...

How did get so far
From where I was
When did I decide
To lose my way
Who have I become?

–"New Low," from Middle Class Rut

GOING FERAL

Casey gripped the steering wheel hard and merged a little too sharply onto the Long Island Expressway. In the back of his cargo van, shells bumping off metal and harsh criticisms of his driving skills sounded off.

"I'm sorry, I'm still getting used to driving this boat," he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

Leonardo's head appeared in the gap between the two front seats, bracing himself with a hand on the back of each headrest. "Where did you get this thing, anyways?"

"Tommy sold it to me, he gave me a good deal."

"Tommy Vizioso?" he asked disapprovingly. While April and the guys all worried about his limited association with the mafia, Leonardo was definitely the most vocal about it.

"You know what Tommy I'm talking about," Casey said through gritted teeth, irritated. "Nowadays he's just a nice old man who loves to cook, okay?"

"Great, this van was probably used to haul bodies," Donatello piped in from behind Leonardo.

"Hey, give me a break. I could've bought a crappy little car. You know, something with actual windows and visibility, but I got this monstrosity instead so I could give you guys a ride incognito."

"I like your van, Casey," Michelangelo called out from the very back.

"Thank you, Mikey," Casey answered pointedly.

Casey felt Leonardo chuff near his ear. Apparently he had decided he'd shit-talked enough, because when he spoke again his voice was serious. "You're sure he won't be home?"

"Yeah," Casey replied. "I did a delivery to Feral earlier today."

"Casey…"

"How else am I supposed to afford to buy you guys all these nice things?" he teased, taking one hand off the wheel to gesture vaguely at the interior of his van and its chipped windshield.

"You could just be a bus-boy. What you're doing is dangerous, not to mention whatever side-hustle you have going with Raph."

Talking about his somewhat complicated arrangement with Raphael was a whole other topic that Casey wasn't willing to get into right now.

"Dude, our whole lives are dangerous, all the time. I'm fine. Anyways," he continued, "when Doc Feral answered the door he was all dressed up in a fancy tux, and I commented that he was lookin' sharp today. Turns out he had some award dinner gala thing he was going to tonight in New York City. I checked it out online and it's supposed to go until eleven."

"I just have a bad feeling about all of this," sighed Leonardo before sinking into the darkness of the cargo area.

Casey didn't disagree, but he didn't hear about or see Dr Feral often enough to know anything about his schedule or routines, so they had to jump at this chance if they wanted to snoop around his mansion. The mansion part wasn't an exaggeration, either; Feral owned a large estate in Southampton, and searching it would require time. They needed to know enough about Feral's work with mutants to stay ahead of him and try to stay safe, plus he had told Raphael he would do some more digging after his near-capture.

About twenty minutes later, Casey was parking on a secluded rural sideroad that split two sprawling properties a few miles from their target; he didn't want his vehicle to be noticed anywhere near Feral's residence. Even after nightfall, the August air was warm and humid, oppressive even. Michelangelo let Casey piggyback, as the turtles were ironically much faster and more agile than he was. They covered the distance through fields, across courtyards, and past giant swimming pools under a blanket of stars that were never visible in New York City until they reached the outskirts of Feral's estate.

Casey hunkered down in a treeline with Leonardo and Michelangelo, while Donatello went ahead to disarm the security system. Several minutes later they got the all clear text from him on their tPhones. Donatello carefully helped Casey through a window without incident, while Leonardo and Michelangelo took their posts to keep a precautionary watch on opposite ends of the massive roof.

Casey wandered the halls of the mansion with Donatello, awestruck. They had never seen such opulence in person before, and it was easy to get distracted by the beauty and excess that having millions of dollars in your bank account could provide. It had always been difficult for Casey to imagine a house so large it would have 'east and west wings' or some other bullshit he'd heard of on TV, but at the moment he felt like he could get lost in here with a map and a compass.

"Damn, this is gonna take forever," Casey sighed, taking one last longing look at a private movie theater before continuing on.

Donatello hummed in agreement. "The most likely places to find something useful will be either his office, bedroom, or lab, if he has one here. Let's try the other upstairs." He pointed at an oak grand staircase with lions carved on either side of the railing. High above, a gaudy crystal chandelier lit their way.

"Looks like some corny Haunting of Hill House set."

