Chapter Text
The start of the new month was fast approaching, and with it heightened anticipation for the Forward Awards, the annual celebration hosted by the City Chamber of Commerce recognizing influential local women for their contributions to the community. It was one of one of the City’s most prestigious events, attended by business leaders, city officials - including the mayor - and other esteemed guests. April had been surprised, and humbled, when she received the notification that she’d been nominated for the award for outstanding professional achievement. It was the first time she – or even more notable, anyone at Channel 6 – had ever been nominated for a Forward. Though he adamantly denied it, the running theory was Burne Thompson had been the one to submit her nomination package, especially as her Broadcaster of the Year award had no doubt been a prominent feature. To April’s embarrassment, many in the office had started acting as if she had already won, though the winners wouldn’t be made public for another few days yet. The turtles were also eager to congratulate her on her win when she and Irma met up with them the lair for movie night a few days before the winners were due to be announced.
“You’re racking up quite the number of awards lately, April,” Raphael said, handing her a bowl of popcorn.
“I haven’t won yet, guys. And there’s no guarantee I will. Plenty of other people are nominated as well.”
“Yeah, but how many of them have also won Broadcaster of the Year?” Michelangelo pointed out. “That’s gotta count for . . . a lot, right?”
April quirked her lips uncertainly. “The other nominees have so much more experience than me.”
“Experience?” Raphael scoffed. “Wasn’t there a miniseries not long ago showcasing your greatest hits?”
“Well . . . yeah. But that was the station. The selection committee is made up of people from a bunch of different industries, not just media.”
“Is the mayor on the selection committee?” Irma asked with a sly grin.
“No, he is not,” April said firmly. “And even if he was, that’s not a guarantee either.”
“You don’t seem all that excited about this award,” Leonardo said.
“No, I am,” she insisted. “Just being realistic is all. Better to not to get my hopes up. Also, been prepping for an interview I have coming up this week, so that’s taking up a lot of my attention right now.”
“Who’re you interviewing?” Michelangelo asked.
“Local scientist recently tapped by NASA to help them develop a new rocket fuel. Apparently, he doesn’t do interviews all that often, so Burne is especially eager for this to turn out well.”
Donatello’s head snapped up from the gadget he’d been fiddling with on the floor. “Wait, you’re interviewing Dr. Saavedra?”
“Going out on a limb here and guessing you’ve heard of this guy before,” Raphael said.
“Well yeah, his work has been an inspiration for a lot of my own! Especially his thesis on pushing the limits scientific capabilities through exploration of the impossible. Y’know, the phase transmutation ray he designed while still an undergrad at City University received a National Youth Innovators award? Used the prize money from that to found his own startup after graduation.”
“Transmutation?” Raphael said. “Uh we have a handful of villains that would love it if we were turned back into pet shop turtles so maybe let’s not spread it around that that potentially exists, all right?”
“Not that kind of transmutation. It was intended to shift states of matter from a solid to a liquid for use in things like excavation. If used on a living being, it would probably just make them explode.”
Raphael stared at him in horror. “You get how that’s actually worse, right?”
“He never built it, just developed the design schematic,” Donatello said with a wave of his hand. “Also, this was like forty years ago.” Going by the look on Raphael’s face, he was not reassured by either of those points.
“Sounds like you’re a fan,” April said, grateful that the conversation was moving away from her award nomination. “Maybe you’d be better off doing this interview instead of me.”
“Too bad he can’t. Cuz he’s talking turtle and all,” Michelangelo said. April doubted he’d meant it to be hurtful, but the pained look Donatello shot him said it had clearly hit a nerve.
“Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll ping you after I’m done, and you can listen to my interview notes. We just won’t tell Burne you got a special sneak peek of the piece.”
Donatello smiled at her gratefully. “That would be wonderful, April. Thank you.”
***
April gazed out the window at the squat, red brick building the cab had just pulled up in front of. The dark tinted windows wrapping around the sides of the two-story structure reflected the spindly shrubs growing out of the neatly trimmed band of grass on either side of the walkway that led up to the entrance. Dr. Saavedra had called April the day before and asked to move their interview from his office downtown to his lab in one of the City’s outer neighborhoods. Her news van was in for repairs and there were no others available, so she’d had to take a taxi.
The cab drove off while April walked up to the glass doors and let herself into the building. She gave her name to the security guard at the desk and a minute later a wiry older man with thick grey hair that was overdue for a trim and a couple days’ worth of stubble on his chin came walking down the hall toward them.
“You must be Miss O’Neil,” he said. “I’m Dr. Saavedra.” He was not at all what April had been expecting. Instead of a lab coat, he wore a blue flannel shirt tucked into dark jeans. On his feet, a pair of tan hiking boots. He looked like he’d be more at home in a cabin in the woods, spending his days fishing on a nearby lake, than developing a super powerful rocket fuel for NASA.
