Found
Another two hours passed as Raphael and Casey worked their way over to the waterfront. The relatively short distance took some time to cover since they were now stopping to interrogate every street contact they encountered. But once in the neighborhood, Silvy wasn't too hard to locate.
She generally stuck to one section, and Raph found her exitin' the same alley they used during their last rendezvous. Casey had veered off to chat with the area pimps, so Raphael stayed concealed until her latest customer was clear. Then stepped out at the end of the street and made his way toward her.
He hadn't mentioned it prior, but the thought of hooking up with Silvy wasn't as appealing as usual. Typically any strange feelings he was havin' dissolved into lust the moment he laid eyes on her, but this time he just experienced an odd stirring of unease. He couldn't tell if that was because he was all wound up in other ways, or if he was squeamish about her—now his family knew what they'd been up to.
She spotted him half a block away and her eyes lit up.
Huh. That's new.
Raph knew she liked him—as a john. He was easy to please, always paid upfront, and looked out for her and the other girls. But he'd never seen her this eager to meet with him before. There was a little bounce to her step as she sped toward him, and she spoke as soon as he was close.
"Hey, Big Guy! I've been lookin' for you!"
There's only one reason for that, an' it ain't my sexual prowess.
His eyes slid over their surroundings searching for the trouble that must be dogging her steps.
"Silvy," he greeted, tipping his helmeted head forward in a nod.
He'd checked his leathers and his pack before exiting the shadows. And he was annoyed by having to talk past the faceplate but the secrecy was necessary. Now, more than ever. They didn't want a hint of their search for Sharra to get back to the Foot, or anyone else.
"What's going on?" he asked. "I've been around but I haven't seen any trouble."
"Oh, uh, this is somethin' a little different than our usual riff-raff. I ain't seen no bad guys yet, but I'm afraid it's only a matter of time."
Raph stood a little straighter. "You expectin' someone in particular?"
"Yeah, but I'm tryin' to head them off, ya' know? So I- I kinda need a favor."
He frowned though she couldn't see it and tilted his head. Something was off about her tone. It took him a second to pin down that she spoke without her usual nasal simper. Her voice was solemn and not at all what he usually associated with her.
She's genuinely worried about whatever this is.
He didn't want yet another emergency situation to deal with right now, but his nature wouldn't let him shrug the trouble off. Silvy was there for him when he needed her. Duty demanded he take care of her in return.
"Ask," he urged, "Don't guarantee I can help, but I will if I can."
She smiled, "I've got someone who needs to disappear."
Raphael shook his head in disappointment. "I'll beat a guy up, but I don't do murder, Silvy."
"No, darlin'! Nothin' like that!" She laughed and the sound was the first expression of honest delight he'd heard from her. A noise shockingly at odds with her forced cries of pleasure during work.
"The problem's serious, but it ain't that serious... yet." She sobered. "Ya' see an old friend came by. She's being... well I was going to say stalked, but it's more like hunted. I thought you might help her vanish. You being so ninja-like an' all."
Raphael's whole body tensed.
Damn. She noticed too much last time. Shoulda waited til she was back on the street before hittin' the shadows.
"Don't know what you mean," he deflected.
"Don'tcha? Well, that's too bad. Took me a while to put things together, Mr. Mysterious, but I finally figured you out." She wagged a finger at his face shield, "Just like I said I would."
"Re-ally?" he drawled. He cocked his head casually but everything in him was preparing for a fight. "And what do you think ya' know?"
"Oh don't sound so worried. I won't spill your secret. I'm tryin' to hire you. We need your expertise. We'll pay a'course. In trade I mean. I'll give ya' time on the house, and she's got some top-notch techy skills that could totally profit someone like you."
"Silvy," he growled in warning. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
She eyed him carefully.
"I'm talking about you comin' outta retirement to help my friend... Nightwatcher."
Raphael stilled in the deadly manner of a predator before his muscles melted into a lazy ready stance. Slowly he reached inside his jacket and loosened a sai in its sheath. He didn't think Silvy would betray him on purpose, but she might be threatened—or tricked—into revealing him… He paused for a beat, then two. No one jumped out at him. Silvy didn't move. She stood there watching him with a smile on her face that would rival the Cheshire Cat.
"I'm flattered ya' think so highly of me," he grated in a dangerous tone, "but ya' got the wrong guy. Your friend will have to hire someone else."
