, Other Turtle-sama."

"So you know, then? And, please, it's Raphael."

"Of course I know," laughed Murakami. "Come, sit, I saved you some food." He bustled around behind the counter and laid out a small platter of dumplings.

"I can't stay long, but there is something I need to know," Raphael said, shifting his weight and feeling uncomfortable with the offered hospitality.

"Your mind is troubled and your stomach is empty. Come eat, and we can talk," Murakami coaxed, switching to Japanese as if he knew it might be more familiar and soothing.

Sighing, Raphael took a seat at the counter, his stool still warm from one of the brothers he had just battled. Their scent was heavy in here, along with April's, something else he made a mental note of for some other time.

Murakami was waiting expectantly for his reaction to the food, clearly not interested in a conversation until he had tried it.

"I don't deserve your kindness, Mr Murakami-sama," Raphael said humbly, also slipping back into Japanese. Picking up one of the dumplings with his chopsticks, he sniffed it and quirked his head to the side in confusion. "What are these?"

"Pizza gyoza, special invention for the others as a thank you for saving my life."

Raphael popped the dumpling into his mouth skeptically, unable to hold back the small moan that escaped him at the unique but delicious flavor. "This is...so much better than it has any right to be," he said in amusement, scarfing the rest of them down unceremoniously.

A wide, proud smile spread across the old man's face, and something about him made Raphael terribly homesick.

"I'm sorry for the way you've been treated tonight, and that I couldn't keep my word that you'd be safe," he said after swallowing the last mouthful of pizza gyoza.

"Apology accepted, Raphael-sama."

"I want to make sure nothing like this happens to you again. The Purple Dragons will not be back, but I can't guarantee the same of the Foot Clan unless you answer this question honestly. What do you know of their Master, Hamato Yoshi? He also goes by Splinter." Raphael practically cringed as he asked, hating how it sounded like an ultimatum to someone who owed him less than nothing and was being gracious nonetheless.

"All I know is what I overheard while I was a hostage, and most of that was from you and your men. I don't know what else you are expecting from me," Murakami said, shrugging. "I only met them yesterday."

"Wait, they've only known you for a day?" Raphael said in disbelief, doubting his own lie detecting abilities for a moment. "Why were they so quick to rescue you, then?"

"Because, they are good boys," Murakami said confidently.

Raphael grumbled, setting his chopsticks down on his empty platter and sliding it aside.

"You have a good heart, too, Raphael-sama. Don't think I didn't notice that you were the only one who cared if I lived or died tonight," he said gently.

"Don't compare me to them," Raphael said coolly. "I'm nothing like them."

"You are not like those cruel men you are running around with, either. Don't you think you belong with your kin?"

"I don't belong anywhere," Raphael snapped, pushing away from the counter and standing abruptly. "I will tell my Clan that you know nothing about Hamato Yoshi. For your own sake, keep it that way. Their Master is a treacherous and dangerous man."

"Then I am happy to stay far from him."

"Good. Consider us even, then. Your debt to the Purple Dragons is paid in full."

"That is wonderful news, but what happens next month?" asked Murakami, looking truly concerned for the first time since Raphael had arrived. "Even if I start the month without debt, they will be back demanding more. Every month the cost gets higher, and they vandalize the shop and threaten me when I can't pay them."

A protection racket. Raphael sighed and rubbed his face, annoyed. Of course it wouldn't be as simple as a shady loan or some such nonsense. He took a good look around the shop, at the broken stools in one corner, the large crack on the far end of the counter, the damage to the walls, then back at Murakami, who was fiddling with a cloth. He took a breath and softened his voice before replying. "I promise that they won't be back."

"And how about the other shopkeepers here in Chinatown? It's the same for all of us. Is there anything you can do for them?"

"Why would I bother?" Raphael asked quizzically.

"Oh." Murakami's face fell, the disappointment rolling off of him. He forced a smile back on his face anyways, and was sincere when he said, "You are welcome here any time."

Feeling oddly shaken, Raphael turned and left the shop, and this time Murakami locked the door.

He couldn't see them, but Raphael knew that Foot Soldiers were watching over him as he made his way down the closest alley. He was running out of time to accomplish what he intended on doing before returning to the watchtower. Luckily for him, Fong and his stooges were complete morons who made his job that much easier by traipsing loudly towards 24/7 from the next alley down. A few rooftops and one dramatic jump later, and Raphael towered angrily in the dark over Fong and two of his men, blocking their path.

"Where do you think you're going?" Raphael demanded.

Fong tried to man up in front of his guys and put on a tough face. "The noodle man still owes us some cash. You're done with him now, aren't you?"

