Chapter Text
Chapter 1 cover
In his mind, Raphael’s voice sounds distant, distorted, meaner than it had actually been.
“What is it gonna take for you to be serious, Leo?”
Leonardo shifts to the side in his bed, eyes stubbornly closed, fully intending to coerce his brain into sleep mode. He focuses on the little things: the soothing feeling of the sheets tangled around his legs, the background noise of the sewer’s waterfall he still isn’t entirely used to, the faint glow of the lava lamp he can make out even behind closed lids.
“I’m responsible for keeping us safe -”
He huffs an exasperated sigh. They have been over this countless times already. Just because he’s the big brother doesn’t mean Raph gets a free pass to patronize them.
No, nooo, he catches himself, you’re thinking again. Stop thinking. How hard can it be? He should ask Donnie for his opinion. Ask for a score on a very scientific scale, like, a range from Animal-Crossing-easy to Dark-Souls-difficult.
“‘Cause if I don’t?”
How come he recalls this little speech so clearly, anyway? He’d done such a great job in not paying attention, flipping through his Jupiter Jim comic like he meant it. He would gloat about his multitasking skills, had he been able to remember one single word he'd read. Gotta add “rereading the whole issue” to his to-do -
“You could all end up dead.”
His eyes snap open of their own volition and he groans, sitting up on his bed.
A sideway glance to his alarm clock tells him it’s almost five in the morning.
Okay, so his idiot brain won’t let him sleep. Time to try another strategy.
He lets his feet drag him between the boxes scattered all over their new home, and tries not to seem too relieved when he finds the door to Donnie’s car wide open.
“Knock knock,” he announces with his trademark smirk. “Room for another player?”
Surely enough, there is his brother in all his glory: sitting crossed-legged in his gamer’s chair, upgraded controller in hand, gaze set on the screen with hand drawn eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“Hades isn’t exactly a two-player game,” he deflects, but the second seat innocently waiting beside the desk tells a different story.
Huh. Funny how Donnie always has another chair around on the days Leo and Raph get into a fight.
He tries not to read too much into it as he contently takes his spot beside his twin. “Ooh, is this the game you were talking about purchasing two days ago?”
“Purchase-? Hah!” Donatello snorts, before throwing a glance in Leo’s direction. “Oh, you were being serious. Then, yes, I suppose you could say this is the game.”
"What, couldn't afford buying it?"
Donatello makes a face. "It's not - it doesn't have anything to do with money! I just wanted to see if I could crack it. A little hacking practice of sorts."
That was maybe his most blatant lie to day. Leonardo chuckles but settles more comfortably in his chair and doesn't pry any further.
"Hey, I was wondering. Would Animal Crossing versus Dark Souls make a good scale for rating something from easy peasy to impossibly hard?"
"Meh. Dark Souls isn't all that difficult,” Donatello shrugs. “And the only reason you think Animal Crossing is easy is because your poor excuse of an island doesn't require much work."
"First of all, ouch. Second -"
A strident beeping sound cuts him off, coming from another screen behind them.
"- is this a Dee-talks-bullshit detector?"
Already Donatello has put his game on pause and fled to the opposite keyboard.
"I've been monitoring the Foot Clan's hideout after today's… incident." His tone is carefully factual, but Leo winces all the same. "Hmm. I don't recognize this energy signature. Visual data required."
A security camera feed shows up on the screen, but it’s difficult to make anything out of it. The contrast is off. The glass dome in the middle of the abandoned islet the Foot have recently settled in is pierced with a blinding, supernatural beacon of light.
They blink, and the phenomenon is gone.
Donnie is immediately running through graphs, squinting at the video feed, rewinding it to watch the bright ray of light surge from nothing and disappear just as fast.
Leonardo grimaces. "That can't be good."
His brother hums noncommittally. “There’s not much I can do from here to investigate further.”
“Yeah, we’re totally gonna go and get a proper look,” Leo agrees.
"Should I wake the others up?"
