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Chapter Text

       The bird yokai were ruthless, but nothing the turtles hadn’t dealt with before. They went through the regular battle motions, offering each other support while launching their own attacks. Michelangelo leapt from light post to light post, stringing mystic chains as he went until he’d made the perfect trap. He watched with an excited grin as his older brother Leonardo opened a portal beneath the unsuspecting bird yokai, depositing them into the chain net so Mikey could wrap them up with one swift movement.

       “Ohoho!” Leonardo laughed triumphantly, “Hey was this what your plan was supposed to be? Because it really felt like you guys were winging it. Eh? Eh?” Michelangelo groaned at the pun along with Raphael and Donatello, but secretly he was grinning. He’d never admit it in front of Leo, but the one-liners did have a way of firing up the team. He perched from a lamppost, watching his brothers triumphantly gather to admire their catch. He moved to join them, but something stopped him. He could feel a shift in his mystic energy. With a start, the turtle looked down at the trapped yokai to see the chains begin to shatter. Oh no!His brothers had their backs turned, celebrating their victory. Mikey jumped from the lamppost to intercept. His heart raced with adrenaline; but when the chains shattered, the bird yokai didn’t go for his brothers. They turned on him.

       A sharp kick in the ribs diverted Michelangelo midair, sending him crashing to the opposite side of the street from his brothers. He twisted to land on his feet, which was a bad idea. His leg pivoted sharply under his clumsily placed weight.

Pop! Said Mikey’s knee, as white hot pain seared up his leg.

That doesn’t sound good. Said Mikey’s brain as he blinked spots from his vision.

       “Cowabunga!!” Cried Mikey in response. The adrenaline worked quickly to numb the pain as he launched back into battle. He knew whatever happened was still there, but so what? His older brothers fought through injuries all the time. He wasn’t about to be outdone as the number one champion of today. With a swift crack across the beak, Mikey sent one of the bird yokai flying into a brick wall. His brothers were already moving to apprehend the other. In just a short moment, the criminal yokai were back under control.

       “You okay Mikey??” Ralph wasted no time appearing at his little brother’s side.

       “Oh yeah!” Mikey cheered in response. He pumped a fist into the air with a sparkling grin, “Did you see that takedown? We are on fire tonight! All time champions of New York, baby!” Never mind that his chains and probably his knee had broken. Everyone made mistakes, and his knee wasn’t even hurting that bad. Better yet, now that the mission had been completed, they could get right to the video game tournament they had been planning all week, “Let’s get back to the lair and get our game on!” He punched his fists into the air triumphantly, making a relieved smile draw across Raph’s face. The oldest brother rested an affectionate hand on Mikey’s head.

       “Good. Thanks for watching our backs, little brother. Now, the last one to the lair is turtle soup!” Raph took off at a dead sprint. For such a big turtle, he sure did move fast.

       “Oh, that is morbid!” Donatello complained, but he wasn’t one to turn down a challenge. His battle shell sprouted to life, lifting him off the ground to chase after Raph, Leonardo in hot pursuit. Mikey watched them with a grin. He was so fired up, he was sure he could easily overtake all of his brothers. He shoved off his heel and stamped one foot down, only for pain to seize him all the way up to his eyeballs. He hit the ground face first, feeling the asphalt scrape his skin. A ringing sound filled his tympana and his vision flashed. As the overwhelming pain subsided to a sharp ache, he managed to blink until his vision cleared. He heard the muffled sound of his own ragged breathing becoming more clear.

       “Woah. Woah.'' Mikey panted. He tried to make sense of the world spinning around him. The pain was definitely localized over his knee. He pushed himself slowly up onto his good knee, keeping the other one gingerly extended until he could flip over and sit up. Carefully, he removed his knee pad and blinked down at a completely normal looking knee. It wasn’t even swollen! He took a deep breath and shoved himself into a standing position, careful to keep the weight off his throbbing leg. Ever so gently he placed his foot and slowly applied weight to the injured knee. It felt strange, as though it wasn’t quite locking into place as it should, but otherwise he didn’t feel anything more than a dull ache spring from it, “Man that was…” He exhaled harshly, finally catching his breath, “Man. Better take it easy, Angelo. You can be turtle soup…just for today.” With that, he carefully half-limped his way into the sewer.

****

       “Mikey!” Leo popped around the corner to greet his younger brother as he finally caught up to them in the arcade, “Where have you been? It’s been your turn for like-“ he paused, looking Mikey over as his brows furrowed in concern, “Woah, what happened to you little brother?” He reached a hand out to grab Michelangelo’s arm and steady him. The orange banded turtle looked like he was barely standing, his eyes hanging half-closed in exhaustion. Mikey bit his lip, agonizing over the worried expression he had caused. It was much better when he brought proud smiles and laughter to his brothers’ faces.

       “Oh…nothing.” He smiled sheepishly at Leo, “I think I just twisted my knee a little in the fight back there.” He gestured vaguely behind him, then gave a nervous laugh. Leonardo squinted at him long and hard, then broke into a grin.

       “Don’t worry! Leon’s got it!” He chirped, and pulled Mikey carefully over to sit on the mock seat of a racing game, “Let our number one medic turtle take a look!” He carefully wrapped his hands over Mikey’s foot and extended his leg until the box turtle cringed and whimpered. Leo hummed thoughtfully and bent the knee back again, this time bringing it up to Mikey’s chest.