“April’s fine,” she said warmly, shaking the hand he held out toward her. “Very nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me out here. I’m about to be a grandpa again and am on-deck to watch my son’s little while he takes his wife to the hospital. Expecting the call any time now and they live in the suburbs so.” He stuck both hands in his pockets and shrugged sheepishly. April smiled that she understood. Traffic in the City, especially downtown, could be unpredictable at the best of times. When you had someplace to be in a hurry, it had an uncanny ability to freeze up for no discernible reason. “Shall we?” he asked, removing his hands from his pockets and gesturing to the hallway he’d just come down.
April followed along as Dr. Saavedra led the way deeper into the building. Even though it was early morning, the lab seemed unusually quiet. She would have expected to see people walking the halls or hear the murmurs of conversation, but every room they passed was empty. Come to think of it, the parking lot out front had been empty as well. “This is my personal lab. Since I’m mostly retired now, we just keep a skeleton staff and don’t operate every day,” Dr. Saavedra said when she questioned why there wasn’t anyone else around. “All the NASA stuff is done at their facility downtown - security clearance and whatnot. Luis,” he nodded behind them at the security desk. “And I are the only ones here right now.”
Dr. Saavedra turned into what April assumed was his office. The row of solid-looking wood bookcases against the back wall was crammed with books and years of back issues of scientific journals. Rolled up manuscripts were wedged into the gap between the top of the bookcases and the ceiling - likely in violation of the fire code – or jammed into the narrow spaces above the books on the shelves. More journals were stacked at the edge of the heavy wooden desk next to the window where they competed for space with an assortment of notebooks and file folders, as well as the computer monitor and keyboard. Just about any other surface that wasn’t occupied by papers or periodicals was taken up by knickknacks and other oddities. The entire space had an air of carefully controlled chaos that reminded April somewhat of Donatello’s lab.
“Used to bring Cleo into work with me sometimes,” Dr. Saavedra said when he caught her looking at the rectangular wire birdcage sitting on the floor in the corner under a three-ring binder filled with newspaper clippings. He gestured for April to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and went to sit in the black rolling chair behind it. It creaked loudly when he leaned backwards and folded his hands over his stomach. “So. Where do you want to start?”
“Well, the assignment is your work with NASA,” April said, clearing a small space for her phone on the desk and turning on the voice memo app. “But,” she continued, recalling Donatello’s comment from the other night. “I understand your greatest passion is exploring the impossible. I think that would make a great beginning for a story.” When Dr. Saavedra’s face lit up with approval, April knew she’d chosen the right tactic.
“You have done your homework,” he said, sounding impressed. “Yes, that has been the guiding force for my entire career. That desire, that need to push the boundaries of what is possible. It’s why NASA approached me for this project. Here,” he stood eagerly and motioned for her to follow. “Let me show you something else I’ve been working on.” April grabbed her phone and followed him down another hallway to a workroom with grey cinderblock walls. Looming in the back of the room was a large piece of machinery that looked to April like circular MRI magnets had been welded to either end of a rectangular metal plate on the floor. A thick cable connected it to a long console with rows of buttons and switches. Mounted on the wall across from the control panel was a pair of wooden shelves, empty except for a couple of hardcover books.
Dr. Saavedra flipped a switch on the console and the machine hummed to life. The top row of buttons flashed white, then one by one shifted to a steady green glow and a small screen embedded in the control panel displayed the message, System Ready. “Can I see your phone?” he asked. April looked at him skeptically. “I promise, it won’t be damaged.” She hesitated a beat longer, then turned off the recording app and handed it to him. He placed the phone on the metal plate and directed her to stand beside him behind the control panel. “Now, keep your eyes on the phone. And try not to blink.”
“What am I looking for?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” he said enigmatically.
That did nothing to alleviate April’s uneasiness, but she focused her attention on her phone sitting inside the strange device while Dr. Saavedra pressed a sequence of buttons. Between once breath and the next the phone jumped to the other end of the metal plate. She gasped in surprise and looked over at Dr. Saavedra who met her shocked expression with a self-satisfied grin.
“Matter transportation,” he said, walking over to pick up her phone. “Movement of objects instantaneously through space. Built this prototype to test a theory. Not powerful enough to transfer living beings but if NASA wants to fund this too, think of the possibilities. If we can expand the transference field enough, it could streamline how supplies - food, equipment, what have you - are delivered to the space station. Save time, money. Make longer missions on the Moon or Mars possible.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and April found herself nodding along as he described some of the other possible uses for his machine.
Dr. Saavedra turned a knob on the control panel and the machine powered down. He’d just suggested they return to his office to continue the interview when his phone buzzed. He read the text and looked at April apologetically. “Ah, that’s my son. It’s go-time. I’m really sorry. Can we reschedule?” April agreed and walked with him back to the lab entrance.
“Wait,” she said as they neared the security desk. “My phone! Do you still have it?”
Dr. Saavedra checked his pockets and made a face. “Must have left it in the workroom.” He looked at her anxiously. “I really can’t stay but go on back and grab it. I’ll let Luis know I said it was okay.” April thanked him for his time, congratulated him on his new grandchild, and hurried back down the hall.
