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His Kind of Red | bayverse!raph

WORD COUNT: 9.5k | part five

"“You brought us here,” an older, leisurely voice speaks. June flinches from the sound, unaware of another presence in the underground lair she’s been taken to. Her gasp is caught in her throat when she makes out the figure in front of her. April is beside her in the same state, stolen of words."

The mountains in upstate New York are still covered in snow from the blizzards back in January. Luckily, the roads lack the white layer as Vern drives through the high terrain to the Sacks estate.

June feebly traces her finger along the back of the driver seat. She listens acutely to April as she tells Vern about the last couple of days—she avoids his eye as she mentions the absurd encounter of the vigilantes that turned out to be their father’s experimental test subjects. Vern doesn’t interrupt, nor comment during it.

June notes how less cars breeze by as they arrive closer to the Sacks estate. She looks out the windshield to the open road and the statuesque trees, littered with snow at the roots.

“That’s what I told Thompson and she fired me,” April concludes with a soft exhale. June can’t see Vern’s reaction to the ridiculous allegation of mutant turtle vigilantes. But she can hear the stutter in his next question.

“So.. they’re—uh, aliens?” He looks over at April, briefly.

“No, that’s stupid,” she dismisses the idea.

“They’re reptiles. Turtles,” June butts in to correct Vern. “Obviously.”

April leans her head back on the headrest. “They help people… I guess.”

June can see the slight shrug of Vern’s shoulders. “Heroes in the half-shell,” he suggests—his smile is genuine.

“Okay,” April chuckles under her breath to release some of the tension in her chest. Vern doesn’t look at April the same way Bernadette did earlier. He wants to believe her, and June is thankful for his support, nonetheless.

“Come on, it’s not that crazy. I… the animal kingdom is full of—you know, I used to have a dog that could moonwalk,” Vern says, attempting to lighten the mood. June flutters her eyes shut as she stops herself from kicking the back of his seat.

The tires of the van grumble under the new patchwork of snow leading up the lengthy driveway. Vern slows down when he approaches the tall gates that end their journey short.

April and June simultaneously unbuckle their seatbelts when the van parks. The entire windshield is covered by the sheer size of Sacks’ mansion.

“Thanks for the ride, Vern,” April gives him a short smile as she opens the passenger door. She slides out of her seat and adjusts her jacket from the octave degree drop. Sprinkles of snow land on her hair.

“Yeah, no problem,” Vern answers, though April doesn’t hear him as she makes a headstart to the intercom beside the gate. “Nothing better than dropping off a pretty girl at a rich guy’s house.” June chuckles, patting Vern’s shoulder before she climbs into the passenger seat.

“Hey, you make a mean grilled cheese. Hold onto that,” she teases him. Vern rolls his eyes as June hops out the car and slams the door closed. She joins her sister, skipping up to the gate. A wall of withering red bricks surrounds the estate.

April presses a button and speaks into the intercom after the buzz. “Hi, it’s April and June O’Neil, here to see Eric Sacks.” A silent beat passes before the large gates unlock and automatically widen toward them. April grabs June’s hand as she leads them to the front door.

June takes in the view, in awe of the gray stones that force her neck to tilt all the way up. An array of windows stretch along the mansion—every room dark from only a single person living inside. There is a clear path, lacking snow, for the sisters to follow and avoid slipping.

“I always hated upstate,” June mumbles with a shiver. “They can never catch up to the rest of us.” April laughs at her comment. She loops her arm with June, keeping the warmth between them.

The entry steps lead to two black double doors, and one of them is opened to reveal Eric Sacks. He loosened the pieces of his suit sans blazer—his casual look makes the conversation they plan to have with him more approachable.

Eric greets the sisters with wide arms and a smile not quite stretching the wrinkles in his face. “April arrived early this year,” he jokes, and when he notices the younger sister, he adds, “... and June.” It receives a polite chuckle.

“We're sorry to barge in on you like this, Mr. Sacks,” April immediately excuses their unannounced appearance to his home. But Eric waves her off.

“—no, no, no. Please, please,” he says as he steps back, inviting them inside. April briefly glances at June, who nods slightly, before walking past Eric into his house.

“Thank you,” she mumbles—June says the same. They enter the foyer and the immediate echoing of their footsteps enunciate the vast size of it. June spins in her spot to examine the beige walls, interrupted by the numerous windows, that travel to the high ceilings. She hears the call of her name, realizing the others are already halfway up the main stairs.

April promptly gets to the point of why they've come to see Eric. June quickly joins behind them. “I’ve been working on a story. And I have this theory that there are these vigilantes that are fighting back against the Foot.”

Eric stops in his tracks to turn to April—confusion overcasting his face. “I think you and our father may have created them,” she tells him.

“The vigilantes,” June clarifies, quietly. However, her voice booms in the large corridor.

Eric’s eyebrows draw in. “Uh, I’m not sure I…” He stammers.

“Can you please tell us everything that you know about Project Renassiance?” April pleads, her voice lowering. Eric parts his mouth to speak, eventually letting his lips mash together. It takes a moment for him to file back fifteen plus years ago.

“Hmm,” he thinks aloud as he switches his eyes between the two young women asking for his help. They were once little O’Neils that scurried around the laboratory with constant ‘what’s this?’ questions and babbled at the beaker glasses filled with vibrate colors of mysterious substances. “Well, um, it was a dream,” Eric starts. He sucks in a faint breath before his head drops.

When he takes the beat to collect himself and looks back up at April and June, his expression is awashed with sincerity. “A dream that died with your father.”

The room is engulfed in silence. Eric’s words reek in the air that it’s hard to breathe. Because it was true. All the years and hard work put into the expensively funded research was completely lost in a single night. And the person who loved his daughters more than anything died with it.

April clears her throat and lets her gaze fall to the ground between them. “What if it isn’t dead?” She says, warily. June braces for that look from Eric—the disbelief, the worry that he let two maniacs into his home. The offended cock of an eyebrow, challenging the assumption that they think he’s stupid for believing such a thing; almost like Bernadette looked at them today.