       Mikey froze up, preparing himself for a wave of pain, but nothing came. He blinked in confusion. His brain was saying ‘that should definitely hurt’ but his knee replied ‘Nah it’s all good’

       “Nothing?” Leo asked, breaking Mikey from his thoughts as he glanced up at him.

       “No, that feels fine.” Mikey replied hesitantly. Leonardo wrinkled his brow, his previous playfulness fading a bit. It made Mikey’s stomach twist anxiously. Leo being serious instead of lightening the mood with a doctor pun? Definitely concerning.

       Leo gently pushed against the knee, rolling the cap and pressing against patellar tendon just enough to make Mikey’s leg twitch a little. He glanced up at Mikey but the box turtle just shook his head. Leo hunched over the knee, more concentrated now. Any signs of nonchalance he had were completely lost. He pressed against the inner side of Mikey’s knee. The younger brother suddenly gasped and grit his teeth in response.

       “That’s where it hurts?” Leonardo asked, his voice weak. Mikey nodded sharply. Leo tested the spot again, making Mikey lean his head back and tense his shoulders in response. Quickly, the red eared slider released the knee and stepped back like it was a ticking time bomb.

       “What? What??” Michelangelo looked up at him with wide eyes, “Is that a bad place to hurt?”

       Leonardo twisted his beak into a dry frown, and crossed his arms tightly, the way he did when he was unsure. Mikey thought it looked like the slider was trying to pull into his shell, “It…definitely could be concerning.” Leo finally responded, then relaxed and smiled, “But it hasn’t been that long, let’s give it some time. If it starts to swell up real big,” he motioned a circle with his hands, “Then we’ll know it’s okay to just slap some ice on that baby and you can kick back while the rest of us pamper you.”

       “Wait, the swelling is a good thing?” Mikey asked incredulously, but the slider had already moved on in his doctoring. He disappeared out the door for a moment, returning with a first-aid kit from the med bay. He used the bandage inside to wrap Mikey’s knee and stepped back.

       “Can you stand on it?” He asked, extending a hand to offer Mikey assistance. The box turtle accepted the hand and pushed to his feet, carefully testing the wrapped leg. It felt weak, not quite locking into place, but the initial pain was gone. He took an experimental step forward, relaxing as it proved to only feel a bit unsteady. Leo smiled and retracted his hand, giving a small nod,

       “I’ll check on it again in a bit.” He reassured Mikey, “Try to take it easy. Shouldn’t be too hard since you’ll be spending the night losing at Mario Kart!” The mischievous light returned to Leo’s eyes and Mikey grinned to match it.

       “Oh you are so on!” He replied, and playfully elbowed Leo as they made their way over to the flashing screen where Donnie and Raph patiently waited.

****

       Mikey woke the next morning with a smile. He had always been a morning turtle, eager to start the day with a balanced meal and some fun times with his brothers. He turned to roll off the bed, extending his leg until he was reminded with a stabbing pain that he was definitely not in good enough condition for being a morning turtle.

       “Sweet barbecue tenderloins!” He hissed a Raph-approved curse and gripped his arms until the pain faded, “No, no problem.” He sighed, resuming his cheerful attitude with a bit of sarcastic strain, “I’ll just hop to the kitchen!” He used the bedpost to right himself, carefully stepping only with his toes on the injured leg.

       The kitchen was still dark and empty. This was a normal sight for Mikey, and one that he welcomed. The quiet space felt like an empty canvas, just waiting for him to bring it to life.

       He noticed, with a small pang of anxiety, that he had set up the kitchen for Michelangelo prime, the version of himself that could gleefully bounce from cupboard to cupboard in an impromptu dance session as he rapped about his cooking ingredients. Michelangelo subpar would have a hard time reaching the higher shelves and limping from one side of the kitchen to the other.

       However, Mikey wasn’t about to be discouraged. Suffering for his art was exactly what the real Michelangelo did, and Mikey was up to the test. First, he’d need the mixing bowls. Exactly why he had decided to put them up so high when he wasn’t exactly the tallest turtle, he would have to wonder about later.

       He dragged a stepping stool over to the counter and gingerly stepped up onto it, using the boost to stretch out for the top cupboard. He popped it open, but found with an annoyed grunt that one of his taller brothers had pushed the bowls back while putting them away. He could barely brush the bowls with his fingertips, which normally wouldn’t be a problem seeing as he’d usually just climb up onto the counter, but the thought of having to twist his leg around that much was not one he wanted to entertain.

       Mikey took a deep breath and stretched out as far as he could on tiptoe, grabbing uselessly at the bowl with one hand, the other gripping the shelf beneath it until he felt, with a start, that his handhold, and subsequently his foothold, moved beneath him. The stepping stool slid away, and the shelf crashed, causing Mikey to fall forward. He collapsed to the ground on top of his injured knee and instantly felt the pain seize him.

       He gulped oxygen, gripping his hands into fists as his vision flared with dancing spots. A wave of nausea rolled over him, accompanied by a weakness in his arms that almost made him fall face first again. Dishes clattered and broke into pieces all around him, bringing the sound of his brothers as they startled from their sleep.

