Chapter Text
The rain pours down heavily.
Melancholy wafts around the city, as thickly as the pollution in the air. Wind howling, battering against every surface like a raging animal. The streets left sparse save for those few brave souls, determined to venture out despite the conditions they are presented with.
He is one such soul, undeterred as he strolls down the street. His trench coat's collar is pulled up, providing little protection against mother nature's tantrum. Hands rest within his pockets casually. Shoes clicking, muffled against the slick pavement.
The staccato of his phone's ringtone draws his attention. Lifting it to see the caller ID, he taps the screen before bringing it to his ear. The caller begins to speak immediately.
"Your cat is sloppy." She states, voice flat. "He allowed them to get away-"
He is quick to pull the phone away from his ear at her shout, piercing and shrill uncharacteristic to her infliction. "Hello to you too, dearest sister. And please, do not insult my assets."
A sigh.
"I am busy. What did you need that is so urgent that it couldn't be discussed within the next hour?"
She pauses briefly, then speaks with a hushed tone. "The serum. It is almost ready to be tested. I thought it best to relay this quickly."
At this information, he comes to a halt. A grin takes residence on his features. "Is that so? Well . . . that certainly is exciting."
"Do you have my test subject?" She persists. He eyes the figure in the distance, continuing his pace.
"You will have them, sister, I assure you." Is his answer, keeping his pace steady with practiced ease. "Now, it is lovely to speak with you, as always. I must be going. Father will be very pleased."
He disconnects the line, placing the device back into his pocket. His subordinates are moving similarly to himself, moving about the wide net he has cast and getting into position.
The target is oblivious to this, of course. Unaware of the fact they are being corralled like livestock. They all are, in the beginning. It's all part of the game.
He grows closer with intention. Once the target is in place, he makes his move. They have no time to react when his subordinates are wordlessly instructed to engage. His chuckle is deep, pleasure filling him at the sight; subordinates surrounding them, immobilizing them with their numbers. They squirm, trying to release themself from the subordinates' tomb. He approaches them slowly.
They lock eyes as he stands in front of them, and he gives a polite grin. "Good afternoon, dear."
"Wh-what are-" They struggle to speak, voice clipped with terror. "What do y-you want?! Let me go!"
He crouches to meet them at eye level, tilting his head ever so slightly to induce unease. "Oh, and why would I do that? I've finally found you."
"F-found-? What do you-! Please, just-!"
He clicks his tongue, reaching forward to grasp their face firmly. "Come now, don't be like that. After all . . ."
With a single snap of his fingers, his subordinates- no, his children, begin to encase them entirely. Their screams muffled from within their sarcophagus as the transformation starts.
A low, sinister chuckle reverberates from deep within his chest. His eyes, sharp as blades, glow with a mystic hue.
". . . the fun is about to begin."
══════════════════
Pepperoni is out of hiding.
In fact, the little Yokai has been anything but shy as she hasn't left Raph's side. Pepperoni follows him around like a duckling, always several paces behind him or snuggling with the snapper any chance that she can.
It is adorable beyond words. It fills many of them with the purest form of joy seeing her little legs trotting after him, mews and chirps being a potent cure to any negativity still present within the lair.
Well, mostly.
Some things aren't that easily cured.
Say, for instance, the hostility between two divorced dads. Divorced, that is, if they were ever joined in holy matrimony.
"He is not ready!" Splinter shouts at the Yokai, glaring with the might of a tiger. "You cannot expect me to allow this!"
Draxum stands in front of the old rat, arms folded and stern. "You may be the one who raised him, but he is not a child anymore, old man. He asked me to do this."
Their eyes meet with electrifying intensity. A battle of wills, and neither is willing to yield defeat.
Mikey, sitting off to the side, looks on with an uncomfortable frown.
Draxum is at the lair today for two purposes. The first, to test a theory he has in regards to Alopex's story. And the second . . . well, that's the bit that has Splinter in a tizzy. Though Mikey's recovered and the scars on his arms aren't as raw anymore, he still has trouble with maintaining control over his mystic abilities. Which is why, after talking it over with both Draxum and Leo, they felt it time to start up Mikey's training again.
To say Splinter is pissed is a gross understatement.