Her face fell. "Really? Damn it, I was sure you were her vigilante! She'll be so disappointed."
"Her vigilante?"
Raph repeated the shocking statement, blindsided by the thought a woman would claim him that way.
In ANY way, really…
"Well, I wasn't gonna mention it, but Sharra's always had a thing for you— 'scuse me, I mean him—Mr. I am definitely not the Nightwatcher. She's been sighin' dreamily over him since she was sixteen years old."
Sharra? It can't be. Not MY Shay…
He tried to swallow his excitement, but how many women named Sharra could possibly need to disappear in New York City? Then the world stood still as the rest of what Silvy said registered.
Shay had a teenage crush... on me?
"Who did ya' say was after her?"
"I didn't. I didn't want to scare you off before ya' agreed to meet her."
He snarled, "Just tell me."
Her eyes clouded, "The Foot Clan."
His heart began to pound. That was the clincher. Silvy's Sharra and his had to be the same. And thank fuck she reached out to him. Anyone else would turn Sharra over to the clan in a heartbeat.
"I'll make it happen," he swore.
"How much time do you need?" she asked.
"Is she nearby?"
Silvy nodded warily.
"Give me an hour."
The hood of the recently parked car on the top floor of the garage on the Hudson was still hot. And Sharra curled like a cat over the spot. She didn't truly need it, but the warmth was comforting as she lingered anxiously in the shadows, gazing at the sky.
The plastic of the pager clenched tight in her hand creaked dangerously and she forced herself to put it away before she damaged it, though it had already served its purpose. Silvy had contacted her twenty minutes ago on the one-way digital device.
The message was short: 'Got him. 1 hour'.
Together they had concocted a plan. The location, the text, everything but the date and time were pre-arranged. Silvy's job was over. She'd done her part in hooking the guy. Now came the more dangerous part of the mission.
Meeting him myself.
If he really was the Nightwatcher, Sharra had already decided what she wanted to say. But if he wasn't, well her choices were going to depend on the read she got off the man. She could either try to secure his help or... run.
Either way, she wished she felt more presentable. In the last week, her bruises had blossomed. Huge swaths of purple and brown painted her forehead and chin. And somehow she got a black eye during the struggle because it swelled nearly closed.
And it's hard to look waiflike and vulnerable, or bat your eyelids pleadingly, when you can't open one.
She was also exhausted. Sleep was hard to come by these days, due to paranoia and pain. When it did deign to visit, it brought nightmares and some rather bizarre fever dreams. Last night's was a doozy. Out of all the possible mutant turtles her mixed-up head could have summoned, Leonardo appeared to keep her company.
Unlike her previous turtle hallucination, this one was visible as well as touchable, if still a bit see-through.
And, plot twist—he actually seemed to care about me.
He had soothed her to sleep with his mesmerizing voice and eased her pain with cool glowing hands.
Sharra blinked in surprise, just now recalling their unusual golden color. And Donatello's oddly specific question in her entryway, about what—exactly—had glowed on Mikey.
I wonder if glowing is an everyday thing for them...
Whatever the phantom Leonardo had done, when she woke this morning her face was miraculously recovered—somewhat. The bruises looked twice as old and half as bad, while her eye had resumed its regular shape and size. Though the healing was probably due more to the uninterrupted sleep than her 'imaginary' overnight companion, she resolved to thank him the next time he 'visited' regardless.
If I ever conjure a dream Leo again.
She chuckled at the idea but her hands fluttered over her bruised face; still wishing for some sort of makeup to cover the worst of her injuries—despite their recent improvements. Sharra wasn't vain, but she was anxious to make a good impression.
It's not every day you meet your high school celebrity crush...
Such silly thoughts made her snort. What this guy presumed about her looks didn't matter. Her only task tonight was to prove she needed his help. The contusions might even sway him because Silvy would have mentioned her confrontations with the Foot.
And nobody who tangles with them comes out looking pretty.
Still, Sharra fidgeted nervously, fiddling with her hair and smoothing her nicest sweater over her front. She had chosen to wear a chunky cable-knit navy blue one over light brown leggings for this meeting; tucking the too-short pants into cast-off sheepskin warmers. Ankle-high combat boots and her ubiquitous leather fingerless gloves finished the outfit. It certainly didn't scream 'bad-ass' but it wasn't as mousy as some of her ensembles.
