Chapter Text
She was back in New York City again. The jungle of concrete and steel was not her element. She had rented a small hotel room on Church St.
Spread out on the floor were pictures, newspaper clippings and, most importantly, a composition notebook densely packed with mad scribblings.
There was something here, she could smell it. Most of the clippings and photos were related to some criminal activity. Illegal kidnapping, fighting rings of humans or animals, or large poaching and animal smuggling groups. That was the reason she had chosen to stay right outside Chinatown. She was certain this time. Over four years this was the closest she could remember getting to her brother.
She pulled the pile of photographs across the carpet, spreading them out like a street magician asking a sucker to pick a card. From the middle portion, she pulled one in particular and stared at it. A boy in partial profile running past the camera with a host of other children and a mob of dogs. Nothing but his face was in focus as the riot of color passed behind him. His hair was long for a boy’s, brown with honey streaks in a ponytail to his shoulder blades. At 13 her brother had been a lanky kid romping around the backwoods of New Mexico with piles of cousins. She flipped it over and read the back. Her mother’s handwriting:
Joshawa, 13
Then Tracker’s somewhat less flowing script describing the place time and description in detail with a string of numbers in columns for ease of organizing. This photo was the one she seemed to need to take with her on most missions even though there were photo’s of him later in life. Up to age 15, right up till the fire. His hair had started darkening, now it would probably be the same dull nearly charcoal brown she sported.
She stuck it into the inside lining of her tan duffle coat. Three o’clock was easing up on her. There wasn't really any reason for her to stay any longer. Not when she could be out looking. Tracker patted herself down, checking all the important kit was in place. Brass knuckles in the pockets of her cargo pants, chunky overly-thick knife in a scabbard against her spine. The pistols were small, and with the bulky coat over them, no one could see the holsters under her arms. She stepped out into the hotel hall and locked the door behind her. Forgot the phone
She grumbled and reopened the door grabbing the flip phone she had purchased at a gas station to call Mac. Climbing down the dirty-gray carpeted stairs she made her way to street level.
New York was busy and crowded and horrible. She hated every square inch of the place. Tracker had been all over the world. The first move when her entire surviving family, cousins, aunts, and uncles, picked up and skipped across the pond to London from New Mexico.
She had broken off not long after that, working odd jobs everywhere to pay for tickets back to America. Following a year old trail down to South America, working her way through poachers, of humans and animals. Then to China and from there to Japan. That lead her back to New York for the second time in her life. Her best lead for four years of hard work and it had come about almost by accident. One of the high-level Yakuza bosses she had been keeping an eye on mentioned his hobby of dog fighting in New York and the recent purchase of a “burned up mutt.” Something seemed off about the way he spoke.
So, she did what she was best at and followed up. Sneaking into his office building and going through every hidden paper record, downloading every file or email on his computer. A week later, when she was sorting through it all, she struck gold. An email three months old had one file attached. Grainy dark and blurry, it was the picture of a heavily burned man tied face down on a stone floor. Long dark brown hair pooled around him, along with a not insignificant amount of blood. She couldn't see his face, just the pocketing burn marks on his arms and legs. But his honey streaks had stayed. She just knew. It wasn't enough to send home for an army of siblings and cousins but she knew who it was.
Her father ran a tight household and nothing short of a clear photo of his face would let her call on the sheer numbers her family could supply. And if she was wrong like the first two times? She thought back to Markus, her brother’s partner before the fire and how she had called him across the world on a hunch only to leave him with nothing, twice. Stopped him from moving on how he should, if her family was right. If Doc was dead.
She shook her head clear. Being surrounded by so many people screwed with her head. It made her more morbid than she normally was, more nostalgic as well. She hadn't been home in years. The big house in London filled to bursting with cousins and family far away in blood but close in spirit from years of living together. Not for her the crowded high rises. She should be celebrating. Three o’clock was the soonest the scum that ran the New York dog rings would start taking bets. She had brought two hundred twenty-seven dollars in cash. Hoping that would be enough to get her through the front door. It was all that was left of her time in Brazil.
The ring was at the north docks warehouses. She walked through Chinatown, listening to the mix of languages. She had picked up some Mandarin and a smattering of Wu but the only eastern language she could converse in was Japanese. The warehouse she had been given directions to by some, low-level scum bag in a gang called the periwinkle dragons, or something, was a bit off the water, enough that it could have an illegally dug basement just like he said. The was a man standing outside the door in a black hoodie. She had come too soon. It didn’t seem like anyone else was showing up to place early bets.
Long strides took her around the docks out of his line of sight. She picked the lock on the door of the weighhouse behind that one and slipped inside. It was the 30th of October so the sun should be low enough by 5:40. She waited. Watching through the high window of her warehouse as people began trickling in.
At one point she thought she saw a strange shadow following one of the men as he walked through the docks but it disappeared before he reached the door. She shook her head and checked the time. 5:30. She was tired of waiting. The only sign that seemed needed at the door was a quick flash of cash to show you were there to bet and not just for the spectacle. She slid the door man a 20 as she had seen some other scumbags do and he seemed to accept it as a not-in-the-gang-fee. Inside was crowded but not uncomfortable yet. People sat in folding chairs around a huge metal pit. Above her, it seemed, were the premier seats. A long balcony with a few gentlemen scumbags wearing suits to tight for them. Dog fighting normally wasn’t this big an event. She didn't know whether to take that as a good sign or not.
Sundown hit like a bag of bricks. A cheer going up from the crowd as the announcer took the stage over the pit to take bets. Two dogs, huge things with teeth for miles were set on each other and blood splattered the mettle pit. They hauled the surviving one up and hosed it off as the announcer dished out winnings and got the crowd riled up for what he was calling the pre-show. They were gearing up for something the announcer was calling a “Monster mosh.”
She edged along the wall and slipped through a back door. A long hallway ran through the back wall of the warehouse. Kennels along the wall filled with animals. Mostly dogs but a few other more exotic creatures. One seemed to be an alligator crammed into a cage much too small for it. The hall ended in a staircase that led down into complete darkness. She pulled a penny light out of her jacket pocket and descended. The sounds from above grew distant as she reached the bottom. Above her, someone opened the door and she could make out the scream of crowds and a cacophony of barking dogs before the door slammed shut and muffled the sound again. It must be sound proofed, she reasoned.
Probably to stop whatever was in here from attracting attention. The penny light swept around the below-ground hallway. It stretched farther than the warehouse it sat on and either side had doors. Thick steel doors. Tracker had seen the inside of a few prisons this didn’t look anything like one. This place looked like a dungeon. She was in deep this time. The two pistols under her jacket felt heavier as she considered what would happen if someone found her down here. Fighting her way out was not really an option. One of the doors had a humongous raggedy gap through it as if some furious animal had torn it apart and the keepers had reinforced it with steel beams. She tried to look through it, hauling herself up to level. It was completely dark but she thought there was a huge shape lurking in the shadows.
She put her finger over the penny light and slowly moved it till a tiny beam of light illuminated the cell. It was a monster, lying on its back, it looked like standing would stretch 9 ft tall. Long tendrils of green plant material wavered. Was it asleep? A huge eye opened followed by a beak-like mouth inches from her face. Filled with teeth that dug into the metal of the door scraping against the metal beams holding it inside. She let out a startled squawk and fell to the floor. The thing continued to shriek and scratch the mettle.
“Hey, hey” She cooed. “Calm down now. “Let's not make a racket.”