“That’s impossible,” Eric sighs, almost apologetic. He continues to be haunted by the loss of the laboratory, the loss of ground-breaking research, and loss of his men. His defeat, and the acceptance of it all, is evident. “We lost all our research in the fire, all our specimens, everything.”

As he speaks, April reaches into her jacket. “I’ve spent the last fifteen years trying to replicate the results,” Eric says, noticing April pulling out her phone.

“You didn’t lose everything in the fire,” April whispers. She turns her phone around for Eric to look at the screen. He ponders on her claim, narrowing his eyes at her. But when she motions to her phone, Eric takes it from her.

June holds her breath, watching Eric’s expression. It sits neutral for a fleeting moment, but as he stares down at the image of four large figures leaping through the night sky, his face drains. His head involuntarily shakes in denial.

April grabs June’s hand in anticipation. They both exchange a supportive squeeze.

“This…” Eric blinks numerous times to process what he sees, “this can’t be real,” he murmurs, slowly turning to April. His green eyes search her face in disbelief.

“It is real,” April insists. “We saw all four of them.” She motions to June, who gives him a short nod and a reassuring smile.

Eric looks back down at the pictures of the turtles, pressing his lips together into a thin line. His gaze lingers on them as he attempts to solve the impossible question of how. His eyelashes flutter but is unable to take his eyes off the photo.

“Do you really want to know about Project Renaissance?" Eric gulps.

Relief washes over April. She lets out a small puff. Her lips curl into a smile as she answers, “Yes,” for them.

“Come with me,” Eric says, gesturing them to follow. June lets the more clearly invested sister step forward first. She strolls close behind down the bleak corridor.

Eric leads them into a dim chamber, noticeably darker than the rest of the home. The room is illuminated by the soft glow of candles positioned around the outskirts. June shuts the door behind them to accentuate the ambience of the chamber.

Dominating one of the walls is an old painting depicting a part of ancient Japan. The candles force the focus on the clutter of armed warriors that stand fiercely frozen, in the midst of a nameless battle.

April stands back with Eric, listening to the origin of his childhood, which took place in Okinawa, Japan. June paces the wall to examine each detail that creates the art piece. Her lofty height shadows a dragon in the corner that dominates the story portrayed. June travels her finger down its figure to the curl of its scaly tail.

Eric continues to speak to April as he circles around her to meet up with June beside the painting. The younger sister tunes back into his story, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

“Your father and I were trying to recreate that cure-all. We developed a mutagen capable of stimulating self-repair on a cellular level,” Eric explains.

“A cure?” June murmurs into the soft hum of the chamber. Eric turns and nods at her question. June meets April’s eye to find the same level of shock on her face. They finally learned what Eric and their father were working on all those years ago: a self-repairing medicine using mutagen.

“What were you going to do with it?” April asks. Eric begins to walk the room again.

June is rooted to the ground, watching Eric with a careful gaze. “Imagine New York City, being the victim to a chemical attack. This mutagen would be able to reverse its effects. It would save the city. It would save the people,” Eric tells them.

A smile slowly spreads across April’s face. She feels a sense of pride bloom in her chest at her father’s efforts to help the world. Save it when it would be in need. He wasn’t trying to chase the fame or fortune of it—not with the way he stayed away from getting the credentials of newfound evidence.

Their father really was a hero.

And the Foot Clan stopped him.

“Those test subjects, those turtles… running in their blood is the last of this precious mutagen,” Eric lowers his voice to a mumble. His expression darkens as he thinks out loud. “And up until a few moments ago, I thought we failed. I thought they died in the fire. How… how could they have lived?” He pauses to question April, still caught up in the disbelief of it all.

April shies her head away from the significance of her decision fifteen years ago. But June breaks out into a wide grin. “Because April saved them that day,” she boasts, bumping shoulders with her sister.

Eric chuckles, amused. “Of course, you did,” he says with a nod. His eyes soften as he looks between the two sisters. “April… June, the mutagen possesses powers beyond our wildest hopes.” He reaches into his blazer pocket. “Whatever resources you two need, I’m here.”

He reveals his business card before extending it to April. It's simple and sleek—Sacks imprinted through it. “Let’s work together. We’ll find them. The course of human history may depend on it.”

June and April study the card, before lifting their eyes back on Eric. One of them offers a nod of appreciation.

Eric gestures to the door of the candlelit chamber. “I’ll show you two out,” he says, leading them out the dark room.

The day turns into dusk by the time Vern returns them home. April was quiet during the ride back, and June knows it’s because she’s been filing away all the information given by Eric—she was also put on leave the same day. However, April's silence can become eerie when June can’t exactly pinpoint what’s on her mind.

She knows she's worried about finding the turtles again, especially with Eric’s eagerness to locate them too. Maybe, though, for different reasons.

But June is just glad that April has gained her spark again after being beat down by Bernadette earlier. So, she joins April on the couch as her elder sister searches on Google for ‘Vigilante News in New York’.

The laptop sits on the ottoman while April scrolls through the headlines that aren’t exactly what she’s looking for. She hums out an unsuccessful sigh when she reaches the bottom of the Google search page.

Now it makes sense why they’re being called vigilantes. The lack of information on them is plausible.

Not much conversation is exchanged between the sisters, only the shared exhales of frustration. June doesn’t know what could be said to help the situation, but she still stays by April's side as moral support.

“We might have to simply wait around for another Foot attack and hope they show up,” June states with a shrug.

April nods, even though she hates to think it’s true. She changes her search and scrolls down a new set of headlines on Google. “Well, I’m not very keen on you being a hostage again,” she says.

“Me neither,” June snorts.

The room goes quiet as they stare at the laptop screen. They quickly skim each headline before moving on to the next. But one story catches both of their attention in unison. The headline mentions the subway incident from yesterday.

Both of them sit up in their seats. “Already?” April mutters, immediately clicking on the link. “Who reported this? Not even Channel Six had much to say on it.”

