Hello everybody! Ready to get back to the fun? Let's go!

Michelangelo sighed as he slowly lifted his arms above his head in a languid stretch. The sun was rising, alerting his internal alarm clock that it was about seven in the morning, and mikey needed to start on breakfast so that their small family could begin training at nine. If they had been at home, then right about now Leo's alarm clock would be shrieking through the lair, prompting the eldest to shuffle to the youngest's door and give a weary knock before doing a zombie walk to the bathroom. Mikey would go about the arduous task of waking up, while Leo would take care of his morning bathroom visit, then go downstairs to begin brewing a pot of tea, as well as turning on the coffeemaker. Their day would begin once the orange clad ninja was downstairs, and sleepily mixing pancake batter while watching over the sizzling eggs frying on the stovetop.

However, they weren't at home, and Leonardo's alarm clock was blessedly left in his bedroom. Which meant that Mikey didn't have to make breakfast at the butt crack of dawn. In fact, he didn't have to wake up at all.

Rolling over with a happy hum, Michelangelo scrunched his pillow into a more comfortable shape under his cheek before settling back into the soothing plush of his bedroll. The turtle's breaths began to even out into a slow, peaceful rhythm, but the baby pursed his lips in frustration when his form gave a strange jolt. Sleep, his normally stalwart friend, was proving elusive. A creeping restlessness afflicted his body, making his legs twitch, and his heart skip a beat. An odd urgency that pricked at the back of his mind, while keeping the silky soft folds of sleep at bay. Mikey whined, rolling back to his other side, punching his pillow for good measure then heaved a breath as he clenched his eyes shut, but to no avail. His legs gave another twitch. The youngest knew he was still sleepy, could feel it in the heavy weight holding his eyelids in place, and making the back of his head spin as it yearned to sink into the softness of his pillow and blankets. However, every time he was about to fall, his body would jerk as an instinctual alarm blared at him to wake up, warning him that something was amiss.

However, nothing was amiss. He was camping with his brothers. What could possibly be wrong? Michelangelo rolled to his back, flailing his arms and legs under the blanket in a silent protest, a guttural whine echoing in his closed mouth from the base of his throat at the unfairness of it all. They're on vacation. He wasn't supposed to be dealing with the weird premonitions, he was supposed to be off duty! He was supposed to be relaxing and having fun with his brothers this week. Why did the universe seem to have it out for them every time they went on vacation? The youngest gave another angry kick, trying in vain to shake out the energy coursing through him so he could go back to sleep.

Nope, still wasn't working.

Donnie heaved a sigh at the loud movement, loud to a ninja at least, especially ninja as attuned to their teammates as they were. The scientist was also enjoying the opportunity to sleep in, and Mikey's tantrum wasn't conducive to that goal. "Mike," the purple warrior groaned sleepily over his shoulder, shell to his baby brother, "stop moving and go back t'sleep."

"I can't," Michelangelo groused, "I'm trying, but my brain won't shut up."

Blankets rippled as Donatello snorted in amusement, "I can empathize," he slurred, brown eyes still shut as he began to slip back into sleep, "but….jus' try some more….quietly."

The orange masked terrapin tried; he really did. Rolling onto his stomach, burying his beak into his pillow and pulling his blankets up around his ears, Mikey gave this last effort everything he had, but still, as soon as he was about to slip into sleep his brain would screech that something was wrong. The youngest gave a sobbing whine into the plush of his pillow, frustration nipping at the edges of his consciousness until the turtle burst with an angry roar onto his knees from his bedroll. Raphael gave an answering growl, sleepy topaz eyes opening to merely half mast, all to aim a poisonous glare at the youngest.

"Mikey," he snarled, "we don't got any trainin' ta do, we're on vacation, so why are ya actin' like a head case when ya could be sleepin'? Or, more importantly, when I could be sleepin'?!"

"I can't help it!" Michelangelo whined, shoulders drooping in guilt at waking up his brothers, "but my turtle sense is tingling, and I can't go back to sleep!"