       “Mikey! What’s goin’ on?” Raph was, of course, the first to take the corner at top speeds, dropping to his knees at Mikey’s side. The box turtle looked at him with tears in his eyes, unable to vocalize his pain over the unending throbbing and the squeeze of his throat in response to it. Raph raised his hand in alarm, and reached out to set it on Mikey’s head, “Hey, hey, breathe little brother.” He soothed, “Are you hurting?”

       Mikey nodded, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks in response to Raph’s comforting voice. He dropped his forehead against the snapper’s plastron, gritting his teeth as he fought for control over the heat that was spreading from his injury. Raph let him rest there, gently gripping him close until Leo and Donnie finally stumbled into the room. “Take a look, Leo.” He called to the slider, “Mikey says he’s hurting.”

       Leo pinched his brows and nodded solemnly, patting the counter where he wanted Raphael to set the smaller turtle down. Mikey held perfectly still and bit his cheek, worried that a single movement would send the shockwaves of pain through him again. He cringed as Leo examined the knee, but his brother’s touch was soft, nearly nonexistent. The cool of his fingers was a welcome relief.

       After a few minutes, Leo backed away from his examination and shook his head, “It’s not good, Miguel.” He sighed, “You definitely tore something, but I can’t tell without a scan to compare to the ones in the textbook.”

       “Donnie can do scans!” Mikey interjected nervously, “Right Don?”

       “I could…try to build something like an MRI machine.” Donatello theorized, putting his fingers to his chin thoughtfully, “It would take quite a bit of time, and research. Lots of research.” He almost didn’t seem too upset about the lengthy research part, “I promise I shall do my best, only for you little brother!” He crowed confidently.

       “Thanks Donnie.” Michelangelo sighed with relief and laid his head back.

       “Until then,” Leo stepped forward and put his hands on his hips, speaking in an overly dramatic authoritative tone, “I’m putting you on a strict diet of rest, Miguel. No ninja-ing and no more…” he glanced over at the broken shelf, “Kitchen vandalism.” He nodded to Raph to lift Mikey off the counter once more, “Now off to bed with yeh!” He ordered like a pirate.

       Mikey didn’t resist, he was honestly exhausted. His leg was still throbbing, worse than before. He reassured himself that after a little rest he’d be back on his feet. How long would it take for a torn something to heal? Surely not that long. He murmured a distant thanks to Raph as he was gently lowered back into his blankets and wrapped himself up.

Just a minor setback. He thought as he drifted off to sleep, I’ll be an all time champion of New York again in no time.

Chapter Text

       “Wasn’t there supposed to be four of you toitles?”

       Leonardo choked against the vice grip the massive rhino mutant had on his throat. The rhino shook him, but he stubbornly grit his teeth and tightened his brow. As if he’d answer that question, even if he could breath.

       ”Who cares?” Angrily grunted the other intruder, a mutant warthog wearing extremely outdated sunglasses. He threw Donatello down, avoiding the soft shell’s grappling robot arms with a sneer as he planted a foot on his chest, “Can you believe that these guys are supposed to be ninjas?” He crushed Donnie further into the ground, ending the purple branded turtle’s attempt to scramble free.

       Leo snapped his head to look for Raphael. Their oldest brother had taken the worst of the ambush, clobbered by both of the giant mutants at the same time. He tried to call out for him, but the rhino mutant crushed his throat tighter.

       ”Where’s the fourth one of yous?” The rhino demanded, “I wanna crush him, too!” He loosened his grip just enough to allow the dangling turtle to a chance to respond. Leonardo sucked in sweet oxygen, trying to steady the hammering of his heart with long breaths. The rhino growled impatiently. Leo raised his chin defiantly to glare into the ugly face of the mutant, and worked up the last of his strength to spit at him. The resulting roar was nearly deafening. Gravity seemed to shift as he was lifted higher, then easily tossed like a child’s doll.

       He hit the wall hard, crushing the air from his lungs. As his head snapped back from the impact, his skull cracked against the cement, every last one of his senses fleeing. He sunk to the ground with a pained croak. Uselessly, he tried to get back up, but the world wouldn’t stop spinning like a very, very painful carousel.

       Donnie called his name, but the elder twin was swiftly silenced with a blow to the head. The sound made Leo gripped his hand into a weak fist and clench his eyes shut against a nauseated tug in his stomach. He could feel himself slipping over the edge of consciousness, the sound of his own harsh breathing beginning to grow more distant. As darkness overtook his vision, another voice joined the ambush.

       “Good work my loyal friends. All is going according to plan! The artifact will be our grasp momentarily!”

Then, Leo slept.

****

       Michelangelo expected his all three of his brothers to be hovering anxiously over him when he woke up. They were always like that when he wasn’t feeling well. He pretended to hate it, but it always made him feel better. He sat up with an annoyed glare prepared to shoo them off, but found his room was dark, silent, and lonely. Weird. 

      “Leo?” He called tentatively, then paused for a response. Nothing. He tapped a finger against the mattress with a frown, then tried again, “Raaaph? Anybody?”

