Day 1: Bombshell

The various members of the Mutant-Human Alliance (MHA) gathered around the meeting hall. Of course, not all of them were there. Only their top operatives, it seemed. Warriors tried and proven many a time, called forth now--for what? Donatello could only guess. Leonardo, as always wearing his adamantium katanas, a gift from the emperor of Shi’ar, gave him a discreet nod. Leo, the great Alliance ninja. Nobody dared laugh at his skill anymore. Michelangelo smiled slightly at Don, pistol at his waist, tense and grim; something was in the air. Raphael slouched on a stool in the corner, silent and taciturn, his enormous ax leaned up against the wall. Looking bored, as always.

It was Garret who had called them all together, and it was Garret who at last stood to speak. The assemblage fell silent, waiting in tense apprehension for the terrible announcement they were sure was forthcoming. "There is good news and bad news," he said. Don frowned. Was Garret trying to make a joke? Garret? "We have received critical information from a spy deep in Houston base." The good news? Houston was Mastermold’s main HQ, they all knew it. Mainly because of oil supply, desperately needed to fuel the machines that built and powered his Sentinels. Even now, MHA soldiers were nearby, ready to strike. "Our troops may be in danger. The Sentinels plan an attack." Garret held up a hand for silence. "If they succeed, our people will be wiped out. But with knowledge of the plans beforehand, we can cripple Mastermold and take his precious base." Now even Raph was paying attention. This was big stuff.

Don was nearly delirious. So many years! Could it be that the war might end now? "This news must be taken to our camp near Houston." Of course. Don’s heart sank. So that was why the meeting had been called in Pero camp. Pero was just a makeshift clutter of buildings, but it was the closest the Alliance had gotten to Mastermold.

Mastermold controlled the majority of the oil supply in the world, and even that which the MHA did possess, they didn’t have the power or the people needed to get it out of the ground. So they scrimped, went without, used what they stole from Mastermold, hooked the closest camps into the Sentinel factories they took over. But it was never enough. There was no gas to power the aircars Don had so carefully built, and they were only used for emergencies, which was why they all had known how serious he matter was: Garret, leader of the Alliance, had ordered them all picked up and brought here as quickly as possible, using aircars.

But the aircars could not go beyond Pero; partially because of lack of gas, but mostly because, while people on foot might elude pursuit, aircars would immediately be picked up by radar. So someone would have to hand-carry the message the 150 some miles to Houston camp. Don swallowed. Anyone to do that risked death--or worse, torture at the hands of Mastermold, who was known to reside(if you could call it that) in Houston base.

"I trust I do not need to explain the dangers involved," Garret said, and there were murmurs and mutterings in various places about the room. "And the message must be there in three days." The room exploded into cacophony. 150 miles in three days! Insane! The messenger would have to move like mad to come close to getting there. Garret whistled, catching everyone’s attention. "Thank you. I am not going to order anyone to do this. You have been called here because I believe you to be the best fighters in the MHA. I need volunteers. Two of them. Just in case. I will go to my office, and anyone who wishes to discuss this further can meet me there." Garret turned to go. His exit was interrupted by a harsh, low voice.

"I’ll go." Heads swiveled to stare at the speaker. It was Raph. "Bad odds ain’t news to me. And I’d just as soon die on a mission than when Mastermold gets Houston and comes up here to stomp us." Don admired his brother’s forthright manner. This was pure Raph, rushing forward into danger, not thinking about the consequences. Leo frowned slightly. Why does that piss him off? wondered Don. He hesitated, thinking, Do I know what I’m doing? Then he found himself speaking up in the vast silence.

"What the hell? Me too." Eyes bugged out. Don almost grinned.

--Coming over to my side at last, eh?--Raph’s voice said in his head.

Don responded with a mental smirk. --Somebody’s gotta keep you out of trouble.-- Don sensed varied feelings from those around him. Regret, worry, anger. And confidence. All present knew that if anyone could really do this suicide mission, it would be him and Raph. Don realized he’d been projecting this to Raph.

--Yeah, we’re pretty hot, all right.--

Don sniggered, --Yeah, I’ve got the genius brain and you have the big jock body.--

Raph replied good-naturedly, --Har har. Come a little closer and say that, why don’t ya?--

Garret recovered slowly as they engaged in mental conversation. "Well-thank you," he said. He clearly hadn’t expected such an immediate response to his request, and certainly not from them. "You’re sure?" At Don’s nod and Raph’s rolled eyes, Garret added in a final word. "Fine. I’ll meet you at the outside gate, 4 am, two hours shy of sunrise. We’ll set up your gear then." He nodded to them and left.

