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Chapter Text

In all honesty? Despite his later theatrics about it, Mikey had just wanted coffee.

As compelled as he feels to cloak it behind impassioned excuses of his own maturity at thirteen years old—not ten, Raph can shove it and if he makes that joke one more time Mikey's gonna kill him—he's learned to argue for the sake of it, really. It's the only way to get what he wants these days, where it feels like every little bit of independence he's allowed requires him to build a whole case file to justify it.

Raph's iron will is normally unbendable, so Mikey's resolved to poke little holes in it so he can slip through the cracks. It hadn't taken them long to find a worthy compromise—apparently if Mikey was soooo desperate to go out and get coffee in broad daylight, April had to come along. And go in there and talk to the receptionist, because what if they notice he has three fingers? Like they'd care?

He's willing to take what he can get, and April—sweet, patient (okay, not really) April—is nothing but understanding with Raph's request. Even though Mikey's overwhelmingly convinced it's stupid.

So he sees fit to tell her.

"It's stupid!" he complains, gesticulating wildly to accentuate his point. "I'm thirteen! Thirteen, man! I'm a whole teenager! Raph was going out on his own and getting us food at like, thirteen, so why's it any different when it's me?!"

April just looks amused. "I dunno," she says, sounding like she does know. "I'm not gonna pretend like I get every one of Raph's decisions."

"Your mom let you go outside at thirteen!" Mikey exclaims. "That's how you met us!"

"Yeah, but I'm not a big mutant turtle," April laughs, sounding a little nervous. "Also I swear I was like— nine, anyway, so—" she stops in front of the building, their destination. "Oh, we're here. You wait outside, I'll go and get your order. What'chu want?"

Mikey crosses his arms and leans against the wall, still grumpy. "Usual's fine."

"You got it," April blows him a kiss, and Mikey's mouth twitches as he tries to resist smiling. It doesn't work, and he's giggling as she's slipping in through the glass door.

He's still malding about it after she leaves, although he knows he's kinda just being angry for the sake of it at this point. It's still nice to be out in the daytime, at the very least, even if he has to dress heavy in the middle of the summer to avoid being spotted. He's taking a very brave step he doesn't think Raph's ever tried, he doesn't know why that has to be something his big brother discourages.

The New York ambiance is nice. He lets himself sit there and people-watch, winding his big sensitive feelings down as he waits for April to finish it up inside the coffee shop. It's a nice day out, only a little cloudy. Everything's normal, and nobody seems to notice him. It makes it feel a little easier to breathe.

Well— until there's commotion on the other end of the street, that is.

Mikey subconsciously perks up, uncrossing his arms.

Someone shouts as they're bumped into. There's a path clearing on the sidewalk, and Mikey straighten completely as some kind of cat (dog?) runs running through, highlighter yellow and making distressed chirping sounds as it bolts right past him.

Someone shouts, "Get back 'ere!" and two men follow it, hot on its trail. They look big and scary and angry, not the type of faces Mikey would want to see on anyone chasing a little guy like that.

He's suddenly very worried and very curious.

April emerges a second later, carrying two cups of coffee and smiling reassuringly. She seems to notice the contemplative expression on Mikey's face, her expression faltering a little.

"Hey, Mikey, what's up?" she asks.

He blinks. "Some thing ran through," he explains. "Like, some really little dog guy. And these big dudes were chasing him looking evil, and shoving people and stuff."

April just looks confused at his explanation. "…Okay? It's probably their dog."

"They looked mean!" he argues. "And even if it is their dog, or cat, I dunno, can't we just—" he falters, flapping his hands, "—help out? I don't want it to get lost."

April shoves his coffee into his hands. Mikey glares at her.

"I'm trying to follow the rules," she says, pointedly, but she seems amused at his passion about the subject. "And you probably don't wanna go off chasing humans in the middle of the day."

"Right, uh-huh," Mikey says, looking back at the direction they ran off in.

There's a pause. April clears her throat. He doesn't look back at her.

"Mikey," April says. "Don't do it. They're gonna have my head if you do it."

He doesn't respond, already having made up his mind.

"Don't do it," April insists, hissing.

He drops his coffee to the sidewalk pointedly.

"Nuh-uh," he says, and tears off down the street without looking back.

"What do you mean nuh-uh— Mikey!" April shouts, and he can hear her running after him. "Oh my God, you just wasted like ten bucks— Raph's gonna kill me, get back here!"

So.

Magic.

Teleporting dog-cat things, two human guys actually being two not human guys, his nun-chucks being destroyed in one hand (were he not so focused on this whole situation, he'd hold a funeral), portals in the wall, a big hidden city underneath the already big city Mikey's used to… it's a lot. And it's very sudden.

He's so excited he could scream. April's winded and looks terrified, probably afraid of incuring the wrath of Mikey's kinda overprotective family, but she seems to share his enthusiasm about the whole thing.

Because how could he not be pumped about the whole thing? Despite the danger. It's only been like two hours since he left the lair, and now they're advancing up the steps into a big building where the dog thingy and some delivery guy (poor dude) had been taken by those evil guys in armor.

April shoves the big corridor open with her shoulder, and Mikey gasps at the impressive sight. Whoever owns the place has gotta be loaded, with how big and winding the halls are. It reminds him a little of the sewers, just with higher ceilings.

"I'm gonna go ahead and see if I can find anything," April says, only after a few minutes of walking. "You can just stay here, I'll get back to you in like— I dunno, a few minutes, probably."

"Aaaaapril," Mikey groans, 'cause like, c'mon. She's supposed to be the cool one who doesn't do stuff like this.

"Hey, listen!" she throws her hands up. "We don't know where we are, and I wanna be able to like, get to you in case something happens, and you can be the lookout. Think of it as like before, when we were getting coffee."

Mikey isn't happy with the explanation, but he sighs anyway. "Fine."

April gives him a big thumbs up, grinning wildly. "I won't let you out on any of the fun stuff, promise!"

"I get it!" he groans, waving her off. She laughs, sounding nervous, and Mikey's immediately less mad at her.

He watches her rush off, still a little testy and wound up, but more empathetic to her reasons. It's quiet without April there, significantly so.

The aesthetic feels similar to home if it was better-cleaned, all green and gray. The ceilings are high and the floors are near pristine, so much so that they must've been cleaned recently. He would be really enthusiastic about exploring, were they not on a potentially time-sensitive rescue mission (and he was soooo responsible, totally!).

He glances over at the direction where April had run off, listening for her footsteps. They've faded completely, so she's off somewhere else, where she couldn't hear him if he ran.

Mikey pretends to consider it, and decides immediately. Just a quick look around. She doesn't gotta know anything. It's not like he could stop her anyway, the past hour has well proven that.

He shoots one more glance to the hall, deems it safe, swivels in the opposite direction April went, and bolts.

He barely makes it twenty feet.

He turns a corner and almost immediately crashes into someone new, yelping and barely catching himself from falling over on his ass as he stumbles back. He loses his balance and drops to his knees, blinking away the fuzziness in his eyes as he looks up, confused, only to come face to face with—

Mikey's jaw drops.

A turtle.

He saw a lot of weird-looking people when he was advancing up into the building, but none of them looked quite like the guy currently in front of him, who seems completely unphased by the collision they'd just had.

He's visibly shorter than Raph, but taller than Mikey, with the same amount of bulk, although he's a little slimmer in the stomach and doesn't have Mikey's baby fat. He looks to be wearing scrapyard mechanic's clothing, based on what Mikey's seen from Jupiter Jim movies— a white tank-top, big pants with tools sticking out of pouches fixed to his belt, and thick, durable gloves. Red and blue glasses are perched on his long snout. The lip of a spotted shell—much smaller and thinner than Mikey's—pokes out from his shirt.

He's holding what looks like a long stick in his hand— it looks like the kind of staffs Mikey's seen in Lou Jitsu movies, usually reserved for sparring.

Mikey's so stunned he can't even speak. He just stares into his eyes, jaw dropped, his eyes wide.

The turtle in front of him twirls his staff in between diligent fingers, grabs it in both hands, and then reaches out and settles it on Mikey's head.

Before Mikey has the chance to question what he's doing, he lifts it and whacks him.

"Ow!"

"What is your problem?" the boy says flatly, his words barely inflected like questions. He bonks him on the head over and over again with every other word. "Am I so hideous that you would rather attempt an unflattering impression of a statue than say a simple hello?"

"Ah— ah, hey!"

"Because your disguise leaves a lot to be desired. This is a terribly thought out escapade. I believe I have the right to be insulted."

"Hey- hey, quit!"

"Did your father not teach you it was unpleasant to stare?" he continues like Mikey hadn't spoken. "Your manners could use some work. Could I have a word with your guardian?"

Mikey grabs his stick and jumps to his feet with a snarl. "QUIDDIT!"

"Okay."

He pulls his weapon out of Mikey's hands and backs up. His expression hasn't even twitched, still the same judgmental flatness that he'd displayed ever since he laid eyes on him. Mikey suddenly wants to punch him.

"What…" Mikey breathes hard, trying to get his thoughts together. "What are you?"