Without a coat, she should have been freezing, especially this close to the river. But she hadn't had a chance to go thrifting for a new one yet, so she simply wore more layers. Besides, she generally didn't have a problem with cold. She ran a little hot on a normal day and her current fever was driving her temp up further.
The crisp night air, the peaceful slap of the water below, and other noises of the city settling down around her had just begun to soothe her frazzled nerves when the sound of raucous laughter riled her up again. Sharra froze in alarm as shouts and whoops followed. But after a few moments of careful listening, she decided they were coming from several levels down. Silently she counted.
One, two, three, four—shit, more than five separate people. Should I bail?
They didn't sound violent... yet. Mostly they sounded boisterous. And if she bounced, that was probably it for her chances with the Nightwatcher. This might be her only opportunity to gain his help.
Metal containers clanked over sounds of encouragement and the smell of gasoline wafted up outside the wall to wrinkle her nose. Choking, hissing, and sputtering to a background of light applause filtered up as well.
Ugh. Gang initiation.
At least stealing gas was a mild one. Presumably, they were working their way up some sort of checklist; easing the younger crowd into the fold. Sharra ran a hand over her face and decided to stay put as long as they didn't come up any further. But she was so distracted that she missed his arrival entirely.
Until motion in her peripheral vision jerked her head up.
A gigantic beast of a man occupied the center of the structure under a security lamp, turning his head as he scanned the lot. His thighs were as thick as tree trunks. His biceps were massive, too large for her to surround with both hands. And he was covered, head to fantastic boot in light-weight, flexible armor.
Sharra gasped at the magnificent sight.
If she had to guess, she would say the protective covering was designed along the lines of motorcycle leathers, pliable in all the right places for easy movement, but hard everywhere else. She could definitely see how Silvy would make the comparison. But he must wear something different when he visited the lady of the night because there was no way anyone could mistake this ensemble for anything but battle armor.
In all her days hanging out over the biker bar, Sharra had never seen anything similar. The hard-shelled pack on his back added to his substantial bulk. As did the chunky helmet and platform-like, metal-accented boots. But the smartly styled protection was not glossy and attention-grabbing. It was matte—all done up in blacks and greys. And she wouldn't have clocked him at all if he hadn't deliberately stepped out of the shadows.
Shutting her gaping mouth, Sharra slithered off the car. His helmet faceplate snapped in her direction before she even settled onto the pavement. He froze and Sharra hesitated next to the vehicle, staring across the intervening forty feet, trying to size up a man she couldn't see. She wished he would at least raise his visor, but suddenly realized that wasn't likely to happen.
Silly girl, his identity is a secret... And on second thought, he might not be too happy about Silvy outing him.
Her eyes skimmed over him again, this time ignoring the impressive gear and instead seeking clues to his mood. His hands were loosely curled at his sides, sans any sort of weaponry. His posture was relaxed. He didn't look like he was about to explode.
But he didn't move.
I guess it's up to me to start. I did set up this meet and greet.
She sucked in a deep breath, cast down her eyes, and took a few hesitant steps toward him until she was abruptly engulfed in light. Twin spots from either side of his faceplate zeroed in on her small figure, leaving nothing in shadow. Her arms instinctively rose to shield her eyes, but taking the hint, she dropped her hands to her sides and kept them palms front, fingers spread. She squinted against the brightness and turned a slow three hundred and sixty degrees so he could see she was unarmed.
As quickly as the light flared, darkness returned. Sharra blinked away the spots in her vision only to nearly suffer a heart attack. The Nightwatcher now stood right in front of her. He halted five feet away but she stepped back involuntarily, startled by the sudden change.
How- How did he move so fast in all that? And so quietly?
His head tilted and she imagined he was giving her face closer scrutiny.
Oh hell, he can probably see my racing pulse from there!
She couldn't help her heart rate. And the beat wasn't going to be slowing any time soon because up close, he was even more imposing. Her stomach fluttered as he watched her watching him—until unexpectedly, his fists clenched.
His first guttural words spewed forth—though she couldn't truthfully class them as speech. More like a string of what might have been curses, before fury mangled them into a horribly unrecognizable form. She flinched and the sound cut off mid-expletive. Since he didn't make any more forceful moves toward her, she could only assume he was angered by the injuries to her face.
Thank god he didn't glimpse me as I was last night! He would have gone ballistic.