Donatello snorted, and after what felt like a hundred stairs later, they were traversing a new set of hallways and sitting areas, poking their heads in every door to find a room that looked lived in.

"There are so many bedrooms," Casey complained, starting to get frustrated. "Who even needs this many bedrooms when you live alone?"

"Eureka," said Donatello as he peeked into yet another room. "Found the master bedroom."

Casey walked in and whistled in appreciation. "This room is bigger than my entire apartment." The four poster bed alone wouldn't have fit in his bedroom.

With gloved hands, Casey and Donatello carefully opened desk drawers, looked through the walk-in closet, the end tables, and the numerous book shelves, rifling through notebooks and papers and useless junk, then putting it back meticulously exactly as they had found it.

Donatello stopped, chin in one hand, and stared into the closet.

"I already checked it," Casey said.

"There is something…mechanical in there," Donatello said, cocking his head to the side and walking in carefully. "I can barely hear it, but it's there."

Casey watched as Donatello tapped one of the walls with his finger, producing a hollow noise. He fumbled around for a moment, then slid a false wall panel aside to reveal a small elevator, too narrow for both of them to ride together. Donatello went first, then Casey followed, trying to quell the claustrophobic anxiety that bubbled within him.

The doors opened up to an immense secret laboratory. Donatello was absolutely beside himself, rushing from one piece of equipment to another and fan-girling over every single one. Casey got a continuous commentary of what things were, how much they cost, and what Donatello thought he could achieve with them if only he could afford to buy or build one himself.

There was a maze of desks and tables set up into different workstations, and though Casey checked out the remnants of Dr Feral's various projects with a much more uneducated eye, he did find something he recognized. "These are the tranq darts the Purple Dragons used on Raph."

Donatello sidled up next to him and peered into the black metal case that Casey had opened. Nestled inside on molded foam were neat rows of the glass BIO-Tech darts.

"So, your suspicions were correct," Donatello noted.

They both noticed the clear refrigeration unit across from the tranquilizer dart production area at the same time. It was only the size of a mini fridge, but it was full of hanging blood packs.

"This guy rob a blood bank?"

Donatello squinted and bent down to inspect them through the glass. "They are all labeled Specimen 01A."

"What's Specimen 01A?"

Donatello shrugged and they moved on.

Casey scoffed at another station. "Dude must have rancid breath." He gestured to a desk that seemed devoted to making the little dissolving breath fresheners you could buy at any drugstore. The unused sheets of the thin film had rows of tiny perforations to make it easier to split up into little stamps, and were divided with clear plastic and stacked in a Plexiglass case.

Donatello rolled his eyes. "That might be the only use you have for fast-dissolving oral film."

Behind his back, Casey silently mimicked repeating Donatello with his holier-than-thou attitude.

Donatello sighed without even looking back at him, then tensed up visibly. "Casey, what…what have you been delivering to Feral?"

"Gee, Donnie, I don't wanna die, so I never look. The boxes are always sealed up."

"Like this one?" Donatello moved aside and the package he had delivered earlier today was sitting on the back corner of the desk, and the box was open.

"Yeah," he replied, his throat going dry. "Why?"

Donatello pushed a flap open so he could get a peek of a plastic-wrapped brick of white powder.

"Is that cocaine?"

"No, ketamine."

Casey put his hands on his knees and took a deep breath. He knew that his occasional side job as a delivery guy for the mafia meant he was most likely transporting illegal goods around. He thought maybe stolen product, money, potentially information, maybe some lower grade drugs, at worst.

"I didn't think they would trust me with anything of that caliber," Casey said.

"They trust that you would go to jail forever if you were caught and pretend not to know you," Donatello snapped. "That's why they only pay you in cash. No paper trail."

Casey felt sick, with himself, with his absentee dad, with this whole goddamn situation. "Donnie, please believe me, I didn't know it was this bad. I was desperate, about to be homeless, no money for food…and now that I'm in, I don't know if they'll let me out. Not if I'm in this deep."

"I'm not upset with you, Casey," Donatello said. "If it wasn't you they were taking advantage of to move their drugs, it would be someone else. At least what we learn from you can possibly be used against them."

"You always were the most practical one," Casey joked weakly.

After an awkward moment of silence, Casey pulled himself together and they continued on. Further into the lab was what seemed to be Feral's primary computer, and Donatello set about hacking into it immediately and copying data onto an external hard drive.