“Because no one can explain who saved us,” June responds as they wait for the screen to load. But before it completes, April’s laptop suddenly glitches out.

The Google screen vanishes and is overtaken by a wall of cryptic code. The indecipherable symbols rapidly type down each line. April shoots her hands away from the keyboard in shock.

“Uh, what’s happening?” June asks aloud.

“I don’t…”

The sound of piercing static, and a triumphant voice exclaiming a loud “Bam!” startles them. “You’ve been hacked! By Donatello. Remember me? Turtle—four eyes?” April looks over at June, finding the same stunned expression mirrored on her face.

June scrambles through her memory of yesterday to the image of the purple-masked turtle who erased their picture from April’s phone. His lanky frame was a disguising feature.

“But enough about me. We told you we'd find you,” the purple-masked turtle says. April’s laptop detects a virus and alerts the user, but there’s nothing the sisters can do besides listen to the turtle’s demand.

They watch as the screen maps around the streets of Manhattan before it zooms in to showcase one in particular. “Meet us here,” the turtle tells them as an address blinks in their faces. 4th Ave. & 12th St. Rooftop. “And come alone—just the two of you. Or… or else we’re… you shall be punished! And… stuff.”

The turtle doesn’t bid them farewell as he releases control back to April and the screen returns to the Google search bar. The sisters are left to stare at one another.

June speaks into the unbearably loud silence. “So…”

“I have no idea,” April almost laughs.

June shoves her wrist into her closed eye, letting out an incredulous groan. “Well then, are we…?”

“I guess?”

“You guess?” June looks at April with a lifted brow.

“I mean, I can go. You can stay—”

“No, no. I’m going. I just… didn’t think it’d be that easy?” June says, more like a question. “I thought we’d never see them again.”

“Yeah, me too,” April agrees. She shuts her computer screen and stands up. “Come on.”

They move at a slightly faster rate than a walk—anticipation nibbles at their feet. The nearest subway station is bustling with the overtime workers, finally escaping their desks to train home. June stays in step with April as they maneuver through the tired crowd. The subway ride is short as they hide from the nightly streets of Manhattan.

So many questions build in June’s head, though not as much as April’s. Her lips thin into a quiet mutter. The walk to the meeting spot wasn’t ample time for either sister to grasp the situation. But they still turn on twelfth street prepared to have some of those questions answered as they are being requested.

April tilts her chin up at the height of the building. She pulls down the escape ladder, waking up the sleeping cat that vacated the steps leading to the front door. April looks over at June and quirks up a smile.

“What is up with them and rooftops?” she quips. June lets out a short laugh as her shoulders shrug.

“At least we were invited this time,” she says while April begins her ascent to the rooftop of an unknown residential building. June latches to each bar with her palms moisturizing to the touch. Her nerves haven’t subsided to the unexpected.

The rooftop is strangely quiet with its view of the Empire State Building in the distance. Pockets of darkness turn June’s head in each direction, waiting for something to emerge from them. But when nothing does and the only sound in the jittering steps of April as she spins around in her spot, June speaks out.

“Hello?” she shouts. The honking of a car a few blocks away responds to her. June looks at April, whose chest rises heavier than before. She reaches for her sister’s hand to ease her. “You told us to come here? We didn’t bring anyone—” June continues with her free hand thrown up, “we did exactly…”

An alarmingly quiet thump lands behind them. The palpable weight of another causes April to let out a yelp. She spins in her spot to face a distinctively large turtle, repping an orange mask and a friendly smile.

June’s eyes go wide. Her lips part to release a gasp. A chill runs down her spine at the validating sight that yesterday did, in fact, happen. Her father’s experiments created six foot something mutated turtles.

“Okay, are you April and June O’Neil?” the orange masked-turtle asks—it almost sounds genuine. His hands hover over April’s shoulders to motion her still as he examines her features.

June blinks her eyes awake when the shock settles in. She discreetly grabs April’s arm and drags them a step back. They share a gulp.

June’s ear perks up at the movement of another behind her. She shoots her head to the other shadow pocket she noted earlier as a slender turtle stalks out from the corner. His purple mask is covered by his tech goggles.

“Initiating retinal scan,” he announces, circling the pair with a bright flashlight shining in their faces. April uses her hand to cover the blazing light, remembering the repeat of their last encounter. “Scanning, scanning, scanning…”

“Dude, turn off that flash. We can’t see!” June chides him. Though, she is blatantly ignored as the laser light points at each of them. They both turn their heads away and groan.

“Scan complete. It’s them! It’s them. Guys, it’s them,” the purple-masked turtle announces—his voice pumping with a rush of adrenaline. He curtly turns the flashlight off, finally giving them the chance to see again.

She hears him before she sees him but a third turtle briskly approaches April’s side. He latches a casual arm around her shoulder with a smile more condescending than friendly. April is immediately engulfed in his frame from his large arm.

“Of course, it’s them, Donnie,” the blue-masked turtle laughs. He looks down at April, emitting a sinister glare through the blue shades of his eyes. “Hey,” he drags out, light-heartedly, “really glad you and your sister could make it.”

June watches the blue-masked turtle warily—she switches her attention from his stare to his tight arm around his sister. April grunts, twisting the turtle's arm and whirling easily out of his hold. She turns back to him with a stern look as a warning.

June doesn’t notice the hard plastron that bumps idly into her back. Her body almost relaxes from its familiarly brute build. But his hovering shadow that forces her face into the dark makes her head tilt up questionably. The floor almost melts at her feet when she meets eyes with the sudden figure appearing behind her.

“Hey, there’s someone important we want to introduce you two to,” the blue-masked turtle tells April while June is occupied with another turtle wearing an unsettling grin on his face. His red mask surrounds the glow of his eyes from the moon casting on them. The same toothpick sticks out the corner of his mouth. “But first…”

“What—” June begins to question but she’s cut off when a red bag is thrown over her head.