"Murakami is off limits," Raphael rumbled. "If you step foot in that shop, I will tear it off. Understood?"

All three men gaped at him and Fong sputtered in indignation. "You can't do that! This is Purple Dragon territory. If the Foot Clan thinks it can just come in here and..."

Raphael grabbed Fong by his vest and flung him into the nearest wall, pinning him against the brick before he keeled over like a rag doll.

"You have no idea what I can do," Raphael seethed, baring his teeth in Fong's face, "but if you cross me again, you're going to find out. In fact," he added, the image of Murakami's disappointed face vivid in his memory, "I'm claiming Chinatown as my territory, and this protection scam you're running belongs to me as of right now. Agree to my terms and maybe I won't run you all out of New York."

Fong hesitated, smirking as one of the men behind Raphael pointed a handgun at him and demanded he let his boss go with a quivering voice.

Raphael whistled twice, and a shuriken whizzed down from a roof, hitting the gun and knocking it from the man's hand. Four Foot Soldiers descended silently, surrounding them, katanas drawn.

Raphael pressed in a little harder on Fong's chest, making him wheeze. "Agreed!" he managed.

"Smart choice," Raphael quipped, releasing him to sag limply against the wall.

"What shall we do with them, Master Raphael?" asked a feminine voice with a thick Japanese accent from behind one of the black masks.

"Let them go, except that one." Raphael gestured to the man who had pulled a gun on him. "Break his hand first."

ooooooooooooooooooo

"You have been avoiding me."

Shredder's baritone voice rumbled unexpectedly up Raphael's spine. He set his jaw and willed himself not to shudder, keeping his binoculars plastered to his face to avoid the glare that was no doubt being leveled at him. "Not...exactly, Master."

Even a man such as the Shredder was still only a man, and by the time Raphael had returned to the hideout, Saki had been asleep. Maybe he had dodged the meeting that had been called today for Bradford and Xever to explain what had happened the night before, but Raphael hadn't been specifically requested to attend. He was sure those two idiots had thrown him under the bus for the turtles escaping, and the thought made his nose wrinkle up in irritation.

"I don't know what to say," Raphael breathed into the cool breeze, finally lowering his binoculars and meeting Shredder's eyes. "We failed you and I have no excuses."

"I have had more than my fill of excuses from Bradford and Xever," Shredder stated sharply. He unclipped his own binoculars from his belt, then scanned the vicinity of the Wolf Hotel from the otherwise deserted rooftop garden of an office building down the street. "Any sign of them yet?"

"No, but the men setting up that machine or whatever it is on the roof seem to be picking up the pace."

Under the brightly lit letters spelling out WOLF HOTEL was a large, metal octagon with glass panels that revealed a softly glowing green light. At its base was a control console, helmed by two identical-looking men in black suits that worked with increasing urgency as time went on. A tip from a Foot spy who had overheard the turtles talking about needing to be at this hotel tonight had led them here, but their connection to these strange happenings was still unknown. Most of the apparatus had already been set up when Raphael had begun this stake-out about an hour ago, and he still had no idea what it was he was looking at.

Uninterested in the mystery unfolding, Shredder turned away and pinned Raphael under his gaze. Though he was as still as granite, he exuded a restless, dangerous energy that took Raphael aback as he realized that Shredder intended to take matters into his own bladed hands tonight.

"I was told that you were found outside the noodle shop after your disappearing act. Care to explain?"

"I didn't want to waste time waiting for Bradford and Xever to get their act together," Raphael replied carefully, "and I was still too late. The turtles were just slipping back into the sewers when I arrived. I interrogated the old man, but he doesn't have any information we can use."

The few feet of space between them seemed to crackle with electricity as Shredder's frustration flared. Raphael inclined his head slightly and averted his eyes, feeling like a child again on the verge of a severe punishment. "I'm sorry, Master Shredder. I just didn't want to come back to you empty handed." There was a fleeting, terrifying moment of silence wherein Raphael waited for Shredder's reaction to his half-truths, his mind racing.

"And what of the altercation with the local gang?" Shredder asked finally, his attention already being pulled back to the Wolf Hotel. His bloodlust seemed to have a single-minded purpose, and for now, that wasn't Raphael.

He let out a relieved breath, then actually scowled. "The Purple Dragons needed to be put in their place. They were challenging our authority."

"Let Xever deal with it," Shredder said absently, then visibly tensed. "South side of the building. They're making their move."

The trio of turtles were scaling the hotel with the aid of homemade grappling guns. On the roof, multiple figures were now working on the machine while others stood armed guard, but they weren't men, they were, "...robots?" Raphael asked aloud, confused.