He shrugs. "Apalone spinifera."

"Who are you?"

"A person, theoretically."

"Are you like me?! Are we family?!"

"It's rude to racially profile."

"What are you doing here?!"

"I live here."

Mikey stammers on half-syllables, stunned by his brief, nonchalant responses. "Are you the guy who took the cat thingy?"

"No," he says, tilting his head, and then he asks, "what are you doing here? In my house."

"Man, I don't even know!" Mikey exclaims. "I've never been here before, I have no idea where I am!"

"No? That's fucked."

Mikey throws his hands up in frustration, grasping like the air like he's strangling it. The boy stares at him still, unaffected. Despite the lack of expression on his face, Mikey practically tastes the judgement.

"Mikey!" April calls, and he turns around to the sight of her rounding the corner, waving excitedly. "Guess who's got ten fingers and just found a wea—"

She stops in her tracks, skidding across the floor. Her eyes shift over to the other turtle. Her face seems to drop all at once in horror. "Oh, shit."

"Hello," he says, unaffected.

April blinks.

"Is he, uh," she looks to Mikey with a tilt of her head.

Mikey shrugs theatrically, because it's not like he knows. It's been a weird day.

"Are you gonna kill us?" April asks. "Hypothetically. Like if we were to take stuff from your weapons room. Or is it yours? I dunno if you're the only person that lives here, or—"

"No," the turtle says.

April stares at him for a long moment, scrutinizing, before she gives in with a sharp nod and turns to Mikey again. "Anyways, I found a room of weapons!"

"I'm sure he could assume that based on your question."

"Nobody asked you."

"Sorry."

"Ooh, I do need a replacement for my 'chucks," Mikey rolls his shoulders back before he runs to April's side, bouncing up and down. "Show me, show me!"

April waves him over down long corridors, and Mikey follows excitedly. He completely forgets about the guy that was with them as they step into a room with a high ceiling, shelves bulging out from the walls that are stacked with shiny, medieval looking weaponry. He can't help but gasp in excitement at the sight.

"Woah, whoever owns this place has gotta be loaded!" Mikey bolts through the room, twirling as he does to admire the scenery. He stops to admire a pair of nunchucks that looks a lot like his own, his tail wagging behind him. "Where did they get all this stuff?"

April grabs a bat from where it's propped up against a wall and twirls it, beaming brightly. "Dunno, but it's good for the rescue mission, right?"

"Woaaahhh," Mikey breathes again, even though he probably already got the point across by his gushing not three seconds ago. He tests the weight of the weapon in his hand, careful not to accidentally hit himself like last time.

"Why don't you take one of the glowing ones?"

The voice is right behind him. Mikey shrieks and falls flat on his back in his desperation to run away, awkwardly flipping over and having to contort his body to get himself to stand upright again from his position on the floor.

That guy is standing in front of him again.

"Why are you following us?!" Mikey complains.

"Where did you even come from…?" April comments under her breath.

He doesn't respond to either of their questions. He just tilts his head, turns slightly, and gestures at the glowing weapons docked on the wall. Mikey's attention shifts in an instant, the weird guy forgotten about, and he races over.

He grabs a kusari-fundō from the wall and tosses it from hand to hand, grinning bright. April walks over with her bat in her hands and gently takes a pair of tonfa propped up higher.

"You think Raph'll want these?" she asks.

"We'd have to tell him where we got them from," Mikey argues. "And like, how are we gonna explain this? He'll freak."

"He'd think it was cool, be serious."

"Not if he figures out you brought me here without him," Mikey knows he sounds a little petulant, but his feelings are justified, okay? "I know he trusts you, but…"

The side of April's mouth twitches in displeasure. "Yeah, I get'chu," she says, taking them anyway. "I'm not gonna tattle on you. I'll just say I got these from, like… a weapons store, or something. I don't think I'm allowed into those because I'm underage, but you know."

"Not like Raph would know," Mikey mumbles. Raph is always so weird about coming topside, even though he does it a lot more than he does, but he almost never enters buildings. Mikey's starting to think that he's the brave one, between the two of them.

He looks over at the other turtle, who's not watching them anymore. There's a contemplative expression on his face as he stares at the far wall. He looks like he's been lost in thought for a while.

"Hey," Mikey hears himself calling, curious about the sudden change in attitude. "What's your name?"

He hums. "Donatello," he says. "Donnie."

He doesn't really elaborate. The name immediately makes something in the back of Mikey's mind light up, but he doesn't really know how to put all the pieces together.

"Are you cool with us taking your stuff?" April asks.

"I don't really care," Donnie says.

April exchanges a glance with Mikey, and they silently settle on dropping the topic. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when they're on a whole rescue mission. They've got a cat-dog thingy to save, and an even bigger tower to traverse.

"Should we go stealth mode?" Mikey asks.

April's brows shoot up. "Dude, fuck stealth mode. Raph and your Dad ain't here."

Mikey grins, even though he knows it kind of makes him a horrible ninja. It's the most sensible thing she's said since they got here, and he's glad she's turning around. He loves April more than anyone else on the planet, and he's forgiven her for everything earlier forever, he decides.

They find where they're meant to be going eventually. It's not actually hard to miss, Mikey decides after a couple minutes of snooping around— there's a lot of floors and winding hallways, but a most of them lead to a gigantic corridor in the center of the building.

It's like… a huge, evil lab. They end up on higher level, stepping through a metal door and gasping in awe as they gaze down at the the room. There's a big tube in the middle that reaches all the way to the ceiling, surrounded by cages. On the north wall there's a gigantic circular window, casting vibrant indigo light down to the concrete floor, and when Mikey looks up, he sees the ceiling decorated by tangled labyrinths of wiring that make his head hurt.

He looks around and gasps sharply when he notices the dog thingy, trapped in one of the cages. April grabs him by the head and shoves him down, so they're both hunched and harder to see.

"Now's the best time to go stealth mode, dude!" she hisses. "We gotta see what's going on first. Raph'll kill me if you get hurt!"

"Sorry," Mikey grumbles. "The dog thingy, and like, the guy, the delivery guy—"

"I'm gonna jump in and rescue it," April's eyes sparkle. "Just you wait."

There's loud, echoing footsteps as someone approaches. They both fall silent, peering over at the lower floor nosily.

This big guy shambles in. He must be taller than Raph, even. He's wearing teal and gold armor, metal tusks sticking out of his helmet. Scarlet hair cascades down over his shoulders. There are two gargoyles perched on him, both snickering quietly.

A smaller shape follows him, one Mikey can't make out very well. The big man looks over his shoulder, mumbles at him to watch out for a name he can't make out, and the other guy grumbles and disappears in a flash of light.

Mikey watches as the man takes the vial attached to the dog thingy and squats over next to the delivery guy. He hears something about experiments, and it makes his skin prickle nervously.

The man rises to his feet. He uncorks the vial originally attached to the dog thingy's collar, and steps over to pour it into the huge tank at the center of the room. Electricity begins to spark, and Mikey's nervousness grows the longer he watches.

It looks like evildoer business, the kind of thing he'd see in a Jupiter Jim movie. He almost wants to hold April's hand for comfort, but he's not ten, he's thirteen. He swallows back his apprehension and locks it away, already bracing himself.

The liquid in the tank begins to coalesce and grow. Mikey squints, perking up at the sight of it dotted in bugs he'd just thought were part of the lighting, before. They look a little like a cross between fireflies and mosquitoes.

April immediately grabs him and pushes him back down. He glares at her, but her face is oddly grim. She looks as nervous as Mikey feels as they watch the man take one of the bugs out of the tank.

The man wraps the delivery guy in magic vines(???!!!!) and drags him up to eye level.

"Is this gonna hurt?"

"It will," the man responds, sounding amused. Oh yeah, totally evil, Mikey's decided. Maybe it was obvious by all the kidnapping he did earlier, but still. It's irrefutable now. "If I'm doing it right."

He watches in barely concealed horror (as well as a lot of awe and fascination) as the bug flutters forward and latches onto the delivery guy's head, and he begins to literally transform in shape. It looks grotesque as his lower body shrinks, his fingers elongate, his lower lip bulges and he begins to grow gills and fins.

"Oh, jeez, that is messed up," April hisses, white-knuckling her bat.

Mikey leans forward, watching raptly as the transformation ends, and the man starts gurgling and shouting, clutching his face. The big goat guy is turning to the dog thingy, speaking in a low, growling voice.

"Is he like—" Mikey leans forward, over the edge, trying to get a better look. "Some kinda fish, now?"

"Imitation crab, technically."

Mikey shouts in surprise, so caught off guard by Donnie's voice that he slips completely and topples over the ledge. The goat guy whirls around in shock as he eats shit on the concrete floor, sprawled out on the ground and groaning.

"Oh," he hears Donnie say, not sounding worried at all.

"Fuck it," April says, before screaming, "APRILLLLL O'NEIL!" and leaping into the fray, bat at the ready.

She platforms off Mikey's shell like she's playing a game of Mario—startling a squeaky toy noise from him, still face-planted on the floor—and lands on the cage containing the dog thingy, ripping at the vines with her teeth.