Raphael drew in a deep breath, making the quilt covering him swell then billow as the hothead let out a calming exhale. Out of all the turtles, other than Leo, Raph had changed the most. He had become much more levelheaded, hearing their leader out and not being as reckless. He still had his moments, of course, but they were a lot less than they used to be. Plus, he was more understanding with his brothers, particularly Mikey, especially after being turned human. Something about seeing the youngest in such a small, fragile form made the older brothers much more protective and less inclined to disregard his complaints. So, this morning was yet another example on the brawler wanting to bite Mikey's head off, but instead chose to take a breath and consider what was said.

It's long been accepted that their baby brother was borderline psychic. What with the dream he had about where Leo was being held in the nexus, not to mention the way he could read their moods like one of his comic books. So, if Michelangelo was saying his instincts were blaring, they should trust him and check. Worst case scenario, kid had a bad dream, and he was worrying over nothing. All it would cost is twenty minutes of sleep, if the coast was clear, they could go back to their bedrolls, and enjoy their first lazy day camping.

"Fine," the brawler heaved with a mighty exhale of patient tolerance, "lemme get Fearless and we'll check on yer 'turtle sense'."

"That may prove difficult," Donnie winced, having finally sat up from his bedroll and pointing a green finger in the direction of where their leader was supposed to be, "considering Leo isn't sleeping, in fact, he isn't here at all."

Mikey's blue eyes widened, his gut beginning to churn with nausea from a cold premonition that settled heavily on his shoulders, "I knew something was wrong," the youngest whimpered, "something always goes wrong when we go on vacation!"

"Calm down, Mikey," Raph sighed, "maybe he's just doin' some early mornin'trainin' or somethin'?"

The youngest quirked an eyebrow at his brother, "Early morning training that he couldn't do perfectly fine, right here?" He scoffed, "It may be his last week on the bench, but he's still not allowed to do any training beyond meditation and morning stretches, maybe some basic katas, but nothing that would require complete privacy."

"Unless he wasn't following the doctor's orders, and was doing more complicated exercises," Donnie smirked, "it wouldn't be the first time."

Raphael stood with a soft groan, lookin around the bedroll and then towards the tent, "Donnie might be right, even his katana are gone," the brawler shrugged, "we know he'd never go off on his own if he knew it was dangerous, so he'll probably be back in time for breakfast."

"Yeah, maybe," Mikey wasn't convinced, the youngest pursed his lips thoughtfully, "but, the last time we decided to wait around on him coming back from training, he was put into a coma by the Foot. And the time he went off on his own into the forest while we were playing tag, we waited until nightfall, and by then he'd been taken and hid by the skin walker. I don't know guys, I don't feel comfortable waiting around, not this time, not after everything we've been through."

Donatello cast a concerned brown gaze over to his brother, only to find liquid gold eyes peering back at him, equally concerned. The older siblings shared a nod of agreement, Michelangelo had a point. Every time they chose to wait around, hoping that Leo was okay, something terrible happened. They needed to be more proactive, because if they weren't, had they really learned anything at all from their past failures?

"Let's split up," Donnie stated, tone firm and determined, "keep your shell cells on hand, and report anything you find."

Red and orange gave quick nods of approval, then all three shot into the tree line, muscles rippling under green skin as they disappeared into the underbrush. Michelangelo sped through the trees, channeling every bit of focus into his surroundings, trying to find any evidence of a trail left behind by Leo. However, after almost twenty minutes of searching, he quickly caught on to the fact that hat was easier said than done. The youngest sighed, angrily surmising that this was an endeavor built on futility as their leader never left a trail. Leonardo was the epitome of what it means to be ninja. He was silent as a ghost even in their own home and had mastered moving silently through trees and bushes during their stay in the Cretaceous period, footsteps not even bending a single blade of grass, so to think he'd throw away his training and leave a trail this late in life would be dumb. Orange mask tails drifted to rest on the turtle's carapace as Mikey slowed his sprint into a gentle trot.

He needed to be smart about this. Leo had taught him meditation techniques that opened the path to seeing short glimpses of past events. He said it was how he'd found them when he'd come home from Japan to find the lair wrecked, and his family missing. They'd never really practiced it though. Mikey groaned, while useful, he didn't know how to use that technique. What else did he have? Maybe if he tried to home in on Leo's energy, maybe get a feel for the direction he went? Closing his eyes, the youngest focused on his brother's chi, sapphire blue flames that wrapped around his brother's energies with the warm protective strength he was known for. A spark, then warmth pooled in his stomach, and Michelangelo slowly opened his eyes. At first, he saw nothing, just felt a vague impression to turn a few degrees to the right and walk forward. Then, after several yards of merely following a vague impression in his spirit, that was when he made his discovery.