The bag isn’t thick as June can still see through it. She freezes in her spot, vetoing the idea of running and accidentally getting too close to the ledge. Her limited vision only allows her to see the outline of a certain red-masked turtle as he moves in front of her. His arms cross over themselves—a low chuckle purring from him.

“Alright Mikey, grab April. Raph you take June. Let’s move,” the blue-masked turtle directs orders to his partners.

June can see the red-masked turtle whip around to face the blue. His rounded shell covers his frame. “Uh, no. Let Mikey take this one,” he argues back, sounding as a grunt.

“What! I already got dibs on hotcakes,” a third orange-masked turtle cries out. “We agreed you’d take the little dudette in case she gets feisty.”

“I ain’t agreed to nothin’. I’m not—”

The blue masked turtle cuts him off, “We don’t have time for this. Mikey takes April, Raph takes June. Now let’s go!”

June listens to the banter awkwardly, unsure if she should step in and volunteer to take herself to wherever they plan on kidnapping them too. But she rolls her lips inward when she hears a grumble of muttering curses and the shuffling of heavy footsteps around the rooftop. For someone being kidnapped, June feels more like a burden than anything.

“Sorry?” she says aloud, looking at the large figure through the thin bag over her head. The red-masked turtle turns back around to face her when she speaks. She doesn’t see how his eyebrow muscle lifts up. “And I’m not the feisty one, you are.” June’s hands find her hips to sit on.

The red-masked turtle snorts, walking closer to tower over June. She stops herself from taking a step back. “Think you got it mixed up, Red,” the turtle teases as he loops a large arm around June’s waist. He swoops her up by the back of her knees and holds her to his plastron.

June squeals from the quick gesture, and the familiar feeling of being in his arms again. She instinctively grabs onto the red-masked turtle’s neck.

“What? You scared of heights or something?” He scoffs, but holds her closer—more securely. June turns her head to his voice. She can make out the outline of his face and the toothpick that plays in his mouth.

“Moreso of being kidnapped,” June snips back, squirming in his hold.

“Well, get over it,” he grunts. The turtle begins to walk to the edge of the rooftop as his partners have already taken off. But oddly enough, he doesn’t mind falling behind this time.

"I'll try. It should be easy not to freak out when a bag is over my head and I'm being taken to some secret place with no witnesses to notice my disappearance," June says with a casual shrug.

The red-masked turtle rolls his eyes. “Like Fearless said, we got someone we need you to meet."

"Is there a fifth turtle we don't know about?"

"Curiosity kills the cat, doesn't it, Red?" The turtle smirks. June is suddenly grateful for the bag covering the flush of her cheeks. Her body turns warm as she can feel the turtle's eyes on her, and she hopes he doesn’t notice.

“Don’t call me Red. You’re the one with the red mask anyway,” she attempts to change the subject.

“Says the one with the red bag over her head,” a chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“Speaking of that, is it really necessary? I understand you guys don’t trust us but it seems a bit much,” June says as she tightens her grip around his neck when a gust of wind hits her. She braces for the liftoff.

“Don’t know, don’t care. Take that up with Fearless.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, the red-masked turtle leaps off the ledge to the adjacent rooftop with a low grunt. He runs across the building and jumps to the next at a top speed June isn’t prepared for. She can feel the ground shiver under his weight. Neither of them acknowledge her quiet squeal and how she dips her bag covered head into the hollow of his neck.

When June lets out a muffled shout from the turtle leaping farther and extending the air time in the night sky, he slows down a moment. His arm is around her waist and his hand squeezes the stiff spot.

“Calm down, Red. I ain’t gonna drop you,” he whispers with a heavy breath.

“With how you were so adamant on not carrying me, I don’t know that for sure,” June mutters, realizing she’s still mildly offended by his previous banter with his partner. “You were quick to carry me last time. At the docks.”

It takes a long beat for the turtle to respond as he lands on top of another rooftop. June internally cringes for bringing it up. She groans into his neck, unbeknownst to the shiver her breath causes him. “Nevermind. Pretend I didn’t say anything. It probably wasn't even you.”

She can feel his chest sigh as he contemplates what to say to her.

“There’s not a problem with carrying you. Alright?” He says, gruffly. The air around them shifts—the turtle landing on the ground. June only hums, turning her head the other way so it faces out. “I said, alright?” the red-masked turtle squeezes at her again.

“Alright!" June starts to laugh. "Jeez. I’m pretty sure you’re the feisty one,” she jabs with a giggle.

The turtle joins her, his laughter louder than his silent snorts. “Yeah, whatever. Now, no more speaking from you. You’re getting kidnapped, remember?” he orders. June’s lips curl into a smile, and she bites down on the bottom to stop it from growing wider.

“My bad. Can’t forget that.” June goes quiet for the rest of the journey as she revels in the familiarity of the turtle’s hold.

Her ears are more aware of the sounds surrounding them. She doesn’t believe they’re outside anymore as each of the red-masked turtle’s footsteps echo with every pound. Then there’s the sloshing of water, like an interrupted stream. June wants to ask where they are, but decides to trust him. He’s her vigilante, after all.

The red-masked turtle suddenly falls back on his shell, however still upholds his speed against the water. They slide down a sort of tunnel, raising up the wall during sharp turns, and June genuinely can’t decipher where they are. It really is a secret base.

“Almost there,” the red-masked turtle updates June. She only nods into his neck.

When the red-masked turtle finally slows to a stop and jumps back up to his feet, June lets out the breath she held onto for most of the ride. The air is different in the room he leads her in—June doesn’t mention how he could’ve let her walk inside herself.

There is the faint sound of other voices, notably the other turtles. One of them calls the red-masked turtle over. They enter with June still being held bridal style in his arms. He doesn’t think much of it, until his orange-masked partner grows a smile and begins to comment on it. The bubble is popped and the brute comes back.

“We’re here,” he says, his tone neutral but tethering toward annoyed, as he actively places June back on her feet. She’s surprised at the feeling of the ground, so she stumbles. Her hand reaches for the thick arm still beside her, patterned with damp scales. “Uh, you good?”