“Little late for that.” Said a voice through the door to her right. There was a person here. That was distressing, but promising.
“Hey,” She said through the mettle. “Names’ Tracker.”
“Raphael” He answered. “What the shell are you doing down here kid?”
“Looking for my brother, hold on I'll get you out.”
The man on the other side snorted as Tracker rummaged through the lockpicks.
“You sound like just some squirt. Get out of here kid ‘for they find ya.”
The click of the mechanism and the door swung open. Standing against the wall with chains around his neck and arms was the single strangest man Tracker had ever seen. He was short and green and bald he almost looked-
“You're a turtle?” She asked.
“You always this observant kid? Or is it just my lucky day?
“Ok, so you're also an ass. Got it. Hold this.”
She handed the man-turtle-creature a railroad spike and had him hold it against one of the links. After a few good whacks, the thing seemed completely untouched.
“Gotta say impressed kid where’d ya get such a delicate touch?”
“Lai King training center in Hong Kong.” A couple more good whacks accomplished nothing.
“Shell, give me that.” He swiped the hammer out of her hands and with one motion drove the spike through the chain and a few inches into the stone below.
“Eh, good enough,” he said wrapping the dangling portion of chain around his forearm. “Don ’ell get the rest after we get out of here.”
“Wait, I have to find my brother. There's no way you can sneak out without setting off the alarm.”
“Oh really?” He asked twirling the hammer in one hand in a dangerous looking, very weapon-like grip. “Who said anything about sneaking out?”
“Listen I got you out, so you owe me. Help me find him and then we cause enough chaos to get out, not before.” She hadn't been meaning to but as she spoke she was stepping forward, running the buff, but shorter, man-turtle against the wall.
“All right, all right. Hurry up. My friend ‘e'll be coming for me and he's not too great at keeping quiet.
“Then we better get started.”
The sounds of barking and cheering increased in volume as the door to the stage area opened. Footsteps along the stairs sent a tingle of anticipation up Tracker’s spine. Goosebumps pressed against the hard plastic of her knife sheath. They moved out of Raphael's cell and closed the door without a sound. He was remarkably good at moving without jangling the chains on him, or even making foot falls. In fact, he was damn near graceful. They walked down the long hallway side by side till Tracker found what she had been searching for.
She held up one finger and sniffed the air. Moved to one of the doors and knocked lightly twice. A few seconds later and answering knock of two quick strikes sounded.
“Doc?” She whispered.
The silence spread out as she fumbled with her lock pick set. There was a click and a second later the door creaked open.
“Who? Are you?” A man about 20 years old with shaggy taupe hair down his back sat as far towards the door as chains would permit.
“It's me Doc. Mara.”
“Mara! Why? You have to run they-” The turtle Raphael clamped a hand over his mouth before his voice could get any louder.
“Don’t worry Doc he’s a friend. We're getting you out of this place.”
Her brother nodded to the large terrapin. Raphael dropped his hand.
“How did you find me?” He whispered as they set to work on the chains.
“It took a while. Four years.” Clang, as the first one broke.”I’ll tell you everything once we're out.” Clang! Went the second.
“Mac?”
She paused and looked up at her big brother. “He's alive, The only one besides me that never gave up that you might still be-”
The cheering grew suddenly louder as the door up top opened again. The three prospective escapees stood stalk silent as the handlers wrangled the next victim out of its cage.
There was a sound like a lion ate a motorboat and got stuck in a wood chipper.
Someone screamed.
“Get it! hurry up and get it!” An inhuman crashing sound like a sack of wet flower falling down stairs, followed by a lot of human footsteps.
“Ok, times up we gotta go,” Raphel said hauling Doc to his feet. Her brother looked like a scarecrow that had been ripped to shreds and stitched together over and over. He staggered up and took a few steps forward before tripping over his bandaged legs. She caught him, looping his arm over her shoulder and they stumbled out after Raphael.
Far above them, the announcer was riling up the crowd.
“Our main event is coming up gentlemen. In just a few moments we're gonna bring out the true spectacle of the year. New York style Monster Mosh.”
Turning the corner they saw the source of the ruckus. A dozen men dressed in painful clashing colors were chasing after the biggest alligator Tracker had ever seen. It had freed itself of the chains and was creeping down the hallway with incredible speed.
“Why are we running toward that!” Doc yelled as they ran up the hallway toward the growling mass of scales. Behind the alligator was a crowd of punks with those dumb fuchsia dragons plastered all over. Tracked fumbled with her holster. Only one hand free the other one dragging Doc. She managed to pull out a pistol and attempted to chamber a round without dropping it or shooting her brother.
Raphael broke from their little group, sprinting ahead into the mass of bodies clogging the corridor.
“Sorry about this big guy.” She heard Raph say as he vaulted over the alligator, landing on its snout and wrapping a bit of chain around it before hurling it toward the mod of gang members scrambling to get out of the way.
“Wow, Where’d you find him?” Doc asked as they ran through the chaos Raphael left in his wake.
“I got your monster mash right here! And its name is Casey Jones!” Someone screamed into the announcer's microphone as they ran up the stairs.
“Casey!” The turtle-man yelled and put on a burst of speed that left the two trailers in the dust.
“We're never gonna get out through that!” Doc yelled as they turned through door, and saw their turtle friend and a guy wearing a hockey mask fighting off waves of gang members with sports equipment. They were impressively holding their own for now but soon sheer numbers would do them in.
“I have an idea,” Tracker said. “Stay here.” She set her brother down in a corner hopefully away from the worst of everything and bolted back down the stairs.
“Hey! Bird-weed-snake-thing.” She said to the door she had first looked through. A screech answered her. “I was trying for stealth, but I believe that option has flown.” She pulled a hunk of white mush in a plastic baggy out of her sleeve along with a long black thread and a lighter- jammed the whole thing into the lock and lit it.
“Move!” She screamed as she swept past grabbing Doc by his tattered shirt. The floor gave a little shutter and a scream like a thousand nails on the world's biggest chalkboard echoed around the warehouse. Vines wriggled up the stairs behind them. And the most enormous gardening disaster in the world, broke out from behind as they ran.
“You let it out?” Doc screamed as they drove through the furry. Raphael and his masked friend seemed to understand the situation. They were likewise attempting to wade toward the exit, as vines wiped around the confined space picking up guests and sniping into them with its bird-like toothed maw.
They limped through the chaos; no one paying them much thought. The other two in the center seemed to be drawing the mob’s anger. Hauling themselves through the warehouse door Tracker had snuck through half an hour earlier, Doc twisted his head around to look for the other member of their rescue party.
“We have to help them,” He said as they were knocked out of the doorway by fleeing gang members.
“No, we don’t.” Tracker grunted dragging them further from the carnage.
“They’ll be killed Mara. Give me your pistol.” He held out the hand that wasn’t looped around Tracker for support.
“Right... You can’t fight. Can you even change right now?” She asked.
Doc looked down at his hand for a moment and shook his head.
“Fine, take this.” She handed him one pistol and an extra magazine. “And don't die. I invested too much time for you to die before Mac gets to see your scrawny ass.” She pulled him, hugged to her chest, a relative distance from the warehouse and set him down against a brick wall.
He pulled her close for a moment before slumping to the ground. “Thank you, Mara.”
“Anytime Bro. Be right back.” She squeezed his shoulder before surrendering to the change. Letting it morph her bones and pull her muscles, she halted it at the balanced halfway point. Now covered in short brown fur and armed with claws the length of her human fingers, she toar back through the crowd.