A spot of blue, shimmering like a ghost on the bark of a tree.

It looked almost similar to the will-of-the-wisps that Merida followed in the movie Brave, but there wasn't a trail of them to follow and it wasn't really shaped like them either. In fact, it almost looked like a handprint, a three fingered one. Leo must have walked past here and placed a hand on the tree as he paused to admire it. Mikey found himself mirroring the gesture, then turned his eyes to the trail ahead. Sure enough, another piece of blue energy glimmered in the pale morning light, a footprint heading deeper into the forest. Excitement filled Mikey as he realized that he was genuinely on to something, and the youngest burst into a run, following the ghostly trail left by his big brother.

Uncaring of the trail he himself was leaving behind, Michelangelo sped through the trees, movements smooth as gossamer as he flitted through the shadows. The feeling in his stomach was growing stronger, to the point that it was almost painful. He must be getting close. Gritting his teeth, the orange clad ninja increased his speed into a full-on sprint, fearful worry churning his stomach alongside the strange feeling guiding him to his brother. Another hundred or so yards, and the tree line suddenly opened into a meadow. Tall grass sprinkled with wildflowers dancing in the breeze as the sun began to top the trees and spread its warmth to the clearing. The youngest panted, shoulders heaving as he searched for another clue, but found he didn't have to look long.

A large section of the meadow had been trampled down, by many different types of feet if the tracks were anything to go by. Mikey trotted to the area, crouching down to examine the grass. He could identify at least five different sets of footprints, one being light and dainty, while the others were heavy, leaving behind deep imprints into the grass. What was most startling, though, was that they weren't human. The feet were clearly webbed. Mikey felt his heart catch in his throat, there had been a battle here, he was almost sure of it. The youngest crept forward in a crawl, careful not to disturb the tracks, searching for evidence of his brother. While Leo was good, even he couldn't fight a battle and not leave behind some proof that he'd been there. Even as that thought crossed his mind, Mikey released a startled cry as he found what he'd been searching for.

An imprint of a turtle shell laid out on the grass, and near the head, the broken tip of Leonardo's katana gleamed in a streak of sunlight. Shaking hands fumbled on his belt, and as Mikey licked dry lips, he called his brothers, "Guys, something bad happened, I think Leo's been kidnapped."

…..

In a dark and dank cell, Leonardo slowly regained consciousness. Sapphire eyes fluttered open, only to blink, then blink hard again when he realized he couldn't see. Not the slightest bit of light illuminated the room, leaving him in pitch black darkness, and to make matters worse, it was cold. A disconsolate whine built in the back of his throat, his subconscious drawing unwanted parallels to a certain cellar in his past. A shudder of horror shook his frame, jittering across his shoulders and shaking him all the way down his fingertips and to his toes. The sensation presented another problem. He was strapped down, to a chair, again.

Leonardo attempted to pull in a calming breath, but his chest stuttered as it caught in his throat and made him choke. The searing burn of mind numbing terror scorched its way down his craw, even as harsh shivers slunk down his spine. Leo bit his lips, willing them to stop trembling, but felt his chin wrinkle in protest. Why did this always happen to him? This was supposed to be a week spent camping with his brothers, how did he manage to get himself back in a situation like the last time he was abducted?! A groan, riding on a sob, echoed behind clenched teeth. It was really messed up that he could say he's been kidnapped, and praying to be rescued by his brothers, more than once.

Another shudder convulsed through the terrapin, and Leo felt the sting of tears building in the corners of his eyes. However, they only succeeded in enraging him at how weak he'd become to something as nonsensical as being tied to a chair. No, he needed to stop this spiral before it got out of control, his brothers had been helping him overcome his triggers, this was just another day of training. The turtle gave himself a firm mental shake, commanding his mind to pull itself together. It was just a chair. He may be tied down to it, and he might be in a freezing dark hole again, but that wasn't something to lose his wits over. He was stronger than this. It was just a chair. It was just. A freaking. CHAIR. He was going to be rescued by his brothers, and everything was going to be fine. They weren't in the nexus, and providing his shell cell was still operational, then even if turned off, Donnie could track his location. He just needed to be patient.