But this isn't Splinter's decision to make. And that fact has Mikey speaking up more than their argument. "Dad . . . I'll be fine."
The rat looks at the box turtle, concern carving a deep ravine on his brow. "Oh Orange . . . my son, I am just worried. And he is not the most trustworthy-." He reaches out to cup his cheek. Mikey smiles, gripping his hand in his and giving it a light, reassuring squeeze.
"I know. But Dad, Barry's right. I'm not a kid anymore. And he'll be watching to make sure everything is okay! It'll be fine."
With a heavy sigh, Splinter relents. "Okay." He then shoots one last glare at the goat man. "If anything is to happen to our boy-"
"Have faith in your son, Yoshi." Draxum says calmly, but the weight of his choice in name gives the desired effect. Splinter huffs, excusing himself from the room to give them privacy. Cheeks dusted lightly with color.
Once calm settles itself over the room, Draxum turns his attention to Mikey. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes." Mikey nods, folding his legs into a lotus position within the mystic circle. Draxum then looks over to the other Yokai, who stayed silent during their argument. Alopex is sitting in a similar fashion to Mikey as best she can with her injured knee, with each sitting an equal third from one another around the circle.
"Alright. This will not be a simple exercise." Draxum starts. "For either of you. That is why I am here. But, I am only guiding the flow of mystical energy. It is up to you both to control it."
"Hai."
"Uhm."
"Good. Let us begin."
With matching nods, the two teens close their eyes and mentally open themselves up to the flow of mystic energy. Around them, the circle begins to glow, and a slight shift in the atmosphere has Alopex and Draxum's clothing billowing in the invisible stream.
"That's it. Good. Feel what is surrounding you."
Mikey is the first to reach out, the echoes of his chains being heard in their shared mindscape. Draxum's mystic stretches over them both, encouraging their own abilities to stir.
After several beats, the blanket darkness of Mikey's mind starts to shift, the clinking of his chains changing once a connection is made. He feels the mystic energy flowing out, caressing and accepting what is around him in a friendly embrace. His scars tingle, but only for a moment before everything drifts away. His mind forms snippets of locations, faces he's unfamiliar with yet he holds dear.
No, not him.
Her.
He's seeing the voice's memories again. She's not gonna be very happy . . .
Draxum senses his unease. "Michelangelo?"
Mikey's face tenses just the tiniest bit. "I- . . . I'm okay."
Alopex's ears twitch, but she is otherwise a statue. She is fully taken over, her mind in a trance, the shimmer of a faint symbol appears on her forehead as Mikey's connection grows stronger. Soon, it's as though he's wearing her skin, and he is no longer in the lair. He isn't even in the twenty-first century. He feels the dirt and soil beneath her feet, can taste the crisp freshness of the air as it enters her lungs. He can even feel the wisps of hair at the base of her neck as they dance in the wind, even though it is something completely foreign to himself. He hears laughter, bright and cheery as she runs, and the heavy rise and fall of her chest with every pump of her legs.
The sun shines brightly above her, and she giggles cheerfully as she runs down the path. The village is in good spirits today, as they prepare for the Harvest Festival's main event later this week. It's one of her favorites! And, more importantly, it's one of Father's. Her siblings all have tasks that they must complete by then, and she's almost finished with hers.
She must gather decorations for the table, a simple yet complicated task she very much enjoys. The older women in the village always share bundles of their crops with her, more often as the air grows colder. So, acting on habit, she goes to visit the old woman on the edge of the village, who's crops are always prosperous and gives the warmest of smiles.
Walking up to the little cabin, she pauses. The hairs on her arm raise as she nears the door. Something isn't right . . .
"Obāsan?" She calls softly, placing her hand on the door's surface. Slowly, the door creaks open, and she moves to glance inside. "Obāsan, I came to-"
The words die before conception in her throat, choked out by the horror she sees before her. The old woman is lying flat on the ground, the village's priestess and a few others are gathered around her. They are all solemn, one of the young women weeping into the priestess' side. The priestess looks over sharply, and as their eyes meet, they are nothing but daggers. She holds an object between her fingers, which has her pausing.