Casey continued to explore, wanting to cover as much ground as quickly as possible. Five rows of shelves an entire head taller than him loomed to the right of the computer, creating a bottleneck in the lab, and he dipped into one of the aisles. The shelves were loaded with labeled specimen jars, many of different creatures, and several of those with noted genetic deformities. Other jars preserved samples like organs, growths, and tumors. It was morbidly fascinating, and he gawked openly at them until forcing himself back on task. As he left the macabre collection and exited the opposite end of the shelving units, he stumbled into what appeared to be an operating theater.

Two surgical steel tables rested on a tile floor, one large enough for a person and the other about half the size, both of which sported restraints and grooves that slanted down towards their own built-in sinks. In between them, a smaller table on wheels held various sizes of scalpels, a tiny saw, steel picks, and other terrifying shit that looked like they were made purely for torture.

"Donnie?" On the closest wall, a white lab coat with old, faded bloodstains hung on a hook. "Donnie?" Casey called out again, his voice an octave or five higher.

"Yeah?" Donatello stepped out from the shelves, looking preoccupied.

"What is this?"

"An autopsy and dissection table," he said nonchalantly, peering back over his shoulder at some of the specimens.

Casey supposed that if you were actually a scientist, this stuff was probably a whole lot less distressing, but… "Then why do they have restraints?"

Donatello paused, lips pursed, and really looked at them. Casey could see something click in his brain, and his expression made Casey go cold from head to toe.

"I've read some of his papers on gene therapy and genetic mutations, so I was familiar with him and his work already to a degree. Feral is very outspoken against strengthening animal rights and cruelty laws," Donatello said slowly, looking ill. "That isn't really unusual in the scientific community or farming industries, but Feral is also pro-vivisection. Since we had found all that ketamine I was hoping that it was more of an opinion in limited circumstances and not common practice."

"Do I even want to know what that means?"

"He either doesn't care or doesn't believe that non-humans feel pain."

"You're telling me this place is loaded up with anesthetic but he doesn't use it?" Casey asked in disbelief.

"I'm telling you that is quite possible, yes."

Donatello was looking past him, and Casey turned to see what had grabbed his attention. There was another room partitioned off on this side of the lab, with one long, chest-high window that was black. They gravitated to the darkened window almost against their will, and from this close Casey could make out the faint shapes of cages or kennels. The light switch was on the outside, and Donatello's fingers moved slowly out to flick it. Casey tried to speak up, to say no, to look away, turn around, anything, but he was frozen in place as the lights came on.

The caged animals were mostly rats and rabbits, but there were other species as well, some recognizable, others maimed or altered beyond that. Many were stitched up in areas, others sported open wounds. Some of these hapless creatures were missing entire limbs, and among those, new appendages were trying to regenerate in a warped facsimile of what they had used to be. And then there was the noise, muffled by the glass and closed door, yet still an indescribable keening of pure suffering that the lights had startled them into making.

"Oh my god, Donnie, what the fuck?" Casey wheezed, trying not to throw up or faint. He desperately swatted at the switch, plunging them back into darkness and whatever small comfort that might give them.

Casey felt Donatello's weight lean on him for a moment, then he was being pulled away by the arm from the room of horrors, only to turn a corner and find a new one. A stasis tank with numerous pipes and wires supported Specimen 01A as he floated in the fluid and stared unblinkingly at them with bulging eyes. The mutant monkey, Dr Rockwell.

Casey felt like the air had been sucked from his lungs and dry heaved.

Donatello actually fell to his knees, the leather pads making a soft thud on the floor. "No," he whispered. "I am so sorry, Rockwell."

Casey helped Donatello up and practically dragged him over to the computer. The files were still loading, but nearly complete.

"We need to help him, Casey."

"We can't. We need to get the hell out of here."

"It's our fault he's here."

"It is not," Casey said firmly.

"We let him go. What were we thinking? We have to…"

"Donnie, focus," Casey pleaded. "We might kill Rockwell by accident if we move him. Steal the files and then cover our tracks, you have to rearm the security system and we need to leave. Otherwise he'll know someone was here, and he will come looking for us."

The thought of having this man on their trail with ill intent was sobering and would be nightmare fuel for years to come. Donatello seemed to agree, because once the download was complete he hastily set to work on erasing any sign of their existence from this hellscape. In a paranoid haze, they did a sweep to make sure not one hair or scale was left behind.