      They must have gone on a mission. His heart sunk, but he scolded himself for it immediately. He couldn’t expect them to just sit around until he was completely healed again. He’d just have to find a way to support them from the lair. He found, with a satisfied smile, that once he stretched out the stiffness in his knee, he could still limp on it somewhat painlessly.

       Mikey couldn’t help but check each room as he went. Maybe they were still home and just sleeping? But every room was empty. Each silhouette of an empty bed filled him with hollow dread. Something just felt wrong. He checked the arcade, the skate ramps, the TV room. Each empty. He stood in the middle of the lair and cupped his hands to his mouth, “Helloooo??” He called. He knew there would be no answer.

       “Just out on a mission, Angelo. You’re overreacting.” He muttered to himself, and took a deep breath. He still had one more room to check, but he knew it would be empty. Splinter had left earlier that week to check on some new international Lou Jitsu dojos. Mikey cast his door a longing look. Having to stay back wouldn’t be so bad if Splinter had been in the other room, keeping him company by laughing at the TV. He gave a resigned sigh and limped his way to the kitchen. Struggling his way through the entire lair worked up quite the thirst, it seemed.

       But the kitchen was ransacked. Michelangelo stood in the doorway, his jaw slack in disbelief. Had he slept through an attack? Surely this had to be some kind of practical joke, “Okay!” He called to the silence, “You guys got me!” He chuckled nervously, “But I’m really starting to freak out now!” He stepped further into the kitchen, his heart hammering as no response came.

      He was about to call out again when something caught his eye. A single slip of paper sat neatly on the counter amid the destruction. Mikey leaned against the counter and picked it up to squint at the scratchy text.

Hello rat

You have something I want, and I have your sons.

Meet me in the place where you betrayed me.

I’ll give you 3 days.

RK

       Mikey’s hand tightened around the paper until it shook, his eyes widening in disbelief. His brothers had been kidnapped and he had slept through it. His mind was flooded with thoughts. Why would someone want take his brothers? Had they been wounded? Had they called for help only to be silenced and dragged away to god knows where? But most of all, one question buzzed louder than the others. Would he be able to find them in 3 days?

Mikey’s chest burned with anger. He beat his clenched fist into the counter, crushing the paper completely. Of course he would find them. He wasn’t the strongest, biggest, or most skilled turtle, but for his brothers, he would do anything, bum leg or not.

He didn’t know who RK was, but they were going to regret leaving a turtle behind.

****

       “Rat King?” Leo rolled the name dramatically across his tongue as he gave the glowering villain an unimpressed stare, “I gotta say, it’s a cool aesthetic but I’m just not digging the name. It’s just too easy. Like if I called myself ‘Blue Leader’ or something.”

      “Oh, actually I like that.” Donatello called from his mystic cage, “I have to disagree with you, ‘Nardo. It’s in the simplicity.” He raised his hands and splayed them out dramatically, “The Rat King.”

       “Oh would you shut up?” The Rat King barked, shaking his fist at the row of mystic cages, “I swear if I didn’t need you alive I’d feed you all to my rats!”

      “See?” Leonardo continued, “That’s Class A villain stuff right there. You need a name that screams ‘I make empty G-rated threats in a spooky, evil voice’!” He cast a nervous glance over to the third cage. Raph still hadn’t moved, he really needed a chance to get over there and check in his injuries. Hopefully, if he was annoying enough, this rat-obsessed madman would have them moved somewhere else, somewhere they wouldn’t be separated.

      He had no such luck, however. The Rat King seemed to notice the attempts to make him angry. He turned his back to the turtles and muttered to himself as he dug through some dusty old books. Leo sighed and turned to check in on Donnie’s progress. The soft shell was closely examining the mystic cage, trying to discern a ‘weakness or exploit’ as he had very boringly explained in a hushed whisper when Leo woke up.

     Donnie shook his head and shrugged. He had no idea where the mystic energy was coming from. As great as merging mystic power and tech was, he still hadn’t grasped much of the inner workings of mystic energy yet, just that it required a power source, be it living energy or object based. They were effectively trapped. Leo hoped that Mikey was staying in bed. They needed to get away from this clown so they could get back to helping him literally get back on his feet again.

      “Hey, Ratsy, can I call you Ratsy? I gotta level with you.” Leo sighed and crossed his arms, “You kidnapped the wrong turtles. I mean, we live in a sewer, I really don’t think there’s anything worthwhile that we can give you.”

      “Oh but you’re wrong about that, my very annoying friend in blue!” The Rat King turned and towered over Leonardo’s cage. He lifted his arms, several rats scampering from his coat sleeves and scaling his shoulders, “You are the leverage I need to pry my artifact from the brilliant rodentia hands of Hamato Yoshi. With its abilities I will finally have the mental fortitude needed to take control.” He grinned with yellowed and broken teeth. The rats on his shoulders stared down at Leonardo, never taking their eyes off of him. Leo figured the scruffy rodents must have served for the Rat King’s eyes, as his own were only sunken sockets behind a layer of bandages. The red eared slider stuck his tongue out at them with a cheeky grin. 

      “You’re really putting yourself through a lot of trouble for this thing,” He pushed with a raised brow, “What makes you so sure Splinter has it?”

      “For your own sake little turtle, I would pray that he does.” The Rat King turned from Leo and returned to his dusty books.