"April!" Mikey yelps, scrabbling as he tries to get up. "I'm not ready!"

Donnie lands on his feet next to him, taking Mikey's hand and helping him up effortlessly. He tears away the moment Mikey gets a good grip on the ground, like his touch repels him.

"Hey, thanks," Mikey says, and then processes what just happened. "Wuh—wait, don't scare me like that, you weirdo!"

"Okay," Donnie says.

"Three," the man sighs, catching their attention. April's grappling with his gargoyles behind him, but he just seems exasperated. "I thought I told you that you were meant to be training."

"I was on the way," Donnie kicks a rock on the floor, unbothered. His voice sounds weirdly innocent. "Leo didn't show up. I wanted to go find him. And I was distracted by the intruder. In our house."

"I didn't say anything about him—" the man stops in his tracks, voice fading as he seems to process Donnie's words. His eyes shift to him. Mikey lowers himself into a battle stance.

"You," he says, his voice taking on a whole different quality.

"Surrender the dog thingy and no-one gets hurt!" he shouts, bristling. "You may be making, um—" he looks to Donnie, who shrugs, "crab guys, I think—"

"I am as lost as you," Donnie says, before clarifying, "imitation crab."

"—imitation crab guys, but I think he ran off like a minute ago, and it's not like we're outnumbered!"

The weird look in his eyes fizzles out. He straightens. "Baron Draxum never surrenders," he hisses. "Donatello, capture the intruder. I will complete my work and handle the human."

He spits the word like it's a curse. Anger flares hot in Mikey's stomach. He looks to Donnie, brandishing his weapon and mentally bracing himself for a fight.

Donnie looks back at him. "No."

There's a beat of silence. April cries "IT'S OKAY, I'VE GOT THIS!" in the distance, kicking at punching at the gargoyles in the air. Mikey stares at Donnie, then back at Baron Draxum. (That's his name, right? Makes the most sense. He's hit his head too much today to be sure.)

"That's an order," Baron Draxum says. "Do we need to have this discussion again?"

"No," Donnie replies, staring at the ceiling. He looks bored.

"So fight him. You're combat trained."

"Okay."

Nothing.

"Oh for the love of—" Baron Draxum sighs, throwing a hand over his face. Then he shouts, "Leonardo!"

There's a flash of light. Donnie takes a step back. He sticks out his tongue and throws Mikey a peace sign, face still flat as ever, as he side-steps out of the way of a whole different turtle barrelling straight at him, blade drawn.

"WHAT THE— AHH—! OOF—"

The new weird guy cackles rancorously as he slams his whole body into Mikey, throwing them both to the floor.

"Hey— HEY- OW—!"

The two of them collapse into a heap of limbs, grappling on the floor, and Mikey finds himself shrieking the whole way down. He feels like a spooked baby goat, kicking at the taller, heavier turtle and squirming with no idea what else to do.

He gets his bearings just in time to dodge out of the way of the new guy—Leonardo, he'd been called—thrusts his blade forward into the floor, right where his face had just been. He kicks him hard to knock him off, rolling across the ground and stumbling to his feet as he rapidly backs away.

It allows him to get a good look at the guy. Mikey thinks he's taller than Donnie, but not by much. He's wearing an aviator jacket with sleeves so long they halfway cover his scarred fingers. His face looks bruised and bandaged up. Two blood-red crescent markings slash down his face and through his eyes. His pupils are in slits, his tail long and lashing and tipped with gold.

If Donnie's off-putting in his placidity, then this Leonardo feels like the exact opposite—his eyes are sharp and his grin is large and brilliant, and it hasn't seemed to shift. He stares right at Mikey, maniacally excited by the prospect of a fight. It makes an uncomfortable shiver crawl down his spine.

"Aww, man!" Leo looks strangely pouty as he hefts himself up, using his sword as leverage. He grins, his eyes scrunching, baring uncannily sharp fangs at him. "Come back, little guy! What's a little friendly stabbing between long lost family?"

"I don't know you!" Mikey yells, grabbing his newly acquired kusari-fundō from the floor and brandishing it, trying to be as threatening as he possibly can. "We're not family just 'cause we're turtles, the, uh—" he shoots a desperate glance at Donnie, who isn't even looking at them, "the other guy said—!"

Leo laughs, like what he just said was funny somehow, stalking forward. Mikey grits his teeth, taking a few more steps back. He's about to attack, only for the other turtle to leap forward and disappear halfway in the air in a blinding flash of blue light.

Mikey twirls around, confused, just as he appears behind him and kicks him squarely in the chest. He slams to the floor and rolls out of the way of another attempted stabbing.

"You can DO that?! Does every weird magic thing teleport here?!"

"You can't?!" Leo laughs, which is all he seems to be able to do. His tail lashes behind him like an angry cat's. "You should be able to do that!"

"I don't think that's—" Mikey has to duck away from another swing of his sword, harmlessly grazing his face. He nearly knocks into Donnie, who easily steps away and doesn't even acknowledge him landing flat on his ass right behind him.

One cursory glance and it looks like he's watching April, high in the sky as she grapples with the gargoyles. Baron Draxum is following them around, shouting at them to drop her so they can truly fight. The sight would be comical, if he wasn't currently fighting for his life.

He leaps to his feet right as Leo advances on him, falling to his knees to avoid a swipe of his sword and skidding across the ground. He undocks his kusari-fundō and throws it forward with a flick of his twist, the chain wrapping around the blade in Leo's hands. Mikey widens his stance and wrenches it back towards him, dragging it across the stone floor.

Leo's knife-sharp grin falters, just for a second. Mikey feels inexplicably proud of causing it.

"Fair's fair," Leo says, suddenly excited. "Let's settle this like animals!"

He disappears in another flash of light. Mikey's already turning around, because he knows this trick, only for Leo to appear right above him.

He slams into him from above, grabbing the weapon from Mikey's hands with his teeth, and subdues him with an impressive contortion of his body (that reminds Mikey a little of the wrestling movies he saw Raph watching on TV) to get the space to throw his weapon across the floor, leaving him unarmed.

"Let go of me!" Mikey shouts, slamming his palm into Leo's face in an attempt to pry him off.

"You don't get a weapon, I don't get a weapon!" Leo shouts back, muffled under Mikey's hand. "What happened to decorum?!"

"This is— I don't think trying to pin me to the floor is decorum—! Get off or I'll— DID YOU JUST LICK ME?!"

Leo giggles, and Mikey suddenly decides he wants this guy dead. He tears his hand away and brings it to his throat, using the momentum to shove him forward and pin him on the floor.

Leo easily kicks him off, and the two finally go grappling on the floor again, tearing at each other with their claws and fruitlessly punching at each other in a flurry of limbs.

This goes until Mikey tries to grab his wrist to throw him off, and Leo lurches forward like an agitated rattlesnake and sinks his teeth into his arm, biting hard until he breaks the skin.

"AH!" Mikey howls, calmly. "HE BIT ME!"

"APRILLLLLLLL—" he turns around right as April enters the fray, throwing a cackling Leo off him to scuttle away from the scene frantically.

Leo stands up, looking disappointed at the lack of action, only for April to tackle him at full-speed. "O'NEEEEIIIIILLLLL!!!!"

They go flying in a tangle of limbs. The other turtle is practically howling with laughter. The gargoyles she'd been grappling with tumble to the floor, both looking beat up and exhausted.

Mikey's panting, winded himself. The bite on his forearm throbs, and he suddenly wonders how he's going to explain it to Raph. Maybe it's the world giving him a sign to finally start wrapping his arms like his big brother does.

"Mikey!" April shouts, locked in battle with the weirdo. "I got the teleporter thingy those big guys had!"

"I gave it to you," Donnie says, the first he's spoken since the fight started. "Politely."

"Let me—" April shrieks as Leo swings at her, and she hits him square in the face hard with her bat. He drops to the floor like a stone, still laughing on the way down. "—HAVE THIS!"

"Doooonnieee!" Leo calls from the floor, rolling around as April repeatedly tries to hit him like she's playing whack-a-mole. "Little help over here?!"

"And dirty my brand new yoga pants?" Donnie says impassively, not even looking over. "Brother you can die."

Mikey sighs in relief as he picks up his kusari-fundō from the floor, happy that April seems accounted for. He's about to run straight for the dog thingy, only to jump like five feet in the air when someone clears their throat behind him.

He whips around, only to realize he's standing in Baron Draxum's shadow. The man has his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed.

"Turtle," he says, flatly.

"Oh yeah!" Mikey exclaims. "Uh oh!"

Baron Draxum widens his stance and grabs seeds from his pouch, throwing them to the floor. Mikey yelps and dodges as they form into vines, rushing backwards and throwing his kusari-fundō out to cleave them in two as they converge on him.

He uses one to platform as it throws him up, leaping into the air and wrapping his chain around Draxum's throwing arm. He wrenches him forward, nearly knocking him to the floor, before finds his footing turns and throws Mikey back.

