Unwanted Emotional Feedback

by MonkeyMindScream

Summary:

Krang biology was weird. They could grow this... meat-moss and use it to take over things. Objects, animals, people- honestly, they kind of reminded Leo of the parasitic brain-suckers from Jupiter Jim: The Enemy Within.

Sort of. The brain-suckers would transplant a piece of their bodies into some poor unsuspecting redshirt, and then take them over from the inside. The Krang had just put their weird tentacles all over everything, and apparently that had been enough. Blech.

Well, as horribly scarring as that whole... situation had been, for- for a number of reasons, at least Leo could comfort himself that it was over and done with now! The Krang were gone. Everyone was safe. Everything was fine.

(...even if he had been dreaming about the prison dimension a lot recently...)

Chapter 1: A Prologue, or Something Like It

John Bishop had always liked the way his oxfords sounded as he strode down a hallway. Smart, deliberate — the sound emphasized when he was walking with purpose (which he usually was). It left an impression. It made people look to see what the source of the noise was.

Or at least, it did for the ones who didn’t have their heads crammed up their asses.

Dr. Xeinos couldn’t be bothered to look up from his lunch as John approached his table. Hell, he couldn’t even be bothered to look up when John came to a stop directly beside his seat. Snobby son of a—

John cleared his throat. No response. He did it again. Man just took another bite of his sandwich. Getting annoyed now, he cleared his throat a third time, and—

“Generally, it’s considered polite to offer people some sort of greeting when you come up to them,” Dr. Xeinos said, his tone carrying that specific note of friendliness that people only used when they disliked someone. “Something like ‘hello,’ or even just, ‘could we talk?’” Finally, he looked up. “A bit rude to march up to someone and glower down at them until they acknowledge you.”

John scowled. “Even ruder to notice someone standing right next to you and act like they aren’t there,” he said, tone clipped as he pulled up a chair at Xeinos’ table. 

“Won’t you please sit down?” Xeinos asked dully, watching with a flat expression as he did exactly that.

John ignored the sarcasm. Just because Xeinos couldn’t be professional didn’t mean he wouldn’t be.

“I need to talk to you about—”

“About my work on the specimen you brought me three years ago?” Xeinos asked, dead inflection unchanging as he finished the last of what looked to be a ham and cheese on rye. “John, we’ve been over this…”

“It’s been over three years, and we’re still finding— deposits of whatever those things covered New York in,” John insisted. Because surely if he could just force some basic sense past the man’s thick skull, he’d stop being so difficult. “If you’d push a little harder to get some information out of that thing, or if you’d just let me interrogate it, we might be able to make some actual—”

“She.”

“—progress— what?”

“She. The specimen you’re referring to isn’t an it, she’s a she.”

“It’s an alien,” John countered, disgusted. “I don’t care what it—”

“Also,” Xeinos added, digging a pudding cup out from a nearby pack, “her species refers to themselves wholesale as ‘Krang.’ It’s the closest equivalent they have to names, so feel free to refer to her as that over just ‘alien.’”

John stared at him a moment, incredulousness and frustration dangerously close to overflowing. Taking a steadying breath, he said, slowly, purposefully, “I don’t give a damn what that thing calls itself, one way or another. It and the rest of its kind wanted to enslave all of humanity. It hurt people, Xeinos, do you understand that?” 

Xeinos hummed noncommittally around a spoonful of pudding.

John sat in silence for several sustained seconds, waiting for him to respond properly. He never did. Getting fed up, John pressed, “I need you to increase the pressure on the alien until it tells you something of use. If you don’t have the stomach for it, you need to turn it over to me. This has gone on long enough. We need a way to pinpoint the remaining infestations as quickly as possible so we can—”

“God’s sake, John. Can’t a man enjoy his Snack Pack in peace?”

John was quickly losing his battle with frustration. “This is more important than a goddamned Snack Pack, Xeinos, we’re talking about the fate of the world!”

“World’s been doing just fine for the last three years or so,” Xeinos pointed out. “Or at least no worse than usual. Forgive me if I don’t quite understand your urgency.”

John opened his mouth to fire back with something biting, but Xeinos continued, “At any rate, she couldn’t tell you anything even if she wanted to. Not only are the ‘deposits’ to which you’re referring organic growths – and thereby impossible to accurately predict the spread of without careful and intentional cultivation – but that hadn’t been her responsibility during the invasion, anyway. She acted more as a commander towards the masses that had been assimilated.” 

Another spoonful of pudding. “Moreover, without the Krang who’d instigated the growth to further direct it, it’s nothing more than harmless biomass.” Xeinos glanced at him. “Not to repeat myself, but considering we’ve only seen the one Krang within the last three years – and believe me, if her kin are anything like her, they wouldn’t wait three years to act if they could help it – it all makes your insistence towards further action seem a bit… fanatical.”

“Did it tell you all that?” John asked, having to fight to keep his upper lip from curling into a sneer.

“Who else?”

Another quiet, steadying breath. Perhaps he could work with this… Xeinos was clearly one of those idiots who got hung up on “oh, but we should respect extraterrestrial life, not eliminate it!” John had dealt with them before – bunch of neo-hippies, all of them. If he could ever find a moment’s peace (which was unlikely, he was a busy man), he had strong intentions to petition his higher-ups to label such opinions as legally punishable treason. 

But until then, the sentiment had its uses. This type always thought they had a connection with whatever they were studying. They always thought they’d be able to befriend it.

If he could appeal to Xeinos’s ego, make him feel that actually, yes, John agreed that he clearly had a “special bond” with the alien, then it would only take a bit more prodding to convince him that that was why John had come to him in the first place. He needed help from the only person who’d be able to get through to the creature.

(And then, when Xeinos inevitably failed, he’d be disillusioned enough where he’d pass it off to John without any further fuss.)

“You two must have become good friends for… her to have told you all this, then,” he said, swallowing his disgust.

“Absolutely not,” Xeinos replied immediately. “Friendship demands a certain degree of mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Don’t get me wrong, I like her just fine—” (John only just barely managed to keep his nose from wrinkling in distaste) “—but I’d be a fool to think she’s anything more than tolerant of me.”

John paused, not expecting this deviation from the script, and struggling to think of a way to get it back on track. “You… you must at least feel some sort of— of connection with—?” He swallowed. “With Krang—?”

Xeinos waved his hand dismissively. “She’ll kill me one day or another; first chance she gets, I expect. But that’s hardly her fault.”

“…are you out of your fucking mind?” John asked, losing the fight to maintain his composure after deciding that Xeinos was, in fact, serious. “How would killing you not be its fault?”

“If I took a lion,” Xeinos began, “and kept it in my apartment, would it come as a shock to anybody should they one day hear that I’d been mauled to death?” 

He paused just long enough for the question to sink in, but before John could respond, he answered himself: “No. Even if I fed it and played with it every day, even if I spent my every free moment taking care of it, no one with even a lick of common sense would be surprised. Because it’s a lion. It doesn’t form ‘connections’ or emotional bonds like we do; it can’t. It doesn’t care if I feed it or take care of it, it doesn’t care if I love it. It operates based on its instincts. It knows to hunt when it’s hungry, and to lash out when it’s annoyed or stressed. And if left to its own devices, it’ll do exactly that.

“The Krangs’ instinct is to consume, to assimilate. They aren’t complex organisms like we are, not exactly. They are – effectively – an invasive parasite that developed sapience over millions of years of evolution. They’re capable of logic and reason, and qualify as what we’d consider intelligent – remarkably so, in fact. They can have emotional responses to certain stimuli, and can even forge meaningful relationships within their own society. But they simply cannot feel empathy as we humans define it. Their brains literally don’t produce the chemicals necessary for it.”

Xeinos shrugged a bit. “Not that I’d expect you’d care, but a good portion of my studies in the last three years have been in regards to the Krangs’ brain chemistry. In fact, in my current experiment, I’ve actually managed to take a sample of her biomatter, which I’ve been using too—”

(Xeinos was right; John didn’t care.)

"But anyway," Xeinos continued, and Bishop tuned back in, "all this to say, no, if Krang were to kill me, I would in no way classify that as her fault. Thanks to her aforementioned instincts and brain chemistry, from her perspective, killing me would be the most logical course of action available to her. I’ve held her against her will for years, kept her from what she feels her purpose is. I’m an obstacle to overcome, nothing more.”

John chewed the inside of his cheek, digesting. His rising irritation made the buzzing fluorescent lights above their heads seem louder than they probably were.

“You do realize what you just described is nightmarish, don’t you?” he asked, hoping that if he spoke slowly enough Xeinos might actually absorb what he was saying. “A soulless monster hellbent on one goal, who can’t feel guilt? You have to understand what you just admitted to defending?”

“What do you know about dolphins, John?” Xeinos asked suddenly. John was reaching the end of his rope with all of his tangents, but before he could lay into him for it he went on, “Males will kill a female’s calf so they can impregnate her with their own. Groups of males will hold a female hostage for weeks and take turns routinely assaulting her. Males will assault each other’s blow holes. They’re one of the few animals that’ll kill solely for pleasure – in fact there was a documented case of two males ‘playing’ with a snake, and essentially waterboarding the poor thing to death. They were both fully erect during the act.” 

Xeinos looked at him. “Based on this documented lack of empathy and blatant inclination towards cruelty, do you believe that all dolphins should be destroyed, too?”

“…I never said I thought the alien should be destroyed,” John deflected, stalling to think of a rebuttal.

“You didn’t have to. Anyone who’s spoken with you for longer than four minutes knows it’s what you’re working towards, whether you say it or not.”

“Dolphins aren’t actively trying to overthrow humanity, Xeinos,” John said, finding his footing. “And my goal is – and always has been – humanity’s safety.”

“The things you plan to do to Krang should you ever get the opportunity to ‘interrogate’ her have nothing to do with anyone’s safety,” Xeinos countered.

There was a tense, drawn out pause.

“…I would need to ensure I was getting the most accurate information possible,” John finally said, deciding against trying to deny the implied accusation. “It would be a precaution.”