No one seemed to want to talk to Raph and Don. What was there to say? "Thanks for saving my butt there, good luck, hope you don’t get turned into dog chow?" Don sighed. Why was nothing ever simple. The two of them drifted together as they moved down a corridor towards Don’s room, one of hundreds in the vast complex. Mike raced to catch up.

"Hey, guys!" he called. Then, sobering, he said, "Why?"

Raph shrugged. "Told ya already."

"Don?"

"I don’t know," he said slowly. "Maybe I just don’t want Raph to do it alone." Raph snorted. "Knock it off, Raph. But somebody had to do it. Why not me? Can’t spend days deliberating." It was true, but it wasn’t the real reason. Why had he said he’d go? Suicidal urges? He doubted it. He probed deep into his mind. Maybe it had something to do with last night’s dream? A repeater, it was beginning to worry him. Blackness, cold metal turned to flame as he touched it, squeezing hands, flame leaping into his chest, the chill wind, a chain wrapped around his neck, detached laughter, blinding pain. I’m worried for Raph! Don realized. Why did he sense that the dream was a premonition about Raph? He’d have to think about that. In the meantime, he closed off his thoughts of dream, grimacing. Leo was suddenly there in their minds. Furious, but his mental voice was calm. He had heard the explanations.

--You’re a fool, Raph, a damned fool.--Leo growled mentally. He’s worried too! Don decided. That’s why he’s so angry! He thinks Raph’s endangering himself and he doesn’t like it because he won’t be there to look out for him.

--I’ll be careful.--Raph assured.

Don added privately to his brother --I’ll make sure his fool ass doesn’t get in any trouble. Stop worrying so much, Leo.--

But Leo still doubted.

Raph asked --Meet you all for dinner?--

--Sure.--Mike agreed. --My place okay?--

--You know it!-- Don looked forward to an excellent meal this evening. Mike was a master. He suddenly thought of another reason for Leo to be ticked off. He would be the one to tell Splinter what Raph had done now and invite him to dinner. Don grinned. Good luck, Leo!

* * *

They all pushed back from the table, full, if not happy. Don shot a glance at Splinter. He’d taken Don aside earlier, asked him about his feelings concerning Raph. He’d already heard the dream, but Don told his sensei why he felt the need to rush after his brother. Finally, Splinter had nodded and pulled away, understanding, although not condoning, his choice.

Splinter sighed. It was so hard to support his sons when they did such reckless things. He reflected on the Sentinel War. It had gone on for decades, though to Splinter it seemed more like centuries since that first day, so long ago. ("We’ve got to get these people out of New York! Mastermold and his pals are coming!") He had trained ninja, now fully prepared to leave the actual fighting to Leonardo and his young pupils. Leonardo did well, he was proud of him. He was proud of all his sons. They had experienced pain and sorrow, fear and anger, and overcome. He regretted Donatello and Raphael’s decision, but it was theirs to make. And if they felt they had this duty, he could not stop them. And yet--he worried.

Raphael frowned to himself. He was never quite sure why he did anything any more. His words in the meeting had been snap, flippant, not thought out. Why did he want to go? Did he have some kind of death wish? Was he absorbing Leo’s principles of honor and duty? He chuckled. Unlikely, he decided. Then why? Ever since Arik’s death, his resignation from the Orabu nation, when he came to the MHA, he was never sure what he was thinking or doing. Or even what he felt inside. Perhaps this insane death-run could banish his inner demons once again, before they glutted themselves on his soul.

Leo scowled at Raph, cursing silently. How could he put that look sadness back into Splinter’s eyes? Stupid fool, Leo thought. Why can’t he just stay put where he belongs? Leo was shocked, then. But wouldn’t I be the first to jump if my honor were at stake? But Raph--could this be about his honor? His fury? That was something new to consider.

Mike took another sip of wine and sighed deeply. What was left to say? In less than twelve hours, his brothers would be bound for the great unknown, in danger of their lives. He wished he had thought of it before Don--he should be the one to go with Raph. Hell, no! he thought then. We should all go! We’re a team, aren’t we? Aren’t we?

But no one was there to answer his plea.