He hits the ground, stumbling back before his balance gives way, and he tumbles to the floor. He rolls over to avoid being grabbed by vines, and wraps his weapon around one to heave himself up. Baron Draxum is watching him carefully, looking pleasantly surprised.

"You're doing well against such a large opponent," he comments. "I'm almost impressed."

Mikey grits his teeth, emboldened by the compliment. He guesses that the average person who sees him wouldn't know he spars Raph pretty much every other day.

(For practicing self-defense skills, in case anything happens— that was always his big brother's excuse. Mikey guesses Raph never expected those skills to come into practice to beat up a big goat man in the middle of a giant evil lab to stop the creation of imitation crab men, unless there was something Dad wasn't telling Mikey specifically.)

Determination builds and coalesces in his chest until he's grinning, wild, and before he can think to pace himself he's flicking his wrist and throwing out his weapon. Baron Draxum darts to the side, narrowly avoiding it.

It stops in place somewhere behind his intended opponent, buzzes, shakes, and then explodes into fire. He can hear the fundo laughing.

For a moment, he's too dazzled to even speak. "Woah— let's go! Magic wea—"

The weapon suddenly moves of its own accord, and Mikey shrieks at the top of his lungs as he's yanked along for the ride, richocheting across the walls and sending him flying along with it.

"Oh my God!" he can hear Leo cackle, like it's the funniest thing ever. "Do you not even know how to use it, you fucking lo—"

There's a yelp as April presumably hits him. Mikey shrieks the whole way as he slams into the ooze tank, flies across the ceiling, and the flame at the tip of his weapon throws him back down to the ground. Baron Draxum leaps to the side to avoid him making impact.

Mikey rolls across the floor, tangling himself in his own chains until he's face-first on the stone.

He's sweating bullets as he slowly looks up at Baron Draxum, trying to put on his best brave face despite the situation. It probably pales in comparison to Raph's, who he's trying to imitate, but it does cause something in the big dude's face to shift.

"Four," he says, nonsensically, "why are you attempting to ruin my life's work? We are in this together."

"Kidnapping dogs is wrong, you villain!" Mikey spits back, trying to make his voice sound lower and more intimidating. "Also, uh— turning people into crabs! Imitation crabs! That's bad!"

"I am doing this to protect our kind," he says, hunching over. "The human threat has driven us underground, and I am without an army. You can join me right now, and we can eliminate the human threat together. You, and me, and my strongest warriors, your kin!"

Mikey looks over at Leo, starfished face-down on the floor like while April repeatedly whacks him with her bat like she's trying to make sure he stays down, and Donnie, watching the whole scene with a bored expression, and decides to say, simply; "You crazy."

Baron Draxum's nostrils flare—at least, Mikey thinks they do, considering the sound he makes. He can't really see past the mask. But he straightens his posture, his eyes flickering with barely concealed fury, and he says, "fine. If you are unable to concede to my plans, then I have no use for you."

He takes a step forward, already taking seeds out of his pouch. Mikey cowers with a growl, frantically trying to get himself unloose from his own stupid magic weapon—

Only for April's bat to go flying across the room, hitting Draxum in the helmet square in the face with an echoing DONG. His mask rattles and he falls backwards, flat on his back.

Mikey turns over to April and Leo, both upright and watching the scene.

Leo's grin turns guilty and sheepish. "Eheh…"

He has to duck as the bat flies over him again, ricocheting around the room. It hits a wall, one of the pillars, the floor, a pillar again, and flies right towards Donnie. He smoothly steps out of the way, only for it to slam into the big tube at the center of the room.

It immediately begins to spark. An alarm starts going off in the distance.

"Okay," Leo says, surprisingly calm. "So, y'know, before anyone gets mad at me— I'm just gonna say it, maybe don't keep the whole important bug container in projectile bat range?"

Donnie pulls his glasses down. "It's going to explode," he deadpans.

"Mikey!" April calls. "C'mon, we gotta go!"

Mikey runs over to her, grabbing her hand when she reaches out. He lets himself be dragged along, half way to the exit before a BOOM rocks the chamber, and the two of them are thrown to the wall with a shockwave.

April shouts in surprise. Mikey hits his shell hard and instinctively ducks inside, before poking his head out to see pieces of the ceiling dislodging and falling to the floor.

"Oh shit," Leo shouts, panic flickering on his features, "Donnie!"

Donnie whirls around just as he knocks into him, tucking him under his chin and hunching over him protectively. Draxum rushes into the fray to grab the both of them, already throwing seeds to the floor, just as Mikey's vision of the scene is obscured by the falling debris.

There's a pop, before the dog thingy teleports into April's lap, chirping curiously and pawing at her leg.

"Oh, thank God," April breathes. "Hey boy, can you get us outta here?"

It chitters, sounding relieved, and Mikey's stomach swoops as his vision blacks out, just for a moment. He feels nauseous as he blinks away the haze in his eyes, looking up to see Baron Draxum's house in the distance, loudly crumbling.

"Okay," April says, clumsily fumbling with the dial she'd gotten from Donnie as she tries to find a good grip on it.

Mikey doesn't even think before he snatches it from her hands, ignoring her protesting hey! He hurriedly draws the symbol he'd seen the mercenaries use into the wall beside them, hooting in excitement when it obligingly lights up and opens a new portal.

He grabs April's hand and leaps into it. The two of them shout with excitement as they fall right through, laughing rancorously until it spits them back out in New York.

Mikey tumbles to the ground, rolling across the concrete. The dial falls out of his hands and breaks into pieces, but he's too winded to mourn the loss, lifting himself up to sit on his knees. He's breathing hard, and he knows he's grinning like a madman but he's too relieved to care.

April sits up next to him. They lock gazes, mutually sharing relief and a little bit of excitement. Mikey already has so many questions that he knows April is unable to answer.

She stands first, and helps Mikey up. The dog teleports into her arms, and she exclaims, "thank you!" and hugs it tight, grinning at its responding chirp.

"At least the rescue mission went well," Mikey ends up saying, because he has no idea where to even start. He briefly grimaces at the several bite marks littered across her arms, electing not to say anything about it.

"Yeah," April replies, "and no—"

She stops as one of those weird bugs fly past, fluttering towards the sky. Mikey tracks it until it disappears into the distance.

"—complications," she says. "Um."

The construction site explodes as what looks like hundreds of them fly out of the still-opened portal, blurring into a bright purple and green mass as they converge on the city.

Mikey cowers, watching the whole scene with wide, horrified eyes. He slowly looks to April, who's mirroring his expression almost exactly.

They stare at each other.

"Raph can never know about this," he says.

April's voice is uncharacteristically weak. "Agreed."

Chapter Text

The sun is starting to fall when they decide to split ways. April takes the dial and the dog (lame and unfair) who she's named Mayhem. Honestly, the little guy's super cute, and Mikey's already decided he was worth having a near death experience for.

April walks him to the nearest sewer grate before she leaves, just to make sure he makes it and doesn't run off to do anything stupid. Mikey thinks it's a little unfair, because April's practically the queen of stuff like that, but he supposes she's just making up for getting him beat up by that weird guy an hour ago. He accepts her hug and kiss on the forehead like a gentleman, because he loves her.

There's a jitter in his hands as he walks home. He just can't stop thinking about what happened, and he has so many questions he wants to ask, with no one to direct them towards.

He does end up wondering on the way home, inexplicably, if Dad knows something. He saw a lot of people who looked just like them on the way up to Baron Draxum's house, and something about Donnie and Leo…

There's a niggling feeling in his brain. Scattered pieces he feels like he should be able to put together, but all of the vertigo makes it feel impossible. That and the fact that he hit his head really hard, like, four times. And he got hit on the head by Donnie's big stick. He's still a little mad about it.

The lair is as humid as ever, as it usually is in the summertime. It's not really like they have access to a good AC (making winters really inconvenient, he's had to brumate a few times). Just by point of comparison, he notices how dirty it looks compared to Baron Draxum's place. Raph's pretty devoted to spring cleaning, but usually that means they clean once a year only. He's pretty convinced that's how the rule goes.

Mikey sighs. It's a mess, but it's home. He feels something in him relax at the familiarity, and he almost falls over in relief. He pushes forward to make sure he's put his new awesome weapon in his room before he goes to find Raph, though. He can't really come up with a good excuse for having that.

He washes his face free of all the grime, takes his hoodie off, takes a couple deep breaths, and then finally gives up on stalling.

He finds Raph in the kitchen, checking their supplies. He does that, like, three times a day. It's usually Mikey's first guess when he has to go out of his way to look for him, and he's usually right.

His face is as conflicted and grim as it always is, and it doesn't shift when he perks up at the sound of Mikey's footsteps.

"Raph?" Mikey calls, inexplicably nervous.

"Where were you?" Raph demands in lieu of a response.

"Getting coffee," Mikey fires back, trying his best to look innocent. "Like I said." Duh. Please believe me.

Raph's eyes narrow in disbelief. "You were gone for hours. You said it was gonna be thirty minutes. Buddy, what kinda coffee—"

Mikey throws his head back and groans. "Raaaaphieeee," he complains. "Pleaaaase just trust me. You know April wouldn't let me get into any trouble, and stuff, right?"