"You." The priestess says slowly, voice thick with accusation. "You are responsible for this, aren't you?!"
She steps back, her basket falling to the ground. She shakes her head. "W-what?! No, it wasn't-"
Mikey gasps softly, coming back to himself. His arms are tingling, and his chains clink in mindscape with his unease. Draxum, seeing this, addresses him with concern. "Michelangelo."
Mikey meets the Yokai's eye, breathing more rapidly than normal. "I-I . . ."
"Breathe, son." He says evenly, the choice of words making Mikey pay attention to them. "Take a breath, and we can continue shortly."
Alopex, awoken from her trance in a similar manner, hugs her arms around herself. It is never easy to relive those memories, that particular one being extremely difficult for her to stomach. Alopex as she is now has never experienced death like that, and to relive it so vividly . . .
She was a dear friend . . . the voice says with a somber tone, but does not elaborate.
Mikey, taking several breaths, centers himself once more. Draxum waits, taking a moment to check in with the younger Yokai. "Miss Shen? Are you alright?"
Alopex flinches a bit, meeting his eye with fur bristled at her surprise. "H-Hai . . . just, thinking . . ."
A nod, but he doesn't pry.
Mikey opens his eyes again, meeting Draxum's. "Okay, Barry, I'm good."
"Do not push yourself too much, Michelangelo. We do not have to continue today." He warns again,
"No, really. I can keep going. You too, right Alopex?"
A small sound of acknowledgement from the fox, and Draxum sighs. They're soon settling back into position, and reconnection is made.
The scenery changes. It's the same village as before, but much later. She sits at the base of a tree, legs curled up to her chest as she looks on with a frown. Though she has grown, it has been several decades since the old woman passed. She barely looks to be in her teens, but she has already lived so many lifetimes. There is a sound from above, but she doesn't budge as the party responsible is quick to join her side.
"Father is looking for you." He states, leaping down from the branch before taking a seat at her side. His tone whimsy.
"I know . . ." Her voice is soft-spoken, not portraying anything, but telling nonetheless.
He leans into her sightline, his ever present grin dripping with mischief. It is a fact she's known for some time, that her brother and sister are often up to no good. Usually they mean no harm, but there have been times where their games have gone too far. That is to say, she does not trust his grin for the life of her.
"If you make Father wait, he will not be very happy." He reiterates, leaning back on his palms before resting completely on his back. He folds his hands behind his head casually. "And we both know what Father is like when he is not happy."
She doesn't move an inch, simply staring out to the village. "I know . . ."
She can feel his eyes on her, followed by a heavy sigh. "Sis, why do you care so much? They're only humans. They are born, live for a short time, and then die all while we do not age a single day. It isn't worth getting attached to them."
She stays quiet, hugging her knees more closely to her chest. She leans her cheek against it. "Because . . . they were nice to me. And even though I know they will die long before I do, I just- . . ." She lets out a small grumble bordering on a whimper. "I just do not understand why they do not trust me anymore . . ."
He doesn't say another word for several beats, allowing her to vent her frustrations even if for a moment. "Sis . . . they have never trusted us."
Her eyes widen, and she glances over to be met with a stern look. It's a look so very much like their Father, that it takes her aback. "The humans are fickle and cruel. They treat anything that they fear as the spawn of evil itself. We only associate with them because it is what Father wishes, but why should we?"
He sits up, his grin dimming. "Why should we be nice to them? When they do not even trust us to be anything but the embodiment of their nightmares?"
She frowns at his logic. Not because of it being unfounded, but the opposite. It isn't factless, and that is what makes her sad. "Brother . . ."
A small squeak is heard before he scoops them up, stroking the small creature affectionately as he stands. "You need to decide, Sister. And Father is still waiting for you." Is his parting words before she watches him retreat down the cliffside.
Mikey senses the voice hitch at the memory, and he imagines reaching out a comforting hand to her. He squeezes it in his mind's eye. Even though his arms tingle, he swears that he can feel the voice return the gesture physically on his skin.
More time passes, the simply made huts of the village change to more sturdy structures. Steam drifting to meet the sky from several dwellings. She walks down the path, feeling the eyes, and hearing the hushed tones drift to her ears after she passes-
"Mikey!" Leo's voice breaks into his consciousness, his mind crash landing back into reality like a meteorite on the earth's surface. "Sorry, hermanito, but Junior needs us downtown. We gotta move!"