“I’m not sure who you’ve been speaking to, but it’s widely accepted that your suggested methods are conclusively ineffective for getting ‘accurate information’ – information which, as I’ve said, she wouldn’t even be able to give you in the first place. They would be far more conducive to making her say whatever she thought would make you stop.”

“It deserves it anyway.”

“She doesn’t have the ability to hurt anyone at present, nor can she escape. She is, presently, helpless against us. Your intentions sit uncomfortably close to war crimes, John.”

John sneered openly now. “Are you implying you’d feel pity for that thing? That you’ve openly admitted wouldn’t think twice about killing you?”

“I’d feel awful for a dolphin should you ever get your hands on it, and we’ve established how morally bankrupt they are. So yes.”

“You’d feel ‘awful’ for an interplanetary terrorist?” he clarified snidely.

“Very. You see, Krang may not be capable of empathy, but I am.”

John snarled. “You’re a weakling, more like.”

Xeinos raised an eyebrow at him. “Hm. You know, it’s funny… I’ve lost count of the times Krang has said that exact same thing to me.”

John rose to his feet so suddenly he knocked his chair back. The sound it made as it clattered to the floor drew the attention from the rest of the cafeteria. He couldn’t be bothered to care. A roaring, powerful anger had been sparked in him; he couldn’t be bothered to care about much at the moment.

“Don’t you DARE compare me to those things—!!”

“I wasn’t comparing you to anything, John,” Xeinos said, still infuriatingly calm. “I’m merely presenting the facts to you. Whatever conclusions you draw from them are your business.”

The rage boiling away inside of him made John’s chest tight. “You are going to grant me access to the alien today,” he said, voice authoritative and hard as stone. It was a tone that left no room for argument.

“No,” Xeinos said bluntly.

“As head of the Earth Protection Force—”

“I don’t answer to the Earth Protection Force,” Xeinos cut in dismissively. “I answer to the same people you do. And they put me in charge of Krang, not you. Once you bring in the specimens for study, they’re no longer under your jurisdiction. So I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with how I handle her for the foreseeable future, like it or not.”

As John stood there, near quaking in fury, Dr. Xeinos calmly gathered up the garbage from his lunch, and packed it neatly away into the brown paper bag he’d carried it in with.

“Have a pleasant day, John,” he said politely as he rose from his seat. Bishop watched as he disposed of the brown paper bag in a receptacle near the exit, before pushing through the double doors out of the lab’s cafeteria and into the hall.

Chapter 2: That's Not How Chameleons Work

Notes:

Just for clarity's sake, Raph's still the leader in this fic. He's been the leader the entire time, never stopped. Splinter's line at the tail-end of the season 2 finale was him making a joke. Not once in the entire movie did anyone actually refer to Leo as the leader, he only stepped up as such when Raph was out of commission, and when Raph was around he didn't behave any differently. I'm justified.

"But in the deleted scenes they said-"

The deleted scenes were deleted (heartbreakingly, in some cases), so they're not any more canon than first-draft character designs.

I'm going to bring this whole debacle up in the fic itself, so it's not like I'm trying to ignore it, don't worry. I just ultimately feel like this last-second leader switch paints Splinter (and Raph a little bit) in a very poor light (can elaborate on that later if anyone wants). I can also see ways that maintaining the status-quo could lead to interesting things, so I'm taking a different road.

Additionally and so so much more importantly, the breathtakingly FANTASTIC poster art was done by thewiglesswonder. Her writing is some of the best I've encountered in years and her art is consistently fabulous, and she does nice things like draw for me. Love that woman.

So! Two-time world saving champs! Exciting, right? Took down a guy possessed by all-powerful demon armor, and then kneecapped a full-scale alien invasion. Practically back to back, it had to be said. (That’s what you call “doin’ it Hamato style,” in case anyone was wondering.)

Now, big question everyone was asking – practically screaming to be answered (your voices were heard, never fear!): Where to go from there??

Well, as it turned out… semi-normalcy. Maybe not the most glamorous answer, but listen, let’s all revert back to the “saved the world twice, BACK TO BACK” –bit, alright? They’d earned some lower stakes! Honestly the biggest thing that’d changed was that, um… they’d lost Casey.

Junior. Casey Senior was as ever-present and ever-loud as she always was.

And okay, they hadn’t lost-lost Casey. At least not according to Draxum, they hadn’t. So unless he was pulling a “your dog’s not dead, he’s just living on a farm in Connecticut now!” kind of scam, Casey was fine. He just wasn’t with them. 

…technically.

They’d all had a solid few weeks together. They’d showed Casey around New York, introduced him to his mom (she was instantly and irremovably attached from the word “hi”), they grabbed many, many slices together – life’d been good. And then one night, as they were trying to introduce Casey to their top ten favorite Jupiter Jim movies, a big, glowing yellow portal had opened underneath him, and swallowed him up, chair and all. 

And then he was gone.

Obviously, this resulted in mass-hysteria. Because oh dear God, oh sweet Jesus, what the literal hell. Barry, who Mikey had roped into family movie night only mostly against his will, had walked in with snacks right as Mikey was trying to rip a Mystic-Hands-Hole in the floor to get Casey back. 

After untangling the multiple (mostly shouted) accounts of what had happened, he assured them, in that gruff, “you’re all idiots and every single day I question why I put up with this” way of his, that Casey was fine. Based on everyone’s descriptions, what he’d just been sucked into had been a time portal. He’d likely just returned back to his real time. 

Casey Sr., who’d unquestionably been the most distraught out of everyone, demanded why a time portal would just happen to open right then, after just over three weeks of nothing. Barry said that someone from Casey’s time had obviously opened one to bring him back. It must have just taken them a while to either pinpoint where he was, or else to muster up the oomph for it. 

This was met with several people pointing out that – by Casey’s own admission – there’d been no one left to open a portal like that back in his time. Everyone had been killed by the Krang.

Draxum scoffed. “You mean the Krang that you all stopped? And are all still very alive after doing so?”

(Draxum had been out of state during the Krangs’ invasion. Some kind of Lunch Lady Expo, or something. It was widely suspected that him not being present to help with that whole situation had played a heavy part in him caving to Mikey’s pleas to come watch movies with them.)

Donnie had popped in at around this point to argue about a million inconsistencies with the space-time blahblahblah. Barry mostly brushed him off. 

“If science was applicable to mystic time-travel, it wouldn’t work at all,” he’d explained grumpily. “After you’d all stopped the Krang, your future selves would’ve had no reason to send your friend back to tell you TO stop the Krang. Which means you probably wouldn’t have stopped the Krang. So then years later you would’ve decided to send a greasy teenager back in time to warn you, so then you’d stop them, so then you’d never send him back in the first place, so then you wouldn’t stop them— do you see the issue here? Mystically ripping a portal through time is its own process, with its own set of rules and pitfalls. Science doesn’t overlap with it.” 

(Donnie had been appalled.) 

When Casey Sr. butted in with demands of how to get Casey Jr. back, she was met with a curt (if imperceptibly apologetic), “you can’t.”

Apparently, time portals only worked in reverse. You couldn’t reach forward in time unless you had— well, Draxum had called it an “anchor,” but basically all that meant was you had to be from the time you were trying to reach forward to. Otherwise all you were doing was risking tearing yourself apart, and all for nothing. 

So that was the wrap on Casey Jr. Casey Sr. now spent most of her free evenings doing rounds of the city and dumpster-diving for free babies. Future-Casey Sr. had been very open with Junior that he’d been adopted; apparently she’d found him abandoned in an old dumpster while on a supply run. She’d then had to fight off – according to Casey Jr.’s retelling – “about fifty Krang-dogs with him cradled in her arms.” 

At his disappearance, present-day Casey Sr. had passionately declared that she would search every dumpster in New York until she’d found her baby boy again. No amount of “Case, that’s still a few years off” and “his parents might not even abandon him now that they don’t have to raise him in an apocalypse” could convince her to do otherwise.

Sad as the whole thing had been, acceptance was helped along by the knowledge that Casey was with people who cared about him as much as they did. Obviously. He was still with THEM, just different versions of them. (Or… something like that. Draxum’s explanation had been a little unclear.)

After that, it was back to business as usual. There were obviously still randos causing problems – the usual suspects, like Meat Sweats and Hypno and what’s-his-worm. The Krang invading hadn’t put the kibosh on that. Mostly though, the most pressing thing on the Mad Dogs’ docket was just… life stuff.

April’s journalism-thing was going well. She’d managed to get an internship at a news station right out of college. She was absolutely over the moon about it, if nervous as all hell. Which… fair. Apparently it had been the station Walton Rocks had worked at before he decided to become a full-time crook. Exactly why this was something April still cared about was a big gigantic question mark, but oh well. Whatever made her happy.

Speaking of college, Donnie had hacked his way into an online tech college. And then graduated early. With honors, because of course he had. Everyone chose not to ask too many questions about the “hows” or “the payments.” Again, at least he was happy. Mikey was sort of following their lead, albeit just by way of taking free art and cooking courses at a local community center. At least until he pinned down which psychology degree he wanted to go for, anyway. Barry had gifted him a cloaking brooch for it and everything (again, in his usual gruff af way).

Raph had a part-time day-gig at – get this – a dojo in the Hidden City. Yeah, it was kind of a strip-mall-y sort of place, and he was mostly only teaching kids the basics, but he loved it anyway. Always came home with cute stories about his students. Good for him, honestly.

And Leo was doing just fine, thanks for asking! Sure, he didn’t really have anything crazy in the works like his bros or April, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t keeping busy. Mostly with training and stuff, but he felt that was plenty important too. Nothing quite like a sequence of near-death experiences for you and everyone you love to snap things into perspective. Which, not to brag or anything, but he’d definitely leveled-up in the portal making department thanks to all that training. 

…so had Mikey, actually. It still took a lot out of him to open time portals or break through to different dimensions, but so long as he had a decent amount of support behind him (Draxum had thrown around the word “conductors” at one point), he could do it. And he could open short-range portals without even straining himself. No weapon needed, just his magical mystic hands! 

