TMNT are belong to Mirage. The OCs are belong to me.

Camisade

"Getcher motor runnin'... head out on the highway... lookin' for adventure... and whatever comes our way... some-thing something something some-thing- take the world in a love embrace... fire all of our guns at once and... explode into spaaaaaaace..."

Damn, it was cold on this bike! Mike, bundled as he was, still could feel the winter seeping in. Of course, racing through the icy streets of New York City in the dark during the start of yet another storm was not helping matters.

He shrugged even as he drove. He knew it would be cold. Ah well...

"Like a true Nature's child, I was born, born to be wild! I can climb so high, I'm never gonna diiiieeee... BORRRRN to be WI-IYIYIY-LD!"

The high-pitched beeping of the communication device that was installed inside Raph's helmet nearly startled Mike into skidding through a deserted intersection. The voice that suddenly sounded in his sensitive ear put chills through him that no storm could compete with.

"Mikey! I'm gonna freakin' KILL ya! MIKEY! Answer me!"

Mike fumbled with the switch even as he continued on his way. His fingers were having a hard time activating the com-link, and he was being treated to a long and vociferous stream of abusive language and dire threats concerning the safety of "MY BIKE!"

"... yer gonna wish you'd never HATCHED! You HEAR ME?"

Success. Click.

"Sorry- Mikey can't come to the phone right now. Leave your name and number, and he just MAY get back to you- unless you're a hotheaded, foul-mouthed, evil-tempered bad dancer named Raphael. BEEP!"

"MIKEY! I SWEAR-"

"That's the problem, bro- you swear- all the time," Mike easily interrupted, as he made his way closer to his destination. It was scary; he knew there was a storm coming, but the fact that the City seemed deserted was a bit unnerving. This was New York! There's always something happening!

"Well, gotta go now, dude. Catch ya later! Thanks for calling!" the young Turtle said cheerfully. He easily (now that he could remember exactly where it was) switched off the link, effectively shutting out any further interruptions and death threats from his pissed-off brother, then killed the headlight on the bike and slowly cruised the last few blocks to the foundry.

Black as pitch; Mike, in all his years, never even remembered the sewers being this dark. The only light came from the apartments that were a safe distance from this rambling place. Mike found a safe place to stash the bike.

Digging through his "bag of tricks", he stripped off the helmet and quickly donned the night vision goggles. That made everything better.

"Correction: that makes everything pretty damn frightening," he murmured to himself. The fence and closest buildings before him stood out in eerie green-tinged circular illumination, like dull yet pulsing day-glow paint on a blacker than black canvas- Hey, that gives me an idea for my next project!. No moon, just clouds. No sound except the quick rasping of his own breath.

Gulping, he got himself under control.

You've been here before, Mikester. You know what to expect. This'll be your third encounter with that dude. Third time's the charm!

He paused, unsure.

"As long as it's the charm for me, not HIM!"

Then, he stealthily made his way over the fence and to the top of the nearest building, sticking to the shadows, wary of every step, every movement.

Nothing was stirring, not even a rat. Smiling at that one, he infiltrated further into the maze of abandoned buildings, hulking and forlorn shapes that seemed to huddle to the ground, trying to ward off the cold and the now falling snow. Taking a chance, Mike entered one of the buildings, wary for any scurrying shadows that would announce his presence to their master.

Nothing. Empty even of trash, the interior as cold as the outside night, Mike strained his ears for any sound that might be floating around in there. He was careful to make no noise himself; he knew how the least little scrape would be amplified tenfold in a place like this, with nothing to absorb the sound, to muffle it effectively.

Nothing. Not even any rat poop.

Makes sense. They'd stick to the inner buildings where they've a better chance of not being discovered, he reasoned, moving the length of the room and exiting through a gaping hole in the wall.

The next three buildings were the same. It was as if a cleaning crew had been hired and tidied up the place! Mike had not really examined the buildings before, but still it surprised him.

Standing in the center of the fourth building, he finally heard something- but not what he had expected!

A battle!

Quickly he was out the building and on top of it, hopping from roof to roof. A growing sound of muffled gunshots, of loud commands and rough voices; of screaming rats, cursing men- and the unmistakable tone of Hun!

"Shoot him again!"