Raph's jaw ticks, but he doesn't cut him off.

"Exactly!" Mikey's proud of himself, despite kinda throwing April under the bus. Normally his argument would more heavily involve the merit of his mad squillz, but he's already testing his luck by disappearing for so long anyway.

He watches Raph step forward. He puts a hand on his shoulder, gazing down at him carefully. It's an uncomfortably parental look, one that he hates seeing on Raph. That's not his big brother, it feels like it comes from an imposter wearing his skin.

"A'course I trust April," Raph begins, "and I trust you, I mean, you're just— with everything, you know—" he pauses, shuffling awkwardly in his spot. The tip of his long, spiked tail thumps repeatedly against the floor. "Raph's just worried."

"Believe me," Mikey insists, realizing he sounds kinda stupid the moment it comes out of his mouth. Raph's eyes narrow, and he takes a deep, deep breath.

"Pop was worried sick," Raph tries.

Mikey knows that lie. "No he wasn't."

Raph sighs. "No he wasn't," he agrees, amusement flickering on his face before being smothered with frustration. He draws back. "But you should still check up with him. He wanted to know where you went off to."

Mikey stares at Raph for a long, long moment, and then he grabs the hand on his shoulder and pushes him off. Raph obligingly steps back. His eyes are big and sad, and he looks a little betrayed, but he doesn't say anything.

"Are you gonna ground me?" Mikey grumbles, crossing his arms.

"Buddy, we've talked about this, Raph doesn't ground you, he just—" there's a growl of frustration. "No. But I think we're gonna be more careful about you goin' out during the daytime."

Mikey gasps indignantly. "What?! But I got back just fine!"

"You could'a been killed!" Raph snaps back. "Or— or, I dunno, taken by an evil government agency or somethin'! I can't sit here at home thinkin' something happened to you for hours, Mike, I just—"

"April wouldn't let that happen! And I can defend myself!"

"Not against guys with guns—"

Mikey shouts in frustration. If he had hair to tear out, he would've made himself bald by now. "You go out all the time!"

"I'm a lot bigger than you!" Raph retorts, bristling. "Listen, Raph's— he's not sayin'— you can still go out, all I'm askin' for is for you to update me more. That's all I want. Okay?"

Mikey scrutinizes him carefully. "Like— what do you mean?"

"If you get caught up in somethin'," Raph elaborates, "you gotta tell me. I texted you like six times."

"Oh." Mikey had had his phone on silent. Suddenly he feels a little dumb, even though he's still mad, just on principle. Raph's being so paranoid it makes him want to explode. "Fine. Okay."

Raph sighs in relief. "And you'll tell me where you are."

"I would never lie to you," Mikey lies. "I really was just goin' to get coffee."

"In general," Raph says. "'Cause if you don't get back to me, Raph's gotta know where you are. Listen, it's— not a tall order. I ain't gonna restrict you as long as you're careful."

That's definitely a lie. Mikey concedes only to stop this topic of conversation before it turns into another argument. "Fine."

Raph sighs in relief. He seemingly doesn't know what to say, and to be honest, Mikey kinda doesn't either. They just stand there awkwardly, shuffling in place.

For reasons he can't put into words, Mikey almost wants to apologize.

Raph's eyes drift to the bite mark on Mikey's arm, and soften in the way they always do when he's gonna say something coddling. Mikey grits his teeth against the immediate wave of new frustration.

"Hey, big guy," Raph ventures, "what happened, with, er—"

"I got bit by a cat," Mikey lies way too quickly. "He was like, really evil and feral. I think he had rabies and I'm gonna die."

Raph blinks.

"April adopted him though," sorry Mayhem, "so if she dies too, that's why. The cat, I mean. The cat that we met. So yeah."

"Okay," Raph says.

"Yep," Mikey agrees, nodding sagely.

If he ever meets that Leo guy ever again, he's gonna beat him up.

"I'm gonna go talk to Pops," Mikey says, desperate to just get out of here before it turns into another little argument. "Y'know, about. Stuff. Tell him what's going on and all that. Make sure he didn't die."

"Yeah," Raph seems sad.

Mikey nods, turns on his tail, and rushes out of the room way too fast to be reasonable.

His head hurts.

Mikey knows he's irrational in his anger, and that his opinions are relatively biased when he feels he's been treated unfairly; but still, if anyone were to ask him for the truth, truly ask, he would answer honestly.

Raph was not always like this.

A lot of his memories from earlier in his life are a little foggy, but still. The Raph he knows from when they were real little was so much different. He was upbeat, impulsive, free-spirited, supportive. He was endlessly curious about the world, always the one to run ahead and check under the bed for monsters and wrestle with him and play sports. He was Mikey's best friend.

But then he grew, Mikey remembers that. Raph grew, and with it he grew scared. All of a sudden Mikey was looking up at his big brother, and his big brother was looking down on him. Now every step he takes has to be a desperate plea for the independence Raph had wanted him to have, and to be anything like the Raph he remembers, because that's the kind of person Mikey wants to be.

(He's scared of being scared, like Raph is. He hopes with his whole heart that that's not what growing up actually is.)

He feels kind of guilty for thinking and feeling it, 'cause of course he loves the big guy more than anything, but sometimes he comes out of arguments with Raph thinking, I miss you. I miss when you used to listen to me. Seeing the look in Raph's eyes, he's pretty convinced he feels the same way, but still...

It doesn't feel very good to look at the distance that's formed between them and reflect upon the simmering resentment, especially knowing that he was the one to draw away.

(…He just doesn't wanna be scared.)

Dad's where he always is, doing what he always does. Sitting on his armchair, watching his old commercials on his projector. He tends to cycle between the same few things, a wistful look on his face.

Mikey wonders when his family got so predictable and depressing, because jeez.

Dad notices him hovering there after a few moments, and a bright grin splits on his face, like it always does. He pats the arm of his armchair, and Mikey obligingly races over and hops up to sit next to him.

While things are really weird and complicated with Raph, Mikey loves Dad. He's a little more distant now that they can do stock themselves, and he's got a whole mysterious backstory he hasn't really told them about, but he still trains them and helps Mikey cook and checks up on them after bad arguments. He's always the one telling Raph to go easier on him, convinced that Mikey's strong enough on his own.

Honestly, Mikey doesn't know what he'd do without Dad. The idea of it just being him and Raph sounds agonizing. It's a breath of fresh air to sit there with him, because he never really feels pressured to act like a grown up just to be listened to.

"It's good to see you, Orange," Dad says, still staring at the screen. "I was worried sick about you."

"No you weren't," Mikey mumbles, reflexively.

"No I was not," Dad sounds amused as he reaches up to give him a noogie, and Mikey giggles and pushes at his arm. "You are a strong boy on your own, and April is reliable. She had you handled, yes?"

Nooooo. "Yep!"

Dad gives him a knowing smile. Mikey looks away and whistles to himself, trying to look innocent, relieved when he doesn't push.

"I'm sure you've already talked to Red about it."

"Yeah," Mikey sighs, rocking himself a little to stim. "We yelled a little. I'm kinda mad."

"As usual," Dad sighs. "I would talk to him, but as you are aware—"

"I know, he's just worried, I know," Mikey's not interested in hearing any excuses. He cracks his knuckles. "I'll organize a Doctor Feelings session if it gets bad enough. He'll see what happens if he keeps testing me."

Dad grimaces, because he's been on the end of those, and he's learned his lesson about bothering Mikey enough to cause them. He doesn't do anything except for nod, his attention drifting back to the projector, and Mikey sits there and tries to remember what he came here for.

Right, he was wondering about… Baron Draxum. Those two other turtle people he met. All of the things he'd said and heard.

The thing is, the more he thinks about it, the more obvious it seems that like… Dad has to know about the whole Hidden City thing, or he has to come from one, because unless he wasn't a rat at some point, there's no way he was completely alone his whole life. He's always been really cagey about his mysterious backstory, but he's talked about people before. Friends he used to have. Like, a lot of them.

And Baron Draxum had turned some human guy into a fish.

Mikey stops to think. The pieces are starting to come together.

Baron Draxum had called him Four, and Donnie Three. Leonardo's a name that anyone can have, if he remembers correctly, but Donatello is so particular…

What's a little friendly stabbing between long lost family?

You can join me right now, and we can eliminate the human threat together. You, and me, and my strongest warriors, your kin!

Mikey straightens. "Hey, Pop?"

"Hmm?"

"Are we really the only ones of our kind?"

Dad pauses, in a way he rarely does. The look on his face is pretty similar to the kind he makes when he talks about the stuff that really upsets him. It's usually never directed at Mikey at all. He only sees it when he's peeping on his conversations with Raph.

He doesn't plan on retracting the question, but the expression sends a shiver down his shell.

"What do you mean, Orange?" Dad asks.

"Like—" he pauses. "How are we— I know you don't like it when we ask about this kinda stuff, but how were we born? Was it like… a freak accident?"