…which… kind of made Leo doing it seem a little… well, pointless. 

But it wasn’t about him! It was about working together as a team to keep people safe! That was the kind of lesson you only needed to learn once. So everything was fine! He was okay!

Anyway, bigger fish to worry about at the moment. Sorta. Well actually the phrase “bigger fish” was probably pretty subjective in this instance, all things considered, but it was something else to focus on, so…

---

The exotic pet store had been robbed. Robbed, by none other than Wilhelmina Dundruff, former art student, soon-to-be super thief! All she had to do was make her getaway and a new life was hers!

Which admittedly would have been a lot easier if the pet store’s stupid alarm would shut the hell up. Like Jesus, she was sprinting away as fast as she could, and it didn’t seem to be getting any quieter. All she’d done was break a window; you’d think the whole block was burning down with the racket it was making. She’d thought her eardrums were going to pop when she’d run in to grab what she’d intended to steal.

Mina rounded a corner, then immediately slowed to a walk. Nothing to see here, she was just your run-of-the-mill New Yorker, she had nothing to do with all the screaming alarms and approaching flashing lights. She definitely didn’t have stolen goods squirming in her holographic jacket’s pockets.

After maneuvering several blocks away from the scene of the crime, she nonchalantly walked into an alleyway, then ducked behind a dumpster. Hunkering down (and trying to ignore the smell and general grime of everything around her, ew), she finally took her hands out of her pockets to grin down at her prizes of the evening. 

Two squirming chameleons, and a container holding a weird, oversized, glowing green bug.

So… little factoid about art school that no one had bothered to fill her in on before the fact: It was a lot of work. She’d thought it was going to be like… “draw whatever you feel, offer a deep meaning, get praised, then meet up with the girls at Saks Fifth Avenue to pick out something cute for the party you were going to later.” Instead she got deadlines and portfolios and color theory. Worst of all, critics, critics, critics. She was a great artist! Her mother and nanny had always told her so! Where did those snobby “artÍsts” get off nitpicking her work?

She was regretting turning down her father’s offer to get her a job at his company, honestly. But like… it’d been one of those outdated nine-to-five deals. A “if you want more money you have to actually work the hours to make it, and yes they keep a stupidly close watch on whether you really worked the hours or not” -situation. She had a delicate constitution, she hadn’t wanted that kind of pressure.

But then it turned out that art school was even more pressure, so she was willing to reconsider.

Now, though, Daddy was refusing to get her the job like he’d promised. Something about how she’d “thrown a tantrum about wanting to be an artist,” and “you made a commitment young lady, you can’t quit now” and ugh. He was just being spiteful because she hadn’t immediately done things his way. 

All of her friends’ dads, who actually loved them, were willing to foot the bill without reducing them to slave labor. But noooo, her dad just had to be in love with that whole “good work ethic” scam… 

He’d made her a counter deal that, fine, he’d let her quit college, and he’d set her up in an apartment and cover “basic amenities” (read: he’d cover rent, wouldn’t let her starve, and was letting her have wifi), but only if she looked for a different job. Which was almost an even bigger spit in the face than not giving her the job he’d originally promised, honestly. 

The apartment was a one bedroom, and the kitchen and living room were combined. And what if she had to go to an event or a date or something, and none of her clothes were right for it? She wouldn’t be able to buy something more appropriate! Not unless she got a “job,” which would almost definitely pay way less than the job he was keeping from her!

It was all so heinously unfair. He claimed he was just trying to help her learn a “life lesson” (or some other bull), but she knew it was actually because he was punishing her for being a free spirit. He needed everything to be all structure and rules, and always stuck with the first decision he made. Mina went where her heart took her. This whole set-up was just her father trying to break her to be more like him.

But y’know what? That was fine. Mina had a hook-up.

There’d been a lot of weird rumors ever since the whole “alien invasion” thing. One of them being that, if you got bitten by a weird glowing bug, you’d mutate into the last animal you’d touched. She’d asked after those rumors. Batted her eyelashes at a few people. Listened to their dumb tangents until they told her what she needed to know. It all led to a candy shop, wherein she had to look the guy at the register in the eye and say “wink.” 

And then BOOM. Just like that the guy is actually a goat, and he’s presenting her with the huge, green mosquito she’d been asking for.

Her dad wanted her to work for her money. Fine. But if she was going to work, she wouldn’t be doing it for pennies, or wasting her life behind a desk somewhere. The bug still in its container was the key to bringing it all together.

The chameleons were also important to her plan, of course. They could blend into any background, which, once she used the bug to mutate herself, would mean she’d essentially be able to turn invisible. She was going to support herself by taking what she needed, and with them, she’d make sure no one would ever be able to catch her! 

Not wanting to waste another moment, Mina began aggressively rubbing the chameleons against her face.

---

Raph’s eye was driving him crazy.

It wasn’t that it hurt, which he supposed he should be happy about. At least, not on its own. It definitely had the capacity to make the rest of his head hurt, but that was really only if he tried to actually use it. If he kept it safe behind his eyepatch, he was more or less safe from that side-effect. It was more that it felt… goopy. Like he constantly had a cold in that eye and that eye only, and it had a permanent mucus-y film over it. No amount of rubbing could help clear it.

It hadn’t always been so bad, not at first. His eye had felt a little runny, his vision had been a little blurry, but nothing too terrible. Nothing he couldn’t deal with.

Then the colors came. 

The colors never stopped, and could only be seen with the one eye. Trying to use it alongside his normal eye gave him some of the worst migraines he’d ever had in his life, so he’d opted not to do that if he could help it.

When asked, he found he couldn’t really describe it. It just suddenly seemed like there were too many colors in everything he looked at. Some of which he couldn’t have described if he’d tried. Donnie went on to speculate he was seeing “shrimp colors;” apparently there was a certain kind of shrimp who could see extra colors that most other things didn’t even know existed. Raph wasn’t super amused when Mikey unthinkingly called him “lucky” over it.

Honestly, he almost wished the stupid Krang had just made him go blind rather than this. It was a massive pain in the shell.

…though he suspected his eye wasn’t the only thing the Krang had affected.

Leo was a lot more… responsible now, he supposed. Which should be a good thing, especially considering how he’d been acting right before the whole mess with the Krang started. It was just… it felt… excessive. Like there was “responsible” and then there was whatever Leo was doing. 

Probably.

That was the biggest crux of the situation: Raph didn’t actually have any proof that he was overdoing it. At least not anymore. He’d had a phase right after the invasion where he’d been training almost nonstop, but Dad had pulled an intervention and talked him down from it. After that, he seemed to have developed a pretty healthy work/play balance, at least as far as anyone could tell.

Didn’t stop Raph’s Overprotective Brother Senses from tingling off the chain. 

On top of that, there would be moments where he’d be talking with him, and he’d just get this look. Raph couldn’t say what the look was exactly, it came and went so quick, only that it wasn’t a very Leo-ish look.

And actually, he took back his earlier thought: The real crux of the situation was that he had no real way to broach the subject with Leo. Too direct and he’d brush it off with a joke. Not direct enough and he’d act like he hadn’t picked up on it. 

Raph just felt… stuck.

This probably wasn’t the time or place for it, though. Him, Leo, Donnie and Mikey had just come to a stop on a rooftop, ready to kick off evening patrol. Which, from the sounds of it (there were a lot of alarms blaring), was going to end up being a pretty busy night. Head in the game now; worry later.

“Okay,” Raph started, “everybody split up and look for anyone suspicious who might’ve caused all that.” A gesture in the general direction of the ruckus. “Donnie, you head east and try to get an aerial scope on things, Mikey, you can head—”

“—dibs on anywhere but the glowing green alley.”

Raph blinked, looking over to where Leo stood on the far edge of the building, staring down at the city below. As Raph came up behind him, he pointed across the street. The alley was definitely both glowing and green. 

Donnie moved to stand next to Leo on the building’s ledge, flipping his goggles down as he did. 

“Mystic energy’s off the scale down there,” he confirmed.

Leo rolled his eyes. “And here I was gonna guess a mini-rave…” 

(Donnie’s mini-glare was ignored.)

Raph’s brow furrowed (and then quickly smoothed out as soon as he realized what he was doing – “Raph Chasm,” friggin Leo). That glow definitely looked… familiar. Especially when combined with Donnie saying it had a lot of mystic energy…

“That’s not what I think it is, is it?” Mikey asked, sounding a little exasperated. “Didn’t we round up all the oozesquitos like, forever ago?”

“We rounded up all the ones we could find, ’Angelo,” Donnie corrected. “It’s perfectly plausible that we missed one or two. Whiiich come to think of it, means it’s also perfectly possible that the ones we missed went on to breed even more—”

“We’re not gonna find out what’s going on just by standing around talking about it,” Raph cut in. “Let’s check it out.”

With that, everyone leapt towards the buildings flanking the alley, then used the fire escapes to silently descend to groundlevel. There was a dumpster farther down, behind which the (now fading) green glow was coming from.

There were a lot of yelping and gagging sounds coming from behind the dumpster, too. Which… considering how painful mutations usually were…

Well, at least there was no question as to what was happening now.

“Oh God,” said a voice. Uh oh. “Oh fuck, oh Jesus—”

The voice was feminine, though Raph couldn’t tell if they were swearing from pain or if they were about to have a panic attack. Or, y’know. Both. Hopefully it was just the first one – lot easier to deal with, all things considered. 

“Hey, um, Miss?” Raph called out tentatively, stowing his sais (his brothers did the same with their weapons). “Are you okay back there—?”

“I’m fine!!” the girl said quickly. “I’m totally fine! Don’t come any closer! Don’t—!”

She very suddenly went dead silent – there was a conspicuous plap, but nothing else. 

Raph glanced at his brothers. Leo gave him a look that said, “oof, this is gonna be a rough one” and sucked his teeth. Mikey gave him a look that said, “we’ve really gotta help this poor girl.” Donnie gave him a look that said, “Emotional confrontations aren’t my forte, so if you don’t need me can I go home?”