June snatches her hand away, embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry,” she mumbles before clearing her throat.

“Whatever,” he huffs, not moving from his spot. June tilts her head up to where she assumes his face is at. From her angle, his craned neck suggests he’s looking back at her.

“Are you mad?” she asks him as the other voices walk over to them. The brute turtle only grunts in response. June gives him a chance to actually answer but when he doesn’t and turns to his partners making their way over, she lets it go. “Yeah, whatever,” she mutters.

Her eyes naturally roll and land in the direction of the others. Through her bag, June can spot a short, human figure being led by a sizely turtle holding her shoulder. April walks toward June, calling out her name with outreached hands.

“Hey, it’s me,” June assures her.

“Are you okay?” April asks as she laces one of her hands with June and holds it down by their joined side. June nods, assuming April can see her through her own bag. Her body physically sighs with relief.

The heavy footsteps of numerous figures approaching them reminds the sisters of their situation. They both sidestep protectively into one another and anticipate why they’ve been summoned to a secret base.

“Aw, yeah. Welcome to my crib, ladies,” the sly voice of the orange-masked turtle grabs their attention as his outline looms in front of them. A gentle push behind the sisters guide them further into their base.

“Where are we?” April asks aloud as they search the room through their thin bags.

“Hey, it’s our Fortress of Solitude,” the purple-masked turtle exclaims as he joins the orange. His DIY glasses are over his eyes, switched with his tech goggles on his forehead.

“Our Hogwarts,” the orange-masked turtle adds.

“Our Xavier Academy.”

“Our next generation, state-of-the-art, WonderDome!”

June takes in a long sniff before groaning in disgust. “Ugh, are we… in the sewer?” she asks.

The orange-masked turtle shrinks. “No…?”

But the purple-masked turtle nods. “Technically, yes.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s a sewer.”

The bags are peeled off the sisters’ heads—they squint at the sudden amount of light hitting their faces. June glances to the side, where her bag was snatched away to. The red-masked turtle stands over her shoulder as he folds the discarded bag on his arm.

He doesn’t expect June’s stare, nor how long she holds contact. He quips up his eyebrow muscle to question her, to which she copies his gesture, playfully. His eyes roll before they land ahead.

“You brought us here,” an older, leisurely voice speaks. June flinches from the sound, unaware of another presence in the underground lair she’s been taken to. Her gasp is caught in her throat when she makes out the figure in front of her. April is beside her in the same state, stolen of words.

A human sized rat captivating everyone’s attention with calm certainty and wrinkled patience holds the room. He’s wearing an oversized, yellow dojo gi robe. His hands hold together casually behind his back as he switches his beady eyes between April and June. He hums softly.

“No way,” June breathes out, unable to clasp her jaw close.

April takes a cautious step forward. “Splinter?” she questions with narrow eyes. The rat’s ear flickers from the name. He nods once, slowly, to confirm her suspicion. April lets out an incredulous laugh as she continues to glide closer to him.

“What?” June gasps at her sister. “You mean, the Splinter?” She stays in her spot with the four turtles watching her dumbfounded reaction. The red-masked one in particular nudges her. It wakes June’s legs up to join April as she approaches the mutated rat.

He stands on an elevated platform with numerous cushions surrounding him on the floor. She walks around the colored cushions to stand with April.

“She knows his name,” the purple-masked turtle observes aloud.

“Huh, did you tell her his name?” The blue-masked turtle teases his partner with a snort.

“Maybe she’s a clairvoyant.”

“Maybe she’s a Jedi,” the orange-masked turtle comments as he brings a can of Crush soda to his lips.

Splinter tilts his head, slightly. He picks up on April’s disbelief as she roams her eyes up the length of him. Her head shakes to dismiss the absurd idea, even though it stands before her.

“Come closer,” he urges her in a warm tone—curiosity itching at him too.

April and June walk up to Splinter. With him standing on the elevated platform, they are eye level to him—June has a few inches on him that drops her chin down. The stealthy footsteps of the turtles remind the sisters of their presence still behind them.

“Mmm,” Splinter sighs with a smile as he examines the features on April and June’s face. “It’s been a long time,” he admits. The elder sister stares at the mutated rat in a delicate, infatuated way. Fear doesn’t dominate her widened eyes. She still remembers the gentle rat that affectionately nibbled on her finger when she dipped her hand into his tank.

Splinter slides his attention to June—she stiffens under his gaze. He hums under his breath. “And you, young Juno…” the younger sister begins to shrink when Splinter leans in. “You always did have your father’s eyes,” he comments. June’s lips part, almost falling agape.

“I… what?” she blurts.

April shakes her head. “Splinter, I don’t understand,” she breathes heavily. “You… how?”

Splinter still has a kind smile on his face as one of his arms releases from behind his back. His fingers are long and slender with sharp nails curling at the ends. He holds out his hand to the sisters.

“Don’t be afraid,” he tells them. “All will be made clear.”

“This is crazy,” April whispers as she locks eyes with Splinter. June can only nod in agreement.

The mutated rat motions to the pillows on the ground under him. “Come sit. All of you,” he says as he lowers down himself.

June suddenly remembers the turtles in the room with them—staring at a human sized rat can have that effect. She looks over her shoulder to the four looming figures that have been watching the whole interaction, guardedly. They nod to the rat’s command and take the cushions off to the side.

April sits down on the pillow directly in front of Splinter, and June slides the adjacent cushion closer to sit beside her sister.

Splinter brushes the two long strands of his beard cascading from his snout while he waits for everyone to settle down in their seats. He purrs out a long sigh with his eyes momentarily closing to collect his thoughts.

June takes the brief chance to glance at a particular red-masked turtle now in view from his spot closest to Splinter. He was already watching June back, causing her shoulders to subtly jump.

His expression is hard, as per usual. He sits on one knee with his other propped up so his arm can rest on it, casually. June notices his toothpick twitching in his mouth and as it flips to the other side while he holds her gaze.