She broke through the wall of bodies at the entrance and met up with the two going the other way, or trying to. The hockey-masked guy had a tentacle around his leg. Raphel was hacking at it with her hammer as the other kept thugs off his back with a bat. Tracker took down one closing in from his blind side and shot into the tentacle a few times till it released its hold on the masked human.
“What're you doin’ kid? Get the shell outta here!”
“Who's the hairy girl?” The masked guy asked clubbing a gang member who had gotten too close.
“An idiot,” Raph answered throwing the hammer, knocking another one down.
She fired a few more shots.
“My brother wouldn't let me leave you. He’s- “ A vine whipped around her stomach and squeezed like a vice, flipping her off her feet and into the concrete. The pressure lifted as Raph wailed on it with a hockey stick.
“A big softy.” She wheezed, getting to her feet covered in green plant goo.
“Why? we’re doing fine.” The man she was beginning to call masked idiot in her head shot back, bashing another thug over the skull with a bat. The bird-snake-weed thing was mostly on the other side now, leaving a pile of unfortunately conscious and angry gang members between them and the door. Raph double kicked two to the ground but more piled up on him, dragging him into a one-on-one.
Tracker was almost out of her second magazine when a path opened. Like the red sea parting, gang punks flew to the left and right. Two more human sized turtles plowed through the crowd.
“Raph!” One yelled. He was slightly taller than Raphel, swinging twin swords so fast they seemed like silver streaks. Behind his blue bandana, his eyes were solid white. The other had a matching orange bandana and was twirling nunchucks everywhere, over his head and into other people’s.
“Ha! Leo what took ya so long bro?”
“Numbskull.” The blue one shouted back, voice filled with relief and affection.
They kept the path open long enough for everyone in the little band to get out the door. As soon as they were clear Tracker bounded off, swept her lanky brother onto her back in a fireman’s carry, and ran.
A van the size of a subway car pulled to a screeching halt beside them. A door on the side flew open and a voice from inside called “Get in!”
She tossed Doc inside and hauled herself up after him.
They drove over a few chain link fences and down roads not designed for something this big. Tracker gripped one arm around her brother and the other on the nearest steady thing she could find. It just happened to be Raphael's Shell.
The monster of a car twisted down the streets of New York without causing much more than a few honks. Tracker would have been impressed with the skill if she wasn't so terrified and exhausted. Just when she thought she had gotten used to the terrapins’ pace they turned down a dead end street with a building at one end. The driver did not seem to be slowing down. Seconds before they hit the wall she screamed. The building’s interior wall lifted up and, still screaming, they plummeted down what looked like a subway tunnel.
“What?” Tracker shook her shaggy head.
“Hidden entrance, cool right?” The drive answered.
“We did it.” She said pushing herself up. Not the best idea in a moving vehicle. The blue banded turtle caught her before she smashed them both into the floor.
“Who exactly are you?” He asked putting her back on her feet. She stood over her brother and really looked around the huge car. A jumble of monitors and other tech covered the walls. Raphel was sitting in one of the seats and glaring from screen to screen.
The orange banded turtle was sitting across from them staring intently at her. She couldn't see the driver from where she was standing but the ‘masked idiot’ was sitting across from him agents the far wall. His hockey mask pulled up to show his face and missing teeth.
“Tracker. My names Tracker. This is my brother Doc.” She put a hand on her brother’s shoulder. God he was tall now, nearly coming up to her chest seated. She could feel his bones under his skin, not a hint of muscle or fat to hide them. She had to call everyone, she had to call Mac.
“Yo girl you're like a dog, dog.” The orange banded turtle said poking at her fairly furry chest.
The blue banded one thwap him over the head and he fell back into his seat rubbing it.
“Jeez Leo, lay off.”
“My name is Leonardo, the bozo who is supposed to be navigating is Michelangelo.”
“Yo,” He said waving at them.
“You already met Raphael. And Donatello is driving.”
“If you wouldn't mind explaining your physiology I have quite a few questions when we get back to the lair.” Said the voice from the front.
“The Lair? Where are we going?” Doc asked hauling himself and limping toward Raphael. He peeked over the shorter man’s shoulder.
“Home." The one named Leonardo answered. “I do have a few questions before we get there. For instance, how did you end up in a Purple Dragon fighting ring?”
“It’s a long story,” Doc answered still looking away.
Only then did Tracker really feel the gap. She had worked so hard for so long and everything was ok now but it wasn't, not really. She had known that not everything would go back to the way it was before. If she ever went back to New Mexico all she would find of the old home would be a pile of ash. Not everything could be fixed but-
She reached out and grabbed her brother’s arm.
“We out of the woods yet?” She asked.
“What? Oh.” He laughed and tousled her hair. “Don't get cocky kid.” That seemed to be all he wanted to say for the time being so she decided to start, not at the beginning but near enough to get the point across.
“Three years ago I ran across some information that my brother here, Doc, might have still been alive. My family was, less than convinced so I left to find him myself. It took a while but eventually I tracked him here. I snuck in and found the cell block where I met your- Raphel. We found Doc and tried to sneak out when that masked guy broke in swinging. We were way outnumbered so I let lose that weed-thing and then you guys showed up.
“Succinct” Commented driver Donatello.
“Three years?” Raphael asked looking away from the monitors for the first time during the ride.
“Four total.” She said. Her brother was slumped against the wall again, to exhausted to talk. She rested a hand on his shoulder again, feeling much the same herself. “It was a report of human-animal hybrid experimentation. My father thought it was coincidence they started so soon after- our disaster.”
“You mean your mutation?” Leo said. “Don is working on a retro-mutagen. He might be able to get you back to normal.”
“Mutated?” She looked to Doc who just shrugged. “I can get back to human whenever I want. Look.” She had to focus. It was always hard to shift to human with adrenalin still in your system. The body wanted to go the other way, like jumping in a cold river and then trying to swim upstream. She managed to get everything back to its place after a few deep breaths.
“Leo?” Donatello asked from the driver’s seat. “You should tell me if something interesting is happening.”
“You can change to human?” Leonardo said.
“Can you not? I figured you were wereturtles or something I had never heard of.”
“No, we're mutated it’s-”
The humongous car began to slow and Tracker stumbled reflexively grabbed Michelangelo’s shell to hold herself upright. Her shoes failed to grip the metal floor and she fell into his lap.
“Agh! Sorry.” She twisted and flopped out of his arms like a beached fish, thoroughly embarrassed.
“Hey, you're even cuter as a nonwolf-chick.” He chuckled.
“Looks like we're here, we can continue after we get everyone bandaged.” They disembarked and she finally got a good look at the driver. He was the tallest of the turtle’s with a purple mask around his eyes, strands of it hanging long down his back. What an odd pack. She wondered how many lived down here, and if there was more than just the one masked human.
The turtles and their now unmasked friend vaulted over gap between the car and what looked like an abandoned subway station. Doc was still moving slow, Tracker under one arm practically pulling him along. The turtle farthest behind turned to look at them. He was the orange banded one she had fallen onto, called Michelangelo. Tracker was heaving her brother out of the car when Michelangelo began to run back towards them. He sprung over her head between the gap of the door and her face and landed neatly behind them.
“Mind if I lend a hand?” He asked. Without waiting he snatched Doc up in a bridal carry and took off, easily catching up with his brothers. Tracker stood for a moment in surprise and bounded after.