      “Yeah well, if it was me I’d rather destroy some ‘artifact’ than be controlled by a paper mache skeleton in a trench coat.” Leonardo muttered mutinously. He kicked at the bars of the cage, only making the mystic energy give off a sharp buzzing sound, “Michelangelo, you’d better still be in bed.” 

Chapter Text

       New York had never felt so big. His brothers could be anywhere, and Mikey barely had a clue. He felt overwhelmed with the enormity of the task represented by the maze-like grid of the Big Apple. Where did he even start? He closed his eyes to focus, pretending his brothers were confidently standing at his side. If he had been the one missing…what would Raph, Leo, or Donnie do? What would they say if they were here to help him now?

       Hey, this may be a big city, but you’ve got bigger skills. Confidently boomed the Raphael in Mikey’s head.

      “That’s right!” Michelangelo opened his eyes, giving the city a defiant glare, “I may be a small turtle, and you may be a big city, but I’ve got mad ninja skills! Look out, New York! I’m coming for my brothers!” He hobbled forward and leapt from the roof where he had perched. Using a drainpipe, he slid down until he could safely jump into an empty alley. Whoever had taken his brothers had known to look for them in the sewer- had known Splinter was a rat with four turtle sons. That had to mean they were a yokai of some kind. His immediate suspicion was Big Mama. After all, she stood to gain the most from kidnapping Mikey and his brothers, especially with the intention to hold it over Splinter’s head.

       However, the initials on the note gave the box turtle pause. RK. He didn’t know anyone with those initials. He couldn’t think of a way they could relate to any of the yokai or mutants they had met in their adventures. Whoever he was dealing with, it seemed to be someone he’d never met from Splinter’s mysterious past.

        “Of course the only guy who’d know anything is half-way across the world and bad at carrying his phone!” Mikey complained to the silent alley, “Cut a turtle a break around here, would ya, universe?” The universe didn’t respond. Mikey huffed in annoyance at that, “Whatever. I don’t need convenience. I’m a Hamato.” With that, he resolved to make his way to Run of the Mill Pizza. It was the closest yokai gathering place, and there were yokai there he could trust.

*****

       “Hey, little rat man. When exactly do we get paid for dis gig?” The irritated rhino mutant, ‘Rocksteady’ as Leo had learned, heavily placed one of his giant hands down on the book the Rat King had been pouring over. The withered skeleton of a man cast an annoyed glance upwards at his dissatisfied henchmen.

       “Yeah, we brought you the three turtles.” The Warthog, ‘Bebop’, complained, “How long are you going to keep dragging us around? We have other clients waiting for our very professional services.”

       “Just a moment.” The Rat King turned and squinted at the caged turtles behind him, “I was under the impression that the rat had four sons. I assumed you had accidentally dispatched the final one. Did you only find three?”

       “Dat’s what I said!” Rocksteady grumbled, “The blue toitle wouldn’t squeal.” That turned the Rat King’s attention instantly on Leonardo.

       The slider jolted, looking up from the escape plan he was drawing in the dirt. He was careful to keep his face neutral. He was the face guy, this kind of stuff was a breeze to him. Convincing the Rat King to give up on the fourth ninja turtle would be easy. He worried, however, about Donatello. Donnie was very very bad at lying. He tried to catch his twins eye, making a zipper motion over his mouth, but Donnie just squinted at him in confusion. Leo scowled. For how smart Donnie was, he sure could be completely oblivious.

       “Well??” Leonardo flinched as the Rat King suddenly towered over his cage, “Tell me quickly, turtle, or I will be forced to torture it out of you.”

       Leo just gave the villainous man a relaxed grin, “Gosh, wouldn’t that be embarrassing for you, completely missing one of your kidnapping victims.” He laughed, “Yup. Good thing you got all of us.”

       “Three brothers, just three of us.” Donnie chimed in. Leo shot him a blank stare that screamed a million death threats. Donnie quickly looked away. This time he caught the message. The Rat King moved away from them with an uncertain grunt, returning to his mysterious villainy in the corner.

       “You’ll receive your pay once you prove to me that you’ve collected every turtle.” He addressed the angry mutants hovering over him, “Something doesn’t seem right here. If there’s still a turtle lingering somewhere in this blasted city, I want to know about it! Search every last sewer and alley until you’re sure of it. Now begone from my presence! I am trying to bring our scheme to it’s exhilarating finish!”

       Rocksteady and Bebop mutinously grumbled to each other, but they didn’t have much more of a choice if they wanted to be paid. They stormed from the room, leaving an uneasy pit in Leonardo’s stomach. If they went after Mikey, no one would be there to protect him.

*****

       “Ahaha! Oh mama you picked the wrong turtle to mess with tonight!” Mikey cried as he dodged a swinging tentacle. Run of the Mill Pizza was in shambles, but Mikey didn’t have time to feel bad about it. The moment he had entered the pizzeria, every slimy yokai in need of a quick buck had zeroed in. It seemed whoever had kidnapped his brothers had put a price out on his head.