The turtle raises his eyebrow muscle, seeming to become a new habit to June. She doesn’t respond to it as she turns back her focus to Splinter.

When the room finally goes silent, he speaks. “Listen closely, April and June,” he starts, “I don’t remember a time before living in that laboratory. That fateful night started like any other.”

June’s eyes widen—she reaches out to grab April’s thigh for support. “Wait, as in… the night of the fire?” Her voice cracks on the word. Splinter only hums to answer her inquiry.

“You remember that?” April gasps, almost impressed. “It was so long ago.”

“Yes, it was. But it's the reason we are where we are today,” he says without a rush. He continues with the story. “Sacks gave us our injections. Your father made sure our vital signs were strong. And you, April, as always, provided us with a special treat.”

A short smile tugs at her lips.

“After the brothers went to sleep, I heard loud voices,” Splinter says. June takes note of him referring to the turtles as brothers. Her notion was that they were merely partners—the blue-masked turtle did refer to the red as one when they first met. But she does recall how their previous banter with one another did sound brotherly.

Splinter’s voice cuts through the haze of June’s thoughts. She brings her attention back to him. “There was the smell of smoke. Alarms sounded. Your father had discovered the truth behind the man he was working for,” he retells with a gentle tone, completely contradicting the weight of his words. His eyes close for an acute second.

April goes rigid, her pulse stuttering. Beside her, June’s breath catches painfully in her chest—her eyes turn to her sister in a panic. A thick silence crashes over the room from the gravity of Splinter’s revelation.

June waits for reality to shatter the moment—to laugh at them for taking this so seriously and remind them it was all the Foot Clan’s doing. But it never comes. And June stares at the mutated rat, incapable of grasping the meaning of his claim.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, June shakes her head at him. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t… get it. What are you saying? Are you… I don’t understand, Splinter. What do you mean?” She stammers for clarification.

Splinter fights the underlying urge to look away, reluctant to repeat the truth. But when he meets June’s wild gaze, staring horrified, he has to come clean. He speaks, unwavering.

“Your father… he set fire to the lab,” Splinter doesn’t correct himself. He doesn’t soften his statement.

The scatter of hushed gasps come from the turtles sitting beside the rat, filling the silence of the two sisters—frozen in place. The turtles haven’t been told the entire story of their being, nor the reason they were experimental test subjects. Until now.

April places a hand over her chest, squeezing at the aching beats. “Dad? He’s the one that set fire to the lab. He did that himself? Not the—” She stops herself from saying the group that has been terrorizing her family long enough. But now, she doesn’t know what’s true. Nothing feels right anymore. And just from a few simple words.

“Why? Why did he…?” June chokes back a cry. Her hand finds her sisters to squeeze.

“His last breath was taken trying to destroy Shredder’s plan,” Splinter explains with a bow of his head.

“Shredder?” June repeats the name, unable to identify who it was. She glances at April. “Is he a part of the Foot Clan?”

“He is,” a gruff voice says. June looks over at the turtles, specifically the one in the red mask. She’s greeted by his intense gaze—he had been watching her as she was told of her world being flipped upside down. “He’s their leader.”

June sniffles before she asks another question. “So, he had malicious plans for the cure our father was trying to make? He destroyed all the evidence before it got in the wrong hands.”

April’s mouth opens, then abruptly closes. “And it almost worked. If you guys… if I didn’t—” She looks at Splinter for an answer. He takes it as his cue to continue.

“I was terrified… but then, you appeared, April. And ushered us to safety,” he explains. “I never had a voice then, but I thank you now, April.”

June recalls from April’s telling of that night how she was instructed by their father to escape before the fire trapped her too. She was so young, only ten, when she fearfully ran for the laboratory doors but suddenly paused in her tracks. She made the decision to turn back for the little animals she grew to love.

April hastily dug for Splinter hiding in a can and stuffed him in her jacket pocket. Then she rushed to the four lined up tanks of turtles, grabbing each one, before making a break for the exit.

She thinks about that night every so often. No one ever praised her on her heroic decision, so she never saw it as much. But to think her bravery, turning back to save the small rat and those helpless turtles, created the sight in front of her solidifies her belief that she made the right decision. It causes a chill to run up her spine.

Splinter motions around them, to the underground lair they currently reside in. He smiles, pleased with their home. “We wandered the sewers until I found this place. It was then that the mutagen that was injected into our blood began to change us in miraculous ways.” He raises his large hands in front of the sisters.

June glides her eyes down Splinter’s figure to the even bigger turtles that sit nearby. She realizes it was the mutagen from their father’s laboratory that grew Splinter and the turtles into the size they are now. It made sense.

“I saw how your father loved you two and I knew I had to show that same love to the turtles,” Splinter says, admiring the man their father was. June smiles at the way Splinter looks over at the turtles. “I became their father and they became my sons.”

The story continues to a montage of the turtles’ childhood. Splinter tells April and June how they survived in the sewers for so long, becoming a family that leant on one another. But Splinter wanted to find a way for the turtles to protect themselves from those who may eventually discover them.

He stumbled upon a book about the ancient art of ninjutsu. He first taught himself, and the turtles eventually grew an interest after watching their father. So, they followed his lead and learned their own style of ninjutsu.

And around only a couple of months ago, they were finally deemed ready as they excelled at their skill of martial arts. They earned the use of customs weapons, and a mask to claim their identity.

“Everything they are, and everything that they’ve become was made possible by the bravery that you displayed on that fateful night,” Splinter says to April. She looks down shyly at her hands, overwhelmed by the significance of her decision. June bumps shoulders with her, pridefully.

“I was just a little girl,” April whispers.

“And you gave us freedom, where others would have kept us in cages.”

At some point of the story, the four turtles had stood up to loom over the space. The blue-masked turtle, Leonardo, speaks up to interrupt the conversation. He bends down to his father’s level as he asks his question. Splinter turns to his son.

“Wait a minute, Dad. All these years you told us we were rescued from the fire by a great guardian spirit, the Hogo-sha,” he says, curiously.