Raphael sat at a large wooden table with a scowl on his face. Donatello in a chair next to him tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he bandaged minor cuts and bruises.
“And how did you get all banged up when Casey didn’t get scratched?” Leonardo lectured. The only human in the room perking up from his seat on the kitchen counter when he heard his name.
“Not his fault he's delicate,” Casey said taking a swig of beer and swinging his feet up to rest on the kitchen island.
“Here’s your next patient Dr. Donnie.” Michelangelo said setting Doc down carefully on the seat next to Raph. Tracker tapped the human Casey on the shoulder.
“Think I could get one of those?” She asked pointing to his beer.
“Sure.” He said swinging down from the counter. “Hey! Raphy-boy pass the dog girl a beer.” A can came sailing at her head and she caught it popping the top and chugging. It tasted like sour horse urine but beer was beer. She wasn’t coming back to America till she was 21, and never New York.
“Mara!” Doc exclaimed from where Dr. Donnie was tending to him.
“Please don’t move when I'm stitching.” The turtle said and pulled him back down into his seat. She almost laughed at her brother unfazed by being stitched up sans anesthetic but squirming and so opposed to the idea of her having a beer.
“I’m 18 now big brother, been drinking for years.”
“I suppose you're all grown up now.” He smiled at her. “I wasn’t sure…” He trailed off and she understood. The orange banded turtle rummaging through the fridge didn’t seem to.
“Wasn’t sure what?” He asked pulling out a bucket of cheese and a pan. Tracker did not want to know where this culinary mess was going.
As the turtle doctor worked she examined her brother. He must be used to treating wounds with no anesthetic. He was more stitches than skin. The raggedy white shirts he was wearing had been cut off revealing bruises, blisters, and cuts. He had a lot of burn scars. She knew from experience those would never go away. If she had to guess most of them came from him burning deep cuts to keep out infection. Donatello poured a bottle of something over a particularly deep puncture. It made Doc suck on his teeth. The turtle dried it off and began wrapping clean white cloth around his back.
“Can I help?” She asked standing behind, useless as a stranger tended to her kin.
“Sure, sit down across from him.” He said, then to Doc added. “If you want to put your leg up on her knee I'll see about that ankle.”
Donatello asked questions and probed at the injury. Doc explained that he was forced to fight the week before, with some guy and his dogs. The cuts were mainly bites but the break was from being thrown across the floor and landing wrong. They had over counter painkillers and heat/cold packs. Tracker wouldn't have had any of this stuff or the know how. Looking back she was glad she had gone back for the red banded turtle Raphael and the idiot in a hockey mask. They would just be hiding at her shitty hotel waiting for everything to blow over before hitting the ER.
“There You’re all done but you should take it easy for a while, some of these old injuries never healed right. It looks like this ankle broke before and that's why it was so easy to injure. It will take a longer time. As soon as you can you should see a real doctor.” Donatello said getting up and running a glass of water for him.
“Thank you. Trust me, I know. There wasn’t much I could split it with.”
“Let's see about you now Miss.” The purple banded Doctor said turning to Tracker.
“What? I’m fine.”
“From the way you were walking you are not. Lift up your shirt please.”
She debated for a moment. It was never a good idea to show wounds but he seemed to want her healthy, it was low risk.
She pulled up the front till the fabric was just under her bra. Luckily there was enough fabric to hang down and cover her back. A winding red mark covered her stomach where the vine had gripped her and ripped her off her feet.
“I have some cream that should help. Any other injuries?”
“No, this should fade in a few days. But thanks.” She said taking the proffered bottle.
“My sons.” A voice spoke behind her. Deep, with the Japanese accent of an old man. She jumped up, startled by the stranger's voice and had her pistol out and aimed before she really thought about it. In a split second her arm was bent behind her back and her grip on the gun became painful. Her brother rose out of his chair wincing at his leg. Donnie put a hand on his arm trying to push him back down but he didn’t budge.
“And who are these guests you have brought into our home?” The man behind her asked. Something felt off about his hands. They didn't feel like the three fingers of the turtles but also definitely not human.
“They're friends, Master Splinter. The girl helped Raph escape and the boy is her older brother who was captured in that forced fighting ring.”
“Truely? And what is your name child?” He asked still not releasing her from his expert hold. She couldn't even wiggle much. This guy was unbelievable, he had moved too fast for her to get a look at him. But he didn’t seem hostile, just cautious. Tracker could appreciate that.
“Tracker sir.” She answered, respectfully as she could manage from her position.
He released her from the hold. “Welcome to our home then Mis. Tracker. Thank you for helping my son but perhaps you should not be so hasty to draw a weapon in the future.” She turned around setting her gun on the table beside her. This ‘master’ Splinter who had her in an arm lock in under a second was an enormous rat wearing a purple Japanese robe. She paused for a moment. Rat-kind weren't rare just shy. Railey seen, she had only met one before. Aside from the fur, snout, and tail, he looked like a kindly old man. So this was their pack-leader?
She hated New York, rats and turtles and gangs with dumb tattoos. She needed to find a phone to get Mac on a plain with some money. Then they could figure out how to get Doc home.
“Our apologies Sir.” Her brother replied, already falling into his eldest-speaker role. That was going to take some getting used to. Like having a mini father following her around speaking for their two-person pack. Tracker edged around next to her older brother and help him stand with his bad leg. He wasn’t going to sit in front of a strange Alpha no matter how bad his ankle was. A few years in a death arena wasn’t going to erase 15 years of Nana’s manners being drilled into him. She shook her head to clear out the cobwebs. They were talking, reciting his last few days and the escape. Raph cut in a few times with the story of his capture last night.
The masked idiot, who Tracker was beginning to suspect was named Casey Jones and who liked to speak in the third person, and Raphael had been fighting the fusha dragons. They had knocked Raph unconscious with some gas and beat the shit out of Jones. He managed to follow them toward the docs and called the other turtles right before kicking down the door and began swinging.
The rat followed along with the three stories as the three boys piled interjections and explanations onto each other. When it was all done he nodded and to the two strangers standing in his kitchen and said “You will stay here for the night. In the morning we will have much more to discuss.”
“You don’t need to house us.” She risked an upward glance at Doc as he shot off his mouth. “Your family had been more than kind, but we don’t need to intrude any longer than necessary.” She willed him to stop being so thick.That wasn’t an offer of hospitality. That was him ordering them to stay so he could make sure they wouldn’t talk. Not that she had plans too but she knew how these things went. He would split them up into separate rooms and scare them into swearing to secrecy. She doubted he would outright kill them unless they refused.
“It is not wise to surface before the gangs have left the streets. Leonardo, make our guests a place.”
“They can sleep in my room Sensei.”
“That is wise Leonardo, I do not think your brothers have suitable space for guests. Before you sleep I wish to have your word. We live here in secret and though you have saved my son we are now at your mercy.”
“We will tell no one of your home. You have my word.” Her brother answered pressing a hand to his chest. The rat looked to her then, for a moment. She looked up at Doc who nodded.
“Ya, Mine too.”
That did not go the way she was expecting. Leonardo was gone, probably setting up his room to accommodate them.
“Ah man! We missed Trogdor the Barbarian.” Michelangelo said. He had finished frying what looked like balls of battered cheese and was now eating them out of the pot. Raph thwacked him over the head just as Leonardo had. All that brain trauma went a good way to explaining his strange behavior.