Back on the roof, Michelangelo and Leonardo dramatically complained about how boring waiting up there for over an hour had been until Casey and Donatello double and triple checked that they had not left any evidence of themselves anywhere with the same neurotic energy. It must have spooked them, because they went silent and left swiftly, Michelangelo taking Casey again and hauling ass back to the van. Casey took off without a backwards glance, feeling like he could never get himself or his friends far enough away from that cursed place.

Neither Casey nor Donatello would speak or answer any questions, which made for a long, tense drive home, but Casey personally just could not bring himself to recount the events of the evening, or engage in friendly banter as if nothing had happened. Once they were finally back in New York City, he idled in a quiet alley that the guys often used to come and go from the sewers, arms still stiff, hands still clutching the wheel, unmoving.

A tap on his driver's side window made him flinch. It was Donatello. He rolled it down. "Yeah?"

"Leo wants to take Mikey on a quick patrol before heading in for the night, but I want to get started on going over as many files as I can. Do you want to help, or just stay at the lair tonight?" Donatello asked quietly.

"Yeah," Casey replied appreciatively, throwing on the parking brake. "I don't really want to be alone tonight."

"Me neither."

oooooooooooooo

Raphael awoke to the sound of one of his burner phones vibrating around on his nightstand and groaned into his pillow. Without sitting up, he groped blindly and managed to snag it, then fumbled to unlock the screen with his huge finger. He tilted his head and blearily read the alert: Missed Call from Deathwish. His code name for Casey Jones. The hand holding his phone thumped gently back to the bed, as did his face. Then single vibrations from the phone started at intervals.

Unable to stay in denial that it was time to start his day, Raphael grumbled, sat up, and checked the phone again.

Deathwish: We need to talk
Deathwish: This whole thing with Feral is so much bigger than we thought
Deathwish: We snuck into his place last night and omg what a nightmare
Raph: Stop texting
Raph: How secure do you think these things are? There's a reason we change phones every month
Deathwish: Sorry. Can we meet up today?

A long, weary sigh escaped Raphael's lips. He'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep after the incident last night. He'd also arranged a meeting today with Xever, the one who ran their drug network.

Raph: I'm busy today. How about tonight?
Deathwish: I work tonight and can't risk pissing anyone off by calling in
Raph: It can't wait for tomorrow?
Deathwish: No

Goddamnit, it was going to be a long day. To hell with it, he'd have to kill two birds with one stone.

Raph: Meet me at The Bunny Run in at 11:30am
Deathwish: The strip club? For real?
Raph: It'll be empty and I already have a meeting set up there for later. Destroy your phone, I'll bring you another burner
Deathwish: OK

Raphael rubbed his eyes and decided to go wake Karai up in the most obnoxious way possible as punishment for ditching him last night. That plan was sadly thwarted, as Karai was already up, dressed, and sitting on the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal. Hachiko was lying below her dangling feet, tongue lolling to one side as he grinned his canine grin at Raphael.

"Glad one of us got some sleep," he grumbled.

"Oh, come on, Raph," Karai said. "Those MOUSERS wore me down, then the stuff with my father and Stockman, and then the needle on top? I could barely stand once we got back. I hear you did very well last night."

"You know what happened?"

"I was briefed," she answered, her voice softening. "I am sorry I wasn't there. Are you okay?"

Raphael crossed the kitchen and rummaged around in the fridge for his breakfast. "It was a rough night," he admitted. "There's something weird going on. I'm meeting Xever and an informant in a bit, you should come along."

A ding on her phone distracted her, and she scowled at it around a mouthful of cereal. The pads of her fingers moved furiously on the touchscreen, and Raphael left her to it while he put out a typical breakfast spread for himself – a bowl of cereal, several hard-boiled eggs, a stack of toast and jam, and a muffin.

Once Karai set her phone down, she hopped off the counter and put her bowl in the sink. "An informant?" She leaned in close to Raphael and stole a piece of his toast, her voice the barest whisper. "The one who helps you out with Chinatown and is friends with our mortal enemies, that informant?" she asked, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she took a bite.

"The very same," Raphael replied dryly. "I want to have him out before Xever gets there, but he's also never seen his face, so it should be fine."