Raph began slowly moving to look around the dumpster. “Miss, listen, I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I can sorta… guess what just happened to you? And believe it or not you’re not the first. Me and my brothers just wanna—”

He finally rounded the corner of the dumpster, and found a very large chameleon crouched on the ground. Her arms were splayed and her back was pressed flat against the wall behind her. (Her positioning herself like that was presumably the source of the plap.) Her eyes were wide, staring straight ahead and conspicuously not at him. Her mouth was pressed into a thin line. Generally, she looked like someone who was desperately trying not to be noticed.

Being a neon yellow lizard sitting up against a grimy brick wall, she wasn’t doing so good.

“Uh… Miss?”

Nothing. If anything, she hunkered into herself a little more. Raph threw a questioning look over to Leo, who was standing closest to him. He shrugged. He didn’t know either. 

Looking back, Raph tried again: “Miss, you know we can see you, right?”

A beat. “…no you can’t.”

“Um… we— we can though?”

She leaned just slightly further into the dumpster, positioning herself more into the corner between where it and the wall met. “No you can’t.”

“Wh— yes, we can. You’re a big lizard sitting next to the dumpster, now will you please just look at me?”

Hesitantly, her rightmost eye flicked up to meet his gaze (the left stayed staring fixedly right ahead of her).

“Thank you. Now listen—”

She screamed.

It occurred to Raph, as he stood there frantically trying to shush a hysterical lizard woman, that – even though she was definitely a mutant now – she obviously had never encountered any others before that exact moment. So, with that in mind, seeing them right now was probably just as big of a shock as (presumably) getting randomly bitten by a bug and growing scales. 

Whoops. 

For better or worse, Donnie was on the case. He leveled his tech-bō at the screaming lizard girl, and before any of the rest of them could react a foamy something shot from the end, completely covering her mouth. Her screams were instantly cut off, leaving nothing but muffled sounds of alarm as she began tugging at the foam to free herself.

“Do not be afraid,” he said (the little twirl he gave his bō was maybe a little unnecessary considering the circumstance). “What you currently find yourself entrapped in is the patented Genius Built™ Obstructive Silencing Agent, or ‘OSA Foam’ for short.” 

Tucking his tech-bō away, Donnie took a step closer to the girl. “Specifically, this is OSA Foam version 3.04. It’s completely nontoxic – you’re welcome – and will organically dissolve in about a minute. This is by design, of course, version 3.08 can hold for several minutes, and 3.12 can go as long as an hour—!”

“Donnie,” Leo cut in. “Panicking girl, life changed forever, four strangers cornering her in a dark alley. Not the time.”

Donnie deflated, sulking. “Don’t panic, we mean you no harm, we’re just like you, etcetera, etcetera,” he recited tonelessly. 

Good enough. It made room for Mikey to take point, at least.

“We know this is a lot,” he said gently, nudging past Donnie to kneel in front of the girl (she’d gone from yellow to a blazing orange now, fittingly). “And we’re sorry for scaring you. In our defense, it’s kinda hard not to make an impression considering…” He made a wide, general gesture at the group, “…this whole situation.”

The girl’s colors began to slowly fade into something more neutral. Encouraged, Mikey finished,  “We swear, though, we just want to help you out, okay?”

The chameleon stared at him, then blinked as she realized the foam was starting to fizzle to nothing on her face. When it was gone, she smacked her lips a few times, presumably to check if she had full use of her mouth again.

“Was that stuff bubblegum flavored??” she asked, thankfully looking a bit less distressed (though still plenty confused).

“It was, thank you for noticing!” Donnie confirmed, looking pleased and hip-checking Mikey out of the way. “Currently OSA Foam only comes in two flavors, peppermint and bubblegum, but I’m hoping to have something fruity synthesized by the end of the month? I’m thinking grape, maybe a nice strawberry lemonade if I’m feeling fancy? It also acts as a moisturizer, so your face should feel—”

“Donnie.”

“Ugh, fine.”

The girl was glancing around at them, calmer now, though still obviously not super okay with the whole scenario. Finally, she asked the question they’d all known was coming: “What are you guys?”

“We’re mutants, just like you,” Mikey said, returning Donnie’s hip-check in full (Donnie stumbled a few paces, making offended noises as he went). After a second’s thought, Mikey corrected, “Well, not just like you – we’re turtles!”

“Also if you wanna be technical about it, the official term is ‘yokai,’” Leo added, crossing his arms behind his head now that it was clear he wouldn’t need to whip out his swords at a moment’s notice. “But I mean that’s really only for when you wanna be formal.”

She nodded slowly, looking at them one at a time. “And were you guys… also bitten by a green bug, or…?”

“Nope! Well— sorta? It’s a little complicated on our end,” Mikey said, rubbing the back of his head. “But the point is that you aren’t alone in this. There’s actually a ton of mutants and yokai all around New York, and a lot of them started out as humans too.” He stuck his hand out. “I’m Mikey.”

The girl hesitated a second, then accepted his hand to shake it. 

“Mina Dundruff,” she said, letting Mikey turn the handshake into a pull to get her back on her feet.

“Nice to meet you, Mina.” Gesturing, Mikey added, “This is Raph, Leo, and Donnie, by the way.”

Mina nodded slowly, glancing at them in succession. “Soo do you guys, like, live around here then, or…?”

“Uhhh you could say that, yeah…” Raph said, glancing downwards. Honestly, if they went a few streets down, they’d probably be able to drop straight into the lair. “What about you? We could, y’know, walk you home if you need…?”

“I think any potential roommates here are gonna have enough to process with the one mutant reptile,” Leo put in, dissuading. “They probably don’t need us on top of that.”

“Ugh, you’d probably be doing me a favor if you could give my dad a heart attack,” Mina groaned, arms falling limp in an exasperated slouch. “Would probably keep him from sending me back to Eastlaird…”

“Oh! Our best friend just graduated from there!” Mikey said. “What are you majoring in?”

An eyeroll (her eyes each rolled at separate speeds). “Art.”

Mikey perked. “That’s so cool! How is Eastlaird’s art program, actually?”

Mina scoffed. “It’s great if you like a neverending workload and constant putdowns via ‘peer-reviews.’”

The air-quotes and tone were enough to make Mikey deflate.

Recollecting herself, Mina glanced at them all again, her head tilting questioningly. “So do you guys have like… special Mutant Vision or something where you can see other mutants even when they’re invisible?”

Raph blinked. Glanced at Leo, then Donnie and Mikey. They looked as confused as he felt. He looked back at Mina. “Um… wha?”

“Just now? When I was behind the dumpster?” she said, like it was obvious. “You saw me even though I’d gone invisible? Is that like… a thing for all mutants, or just you guys?

“…Mina, you weren’t— uh. You weren’t invisible.”

Mina blinked herself now. She looked like someone had just told her to solve a mile-long math problem, but refused to let her use a calculator for it. “I… I totally was, though? Like I felt it? My skin felt all weird, and chameleons can blend into any background so you can’t see them, so I had to have been—”

“That’s actually a widespread myth,” Donnie interjected. “Chameleons cannot blend into any background. They have effective camouflage for their natural environment as-is, and can increase or decrease the amount of melanin sitting at the surface of their skin to blend in further depending on how bright or dark their surroundings are. The more wild color changes for which they’re famous are actually used to stand out and/or create warning displays.”

“…shut up,” Mina finally said, after a solid three seconds of staring at him. 

“I will not,” Donnie replied flatly, “everything I’ve said is factually correct.”

Another three seconds as Mina stared at him, and then they all jumped as she wailed, dropping to her knees again.

“All of this was for nothing??!” she demanded no one in particular (or at least no one Raph was aware of).

Ooouuummmm what?

Raph was about to ask; he ended up not needing to: “Do you know how long it took to find that stupid candy shop to buy that stupid bug? Or find a pet store that sells chameleons? And for what?? A ‘warning display’? How’m I gonna be a super thief now—?!”

“You intentionally mutated yourself?” Mikey asked.

“To be a thief??” Raph demanded.

“Should’ve done your research first,” Donnie said apathetically, shrugging.

Leo, by this point, had cocked his head to look back up the alley. “By any chance, did you happen to actually buy the chameleons from that pet store? Or are you the reason for all those, y’know, wailing sirens?”

Mina, apparently realizing she may have said too much, didn’t immediately answer, looking shifty. Raph, not bothering to wait for her, clarified again, “Mina, did you say you were planning to become a ‘super thief’?”

“Oh take the stick out of your—! …whatever it is turtles use to crap!” she snapped, shiftiness scooting aside for annoyance as she glared. “Why the hell would any of you care, anyway? What, are you with the mutant police or something?”

“I mean… not officially or anything,” Raph said, shrugging a little helplessly, “they pretty much stick to the Hidden City. We sorta handle up here, though, so if you’re gonna start stealing from places—”

“There are MUTANT POLICE?!” Mina balked, shooting back up to her feet and once more retreating into her corner between the wall and the dumpster. “Listen, you don’t have anything on me, I didn’t even technically do anything yet—”

“You literally just admitted to breaking and entering and stealing two chameleons,” Leo pointed out. (The chameleons were, at this point, unhurriedly climbing the dumpster.)

“Mina, listen,” Raph interjected, putting his hands up, “we’re not going to do anything yet. We just think it’d be a really bad idea for you to go down this road, because— because then we would have to do something—” 

“Is that a threat?!”

“Wha—? No! I’m just saying—”

“Well I’m just saying to stay the hell away from me!”

“Mina, we’re not—”

“I said stay away—!!”

And just like that, there was an explosion. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. Mina (and everything in a twelve-foot radius surrounding her) was gone. In its place was a swirling mess of color that physically hurt to look at. Raph’s eye snapped shut as he stumbled back, surprised and unable to look at whatever rainbow-colored nightmare Mina had just made. He heard Leo, Donnie, and Mikey all do the same, yelling out in surprise and pain on either side of him. He heard Mina repeating “holy shit” over and over somewhere in front of them. 

And then it struck him there was something familiar about all those colors. Hesitantly, he lifted his eyepatch, and suddenly everything looked perfectly fine.