“You have a TV and the tapes in your room, Mikey!”
“Ya but it’s not the same.”
Leonardo returned and motioned for them to follow. She helped her exhausted brother to his temporary sleeping space and set him down on a low Japanese style bed. It looked more padded than a futon but not by much. The turtle had piled pillows on so Doc could elevate his leg and keep the ice on it.
“Thank you.” She said to the turtle-man before closing the door in his face.
“I hate to get his bed dirty but there’s no way I can take a bath,” Doc said as she helped him lay down. “Just too tired. All that adrenaline. Ehn,” He winced as she bumped his leg.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“What’s the plan Doc? Wait until they're asleep and sneak out? I don’t know if we can get past them honestly. We should swipe a phone and send an SOS. I think I know where we are by cross streets.”
His eyes were drifting closed and she could see the bunched up formality leak off him. “You always did expect the worst. Trust them Mara they're good people.” He said before his breathing evened and he fell asleep. She sat next to him for a few minutes. A thick quilt with a pillow and blanket was set up as a second bed next to her brother’s. Tracker was tempted to curl up on it and let herself shift totally so she could heal.
“Good people.” She snorted under her breath. She had been all over the world, nearly every corner and she had not found one person who was truly good, save her brother. He had been torn to ribbons his pain used for someone’s entertainment. She suspected that was how all the good people had gone extinct, long ago.
She would just have to make their escape plan with out him then. Getting a phone would be a lot easier than trying to leave the city being hunted by gangs and turtles. Father would come if she could prove she had Doc this time. Between him and Mac they might not need the rest of the pack. She would tell them to come anyway. Tracker considered no kill as good as overkill.
Another option occurred to her. She could contact Mac and her cousins directly, without father knowing. She honestly didn’t want these strange creatures dead. It would be easier to disappear without father watching her. He would want her to come home for good. If she could somehow vanish after the daring rescue she could go, somewhere, alone.
Doc would be happy moving from one prison to another but she never could. Eventually, the two boys might feel the same. Mac and Doc might want to leave, they could join her and form another pack. Just not back to New Mexico she hoped.
She blinked trying to force her brain to think shorter term.
She couldn't fall asleep just yet. Too many bad questions were kicking around in her head. She got up and snuck out. Quietly clicking the door behind her. Hopefuly Doc would sleep dreamless, for a while, before the nightmares kicked in. That there would be nightmares she had no doubt. Maybe that was what she would do next, hunt down every person who had helped or profited from their disaster and kill them.
Their hosts had mostly dissipated. She caught a glimpse of red and black near the entrance that was Raph and Casey drinking. Leonardo and Donatello had disappeared along with their Master Splinter. The only lights came from the hood of the stove and the TV, where the orange banded turtle was watching some cartoon. She walked over till she stood behind the couch. What was exopack edicate for this? They had already been introduced. Did they even operate on the same rules as her pack or some crazy turtle variant? What did turtle social structures look like?
“Wanna watch?” He asked. “I can rewind it if you want.”
“No, it's ok. What is this?”
“Only the second best show of all time, well of the 80’s. It’s Trogdor the Barbarian!”
She flipped over the back of the couch and landed next to him. He didn’t have any pockets to pick and she hadn't seen a cellphone yet.
“Pepperoni jalapeno Cheese ball?” He offered. She took one and popped it in her mouth.
“Wow that's good.” She was hardly faking. It was like a chocolate cream truffle but pizza flavored with a breaded crust around it and a cheese tomato-meat-sauce on the inside. She grabbed another.
“I know right! No one ever likes my cooking around here.”
“I like it. ‘Cores I’m so hungry right now I could eat anything.” She thought back. Her last meal must have been the leftover Chinese last night. No wonder shifting twice took so much out of her.
“Why didn’t you say so?” He asked jumping up and grabbing her around the waist before she could protest. He blasted off the back of the couch and landed nearly to the kitchen. “Here sit down.” He plopped her in a seat and began pulling out food. She did not like how easily he could move her. She would have to find out how strong these guys really were.
It took him no time to whip up a feast out of random junk out of the fridge and cabinets. It was all very odd things. Nothing she could even name but as the smells wafted past her nose couldn't help but breath in deep. It smelt amazing.
“Here try it.” He held up a wooden spoon full of green sludge and she slurped it up. Tasted like a greek salad, almost.
“Did you add mustard?” She asked.
He took a sip from the spoon. “That's perfect! I was wondering what it was missing.”
“I’m surprised you can get feta, living in a sewer.”
“There’s a Greek place a few blocks from here that actually reads use by dates.”
“On cheese?”
“They throw out the salt water.”
“Then it ain’t a real greek place. I’ve been to Greece. Everything's covered in salt brine. The people, the food, even the air. Makes having fur a pain.”
He laughed, it was no laughing matter at the time but now she could see the humor of her time as frizziest of werewolves. His laugh was contagious. When he did it his whole face scrunched up and he closed his bright blue eyes. She couldn't analyze anything hidden past them just open emotion. “You're way too cute to be a classic movie-monster, you have to be a wereshitsu or something.” She moved her eyes away from his face.
“More a bloodhound, but you're pretty cute for a turtle-freak yourself.” That was way more honest than she intended. “Seconds?” She covered, Pointing to a bowl of sardine and olive udon.
The boy looked like he was going to cry from joy. “Eat as much as you want Dudette.” He piled it up on her plate and she devoured it as he ate out of the pot with chopsticks. When was the last time she had eaten till she was full? After the point when she really should have stopped and almost every plate was empty, she leaned over the counter, her stomach an overstuffed pillow.
“I can't move.” She said.
“You gonna finish that?” He asked. She pushed the last of the deep fried green stuff filled with lighter green stuff toward him.
“So you never answered my question.” He said taking a bite off her plate.
“What question?”
“Your Bro said he wasn’t sure of something. But he didn’t say what. If it's food related I can help.”
She began to laugh but it jostled her stomach too much so she settled for chuckling through her nose. “Thank you, Michelangelo but no it’s-”
“You can call me Mikey”
“Mikey then.” She smiled, “Trust me it wasn’t food related.”
“What was it? And what should I call you? You need a cool name if you're gonna fight crime in New York City.”
“I am not fighting crime anywhere. Most definitely not in New York. I’m never coming back to this awful place.”
“Ah man.” He sounded really said about that for some reason. “Is that what he wasn’t sure about? If you we're going to stay? Cause you sound pretty sure, ummm…”
“Tracker. My name’s Tracer. If you have to know he wasn’t sure if any of us were still alive.” She sat up suddenly embarrassed for having let her guard slip. She must be really tired. This turtle-man, or turtle-boy she guessed, it was hard to tell but he couldn't be much older than her. He was looking at her with pure sympathy now. He turned away and she could tell he was sorry for pushing too hard.
r
She tried not to talk about what happened but for some reason she wanted to tell this kid. The impulse warred against her natural closed off nature but there was something in his sad slumped posture that made her begin.
“My brother was taken, four years ago during a raid on our home. Some hunters found out about us and burned down my grandmother's house in New Mexico. My mother and three of my cousins died in the fire, my baby sister died of complications from the smoke. I got this.” She pulled up her shit again exposing not only the fresh bruises but also the huge burn scar that ran down her back starting from under her shoulder blades past the line of her pants. “And they took Doc. He didn’t know what happened to the rest of us. He must have given up hope anyone was coming for him. I- I took too long.” She pulled it back down and slumped against the counter. All her fears piling up on her head.