The workroom had been empty when April and Dr. Saavedra left it, but in the few short minutes since their departure it had become occupied. A silky brown and white cat sat on the control panel and meowed a greeting to April when she entered.
“Hi kitty, where’d you come from?” Her question was answered by the sound of the breeze blowing across a cracked-open window in the wall behind the control panel. The cat walked across the console toward her, stepping on several buttons along the way. April gently stroked the soft fur on its head. “Well, since you’re here, want to help me find my phone?” The little animal purred loudly in response.
April walked around the front of the control panel and spotted her phone resting on the corner. She reached for it, but the cat bounded forward, stepping on more buttons and switches on the way, and knocked it to the floor. “Ugh, seriously?” April grumbled, stooping to retrieve it. The cat leapt down and batted the phone away. It skittered across the floor and onto the metal plate of the matter transporter. The cat raced forward and pounced on it. April ground her teeth and stepped onto the plate behind the cat, scooping it up and tucking it under one arm before it could bat the device away again. It looked up at her and meowed innocently. “Oh yeah, you’re a perfect angel, all right,” April chided as she reached down to pick up the phone.
The cracked screen lit up with an incoming call just as her fingers brushed against it. A painful jolt shot through her. Her teeth clamped shut on a scream. She felt her knees start to buckle, then nothing.
***
The security guard staring uncertainly at the eerie blue light shimmering on the other side of his desk gasped in alarm and nearly fell out of his chair when Shredder, Bebop, and Rocksteady stepped through the portal. Shredder left the two mutants to deal with the guard, as well as any other personnel in the building, and strode down the hallway. Though given the unusual quiet he suspected there might not be anyone else here. That would be to their benefit – with more time to devote to finding what they’d come for, they could complete this errand all the quicker.
He slowed his pace hearing an alarm going off somewhere up ahead. That nobody was reacting to the alert leant support to his theory there was no one else in the building. Shredder followed the sound cautiously to a workroom of some sort. A thin haze of smoke drifted around a large piece of machinery near the back wall. The alarm was coming from the machine’s control panel. Buttons along the top of the console blinked red in time with a System Overload message flashing on the display. Shredder searched among the buttons and switches for the one to deactivate the machine. The alarm cut off immediately and the flashing lights faded out. The machine made a clanking sound, then the low hum that had just barely been perceptible under the alarm ceased. Now that he was in the room, Shredder could smell burned plastic and scorched metal. The charred, twisted device on the metal plate of the large contraption – what he now recognized was a crude matter transporter – was the likely source. He walked over to pick up the burned object and discovered April O’Neil huddled on the floor in the corner between the machine and the wall.
“Why am I not at all surprised to find you here, Miss O’Neil,” he sighed. She looked over her shoulder and blinked but made no other indication she’d heard what he’d said. “What, no smart comeback? That’s a first.” She shifted so her back was against the wall and continued to stare up at him vacantly. Her eyes didn’t look right. The pupils were oddly elongated and the color . . . Shredder took a careful step closer to get a better look.
“Home?” she said, gazing up at him hopefully. The question was surprising after her previous silence.
“No, this is most certainly not your home,” he said guardedly. She looked away and slowly climbed to her feet, using the wall to catch her balance when she wobbled and nearly fell. “Are you all right, Miss O’Neil?” Again, she didn’t respond or give any indication she’d heard him. Something exceptionally strange was going on here. It wasn’t like her to be so . . . detached.
Reining in his concern, Shredder stepped forward again and reached out to grasp her arm. A furious yowling came from the shelves mounted on the wall beside her. Shredder looked up just as a brown and white cat leaped at him, its claws out. He stumbled back with a curse, barely avoiding being scratched. The cat landed lightly on the ground and hissed, the fur along its back and tail bristling. He leveled a kick at it, but the animal danced out of the way and leapt onto the control panel. It hissed again but he dismissed it, intent on the reporter who now had her back pressed against the wall, eyes darting about in panic. He stepped forward and reached for her again. The cat howled and launched itself from the control panel, charging toward the woman. She gasped and bolted for the door to the workroom. Shredder lunged toward her to try and grab her arm but tripped over the cat winding around his feet, giving her the opening to twist out of his reach and run out of the room.
The cat crouched on the ground and growled at him, tail lashing back and forth in agitation. Shredder reached down and grabbed the infuriating creature before it could dart away again, lifting it up by the scruff of the neck. It hissed in outrage and took a swipe at him, but he held it safely at arm’s length.
“What is it you want you miserable —“ he stopped short when he noticed animal’s eyes. They were a brown so dark they seemed black, not a typical color for a cat. The look of annoyance in them when it hissed again was distinctly human – one he’d seen directed at him many times before. “Well, hello there, Miss O’Neil.” He chuckled and settled her in the crook of his arm. “Got yourself body swapped with a cat, I see.” She wriggled around and tried to jump down but he still had a firm grip on the back of her neck. “I am looking forward to hearing your explanation for how you managed that.”