And he got a clear view of Mina running away. 

“Oh man— guys, she’s making a break for it, we gotta—”

“I can’t see!” Mikey interrupted, sounding panicked. Looking back, Raph saw him holding his face with both hands. 

“I can’t either!” Donnie put in, bracing himself against the side of one of the buildings flanking him. “It’s all just a mess of color!”

That wasn’t good. That wasn’t good.

“Same here,” Leo added, “but I think it’s starting to fade. It’ll probably go away if we just leave it a minute— Raph? Did you say you saw her leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna go after her,” he said. “You guys gonna be—?”

“We’ll be fine, go.”

Raph didn’t need telling twice. Flipping his eyepatch to cover his good eye, he took off running.

Despite having a headstart, Mina wasn’t especially hard to track down. The fact that she was still spewing psychedelic colors and making anyone who looked at her temporarily blind definitely helped. No, see, the problem was that, after finding her, once she realized he was gaining, she made it very difficult to actually catch up to her.

Raph was used to scaling buildings and bouncing from rooftop to rooftop. Came with the territory. He was not used to civilians being able to do it just as good, if not better.

Mina had taken a sharp turn down a different alley and vaulted up a fire-escape like it was nothing at all, Raph in hot pursuit. She sprinted to the edge of the roof and pitched forward, putting her hands on the ledge to flip forward and sailing through the air to the next building. Raph, not having the time to show off, just jumped. This repeated for a couple buildings, with way more flips than Raph felt was necessary. Then again she was keeping ahead of him, so what did he know? 

“Where the heck did you learn all this?!” Raph called, still airborn from a leap.

“I’ve been in gymnastics since I was nine-years-old!” Mina barked back. “And stop following me, asshole!!”

“Why don’t you just be a gymnast then? You’re good! Really good! You don’t need to be a thief!”

“I didn’t WANT to be a gymnast!” she snarled, “I wanted to be an ARTIST!”

“So BE an artist and not a THIEF!!”

“Mind your own business!!”

Mina apparently realized that her current method wasn’t shaking him because she decided a different approach was necessary. She ducked into a skylight.

“Mina no—!” Raph tried, but it was too late. 

He almost faltered to a stop – going into buildings meant a high chance of running into people – but he pressed forward before he could dwell on it for too long. Judging by the rising cries of “oh God what’s going on I can’t see there’s too many colors it hurts” coming from below, it wasn’t likely anyone would get too good of a look at him anyway. He swung down after her.

Aaaand it was a restaurant. A pretty fancy looking one at that. He only had about half a second to take that fact in and orient himself before he had to dodge someone’s entree.

“Why aren’t you freaking out like everyone else?!” Mina demanded, lobbing what looked like honestly a really tasty dessert at him – had his reflexes been a little slower, Raph might’ve considered letting that one hit him in the mouth rather than duck underneath it. “How can you still see me?!”

“Long story,” he grumbled, sidestepping a plate of something he’d probably need Mikey to teach him how to pronounce. Chaos was breaking out all around them as restaurant goers continued to wail about the colors they were being forced to see. “Mina, listen, we can’t do this here, someone could get hurt—”

“Stop chasing me and we won’t have to ‘do this’ anywhere!” Mina insisted, flipping a whole table in between them as Raph made a move towards her before turning to rush the exit.

“You can’t just run around stealing things!” he tried, quickly dodging around the table and over to the door.

“Like hell I can’t!” Mina snapped, turning her head to glare over her shoulder at him as they ran down the street. “This might not be as good as being invisible, but I can make it work! They can’t stop me if they can’t look directly at me!”

“And the fact that you’re now a giant, real easy to identify CHAMELEON isn’t gonna be a problem at all?” Raph shot back, nearly overshooting yet another alleyway she’d ducked into, once again scaling a fire-escape to get to the roof.

“I haven’t worked out all the kinks yet!” she snarled down at him.

But here’s where she made her fatal mistake: When she’d turned to yell down at him, she wasn’t looking where she was putting her feet. So she stumbled just a bit when she tried to exit onto the roof. Which gave Raph exactly the opportunity he’d needed to finally catch up to her, and he managed to catch her by the arm.

And then catch her phone with his other hand. Somehow it’d managed to stay in her jacket pocket for all her flips and tricks, but her getting jostled by him grabbing her was apparently enough to make it slip out. It looked expensive, and Raph could attest to the woes of having even a mid phone fall and shatter. 

She turned, tried to wrench her arm free, then glared at him when she couldn’t. Truth be told, he wasn’t really sure what to do once he’d actually caught her. Like he’d said, he didn’t have any actual authority to make her stop. His go-to method for stopping crime was “fight until the perp wasn’t going to commit the crime anymore.” But like… usually the perp was taking swings at him before he even had a chance  to try to talk them out of it. (Thankfully. Raph knew what he was good at, and calm, reasonable persuasion wasn’t exactly topping that list.) It felt… uncomfortable and wrong to imagine trying to fight a random college girl with no combat training. But, again, persuasive he wasn’t, so how exactly was he supposed to—?

He was saved from trying to think of the right thing to say when he felt her phone buzz in his hand. The screen read “mom.” 

Raph stared at it for a second. Mina stared at it too.

And then – Wait! An idea!

Raph answered.

“Mrs. Dundruff…?” he asked hesitantly. 

“What the hell are you doing??” Mina hissed, grabbing for her phone. Raph twisted it out of her reach.

“No no, Mina’s fine, she’s right here,” Raph said, still dodging grabs. “But uhhh… sheeee’s kind of a giant chameleon now? Yeah, she stole some from a petstore and mutated herself with a glowing green bug? Because she wanted to be a ‘super thief’?”

Mina gasped. “Oh you ASSHOLE—!!”

“Yep, of course, she’s right here Mrs. Dundruff!” Raph said, finally letting go of Mina’s arm and passing her phone to her. “Your mom wants to talk to you.”

And with his civic duty done, Raph gave a little “good luck” wave and jumped from the roof. Mina’s furious cursing followed him down.

---

Leo, Donnie, and Mikey met him halfway to where he’d last left them.

“Did you catch her?” Mikey asked after they’d convened back on the roof they’d started on.

“Yeah,” Raph said, nodding. “Gave me a hell of a chase, though… apparently the gymnastics classes nowadays are next level.”

Leo tilted his head slightly. “Were you able to talk her out of her whole ‘super-thief’ plan?”

“No. She forced me to take drastic measures.”

Mikey and Donnie glanced at each other as Leo pressed, “‘Drastic’?”

Raph nodded. “I told her mom.”

A beat as what he’d said sunk in, and then Leo snorted. “Oh, you barbarian you.”

“She left me no choice,” Raph said, shrugging. “Desperate measures were called for.”

“Speaking of ‘desperate,’ I am presently in desperate need of some sustenance,” Donnie interjected. “We’ve intercepted at least one crime tonight—”

(“And brought the chameleons back to the petstore while you were tailing Mina!” Mikey put in.)

“—so what say you all to calling it a wrap and getting a late-night special at Run of the Mill?”

“Sounds good to me,” Leo said, stretching both arms over his head. Raph’s brow furrowed when he noticed him twitch at the stretch’s peak, and he didn’t smooth it over this time. “Last one there pays!”

“No thank you!” Mikey said, already swinging away.

“Yeah, I concur, no thanks!” Donnie added, flying after him.

Leo was in the process of taking out his swords to open a portal when Raph noticed him flinch.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching over to put his hand on his shoulder, “you good?”

There it was again, that split second of— of something flitting across his face before the familiar grin spread across it. “Uhh yeah? I’m great, same as always. Why do you ask?”

“You just—” 

You feel off. I don’t know how to explain it but I KNOW something’s wrong, even when you’re smiling. It’s been like this since the Krang. We’ve talked before but if something else is wrong please just tell me Leo I want to help—

“You… you kinda flinched just now. When you were taking out your swords? And then before when you were stretching you looked like something was happening there too. So um… y’know, are you… good?”

Leo rolled his eyes, putting on a long-suffering look. “Ugh, my shell’s been driving me nuts lately. Like a weird prickly feeling when I move? I mean I’m fine, it’s not all the time, just when I move wrong.”

Raph must’ve looked more worried than he meant to, because again Leo insisted, “I’m fine, really.”

“Is that all? Just your shell, I mean?”

Leo hesitated. He played it off alright, but since Raph was watching closely he noticed all the same. “Yeah. Totally. Like I said, I’m great.”

Raph didn’t say anything. Just looked at him.

“…I mean… I’ve been having weirder dreams than usual lately, so sleeps kinda been a little ehhhhh, but other than that—”

“What kind of ‘weird dreams’?” Raph asked. 

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” Leo said, smile back in place. “C’mon, let’s get to Run of the Mill before Donnie and Mikey order something weird and avant grande-sized or whatever. ‘Last one there pays’ is still in effect, so vamanos!”

Rather than portal away, Leo instead took to deftly maneuvering across the rooftops, leaving Raph behind.

Not really thinking about it, he rubbed his patch again. Watching Leo go, he wondered what life would’ve looked like if it had remained Krang-free.

---

Admittedly, he’d undersold things a little when he’d told Raph his shell only prickled “when he moved wrong.” It wasn’t technically a lie, it was just that “moving wrong” tended to involve most day-to-day movements. Also, it wasn’t so much his shell as it was… under it. Like between his shell and the meat underneath. It was a really uncomfortable and really weird feeling.

But okay, here’s the thing: He’d gotten punched through a pretty thick sheet of rock. Not into, THROUGH. With his shell taking the brunt of it. And be all their shittiness remembered, the Krang could hit hard. It made sense for him to have like… lasting nerve damage or something, right? No point in getting everyone worked up over something they couldn’t fix. Hopefully if he just ignored it, he’d either eventually adjust or it would go away on its own.

(Even if so far, it only seemed to have gotten worse.)