“No, no you got him back right? Oh man, I’m sorry.” He patted her back, looked at his hands and wiped off a bit of cheese on the pink apron he had put on during the cooking extravaganza. His solemn expression did not match the flecks of cheese on his face or the heart shaped ruffled top of his cooking outfit. She choked and had to laugh at the contrast.
The tears caught as she coughed and giggled them down. It was strange how easily she could talk about this, her yearly dreaded call to Mac was always so painful, full of things getting stuck in her chest and unable to say them. Maybe it was because she had finally found Doc, maybe it was something about this kid.
He looked around his home. “I can’t even imagine. I’m sure he knew you would show up. Just like I know my bros would always come for me. Or how we find Raph when he runs off on his own.” He leaned over to whisper to her. “Don’t tell him, but Don put a chip in his shell when he got knocked out the first time.”
“The first time? Does this happen often?”
“Oh ya. Mostly to me. Don’s probably chipped us all. He gave Master Splinter a bracelet that tracks his heartbeat. How did you know your brother was still alive? Something like that?”
“No, just a feeling. We never found his body. He’s the oldest, he was always patching us up. That’s how he got the name Doc. I just couldn't believe he would have let that happen. He would have gotten Bonny out instead of mom going back for her.”
“It's always just been my brothers and Splinter, Well April and Casey too now they're kinda like an aunt and uncle, Except April's also like a big sister and Casey's a knuckle head. I always wanted a big family.”
“It’s not all that great. Splinter is your Alpha right? How did that…” She waved her hands vaguely upwards “happen?”
“Alpha? Is that like a dog thing? Splinter is our sensei he taught us ninjitsu, like HAYAA!” He did a chop. “If anyones alpha it's Leo.” He screwed up his face and did an impersonation she didn’t recognize. “He’s Top Dog ‘round here.”
“What?”
“From the B-Squad. You haven’t seen it?”
“No, why would anyone still watch super old shows like that?”
“Oh man, you have got to. There's this one episode where Mis. P is fighting a robot who thinks she’s its mother and…”
She followed him back to the couch leaving the remains of the food laying on the counter. He was a talkative little guy but she found it soothing. If she got him talking about something he loved he stopped asking so many questions and she could just float along in his sea of perpetual happiness. He must be the youngest she realized, they always seem to turn out like that.
She caught herself wondering if this was what Bonny would have grown up to be. She shot out another question about the ridiculous cartoon they were now apparently watching and let his enthusiastic voice drone through everything.
She woke up on the couch with a blanket over her. It was dark and her eyes cracked open with a sick crunch of dried goo. Behind the TV an old fashioned clock pointed both hands upwards. She had slept way too late. The room was nearly dark. Only lit by a soft glow from behind paper walls on one side of the living space. Shadows played over the paper screen. Someone was doing some sort of pose practice. Was it a Ninjutsu thing like Mikey had said earlier?
She pulled back the screen a bit and peeked through. Raphel had his twin sai out and was moving from quick strikes into blocks. His brother Leonardo was on the other side of the room shadowing his movements with his own katana.
“Shadow boxing.” She whispered to herself
“Almost, You can come in,” Leonardo said without breaking his movements. She slid the door closed behind her. The room was large and covered in handwoven tatami mats. She had never been inside a dojo but it looked exactly like one from the movies.
“You any good?” She asked Raph.
“The best.” He smirked finishing a routine and spun his sai end over end before dropping them back in his belt loop.
“You fought well during our escape. Do you study martial arts?” Leo asked still practicing his flowing sword movement.
“No, nothing formal. Bet I could give you a good run though.” She hadn't had a shower yet and she smelled horrible. Might as well get in a bit of exercise before she got cleaned up.
“Oh really?” Raph asked
“Wanna go?” Why was she so comfortable with these people? Sparing with strangers is not something she would normally do for fun. She decided it was to test them. She wanted to see what they were in for when they tried to leave.
“You're both still injured from last night.” Leonardo began. He was the eldest alright, just like Mikey had said. His voice from last night coming back crystal clear.
“Ya ya. Leo’s just scared I’ll kick his shell.”
“We can see about that. I’ll take on both of you as long as you promise to take it easy on your injuries.”
“Sounds like a plan fearless leader,” Raph answered for her. Like she was part of their pack. This was so weird. He turned to her. “Got any weapons besides those guns from last night?”
“No.” She lied, feeling the two brass knuckles in her pockets. The one on her left made an uncomfortable imprint from sleeping on it. Her knife was back still in the eldest’s room, tucked into the lining of her duffle coat. She shouldn't have left home without more weapons.
“Pick one,” Raph said pointing at a wall of weapons on the far side of the dojo.
She found something around the size of her back knife and two knuckleduster-looking things with spikes on the outside. They were made with only two finger holes but big enough that they could fit her hand.
“You have those on backwards,” Raph said from behind her. “They’re for climbing walls not fighting.”
“I think they’ll do.” She said. “Hold on.” Another pocket had a hair tie that kept back the stands long enough to get in her eyes. She did a few quick stretches and rolled her shoulders. “Ready when you are.”
Leo moved to the center of the mats and unsheathed a sword.
“Leo’s gonna take it easy on you.” Raph quipped, stepping to her side. “Don’t you feel lucky?”
They wove around him in different directions skirting the safe distance from his blade. Raph moved first. He slid up to his brother and caught the sword in the fork of his sai. Leo struck the inside of his brother’s elbow, bending it in a painful direction and Raph disengaged, flowing back to the circling pattern.
“I told you to take it easy on that arm.” Leo lectured
Tracker went next. The turtle had range and strength on her but what about speed? Two jabs to his plastron did nothing and a kick aimed at his head was dodged with almost lazy ease. She refused to back off. Sweeping under him accomplishing nothing but getting another bruise on her leg. These guys were built like tanks. She had a flash of Mac and Raph in a push-up competition, and she wasn’t sure who would win.
Leo wasn’t taking shots that were right there. She didn’t know if he knew they were a trap or he was just going that easy on her. Finally he flipped his blade around and took a swing at a shoulder she exposed. A block with the outside of her knuckles and the tiny hooks caught it. He seemed to sense the catch the second it happened and pulled his blade toward himself instead of finishing the strike that would have pulled it out of his hand.
She growled and retreated. She expected him to let her go but he had seen one of her tricks and had raised his expectations of her. He advanced as well. Stabs went over her head at what she assumed was a fraction of his normal speed. She would have been backed into a wall if Raph hadn't cut in catching it with his sai and sending a spin kick into his brother’s side.
She slid to the other side and aimed for the softer looking parts of his shell that connected the back and front. He winced a bit but with his eyes still on his brother he swept his hand around and swatted her off like a fly.
She fell a few feet back and watched the two boys spar across the floor. This was way too much. She shook herself like a dog drying off and pushed the change out through her skin. It stung like needles in every pore but she ignored the pain and pulled herself up. Leo felt her coming at him from behind and flipped his and Raph’s tussle so she would hit Raph first. Instead, she jumped over the turtle on her side and landed on Leonardo's shoulders, throwing him backward onto his shell. He flipped up and she slid to a stop.
“Was wondering if I would get a chance to fight with the Dog-Chick again,” Raph said circling behind his brother.
“Please don’t call me that.”