“That’s right,” Splinter nods, before motioning to April. “This is the Hogo-sha.”

April darts her eyes to June, widened. “What?” She exhales.

Leonardo’s shoulders stiffen as the attention shifts completely to April. He hesitantly rises back up to his full height and takes his place alongside his brothers again. He draws in a steady breath, still attempting to comprehend how the spirit he’s believed in for a long fifteen years is the same person who passed out on the rooftop only yesterday.

Beside Leonardo, the purple-masked turtle, Donatello, lowers his tech goggles down and analyzes April through the holographic lenses. It only lasts for a short moment before he slides them back up to his forehead. But his expression has turned stunned.

June’s confusion grows, wondering why they stare at April so strangely.

Then Leonardo inhales deeply as he begins to dip into a respectful bow. June is shocked by the gesture—heat immediately floods to April’s cheeks. She lets her hair fall across her face to hide it.

The orange-masked turtle, who claims the name of Michelango, follows his brother’s lead and bows next to him. His smirk is wide as he leans close to Leonardo’s ear. “My girlfriend’s totally the Hogo-sha,” he whispers, loudly, only to receive a sharp punch to the side as a warning. “Ow.”

Donatello quickly joins his brother, taking a step forward to line with them and bows himself. Splinter hums at the instinctive honor his sons have.

But June’s attention drifts to the last turtle standing at the end of the line. The red-masked brute has a disinterested frown etched on his face as he narrows his eyes at April. Unlike his brothers, he doesn’t make an effort to bow, showcasing his skepticism.

The red-masked brute folds his arms sharply across his chest and shifts his weight to his other leg. June takes note of the behavior. She doesn’t say anything about it, but she’s curious as to why he doesn’t follow the gesture of the other turtles. She responds to it with a short roll of her eyes

As if sensing her scrutiny, the red-maked turtle glances her way. He just missed June’s gaze but keeps his attention on her.

April turns back to Splinter to ask, “Why did you bring us here?”

“To find out who you told of our existence,” he answers, eager to hear her response. June internally cringes.

“Nobody that believed us,” April shrugs, looking at June, “except for Eric Sacks.”

Splinter surprises the room with his own gasp. His eyes briefly shut as he stands—the years make his body groan. “Sacks,” he exhales his name, almost distasteful. “Just as I feared.” His hands hold behind his back as he paces the room.

“Feared?” June questions his choice of words.

“Sacks is not a friend, young Juno,” Splinter tells her over his shoulder. The sisters share a look—the features on their faces go wide. “His soul has been poisoned by the influence of a dark master.”

April’s face suddenly drains of color. She is overcome with the daunting thought that she may have just made a grave mistake. Her bottom lip subtly begins to uncontrollably quiver—it goes unnoticed by the others as they listen to Splinter reveal the name of Eric’s leader.

The Shredder.

The reason their father set fire to the laboratory and lost his life. He knew that Eric Sacks had malicious plans with the Shredder and the Foot Clan. He sacrificed himself to destroy any evidence that would complete their mission.

His name makes the room go eerily quiet. June feels a cold shiver run down her arms, and she hastily rubs the goosebumps away.

“Wait, wait…” the red-masked turtle, Raphael, speaks up. Splinter looks over at his son as he approaches him. “Sacks and Shredder? So, why aren’t we out there hunting them down?” he growls, pacing in front of the mutated rat. He throws a hand up in exasperation.

“Because Raphael, the Shredder is a skilled warrior whose cruelty is ever-reaching! And you are just… teenagers,” he responds, simply. The other three turtles surround him. Splinter stands short, unbothered by his towering sons forcing their shadows over him.

Raphael scoffs at the rat’s answer, growling under his breath.

Leonardo nudges Raphael back with a step forward. He listens attentively as Splinter continues his explanation. “The mutagen in your blood is of great value to them. Now that Sacks has confirmation that you are alive… I fear they will bring the fight to us,” Splinter says, attempting to suppress his worry.

June watches their interaction, apologetic. She is part of the reason they may be in danger again—if only they had kept quiet like the turtles asked them. June skims her teeth along her bottom lip in thought.

In the corner of her eyes, she notices April aggressively digging a hand into her jacket. June turns to her sister, parting her mouth to question what she’s looking for.

But the sleek, black card reading Sacks' name that April pulls out and holds in front of them steals every word that was about to leave. The two draw mute as they stare at it.

The realization comes straight after.

June covers her gasp with her hand. April darts her eyes to her sister, the card slipping between her fingers. “It’s a tracker, isn’t it?”

April can only blurt an, “Oh, no.”

The tranquil sounds of the lair are interrupted by the sudden rapid beeping of a warping alarm. June slaps her hands over her ears at the searing pitch. A second blaring alarm stiffens the shoulders of everyone in the room.

Donatello is the first to make a break to his monitor station. “Perimeter infringed, breached! We have incoming!” He yells out as the rest of the turtles follow him. June and April stay bolted to the ground—they are unaware of what to do, where to go, who they can help, or how to explain themselves.

This is their fault.

Splinter remains fairly calm as he joins his sons at the wall of computers that display the outskirts of their lair. For the first time ever, they witness the sewer lines filled with Foot Clan soldiers that stealthily creep their way closer.

“Oh, no! We got two breaches. Fan room, weapons wall,” Donatello announces in a panic, pointing to the screen of Foot soldiers.

Leonardo begins to shout out commands. “Mikey, flank right! Donnie, on me! We gotta go. Go, go!”

June watches from the cushion she’s stuck to as the turtles disperse in different directions. Her heart pounds loudly against her chest, mimicking the speed of the alarm. She feels her hands physically begin to shake, before they’re being held by April. Her sister steps into her line of vision.

“June! Hey, come on. We gotta hide,” April barks as she assists her up to her feet. June can only nod, blinking her eyes to say alert.