Dad's chest heaves, and his face screws up like he's remembering something super unpleasant and terrible. Mikey suddenly wonders if he's just been avoiding the topic because it hurts to think about.

"There are… people like us," he says. "And you were not… made on accident, the history is— it is quite complicated. I assume that would be obvious through us not sharing the same species, but it has never come up…"

"Are we not related?" Mikey's voice wavers.

"No, we are," Dad doesn't elaborate on that, but Mikey chooses to trust him. "The four of you, well, originally, it is quite the long story, but—"

"Four?" Mikey asks.

Dad doesn't respond. He grits his teeth and looks visibly upset with himself, and that's it, that's the moment where the pieces click together, and now it all feels obvious. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe there was a chance that those guys could be mistaking him for something else, and Donnie had talked about it like other turtle people existed, but… it's too specific.

"It is hard to— think about," Dad says. "But there were… two others, I had… lost them, in a fire. I had no other choice than to leave them behind, to protect you and Raphael's lives."

"Oh," Mikey says. "Sorry."

"No, you have the right to know," Dad waves a hand. "I think a lot about… how Donatello and Leonardo could have been, had I just been a little faster, but…"

He seems to be getting choked up, his snout curling in the effort to hold back tears. Mikey shoves aside the shock at the names to finally backtrack, having gotten the information he was looking for, because he hates seeing his Dad upset like this. It's happened before and it always sucks.

"Sorry," Mikey says again. "You don't gotta tell me about it, I-I just wanted to know. It's probably not your fault."

"If I blamed myself for it, it would have killed me," Dad replies, sadly. "I am so grateful to have you two in my lives, and— I had to put it behind me, to raise you. I had not realized it was something I should be keeping from you, it's…"

He stops to take a deep breath. Mikey waits for his breath to even out before he speaks again, feeling more patient than he ever has in his life. He'll take anything Dad says right now, even though he knows better than to push.

"It's cool," Mikey lies, swallowing down the hurt and frustration. He wishes he knew about all of this earlier, but he guesses it's kind of a loaded topic for Dad. Thinking you killed two of your kids has gotta be hard, that feels like a given. "I'm not mad." Would Raph be?

"I was waiting until you were both older to breach the topic," Dad continues, slowly, "and, truthfully, holding it off. Although I suppose you are old enough to hear about it, now."

"Finally someone gets it," Mikey replies. "I'm practically a grown-up!"

Dad laughs, blinking away the budding tears. He loops an arm around Mikey's shoulders to pull him in and noogie him again, and Mikey shrieks with laughter, hitting at him halfheartedly. "Stoooop!"

"You are sooo grown," Dad sounds like he's making fun of him. "My big big strong boy."

"Stop it!" Mikey shoves himself away, nearly toppling over the arm of the chair. He barely catches himself from hitting his head again. "I really mean it! I'm thirteen, not three!"

"Of course," Dad chuckles, drawing away. He's smiling warmly. "If there is anything else you need, Orange…"

Mikey takes that as a cue to drop the topic, just grateful Dad isn't pushing for his reasons. "It's all I wanted to know about, I guess," he says with a shrug. "Can I just chill and watch TV with you?"

"Finally, taking an interest in my commercials," Dad says, fiddling with the remote. "Raphael has never had the patience, nor the good grace."

Mikey laughs along, even though he's got a pretty good idea why Raph would find it annoying. "I dunno, I'm curious." And it's good background noise while I think. "Only for a couple minutes, though."

Dad hums, and turns the projector back on, reclining back against the chair. Mikey stays sat on the arm, pretending to watch raptly.

His mind is racing.

He has other brothers. It's really hard to suddenly wrap his head around. He's always felt like the family dynamic was incomplete somehow, but he's always assumed that was just because of his mounting frustration with Raph, or the fact that they didn't have a mom, which all the movies were crazy about.

He finds himself thinking about Baron Draxum in particular. He definitely wants to know about him, but considering the attempted murder and dog kidnapping and general villainy, he's not sure it's a good idea. But he can't leave it all behind. He's at least gotta build a case file before he talks to Raph about it, come up with a good lie, or he's never gonna hear the end of it.

If he went back… could he talk to Donnie again? Maybe not Leo because he already hates that guy, but Donnie… would he listen? Would he want to talk? He didn't seem to know, but—

He realizes he's stopped breathing. He takes a big gulp of air, trying to put his racing mind to rest.

Those are my brothers. Mikey's hands curl into fists against his legs. Dad has zoned out again, his eyes on the projector. That's my family, they're— I have to go find them. I have to—

He stops to take a deep breath, his gaze drifting over to the DO NOT TOUCH cabinet from across the room. His eyes have grazed it many times before, but he's never really stopped to look at it like he is right now. It's always blended into the scenery.

In the center of the middle cabinet, there's a small compass, propped up and reflecting the light of the projector. It looks nearly identical to the device April had taken home from the mercenaries.

Mikey stares at it for a long, long time.

Something in his brain lights up. He eases himself off the armchair and moves very, very carefully.

Chapter Text

It takes a while for the rubble to stop falling. Donnie can feel Leo's chest heaving underneath his face. His breath takes quite a while to slow as the dust begins to clear, and Draxum throws the debris covering them to the floor with his vines.

The lab is free of any angry magic turtle boys or tenacious humans when they resurface. Agent 64 is also, predictably, missing. There's been several Tom and Jerry-esque chases with him over the years, and he always gets away. Donnie isn't fully clued in to what's going on, but he's not sure why Draxum thought it'd be any different this time.

The lab is also very destroyed.

Draxum exhales a long, angry sigh. Donnie's not the most attentive, but he thinks he might be mad. He's just guessing though.

"Two," he says, catching Leo's attention. "We need to talk."

"You could be a little less obvious by not using the numbers, old man," Leo spits back, his usual grin fixed on his face, as he disengages from Donnie and bounces after him.

He throws him a reassuring wink as he leaves, and Donnie just watches him go. Nothing necessary to say.

They quickly step out of earshot. He can only catch little fragments of sentences as their voices lower and raise.

"—don't know what you're mad about, he should've—"

"—one task, Leonardo, I had one—"

"—over it, the bugs got out so why does it matter—?"

"—your responsibility, you are so stubborn—"

A small hand tugs at his pant leg, and Donnie looks down at Huginn, slightly curled up on the floor. His wing looks unnaturally bent, and he's covered in bruises and welts. Something in his chest squirms uncomfortably.

"Oh," he says, flatly.

"Heya, mini-boss," Huginn croaks. "Sorry we couldn't handle the girl, she was just—"

"I don't care," Donnie talks over him, bending over to lift him up. He finds Muninn sprawled out on the ground, covered in rubble, and kneels to grab him gingerly. "It makes sense that you would lose to a human. Considering you are small. And she was less small."

"You don't need to rub it in," Huginn says, sounding amused. "Or give us the deluxe treatment. Y'know, we're made of tough stuff, the boss throws us around all the time. Just… maybe the doggy bed?"

"That is your doggy bed," Donnie says knowingly. "Or Leo's. If I'm mad at him. He sleeps on the doggy bed."

Huginn chokes out a laugh. Donnie isn't sure what he thinks is so funny, but he assumes it's a good thing if he's laughing.

"I'll fix your wing," Donnie continues. "And page S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N to handle repairs."

"Ooh, look at you, you're productive today," Huginn teases.

Donnie hums affirmingly. He's about to leave the lab to bring them to the living room, only for Leo to teleport right in front of his face with a large grin.

He's so used to it he doesn't even step back. Huginn yelps and tries to hide in the fold of his arms, which is more reasonable.

"Hello," Donnie says.

"Doooonie," Leo calls, even though he's close to his face. "Where're you going, huh? You're leaving? Why are you leaving? Don't you wanna hang out? Y'know, like pals?"

"Hmmmmmm," Donnie replies, unmoving as a statue.

"C'mooon, don't leave me with the old man," Leo insists. "Don't you care about how lonely and sad I am?"

"No."

Leo cackles like a hyena. He bounds forward and squishes him in another hug. Huginn yelps as he's trapped between their plastrons, sounding like he's being crushed. Donnie feels a little bad.

"Leonardo!" Draxum calls. "You're responsible for the mess, and you're cleaning it up!"

"The whole thing?!" Leo cries, pulling away. Donnie turns to watch him as he storms back over. "C'moon, the bat was only fifty percent my fault, you evil, evil man!"

"I was going to page S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N," Donnie comments.

Leo pauses in place. Draxum makes some kind of withdrawn grimacing face that Donnie can't read.

"Never mind, just give me some kinda magic broom," Leo says. "I'd literally rather do that than deal with that guy."

"He's like that because of you," Donnie reminds him. "Man up and pay your child support."

"He's annoying and dumb and stupid!"

"You programmed him to be like you."

"Why don't you just destroy him already?!" Leo argues, a non-sequitur. Typical Leo behavior. Ha-ha. That's him laughing.

"He's my friend," Donnie replies, stroking Huginn's head like he's a cat.