Draxum frowns at the interruption, but wordlessly gestures for the box turtle to follow the slider. Mikey smiles a bit apologetically before leaving soon after.
At his departure, Draxum turns his focus onto Alopex. He walks over, assisting her up before she readjusts the crutch with a smile.
"Thank you."
"It is no trouble, Miss Shen. But, I do have some questions for you. Do you mind if we speak for a moment?" His tone is flat, and her ears perk towards him before she meets his eye.
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When you grow up in an apocalypse, you don't always realize all of the things that were taken from you before you've had the chance to truly appreciate them. What's normal for some kids, like going to have pizza or play a new video game, is completely foreign and still hard to grasp for Casey Jr. He still remembers his time hunkering down, going from one base to the next just to survive until his birthday.
Especially after Uncle Tello died.
That birthday, almost four years ago now, still haunts him. Casey Jr. avoids interacting with the soft shell on that day. Even if he isn't really his Uncle Tello, he still struggles with it.
He still struggles with all of the death dates, even if his family is no longer in existence.
Sigh . . .
Being taken in by the younger Hamato clan has been both a blessing, and a fucking curse.
That being said, Casey Jr. finds new reasons to appreciate his life. Pizza is his favorite thing ever, a close second being the delectable pancakes Mikey makes. He's heard of pancakes his entire childhood, including an inside joke between Uncle Tello and his Sensei, but the first time Casey Jr. actually got to try them wasn't until several months after the Invasion.
Mikey was given the all clear to use his hands more regularly, and he was so excited that the box turtle went straight for the baking supplies. No one entered the kitchen until they were given the invitation, but the results were mouthwatering and, dare he say, orgasmic on Food Wars levels.
Anime is still a hit or miss for Casey Jr., as none of the adults indulged when he was old enough to understand what it was. They held onto Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim with white knuckles, but eventually movies were banished to the wayside; most entertainment was.
For the sake of the mission. Always for the sake of the mission.
Now though, Casey Jr. has been slowly consuming and experiencing all of the things his family used too, like Master Leonardo wanted.
The doomsday boy walks down the sidewalk, eyes glued to the screen of his cellphone as he plays Pokémon Go. The franchise has been his hyperfixation for weeks now, and he can't get enough. Casey Jr. doesn't even register when the Mad Dogs tease him about being in his "Trainer Phase". He has more important things to focus on.
Like catching a high level Dratini, and taking over the Gym a few blocks away.
Rain and wind be damned.
He thanks his training for being able to navigate more easily now, seamlessly stepping around the puddles and occasional civilians all while he tries not to get frustrated at the game.
After several attempts, the Dratini runs and Casey Jr. lets out a controlled breath of air. His grip on the cursed device tightens microscopically.
He's almost within range of the Gym now. All Casey Jr. has to do is cross at an upcoming traffic intersection, and pass three Pokéstops before finally reaching his destination. After that, he's good to meet his mom- no, Cassandra isn't his mom. Not yet. Anyway, they agreed to meet to finish up some last minute assignments, before winter break starts. Then, they can head over to the Lair.
Thank you, Uncle Tello, for ruthlessly drilling advanced science and mathematics into his head for nearly a decade.
Slipping his phone into his pocket, Casey Jr. raises his arms just enough to feel a satisfying pop in his lower back after a beat. Once the tension leaves him, Casey Jr. drops his arms to instead hug himself, a fruitless attempt to replenish some warmth. The rain has long since soaked through the thin material, and the wind bites at his skin like razor blades.
Casey Jr. frowns.
If his Uncle Tello was still around, Casey Jr. would ask him to put his Genius Built™ logo on the rain. If it was trademarked, then he could sue his uncle for the damage. That, unfortunately, is an impossible scenario, and he resigns himself instead to cursing mother nature for throwing an unwelcome tantrum.
Hunching his shoulders, Casey Jr. passes a few shops with contemplation. It would be easy to slip inside for a few minutes, warm up and maybe get a bite to eat. But no, he needs to meet Cassandra on time. The cafe that they're meeting at would not survive in the wake of her temper.