Karai laughed. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

oooooooooooooo

Raphael sat in the back of a four-door black SUV and stared out of the heavily tinted window. Karai was driving, basking in the freedom of Master Shredder being out of town. Normally they would have a chaperone driving them anywhere they needed to go, and while a few key Foot Soldiers had no doubt been tasked with keeping an eye on them and reporting back to Shredder, Xever's secret employee lounge and bar offered a unique privacy from prying eyes and ears.

Even the johns were not allowed past the curtain that separated the rooms and the lounge, as it was meant to be a haven for the dancers and escorts between jobs. As Xever and Raphael had struck up more of a friendship, they had started hanging out there often enough that Xever had entrusted a set of keys to Raphael. Initially, some of the girls were afraid of him, but once they realized he meant them no harm, they welcomed him whole-heartedly into their space. He suspected they saw him as something of a kindred spirit – an outcast, forced to work in the shadows, judged harshly and unfairly by a large portion of the general public, and a target for harassment based on appearances alone.

Karai pulled into the parking lot and drove around back, and Raphael noticed that Casey was already there, pacing nervously around the back entrance. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a faded gray hoodie, and despite the heat, his hands were jammed into his pockets and the hood was up to obscure his face.

"Real subtle," commented Karai.

Casey looked up like a deer in the headlights as Karai pulled into a parking spot right beside him, unable to see who was actually in the car through the tinted windows.

Raphael got out first and Casey actually looked relieved that this hadn't been a set up for his execution, until Raphael held up a black strip of fabric.

"Turn around," he ordered.

Casey looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Don't take it personally, this is standard for non-employees going into this section of the club," Raphael said impatiently. Casey looked like he was going to protest, so Raphael spun him by his shoulder, pulled the hood of his sweatshirt down, and wrapped the blindfold around Casey's eyes. He tied it securely, turned him so that they were facing each other again, and hoisted him over his shoulder like baggage.

"What the fuck, Raph, are you kidding me? This is standard?" Casey yelled blindly into his shell.

"No, this part is special for you because you're wasting my time and I have zero patience for your fuckin' whining."

Karai, who had been watching from the SUV, emerged and stifled a laugh with a hand over her mouth.

Many stairs, locked doors, and complaints later, Raphael dumped Casey unceremoniously on a shag area rug in the gaudy lounge. Casey hopped up immediately, ripping the blindfold off and looking like he was spoiling for a fight, only to come face to face with Karai. His jaw dropped.

Raphael had already sat himself at the bar, and watched as Karai grinned as if she were watching a circus monkey.

"This is my partner, Karai," Raphael introduced.

"You never mentioned that your partner was a gorgeous young lady," Casey swooned. "Pleased to meet you," he said, taking Karai's wrist and bowing as if to kiss her hand, "my name is….ooof!"

In a flash, Karai had him flipped and pinned to the floor, a kunai to his throat. "Casey Jones," she finished for him. "Do not touch me."

"I'm sorry," he wheezed.

Raphael watched impartially as she let him go and took a seat at the bar to his right. Casey got to his feet and struggled to find his dignity, then abandoned it swiftly when he came over and looked behind the bar.

"Hell yeah, that's the good stuff," he exclaimed, getting right in there and pouring himself a glass of bourbon.

"It is 11:40am," Karai said in disbelief.

"Lady, I've barely slept in two days and you wouldn't believe the shit I had to deal with last night," Casey said dramatically.

"I'll drink to that," Raphael said, feeling as bone-weary as Casey looked. "Pour me one."

"Seriously?" Karai said, looking at Raphael pointedly. Then her phone dinged again, and for about the fifth time today, she swore at it in Japanese and started furiously mashing the screen with her fingers.

"What is going on with you?" Raphael asked, starting to get irritable about it.

"I'm in an online auction that ends in about twenty minutes, and this asshole keeps outbidding me!"

"For what?"

"A katana."

Raphael squinted at her. "We have an entire collection of katana."

"I want this katana," she insisted.

Raphael put his hands up and made a face.

He shifted his attention over to Casey, who was sitting to his left and sipping bourbon quietly, the dark circles under his eyes extra obvious in the dim lighting. Raphael pulled a new burner phone out of his belt and slid it over to him across the polished bar. "Just for a refresher, do not say someone's real name, especially if you are admitting to breaking and entering into their goddamn house."

Casey sighed. "Point taken. Do you need a code name, too?"

"No, I technically don't exist."