This time they attacked at once. Raph went low sending a barrage of punches into his brother's chest. Tracker forcing Leonardo to protect his head instead. They managed to gain ground but the eldest turtle was amazing. He grunted through punches Tracker was sure would shatter her bones. Even his blocks hurt. The moment they let up a fraction he was across the floor and drawing a second blade.
“Done playing around big bro?” Raph asked mockingly.
“I’m surprised that stomach wound isn’t slowing you down.” He said pointing his katana at Tracker’s sternum.
“It is a bit, but I’ve had worse. We heal fast.”
“No kidding?” The next attack was all aimed at her. Raph tried to intercept but Leo stepped around him with simple grace. She dodged and batted away the swords with her makeshift knuckledusters. Once she twisted out of the way and the swords grazed her back leaving a thin red line and the back of her shirt wide open.
Leonardo backed off instantly. Raph used the hesitation to catch his brother from behind and tackle him to the ground knocking the two swords out of his hands.
“Tap out bro.” Raph said
Leo side and taped the tatami twice.
They all collapsed to the floor from exhaustion.
“You lied,” Leo said through heaving breaths. “Where did you study?”
“School of hard knocks.”
Leo gave her a look that reminded her way too much of Mac before everything happened.
“A woman’s prison in Hong Kong, a bit from my father, and some from a Brazilian special ops group called The Anaconda Cable.” She said.
Raph whistled low. “Which one gave you that nasty burn?”
“Father.”
“Oh, Shell.”
It wasn’t quite a lie, he was in the end, responsible for everything that happened. She just hoped that would stop them asking questions.
“Where are you going to go?” Leo asked. “Your welcome here till you both heal but after that, are you going to live your whole life on the run?”
So much for no more questions. They were all sitting up now. Raph slumped forward, nursing the elbow Leo had bent back. They way he asked it was so honest Tracker had to wonder if he did mean it.
“You’re really planning on letting my brother and me go.”
“What else would we do?” He asked seeming genuinely confused.
“Get your super genius to rig up explosive collars or something! I don’t know! I’m not used to people giving up power over us so easily. In Hong Kong they at least called in ransom before they let me go. Brazil actually paid me but it still wasn’t exactly willing work.”
“We fight our own battles,” Raph rumbled.
Tracker squinted at the brothers. “I need a phone.” She said still not truly expecting it to be this easy. Leo palmed a green shelled monster of a phone out from somewhere and handed it over without a word. She took it and dialed Mac’s number.
A few rings, she waited.
“Mac Douglas.” Said a tired voice on the other side. What time was it in London?
“I found him Mac. Get Cristal and Gabriel and enough money for a fake passport. Oh, and don’t tell my father. We're in New York’s Chinatown. Below-.” She almost gave the cross streets they were under. The two boys didn’t move to stop her. “South of Canal.” She amended.
“You found him?” Mac yelled loud enough she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Don’t fake me out this time Amara. Not you have a lead or anything like that. You have him. You are looking at him right now.”
“Ya, he was in bad shape but alive. Some, friends, patched him up and he's asleep. I’ll have him call when he wakes up.”
“Friends?” Mac asked. “That’s why you don’t want Fang to know?”
“Mac, I found your dumb boyfriend and theses guys helped. I don’t want any weird blood debt thing from Nana and I don’t want that ass to find some reason to start a fight.”
She heard Raph whisper “I'd fight anyone named ‘Fang’.” to Leo.
“It could take a few weeks to get tickets and enough cash. Can I call this phone number and get you?”
“No, you still have my last burner number?” She asked.
“Ya, the 6280 one. I need to get some stuff ready but I want a call the minute he wakes up kay?”
“ ‘Corse Mac. You're the best man.”
“You're going to be my best man.”
“Whow, don’t you think you should ask Doc before you go making plans? At least give the guy some time.” She joked back at him.
“We already had plans Amara,” Mac said suddenly serious. “He wouldn’t have turned me if we didn’t. Have to go. You. Call back.”
“Will do.” She said a second before the click.
“Thank you for not telling him,” Leo said taking the phone back from her.
“I need to go get some things from my hotel room.”
“Clean up first. There's' a shower three doors down.” They got up, Raph cracking his back, somehow.
“Don’t use the orange towel.” He grumbled working his way up his joints. “Mikey never washes it.”
“Got it.” She said walking out of the dojo.
In the week that followed, she found exactly what Raphel meant by “Fighting their own battles.” Every other day seemed to bring them home battered and worn. Their sensei was kind and insisted they weren't intruding but Tracker couldn't help feeling useless. Then the day came where they came back minus one. Mikey had been separated from their group and as they stumbled into “The Lair” as they called it Tracker could easily tell the difference.
Normally they would be mocking and insulting each other after a good fight. Or if it had gone poorly Mikey would do something outrageously dumb and lift the mood. Now there was none of that, just a grim determination to get their brother back.
“He's moving fast,” Donatello said flipping through his Tphone. “Heading for Delancy.”
“We need to stop Razor before anyone else gets hurt,” Leo said patching up a gash on his own arm.
“Or he goes underground,” Don said. “I still don't have the Radio receiver fixed. We're working off GPS. If he goes underground I won't be able to track his TPhone.”
“You must hurry my sons.” Splinter ordered as they affixed a few more weapons on their belts.
“I’m coming too,” Tracker said standing up from the couch.
“You can’t, Razar is too dangerous,” Leonardo said leaping over the turnstiles.
She followed anyway letting the change slip her out of her skin. She felt better than she had in years. Between Mikey feeding her good food and sparing nearly all the time instead of spending hours cooped up reading old emails, she could change almost without thought. Splinter had even taught her to meditate. She trusted them. It was a strange feeling. It probably didn’t hurt that Mac and the twins would be showing up in two days. She loped behind the turtles keeping up with them easily. She felt ready to take on the world.
“Razor is ferocious, he can tear you apart,” Leo said running beside her.
“We will see.”
“Let ‘er come if she wans’ta” Raph said from the lead position. “Long as she dosen’t get in my way.”
Tracker had to smile. It was true what Mikey had told her the first night. This did happen to him a lot.
Her low light vision was enhanced when she was shifted this far but she could still hardly see anything in the sewers as they ran. She followed turning when they turned and stepping where they stepped.
They came up near some bar past Delancy. Wood panels painted bright red and black. Drunks meandered about, near the one-story brick structure surrounded by taller apartment buildings. Heh, ‘Hair of the Dog’ She liked this place already.
“He stopped moving,” Donatello said as they climbed from the rail to the awning of the next door grocery store.
They stood in the relative shadow of the roof. Across the street, colorful prayer flags fluttered in some shop’s window. Next to that one stood a marble facade with gargoyle's faces staring out of the dark.
“He should be right here!” Donatello lamented. Tracker sniffed the air, blood, and fear. Something didn’t smell right.
“I found something,” Raph growled. She didn’t have to look to know what it was. Mikey’s T-phone and a peeled slice of shell, embedded with a small GPS signal generator.
“Mikey.” Leo breathed taking the pieces of his brother out of Raph’s hands. She could tell Raph wanted to scream but was keeping it in. He was a ninja as well as a hothead.
“Leonardo.” She whisper-called. He materialized beside her bringing the scent of Mikey’s blood with him. Donatello was frantically typing into his phone. She didn’t know what for.
“Do those gargoyles look strange to you?” She asked, flicking her eyes toward the offending stone figures. Leo’s hands clenched.