Maybe it shouldn't, but the question takes Leonardo by surprise. It still startles him, this new dynamic between them. Not that Donnie didn’t ask for his opinion before, and it’s definitely not like he doesn’t argue with pretty much everything Leo says anyway, but these days it really feels like he's waiting for instructions.
Leonardo can't for the life of him begin to grasp why it seems so easy for his brothers to trust him with this leadership thing, when he has spent so many years thinking none of them had any faith in him.
When he's not even sure he trusts himself.
"Nah," he brushes off, "better make a little scout mission first. Wouldn’t want to get everyone up for nothing."
Donnie lifts an eyebrow at him. "But this might be related to the stolen artifact."
"Well, we can't know for sure before we go and see, right? Come on! Little twins adventure, just the two of us, ninja in, ninja out,” Leo cheers with a playful elbow nudge.
“I don’t know, Leo…”
“We’re just gonna watch from a safe and reasonable distance, I swear. Let you do your nerd thing with data collection or whatever and hit the road.”
When Donnie doesn’t say anything, Leo goes for the win.
“You know what? The moment you want out, I’ll portal us back here, no questions asked!”
That seems to do the trick, because Donatello nods and goes to switch shells.
Leonardo does not, in fact, portal them back home at Donatello’s demand.
If he were half the genius he says he is, then he should have seen this coming, so it’s kind of his own fault, really.
“What do you mean, not yet? I observed everything I could from here, now I need to get back to my lab and start -”
“But we’ve only just arrived and we haven’t actually seen anything!” Leo complains. “Your fancy mystic wrist said there were lifeforms on the island, right? We should definitely go check.”
Donatello pinches the skin between his eyes with a sigh. His brother isn’t entirely wrong. The cargo Leo has teleported them to is too far from the scene for them to lay eyes on anything interesting, but Donnie’s scanners can’t lie: there are multiple living beings gathered on the island.
This shouldn’t be too alarming, he knows. Yes, they had thought the Foot Clan would take a while longer to recover from the whole Shredder situation, but even if they were back to business, it couldn’t mean too much trouble. Dark Armor aside, they had never been that great of a threat before.
However, Donatello is getting mixed signals here. He does not like how indecipherable his energy readings are. In his room, he had thought the sudden peak in the graphs was screaming mystic energy; his goggles categorically refute that theory. He can’t think of any other explanation off the top of his head, which leaves him with more questions than he had upon first approaching the site.
And, irrational as it is, the pinkish glow pulsing from the glass dome is uncomfortably reminding him of a confrontation with a five-hundred-years-long worth of pent-up rage enemy that didn’t go so well for them.
Donatello isn’t known for listening to his instincts, yet he can’t help but feel wary.
In his own way, he tells Leonardo so.
“For the record, I still think we should have taken our brothers with us.”
“And deal with sleepy Mikey and grumpy Raphie? No, thank yyouu. Hop hop, let’s go!”
Leo doesn't let him point out that Mikey is, in fact, the grumpy one when tired. A swing of swords, blue light shimmering under his feet, and Donnie lands on uneven ground. He intuitively takes cover behind some rumble, a few feet away from the abandoned factory.
The very fact Leonardo hasn’t teleported them directly atop of the building tells him his brother is being cautious, too.
They exchange a glance as various sounds of screeching and cackling reach their ears. Sticking to the shadows, they peek over the crumbled wall.
In the ever-growing encyclopedia of bizarre creatures they have encountered, these certainly earn their rightful place. Hunched figures, covered in gruesome pink goo and bright yellow eyes at various places of their bodies with no rhyme or reason. Not two of them look even remotely the same. Positively disgusting.
“Ew, gross,” Leonardo concurs. “Where do those things come from?”
“Still no sign of mystic energy,” Donatello frowns as he scans the area, goggles on. “I’d say something about oozesquitoes, but if these have been mutated, it's with unknown DNA. How curious.”
“So, not yokai, not mutants, and definitely not Foot Clan origami. Maybe they’re friendly?”
“No, don’t-”
“Who wants some pets?” Leonardo smiles as he steps confidently out of cover, arms open in invitation.
Not friendly, Donnie mentally registers for later research as the creatures shriek and charge his brother.
