Chapter Text
A storm came and tore apart New York City.
The sunset after was so beautiful, even Leo gave in and climbed up to the surface and watched the gold and orange and pink and blue and yellow blanket the whole sky, almost smothering them in its unreal haze.
The city was a mirror of puddles reflecting that sky. Mikey wanted to scoop up the water and save it in a jar, but only if it would hold those ethereal colors forever. A picture would do, but it would never reflect the overwhelming sublime standing beneath that sky.
Some weird things happened after the storm. First, the grid kept going down. Donnie was bragging about how he had three generators for the lair, in case of severe outages like this. It was odd, he had said, how despite the storm being over, the grid was now fizzing out like that. Blocks would go without power, transformers erupting in the streets. There was a fire at a Brooklyn warehouse due to an electrical failure.
Raph noticed the graffiti. There was a new tag being thrown up around town, completely disregarding the turfs and even going into Purple Dragon territory. Whoever was doing this was ballsy. It was the same person who later added art, of ninjas and their weapons, yokai of legend, a bowl of soup, all signed with the same little green tag.
They only got off their shells when the tremors started, weeks after the storm and it hadn’t felt weird anymore. The transformers had stopped exploding, but this was their New York and nothing stayed “normal” for long.
The tremors came from the sewer tunnels. Sometimes they were just gentle jolts, enough to startle, sometimes they knocked things from their shelves. Donnie could not locate an epicenter, and the local earthquake maps were not registering them on the Richter scale because it wasn’t within its range in accordance with the earth’s crust. A phenomenon, noted by the news, in which the epicenter was located directly under New York City. Opinionators and scientists scratched their head on the matter, weighing it as to what machinery or pipes could be causing the rattling under their feet. More humans have been trekking the sewers to try and solve the problem, checking all the water filtration plants and underground electricals, but to no avail.
Donnie checked the scanners. There was no Kraang activity. Their silence concerning but the lack of energy readings from their portals and such made him somehow even more nervous. There had been a flash bang over the Hudson almost a month ago, nor any Kraang or Renet linked to the incident. They had scouted the area and found nothing but readings that confused Donnie’s scanners and left him floundering to decipher exactly what they meant.
No one was really concerned about it, but Donnie was always left overthinking all these little things. And maybe he was right to do so, at least this one time.
The Foot have also been quiet. There haven’t been any clashes with them nor the Purple Dragons in a few weeks. Patrol has been boring.
“The calm before the storm,” Donnie murmured to himself, scanning his radars and triangulating the tremors, cross referencing old and new maps, graphs and charts. The earthquakes were coming from the sewers, not the earth, directly under New Yorkers’ feet and only a few doors down from their subway station. They’d been getting worse since they started up two weeks ago, growing wilder and stronger.
“We’ll go investigate,” Leo agreed. “Donnie, have you figured out where they’re coming from?”
“Whatever it is, it's within this area of the sewers, even sometimes dipping deeper to the underground city,” Donnie pointed to his worn map of the sewers, divided into complex layers and cross-referenced with the older maps from archives of the underground city. Nor did the humans have any luck in finding the source.
There was a source, that district around Brooklyn specifically. And that was discovered because Donnie’s machines were a little bit better than what the humans were working with.
“Okay, guys,” Leo puffed his chest in his Captain Ryan imitation. “We split up into two teams: Mikey and Donnie, me and Raph. We’ll keep our T-phones close and keep an eye on our trackers at all times. This could be anything, so we need to be cautious. Don’t take chances and keep the team posted. Got it?”
He was met with grumbled complaints from Raph and Mikey’s too-enthusiastic agreement. They split down the sewers, Donnie checking his palm-top with the triangulated locations bleeping in the echoing sewer. They were within range but the maze of open tunnels were old, unused in these parts.
Mikey trailed behind Donnie, eyes focused on some of the garbage that had collected in the sewer crevices. Donnie paused, frowning. “C’mon. We can go digging around this stuff later if something caught your eye to take back—”
Whatever had caught Mikey’s eye was already scooped up into his hand. A ragged cloth hung of fabric with shredded ends, holey and nasty. It was dripping in dirty water and nothing more than a scrap of trash. Mikey rang it out to reveal the filthy cherry red.