By the time they all got back to the Lair, Dad had already turned in for the night (nice thing about crossing the threshold into adulthood – no more curfews). The darkness and stillness that had swallowed the Lair in the absence of his droning commercials left them whispering to each other as they stuck their leftovers in the fridge and everyone bid everyone else good night. Leo could have stayed up and chatted a bit more, personally, but majority consensus had been reached: They were all whooped, and therefore, bed.

Still, he wasn’t overly eager to try to sleep. See, he may have also fudged the truth about the level of “weird” his dreams had been reaching recently, too. Namely, they weren’t actually especially “weird.”

They were about the prison dimension. He’d go to sleep and find himself back there, floating through the nothing, completely alone. He'd stare at dark, looming figures in the distance, and he'd know down to the bottom of his heart that this was it. There was no getting out this time. No one was coming for him.

It was enough to make him want to just—

Leo shook the thought out of his head before it could finish, spitting out a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink. Was he putting off going to sleep by any means necessary? A little. But he liked being able to chew his pizza over needing to blend it up and drink it, so he’d argue that taking a second to observe proper dental hygiene was a perfectly respectable way to do that. (Also he wouldn’t have been able to go to bed anyway if he hadn’t brushed his teeth first. He couldn’t fall asleep without a minty mouth. Age-old habit.)

He lifted his head to see his reflection in the mirror, and gave it a hard look. He was being dumb, honestly. It wasn’t like he had the dreams every night, and he needed to sleep. If he didn’t sleep, he wouldn’t have the energy to fight. If he couldn’t fight, he wouldn’t be able to do his job properly. If he couldn’t do his job properly—

Leo left the bathroom, and marched himself to bed.

---

Raph had bet April she couldn’t eat the entire salami in under thirty seconds. A sucker’s bet, really, and Leo couldn’t work out what had possessed him to make it. They all knew how April felt about her lunchmeats – this would be child’s play.

Pop and Mikey were trying to watch an infomercial for some industrial-grade air fryer on the projector behind them, but from what Leo could hear Donnie kept interrupting to critique the actors’ performances. Classic Donnie. 

Movement to his right caught Leo’s eye, pulling his attention away from April chowing down on her salami like a paper shredder would an unneeded quarterly report. A smile pulled itself across his face as he did.

“Gram-Gram!” he exclaimed, surprised but not unhappy as she continued to approach him. “I didn’t know you’d be visiting today! Hey guys, look who it—!”

Gram-Gram was clutching his face in both her hands. Her expression was lighted by the blue of the portal he’d just opened and Donnie’s machines surrounding them. She looked… frantic.

“Anatawa hitorijanai,” she said, looking him directly in the eyes. 

“Gram-Gram—” Leo started, trying to gently pry himself out of her grip. He couldn’t do this right now – his brothers, Dad, they needed him, he had to help fight Shredder—

“Anatawa Hitorijanai,” she repeated, gripping his face tighter. She sounded downright desperate now. “Anatawa hitorijanai, anatawa hitorijanai—”

---

Leo’s eyes snapped open and his heart pounded. 

He’d seen movement. Out of the corner of his eye, right as he woke up, something darted out of view somewhere behind him where he couldn’t see it.

It took him a second to process the implications of this, and his heart beat even harder.

He was lying on his back.

There was no “behind him.”

Notes:

Remember my buddy Wig from up top? Gal who made the fantastic poster? Yeah. She's also the one who gave me the idea for, and I quote, "anatawa hitorijanai (menacing)." Seriously, love that woman.

Chapter 3: Subcutaneous Intrusion

Notes:

I had to fight myself not to title this chapter "CRAAAAWLING INNN MY SKIIINNNN" like I named the doc...

Leo sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his thighs, palms pressed together between his knees, left leg jiggling. He looked around his upended room, and tried to talk himself into being calm. 

He’d spent the last three hours looking into every possible nook and/or cranny that his room had to offer, and he hadn’t found anything. Absolutely nada. Obviously. He’d had a weird, kinda creepy dream, woke up still on edge, and before he’d completely come to he’d imagined he’d seen something.

And then completely freaked out and tore his room apart over nothing. Smooth, ’Nardo.

Leo looked away from the corner he’d been staring into, eyes going to the floor. He knew he was a lot of things (and he was trying to get better about all of them, honestly!), but he was acutely aware that even at his worst, he’d never been especially paranoid. A little excitable sometimes, yeah, sure, but generally speaking if something felt off, he was usually pretty on the money about what. (He’d cite calling that Big Mama had been bad news until the day something finally put him in the ground, for example.)

He’d been at this for three hours. He was definitely awake by now. If he’d just gotten spooked by a bad dream and reacted because he’d still been half asleep… why did he still feel so gross and jumpy?

He raised his head to look around his room again. Silence. No movement, no one else there with him. He was unquestionably alone in a very messy room.

Which, honestly, should’ve been comforting. What was he hoping for, to look up and see some kind of masked slasher-killer standing in the doorway? A crunched up Samara-expy hanging upside-down in the corner of the ceiling? Why was it so hard to accept he was wrong, it wasn’t like it had never happened it before…

Leo forced himself to take a deep breath in, bringing his hands up to vigorously rub his face as he exhaled.

His intuition was clearly just as fucked up as his shell, that’s all this was. Which, hey, no shame in that, right? Physical damage and mental damage went hand-in-hand with each other. It made sense for him to be a wreck on all fronts considering… everything.

The thought of ‘might as well try to get whatever sleep you can with the time you have left’ popped up, but he batted it away just as quick as it’d come. He wasn’t… he wasn’t really in the mood for sleep anymore.

‘Go be productive and get some training in then,’ was the next suggestion, but just like the first he smacked it down. Odds were high someone would either hear him and come to investigate, or he’d lose track of time again and get caught when everyone else started to wake up. Then, because he didn’t usually make a habit of being up before literally everyone else, they’d ask questions. And he’d have to look them in the eye and say he’d gotten spooked over a dream (that wasn’t even that bad, comparatively speaking).

And then they’d give him that look. The one that made him feel like he was made of glass, and that everyone and the kitchen freaking sink could tell he was too much of a klutz to keep himself from shattering, so better keep an eye on him before he does something stupid again—

He shook his head, pushing off his bed and heading towards the nearest bit of mess.

This was dumb. He was being dumb. They were his family for crying out loud. There was no “look” – when someone you cared about was upset or having a rough time, you felt bad for them. Duh. That’s all it was.

(Typical Leo. Just had to make everything about him, when the whole situation would be completely his fault for making people worry in the first place. Self-centered little—)

Anyway, the hell was he thinking? “Go back to bed,” “go train,” his room looked like a bomb had gone off. If he wasn’t going to go back to sleep, he needed to clean his stinkin room.

He started shoving bits of this and that into places (didn’t really matter where, just so long as it was off the floor), and told himself he was just being crazy for still having the creeps.

---

By the time Leo deemed it a respectable enough time to leave his room, he was… wobbly, to put it generously. But this wasn’t his first rodeo when it came to sleep-depravation (and hey, at least his room was clean again!). He’d be fine. The important thing was he’d left no evidence.

He was halfway through making himself a cup of coffee (very necessary in maintaining the illusion of alertness in situations like this) when he was nearly jolted into dropping his mug by a loud “LEO!”

(To be fair, a near-heartattack also gave the illusion of alertness, so. Yeah, not ideal or appreciated, but okay fine he’d withhold complaints. For now.)

Turning, he was met with the sight of Raph practically bouncing with excitement behind him. Raph was definitely the most ‘morning person’ of all the persons present, but even for him this was a little much. So alright, color Leo intrigued.

“What’s up, Big Brother?” he asked, readjusting his grip on his coffee. “Just happy to see me? I mean I know I’m literally the most joy-inspiring person here, but yeesh, little excessive, don’t you think? You keep this up and you’re gonna give me a big head.”

Rather than the eyeroll he’d been expecting, Raph’s excitement immediately died once he got a good look at him. Leo’s stomach dropped.

“Are you okay, Leo? You look… rough.”

Leo propped up his grin against his desire to not talk about that, and raised an eyebrow sarcastically. “Uh, I look great, thanks? Or at least a hell of a lot better than you.” He used the hand not holding his mug to punch Raph in the shoulder good-naturedly. “Besides, it’s not about me – you’re the one who came up all excited, now tell me what over.”

Raph looked disconcertingly unconvinced. Still, after a second he finally supplied, “Donnie says he might be able to fix this whole situation,” while gesturing at his bad eye.

Leo blinked. “Wait, really? Finally?”

“I’m sorry, ‘finally’?”

Attention drawn over Raph’s shoulder, Leo saw Donnie and Mikey entering the kitchen behind him. Donnie looked righteously offended.

Well, if Raph wasn’t going to give an eyeroll this morning…

“I mean it’s been over three years,” Leo pointed out.

“Scoff. ‘Three years’ without a single frame of reference to work with!” Donnie insisted. “The biggest issue with Raph’s eye is that he’s seeing colors on a spectrum I can’t even comprehend. My understanding of color is limited to a spectrum of around seven colors total.” Hands on his hips (and scoffing again, albeit without the verbal indicator), he finished, “I can’t pull solutions out of nowhere without understanding what I’m working with! I’m a man of science, not a miracle worker!”

Leo sipped his coffee, expression flat. “Uh huh. So what’s changed now?”

“Mina,” Donnie said triumphantly. At Leo’s raised, uncomprehending brow, he went on, pleased and self-important, “As I said, I didn’t previously have any frame of reference to what Raph’s been experiencing with that eye. However, as discussed last night—” (Raph had recounted the entire chase with Mina over their pizza) “—Raph and Raph alone was able to see through Mina’s ‘Rainbow of Doom’ power yesterday. Having been granted a peek at such myself, I now do, in fact, definitively have a reference to work with!”

Leo’s other brow mirrored the first. “That’s… great and all, but uh… are you forgetting that that ‘peek’ basically made you blind for ten minutes, Don?”

“Au contraire, my small-thinking friend; the memory of exactly that is what’s spurred my thoughts into motion! You see—”

And just like that, everything out of Donnie’s mouth turned into “adults from The Peanuts” noises. It was sort of incredible, really – Leo wasn’t trying to not listen, it was like his ears had a defensive maneuver in place whenever Donnie shifted into Science-Mode. Were his eyes glazing over? It felt like his eyes were glazing over.