He grunts and throws himself into the fight. Keeping the beasts at bay doesn't require much concentration, and they rapidly free some space around them.
"Not much more than a 4 on the Animal Crossing slash Dark Souls scale," Leo quips, sending a not-quite-mutant into the water.
"They're basically behaving like wild animals. Maybe an experiment gone wrong?"
"That your doing, Dee?"
"Har-har," Donatello deadpans as his bo sends a creature flying. He lifts his gaze towards the building and frowns harder. It isn't lit up from the inside anymore. "I don't see the Foot anywhere. Do you think they're in there?"
"Not sure. They would've heard the commotion by now," Leonardo shrugs before portalling two more beasts away. "Let's go check."
It rapidly appears that the strength of the creatures lay in their numbers. No matter how efficiently they are being sent away, there are always more coming, and the brothers' progression towards the glass dome becomes labored.
Had the fight been a notch less messy, Donatello would gladly try to invoke some kind of mystic gun with his ninpo. Not that it had any guarantee of success, but he had been meaning to give it a go, and this situation would have made an ideal first test.
"Okay, this is morphing into a solid 5," Leonardo says behind him, just slightly out of breath.
"None of them has the same number of eyes or limbs," Donatello can't help but notice as they fight their way to the abandoned building.
“Glad you’re havin’ fun - wait - is this one wearing a Foot Clan hat?”
“What?” Donatello clears off enough of an opening to afford throwing a glance in Leo’s direction. “Oh God, it is.”
Now that he’s paying attention to it, a few of the monsters are showing various signs of human remains. Across from his brother, coming from the inside of the building, even more are rushing to them in irregular waves, effectively blocking their path.
Donatello dodges a tentacle-like arm and finds himself standing back to back with a hard shell. His brother is casting his eyes on the scene around them rapidly, mouth set in a hard line, and Donnie can easily follow his line of thoughts.
Their options are running thin. To keep pushing forwards sounds ridiculous, and teleporting closer to the building might just send them right into the lion’s den. Foolish, given they have no idea what they might run into; even more so knowing they don’t have any backup to rely on.
“Got all the data you want, Dee?”
“I’ve been telling you as much for ages,” he snarks, ignoring that he’s being a little unfair. The information they have extracted here is probably worth much more than what he’d gathered from afar.
“Right. Time to head home.”
In one swift movement, Donatello clears their immediate surroundings, and when the portal opens under his feet this time, resignation has made way to relief.
In the near absolute silence of his bedroom, Raphael stretches as he lies onto his belly, then goes to shift onto his back, hears the spikes of his shell scratch against the mattress, settles on his tummy again, and huffs a sigh.
“Yeah, I can’t sleep either,” comes Michelangelo’s perfectly awake voice, making him jump.
“Oh. Sorry if I’m the one keeping you awake.”
“You’re not,” his little brother states, and his answer rolls so easily Raphael almost believes him.
But he knows all too well that Michelangelo falls on the side of the heavy sleepers in this family, and that he only ever gets restless when something is bothering him.
Needless to say, nothing bothers him as much as his brothers arguing. That has been happening a little bit too often even for his taste lately.
Dealing with the whole shift-in-leadership situation is proving harsher than he would ever have expected.
He can’t say he’s happy to see the toll this change in dynamics is taking on Michelangelo, but… he can’t deny how grateful he feels each time his little brother reaches out for him after a fight. He knows he does so more for Raphael’s sake than his own, and he wishes he could be the one comforting his little brother instead of the other way around, but it still helps.
“Welp, no point in fighting it,” Mikey half-says, half-grunts as he sits up on the futon he has unfolded on the ground. “Care for a little…” he checks his phone, “six o’clock snack?”
Raphael grins. “Sure, why not.”
Stepping down from the subway car he has claimed as his own, Raphael can’t help but glance in the direction of Donnie’s car, far to the opposite of the living room. The door is closed, but light is filtering through the blinds, and he finds some peace in that. Sure, he would rather have Donatello get some sleep than be awake in the middle of the night, but his brother has always been the nocturnal type, and if he isn’t sleeping, Raphael is glad he isn’t locked up working in his lab at least.