When his fists loosened, she cleared her throat, then licked dry lips. She clasped her hands together in front of her to hide their shaking. "I'm addressing the Nightwatcher I presume?" she asked, trying to steer the meeting back on track.
There was really no mistaking him for anyone else. His accomplishments were legendary, and the descriptions of him, or at least his armor, were spot on.
Still, Father always said a formal introduction was the best one...
"My name is Sharra," she explained, "and I need your help. But" —his head straightened at the qualifier— "not if you don't want to give it. No matter what you decide, Silvy and I will never reveal you. In fact, I have no real idea of your identity. So, this is not blackmail. You can walk away right now. No harm, no foul."
She waited, holding her breath for him to respond. He regarded her for another few seconds before he gave a firm nod and took a single step toward her in approval.
He's going to help!
Sharra swallowed a giddy squeal and relaxed somewhat, although now she was beyond her little prepared address she was at a loss what to say. "O-ok. Good, that's good then, we got that all out of the way..." she rambled, unclasping her hands and clenching the hem of her long sweater instead.
"Umm... So... I don't really know what you need from me. Details I suppose, yes-details. I... was once a captive of the Foot clan, a long time ago, and... they did-things-to-me. And, uh... no. You don't want to... uh know about that, you-need-to-know-about-now. I hid for a while, but they found me again and hurt me, and now-they-want-to—"
His huge hand reached out and engulfed her elbow in the gentlest of grips. The flood of words ceased as if he had turned off a faucet.
"Shay. Breathe. It's gonna be ok."
This time his voice wasn't guttural. The tone was a deep and rumbling bass, reverberating between them like a lion's purr. It stirred a warm feeling awake inside her. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to examine too closely.
"Shay?" she asked gazing up into his faceplate.
He hadn't gotten the name from Silvy. No one had ever called her Shay in her life. It felt... elegant and intimate.
Sharra found herself blushing.
I can't believe he's already given me a nickname!
"It's gonna be ok," he repeated, ignoring her question. "I can remove any stray Foot we run across, and stash ya' somewhere. But I can't promise you safety... not until you tell me what safe feels like."
She stared up at him with wide eyes. She hadn't expected him to be so... empathetic. She licked her lips again as he released her arm.
"You mean, like, where I want to hide?"
"Sorta. Like how far do you wanna go? Out of the city?"
"No," she said immediately.
If I leave Mikey might never find me!
Again he nodded. "And do you need this whole fresh air and sunrises lark?" He waved a hand to the night sky. "Or would you be comfortable say, in a cellar or bunker? Someplace underground?"
This one made her hesitate. "I've always gravitated to the rooftops, but even there my safehouses are small windowless rooms I only leave at night. So... maybe underground is better? It'll break my pattern and throw them off."
"Oh, I'll throw 'em off alright. A building if I havta'."
She smiled at that. The grin stung with the state of her face but somehow also felt good.
"Thanks, big guy."
"Don't," he snapped back.
Sharra winced, leaning her head away from the harsh rejoinder. "Don't what?"
"Call me that."
"I can't have a nickname?" she pouted.
"Pick somethin' else," he replied. "Silvy uses d'at."
What? Oh. Ooooh. Best not to muddy those waters.
"Got it. Those words will never cross my lips again."
He gave a little harrumph and dropped back into his questions.
"I don't want to scare ya', but I may have to fight violently and move ya' around, or grab ya' and retreat depending on the sitch. You ok with bein' manhandled?"
This time she nodded more hesitantly. "I do have some PTSD," she said. "And sometimes things trigger me unexpectedly. So, well... there might be some screaming, especially at night. But I'll try to keep it down."
He gave her a long look and a nod. "Noted." was all he said and moved on. "You like bein' alone?"
"I'm no fainting damsel you have to worry about wilting if you have to leave for a few days."
He shook his head. "Not what I asked."
Sharra thought seriously about the question for a minute. "I've been isolated for a very long time. I know how to care for myself and accomplish shit, but... No. I don't want to be alone anymore." She smiled up at him shakily. "As long as the company is good, of course." She mock-punched his forearm bracer and winced shaking out her knuckles. Whatever material it was made from was harder than it looked.
"Ok," he rumbled softly, "I can give ya' all that."
Something about the way he said the words promised more than the minimal requirements they had just hammered out. It felt like the vow he wouldn't commit to before...
Safety. God, I want that. Almost as much as I want Mikey. Shit. Mikey.