“—which is exactly why—” (oh! he was speaking normal words again!) “—if I can get the aforementioned compound and then get another look at Mina’s Rainbow of Doom for a test-run, I ought to be able to create an implant or holo-spec – not sure which yet, we’ll see were the materials take me –that will let Raph switch between our normal color spectrum and his shrimp spectrum at will!”

Raph had resumed his happy near-bouncing, apparently unable to stop himself. “I wouldn’t need to wear a patch anymore!” he said, beaming. “Well I mean, I would, sorta, but I’d be able to see out of it! I’d have my depth-perception back! I could chuck Laceface around again!”

Mhm, yeah, okay – Raph was too adorably hyped to not make this top-priority. Leo threw back the remainder of his coffee, before slamming the mug back down on the counter. Wiping off his mouth with the back of the other hand, he asked, “So where do we get this ‘compound’?”

---

Top-side, apparently, not that Leo supposed he should be surprised. If Donnie had already had access to the compound, he wouldn’t have wasted time talking about it beforehand. He’d have worked through the night and then either presented Raph with his present at breakfast or announced they needed to go hunt down a chameleon so he could test it out. Leo would accept his “asked an obvious question, got an obvious answer” award.

Getting it wasn’t super tricky, which was nice – do a little sneaky-sneak into the lab Donnie specified they raid, act as cover as Donnie nabbed a sample, then ninja themselves outta there. Quick, simple little outing – they’d be home before brunch!

…or that had been the plan at least. Really, they should know by now not to bother with those.

The first half went fairly smoothly, all things considered – the “sneaky-sneak, raid, and evade” part, that was. What a twist! Usually if something were to go wrong, it would have happened somewhere in there. But no, they actually ran into issues on their way home.

Well, maybe “issues” was a bit strong a word for it. “Distraction” probably fit better. Either way:

After Draxum had gotten Mikey a cloaking brooch, Todd – thinking that it was just a nifty idea – had gifted the rest of the fam with brooches of their own as a fun little surprise. Apparently he knew a guy who knew another guy who made cloaking brooches, and really really loved lemonade. So after having cleared the danger-zone, they were able to make their way back to the Lair at a completely casual pace, looking like any other humans. It was as they were crossing the first street on their way home that Mikey exclaimed, “Omigosh is that D.B. Cooper??”

Understandably, everyone was a little thrown.

“Um, ’Angelo,” Donnie began, gently guiding him out of the street he’d stopped dead in the middle of, “come again, now?”

Mikey, who’s head hadn’t swiveled away from where he was staring, pointed in the same direction of such. “That guy over there,” he explained. “Tell me he’s not a dead ringer for D.B.!”

Now safely out of the road, they all looked. The man Mikey was pointing to was tall and broad-shouldered. Long dark coat, short dark hair, shades… looked a littllllle huffy, one might say? Not familiar looking by any stretch of the word, at least not to Leo he wasn’t. 

Or Raph, apparently. “Uhh… Mikey?” he asked. “Who’s ‘D.B. Cooper’?”

Finally looking away from the man across the street, Mikey turned to Raph, rocking his brow at him. “Dan Cooper?” he tried. “Most infamous air pirate of the twentieth century? Successfully ransomed the passengers on a plane for $200,000 before parachuting away, never to be seen again? NORJAK??”

Blank stares.

“…guys we fight crime, and yet none of y’all know about one of the biggest unsolved True Crime cases in the country??”

“That guy looks nothing like a pirate,” Leo put in skeptically, gesturing back at the man.

Mikey briefly did an impression of a startled fish.

Raph looked back over to the guy, who was presently talking to some other besuited dude. “You said you think he’s some kinda criminal? Do you think we should…?”

Mikey shook his head. “I don’t think he is the guy – that happened like fifty years ago? Mans is probably dead by now – I just think he looks like the guy. Or— y’know, every police sketch they’ve ever released of what he probably looked like.” He shrugged. “Trust me, the resemblance is crazy.”

Raph tilted his head. “Huh… take your word for it, I guess.”

Leo, meanwhile, had gone back to staring at the guy. Thus, a realization came a-knockin’.

“That’s… that’s actually a lot of suits over there,” he pointed out, doing a quick headcount. At least twelve, all sort of flitting around one spot. Then, noticing something else, “On that car over there, isn’t that the symbol that was all over the, um… the government trucks that came to clean up after…?”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Everyone went quiet, glancing between themselves uneasily. The black car across the street was stamped with a red circle surrounding an eagle clutching a triangle across its door. They all saw it.

There was a beat. Leo glanced around. Not seeing anyone paying particularly close attention to them, he ever so casually began meandering closer to the suits.

“Leo,” Raph hissed, making a furtive effort to take hold of the back of the blue shirt the cloaking brooch had put him in. Leo dodged the grab just as furtively. “What are you doing.”

A good question, honestly. If those people were who they figured them to be, that meant they were probably working with/for the government. Which, according to every “alien comes to modern-day earth” sci-fi flick any of them had ever seen, meant that they’d probably be a little leery of anyone they encountered who wasn’t thoroughly human. Which, cloaking brooch or not, Leo definitely wasn’t. It was anywhere from stupid to unsafe to be moving closer to them.

So he should move away then, right? Except for some reason seeing those guys now was… Leo didn’t really have the word for it. Off-putting? Not quite anxiety-inducing, even if he did feel like his body was buzzing now. Whatever it was, he was very aware that it would get worse if he didn’t find out what exactly the deal was.

(Because that was smart; dive straight into a potentially bad situation just because he was curious. Impulsive, arrogant—)

“There has to be a reason they’re here now; I just wanna see what’s going on,” Leo mumbled back, not stopping but slowing a bit, maybe just a little guiltily. “I’m just moving to get off the street before I go ninja-mode, I swear. Total stealth.”

Raph stared at him another second, glanced around himself, then stuffed his fists into the pockets of his cloak-pants, and strolled after him. Mikey and Donnie followed suit.

The car was parked fairly close to an alleyway, not unlike the one they’d met Mina in the night prior. Circling the block (which helpfully took them out of the suits’ immediate line of sight),they were able to approach from the other end. Hunkering down in the shadows, they heard D.B. Cooper Clone ask, “And you’re positive we cleared all of it from the area?”

“Affirmative, sir,” said another guy. “We’ve had three separate teams go in, one after the other, to sweep the area and ensure nothing was missed. We’re clear.”

D.B. nodded shortly. “That’s something, I suppose.” Then, huffing (HA he was huffy, Leo called it!), he pinched the bridge of his nose, displacing his shades slightly. “Over three years and we’re still getting readings on this filth, what an absolute disgrace…”

Leo glanced around at his brothers, specifically at Donnie. Readings? he mouthed, hoping to see some kind of understanding flash in his eyes. All he got was a shrug.

“We’re doing the best we can, sir—”

“Well, ‘the best’ does dickall to clean up alien tumors around the city, now doesn’t it?”

Oh. Well. That made things a little clearer.

Leo blinked hard, and once again they all looked at each other, this time decidedly more wide-eyed.

Alien? As in Krang? None of them had seen tooth nor tentacle of any Krang-anything since the invasion. Not after guys like this (these guys specifically, from the sounds of it) had started cleaning up after them, anyway. Leo’s heart was beating way, way harder than it maybe needed to.

More grumbling from D.B. “Could actually make some headway here by now, but no, Xeinos would rather play house with a monstrosity…”

“He’s still studying the captive alien then, sir—?”

“We’re in a public area, don’t run your damned mouth!”

The other guy muttered an apology. D.B. said something else to him, but Leo didn’t catch what. The prickling that had been in his shell for the last few days had come back. Already distracting, but apparently it decided it wasn’t enough of a nuisance.

It had evolved from prickling to burning.

The gross, jittery feeling that had been with him since last night got worse, and a pit formed in his stomach.

What they were hearing now wasn’t news. They’d all watched the government whosits load up the last Krang and ship it off to who knew where. This – what he was feeling – this was just bad timing, nothing more then that. Crappy coincidence. Play it cool. Play it cool. Don’t let whatever this was show on his face—

There was a call of “Agent Bishop!” from somewhere further down. Both men looked over, and then moved out of sight towards whoever had drawn their attention.

For a third time, everyone looked at each other (play it cool—), and then silently moved as one away from the scene.

---

Several hours later and Leo lay on his plastron across his bed, clutching his pillow and staring fixedly at nothing.

The burning in his shell hadn’t stopped the whole way home. He ended up confessing to Raph that he hadn’t slept well the night prior just so he could have an excuse to hide out in his room under the guise of taking a nap. If he’d gotten any looks for it, he’d managed to excuse himself before they could register. He just needed a minute by himself. Honestly, he didn’t think he’d have cared much  even if they had registered.

His stupid shell burned.

Frustrated, Leo shoved himself up from his bed, irritably launching his pillow in a random direction as he started pacing.

He was overtired. Being overtired made everything feel worse. That was a thing. His body felt like shit and he had the feeling he was being watched because he was exhausted. He hadn’t been lying when he said he hadn’t slept well last night; he’d barely slept at all last night. Or the night before that, if he was being honest with himself. Or the night before that, or… or the night before…

When was the last time he’d actually had a good, long, uninterrupted night’s sleep…?

Whatever, that just proved his point. He’d take a double dose of melatonin tonight and he’d probably be fine. In the meantime maybe could… splash some water on his face, or something? Just as a soft-reboot, just to maybe calm himself down a little…

He couldn’t hear anyone else in the lair as he moved through it. He vaguely remembered Mikey suggesting a b-ball game before he’d dipped to (not) take a nap. (Sort of. Mikey and Donnie were the only ones who'd actually be playing; Raph's whole depth-perception issue mostly regulated him to dribbling nearby.) Just to have something to do with their hands while they maybe discussed whether or not they should add “looking for leftover Krang gunk” to their patrols. They were probably off doing that. No clue where Dad was, though…

He got to the bathroom and immediately cranked the cold water tap on the sink, cupping his hands under the faucet. He threw the water that filled them into his face, then again, then again…

Anatawa hitorijanai replayed on loop in his head. He could see Gram-Gram’s desperate expression when he made the mistake of closing his eyes. Anatawa hitorijanai. He was being crazy.