Leo's face doesn't change from his usual smile, but his eye does this twitch that he always does when he gets weird and jealous. He made that face before trying to set Muninn on fire, once, when they were eight.

"Whatever," Leo grinds out. "Does this mean I'm out of cleaning?"

"No," Draxum sighs. "At least help me with the debris. I'm sure Donatello's… friend, will be a lot of help, but I would prefer real hands."

"Rude," Donnie says. "S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N has feelings, you know."

"They're really hurtable," Huginn agrees, the first thing he's said since Leo started bothering them. Mostly due to being deathly afraid of him.

"And I love hurting them," Leo retorts. "Just go do, uh— I dunno, whatever it is you do, and then come back and help me out here."

"He didn't destroy the lab," Draxum's words are pointed and venomous. He's definitely mad about something.

"I didn't destroy the lab," Donnie echoes in agreement. He likes pointless busywork, but fair's fair.

"For moral support! God damn!" Leo kicks at a piece of rubble, looking mad for some reason.

"Okay," Donnie says, already half way out the door. "That's fair. I'll be back."

Leo and Draxum start talking again as he exits, and their voices are still as tense as they were before. Donnie absentmindedly wonders what they're on about. He kind of hates it when they do things behind his back, even though they never listen to him when he tries to express that to them.

Well, he supposes it doesn't matter when he can snoop. Such is the curse of being the baby of the family.

Donnie's known Huginn and Muninn his whole life. They're practically second parents to him, or perhaps more equivalent to overworked babysitters. He has a lot of very clear memories of playing elaborate pranks on them when him and Leo were kids, usually to the point where Draxum couldn't trust them home alone with them.

Although he feels bad about putting them in elaborate death traps, going to meetings with their father is how they ended up meeting Auntie, which is the diamond in the rough of that whole retrospectively embarrassing situation.

But still, the point is, he knows they're going to notice when he's acting off. They keep exchanging weird glances and looking at him funny as he patches them up. It's pretty much the first thing Muninn does when he finally wakes up, actually.

"Hey, kid," Muninn ventures, after a few minutes of stalling. "Not gonna pretend like we always get ya, but—"

"—you're a little quieter than usual," Huginn finishes.

"Yeah, that's what I was gonna say! We are so in sync."

"I'm fine," Donnie replies, wrapping Huginn's small wing. It looks broken. "You should avoid flying for a few weeks. I suggest three."

"Not even a little flying?" Muninn sounds sad. "Bummer."

"Focus!" Huginn exclaims, snapping his fingers. "C'mon, is there anything you need to talk about? I know your brother's weird—"

"I can talk to Leo," Donnie speaks over him, not planning to elaborate.

"So are you gonna?"

He doesn't respond.

"Yeah, and gargoyles are hired to do more than guarding, y'know? We provide emotional support, too!" Huginn continues. He pauses before he elbows Muninn, who perks up and nods quickly.

"Totally. We got training and everything. I think."

"We totally did. You just don't remember because it was like, thirteen years ago."

"Yeah! Uh-huh."

Donnie doubts the legitimacy of that. It'd have come up in conversation earlier if they were licensed therapists, he believes. Although he does suppose it's better than to judge a book by its cover.

He realizes he's just been staring for a little too long when Huginn clears his throat. It's uncomfortable to be prompted like this; Leo and Draxum have always been willing to be the talkative ones of the dynamic. He prefers not to make such a ruckus.

"I'm just thinking," Donnie says, grabbing his human tablet (that's supposed to be hidden, Draxum doesn't really like human technology outside of Donnie's personal workspace) and texting S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N about repairs. He's immediately combative about having to do things, as he always is. "About the people who ran in through here."

"Oh, those guys?" Muninn asks. "The girl and that loud turtle boy that kind of looked like—"

Huginn elbows him again, hard. Muninn's eyes widen in surprise, and his mouth snaps shut, before he gives Donnie a theatric shrug.

"—nobody that the boss knows about."

"Probably just some random yokai," Huginn looks uncomfortable. "Nobody important. Muninn's just saying stuff."

"I do do that!"

Donnie blinks. "Yes. Them."

"Yeah, those nobodies were weird, weren't they?" Huginn says, sweating bullets. "You should ask the boss about them, maybe. And not us. Because we don't know anything about then."

"Yep," Muninn agrees.

Donnie stares them down, genuinely confused. They both look like they're going to implode, staring in opposite directions and inspecting the far walls like they're the most interesting thing in the room. Which they aren't.

"I think he's onto us," Muninn stage-whispers.

"Well he certainly is now!" Huginn snaps back. "He just stares! That's what he does!"

Donnie tilts his head. "That's true."

They both sigh in relief, for some reason.

Donnie drops the topic, not interested in interrogating them or trying to figure out what they're lying about. He's thorough as he tends to their injuries, and he's just as quiet as he was before as he drops them off at their usual bed and makes his way back to the lab.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N's waiting for him at the entrance, despite being so argumentative about it before. Donnie appreciates him, even though the rest of his family doesn't.

He unlocks the home's systems for him, making him vow to be super duper responsible with them this time. No attempted murder or irresponsible use of mystic cleaning materials.

"Yeah, whatever," he ends up saying as he floats through the doorway, which is the same as a grand promise from him, really.

Donnie wonders if Leo's aware that S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N is his child in everything but name. Deadbeat.

Draxum and Leo don't seem to acknowledge S.H.E.L.L.D.ON's entrance. They're still talking, and very little work has been done, as expected. Donnie lingers in the doorway.

"—but no sign of One," Draxum is saying.

He immediately elects not to move.

"I mean, who cares?" Leo's as dismissive as ever. "They could've gotten split up. Who's to say Lou Jitsu got both of 'em? Like, he dropped us, right? And One's huge. He probably got picked up by a hawk or something."

"If that's the case, perhaps I should send out search parties…" Draxum trails off. He looks conflicted, more than usual. "Considering Four's bratty behavior, he may not be worth trying to search for, but—"

"I mean, duh," Leo giggles. "He ran in here with a human. She was cool."

Donnie's eyes widen.

"We don't call humans cool."

"Oh, fuck off, boomer. Let's just hope the bugs get to her or something."

"She was quite tenacious, she would be…"

"Four?" Donnie asks out loud.

Both of them whirl around to stare at him, looking surprised. Donnie's not surprised. He knows he's quite stealthy, but it's never been hard when those two have no situational awareness.

"Ah nuts," Draxum sighs, and gestures to Leo.

"I mean, who else do you think that could be?" Leo drawls, sticking his hands into his pockets. His tail is lashing again, which means he's nervous. "Tiny angry turtle boy? He doesn't look like any of the Kappa we've seen or nothing."

"It would be rude to assume," Donnie says, even though it feels obvious now. He was curious before, but only because it wasn't often that people tried to break into his home. A yokai that knew nothing about the Hidden City, too, who gawked in fascination at mystics and seemed unaware of their general practicality…

"No, he looks exactly like one of your brothers," Draxum sighs, throwing a hand over his face. "And decently trained… there's a possibility Lou Jitsu may have gotten a hold of him. I had assumed they'd all died."

Donnie stares, trying to process it all. Where is he meant to start?

"I just hope they don't get in the way of our work going forward," Draxum continues, "although that's nothing you need to worry about for now. Focus on the cause, and supplying your weapons."

"Leave it to us!" Leo chirps with a salute, sticking his tongue out like a doofus.

Donnie's not sure of what to say. So instead of voicing the many, many questions bubbling in his chest, he just says; "Okay," and turns to help out S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N with cleaning.

None of his family respond to him, which feels a bit like a relief.

The thing is, he'd spent a long time wondering. Visualizing what his unknown family would look like in his head, going off very little data, and coming up with ideas for what they'd act like. He's been aware that Four would be small, but not that small. He didn't take one look at him and assume he'd be a viable soldier. He just looked like a confused child.

He's not upset with himself for not knowing, and he's not upset with them for not immediately telling him. Although he's a bit caught off guard… perplexed, maybe. It's difficult to parse through how he feels, as he stares at the remains of Draxum's lab.

They're still talking. Their voices are lower, again. It's rare that Leo ever sounds that quiet.

Donnie's hands clench into fists. And unclench. He takes a deep breath, and intentionally works to smooth away the tension in his brow. His stress and surprise is unwanted. It's unnecessary. It's unproductive; nobody will be there to coddle him on the field.

The sight of the destroyed lab feels inexplicably familiar. The rubble invokes old, old memories in him, of blazing green fire, concrete scraping his tiny hands and the desperate cries of escaping warmth and safety.

He blinks, and the feeling fizzles away like it hadn't been there at all.

There's a breeze wafting in through the smashed window. The small boy's fundo must have smashed it in his pinball game through the room.

Donnie's struck by the realization that he doesn't actually know his name. There's no way of knowing for sure that he would've still had the haphazardly chosen names Lou Jitsu had given them before running, that they'd wrung out of Draxum only after weeks of nervous interrogation.

(Had he chosen new ones for them? Were they with Lou Jitsu, truly, at all?)

Donnie realizes he's not working. Without thinking, he picks up a piece of rubble, and immediately drops it again, just to give the appearance of it. It's ineffective, but they're not looking anyway.