"One more thing," Sharra piped up, "I don't need this to be long-term. I have someone to protect me, but my... my guy, he's injured. The Foot got him. But when he's better, he'll come for me and we'll both get out of your hair. Ok? And, err… Actually… His name is Mike. He's rather boisterous and hard to forget. From something he said, I thought you might know him?"
Silence fell and Sharra squirmed a bit, wondering if she'd said something wrong. She jumped a little when the Nightwatcher finally cleared his throat, "Before I answer that I got one more question for you."
She nodded and her breath caught as she noticed how close they stood. There was barely an inch between them now as she gazed up into his blacked-out visor.
"Do you trust me?"
"I better," she quipped, "I'm putting my life in your hands."
He grunted and shook his head. "Yes or no?"
She stared back intently, wishing she might read his eyes. Yet, despite his intimidating bulk and dehumanizing helmet, he hadn't been anything but courteous and understanding about the situation. He could have been pissed because they outed him. He could have been a creeper she had to flee from. He could have been a monster. But he was none of these.
He's not even the dick Silvy thought. Not to me.
"Yes."
He sighed. "Then promise not to freak out, ok?"
She raised a palm. She was going to chirp, 'Cross my heart!' but impulsively she placed her hand over his chest plate—his heart—instead of hers. She had to lift her arm up high to reach, but underneath the cool metal, she found the same rapid pulse of nervousness she felt. It stole her voice.
"I promise," she whispered.
For a second he clasped her forearms, grasping her elbows slightly as he dipped his head. Then he let her go and stepped back, opening his arms to the sides, fingers spread, as she had done at the beginning of their meeting.
Sharra stared at him, not latching on to whatever he was trying to tell her without words. He didn't turn, just flexed his hands until she focused her gaze on them.
There were only two fingers and a thumb on his gloves.
She froze.
Gradually, as if she might flee at a sudden movement, he reached up and gripped his helmet. He unhooked the strap and lifted it straight up before cradling it under one arm.
Sharra locked gazes with the Nightwatcher.
Before she realized what she was doing, she backed a pace. Then another. Then more—more quickly—until her butt slapped the car she had been sitting on and she could go no further.
His eyes were still a fathomless amber, full of passion and banded in red. But they were tempered with strain. His face wore a mask of tension as if he held himself back in every way.
"Sharra," he murmured, with the same soft purr vibrating his chest. "I ain't gonna hurt ya'."
She didn't move. This was too much to process in a split second. She needed more time...
No wonder Mikey perked up at the name, and they were all acting so weird. The NIGHTWATCHER was RAPHAEL! It ALSO explains why Silvy never saw him without his leathers! Though I don't even want to THINK about how he managed to have SEX in all that stuff and oh... god. At least I know they like sex now. But OH, GOD! I've had a crush on Mikey's brother this WHOLE TIME! And why the HELL do I STILL think he looks HOT in that armor... What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
"Sharra," Raphael called more urgently, though he didn't shift any closer, "Can you hear me? Can you move?"
Her mouth opened. Nothing but a squeak came out. She blinked rapidly and tried again.
"R- R- Raph?"
He heaved an enormous sigh of relief. "Thank ALL the fuckin' GODS! I thought you'd gone away again. Breathe Sharra. It's gonna be ok."
Yeah, he said that before, when he was still... what? Someone I trusted?
Slowly she shook her head at him until he did the only thing that made ANY sense to her in all this crazy.
He held out his hand and said, "Let me take you to Mikey."
Come on... You can do it... A little closer...
Sharra's hand inched towards Raphael's. Their fingertips brushed, and her palm was sliding across his. Any second now, she would grasp his hand.
He had to wait for that moment. Allow her to commit to the choice. To come to him.
Raph might have maintained the charade and taken her home right away. She had been ready to go with the Nightwatcher. But he didn't want to use the disguise any longer than necessary. This wasn't supposed to be a trick or a con. He wanted her fully aware of what was going on.
She is either with me —Raphael— every step of the way or not at all.
Though he had to admit using his brother's name as a lure felt like cheating.
If she chose not... well, he would have to come up with something else right quick. Because short of chucking his shell-cell at her and telling her to fuckin' call her boyfriend before the world ended, he didn't have much of a backup plan.
Fearless wouldn't have done things this way.