A large red-masked turtle cuts by them. June only shares a brief look with him. He is breathing just as hard as she is. But his face is sliced with lividity. His nose puffs out smoke as he hurriedly stomps away.

“Yeah, okay,” she mutters—Raphael is gone.

Splinter arrives at the weapons wall room first. His ears flicker in every direction, listening for footsteps that aren’t his own.

“Stand by to set charge.”

“Lock and load. We're going on ten.”

“No live ammo. Tranqs only.”

“Take 'em alive!”

It’s a hushed, secretive attack on the other side, and Splinter catches them. He only has a split second to warn the two turtles that rush into the room, in hopes to grab their weapons.

Splinter throws his hand out, flailing, “No! Get back!” just as the wall explodes behind him. Leonardo and Donatello are immediately thrown back from the impact. They land harshly on their shells with a groan. Another explosion, just as loud, detonates nearby Michelangelo. He locks his arms in front of him as he slams into the ground.

The smoke instantly engulfs the lair into a dark hue.

April and June attempted to run past the weapons wall room as soon as the explosion went off. June slips from April’s hold, hurled into different directions. The rubble with the thick smoke makes the lair suddenly unrecognizable.

Her shout is loud as June slides across the floor and slams into a hard surface against her back. She gasps, letting out a soft cry. But it’s inaudible from the ringing in her ears. It throbs to her head.

She lifts her chin up from her curled spot on the ground as Foot soldiers barge into the lair. The flashlights on their guns point around to search for the turtles, and luckily miss June from the rubble surrounding her.

The monitors still mounted onto the wall gives the hint that June landed by the Donatello’s computer station. She’s overwhelmed with the urge to find April and escape, but as they were blindfolded during the journey into the lair—and some of it now destroyed, that task is now deemed difficult.

Her eyes rim with tears as the fear settles in. She holds her forehead with her hand to ease the pounding headache, only to feel a thick substance sticking to her palm. June pulls her hand back to find a red trail strolling down her wrist. She gasps at the sight of blood coming from her.

“April?” June desperately whimpers out, scared to move. She coughs out puffs of dust stuck in her chest.

“Found you, Red.”

June’s ears barely pick up the sound of her muffled name. She fights her eyes open as a three-toed foot stands in front of her. Her head tilts up and is met with a red mask surrounding soft green eyes. Raphael grits his teeth as he examines June’s state.

“Ra… Raphael?” she groans. The large turtle bends down to the ground, hiding her away from the scene.

“Yeah, you okay?” he reaches for her arm that is trickling blood. He glides his eyes up to the corner of her eyebrow, finding the root of the substance.

"I think so?" June's response isn't very convincing. Raphael holds June by the chin, examining the red slit. He brushes the skin beside it, gently, to check the severity of her cut.

June stifles back a hum from his soft touch. “You’re bleeding," he comments as he turns her head, leaning closer for a better look.

“And here I thought Donatello was the smart one,” June heaves out a joke with a dry laugh. Raphael only rolls his eyes.

“Har har,” he snorts. “Glad to see you still have your awful sense of humor.”

June grows a genuine smile—her fear temporarily subsiding from Raphael’s arrival. He almost makes her forget what even happened.

“Where’s April?” He asks her.

June’s stomach drops at the reminder of her sister. She shoots her hand out for Raphael’s arm. Neither of them acknowledge the subtle squeeze to his forearm.

“The explosion… we got separated. There were Foot soldiers. I don’t—Splinter and Leonardo and…” June stumbles through her memory. She curses under her breath.

“It’s fine. Just find her and then you guys get the hell out of here,” Raphael waves her off as he begins to stand. His eyes are already searching the perimeter.

“No, wait!” June pulls at Raphael’s arm to stop him. His eyebrow muscles shoot up.

“What?”

“Don’t… you can't get hurt. I wouldn't be able to—we didn't mean for... it's all my fault. I'm so sorry, Raphael,” June admits through a soft cry. Raphael stares back at her in stunned silence, nearly stumbling from his crouched position. He stutters for a response.

“Get them!”

“There they are!”

“Neutralize them!”

The Foot Clan’s shouts become clear as they draw in closer. June and Raphael whip their heads back in their direction.

“They’re coming for you, Raphael. They have tranquil darts!” June whisper-yells. She pushes at Raphael’s broad shoulder, and he flinches back from her surprising strength. “You have to run! Or hide.”

“Run?” Raphael scoffs. “Like hell I’m running. I’m kicking their asses. After you get out of here. So, stop the whining and come on.”

“No, I’ll only—”

Raphael growls at her, annoyed. “Shut the hell up and listen to me, Red!" June snaps her lips closed. She apologizes under her breath. "Yeah, yeah, it's your fault they're here. Whatever. We cleared that up. But now you need to get somewhere safe. So, if you feel bad and want to help, then get up and follow me."

June stares at him with wide, glassy eyes. She hesitates to move, worried of being a burden and potentially getting Raphael caught. The large turtle grits his teeth before he adds, "I'm not gonna let any of them lay a hand on you. There's nothin' to be afraid of. Not when I'm around. Alright?"

June starts to sit up, reaching for Raphael's outstretched hand. "Alright," she nods.

The red-masked turtle loops his arms around June’s waist and her legs like earlier, lifting her off the ground. She squeals at the hastily gesture. Raphael turns around and takes a step into the open space. The smoke slowly begins to clear and the turtle could be spotted at any moment.

June sniffles, holding back a set of tears. Raphael notices, and he nibbles on his toothpick, twitching to say something else. Something comforting. “You gotta trust me, Red,” he says to her. June turns her head to look at him. “Again,” he adds.

“Again?” June repeats with a questionable lift of her eyebrow—she hisses at the sting.

“Again," Raphael confirms.

It takes June a moment to understand what he means by that. But when she does, she gasps in his face. Raphael smirks at her realization. June wipes her eyes dry, putting on a brave face for him. “I’m sorry. Okay, yeah. I’m ready.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

The lair turns into a smoky maze as the Foot soldiers search through the rubble with one target: the mutated experiments.