There’s a good chance Leonardo is hanging out with him, too, which puts Raphael even more at ease.
“Can’t promise you anything fancy,” Michelangelo grumbles just above a whisper, meaning he has noticed the glow from their brother’s room, too. “But there should be some chocolate brownies leftovers in the fridge.”
“Sounds perfect to me, big man,” Raphael assures, grinning fondly at his slurred voice. Michelangelo is really making an effort to articulate actual words, which means a lot given that he usually doesn’t bother forming sentences when he hasn’t had his healthy dose of rest.
His brother even goes through the trouble of smirking back at him at the nickname, and Raphael can finally feel himself relax.
It doesn’t last, though. The two brothers are only just walking through the threshold of the kitchen when the strange, distinctive swoosh of a portal opening up freezes them in their tracks, quickly followed by the sounds of feet meeting the ground and hushed voices.
There is no mistaking it: it’s coming from Donnie’s room.
Raphael spins on his heel and makes his way back, steps heavy, body tensing up all over again.
The door slides open before he gets there and Donatello appears, drawn eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Oh, good, you guys’re awake,” he acknowledges before taking off hurriedly to his lab, laptop under his arm.
Behind him, Leonardo squirms awkwardly, like he has just been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
Aggressiveness is bubbling up in Raphael’s gut already. He instinctively looks over the two brothers: they seem a bit sweaty, but unscathed.
Don’t panic. Don’t overreact.
“Holà, mi hermanos,” Leonardo greets them, and Raphael has to clench his hands into fists to not grab him by the shell and shake the cocky attitude out of him. “Uh. Emergency meeting in Don’s lab, I guess?”
“What kind of emergency?” Michelangelo asks, concern seeping out in his tone.
Leonardo trails after their brother. “Uuuh… Foot Clan emergency?”
“WHAT?!” Raphael barks as they fall in stride.
“Shhh! You’ll wake Dad up,” Leonardo shushes, effectively pushing on another one of Raph’s buttons.
“Like that’s the one thing we should be worrying about right now.”
“Well, duh. Can’t have him go all Worried Dad mode.”
“Couldn’t you think about that before, oh I don’t know, deciding to leave the lair on your own?”
“I wasn’t - I took Donnie with me!”
“That just makes it wor-”
“Will you two just shut up?” Mikey snarls, and his big brothers immediately fall silent. Eyes wide, they watch as he goes straight to Donatello, already busy connecting what looks like a micro camera to his computer. “Donald. Explanation.”
The genius throws him a confused look, but complies. “Put the Foot Clan’s quarters under surveillance. Alarm went off. Went to check. Stumbled upon this,” he lists off before gesturing to the giant screen now displaying footage of their trip to the wrecked islet.
“Sheesh, ugly,” Michelangelo hisses at the sight of the pink-ish, gory monstrosities. He sounds a little more like himself, and Raphael shakes out of his stupor.
“Some kind of mystic animals?” he suggests.
“Not that I can tell,” Donnie answers. “Best theory here is more in the order of ill-mutated Foot goons.”
Raphael gulps audibly. This is a whole new level of mischievous mystery. Does it have anything to do with the rocky thing the Foot had stolen earlier? Why would anyone willingly transform into such horrific monsters? He trusts Donatello with everything he has, but he needs all the assurance he can get.
He turns to Leonardo for confirmation, only to find him distantly staring at his feet, an unreadable expression across his features.
Raphael frowns and replays the conversation in his head to try and find what –
That just makes it worse.
Oh. Had he really just implied Leonardo would better go all alone than bring any of his brothers with him?
Raphael sighs as guilt grips his stomach. He hadn’t meant it, of course, it had just… escaped him. He really needs to step up his game when it comes to self-control.
Donatello doesn’t give him an opportunity to make things right, though. “What bugs me is the nature of this spike of energy,” he mutters behind his knuckles, arms crossed, right hand resting over his beak. His focus on the graph in the bottom of the screen is getting closer to a glare by the minute. Raphael’s own gaze keeps moving back to the recording, where the creatures visibly scream and squirm as Donnie and Leo hit them out of their way.