“I think this is a mask. Look, here. Eyeholes.” He pointed at two holes that looked certainly parallel to each other.
“Haha. You think Raph would wear it?” Donnie humored him.
In an uncharacteristic bout of seriousness, Mikey didn’t laugh with him. “I’m… going to take this with us.” He shoved the nasty scrap of fabric into his belt and continued after Donnie.
The tunnels grew colder as they descended, the darkness growing oppressive. Mikey walked closer to Donnie, his own flashlight beam starting to shiver as it roved across the walls. The water runoff was getting wider and deeper, up to their thighs now. There was a howl in these tunnels, faraway wind echoing too ominously in the pitch black.
As Donnie opened his mouth to suggest they turn back before they caught colds from the freezing water, their twin beams of light shone across the same spot on the wall and froze.
Three deep claw marks, breaking through the old stone like butter. More were scattered, chunks taken out of the wall with cratered gouges . There was a stench oozing from the water, something sharp and distinct, unlike the fresh odor that emanated from the sewers.
“What could have done this?” Mikey whispered, his voice carrying in the echoing quiet.
Donnie thought about those horrid worms the Kraang had brought with them. Another beast of the Kraang’s, perhaps? Or an unruly beast, almost like Leatherhead when he was lost in himself?
He shuddered to think about another giant reptile mutant swinging him around by his face.
They shuffled forward, nearly holding their breath in the quiet as their sloshing steps reverberated across the walls. The putrid smell stank of rot, metallic and sharp. Like death and a dizzying musk that left Donnie a little disoriented.
There was a shift in the water. They stopped, letting the current swirl around their legs. Something up ahead moved. A shadow under the surface. Cold ice doused Donnie’s blood as he realized the sheer breadth of the beast prowling closer to them.
An arch of something large shifted in the water. They shined their flashlights upon it just in time to see rows of dark spikes disappear in the water. A growl rumbled through the water, shaking their feet and reverberating up their bones. Mikey audibly gulped.
There was a tidal wave of water bursting from below. Mikey and Donnie stumbled back with twin screams. The thing shot forward to their legs. They barely leaped out of the way in time before the distinct sound of heavy jaws snapping nearly took their legs off at the knees. Mikey swung from the pipes above, flashlight between his teeth as he screamed around it.
It attracted the beast. It leapt from the water. Square head, wide, empty eyes, a jagged plastron, a spiked carapace, a distinct arms and legs with spikes and—
“A turtle .” Roughly the size of Slash, with a spiked shell and all. Mikey yelped and swung away from the snapping turtle. It was an actual snapping turtle based on the sheer size alone, the distinct bite, and the rows of sharp spikes.
“Do you think he’s leftover from when we dropped mutagen all over the city?” Mikey asked. He was swinging wildly to avoid the snapping turtle, flashlight dropping from his mouth and disappearing into the water. It bounced along the water surface and illuminated the tunnel with an ominous glow, silhouetting the beast of a turtle.
It swung at Donnie when it realized it couldn’t get Mikey in the pipes. He was fast — one second jumping for Mikey, the next he was in Donnie’s face claws first. Donnie barely managed to dodge. A fist impacted the wall where his head had been a moment ago, a new crater in the old brick. Donnie let out a shriek a few octaves too high.
“He could be! It’s like when Slash was mutated but worse!”
“Don’t say that!” The snapping turtle had turned his might back toward Mikey as he tried to scale the pipes to safety. “He beat our shells! This one is going to make us into turtle soup!”
A growl echoed through the tunnel, doubled from both his throat and his… stomach? He launched himself at Mikey at an astounding speed from his size, the water lashing away like wild rapids.
“Backup! Get backup!” Mikey screamed as the snapping turtle finally managed to snatch his leg as he tried leaping over him to safety. “Before I’m stir-fried with seasonal vegetables and tastefully seasoned!”
Donnie fumbled for his T-phone, speed dialing Leo, just as the snapping turtle swung Mikey in a wide arc and threw him down the length of the sewer. Mikey screamed, but tucked himself into his shell just in time before impact. He skidded across the water a couple times like a skipped stone before he spun out of sight.
Leo picked up on the second ring. “Donnie, what’s up?”