Leo, the ever-efficient strategist, would have swept her off her feet and taken her back to the lair without the reveal. Over his shoulder, if he had to. While the guys often accused Raph of rushing into things, Leonardo was really the one obsessed with expediency. He would have said 'get her home to Mike' and face the consequences afterward.
But such a maneuver didn't sit right with Raphael. He almost hadn't bothered with the old Nightwatcher armor in the first place, but he wanted something familiar, or at least positive, about his appearance for their meet. Otherwise, he feared she would run from him on sight.
If he had needed to return to the lair for it, he wouldn't have changed. But they were so near the old antique store where their 'retired' equipment was stored that it was only a matter of moments to let himself in and switch his gear. And the decision had been a solid strategic maneuver. Sharra acted far more relaxed around his persona than she had when faced with the reality of his mutant form. A little star-struck if he were being honest. A little flustered.
He almost frightened her away regardless. Raphael had held himself in rigid check from the moment he spied her laying on top of the car. But within seconds of her becoming aware of him, he made his first mistake.
The light.
He hadn't meant to blind her or to imply he didn't trust her. In fact, he was rather irritated she didn't have so much as a knife hidden about her person.
Hell, when we're back home I'll arm her myself an' teach her how to use it.
He was simply making sure the site was secure. Foot-Tech ninjas were practically invisible in their suits without another element like water to give them away. But a burst of unexpected light could expose their shadows. He hadn't wanted to approach until he was certain they were alone.
However, he almost lost his mind when he got near enough to focus on her face. The damage there made him want to rend the bastard who thrashed her limb from limb. The bruising was extensive and painful looking. And he could only imagine what her ribs must feel like.
The anger was so overwhelming, Raphael didn't think to edit the vile words escaping his mouth. Until Sharra's quick—frightened—intake of breath reminded him to reign in his temper. But he still only held onto it by the skin of his teeth.
Using her nickname was a mistake as well. He hadn't intended to ever share the private term he used for her in his head, but her emotional confession and the resulting rambling tugged at his heartstrings. She was so lost and confused—that he would have done anything, said anything, to make her more comfortable.
In that moment of weakness, it just slipped out.
And she did not seem at all unhappy about his perceived attachment until she discovered who he really was. Now, the conflicted young woman stared into his eyes as if trying to read his soul. She still hadn't made contact with his hand and her fingers were shaking as they reached for each other over five feet of concrete parking stall, treating the floor like lava.
From the outside, this probably looked ridiculous. But internally a fierce battle of wills raged. He wanted, no, he needed her to trust him—intently willing her to read that desire clearly in his eyes. And Sharra? She fought to overcome a lifetime of ill-treatment and conditioning. One that taught her Raphael was the enemy.
He had been, once.
But never again.
Her mere existence had fundamentally changed him… and his family. She challenged him to do better—to BE better—in a way no lecture or teaching ever could. As of this moment, he was her compatriot. Her guardian. Her champion. She had asked for his help with courage and grace, despite her fear. And if she could just take his hand, there was no way he'd ever let her down.
Even if Mikey weren't head over heels for her.
After what seemed like hours, Sharra blew out a breath.
She shut her eyes and closed her fingers tightly around his.
Behind them, all hell broke loose.
With an earsplitting crash, fragments of a glass bottle shattered at their feet. A wall of heat and flame washed over them like a crashing wave. And Sharra's sweater caught fire.
The blaze quickly died back to lick voraciously at their shoes, but two more jars followed. Sharra shrieked as smoke and gasoline fumes from what could only be a trio of Molotov cocktails scorched upward through her nose and mouth.
What the FUCK?!
While Raphael's brain strove to catch up with events his body reacted. He yanked Sharra to him and shoved the helmet in his hand over her head—activating the built-in air filtration system with the flick of a switch. In the same fluid motion, he scooped her up and vaulted through the knee-high barricade of fire.
They landed on the trunk of the car in the next bay as more explosions detonated on the concrete behind them. Raph spun, putting his shell to the bombardment. He slid Sharra to her feet as he swiped frantically at the burning yellow mass on her front.
Damn it! She's fuckin' on FIRE!
Despite the yelling in his mind he managed to grate out some form of reassurance.
"Hold still, hon. Don't panic!"
Bits of the front of Sharra's cotton top turned to velvety grey ash under his palm as he beat at the blazing spot, trying not to bruise the poor girl more in the process. She helped as best she could, frantically holding the burning material away from her body as he doused the flames.