“Keep an eye on the one on the left.” He whispered back before turning towards his brothers. “We lost his trail.” He spoke out loud. “We need to spread out. Don, East, Raph. north, I’ll go west, He wouldn’t have doubled back so Tracker will stay here and try to pick up his… scent- His scent. Got it?”
They split, disappearing into the darkness without a sound. Tracker could hardly believe they were ever there. They melted into shadows. She made a show of inspecting where Raph had found the TPhone, moving in circles. Glancing about herself in an effort to keep their “gargoyle” pinned.
In one casual sweep, she noticed three pairs of white eyes creeping behind the not-so-stone figure. With a lurch one slipped a chain noose around it’s neck and pulled it up the side of the building.
It scraped up the white brick between pairs of tall windows chipping the decorative scrollwork before disappearing over the ledge of the building. She stepped back a ways and took a running leap off the bar’s roof. Using the wrought iron fence around the top as a leg up, she sailed across the street and landed on the fire escape to the left of the actual gargoyle and scrambled up. Leo had the chain around the neck of a huge werewolf. Bigger than Mac when he transformed. It was grey with spikes of black bones protruding from its flesh. Growling and yelling, it snatched Leonardo from its back and threw him against the roof. Raph was already on it. He wrapped the chain about his arm and pulled the monster down.
“Where is my brother!” He yelled stepping further up the chain and sending the enormous wolf to it’s knees. Donatello spun about the thing keeping it from recovering enough focus to pry itself up. Leo sprang to his feet, winded but not much injured. He drew the twin katana on his back and advanced.
Tracker hesitated. The three worked in perfect unison, she would only get in the way. That was what she thought, till the humanoid wolf let out a howl that would have put her father to shame and ripped free of the chain.
She sprang after it pulling the chunky knife out of her back scabbard. It clanged against the claws of her opponent. They must each be six inches long. The more experienced fighters flowed around her making room for her more brutal, less formed fighting style. She stabbed clawed and bit trying to tear into the things concrete flesh. Leonardo parried one hand full of razor sharp claws before it gutted her across the stomach. She pushed off with her legs trying to gain as much speed as she could, knife gripped in both hands held out in front of her. To her left, Raphael got in a few good stabs in the bicep causing this thing to retract in pain. She plunged her blade into the beast's lower chest and pulled it as far down as it would go. It must have cut clean through the oblique because it was staggered, having a hard time keeping upright.
Donatello slapped something across its back and was swatted across the roof before pressing a button. Electric discharge shot across the wolf's forum. It screamed like a man possessed. Tracker had to wonder if it was even sapient. Was it possible they could win agents this thing?
“We won’t ask again Razar. Where is our brother?” Leo yelled clanging his swords against the beast’s shoulder. They only dug in a quarter of an inch but blood was flowing freely out of the wound.
Blood Tracker released. Don was back in the fight spinning his Bo over and around the monster keeping it from focusing on his more deadly brothers. Tracker caught Leo’s gaze as he flipped over her dodging a swipe that missed by inches. This was beyond her now. She retreated sticking her nose close to the rough texture of the roof. She had his scent, and he would still be bleeding from the wound in his shell.
A bit away from the fight stood a red rooftop patio, if it wasn’t the middle of the night it would likely be full of hipsters drinking coffee. She glanced back at the frantic battle going on on the other side of the roof. Don was injured, he was limping but still fighting. Trying to pin another of his gadgets to the monster’s skin.
“Three against one Razor! Give up and I’ll only ram your head halfway through the asphalt!” Raph yelled blocking a hit that would have taken Leo out of play and turning it into a push that nearly sent the monster off the edge.
“I don’t have to fight you alone.” The beast taunted. So it could speak. She wished it hadn't. Growling and climbing over the roof behind him was nothing short of a weretiger. The brother’s dodged blasts, Leo pulling Donatello out of the way at the last second. Weretiger with laser pistols. This is getting ridiculous.
She focused, trying to find where the red structure in front of her could hide a teenage terrapin. The sound of his laugh came back to her. Screw it. She kicked in the metal plating holding it to the roof. Sure enough, the smell of blood increased. Her knife plunged into the metal plating and made a sound like dying cats as it carved out an opening. Or was that one of the boys actually landing a blow on the tiger-man?
She crawled through the opening following the thick scent of blood. Her hand touched something cold. Fear shot through her. What did dead turtle feel like? Did they need warmth? Wrapping her hand around whatever part that was, she crawled backward.
“So you found ‘em.” The gray wolf-beast stood in front of her. Behind him the brother’s tackled the weretiger and were rebutted at every turn. She couldn't even take on Leonardo by herself and yet here she was drawing her knife against the fabric of her pants as if to prepare it. She set Mikey down behind her. His head lolled to the side, bright eyes closed.
“Mikey!” “Tracker!” One of the boys screamed from the other side of the roof. She couldn’t tell who it was. Instead, she let loose, howling and twisting as far as the curse would let her. Beyond what she had ever gone. This thing was not going to get through. Her muscles contracted and she launched herself at the monster.
Why had she left without her pistols? The knife chipped one of his back spikes and he clawed at her in retaliation. It cut into her arm. She didn’t care. This was the fight for her brother again, concentrated on another wolf. She could see her father’s face in him. The knife swatted out of her hand and she switched to brass knuckles. They did absolutely nothing. He pushed her aside and something caught her before she tumbled over the roof.
“She’s found Mikey. It’s time we were gone, Raph!”
“Good call.”
Mikey’s cold form was shoved into her arms and something else picked her up. Her vision was full of purple smoke and her stomach lurched into her mouth as she tumbled. Falling but not sure which way was down. In a moment they were below the ground and running. She was still holding Mikey, beside her Raph had Don in a bridal carry.
This is how she had always imagined finding her brother. Running for her life, unsure if he was alive or dead. She didn’t question why she already cared so much, she just did.
“Master Splinter?” Asked the turtle in her arms.
“No Mikey, it’s Mara- Tracker. We’ll get you to your father soon.” She replied.
If it wasn’t for these turtles this is how it most likely would have gone. She had underestimated New York City.
“Raph?” The turtle questioned, “Why're you so hairy?”
“Right here little bro.” Said the brother on her other side still carrying Donnie. “You hold on Mikey, the nice dog-chick is gonna get you home safe or we're gonna have real authentic Chinese for dinner.”
“No, Raph! Don’t eat my girlfriend.” He sounded so indigent.
“He’s fine,” Leo said moving from rearguard to lead of their little group. “You going to be ok Donnie?”
“I’m, ah. Adequate. Do you have to carry me like this?” He asked Raphael.
“You rather walk?”
They stopped sprinting and slowed to a less panicked pace once they turned on Hester near Lion’s Gate. Michelangelo was slowly pulling out of his concussion and asking important questions, like if they could stop for pizza.
In anyone else, she would guess that was the brain damage talking, but hearing Mikey ask it was cause for relief. She laughed nearly stumbling over some piece of ragged sewer pipe.
“Pizza is serious business.” Mikey pouted, sticking his bottom lip out.
“Oh, shut up dork.” She said planting an enormous smooch those lips. The dumb little turtle who had made her laugh so easily went a bit rigid and she slid to a stop. “Um, sorry.” She stammered.
He grabbed her face in both his hands and mushed their lips together. Man, he was a bad kisser. But, she guessed she knew what people meant when they said awful things happen to good people. He was one of those rare ‘good people’ and she, was one of those awful things.