His brothers are putting them aside but aren’t killing them, he notices.
“Are they still, you know… conscious?” Raphael brings himself to ask.
“… I’m not sure. They did seem to want to keep us from getting to the building, but that’s hardly any indication of sentience. If I had to make assumptions, I would say they’re dealing with some kind of unwanted side effect. Although, there is a probability they are still… in there, somewhere.”
“Maybe they’re not beyond saving,” Michelangelo murmurs, bless his soul.
“Boys! What is this all about?”
The four of them cringe at their father’s voice.
Right. New lab. Not soundproof yet.
“Heyyy, Pops,” Leonardo starts, always the one to try and save the face. “Sorry we woke you up, just got really excited about this new VR game, y’know?”
That is the moment Footage-Donnie chooses to turn from the fight and face Footage-Leo, and Splinter gasps. “Purple! What is the meaning of this?”
Ah, Raphael grimaces, Splinter’s going for the weaker link.
“What, this?” Donatello snickers nervously. “Yes, no, this is totally a new A+ video game and not, you know, anything that has actually happened only moments ago. At all.”
This, of course, tells Splinter just enough to probe further. He narrows his eyes at the now paused feed on the screen.
“Is that…? What were you doing in Foot Clan territory?”
Leonardo flies to Donnie’s rescue.
“Err… you see, there was this strange beacon of light, and -”
“- and the two of you decided to go alone?!”
Raphael can feel himself nod before he registers doing it. Donatello gives him an apologetic pout. At least, one of them is feeling bad about it.
“We didn’t mean to engage,” Leonardo justifies, “we just wanted to make a quick check.”
Somehow, Raphael has a hard time believing that. He wants to say as much, but Splinter sighs, and the look on his face is one he knows all too well.
It is the “serious leader talk” look. He has been on its receiving end often enough to recognize it when he sees it.
“If you thought this was worth investigating, you should have woken us up, Blue. We would have gone with you.”
An odd expression crosses Leonardo’s face again, but it is gone in a blink, replaced by a confident grin.
“Well, we’re all awake now, aren’t we? And Donnie has had the chance to do his data collection thing, so why don’t we hear him out?”
Splinter exhales audibly and turns to Donatello, who is already looking back at his readings.
“I have enough material to study for the rest of the night,” he begins. “We just have to make sure the creatures don’t leave the island while I try to figure out what their whole deal is.”
“Aren't we gonna need to go to the source for that?” Michelangelo asks.
“We are, but not before I discover how the Foot goons have transformed. Leo and I are fine, which is a good sign, but if something is capable of messing with DNA out there, I'd rather know what it is before going back.”
“Fair enough,” Raphael says. “How do we keep them there? Can they, like, swim or something?”
Leonardo shrugs. "The few I sent into the water didn't seem to like it much. I don't think they'll cross the river to the city."
Loud beeps pierce the air. Donnie and Leo both freeze.
"Again?!" Leonardo whines.
"What the…" Donatello trails off, fingers hovering above his keyboard. "The signal… it changed location? To…"
"- the middle of New York?!" Mikey gasps as a street map materializes onto the screen.
"Could that be a different beacon?" Raph asks hurriedly.
"No - no, there's no energetic signature on the island anymore. I'm pretty sure it's the same one."
"So it can move around. That’s… not too bad, I guess?” Leonardo ponders aloud. “Whatever this is, at least it’s not just popping up everywhere at the same time.”
Donnie must have hacked the city security cameras system, because live coverage of the urban center appears. Atop what looks like Metro Tower, a bright, vertical ray of light bursts into life, and disappears just as soon.
"We gotta do something!" Mikey yells, body straightening in alert, ready to bolt.
Raphael’s Hero Senses are shouting the same thing, and his body is already puffing with energy, but Donatello’s cautiousness is putting him on edge. Indecision seems to lock them all in place.
Splinter takes a step forward. "Purple, are you certain the pink matter doesn't spread through the air?"