       No matter, Michelangelo was feeling fired up. He grabbed a table and used it as a shield against a spiny tail. “Cowa-bunga!” He cried, giving the table a fierce kick. It tore a path through the scuffling yokai, but pain laced through him as he was suddenly reminded of his pesky injury, “Hot Cheese Soufflé!!” He squeaked, and unsteadily grabbed a chair for support. His ears rung as he bit back a wave of nausea. Note to self, sweet ninja kick moves require happy joints.

      “Aw, would you look at that.” Drawled a large, fuzzy yokai with a weasel face, “Little sunspot can barely stand! You’ll be easy prey.” The yokai lurched forward with a fanged grin. He grabbed for Mikey, but the turtle was ironically much, much faster. He dodged the grabbing claws and swung a nunchaku. The chain extended, wrapping around the weasel so Mikey could yank him clean off of his feet.

       Claws scraped the cobblestone floor behind him, and he quickly pushed off one foot to leap into the air just in time to dodge a tackling black and white striped yokai. He landed lightly on the yokai’s shoulders and kicked off, sending it tumbling as he landed safely with his weapons at the ready, “Anyone else want a taste of Magic Mike?” He demanded fiercely, spinning a nunchuck in preparation for any more oncoming attacks.

       “Yeah, how’s about I turn him into toitle soup?” The booming voice made Mikey freeze. Two giant legs akin to scaly gray tree trunks came stomping across the restaurant. Mikey trailed his eyes upwards to match them to the towering hulk of a mutant they belonged to. He was greeted with a sharp horn the size of his forearm between two beady eyes squinted and full of violent thoughts. Mikey swallowed.

       He barely had time to react as a giant fist came crashing down. Managing a roll to the side, he scrambled for higher ground atop a booth seat. “Four toitles!” The rhino huffed triumphantly through his nose, “I knew I was right! I’m smarter than I look!”

       Leo would have totally made a one-liner out of that. Mikey couldn’t help thinking, in spite of the way his heart thundered against his plastron, “Wait, what do you know about four turtles??” Mikey demanded, pointing at the rhino with his bravest battle face, “Are you RK? Give me my brothers back!” He jumped to tackle the rhino’s face, but something intercepted him mid-air. The butt of a gun had sharply connected with his side, sending him tumbling into a wall. Mikey had never been so thankful for the hard shell that absorbed the shock.

       “Yeah, yeah, shut up!” His attacker, a smaller but no-less-tough-looking warthog snorted in annoyance, “Four turtles, we get it. Are you just going to stand there gloating all day or are you going to help me break its shell so we can get paid?”

       The rhino grinned and gave a sinister laugh, “Cracking shells is just de kind of therapy I need after dealin’ wit’ rat guy.” He turned on Mikey and punched a fist into his palm.

       This is going to hurt. Was all that Mikey could think. He scrambled to his feet, using the wall for support. There was no way he’d be able to take these two. The rhino alone was massive, and the warthog had a wild, unpredictable look behind those, frankly, unflattering sunglasses. Escaping intact to find his brothers would have to take priority here. The rhino lunged forward first. Mikey braced himself for incoming pain, but not from his attackers. He jumped straight up, then pushed off the wall with a kick from his injured leg that sent him soaring over the rhino’s head. He crashed to the ground gracelessly behind them, his vision flashing as an involuntary strangled gasp escaped his throat. 

       Get out of there Mikey! The Raphael in his head screamed.

       Easier said than done!! Mikey screamed back.

      The rhino had crashed face first into the wall, lodging his horn and leaving him to angrily thrash. Good, that buys me some time. Mikey thought victoriously. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet and took on a full limp-sprint. His ears were assaulted by a series of rattling gunshots, spraying the area around him with tiny explosions from the warthog’s gun.

       Shit shit shit shit Mikey panicked.

       Language! The Raphael in his head scolded.

      Mikey had never been so glad to gasp in the stink of a New York alley as he blasted out of Run of the Mill Pizza. He gulped oxygen like he’d never tasted it before. Adrenaline laced through him like ice-hot sparks of electricity, numbing the pain in his knee as he legged it down the street. He scampered up the fire escape of a tall apartment building like a squirrel with the hounds of hell on its heels, and dove for cover behind a large vent.

      He could hear the rhino and the warthog arguing as they raced out behind him, confused and angered by his not-very-cool ninja escape,

      “Whatever, little brat can’t hide forever.” The warthog snapped, “Every yokai in New York’s gonna be after the bounty we put on him.”

       The rhino gave a long growl, “I’m just sayin’ I’m not gonna be the one to tell the Rat King that we couldn’t even capture a toitle with a limp. I ain’t listenin’ to another one of his stupid speeches. He talks like he swallowed a fantasy book or somethin’.”

       The Rat King! Mikey suppressed a loud gasp, slapping a hand over his mouth. Rat King. RAT KING! RK! They did have his brothers. All he had to do was employ some ninja magic to sneak along behind them and they’d lead him right to them! Mikey pumped his fists into the air in silent glee. This mission was turning out to be easier than he thought.

Chapter Text

       His lungs burned. Each breath rattled, but Michelangelo fought to keep quiet. Who knew limping would take more energy than walking- but only half the legs! He had been following the strange mutants for some time now. They moved silently forward, stoic, going in seemingly senseless directions with turns down random alleys.