Pulling in a stuttering breath, the young leader held it while counting his heartbeats, before slowly blowing it out. Repeating the process, Leo felt the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears lessen, until it was back to a slightly panicked throb. The quick and shallow pumps of the organ stung in his chest cavity, and Leo winced. He would need to keep an eye on that. Donnie had mentioned worries about long term repercussions from his heart giving out in the caves, that Leo might struggle with slight issues, should he get in dangerous situations that would make his heart overwork itself. The azure turtle didn't like the sound of that, and he'd been putting off talking to Doctor Lowrey about it, because despite it being childish, he secretly hoped that if he ignored it then the problem will just go away on its own. Not that that ever worked for him before.

However, he didn't have a lot to do about it now, besides try to maintain a measure of calm. He was ninja, and while he may be captive, that didn't mean he was done for. If escape was possible, then Leo would try every avenue until he found and achieved it. All he had to do was concentrate. Like the time back in the cellar, Leonardo began testing the straps holding him to the chair and was pleased to note that they were just plain, ordinary leather. Last time his bonds were sentient hair, otherwise he'd have escaped long before his brother's rescue. Jerking his shoulders, the turtle twisted and writhed, working at the straps, but his progress was quickly interrupted.

The room exploded with light, crystals glowing with a brilliance that was only magnified when reflected off the pure white, seemingly porcelain, or alabaster walls. Leonardo's eyelids clenched shut, refusing his demands to open as his eyes protested sharply against the drastic change. Lids fluttering, eyes slitted as he fought to gain even the smallest glimpse of his surroundings. Heavy footsteps thumped up to his chair, the ninja held back a startled gasp when a clawed hand grabbed the leather strap arcing across his chest, pulling him nearly off the chair, making the straps bite into his wrists and forearms. Leonardo grimaced as hot breath brushed his right cheek, and finally pried one eye open enough to find himself staring into a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Giving a gulp of apprehension, the turtle slowly raised his line of sight, and was shocked to see a creature that was almost like a humanoid fish. Similar to the merpeople they'd met before, but also startlingly different. This one was sleek and muscular, his skin a vibrant yellow with black stripes accenting neon orange eyes, while a spiny ridge that started from the bridge of his flat nose, went up the forehead, created something of a crest that mohawked down the back of his head. Leo's eyes widened as he realized that he knew this fishman, and most unfortunate, he'd fought and defeated him the night before.

The merperson pulled the terrapin closer toward his sharkish teeth, before snarling out a guttural language, replete with clicks and yowls. Leonardo's brows furrowed, and he shook his head, "I don't understand what you're saying," he stated, keeping his voice neutral, "I'll answer any questions you have, but I don't speak your language."

A snarl was his captor's response, the merman baring his teeth ever more ferociously, before giving a heavy swallow, making the muscles in his throat audibly rearrange, "What," it rasped in a rumbling growl, "what tribe are you from? Who sent you to spy on us? Why did you interfere with the ritual?!"

Tribe? Spy? Ritual?!

Leo gaped, mouth opening and shutting uselessly as he scrambled for something to say, "I'm not part of any tribe," he ground out, grimacing in defiance despite losing feeling in his fingers at the awkward way his bonds cut into his arms, "I don't even know who you are, or what kind of ritual you're talking about."

"It is impossible that you are not part of any tribe," his captor snarled, "you are clearly not human, and you fight like a trained warrior."

"I'm a member of a very small clan," Leonardo suggested, "I'm their leader-."

The interrogator howled in rage, "Then you seek to overthrow our own King, and place yourself on his throne?!"

"No!" The turtle denied, tone vehement, "I would never want that!"

"Heh," the fishman scoffed, "so you say, but then why did you attack us last night?"

Good question. Sapphire eyes clouded over in confusion, why had he attacked them last night? His head throbbed as he struggled to pull up any memory from the night before. Flashes of scenes, disjointed and fuzzy, played before his mind's eye, warriors carrying sharp harpoons and spears, each one taking part in a massive all against all melee. Then another image, a flitting silver form, beautiful and lithe with neon green eyes, being tossed and thrown around, prompting a foreign feeling of fury to overcome his senses. Then, oddest of all, their gaze had met, and with a crackle of electricity the eyes had begged him for one thing, rescue. "She needed help," Leo murmured, half in confusion, half in wonder, "she was in danger, and she asked me to save her. I only wanted…to help her."