"Positive. My scans didn't detect anything implying airborne transmission."
"Then, as long as we are careful not to touch it, we will do whatever we can to help.”
The feeling of wary confusion lightens its grip on Raphael's mind. Right. Help. They can do that. Splinter gives him a purposeful nod, and his dad’s unfaltering trust gives him just what he needs to take the lead.
“Okay, Mad Dogs, here’s the plan," he straightens up, hands motioning for emphasis. "Get closer to that signal, give the people there some time to escape. Call Draxum on the way in case he knows anything useful. And call April to make sure her family’s safe.”
“Game on,” Leonardo approves, determination darkening his eyes.
Donatello types some quick commands on his mystic wrist tech. "If we get close enough to the source, we might find a way to shut it down."
"We got you, New York," Michelangelo whoops as the family makes its way up to the garage.
As they crowd inside the Turtle Tank, each taking their usual spot with familiar pre-mission banter, Raphael wonders why he feels on edge. This isn't the first time they face mysterious threats with unknown odds. Hell, this isn't even the first time in this year alone.
But they had known what they were up against with the Shredder. They'd had Splinter's heads up - which hadn't been all that reassuring, sure, but at least they hadn't been left in the dark like they were now.
Something about this rubs him the wrong way.
A soft, warm hand lingers on his forearm. His gaze lowers to where his father stands beside his seat, watching him with an open expression. Splinter tilts his head in his brothers' direction, then winks at him. There it is again, shining in his eyes: trust. Not just trust in him, personally: trust in them, in their strength, in the bond pulsing between them.
Raphael winks back at his dad.
If there is something the Shredder has taught him, it is that, as long as they are together, they are going to be fine.
The sky is red, a spaceship is clutching on Metro Tower with giant pink tentacles, cars and rubble are flying off in the distance, and Michelangelo freezes.
This has got to be a bad dream.
“Okay, if no one will say it, I will say it. What the fuck is going on?" Leonardo squeaks.
"Language," Raphael automatically berates, but it is absentminded.
Donatello seems like his brain might overheat at any second. "A spaceship? In New York?? Well of course it had to be New York-"
"So the legends were true," Splinter whines, and they all turn to him.
The last time Michelangelo has seen that look on his dad's face… well. He doesn’t think he’s seen it before.
"Dad?" he calls as gently as he can.
He doesn't get any answer. The whole world around them is roaring, shifting, tearing apart at the seams, but what terrifies him most is the implication that somehow, Splinter is bearing the burden of yet another apocalypse prophecy.
Hasn't he been through enough already?
Something inside him is getting angry. He pushes it down.
He distantly hears his brothers processing the situation in increasingly panicked voices, but his focus falls from the building they have climbed onto to see people fleeing buildings and traffic. It triggers a memory of a wildlife reportage, and all Mikey can think of is ants fleeing a burning anthill.
The loud roar of engines pierces his ears, prompting him to gaze back up at the sky. Above their heads, U.S. army aircraft are opening fire on the floating abomination without apparent success.
A nightmare, his mind whispers again. What else could this possibly be?
"We need to retreat."
The words sound so foreign it takes Michelangelo a moment to register them.
“But Pops -”
“Raphael, there’s nothing we can do about this right now.” He points out to the streets below them. “What we can do is help citizens escape and think of a plan.”
Donatello huffs with frustration. “So we’re gonna, what, let aliens settle in and just hide away?”
“Until we get a better understanding of what we’re up against, yes.”
Splinter’s tone doesn’t really leave room for argument, but Leonardo seems conflicted. “What if we don’t have that kind of time? For all we know, things might just get worse.”
Their dad sighs heavily. “I don’t know much about these invaders, but they might be more powerful than anything we have come across up until now, and there are too many lives at stake. We can’t help anyone if we’re down.”
“Dad’s right,” Michelangelo hears himself say. “Safety first. We can still razzmatazz later.”
Raphael locks eyes with him and gives a firm nod. Donatello’s brains must have come to the conclusion that this is the right course of action, because he strengthens his grip on his tech bo and turns to Splinter, awaiting his signal. Leonardo seems like he’s about to say something, but decides against it and unsheathes his swords in wordless approval.