Drumming his fingers lightly, Casey Jr. waits for the walk signal to turn at the intersection. It feels like an eternity, but soon the red hand turns into the white stick figure, and Casey Jr. steps into the path.
Wheels squeal off in the distance. Horns blaring soon after.
Common in the city, yes. Especially in a downpour like this. But, what catches Casey Jr.'s attention is the voices. The volume at which he hears a scream has Casey Jr.'s mind slamming back to the apocalypse.
All of a sudden, he isn't crossing an intersection.
He's still in New York, but not the present. He's in the other timeline, his timeline, where the city is a husk; a decimated corpse of the thriving population it used to be. Screams ring out around him, terror palpable as the base crumbles into dust.
The Kraang's latest assault hits harder, being only nine months since Uncle Tello's death.
The sting of sulfur vapor hits his nose as Casey Jr. runs by the faceless figures. Sure, at one point in time they've had faces and names, but they aren't important to Casey Jr.
No, his family is important.
And right now, his family is off fighting the pack of Kraang dogs as Casey Jr. is left behind, recuperating due to an injury sustained on his last mission.
Well, he was recuperating.
Having the base falling on top of everyone isn't really on the recommended treatment list.
Casey Jr., though fighting the pain, manages to avoid overhead hazards on his way outside. He's passing what used to be a large bay window when he's caught off guard. The beam from one of the Kraang dogs engulfs Casey Jr., making him freeze like one of those creatures his uncle used to mention in bedtime stories.
His feet are bolted into place, eyes blown wide as fear overtakes him. The Kraang dog's shrill horn-
Wait . . .
Kraang dogs don't have-
His body is moving again, headlights from the car blinding only for a moment. In the blink of an eye, Casey Jr. feels himself being yanked back just before impact with the approaching vehicle.
Tires squeal, and the string of curses from the driver falls on deaf ears as they speed away.
Casey Jr. gathers his bearings, and the ringing in his ears subsides just as his rescuer begins to chew into him.
"-re you out of your mind, kiddo?! You can't just stop in the middle of the road like that!" Though she's yelling, he can see the concern clearly. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"
It takes Casey Jr. another moment to find his voice again, but he nods at her in acknowledgement. "Y-yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
She examines him with a small frown.
The woman is in her forties, maybe. Married, if that's really what the ring on her left ring finger is supposed to indicate. She has a bright red bob cut, the ends curling slightly. She's in an equally bright yellow leather jacket and hoodie, with a DIGG band t-shirt underneath. Jeans, ripped on the right knee and soaked despite the rain boots or umbrella she's holding.
"You sure, kiddo? You look like you just came back from a war." She emphasizes, and she isn't too far off. Though, she wouldn't know that.
And flashbacks are never fun to come out of.
His heart is still beating irregularly, and his chest hurts. Casey Jr. flexes his fingers, needing the physical sensation to help ground himself.
Deep breaths, Case. He can hear Leo's voice in his head, soothing yet stern. A thin line between medic and leader. That's it. Count in for three. Hold for five. Out for seven. Deep breaths. Yes, just like that. Good job, son.
The tinge in his chest as Leo's voice morphs into his Sensei's hurts more than the chill from the rain.
His expression must show some amount of his inner turmoil, as Casey Jr. feels a hand rest lightly on his arm. He flinches. The lady pulls her hand away quickly, her own frown deepening.
"Sorry, just- my husband served. He gets that look, too." She says softly. She tries a smile, and Casey Jr. only stares. "Would you like to step out of the rain for a bit? My dad's shop isn't too far. Just a few doors down." She gestures to said shop, and Casey Jr. can see the small shop in question. She continues. "It's slow, but he's bound to have something going. Okay?"
Casey Jr. weighs his options. He can either one, turn the nice lady down politely and meet up with Cassandra like they planned. Or two, repay her kindness and accept the invitation to get out of the rain, warm up, and decompress with a nice, warm beverage . . .
"I'd like that." Casey Jr. responds quietly, making the woman perk up. "Thank you."
"Of course, kiddo." She says.
