Chapter Text
New York City, United States
“Here it is!”, Mikey said, ushering their new human friend through the turnstiles. “Home sweet home!”
April O’Neil gazed around in stunned silence, taking in everything that most definitely did not belong in an abandoned subway station. A central room filled with beanbag chairs and an old-fashioned TV, a large spiral staircase leading up to a sewer tunnel, a separate room lined with Japanese-style walls. Mikey wasn’t all that surprised she was still pretty shell-shocked. After, it had been a crazy few days for everyone involved.
First, Sensei let them go above ground! Well, they’d gone above ground before, but this was the first time that Sensei had let them go above ground without him with them. Just him and his bros! Of course, that then led to them seeing a bunch of dudes in suits trying to kidnap a guy and his daughter. They couldn’t just stand by and let it happen, so they intervened.
Of course, instead of Mafia guys or Government guys or anything else like that, it was aliens! Leo and Raph didn’t believe him the first time, but after breaking into their compound, they admitted he was right. They’d managed to rescue April, but the aliens, the Kraang, had taken her dad.
“This is… honestly incredible”, April said, letting out a shaky breath. “I still can’t believe this is real. I mean-”
“We understand”, Leo said, putting a hand on April’s shoulder. “This has been a crazy time for all of us, and we get that you’re overwhelmed.”
“Thanks”, April said. Leo let her collapse onto the old couch, where she proceeded to run her hands through her fiery red hair. “For everything.”
“You have somewhere you can stay?”, Leo asked. “I mean, we have a spare room we don’t really do anything with if you need a place to stay.”
Mikey stole a glance over at the aforementioned room. Sitting in the corner, just next to the large bay they used as a storage room/medstation/halfpipe, the room was no different from the other three rooms that he and his brothers stayed in. Almost like their lair was perfectly intended for all of them.
There was a place for their missing brother in their home.
Fortunately, Mikey didn’t have to say anything. April shook her head. “No. I… My aunt lives nearby. I called her, and I can stay with her as long as I need. She needs some help at her antique store, anyway.” She sighed, hugging her knees and staring at the broken TV. “At least until you guys find my dad. I… I still feel uncomfortable getting you involved.”
“Hey”, Raph said, cracking his knuckles. “They messed with a friend of ours. That makes us involved, whether you or they or anyone likes it or not.” Aprils smiled, clearly grateful.
Mikey thought about something. He remembered the day that Sensei had told them about Donatello. The story about the strange, monotone men that chased after their father with advanced weapons, leading to Donnie being separated from them. Everything lined up perfectly with the Kraang! And April was in that place for a while…
While Raph and Leo went into the kitchen and the dojo respectively, Mikey sat down on the couch next to April. “Hey, April. While you were being held by the Kraang, did you see anyone else? Another Turtle, perhaps?”
“What?”, April asked, before shaking her head. “No. It was just me and my dad. Why? Did… did the Kraang take someone else?”
Before Mikey could explain the situation with Donatello, or even say anything else, his brothers returned to the living room. Leo introduced April to Splinter, while Raph placed a bowl of chips on the coffee table. After he did so, he pulled Mikey into a headlock, yanking him back off the couch and towards their rooms.
“Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!”, Mikey hissed. He was finally able to shift his arm, forcing himself out of the headlock and turning to glare at his older brother. “What was that for, bro?”
“Mikey”, Raph said, his voice uncommonly soft. He only talked like that when Mikey was upset or to his pet tortoise. “I know you still think Donatello is alive, but-”
“I don’t think he’s alive”, Mikey snapped. “He IS alive. I know he is.”
Raph crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Look, just don’t get April involved in your little search. She’s got enough to worry about.”
Raph pushed back Mikey to go back to talk with April, Leo, and Splinter, while Mikey fumed in the corner. This was far from the first time that he and his older brothers had talked about this; he’d even talked about the subject of Donnie’s survival to Sensei a few times in the ten years or so since he’d told them about him. All of them, ever since the beginning, believed he was dead.
Mikey never did. His other brother was out there. Sure, he’d never turned up anything when he’d snuck out to look for him. Even when he’d found the old place where Donnie had gone missing, there was no sign of him. The homeless people they sometimes traded with had heard nor seen anything about another mutant turtle. It was… Sure, there was no sign of Donnie and no indication.
Still, he was out there. Donatello was, somewhere, alive. Just waiting to come home.
<~~=~~>
Moscow, Russian Federation
Mikhail Budanov couldn’t help but look in each of his car's mirrors as he pulled into the side street. He could practically feel eyes directly on him the whole time he’d been driving to this meeting place. More than just the passing eyes of pedestrians and the lingering gaze of public surveillance cameras. No; this was the harsh, glaring eyes of predators.
He knew that was impossible, of course. He’d been careful in his plan. No one knew he’d downloaded the array of blackmail that Steranko had gotten ahold of over the years. No one knew he’d been in contact with one of Steranko’s rivals. And no one knew where he was going in order to exchange the files for a way out of Russia.