“We found it! Hurry before we’re stir-fried with seas— AARRGH!” The snapping turtle grabbed Donnie by the face— why his face?! — and launched him after Mikey. The air whipped past him, knocking the breath out of him as he spun out of control through the air. He did not retract his limbs in time and fell head first down the open pipe to the wide open drainage pool. The water cushioned his impact but the shock made him freeze for a moment. He floated, unsure where his phone went, unsure where Mikey went, or where he was going.
A roar echoed, muffled through the water. Words. Garbled, unable to make them out. The water rumbled around him. He spun in the whirlpool of storm water. Debris scraped against his exposed scales. He could hold his breath for a while but the dizziness from the impact and the swirling pool left him disoriented. His head pounded, he couldn’t breathe.
A hand grabbed his arm. For a moment, he thought the snapping turtle was fishing him out to dine on him, but it was just Mikey.
“Dee! Donnie!” Mikey shouted into his ear. “I got you!”
Donnie heaved a sharp breath, coughing out water from his overflowing lungs. His vision spotted black and white, unable to blink away the stars as Mikey’s muffled voice was warm next to him.
“He’s coming! We gotta go, c’mon!” Mikey tried paddling them to the lip of the pool, struggling against the current and Donnie’s weight. He could only manage a feeble kick, all energy drained from him and darkness creeping closer to the edges of his vision. His head hurt.
“Back off, big guy!” It was Raph charging in sai first with Leo on his tail from the upper level where the snapping turtle had seemed to be lording over them from a platform.
Mikey managed to pull them out of the water and gently leaned Donnie against the wall. He was shivering and definitely had a concussion, pneumonia too if they didn’t get him washed and warmed up soon.
“You good?” Mikey pressed gentle fingers to a spot on the back of his head. Donnie hissed, the pain flaring. “You’re not bleeding, but you hit the water head first, dude.”
“Not good,” grunted Donnie. Stars kept dancing across his vision. “Concussed.”
“Ouch. I’ll get the guys to call a retreat,” Mikey said firmly. He patted Donnie’s knee and ran to the battle.
“Guys! Guys! Donnie’s hurt badly! We need to go!”
That only lit a fire in Raph. He growled and launched himself at the snapping turtle with a new fury. The beast deflected the blows and swiped a precise kick, followed by a quick punch toward Raph’s head. Leo threw a shuriken at the knick of time, glancing off the snapping turtle’s scaled arm but leaving a scarlet trail. It roared from the blow.
“We need to wrap it up. Raph, let’s go!” Leo ordered.
“Not until I get a good hit on this guy for Donnie.” Raph didn’t take his eyes from the snapping turtle.
To Mikey’s awe, the snapping turtle seemed to note Raph’s challenge and slipped into a boxer’s stance, arms raised to block and fists curled, feet wide and stable. His blank eyes seemingly saw nothing, similar to the almost predatory way their own third eyelid covered their eyes in the heat of tight battle. The snapping turtle’s lip curled back to reveal a snaggletooth that protruded from the rest of his yellowing teeth.
Raph attacked first. The snapping turtle redirected his blows and threw a sharp, fast fist to his stomach. The hit landed, knocking the breath from him. Leo took that moment to go around the beast and aim for the softer plastron belly, followed by a swift kick to his knees.
The snapping turtle went down to one knee with a grunt, swinging a heavy fist at Leo. Too fast, the hit landed and Leo flew into the railing. Mikey took out his ‘chucks and ran into the fray, intending to at least push the snapping turtle back enough to allow them to escape. He was fast, the fastest of his brothers, and dodged the raining blows. The impacts of fist dented the metal walkway. They could easily crush his skull if he wasn’t careful. He flipped through the air, trying to land a head blow in retaliation for Donnie.
“Taste my nunchuck fury! FOR DONNIE!” Mikey shouted.
His ‘chuck hit the mark, right across the eyes. Raph and Leo whooped as the snapping turtle stumbled back from the blow, then the following blows to the back of his head, chin, shoulder, chest, knees, waist, top of his head.
He fell. Right over the railing. Mikey peaked over the edge and found him dangling over the whirlpool of storm water that nearly took him and Donnie.
His eyes, bruises blooming across his face, were clear. Dark and wide with fright. His pupils were bloated and disoriented, shaking but alive. His mouth opened, no sound came out.
Mikey reached to grab him just as his hand slipped and he plummeted into the water.