       Mikey had already expended every last bit of strength he had, but he just kept on with an unsteady gate. The exhaustion crept into his head, dulling his senses and making him feel feverish. His knee throbbed with every wretched beat of his heart. He barely managed to dodge out of sight every time one of the mutants glanced back. It was some of his worst ninja work, but these two didn’t seem too bright, so it was probably fine.

      Had he passed that store before? It looked strangely familiar. That graffiti mural too. A chill ran through him as the shroud over his senses was lifted, and he became increasingly alert. This place was familiar, and so was that bus stop and that pile of garbage. They were going in circles.

      Mikey’s throat tightened. He stopped walking. The two mutants slowed their pace in response, to give him time to catch up. 

      They know I’m following them. They’ve been wearing me down on purpose

     The rhino and the warthog had stopped now. They turned to face him, and this time Mikey didn’t dodge for a hiding place. His heart hammered against his plastron. His fingers instinctively gripped into fists. The stare-down only lasted a moment, but it felt like an eternity. The warthog snorted.

     Michelangelo’s head screamed at him as he lurched forward, nunchucks in hand. He knew he didn’t stand a chance, not like this, but he was embarrassed and desperate. They knew where his brothers were. He needed to find his brothers.

     “Come and get some!” Mikey shouted.

     “Gladly.” The rhino replied. He wound up a punch but Mikey feinted at the last second. He wrapped a chain around the fist and yanked, pulling the rhino off-balance and forcing him to stumble into a wall. The massive mutant roared in defiance and yanked his fist back, but Mikey had already released the chain. With a twist, the turtle landed lightly and was instantly on the move again. He leapt up fire-escapes balanced on one leg as the warthog left a chain of gunfire on the wall behind him. Michelangelo’s heart was thundering so loud it was all he could hear and all he could feel.

My brothers. I have to save my brothers. 

      The turtle grit his teeth and back-flipped off a balcony, turning midair to land on top of the warthog. He crushed the mutant beneath him with a triumphant laugh, “Who brings a gun to a ninja fight?” He taunted.

      “Here I come!” The rhino rose from the wall and stamped the ground, making it shake a little. He dropped his massive head down to point his horn at Mikey, and charged. Mikey looked down at ‘Bebop’ and laughed,

     “See ya!” The turtle bailed, jumping and grabbing the bottom of a window ledge to pull himself up to safety.

    “Wait! Wait! Rocksteady!! You’re gonna—!” The warthog let out a squeal. He scrambled to escape the freight train of razor sharp ivory thundering towards him, but Rocksteady was surprisingly fast. They collided, then crashed into a wall.

      Mikey burst into laughter, throwing a relieved hand over his face as he rocked back against the window. Bebop had managed to avoid being impaled, but his shoulder was crushed. He kicked Rocksteady with angry squeals as he tried to wiggle free. Rocksteady growled with violent intent, but the rhino couldn’t dislodge his horn from the wall.

     “Alright.” Mikey’s amusement faded as he dropped carefully to the ground and limped up to the mutants, “Now tell me where my brothers are.” He gripped his nunchucks. His fingers trembled slightly.

      “You might be fast, turtle.” Bebop scowled, “But you sure aren’t intimidating. I’m not squealing. Not to you.” He kicked Rocksteady again. The rhino grunted and yanked against the wall harder.

      Michelangelo’s frown deepened. It had struck a chord. He knew he was the youngest, therefore the most naive and blessed with bouncy baby cuteness that thieved from what a super cool hardened ninja should look like. He knew he was grossly inadequate and unqualified for a rescue mission of this scale compared to any of his other brothers and it obviously showed. He knew he had nothing going to make him anything but a scared highly-trained kid but by golly- he was all his brothers had! He’d kick mutant butt all night if he had to!

       “Tell me where my brothers are! I don’t even know what you want from us! Your note made no stinking sense!” Mikey angrily yanked the paper from where it was tucked in the strap over his chest and shook it at them, “We haven’t done anything to you or whoever this ‘Rat King’ dude is!”His strength was beginning to fade as the adrenaline of battle crumbled away. By the time had finished shouting, his breath came in harsh gasps, and he lowered his arm, unable to lift them any longer. The pain returned and it made him feel light-headed, but he refused to show it. He mentally dug his heels in and scowled at Bebop.

       Bebop sneered at the turtle, “Look at ‘im, he’s gonna start crying!” He mocked in a baby voice, “Move along kid, we’re not telling you anything. Just be thankful you’re lucky enough to be alive and don’t look back.”

       Mikey grit his teeth and stepped closer, hands gripped at his sides, “I’m not leaving without-“ he froze as a thin smile drew across the warthog’s wrinkly muzzle. Shit!

      “Too close.” Bebop snorted, “Game over.”

       Rocksteady’s hand shot out like a snake and closed around Mikey’s throat. He threw the turtle at the wall beside Bebop. The wind was crushed straight out of Mikey’s lungs. He sunk to the ground and gripped his side. There was a cracking sound above his head, and Rocksteady stepped back as he finally freed his horn from the wall.

       “You ain’t the brightest toitle.” He gave a low, raspy laugh and picked Mikey up by the short tails of his mask, “Maybe I can knock some sense into that thick shell of yours.”