Of course, if anyone could find that out, it would be Steranko’s monsters.
Still, he began to breath easier as he pulled up to the warehouse where the meeting would take place. As promised, a light had been left on and when he checked the door, it was unlocked. He moved swiftly, his shoes clacking on the cement floors and echoing in the cavernous storage room beyond the offices.
It was in one of those offices that three men greeted him. All wore suits and were adorned with various tattoos, though two of them were obviously carrying holstered pistols. The third, a somewhat thin man compared to the hulking giants of his bodyguards, smiled as Budanov entered.
“Welcome”, the thin man said, standing up. “You have what we asked for?”
Budanov nodded, reaching into his coat. He ignored the way the two bodyguards tensed and pulled out the small USB stick filled with blackmail. “Do you have what I wanted?”
The man nodded, reaching behind one of the desks and pulling out a small briefcase. Opening it up, Budanov was greeted with the sight of several stacks of American Dollars, a fake passport, and a plane ticket to Germany. “As requested.”
Budanov, for the first time that night, smiled. He was going to do it; he was getting out. He held up the USB stick to the thin man, who in turn reached out to grab it.
Just before their hands touched, the glass of the window shattered. In the next instant, something slammed into Budanov’s hand. Something small and moving at incredible speed, tore through his hand and broke the USB drive into pieces. Budanov screamed in agony as the bullet shattered the bones in his hand before embedding itself in the wall next to him. His paranoia was justified; someone had followed him!
The window broke down fully, and a figure leaped into the room. Budanov didn’t get a good look at whoever or whatever it was; all he heard was a low growl, and all he saw was the flash of steel and black clothing. He didn’t stick around to find out.
Clutching his bleeding hand, he shouldered the door open and lurched down the hallway, ignoring the yells and gunfire behind him. He practically fell down the stairs, him leaning on the railing being the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His heart was beating in his throat, and the only clear thing in his pounding head was the need to get out before the monsters caught him.
The door was slightly ajar when he reached the entrance. Knowing he was being watched, he pulled a pistol from his coat, flipping off the safety before kicking open the door. The space between the door and his car appeared to be empty, and he saw no one on the surrounding rooftops. Still cautious, he sprinted towards his car as fast as he could.
Just as he reached the door, setting down his pistol to open the door, something rose from behind the car. Budanov got the impression of a small drone, colored a dull white and green, before twin taser prongs shot out and slammed into his collarbone.
Budanov stumbled back, the shock stunning him and making his hands shake. He tripped over the curb, the drone following after him in order to keep him incapacitated. Finally, after a few more moments of disorientating shocks, the taser broke off and Budanov was left panting on the ground.
He tried to rise, ignoring the flare of pain in his still-bleeding hand that stained the snow beneath him. He stopped dead in his tracks as he rose to his knees at the click of a pistol being taken off of safe. “Don’t stop. Get up. Just keep your hands where I can see them.” Budanov recognized the voice; one didn’t soon forget a meeting with one of Steranko’s monsters.
He rose and turned around, his pained eyes glaring at the one that held him at gunpoint. The figure was swaddled in heavy clothes: a grey greatcoat, black jeans and boots, a fur collar and gasmask obscuring his features. A strange device was secured around his wrist, while a bullpup rifle was slung over his back. Still, while the figure could pass for a human at a glance, Budanov had been with Steranko long enough to recognize the little things that gave away the monster. The bulge around its back and shoulders, the strange flaring to parts of its limbs, the strange shape of its head and the gloved, three-fingered hands, one of which was still holding a pistol on him.
“Budanov”, the turtle said, slowly pressing him back at gunpoint while tsking him as if he were an errant child. “I bet you thought you were slick, didn’t you?”
“Cherepakha”, Budanov whimpered, reluctantly calling the monster by its chosen name. “I-I… this isn’t what it looks like.”
The turtle finally stopped, pistol still aimed squarely at Budanov’s head. “Really?” Cherepakha seemed to snort, before lowering the pistol slightly to tap something on his wrist device. Two more drones buzzed to life and surrounded him, the prongs of their tasers locked on him. Only when they fell into a hover did Cherepakha lower his pistol. “Then what is it?”
Budanov stammered, trying to think of something, anything that might stave off the monsters he had unleashed on himself. After desperately stammering out something that even he could barely understand, Cherepakha held up one of his hands. “Just stop. Even if I couldn’t see how fast your heart is beating, we both know you’re lying.” A dull red light flared behind the lens’ of the monsters mask, while the only other movement was a slight shrug. “Still, A for effort.”
“You’re giving him too much credit”, another voice said, directly behind him.
Whirling around, the other monster had appeared from the door. Unlike Cherepakha, Alopex couldn’t pass for a human. A pushy white tail hung out of the back of a black hoodie. Black cloth wraps wrapped around her hands and ankles, binding the hoodie and a pair of navy blue, baggy pants in place. Her ears poked through holes in her hood, while pale blue paint surrounded her glaring gold eyes. A hatchet and buckler were held loosely at her side, both stained red with blood.