Raph and Leo were cheering. Raph tackled him and rubbed his head with a hard-fisted noogie. Leo had Donnie supported with his arm over his shoulder and a hand clasped around his waist. Donnie didn’t look too good, his head drooping and knees weak.
“Dee threw up a moment ago. We need to get out of here. Let’s get back to the lair and get him some ibuprofen and a bed.” Leo hoisted Donnie’s arm further over his shoulder and turned to leave.
“What are you waiting for? Let's go,” nudged Raph. Mikey was still looking over the edge where the snapping turtle fell. “We’ll game plan once we get Donnie laying down. I’m sure it won’t be the last we see of our little friend.”
“He’s just like Leatherhead,” said Mikey. “I think he snapped out of it for a moment. I saw his eyes. He looked afraid, Raph.”
Raph’s jaw clenched. “We’ll play it by ear. We know he’s here. I don’t think a guy who can punch like that will be taken out by the storm drains.”
“I’m calling Leatherhead when we get back. Maybe he can help?”
“I would honestly love to see them go at it. Who do you think would win in a wrestling match?”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Donnie would be fine. Splinter had Donnie rest in his own room behind the dojo with dim candles, hot tea, and some ibuprofen. He was going to periodically wake him up to ensure he would be okay. He had a welt on the back of his head and had a hard time walking straight, but he seemed almost okay. Physical and mental rest was a must, much to Donnie’s chagrin. And he knew better than anyone how much he’d need to rest for the next week or so before he could even step foot into his lab after a blow to the head like that.
“I’ll let him play Sudoku in a few days,” Splinter said. “No books, no TV, no lab. Only rest.”
“And good soup,” added Mikey.
“And good soup, of course.”
“Mikey, tell them what you saw,” said Raph.
Mikey was in the kitchen cooking a huge pot of chicken noodle soup. “I actually… have a theory.” The broth was simmering so he had a moment to step away and pull out what he’d found.
The ragged cloth was laid out across the table. Shredded tails, two eye holes poked out, and a distinct bright red.
“He was a turtle. And I found this as we got closer to his hideout. I have a feeling… he could be like those other guys we met. The other us’s.”
Silence. Mikey continued. “This is obviously something we wear, but look how wide the top is. See?” He held the mask to his head. It stank of sewer and sweat, underlined with a distinct musk he associated with Raph’s day nine of no showers, and the eye holes were too big and far apart on Mikey’s round head, but the wide part on top indicated it covered his whole head. “It’s so big and he had such a big head. This could be his. Do you know anyone else in the sewers wearing color-coded masks?”
“Mikey… then why would he attack us like that?” Leo asked slowly.
Mikey shrugged. “He seems to be a Raph.”
“Hypothetically speaking, if he was a me, where are the others?” prompted Raph.
“Yes, you four are always a pack. Even your other selves stuck close when they visited,” noted Splinter.
“Maybe he’s like that ‘cause he’s the only one here. Maybe he is like Leatherhead and he’s been through something really, really bad and this is the only way he can cope. He doesn’t have his brothers, so what else is he supposed to do?”
Splinter stroked his beard with a pensive look. “I would like to go with you guys to meet this other turtle. Once Donnie is better, of course. I don’t want to leave him alone.”
“Fine, in three days once Donnie can read Magic Treehouse on his own without hurling,” said Raph.
“We’ll call April and Casey. April because maybe she can get some insight on him, and Casey ‘cause I know he’d be mad if we left him out of this. He’s still mad he couldn’t meet our alternatives last time,” said Leo.
“I’m calling Leatherhead, too. He could help,” added Mikey.
“Please do, Michelangelo. We could use his wisdom. The situation is scarily close to how he had been,” Splinter agreed.
“Hypothetically, if that turtle really is an alternative… how do we get him home? What about his brothers?” asked Leo quietly.
The idea of them being separated like that… it didn’t sit right with any of them. Hypothetically, if this was another world’s Raphael far from home, what were his brothers doing to bring him back?
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
April and Casey were over the following day. Donnie was awake but sluggish and sleepy, his speech slurred and he kept trailing off, loosing his train of thought. It was scary, to say the least, but he had woken up no problem through the night and would remain under vigilant watch for another night before he was allowed full rest. Only Splinter and his brothers were allowed to see him though, not wanting to overwhelm him with too many people. They spoke quietly and let him relax with the candles and Splinter’s constant company where he would tell him soft stories to pass the time while he was awake.