       Mikey struggled, giving a shout as he defiantly cracked a nunchuck across Rocksteady’s face. The hilt of Bebop’s gun crashed against the turtle’s head in return, leaving a ringing sound in his ears. Disoriented, he hung limp long enough for Rocksteady to grab ahold of his plastron in one meaty hand. He raised the turtle up, then crushed him down into the ground. Mikey wanted to scream as his shell nearly split under the pressure, but nothing managed to escape his throat but a cough. He looked up at the rhino’s toothy smile with wide eyes. Rocksteady pushed down harder and Mikey cringed, stretching his neck out as if he was reaching out for oxygen with a weak gasp.

       “You should have run when I told ya, kid.” Bebop hummed casually, “Now you’re in our house, and we got all night to play.”

****

       Donatello hadn’t stopped calculating since he had regained consciousness in the Rat King’s damp lair. He knew everything there was to know about tech- and of course he masterfully crafted tech into his mystic weapon to create the ultimate Donnie experience (TM)- but mystic energy was still a new science to him. He felt completely stripped of usefulness behind the bars as they hummed mockingly with mystic energy, and it made him angry.

      “I will break you.” He whispered to them with a squinted glare as he scribbled equations in the dirt.

      “Uhg…Don, are you threatenin’ inanimate objects again?” Raph groaned as he shifted uncomfortably in his all-too-small prison. His wounds from their confrontation with Bebop and Rocksteady were clearly visible- his bruised face and cracked shell showing exactly where he had taken the full brunt force of a charging rhino to save Leo from being crushed.

     “Don’t move, Raph,” Leo scolded. He was pressed up against the mystic bars as tightly as he could, reaching through them to patch up his older brother. The ‘Rat King’ had been considerate enough to toss them a box of bandages and some antiseptic. It was clear by the look on Leo’s face that it wasn’t even close to the kind of medical attention Raph actually needed.

     The thought made Donnie clench his teeth harder. The numbers he scribbled began to swim, and he blinked exhaustion from his eyes. He knew it would be stupid to stay up late two nights in a row to work on his new project. Of course he’d end up kidnapped and in a race against the clock to save two injured brothers, that’s always the kind of shit that happened when he stayed up late and was left off his game.

     He sighed and leaned back, giving up on the half-finished equation. He knew mystic energy wasn’t about science and math in the end anyway. His efforts to ‘decode’ the bars would be fruitless, “How’s Raph?” He asked, reaching out a finger to poke at the bars above his head.

     “Awake.” Leo replied carefully, “That’s good. Everything else…I won’t know until I can get a look at his guts.”

     “Great.” Donnie sighed tensely, “I feel like a damsel in distress without my tech.”

     “Aw, come on, Don.” Raph encouraged, “You don’t need your tech to be smart. Let’s try’n think of something together. Maybe we can trick the Rat King into lettin’ us out?”

     Leo hummed his approval, “Not bad Raphael, you’re starting to think like a face man.” He patted Raph’s head gently. The snapping turtle huffed sarcastically in response.

     Donatello drew his illustriously drawn brows down as an idea sparked in his eyes. He cast a concentrated look around the room until his eyes landed on their weapons propped nearby, then moved to the guard rat in the corner of the room; watching them intently in place of its master, “My dear brothers!” He announced haughtily with a big grin, “I have a plan.”

****

       Ongyo-jutsu, the art of escape. It had been the last thing the young Hamato turtles wanted to learn, but Splinter had insisted on teaching them before they were allowed out of the lair for the first time. It came with many different categories and some pretty unscientific methods that wouldn’t quite work in a modern day setting, but there was one technique that Donatello was certain would work. His brothers were hesitant, but he knew his hypothesis was sound.

      The Rat King clearly wanted them alive, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone through the effort of capturing them in the first place- much less give Leo medical supplies. His plan obviously hinged on the turtles. If they could die, or rather give the appearance of death, it would panic the strange rat-man enough for him to lower the cages so he could check on them. That split moment would be the fatal mistake that granted them freedom.

     The very rat that served as their prison guard would be the key to Donnie’s plan. Rats had excellent hearing, as demonstrated by Splinter somehow finding out about every single secret they brushed under the rug as turtle tots. If they could all slow their breathing enough through focused meditation, they could stop their heartbeats just long enough to startle the rat into summoning the Rat King and finalizing the plan. They just needed to focus and put their full trust in the plan.

      “I don’t know Don…” Leo glanced uncertainly towards the dark doorway the Rat King had disappeared through hours earlier when he announced he would be retiring to bed, “He knows so much about us somehow. He might recognize it as a ninja technique immediately.”

      Donatello frowned. He hated to admit it, but Leonardo had a point. All of them suddenly dropping dead would definitely be suspicious. However, “Leo, the time has come for you to get some use out of those online acting classes.” He announced with a sigh, “Raphael will play dead alone. It will be up to us to convince the Rat King that he needs immediate medical attention. Then you can convince him to let you out to take care of Raph.”

      “Then I can get my swords and portal you out!” Leo beamed, “Don, you’re a genius!”

      “Wait- you want me to do the whole breathing thingie alone?” Raph fretted, “I don’t know Don, you know I’m not great under pressure.”

      “You have to be.” Donatello replied, “Because Mikey’s out there alone.”