(He finds himself wanting to ask.)

Here's the thing; Donnie has seen the surface world.

He was never actually supposed to. Draxum had spoken of deep forests and grand, sprawling mountains and the sun and sea, but only wistfully, in a sad, nostalgic tone that's implied it was something yokai-kind had tragically lost to the human threat.

I will make sure you see it one day, Donnie remembers him saying, having tucked him into bed after a long night of training, so quiet and somber that he still believes he was never meant to hear it. For years of his life, his father's descriptions had been the only promise to cling to.

Afterwards, he'd seen the night sky from the glimpses he managed in the windows of Auntie's hotel. The stars had been a topic of fascination for his young, naive mind. He'd wanted to reach out and graze them with his fingertips, his soul longing from within his gilded cage of marble and velvet.

It'd been Leo that'd listened to that call, dragged him out to witness the sea and the stars, deep into the night when the city was at its quietest. They'd gawked at every little sight, giggled to themselves about how ridiculous humans looked, and scaled a tall building to sit together and admire the sights.

It hadn't been a one-time occurrence. There's still a dial hidden in Donnie's nightstand, although he's never used it himself. It doesn't look hard to do the movements that Leo always does— it's just four flicks of the wrist. He's just always been more comfortable to put it in Leo's hands, let him handle it for him.

But he doesn't want Leo to know about these particular dreams. He's not sure how his brother would take it. He's always had such a pack mentality about the two of them, retaining this idea that they didn't need anyone new. He's sure that if Leo had the choice, they'd be holed up in a cottage alone in the wilderness, with no duties except for survival.

Donnie's always been ashamed to admit he wants more. He hates the affronted, betrayed look in Leo's eyes, the one he always smothers, at the prospect that he can't monopolize all of his attention. He wonders if Leo thinks it means he's not enough. He's not sure; he's never been the best at understanding that side of him.

(It's hard to imagine him having any insecurity; Leo has always been the brave one, between the two of them. To an extent that's always terrified Donnie, in fear that one day he'd push too far, and Donnie would be alone.

It's always been the same thing, over and over again. Leo would sneak out on his own, come home cackling with a busted lip, and he'd always soothe away Donnie's tears and say, it doesn't hurt.

And Donnie knows he will always be too scared to say, that's the problem. That's what I'm so scared of.)

They still share a room, even now, beds settled on opposite sides. Leo always faces him as he falls asleep, like he's scared that Donnie will disappear if he takes his eyes off him for a moment— while Donnie always faces the wall, his soft shell bared in trust.

But tonight, Donnie doesn't lay down. He stares at the wall above Leo, perched calmly, as his brother settles in and pulls blankets over him. He barely gives Donnie a questioning glance; he's used to behavior others would deem "odd" from him.

Donnie has always felt relieved by this— he can do anything, be anything, in any form he wants, knowing that there will always be one person in the world that accepts him, no matter what. It soothes away his fear, makes him comfortable to sharpen his words and show his teeth.

He wonders if that angry little boy would be the same way. He seemed not to like him, although Donnie is aware that love and interest is communicated in many different forms. If he were going by the standards he'd normally apply to Draxum, he would assume the boy adored him.

He can't stop thinking about it, a blaze of green and that boy decorated in orange. The markings on his shell looked like Leo's, he remembers. He can't help but wonder if that's what gave his identity away to him.

He feels stupid, but it's not like Leo ever takes his jacket off, even when he sleeps. He's told Donnie it feels like a warm hug.

"Yo," Leo says softly, catching his attention. His pupils nearly consume his irises— he tends to look at Donnie like that when he's in a good mood. "What's going on in that big cranium of yours, huh?"

Donnie blinks. He doesn't respond, because anything that comes out of his mouth would be a lie. He doesn't like lying.

"You thinking about that freakshow that ran through here?" Leo continues. "Not the girl, she actually had a sense of humor. Don't tell the old man I said that, I mean the little guy."

"He was little," Donnie agrees calmly.

"You know," Leo continues. "I literally offered to go fetch the Agent, which probably could've avoided the whole thing, but nooo, apparently he had to hire those stupid mercenaries for it. Literally dumb as bricks, shit from the ass of the council's stupidest. He's so insistent I do my goddamn job, but he never assigns me to like, anything."

"I thought you didn't like it," Donnie replies, mild and uninterested.

"I mean, I don't! But if he's gonna get on my case, you know—" he turns over to blow a raspberry at the ceiling. Donnie stands and quickly grabs the dial when Leo isn't looking, and by the time he turns around again, he's sitting back down. "God forbid a guy at least wants to have a little fun. Can you believe the old man hates fun?"

"Yes," Donnie says.

"Where was I going with this, uhh," Leo snaps his fingers. "Right! Little guy. Don't worry about him, we'll sort that out if he comes by again no problemo. He's not gonna be an issue. He kinda sucked ass at fighting anyway."

"You sounded like you were having fun," Donnie prompts.

"Oh! Yeah, I was, I already love bothering him, but—" Leo shrugs dramatically. "—he just kinda flailed and yelled a bunch, didn't even pose a good challenge. I barely even had to do anything! Zero outta ten, can't recommend that whole experience in good faith."

"Hm," Donnie responds, and flops over, turns around, and curls up without another word.

Leo laughs at him. He doesn't push the topic any further, just because he's decided he respects Donnie's boundaries today.

Donnie stares at the dial in his hands, and he waits patiently.

The minutes tick by as time passes. Nightfall creeps its way into the Hidden City slowly, and Donnie waits for what he estimates to be about an hour before he's sure Leo is really asleep. Looking over his shoulder, his guess is proven correct—he's good at faking it, but he's way less twitchy than he would be if he were awake.

He's a light sleeper, however. Donnie moves very slowly and carefully as he takes his glasses from the nightstand and slips out the door like a shadow, out into the hall. The lights have dimmed with nighttime, a manual process that Draxum initiates before he goes to bed every night. Huginn and Muninn might be awake, but Donnie knows they won't bother him, nor tattle. They never have.

Donnie rolls his shoulders back. He takes a deep breath, and makes a beeline for the entrance.

He keeps his steps light. The whole place is silent and spacious, and any little noise would echo all the way through. He'd rather not call attention to himself.

He's half way to the front door when he hears it. A small, scuffling sound. A pattern of newly familiar footsteps in the distance, that stop in their place. A caught breath, the sound of them ducking away at the sight of a shape in the dark.

Donnie turns around. His glasses catch the low light, and he creeps forward, turning a hallway. There's a suspiciously turtle-shaped lump in the dark, and Donnie's already thoroughly unimpressed by his lack of stealth or tact, sneaking around after hours like this. Is he stupid?

"Uhh—" the boy says.

Donnie stares at him, and proceeds to whack him upside the head. Again.

"Ow!" he shrieks, falling to the tiled floor. The sound doesn't echo as much as Donnie was afraid it would.

"It's late," Donnie states, impassively.

"I knew that!" the boy protests, rubbing at his head. Donnie quirks the ridge of his brow at him. His face reddens, and he corrects his tone in a hissed whisper, "I knew that."

"Okay," Donnie says.

The boy stares back at him, scrambling to his feet. He looks awkward, hunched over like he's aware he's not meant to be here. Donnie internally finds the sight a bit comical, in contrast to how enthusiastic he was to steal his things earlier. It's not like he cared, considering they're rich, but still.

"Umm," the boy says.

"You're in my house," Donnie comments. "Again."

"Yeah… okay, uh, listen, Donnie—" he swallows. "We gotta talk about something. I have to tell you something super duper important, and- and— I came all this way, and like, stole, so you cant laugh at me!"

Donnie tilts his head at him.

"Okay, listen." The boy's hands curl into fists at his sides. He seems to be hyping himself up, or something. "So, I— talked to my dad, and he said, you know, that— there were two more of us, you know, other than me and my big brother, before something happened and- and we got split up."

"Okay," Donnie says.

"And he said he gave them names, kind of, you know—" he stops himself, and takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, bracing himself. "Okay, you know what, whatever, who cares about that. I think you're my brother!"

"I know that," Donnie replies.

The boy's eyes pop open. "What."

"I know that," he repeats.

"…How long—?"

He shrugs. "Hours. I didn't count. Sorry."

"Wait, so like, how did you— umm, knooow?"

"He told me."

"Baron Draxum?"

"Yes," Donnie says.

"Is he like— I don't know, your dad? Does he count? Wait, I mean— I don't know if you were adopted, or, like—"

"I guess."

The boy stares at him. Donnie stares at the ceiling, trying really hard not to look nervous. Although he is, very much so. He wonders if he's putting the boy off by being curt. He decides he doesn't really care.

"Uhh." There's another beat of silence. "My name's Mikey."

"Okay."

Mikey clears his throat. Donnie doesn't say anything, still transfixed by the ceiling. It's quiet for a long, tense moment, presumably as his newly discovered brother scrambles to find something to say.

"…Do you wanna get coffee?" Mikey settles on.

Donnie does.