Once they reached the top of the building, Leonardo, Michelangelo and Donatello separated, swiftly eliminating the sentries with bows and arrows before coming back together as a team. A brief firefight broke out as the two men in suits and a handful of robots defended their machine, and Raphael watched, fascinated, as the guns shot laser bolts instead of bullets. As far as he knew, that technology didn't exist yet.

A particularly vicious slash had Leonardo disemboweling one of the suits, except there was no blood, and what splatted to the asphalt looked much more like a brain than entrails. A few seconds later, it flailed small tentacles and fled the scene.

Raphael's blood ran cold and he almost dropped his binoculars. It was like something straight out of a sci-fi manga. "What the hell are those? Cyborgs? Mutants?"

But Shredder was ignoring him, sending a text signaling Bradford and Xever to attack, so Raphael kept his attention raptly on the roof.

Donatello crouched down by the console and pried it open. His brothers watched over his shoulders as he inspected the wiring, and they seemed to be arguing over something.

Why did they take that thing over from those creatures in the first place? Raphael wondered to himself.

When Bradford and Xever burst onto the rooftop, only Leonardo and Michelangelo drew their weapons, taking a protective stance in front of where Donatello was working. A fight ensued, but the pair of turtles were distracted, constantly checking back to a now frantic Donatello. Raphael squinted, trying to get a better look at what was happening with him. Just behind Donatello, a row of lights on the machine that had all been lit before were going out, dwindling down at regular pace. Like a timer.

"It's a bomb!" Raphael blurted out in alarm, turning to face Shredder. "Master, you need to get away from here, we don't know what the blast radius will be. I'll go call off Bradford and Xever."

"I am not letting them out of my sight now that I've got them," Shredder growled, "and you will do no such thing."

Raphael was torn between obedience and his duty to protect his Master at any cost. Shredder was still calmly watching the situation on the roof through the binoculars, and the thought of trying to knock him out or drag him back while his peripheral vision was impaired flitted through his mind.

"Don't you dare," Shredder warned as if could hear his thoughts.

Raphael shifted his weight nervously and huffed. "But…"

"Calm yourself. The one in purple has disarmed it."

Relieved, Raphael took a moment to regain his composure before resuming his spying. With all three mutants now focused and fighting, Bradford and Xever were struggling.

"They are having a hard time keeping up with the turtles without backup," Raphael noted.

"Their fighting style reeks of Hamato Yuuta. They could only have been trained by Yoshi," he spat, the hatred clear in his voice. "You may collect Bradford and Xever now. Keep them out of my way and do not interfere."

"Yes, Master Shredder."

Rushing swiftly across the rooftops with the aid of a grappling gun, Raphael alighted atop the flat, metallic surface of the bomb in time to see Bradford and Xever cornered back to back along the edge of the structure.

"Lay down your weapons," Leonardo said firmly as he closed in on Bradford, katana ready.

"If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me," Bradford returned, cracking the glass panel beside him with his sword.

"No!" Donatello yelled, jumping back, the look of horror on his face spurring Raphael into action.

The glass held for a few seconds, but the glowing green substance burst forth in a thick, liquid tide that swept Bradford away. The turtles had all managed to avoid coming into contact with it, and so had Xever. Raphael had been able to grab him by the collar of his jacket and pull him out of harm's way, dragging him up onto the flat top.

"My hero," Xever joked, his voice shaky.

Raphael scoffed, helping the man to his feet. "Come on," he said quietly, gesturing with a nod to where Shredder had just made his entrance. "He wants us out of the way. Let's check if his golden boy survived."

They slunk off together, giving Shredder a wide berth as he challenged the turtles.

Bradford had been carried over a small ledge to a lower level of the roof, and as they approached, they could hear him whimpering and moaning. They ran forward, following the trail of drying ooze, then jumped down a few feet to the graveled area. Raphael stopped so suddenly that his heels slid and dug into the tiny stones. He shot a hand out to catch Xever before his feet could touch the green puddle that Bradford was writhing in. Xever slammed into his hand with an "oof," then clutched his arm tightly for balance.

The sight that awaited them was the stuff of nightmares. Bradford was covered in green slime and his entire body was in turmoil. As he slowly grew to an impossible size, the sickening sound of bone and sinew popping and realigning was only rivaled by his choking, inhuman cries of distress. He sprouted a tail, fur, fangs and claws, shifting into a form that looked more canine than human before collapsing into a silent heap in the pool of ooze.

Stomach churning at the revolting spectacle he had just witnessed, Raphael turned away and promptly threw up.