“Fair enough”, Cherepakha said. “I mean, you thought betraying Mr. Steranko was a good idea, so there’s that.”
“Please”, Budanov said, hands still held above his head as his gaze shifted between the two of them. “Just let me go. I… I was planning on leaving the country anyway. I don’t need the money. Take it, take it.” Alopex was stalking around him, and Budanov forced his eyes shut. “I just need the ticket. I’ll leave. You’ll never see my face again.”
“You’re right”, Cherepakha said, raising his pistol. “We won’t.”
<~~=~~>
As soon as Alopex had shut the door behind them, Cherepakha threw off his hood and gasmask. He sighed, hanging the mask along with his overcoat and scarf, before kicking off his boots. Finally, he removed the camouflage jacket he wore underneath, leaving him in just a modified button-up shirt and jeans. “Come on”, he said, looking over at Alopex who had simply thrown back her hood. “Let’s go check in with Mr. Steranko.”
“Lead the way”, Alopex said, falling in behind him as they moved through the mansion. At this time of night, the place was almost completely deserted. As they headed up onto the second floor, they passed a few of Steranko’s men, who backed away to give the pair a wide berth.
By this point, he didn’t even pay attention to the faces the men made. Ever since the two of them had started working for Mr. Steranko as assassins instead of sneaky support, the looks of disgust that most humans adopted upon seeing the two mutants had become tainted by fear. It wasn’t obvious on the hardened criminals, but there was enough for his cybernetic eyes to pick up on. He supposed the Kraang had done one thing right by him.
No no, that wasn’t accurate. Cherepakha had long ago replaced the eyes that the Kraang had practically drilled into his skull with ones of his own design. The same went for the augmetic hand wrapped in black cloth that Alopex let dangle at her side. The only good thing that had come out of the Kraang facility in Fairbanks had been their connection with each other, and the escape which eventually put them on the path to meet Mr. Steranko.
The man was waiting for them in his office. His face was blank as they entered, Cherepakha shutting the door behind them. “I take it you have news for me?”
Alopex reached into the front pocket of her hoodie, pulling out two objects and setting them down on the desk: a broken pair of glasses and a golden tooth. “The traitor is dead.”
“Understated as always”, Mr. Steranko said, gazing down at the trophies. “Where is the rest of him?”
“Bottom of the Moskva with about 38.55 kilos worth of cinderblocks tied to his legs”, Cherepakha supplied. “We put the ice back. By the time the cops find him, any trail leading back to us will have gone cold.”
Mr. Steranko laughed, a smile cracking through his carefully constructed facade. He stood, turning to a small cabinet behind his desk and retrieving a bottle and three glasses. “You two continue to excel”, he said, pouring the clear liquor into the glasses. “In everything I give you. You know, when I first saw you after you had robbed from my men, I knew you two had potential.”
“And we’re thankful you saw that in us”, Alopex said.
Cherepakha nodded. “Yeah, Mr. Steranko.”
Steranko passed them two of the glasses, both of which they took. “You continue to prove that assessment correct. Your skills as fighters, not to mention Alopex’s skill and your gadgets, have helped us secure our position within the criminal world.” He held up his glass, the two mutants mimicking the gesture. “To our relationship.”
All three threw back the glasses. Cherepakha shuddered slightly at the taste and burn down his throat, but otherwise didn’t react. Alopex and Steranko were much the same, setting their glasses down as Steranko returned to his seat. “Speaking of our relationship, I have something for you to do.”
“Another hit?”, Alopex asked.
Cherepakha, trying to be a bit more optimistic, said, “Something with the Foot?”
“No”, Steranko said. “Well, not exactly. As you two well know, we’ve recently but the Menschikovs have recently come under our sphere of influence.” Both of them nodded, intimately familiar with the climatic events that led to that new state of affairs. “Well, that includes us taking control of their American enterprises. I want you two to go oversee them for the time being.”
“Y-you’re sending us to America?”, Cherepakha asked.
Steranko shrugged. “I trust you two above anyone else I have at my disposal. Plus”, he said, pointing at Cherepakha, “You especially have a knack for numbers and organization. Think of it like a reduced workload. Just get the operation there in order, make sure the local rats know to stay away, that sort of thing. Should be no more than a year.” He leaned forward, a different type of grin breaking his lips. “Besides, I’m sure you two will enjoy the relative privacy.”
If either of them were humans, Cherepakha had a feeling he and Alopex would be blushing. “Er, right”, he said, avoiding glaring at his… friend? Something more than that? Packmate, he settled on. Ever since Alopex had explained the concept to him, it had applied to both of them. No matter what happened, they were pack. “So, where are these operations? Los Angeles? Chicago?”
Steranko quickly poured and drank another shot. “New York.”