Mikey, Leo, and Raph had gone off into the sewers to do a tentative search of the area they’d found the other turtle to see if they could dig up clues.
There was something. Torn strips of white bandages. Shredded elbow guards in that same bright red, stained dirty from the sewer. A belt. A brooch of some sort was found in the ankle deep water. Mikey flipped it around in his hand, finding a clip on the back while the front sort of looked like a stylized T. It was lightweight but clearly heavy duty.
“Look at this!” Mikey showed the little brooch to them. “Cool belt buckle maybe?” He pictured the big turtle in big cowboy boots and a bolo tie to match the big buckle.
Leo shone his flashlight on it. It was oval and a deep green with pulse lines running across the center. It definitely hooked to something, the metal cold and heavy in his hand.
“Looks like a turtle shell,” noted Raph.
“I think your theory is starting to pull together,” said Leo.
Mikey pressed his thumb to the buckle and found it clicked. It started beeping with a green flashing light, then a clipped audio recording played.
“Thank you for pressing the Panic Button. Your panic is important to us. Please stand by while Donatello and co. rescue you.”
They stared wide-eyed at each other. The beeping continued for a while longer, getting faster and faster, then blared red.
“I’m sorry. You cannot be rescued at this time. Please try again later.”
The button went dark again.
“... I think Donnie would say this is no longer a hypothetical and now a proven theory that that turtle is, in fact, an alternative of us.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Leatherhead was over not even an hour later. With their incredible healing factor, on day three Donnie was allowed to play Sudoku in the living room, but he had a blanket over his head and the lights were half off to accommodate his suddenly sensitive vision. He squinted at the page as he shakily filled in the answers. He would still at least need a week before he was allowed out for so much as a stroll through the sewers, let alone a fight.
“Michelangelo, I’m very happy you called me,” said Leatherhead upon his arrival.
“Leatherhead!” Mikey leaped into his arms, loving the embrace of his friend as much as he loved the embrace of his brothers. “I missed you!”
“We Mutanimals have been busy, but never too busy for you. How may I help?”
April and Casey were already here, and with Donnie now healed enough he could participate with his sluggishness.
“Okay, we gave you the abridged version earlier, but this is what happened.” Leo broke down the incident to key points, then turned over their findings in the sewers earlier. The bandana, bandages, ripped gear, the panic button that they pressed.
Donnie snatched it from Leo’s hand and watched it with wide-eyed wonder as it rattled off the Donatello message, beeped again, then stated its final message.
“I’m sorry. You cannot be rescued at this time. Please try again later.”
“A me made this? Whoa…” he traced the edges of the button, examining its smooth edges and lightweight feel. “I think this is industrial grade ti… titanium. Whatever material this Donatello has to work with, it’s-it’s good. This must be what he uses to track his bro-brothers.”
“You track us?” Raph asked incredulously.
“I’d be insane not to.”
“That’s smart that there’s a panic button to notify them if they’re in trouble,” added Leo.
“Brilliant. I’m mad I didn’t impla— impuh…uh… add that to the phone.”
“Implement?” April helpfully filled.
“Yeah, that. I’ll have to now with the next upgrade.”
They all winced. Donnie hit his head pretty hard and it was taking a toll on him mentally, his words slurred and slow, his usual vast lexicon gone from him. The furrowed brow meant he was aware of his struggle and frustrated over it. This wasn’t the first time one of them has had a concussion, but this was the first time Donnie got one.
Casey (gently) thumped him on the shell. “Don’t beat yourself up. Concussions are just a Tuesday for me.”
“It makes sense.”
“Hey…”
“Just don’t make it a habit, Dee,” said April. Donnie blushed and ducked down to the panic button again.
“If he is us, which one is he?”
“Raph, duh.” Mikey waved at the mask laid out on the couch. It was torn on the tails like their Raph’s mask. “Stinks like him, too.”
Raph thumped him on the back of his head. “You said he snapped out of it for a moment. What did you do?”
“I don’t know, came at him with my awesome nunchuck fury.”