Splinter straightens up. “Draxum said he was on his way to our position. Until then, we will help where we can. Be careful: military could mistake us for enemies. Don’t get too close to them.”
The look on his face hardens, though from determination or worry, Michelangelo isn’t sure.
“Most importantly, stay together. Stay safe.”
With that, Splinter hops down the roof’s fire escape, followed by his four sons.
The next moment, they are plunged in the middle of utter chaos.
If he wasn’t so focused on keeping the army of weird alien dogs at a distance, Mikey would joke about having often imagined roaming the streets among humans, though never like this.
But there are too many enemies at once, and as he puts his training sessions with Raph and Donnie to good use, his father’s words are all that resound under the surface of his focus, sinking into his soul, seeping into his bones.
Stay together.
Stay safe.
April is climbing down the sewer ladder as fast as she physically can.
The boys had told her they were going to try and help upstairs, but she doesn’t know much more than that, given that she has stupidly broken her communication bracelet while fighting her way out of the college.
Now, she has no idea where they are, and with the whole alien invasion going on, the not-knowing is already starting to freak her out.
Both her parents are working in suburban zones that haven’t been touched by the attack yet. She told them she was going to the safest place she knew, which, while not very specific, was still very true. They must be worried sick, and she will go to them as fast as she can, but she has to go to the lair first. See if the family is back home. Grab another tech bracelet if not.
She needs a way to talk to them.
As she passes the numerous security systems with her own access codes, it appears the family is still up there. She grunts through gritted teeth and makes a beeline through empty rooms to the lab, then lets out a relieved sigh as its doors accept her password: Donatello hasn’t set up the full lockdown protocol. She is in.
It’s easy enough to remember where he keeps his spare tech and to put a gauntlet on. She narrows her eyes at the wrist screen, trying to locate the icons of the turtles in New York.
“Donnie?” she calls through the com link. “Donnie, can you hear me? Where are you?”
“We’re here,” his voice answers right in time with the telltale hiss of the garage door sliding open. A bit of the stress evaporates from her shoulders as she runs to meet them.
“Guys! Is everyone –“
Raphael rushes past her in his ninpo form, red mystic arms holding a very wiggly Michelangelo with caution.
“Raph, I can walk, put me down –”
“Quarantine pod #3,” Donatello instructs. Raphael settles Mikey in a containment unit the size of a closet and carefully zips its seals while Donnie turns a few monitors on.
April lifts an eyebrow. “Quarantine?”
Donnie doesn’t look up from the ventilator he’s powering up. “Mikey has been bitten by an alien hound.”
“I said I feel fine!” the youngest brother protests. April only now notices how his left hand is rubbing his right arm. “It doesn’t even hurt.”
“While I am glad the injury isn’t serious, Mikey, we still need to make sure you aren’t compromised,” Donnie explains.
“Your brother is right,” says a deep voice that April has learnt not to find menacing. Draxum comes to a halt besides Donnie and quizzically inspects the turtle in confinement. “There is no trace of alien growth on you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be cautious.”
“Okay, I’m locked down now, can someone please check on Dad?”
“Where’s he?” April asks in alarm, eyes flying back to the entry of the garage.
There at last comes Leonardo, expression somewhere between confusion and anger. He holds Splinter close to his chest.
“Oh, my head is killing me,” the rat groans.
“Splints!” she yelps, and helps Leonardo settle him down on a chair.
“April, can you check for concussion signs?” Donatello asks.
“Right, huh, Splints?” she calls for his attention, kneeling beside him. “You hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re kind of loud.” His words are slurred; his eyes are open, but he is blinking a lot.
April lowers her voice. “Do you feel like throwing up?”
Splinter shakes his head with a wince.
“Does it hurt anywhere other than the head?”
“Not really.”
“Good,” April sighs, standing up. “He definitely has a concussion, though it doesn’t look too bad. We’ll have to keep an eye on him for a few days. Let him rest.”
Leonardo, who still hasn’t said a word, tenses next to her. She turns to him. He seems lost in thought.