"It's ok, you're ok," Raphael muttered several times as they went out. Though whether that was to comfort her or himself he didn't know, 'cause after her initial shriek Sharra hadn't made so much as a whimper.
Another quick once-over proved she really was fine. Most of her clothes were only lightly singed. The leg warmers smoldered. Her dark sweater had taken the brunt of the damage but, luckily, the lighter layer underneath it seemed whole.
As his panic receded, rage exploded in Raph's chest. He squinted angrily across the glaring firelight, scanning for the enemies he should have seen coming. There. Behind those pillars crouched some teenage punks. Baby Dragons, or wannabees from the look of them, attacking from afar.
Three foes were nothing to a well-trained ninja. His mind gleefully conjured a dozen ways to take them out, to make them pay in shocking ways for threatening his charge. But all of those actions required leaving Sharra dangerously exposed. And he dared not desert her. Not even for a moment.
He touched his belt, fingering a sai, but decided against throwing it. The Dragons had plenty of ammo. A canister of fuel and an entire duffle of preloaded bottles sat at their feet. Anything he lobbed back had the potential to ignite the whole bag of incendiaries.
If he was alone, he might chance it. He could dive over the rail and maneuver his way to the ground without too much trouble if the worst occurred and they detonated.
But Sharra is too fragile to risk.
He turned back to her and she flinched at something over his shoulder.
Instantly Raphael reacted, shielding her with his own body as the next firebomb crashed into them. He twisted her further out of the way as more bottles shattered nearby, adding to the inferno. Flames rolled off his shell and briefly licked up his calves but he didn't feel it.
Fuck! I'm glad I wore the armor...
Raph might have burn protection but Sharra was far too exposed. With the helmet, she was able to breathe safely. But only cloth stood between her tender skin and the hungry fire.
"Let's get you outta here," he growled.
Gathering her up in his arms, he moved to the left—bounding from trunk to roof to truck bed—leaving a trail of crushed cars behind him. Unfortunately, fleeing made this a game for the heartless punks. Their barrage tracked his arching path and the flames spread.
Sooner or later, one of these assholes is gonna come down with a terminal case of stupid and think rolling one under a car is a good idea. Then we're going to have a really BIG boom!
He crouched as a flaming missile flew over their heads and crashed on the hood of the truck, igniting the paint. Hastily, he moved on, not staying still long enough for them to concentrate the onslaught.
SHIT.
That's exactly what's going to happen.
How could I miss it?
The river's fuckin' RIGHT THERE!
Explosion. Water. Sharra. The perfect trifecta for the destruction of the Hamato clan.
Not if I can help it.
On his next jump, they hit the floor and he plunked Sharra on her own two feet. He grabbed her hand and dragged her in and out of the parked cars. She stayed right with him, eerily silent except for the occasional gasp, as he hauled her in front of or behind him as needed for shelter.
For a few seconds, they had a reprieve and he hit the panic button on his shell cell. He already had the headset tucked under his bandana so he didn't even have to pull the phone from its holster. It only rang once before Leonardo's tense voice sprang to life in his ear.
"Talk to me, Raph."
Raphael danced away as another deafening boom ignited the vehicle behind them. He picked Sharra up again and hopped across three more, trying to make headway toward the side of the lot facing dry land.
I gotta keep her away from the water!
But the garage was built on a pier and that damning element surrounded them on three sides. They made very little progress as the Dragon bastards' fire blocked him every step of the way.
"You know that doomsday scenario of Mike's?" Raph bellowed to be heard over the noise, "It's going down right now!"
"You found her?" Leo sounded shocked but didn't wait for further explanation. "Don! Gear up, you're with me," he ordered in the background. "Mikey, no. You stay put. YES! It's Sharra. NO, sit down! April, wait with him. Is Casey with you?"
It took Raphael a moment to realize Leonardo was speaking to him again. "Raph?"
"Uh, no. We split up to check some leads. Have Ape call him back. He's no use here. The whole place is on fire!"
"Where are you?"
"Top story of a parking garage. Five blocks south, three west from the antique store on an old pier. You can't miss it because it's the one ON FIRE!"
"So near? You got eyes on Sharra yet?"
"She's in my fuckin' arms."
"Try and hold on to her."