The merman reared back, his own features a grimace of bafflement, "Why would she ask you, a filthy outsider, to save her when she does not need saving?" He snarled, eyes narrowed and dangerous, "The idea is absurd! Now, I will ask again, who's tribe are you a part of, and why would you sabotage the ritual?!"

"I never meant to sabotage any ritual!" Leonardo spat, "I was enjoying a walk, that's it, when I heard the battle. When I saw what was happening, she asked me to help her, somehow, I don't know how, but she asked me to save her!"

Orange eyes gave a petulant roll, "Of course, she did," he sneered, "why wouldn't she want to be saved despite not being in danger. You pathetic outsiders will say anything to justify your attempts to destroy our clan, and I will not fall for your tricks, or your lies!"

"I'm not lying!" The turtle snarled, eyes hard and cold as an arctic glacier, "I'm a follower of Bushido, and lies do not become a warrior who values honor."

The merman stopped at that, face still full of distrust, but something else began to creep into the edges of his orange gaze. Something almost resembling a begrudging respect, however, the cynicism held firm, and the warrior all but threw Leo back into the chair, "You seem to believe your own words, at the very least," his growling voice rumbled, "however, whether you tell the truth or lie will be judged by our King. You will stand trial for your interference with our sacred ritual at noon. I suggest you consider your words carefully in the time you have."

"Trial?" Leo asked, opening his mouth to demand an explanation, "What do you mean? What ritual was even being done last night? I thought that the girl was in danger, it didn't look like any kind of ritual!"

"It was a sacred ritual, one that has been handed down amongst our people for centuries!" The fishman barked, although his bellow lacked the heat it held mere moments ago, "You had no right to interfere!"

The young leader sighed, head falling back against the chair, a wince briefly flashing across his face as he shuddered at the feeling of the straight back and arms of his current prison, but quickly regathered his composure, "Look," he said, tone heavy with exhaustion, "if it was a tribal ritual, then I apologize. It was neither my intention nor my mission to disrupt anything you consider sacred. I was on a moonlit hike and heard the sounds of a fight. When I got there, I thought the girl was in trouble, and needed help. I was only trying to protect her, that's it. On my honor as a warrior, and leader of my family, I hold no ill will toward you, or your people. I promise."

The merman paused, harsh features softening minutely, the claws on his webbed fingers retracting ever so slightly. It seemed that Leo's words were making something of an impact, and the turtle couldn't be more grateful. He needed someone on his side if he was going to survive this trial he was set to go through, and hopefully his interrogator might say something to his benefit that will see him released and heading back to his brothers.

"He's telling the truth,"

Both warriors jumped, startled by the gentle tone that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Leo turned his gaze from his captor, only for his jaw to once again drop in surprise.

A lithe figure with feminine curves, skin an ocean foam green, with navy blue tiger stripes, each lined in elegant silver, up her legs, across her sides, and decorating her cheeks. In the place of ears, iridescent fins, shimmering ivory like a pearl bobbed up and down daintily, while similar fins were attached to her thighs and calves. Full lips smiled gently on the porcelain doll features framed by hair black as midnight, as neon green eyes assessed their captive. A shimmering silver tunic was draped around the beautiful figure, accenting the long legs and lovely coloring. This was the girl whom he had saved the night before, she was the one whose gaze pleaded that he save her. Leonardo suddenly realized he was still gaping like a landed fish but found his mouth full of sawdust. She was stunning. He couldn't speak, could barely breathe, his face was burning with a furious blush and there was exactly zilch he could do about it. His brain had stopped functioning the exact moment he noticed her presence in the room.

His interrogator swiftly turned so to bow, his features solemn and respectful, "Princess," he rumbled softly, "I was merely questioning your kidnapper."

Wait….what?

"Princess?!"

Hmmmm…..our poor boy has gotten himself in quite a bit of hot water, hasn't he?

What do you think? Thank you for the theories, those who guessed the merpeople, you were mostly correct, well done!