"Did you give me a code name?" he asked. "Is it cool?"

"It is not," Raphael said.

"It's Deathwish," interjected Karai.

Casey grinned. "That's so metal."

Raphael rubbed his eyes and took a long sip of bourbon. This guy was insufferable. Time to get back on track. "Just tell us what you know, Jones. I'd like to have you out of here before my next meeting."

Casey's eyes flicked quickly over to Karai, and he hesitated.

"Anything I know, she knows," Raphael said reassuringly.

Casey took a deep breath. "I found out Feral was going to be away for the evening, so the guys and I took the opportunity to take a look around. I went in with Don. We found a case of those darts the Purple Dragons used to take you out, and it looked like he was making more. This guy is scary as fuck, totally sadistic. He had all these animals in cages that he's experimenting on, just a complete horror show." Casey paused to finish his glass and poured another, his hand trembling with nerves and exhaustion as he tipped the bottle.

Raphael smelled the anxiety coming off of him, heard his erratic heartbeat, and watched the pallor settle across his face. Casey, who was friends with mutants, a vigilante that worked secretly among enemies, who had charged into a gunfight with a hockey stick and later threatened Raphael with his own gauntlet, was barely keeping his composure at the very memory. From that limited knowledge of the young man, Raphael knew that this experience was so much worse than anything Casey would be able to articulate, and he likewise took a burning gulp bourbon to chase the ice from his nape.

"Feral has already captured a mutant," Casey finally continued. "He used to be a scientist and was exposed to the mutagen, and it turned him into an ape-man with psychic abilities, which is probably why he's unconscious in a stasis pod."

Raphael and Karai exchanged bewildered looks with one another, but he could tell that Casey was not lying.

"I know," Casey huffed with a sad smile, "it sounds ridiculous, but it gets crazier. Donnie copied a shit-ton of files from Feral's computer, and it turns out he's the one that is making Flip."

Raphael stiffened. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, and it's one hell of a recipe."

"And this was last night?"

"Yes."

"Some of our Foot Soldiers were attacked by the turtles last night," Raphael said suspiciously. "So when exactly did all of this happen?"

"We got back to the city before midnight. Leo and Mikey did a quick patrol before coming in for the night, and they were attacked by Foot Soldiers, not the other way around," Casey said firmly. "They were defending themselves."

"Leo almost gutted one of them, she needed emergency surgery," Raphael growled.

"She? There's female Foot Soldiers?" Casey asked.

Raphael almost punched him right then and there for that being the information his brain picked out as important, but settled for a killer stare.

Casey shifted uncomfortably under the weight of it. "Look, you have to know by now that they try not to seriously injure people. Even people trying to kill them."

"And you have to know," Raphael said darkly, leaning forward into Casey's space, "that despite their best efforts, your friends are still killers, just like their Master. Some of our people come back in body bags or die of their wounds. Chew on that the next time you're tempted to call me the evil brother."

From elsewhere in the building, Raphael heard a door open and close. "Fuck," he breathed into Casey's face, then sat back.

He glanced over at Karai, who was watching them raptly. She seemed to be enjoying this way too much.

"Xever is here. Do not speak about the turtles," Raphael warned Casey. "He's high-ranking enough that if he knew who you were, I might not be able to keep up my side of our deal."

"Jesus Christ, you brought me here with Xever?" Casey whispered angrily.

"Who the hell have you brought into my club?" demanded Xever as he stomped into the lounge seconds later.

Raphael had texted him a head's up in hopes that he wouldn't be angry, but so far it wasn't going well. "I told you, an informant," he said. "He couldn't meet any other time and it was urgent."

Xever continued his warpath to stand behind the bar, lean over it, and get into Raphael's face. "I trusted you. Give me the keys back, now!"

Raphael pulled the keys out of his belt and tossed them onto the bar between them without breaking eye contact or backing away. "Look at me, Xever, where the hell else am I supposed to go? I don't have a lot of options in public and all of our safe houses are bugged. I knew no one would be here at this time."

Xever grabbed the keys and pocketed them. "Who is he?"

"Italian mafia," Raphael said smoothly.

Xever scoffed, finally standing up straight and giving Casey a once over. "Mafia rato," he spat at him as if he were swearing, sliding the bottle of bourbon away.

Raphael was absolutely too tired for this shit. "There are more important things to focus on, Xever. He knows where Flip is being produced. Our own people are using and dying right under our noses."