“Maybe he recognized you as Mikey. Maybe not his Mikey, but as a Mikey?” suggested April.
“Raph, if you were completely feral and I came at you with my nunchucks, would you snap out of it, brutha?” Mikey turned to Raph.
“I would concuss you, actually.”
“No more concussions! Guys, Leatherhead, what do you think we should do? How should we approach him?” Leo snapped them back on track.
Leatherhead stroked his long jaw. “Perhaps do as Mikey did. Approach with kindness. If he is like me, traumatized and afraid, you can’t run at him like a threat. Be on guard, in case of any more head-grabbing—” that earned a snort from Donnie “—Give him no reason to bite.”
“Kind of like approaching a wild dog,” said April.
“Actually, he’s uh, the alligator snapping turtle to be precise, if I am correct. I’ll confirm once he’s nice. It would explain his… bigness. They’re the largest fresh turtles.”
“Bigness,” said Casey.
“Fresh turtle,” said Raph.
“You know what I meant,” glowered Donnie.
“Freshwater turtles?” April supplied.
“Yes, that one.”
“April, if we could get him calm, or at least still for long enough, could you get close enough to see what’s doing that to him?” asked Leo. He had that faraway, contemplative look he got when he was making hard decisions.
April furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. That feels… invasive.”
“Just figure out if he’s truly gone or if there’s something in there we can save. It’ll be dangerous, he’s really strong and fast, but if we feel it's safe enough for you to approach and do your thing, we can. Don’t try to push it.”
“Okay. I think I can take a peek.”
“When should we go? Now?” Raph was already on his feet cracking his knuckles, Casey right behind him.
“No, not until Donnie is better enough to be alone. Give him a couple more days,” said Splinter firmly.
“The turtle could be agitated,” added Leatherhead. “He needs time to calm down before approaching again.”
“Like a wild dog,” nodded Casey.
“That’s if he can be saved,” said Leo. “I don’t want to be a Debby downer, but there’s a chance he’s gone for good. Then what?”
“I don’t think so,” said Mikey. “I saw him. He had a moment of clarity while he was hanging off the bridge. Not only that, after he’d thrown Donnie, I heard him yell something. It was garbled, but I think he said ‘alone’.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
It took Donnie three more days before he wasn’t stumbling around anymore. He was still wobbly at the knees but was well enough that he knew when to rest. His head still throbbed but it had significantly lessened in pain. He was now allowed to read lower grade reading level books like The Magic Treehouse and the Percy Jackson series (no loss to him, he loved those books) but could only handle short bursts of both screen time and reading time before his eyes and head hurt. His lab was completely locked up and he was banned from stepping foot in it until he could read The Great Gatsby in one sitting without pushing himself or seeing the words swim off the page. A challenge he was willing to take.
Everyone— his brothers, April, Casey, Splinter, and Leatherhead— went off the very night Donnie finished the fifth Percy Jackson book, as if that was their indicator to go.
They found the wrecked sewer where the giant snapping turtle had made a home. The place was trashed, with punched-through walls and slashed pillars. There was an alcove with a doused fire, rags of fabric in a makeshift bed. They dutifully ignored the animal bones littering the nook.
“Home sweet home,” muttered Raph. He had a firm grip on his sai, not drawing his weapons yet.
“How sweet could it be if he’s all alone,” muttered Splinter. He prodded the rat skull with the tip of his cane.
“At least he’s been eating?” Mikey grimaced. He Googled alligator snapping turtles to see what they were up against and found that they definitely ate other turtles. Smaller turtles, to be precise. Which they were. Mikey shuddered.
“We need to leave. He is not here and if he comes back to strangers in his den—” Leatherhead was cut off by a growl.
Splinter was between them and the snapping turtle in an instant, cane gripped firmly in his hand and battle-stance ready, but he did not move to charge. Neither did the snapping turtle.
Leatherhead still had a couple of feet in height over the growling snapping turtle. It did not seem to deter the turtle at all. Very Raph of him.
Casey let out a low whistle. “Dude’s probably bigger than Slash. Raph, if I were you and my alternative self was massive, I’d be so mad about getting the short end of the stick.”
Raph punched him in the shoulder.
There was a standoff. The snapping turtle bared his jagged tooth with a snarl, white eyes zeroed in on what he must perceive as the main threats— Leatherhead and Splinter.