Mike quickly made his way towards the sound of battle. The tallest of the buildings blocked his view, but he knew by then that whatever was going down was taking place on the other side. Leaping in the dark, he managed to grab onto a rusted fire escape. Years of corrosive weather caused the ancient metal frame to groan and shift, and for a brief second Mike thought it was going to come away from the wall. Yet he scaled it as nimbly as possible given his clothing, and soon was on the roof.

Flashlight beams waved up from the other side, tracing crazy patterns in the night, illuminating the growing flurry of falling snow. It was even more surreal when viewed through the night vision goggles. The stinging stench of something burning, coupled with the dying screams of countless rats clued Mike to the fact that flame-throwers must be in use.

Sure enough, reaching the ledge and peering down, he could see a multitude of rat bodies creating a gruesome carpet here and there. Littering the ground, too, were a few human bodies, some not moving.

Taking center stage was the man- raging, roaring, fighting in that indescribable way of his. Hun and six or seven others had snares on him, and he was occasionally yanking a few of the more "lightweight" fellows around like a child would a yo-yo. Mike nearly gave himself away by laughing at the sight, but quickly shut up. This was not funny! More men came up and shot the creature a few times. Mike's guess at tranquilizer darts was proved correct.

"We're gonna end up killin' him, Master Hun!" one voice said. "Lookit how many darts we've used, and he's barely slowed down!"

"Just keep it up!" Hun ordered, as a few more men were able to get into a position to try and toss an extremely sturdy-looking net over the rampaging target. "He's weakening! And we're gonna be attractin' the attention of the cops if we don't end this NOW!"

Mike tried to make a count; tried to find an opening to interfere. But just as he had gotten into a position where he could distract Hun, the creature suddenly staggered under the combined effects of the drugs, the net, and the snares. He lost his balance, and was soon swarmed by Hun's men. Quickly a truck backed up, and before Mike could register it, the creature/man was dragged into the back of it, and it shot out of as fast as it dared in the growing storm.

"Quick, get the wounded and the bodies into the cars!" Hun was already getting into his own vehicle. "Straight back to HQ! We'll dispose of the dead later!"

And he was gone.

"Damn," Mike muttered aloud, heedless of the remaining men. Not that it mattered; they were preoccupied with gathering their own and getting the hell away from this damn place. Soon it was just Mikey, the snow- and the rats.

The rats.

It suddenly occurred to Michelangelo, standing on the top of the building looking down, that the surviving rats were slowly gathering in front of him, making some sort of noise- and looking up.

"Ummmm..."

More were joining them. The milling crowd below was slowly growing in number, heedless of the ever-increasing snowfall.

"I wonder if rats can climb?"

Mike decided to not wait to find out. Back the way he'd come, keeping to the rooftops, pausing to scan the ground, and seeing rats everywhere.

"Great. HEY! I'm not the one who took him away, okay?" he called down at the furry masses, leaping and nearly falling when his foot slipped in the loose snow that was quickly accumulating on the roof ledges.

Left. Run. Leap. Forward. Leap. Slip. Right. Leap leap leap. Forward.

The fence he'd originally scaled was in sight. It would be quite a feat, but he had to leap to the ground and make it to the fence. Already a few rats were showing up; the goggles revealed their shaggy, snow-covered bodies racing around between this last building and his goal of the fence.

Despite the temperature, he was sweating inside his coat. He'd move quicker without the clothing, but he also knew he'd freeze without it, even if he could make it to the relative warmth of the sewers. And Raph would not appreciate his leaving the bike, not even to save himself.

"On the other hand, I'm dead either way," Mike shrugged, and grinned. Then with a magnificent leap into the air, he cleared a LARGE group of rats, hit the ground hard, tucked and rolled, jumped up, and bolted for the fence! Up, over- a loud ripping sound, a sudden tugging resistance of material on metal- and he was clear, and heading straight for the bike.

The rats, for reasons of their own, did not follow.

"Whew!" he panted, slowing to a walk. "I need to train harder- in clothes! That was sorta difficult. But at least I'm safe!"

He rounded the corner to where the bike was hidden- and was greeted by the sight of an extremely pissed off Leonardo. The goggles Mike still wore showed him clear as clear just how deeply etched the anger was on his face.

"Quick!" Mike snapped, rushing to his brother. "Hun and his goons grabbed Victor! We gotta save him!"

"Man, this bites! I should be out there haulin' Mike's sorry ass back here."