They step away from the intersection. Several paces in, Casey Jr. glances over at her with slight hesitation. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your name?"
A giggle, followed by a smile. "So polite. And I don't mind at all! My name is April."
Hearing this has Casey Jr. returning the smile. "I have a friend named April, as well."
"As common as the shower we're in right now, yes." She adjusts the grip on her umbrella's handle, preventing it from getting blown away. "Well, you know my name. What should I call you? Unless I got lucky, and someone named their child 'kiddo'?"
A brief laugh. "No, no you didn't. I've heard weirder, though." Which he has, but anyway. One situation at a time. "I'm Casey Jones Junior. But, uh . . . my mom and friends just call me Junior, or Casey Jr."
"That is certainly easier than your full name, goodness." She says with another giggle, though not in a malicious way. Casey Jr. rubs at his neck, slightly embarrassed.
"Yeah . . . mom has a lot of pride." He smiles, strained at the massive downplay of his statement.
They reach the shop, an antiques parlor, and April's assumption turns out to be accurate as there's fresh tea waiting for them. April's dad is out when they arrive, so Casey Jr. doesn't get to thank the man immediately. April pours Casey Jr. a cup, and he takes it gratefully.
They reach the shop, an antiques parlor, and April's assumption turns out to be accurate as there's fresh tea waiting for them. April's dad is out when they arrive, so Casey Jr. doesn't get to thank the man immediately. April pours Casey Jr. a cup, and he takes it gratefully.
A sigh escapes him as the liquid travels down his throat, warming him from the inside. April has them sit a little ways from the counter so she can keep an eye on it. He savors both the pleasant company, and the tea as the fog of his flashback slowly starts to ease its grip on his mind.
He types a quick message to Cassandra, explaining the delay so she doesn't worry. Or worse, come looking for him out of her worry.
Either way, she tells him it's okay, and her reassurance fills him with nostalgic warmth. She is very much not like his mom, still very explosive and outspoken, but his mom also knew when to reign herself in when needed. She knew how to tone the passion down a bit.
However, instances like this, where she's acting so opposite to how she normally does. Soft, caring . . . nurturing. It's so painfully similar to how she behaved while he knew her. It makes Casey Jr.'s chest ache in longing, yearning to feel his mom's arms embrace him, not just her younger self. Though he hasn't been able to hug her in so long, he's not sure if he'd know what it feels like anymore.
"I can dry that for you, really quick?" April asks, pointing to his soaked hoodie.
A nod, and Casey Jr. struggles out of the sopping fabric. Once free, he hands it over with a smile. "That would be nice, thank you."
"No problem! I'll be right back. If any customers come in, hold them off for a bit." April winks before heading up to the apartment before Casey Jr. can protest.
He tries, having no customer service skills and being left in the metaphorical lion's den is not a good combination. "Wha- no, wait! I don't know h-how-! Mrs April!"
Silence.
Casey Junior's desperate plea falls as flat as his outstretched hand, once he slumps back in defeat.
He drums his fingers against the side of his mug, polishing off the tea soon thereafter. Of course, the universe is determined to screw with him as much as possible today. He heats the faint ding of the front door's entry bell chime, indicating someone just came in.
Oh.
Oh no.
Okay Casey, it's fine. Just smile, and wave . . . right? He tries to reassure himself. That's . . . th-that's how it works, right . . . ?
Casey Jr. feels the perspiration on his skin, doing just as he coached himself into doing as the gentleman comes into view.
"H-Hello! Um, the . . . M-Mrs April will be back . . . soon."
A hum of acknowledgement from the man, but otherwise Casey Jr. goes unnoticed. This has him let out a breath of relief. Without staring, he takes to observing the man as he makes his way through the aisle he can see. He's tall, his facial features obscured by the hat and thick trench coat dripping moisture around the carpet. He's also wearing a nice pair of slacks and leather shoes, clicking softly with each step. Arms folded behind his back, so as not to accidentally bump anything. He is clearly a businessman stepping in for a moment, possibly on his lunch hour. However, Casey Jr. does notice one, disturbing detail about the man that has his guard up.
Underneath the brim of his hat, glinting ever present through the shadow obscuring his face, is a grin.
He is grinning.