That took some of the fight out of Xever, but he was clearly still agitated. "Fine. Let's talk."

"Before we get into it," Raphael said to Xever, "I need to know. Is the Foot involved in any way in funding, backing or distributing Flip?"

"No," he replied, "and I haven't had any luck tracking down the supplier. For something so new to the market, it is in very high demand. If it didn't have such a high fatality rate, I might have been interested, but killing almost fifteen percent of your customers on first use is just bad business."

"It's being produced by Dr Victor Feral, who founded a huge pharmaceutical company called BIO-Tech," Casey piped up.

Xever waved his hand. "Everyone knows BIO-Tech, they're global. Why would the founder of a multi-billion dollar company need to make street drugs?"

"I assume to fund the really shady research he's been doing with mutants at his secret lab," Casey said with a shrug.

"Makes sense," said Karai. "Huge revenue stream without accountability. His company, on the other hand, would be subject to audits and regulations."

"And how did you come by this information, rato?" Xever asked.

Casey gave him a sour look. "The base drug for Flip is ketamine, and I've been delivering it from the Vizioso's to Feral's house. I didn't know until yesterday though," he quickly added.

"So you're an ass," muttered Raphael.

"I think you mean mule?" Karai questioned.

"I think I mean both," he replied snarkily, making Karai snort in a giggle.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," said Casey. "You want to know what the other main ingredient is? Mutant's blood. Specifically the kind that was mutated with the green ooze, like you and Bradford." He knocked back the rest of his glass and set it loudly on the bar, as if to accentuate his point.

Xever narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "How do you know about Bradford?"

"Dude doesn't exactly keep a low profile," Casey said, throwing up his hands.

Raphael watched as the wheels turned in Xever's head, trying to place Casey's voice, and held his breath.

"You seem very familiar," Xever said, his voice dangerously somber. "Like someone else who doesn't keep a low profile…hockey brat!"

Fuck, Raphael swore internally as Xever lunged for Casey and barreled him off of the bar stool. They grappled briefly on the floor, but Xever pinned Casey in quick order and swung out the blades of his butterfly knife.

Raphael slid from his stool and gripped Xever's forearm in his fist before he could bring the knife down.

"Stop," Raphael said firmly.

Xever struggled to free his arm without looking away from Casey. "I'm going to filet you until I get all of the information my Master has been looking for all these months, you little shit."

Casey's eyes bugged in fear as he tried to scramble out from under Xever, but Raphael simply lifted Xever by his arm, turned on his heel, and dropped him.

Xever sprang back to his feet, looking absolutely livid, and pointed a finger at Raphael. "And you brought him here?! What were you thinking? Does Master Shredder know who this 'informant' of yours is? Because I think he would want to know."

"Does he know who all of your informants are, Xever? Would he approve of every cop you suck up to, or every drug lord you do business with?"

"But he's with them," Xever insisted through clenched teeth, trying to duck around Raphael and attack Casey once again.

Raphael caught him, and was met with a barrage of kicks and a close call with the butterfly knife near his cheek. His eyes went white as he snapped a quick elbow into Xever's face, making the man's knees buckle and a stream of blood to trickle slowly from one nostril.

"He's with me," Raphael snarled, holding Xever up by his vest. "He works for me, and that means he's under the Foot's protection."

"That doesn't count when the person actively works against our interests and you know it," Xever hissed.

"I don't care who he fights for or who he's friends with, when we aren't in direct conflict, he is under my protection as long as he is useful. He has a lot of connections we don't."

Xever wiped the streak of blood from under his nose and shook his head. "This will end very badly for all of us if Shredder finds out."

"He probably wouldn't like the idea of me hanging out at your brothel, either," Karai said to Xever while looking at her fingernails. "You didn't bring me here, but you also haven't asked me to leave." She looked at Xever and smiled sweetly. "Maybe it's in everyone's best interests if we just hear out what this random Mafia nobody has to say and get on with our day."

"Unbelievable," huffed Xever. "I'll play along this one time, but I will show no mercy the next time we meet," he said to Casey.

Casey, still sitting on the floor with his back against the wall while this had all played out, just shrugged. "Wouldn't expect you to."

Raphael extended a hand down to Casey and helped him up. Everyone sat back down and the tension eased the slightest bit.