"If you were out there, all you would bring home WOULD be his ass," Don pointed out. "At least with Leo, Mike has a chance to return alive."

Raph glared at Don, who shrugged it off. Glancing at the clock, he had other concerns.

"I would have thought that Splinter would be back by now," he said. Even though he was grounded, he was still allowed some freedom. His ability to visit Leatherhead had been restored, but only if Splinter were in the Lair when he left. Don knew better than to try and get past that condition. And he'd been promised a trip there once Splinter and Baker returned from this meeting.

"Well, the weather ain't too good," Raph pointed out, as a weather bulletin crossed the screen warning everyone to stay off the streets. "He's probably on his way back right now. Besides-"

Don's cell rang, and he quickly answered.

"Donatello!" came the frantic voice of Professor Honeycutt. "It was a trap! I'm afraid that Miss Karai and her ninja have captured Dr. Baker..."

Don felt his stomach flip; felt cold fear grab his heart even before Honeycutt could finish.

"... and Master Splinter!"

Hun swore as he applied the stinging antiseptic to his many cuts, bites, and scratches. He knew that rats did not carry rabies, so he did not worry about getting shots, but he also knew just how much infection existed out there in the big bad world.

Plus that clone had gotten in a few bites as well, and God knew what he might catch from THAT genetic experiment of Bishop's.

"Here's your robe, Master Hun," Miller announced, entering after knocking and bringing Hun his fancy dragon-embossed garment. He also carried a small tray with a large snifter of brandy , setting it down on the nightstand and assisting his boss with the final bandaging of the wounds, then helping him on with the robe. "You want I should cancel your appointments for tomorrow?"

"Naw, we'll wait and see what the weather looks like in the morning," he replied, taking a grateful sip of the fine alcohol-yet another of his acquired tastes that he'd carefully cultivated. "Is that guy secured?"

"Yes sir. We adjusted the cage to accommodate his lying down since he's still out cold, but there ain't no way he can get outta it without killin' himself. And I got at least five guys watchin' him."

Hun nodded, taking another sip and eyeing his bed. He was tired, and if the weather didn't prevent it, he had an important meeting in the morning. Fortunately his face had escaped any injuries. He'd not have to come up with some plausible reason for any scratches and cuts.

"Damn, that was hard," he admitted, thinking on the literal battle they'd just gone through. "What's the damage?"

"Only two dead," came the answer. "We thought it was three, but Carter was only hypothermic. The rest are mainly broken bones, bites, and two bad burns."

"Idiots! You'd think by now they'd know how to handle a flame-thrower," Hun gruffed.

"And, no cops showed up," Miller finished up. "Tony and Ed stayed behind to make sure, but the weather is pretty bad, and I guess no one in the surrounding area noticed the noise.

"Good. We sure don't need the attention. Okay, tell the boys I said good job. I'm off to bed," Hun decided, draining the glass and dismissing his assistant.

Once comfortable beneath the covers, he reflected on the effort that had gone into capturing this clone. Two dead. Many injured.

That Agent Grant had better appreciate this extra "gift".

"Father! Father! I have captured the Rat! I have secured the father of Leonardo! Soon I shall avenge you, my father, my master! Soon I will restore your Honor!"

She got up, and despite the lateness of the hour, she retreated to her bath. Dropping her robe, she dipped out the hot water from the elegant ofuro, sluicing it over her body, and then, seating herself on the bath stool, she soaped up and washed herself thoroughly. More water straight from the ofuro, and then, when every trace of soap had been removed from her fine skin, she slowly lowered herself into the deep tub, half-hissing, half-groaning in reaction to the extremely hot water.

She sat there, curving her back into the wall of the tub, allowing her eyes to close as she breathed in the steamy scent of the minerals in the water.

Soon Leonardo would be there, looking for his father. He would come alone. She was certain of it. As the leader, he would forbid his brothers from interfering in their showdown.

Leonardo. She had once considered him an ally. A friend, until he had betrayed her trust. She had admired his skill with the sword; even as she had fought with him on the spaceship, she had admired his skill.

Abruptly she sat up, cursing herself violently and him moreso. The physical sting of the hot water as she moved suddenly was nothing to the emotional sting of his betrayal!

He had betrayed her trust! He had dishonored their friendship!

He had cost her her FATHER!

"And I will cost you YOURS, naitsuusha!"