“Raph’s gonna take him to his room, keep him company,” the big brother decides. As he carefully lifts Splinter from the chair, April rests a hand on his forearm.
“Need some help with that, big guy?”
“No.” Raphael’s tone is dry, and April reflexively pulls her hand away. His eyes fly briefly to Leonardo, who won’t look at him. “I could use some space right now.”
He leaves the room with his father, and Leonardo leaves in the opposite direction not a moment later.
April fidgets with the chair’s back. It feels like they really don’t have time for this.
“Okay, Donnie, spit it out. What happened up there?”
“You know, I would really appreciate not being the family mediator. Twice in the same day is getting -”
“Donnie!”
“Fine! Fought off alien creatures on the streets, bought some time for people to run, got crushed by numbers soon after Draxum joined us. Dad called it off, some of us didn’t agree, Mikey got bitten, Dad got stunned. Here we are.” Donatello turns away from his screens for a second and his gaze scans her from head to toes. “You?”
“I’m good.”
“Your parents?”
“Safe.”
Her answers combined with her apparent physical integrity seem to be good enough for Donatello. He gets back to his conversation with Draxum and Mikey, deep into theories she can’t begin to comprehend. She only hesitates for a minute before she takes off, too.
It doesn’t take her long to find the some of us Donnie had referred to.
Leonardo is pacing back and forth in the garage like a caged lion.
“Hey, Leon,” she warns him of her presence.
He throws her a look but doesn’t stop.
“You good, big sis?” he asks.
“As much as I can be in the middle of… all this. Any idea what’s going on?”
“Didn’t Donnie tell you?”
“Yes and no. Draxy and him are a bit too much for me.”
“Yeah.” Leonardo finally stills, but his body won’t stay put, and his hands gesture wildly as he speaks. “Long story short, some alien jerks are invading Earth with New York as their focal point. Might have something to do with the Foot Clan. In any case, they somehow can transform people into monsters, human military can’t take the damn ship down, and here we are, knowing nothing and doing nothing.”
The last part is spoken uncharacteristically sharply. Leonardo sometimes gets frustrated, but it isn’t often that he sounds downright furious. April takes a few steps closer to him and chooses her next words with care.
“I haven’t seen much besides angry red sky and big black doggies, but it seems to me like this is out of our control. I think it’s for the best we let our paranormal experts analyze the situation before doing anything harsh.”
“But we’re supposed to be protecting this city. We can’t take our sweet time running fancy tests and let those bastards gain territory-”
“We’re not letting them do anything,” April corrects gently, “we just won’t run head first into something bigger than we can -”
“I have to fix this, okay?” Leonardo snaps, crossing his arms and leaning against the Turtle Tank, facing away from her. “The Foot stole something yesterday that might have a connection with what’s happening now. We could’ve stopped them but I messed up. I can’t just run away.”
April stays a few feet from him, not wanting to push him any further. She isn’t sure she knows what he’s talking about. It sounds absurd. “Hey, whatever caused this, it can’t be on you alone,” she states. “What matters now is that we watch each other’s backs. Heroes are no good if they’re dead.”
Leonardo gives a humorless chuckle. “Sometimes, you sound just like Dad.”
She doesn’t know what to make of it.
A moment passes in silence.
“We’ll figure it out,” she finally tries. “Draxum and Donnie are on it. Splints and Mikey will get better. And Raph and you will come up with a plan. That’s something you’re both good at.”
Leo hums noncommittally.
“And of course, I’ll kick alien ass harder than any of you,” she jokes tentatively. “They’ll be so afraid of me they will apologize with flowers.”
“You are a menace, O’Neil.” Even with his back turned to her, April can practically see him roll his eyes.
She feels her confidence boost up. As small of a reaction as this is, she knows she has won him over.
Sure, things have grown a little tense between him and Raph with the leadership transfer, but that’s nothing they can’t overcome, and Splinter has been taking his share of accountability up a notch since the Shredder. In such a serious situation, she's confident the brothers will put aside their disagreements and work together.
They will have to.