"It...it mutated him," Xever said, dazed, releasing Raphael with a shudder. "Is that what happened to you?"

Raphael dry-heaved, hands on his knees. "It must be, how else?" he answered weakly. What explanation other than this mutating ooze could explain how he had come to be, and in this very city? Bile rose up to the back of his throat with another thought. "He did that to us. Yoshi did that to us when we were toddlers."

Rage cut through his nausea. He had to find Hamato Yoshi, had to find this monster who had wronged so many and yet somehow still commanded the loyalty of his brothers. If they insisted on protecting him, they were a part of the problem and would have to be eliminated.

"Keep an eye on Bradford in case he wakes up," Raphael ordered. "Don't touch him or the ooze."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

If the Shredder had left any of the turtles alive, he wanted to be there for the interrogation. Hopping back up to the top level, Raphael was impressed that the fight was still in progress, though it seemed to be coming to its conclusion.

Leonardo was down, and Shredder had just flung Donatello to the ground next to him. Long claws sprung from his gauntlet as he lifted his hand to strike them, but Michelangelo caught it with the chain of his kusarigama. He leapt up and over the huge W of the WOLF HOTEL sign, pulling Shredder away and up into the air before hooking the sickle on a metal support beam, leaving him suspended.

Shredder grunted loudly in pain as his full weight hung by one arm, and Raphael's feet automatically brought him a few paces closer before he remembered that he was ordered not to interfere.

With a snarl, Shredder slashed out with his free arm, the blades on his other gauntlet slicing neatly through the W, freeing him and sending half of the letter tumbling to the roof, where it landed directly on Michelangelo. Panicked, Leonardo and Donatello ran to his aid, struggling to lift the chunk of glass and metal off of him.

Raphael's chest clenched sharply as his mind replayed his own voice promising Michelangelo that he would always protect him, but he shoved the memory aside forcefully. If they were willing to be executed for the rat, then so be it, the choice was theirs.

Michelangelo crawled out from beneath the wreckage and stood with his brothers. Battered and bruised, the three of them got into their ready stances and faced off against Shredder once again.

As brave as they were, they were no match for him, even attacking together. Donatello and Michelangelo ended up slumped on the floor within seconds, and Shredder took hold of Leonardo and pushed him against the base of the sign. The claws of his gauntlet clinked against the metal on either side of Leonardo's neck, trapping him, and a third blade slowly came up the middle to rest at his throat.

"Tell me where Splinter is and I promise your demise will be swift," Shredder said, clearly at the end of his patience.

Leonardo turned his face away from the blade, grimacing, then shot an accusatory glare at Raphael when he noticed him standing stoically in the background.

"Help meeee," Bradford whined, crawling over the ledge behind Raphael.

Raphael flinched away, then narrowed his eyes at Xever as he also pulled himself up. "I told you to keep an eye on him," he growled.

Xever shrugged helplessly, hands open. "I can't touch him and he won't listen to me."

"What is going on?" snapped Shredder, his eyes going wide with shock when he spun around and saw the giant dog man dripping with green ooze.

"Master…"

It took a moment for what had happened to register in Shredder's mind. "Bradford?" He turned back to where Leonardo had been pinned, but all three turtles had used the opportunity to make another hasty escape.

"Nooooo!" Shredder howled, enraged, then stomped towards Bradford.

Raphael threw himself between Bradford and Shredder, physically blocking his progression. "No, don't!" he said, holding out a hand to halt him.

Shredder took Raphael by the wrist without missing a beat and struck a pressure point on his arm that made it go limp. He spun Raphael around, knocked out his feet from under him, and let him fall forward flat out on his plastron. Shredder kept his arm wrenched up behind him, and set a foot on his shell.

"You will stay out of it, or you will face the same punishment as Bradford," Shredder seethed.

Raphael gasped, eyes going wide when he saw that his face was mere inches from a spattering of mutagen. "Don't touch him, the ooze will mutate you," he wheezed into the asphalt.

Xever stuttered a confirmation and Shredder pulled Raphael back up to his feet.

"Does it have any affect on you?" Shredder asked.

Raphael tried to rub the life back into his arm, looking uneasily at where Bradford was sitting and staring despondently at his huge, clawed hands. "I'd rather not find out," he answered, his voice strained.

"Fair enough," Shredder conceded. "Get a truck for Bradford and have him cleaned up."

"Yes, Master." Raphael pulled out his phone, already searching for their contacts with cartage companies.

"Xever, call in a team to get some samples of the ooze, as much as they can recover," Shredder ordered. "I'm heading to the mansion with Karai for a while. Tonight has given me much to consider."