"You were saying, about mutant blood?" Raphael prompted Casey.

"Sure, yeah. Whatever." Casey closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm no scientist, so I'll try to explain as best I can. It's not quite the blood, it's the mutagen in the blood. It has different properties once it has mutated someone, but it can still be isolated. That is what Feral was working with, doing all these experiments on animals to see what uses it might have. Turns out if you bind it with ketamine, the result is a temporary boost to energy, strength, and pain resistance. Sometimes also extreme aggression. In about twelve percent of the test subjects, their bodies were more sensitive to that tiny bit of altered mutagen, and it was fatal."

"Seems to be the same in humans," Raphael said. "The doctor I talked to last night said they can't do anything for the ones who react badly, they go into multiple organ failure, one system after another."

"So, do you think we can take him down?" Casey asked.

The room went silent. "What was that?" asked Raphael. "What do you mean, take him down?"

"You know, take him out, expose him, wreck his lab, anything?"

"What makes you think we could even do that?" Karai asked.

"I dunno," Casey said, looking disappointed. "You're a powerful organization, you know people, you have firepower, an army. Aren't they competition? A danger to the mutants in the Foot?"

"We can't just go and assassinate a man who is that well-known and with that kind of power," she laughed.

"While it is useful to know that there isn't a new cartel in town," Xever said, "waging open warfare on someone from a legitimate pharmaceuticals company and the mafia would be suicide for us. Unless they tried to make a move against the Foot, we can't step in and start a war."

Casey ran his fingers through his long, dark hair, clearly stressed.

"Now, it's time for you to go," Xever said. "All of you."

This time Casey didn't argue when Raphael tied the blindfold around his head and nudged him into a guided walk.

"I am sorry," Raphael said to Xever as they left. "I really didn't know where else to go. It won't happen again."

Xever just pursed his lips disapprovingly and watched them leave.

Once outside again, Raphael took a moment to enjoy the fresh air before taking off the blindfold.

Casey looked reluctant to leave. "Do you think there is any way we can rescue Rockwell, or expose what is happening with Flip?" he asked.

Raphael and Karai exchanged glances.

"What he is doing is wrong," Casey said, his voice almost pleading.

"I can't think of anything that wouldn't make you an immediate target," Raphael replied. "If anyone raids that lab or it's leaked to the media, the mob is going to assume it was you. You're the only one not in their inner circle that had access to the drugs and the property."

"Just keep doing what you've been doing," Karai advised. "Keep your head down, work, and do your usual deliveries. If you start acting weird or refusing, they are going to 'disappear' you."

"Great, can't wait for my shift tonight," said Casey with false enthusiasm. "And, uh, thanks for sticking your neck out for me."

Raphael shrugged. "Xever will calm down eventually. For what it's worth, I don't think he will tell anyone else about you."

"Hey, um…tomorrow is my day off, and usually Mikey comes to hang out for a while and watch the game. He can't make it this week, did you want to come over and watch some baseball and have some beers since I got you kicked out of the one place you can relax?"

Raphael shifted uncomfortably. "He'll get over it, really…"

"Yes, he would love to!" Karai said enthusiastically on his behalf. Raphael gave her cut-eye but she ignored him. "Raph used to love watching baseball."

"Uh, cool," Casey said awkwardly. "See ya around six." He gave them a little wave and walked away, hood up and head down.

As soon as he turned the corner of the building and was out of sight, Raphael angrily grumbled, "Why would you do that?"

"It'll be good for you to get out and forget about things for a few hours. You obviously like him, it's okay to make a friend."

"I do not like him," Raphael hissed. "He is the most insane and irritating human being I've ever encountered."

"He's absolutely appalling," Karai agreed, "but I have to admit, he is quite amusing. And the way you protected him from Xever? He's with me, rawr," Karai imitated in a growly voice, making claws with her hands. "Just riveting macho drama."

Raphael retreated into the car without retort, tired and grumpy. He pulled out his phone to check the time and it was only 12:36pm. It really was going to be a long day.

Author's Note: For anyone who might be triggered by animal cruelty (like me), I want to note that there will not be detailed or graphic depictions of experiments done on animals in future chapters. The mention in this chapter was only to establish the sadistic nature of Dr Feral towards non-humans, which is a major part of his character, even in the game he was originally created for.

Much love to anyone still reading, I'm really trying to stay in a good routine for writing.