“Maybe we can talk to him,” whispered April. “But he’s mad right now.”
“You can sense him?” Leo asked.
“Sort of. Just vague emotions. I can’t read him clearly like I could with you guys, like he’s all tangled up. If we can get him pinned I’ll see if I can touch him.”
The snapping turtle huffed, steam flaring from his nostrils.
Mikey gulped. The snapping turtle growled louder, his feet shifting, ready to spring. They all saw it: the moment the snapping turtle decided he would like to kill them instead.
Leatherhead met him head on. The impact shook the very ground. Everyone fled from the alcove with Splinter placing himself between the turtles, April, and Casey and the fight.
“He is distraught,” Splinter noted. “Because we invaded his home. I wouldn’t like it either.”
Leatherhead suplexed the snapping turtle into the ground but it seemed to only make him angrier. They grappled, moves unrefined from the snapping turtle who was only trying to use his strength and speed to gain the upper hand. It was a neat tie of brute force, until the snapping turtle got his jaws around Leatherhead’s arm and bit.
Another thing Mikey had learned from his seven-minute Google search was that alligator snapping turtles had the strongest bite of any turtle, hence the name. So strong it could easily take a hand. Leatherhead howled.
Splinter charged forth, rapidly jabbing critical points on his body to make him release Leatherhead. He fell back when the snapping turtle’s jaw relaxed but even with his gaping maw (with a cute lil thing on his tongue, that was different, Mikey mused), he turned to land a blow on Splinter. It missed. Splinter couldn’t land his own blows, either. The snapping turtle had his full attention and he wanted nothing more than to mow his opponent down. Splinter went on the defensive, if only to draw him away from the teenagers.
Leatherhead pressed a hand into his steadily bleeding arm, crimson oozing between his fingers and dripping into the storm water at their feet. Mikey pulled him back to assess the wound, found it too gross to look at, and made Leatherhead put his hand back on it. April tore one of Casey’s three shirts off him and used it to temporarily bind the wound.
Leo and Raph had their weapons drawn and circled the fight. Raph had a grappling hook out.
Casey was the one who foolishly lunged in first. He came in with one of his homemade smoke bombs right at the snapping turtle’s face, temporarily blinding him. Splinter managed to land a few quick jabs to immobilize his legs. He fell to his knees with a deafening howl. Raph and Leo leapt forth, using the rope from the grappling hook to loop around his arm. April jumped up from behind and landed on his shell to grab his head, eyes shut in concentration.
She had all of three seconds before the snapping turtle roared, snapping the rope and already crawling back to his feet. He spun around fast enough to throw April off him. She landed a few yards away, skidding to a halt in the ankle-deep water.
“April!” Casey ran to her.
She gave a feeble thumbs up and a warbled, “I’m okay!”
Mikey converted his nunchaku to the kusarigama, drawing the chain taut in his hands. He didn’t want to do this, he hated having to treat him like an animal, but he was hurting them and he had no idea how to—
Those wide, frightful eyes, clear and aware, as they had stared up at Mikey.
He ran into the fray, kusarigama tossed aside in a move that would have Splinter scolding him later. The snapping turtle turned just as Mikey landed on his plastron, gripped the jagged edge and yelled right into his face.
“RAPH! I am your BROTHER, MIKEY! We’ve been looking everywhere for you, big guy! RAAAAAPH! I’m so happy to see you again! Let’s go home and eat some PIZZA and play VIDEO GAMES together!”
The snapping turtle froze. The fight silenced. No one breathed except for the snapping turtle’s panting.
He blinked once, twice. He had eyes, pupils with irises. And tears.
“Mikey, Mikey…” His voice was coarse, ragged around the edges. Tears fell from his eyes freely. He wrapped his arms tenderly, the complete opposite of how he had been hurting them all only seconds before. He held Mikey like he was made of paper-thin glass, as if he was something precious. “Mikey… Mikey…”
He fell to his knees, gripping Mikey to his plastron. “Mikey… Mikey, oh Mikey…”
Mikey wrapped his arms around his shoulders and squeezed him tight. Hot tears flowed down his collar. Somewhere behind him, April gasped.
Then Raphael tipped over, bringing Mikey down with him as he collapsed into a dead faint into the water.