Raphael snorted and spun Sharra so she straddled his plastron. She tucked her feet behind his sai and curled her arms around his neck without hesitation as he supported her with a firm hand under her seat. His other braced her back and covered her spine as he turned on a heel and lurched in another direction.
"Doin' my damndest, but Leo—we're pinned against the water. They're throwin' cocktails, and any time now, one of these cars will blow and set off a chain reaction. We have to get outta here quick. Send Don for a boat, 'cause we're going down."
"To the river?" Leonardo gasped, "NO!"
"Yeah," Raphael drawled defensively. "I know what Mike saw, but I'll be there. It won't happen."
"No," Leonardo repeated. "The temperature's only in the teens and the Hudson will be colder. Even with your help, she'll freeze, Raph. Besides that, YOU'LL freeze!"
"She'll have approximately fifteen minutes before unconsciousness and death," Donatello chimed in on a networked phone. From the clanking sounds behind his voice, the genius was shoving things in a bag in the lab. Most likely medical equipment for burn care and hypothermia. But his tone was pitched a lot higher than normal as he added, "With our cold blood, you'll have seven. IF you're lucky."
Donnie's afraid.
Whether the emotion was for Raph or Sharra, didn't matter. Not much rattled Don and his raw fear more than Leo's objection made Raphael think twice about his plan of just throwing themselves into the river.
"Not a lotta choice here," Raph ground out at last. "but I'll try to drop one level and make it back to the pier without getting wet—"
He cut himself off with a grunt because Leo took over the line.
Again.
"Don? Do we even have a craft for a river rescue?"
"Not a winter one," Donatello answered. "The slider isn't meant for open water. The sub won't help without a functional airlock. And the jet skis will leave us freezing as well. I'll hit the waterfront and see what I can hotwire that hasn't been put into dry dock for the season."
"Just find one fast. I don't care what you steal," Leo said, "Take the first boat you see that can hold us all."
"On it," the genius responded. From the sound of his breathing, he was already pelting through the tunnels, though his footsteps were ninja silent.
"We're on the move, Raph," Leo began when there was another loud crash, this time from his end of the line.
"Stop trying to sneak by, Mike," Leo commanded in a flat voice that did not bode well for the state of his eyes, "that's an order. If you stand up again I'll knock you out cold."
"Don't!" Sharra gasped desperately, the first sound she'd made in several minutes of hauling ass. "Leo, please! Don't! Mikey, just wait for us, okay?"
Shit. Forgot she could hear all this.
The active comms in Raph's helmet added Sharra to the party line and carried her panicked words not only to his headset but to all their connected shell cells as well.
The instant silence echoed with shock.
"Sharra?" Mikey's voice broke through Leo's speaker phone, cracking and hysterical.
"She's got my helmet on," Raphael admitted, retreating to the side of the building and jumping up on the thin concrete divider separating them from the five-story drop. "Good thing too. This smoke is fuckin' thick."
Swinging down would be the fastest, but I might lose my grip and accidentally hurt her. Better go with rappelling.
"Babe, hold on!" Mikey pleaded, sounding absolutely frantic as he shouted into Leo's phone. "We're coming—"
"Michelangelo," Splinter's calm voice resonated through the connection, "Calm yourself and stay with Ms. Jones. I will accompany your brothers. Everything will be—"
"Sharra," Leonardo interrupted, shutting off the speaker so only his voice came through.
Raphael cocked his head in surprise, for the leader's tone had lost all dispassionate qualities and turned silky smooth. Sharra had startled him out of his scary headspace into something else altogether.
Too bad I ain't sure if it's better or worse.
"Please try to stay calm. Raph is going to climb down the outside and take you back in so you can escape on the ramp."
"I just said that," Raphael groused, pulling a thin grappling wire from his belt and securing the line on an eyebolt embedded on the near side of the wall.
"The rest of us are on our way," Leo continued as if Raphael hadn't spoken, "and we will get you out of this. The river route is a last resort only, but can you swim?"
"Some," she choked out. "I haven't tried for years."
"Ok. Don's getting a boat, just in case. Whatever happens, don't let go of Raph. We need you to stay together. If you do go in the water we can track him but we can't you."
Before she could answer Raphael squatted and hiked her up higher on his chest, making her squeak as he locked his arm around her waist.
"We gotta go," he barked. "You ready?"
Without waiting for her response, he gripped the line with his other hand and leaned back—dropping shell first off the concrete ledge.