…he was also probably going to accidentally waterboard himself at this rate.

He stopped throwing water into his face, putting his hands on either side of the sink. He stayed like that for a minute or so, hunched over, watching the water run from the tap and swirl down the drain. Finally, he let out a slow breath, twisting the water off, and pulling his mask down from his forehead and back over his eyes where it belonged. He was fine. He was fine.

He looked up, looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the room behind him, then back at himself.

He saw—

---

Leo tore into the kitchen and wrenched open a drawer. No, didn't have what he needed, the next one. Not in that one either— where did Mikey keep it—?!

He felt sick.

There had been eyes looking back at him when he’d looked in the mirror.

He felt sick.

They’d disappeared the instant they’d realized they were being observed, but it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t crazy. He wasn’t seeing things.

He wanted to be. He wasn’t.

There had been eyes looking out at him from inside his shell.

There. Third drawer down. Chef’s knife. He ripped it from the drawer, not giving himself time to hesitate.

He tilted his head forward slightly, and rammed the knife into the space between his neck and his shell.

p a i n — !

The knife jerked in a way Leo hadn’t directed it to. Like something had just shoved it away.

His breathing was sharp and fast and something warm was leaking down the back of his neck. He pushed the knife in further.

Then—

Something was screaming.

The knife was pushed out.

Pain made him see white. Something was chasing after the knife, he could feel it slithering out behind it, up the back of his neck, through the warm trails of blood still dripping to the floor—

The knife was ripped from his hand, and the tentacle now gripping the blade sloshed fluorescent green blood onto his shoulder (his own palm was stinging, bleeding, he must have slipped while he’d been driving back into his shell). He craned his head to look over his shoulder, bile burbling up his throat, and stared into the eyes that he’d caught staring out from his shell.

“I would advise,” hissed the Krang, “that you not ever attempt that again.”

Chapter 4: Talk Talk Talk

Leo’s reflexes were sometimes just a bit faster than his brain.

Sometimes, this was a massive pain. Like the time Mikey had tossed him a sludge-filled waterballoon as a prank. He’d known it had been filled with sludge. He’d watched him fill it up. He’d still caught it with both hands (and then immediately had it explode therein) rather than just ducking out of the way. His brain hadn’t thought to override his body’s instinct of “incoming sphere-thing, must catch,” until it was too late. And then there was that time he’d sliced Achorworm in half because he’d been on his head and ew. That could’ve been a way worse situation if he hadn’t had regeneration powers.

Now was a very similar situation: While his brain was still drowning in “what”s and “how”s and shock and fear, his body registered “hostile creep is touching me,” and decided the sooner that stopped, the better.

There was a clatter as the Krang threw the knife a few feet away from them, growling, and in the span it took for it to do that Leo reflexively reached up to rip it from his shoulder.

He felt a sharp, painful tug deep in his shell, and they both yelped.

Leo’s heart, already beating hard, began hammering in his chest. It was ATTACHED.

A sudden blow to the side of his head, hard enough to send him staggering and make his ears ring, made him let go. The Krang hissed, pained, and then snarled, “Stop that, there’s no point!”

Leo’s brain finally stopped skipping its track in time to fully process something new and horrifying. His knee-jerk, panicked assessment of the situation hadn’t amounted to much beyond “holy shit, a Krang just crawled out of my shell!” Apparently, to the point it hadn’t clicked that he recognized the voice of said Krang.

This wasn’t just a Krang; this was the Krang. This was the head-honcho of Krang.

(This was the guy who had lived inside Leo’s nightmares for months after their final encounter. Super.)

There were a lot of things Leo could have said or asked here. Honestly, he had enough questions to probably keep them entertained for hours. Most of them were – he felt, at least – pretty relevant to the situation at hand.

Instead of asking any of those, what he ended up frantically blurting was, “Why are you so small?!”

…now, in his defense: If Leo had to hazard a guess, the Krang (or at least this Krang), had stood anywhere from seven to eight to maybe even nine feet tall when they’d first encountered him. Now, he was maybe a foot – foot and a half, if Leo was being generous – and able to sit on his shoulder. So a process had definitely occurred here one way or another.

All the same, Leo had to admit that the questioning and annoyed look the Krang was now giving him was a more than fair reaction to his choice of first question.

(As much as he hated to concede even that much. He was panicking, alright?)

Kicking the less relevant questions/comments/concerns out of the way to get to something a little more significant, Leo tried again: “What were you doing in my shell?!”

Then, finding a groove, “What are you even doing here? How did you get out of the prison dimension?!”

Then, maybe panicking just a little and not able to stop, “What do you mean ‘there’s no point—’?”

A tentacle was slapped over his mouth, stopping the flow of words. “Shut up, will you?! I’m trying to think!”

Leo, brow furrowing angrily, took firm hold of the tentacle and ripped it away from his mouth. “I fucking will not!! How the hell are you here and not growing fungus in the prison dimension where you belong?! Answer me!”

Snarling again, the Krang yanked his tentacle from Leo’s grip.

“I hitched a ride,” he spat. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Leo’s insides dropped off into nothingness, leaving him hollow. “What…?”

The Krang gave him a smirk as empty as he felt. “The Krang can grow and thrive inside all forms of life. We devour lesser forms from the inside out. We are – oh, how might your kind phrase this… contagious?” He barked a sudden laugh, more schadenfreude than actual humor. “And you caught me.”

Understanding struck, hard and sickening, and Leo thought he might throw up. “You were growing INSIDE my shell this entire time?!”

“Indeed.” Then, smirk dropping, expression darkening, “In the future, should you wish to avoid situations like this, might I recommend keeping these—” the tentacle the Krang had just reclaimed shot out to snatch Leo’s wrist, shaking it pointedly, “—out of other people’s mouths.”

He had managed to get the Krang through the portal, he just needed to keep it there until it closed. Shouting at Casey to close it, the Krang turned, tried to head back, no no no—! Grabbing at whatever he could, “LET GO OF ME!” feeling the slimy inside of its mouth, BEGGING Casey to close the portal—

Leo jerked his hand away, horrified.

There had to be a way to fix this. There had to be. Take measured breaths and think, he couldn’t fall into the trap of breathing as fast as his body was trying to tell him he needed to, he just had to breathe.

His eyes darted around the kitchen before landing on the knife several feet away on the floor. The Krang was apparently attached to him (had been growing inside him all this time), but there was no reason it had to stay that way. Even if the Krang put up a fight, he was so much smaller now, and anyway Leo was frazzled enough to start fighting crazy if he had to—

The Krang, apparently, noticed. “Remove me at this stage and we both die, you cretin.”

Leo’s eyes snapped to look at him, glaring. It was a bluff. It was so obviously a bluff. The logic of it made no sense, it was obviously just some desperate ploy to get him to do what he wanted, for whatever reason. Leo didn’t especially care about what that reasoning actually was, he’d cut the stupid meatwad out of his shell here and now to prove it was all bunk—

The Krang growled. “You tried to remove me once already, and you’ll notice how it didn’t work? Do you truly think I would actively choose to stay attached to you?” Then, more furiously, “Do you think I would have discarded a weapon without justifiable cause, when I could have just as easily used it to carve out your eyes?”

Leo continued to glare, silent, trying to think of an appropriately villainous justification for either of the Krang’s points.

“…you’re small now,” he pointed out again. “Maybe you’re still growing or something, and can’t do that unless you’re attached to me. Doesn’t mean I’ll die. You might though—”

“Yes, you WILL, expressly because you’re correct.”

Leo stared.

A huff this time, all haughty and disgusted at the indignity of needing to explain to someone lesser (asshole). “During this sort of process, Krang need a living, complex organism to support their major functions until they’ve completely finished forming. They require a host.” A sneer. “You’re mine. You should be honored.”

“Yeah I’m just dancing over here,” Leo spat.

The Krang ignored him. “The reforming is, I’ll admit, generally a bit more… noticeable. That it’s taken place completely out of sight on you is unusual. Regardless, the fact remains that most hosts Krang may take are usually less than enthused with their new purpose. They would have us removed as soon as they noticed us, if they could. As a countermeasure, Krang will entwine their host’s nervous system with their own. Neither can function without the other, and expecting to survive after removing Krang would be as nonsensical as expecting to survive without your worthless head. It simply isn’t possible.”

“…why should I believe you?” Leo forced out.

“You already do,” the Krang said coldly, eyes narrowed and tentacles tensing around his shoulder. “You wouldn’t be this pathetically afraid if you didn’t. I won’t waste my time arguing a point we both understand.”

“Who says I’m afraid—?”

“You aren’t especially subtle,” the Krang returned quickly.

…too quickly, even. That was… weird.

The look Leo gave him must’ve been enough to communicate his confusion/suspicion, because after a second or so the Krang looked away moodily.

“The connection between Krang and their host is supposed to act as a means of life support, nothing more,” he explained. “For some reason, ours seems to be experiencing some… unwanted emotional feedback, let’s call it.”

Well good golly gosh, that sounded fucked.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Leo demanded. “What, we can feel each other’s emotions now??”

The Krang looked back, expression stormy and… huh, sulky. “At the very least, I can feel yours. No idea if it goes both ways, you’d have to determine that yourself.” An annoyed, somehow still sulkier look. “I assure you, you would benefit from feeling my emotions as much as I feel yours.”

A tentacle suddenly snapped in Leo’s face, flicking his nose and making him flinch. Irritably, the Krang insisted, “There’s something wrong with you.”

Leo, swiftly regaining his bearings, glared and returned fire, flicking the Krang where his nose would have been. The shocked and downright outraged look he got back for it was supremely satisfying, particularly considering his own nose still stung a little…

“What’s ‘wrong with me’ is that I have a friggin’ parasite probably sucking out my life force or something,” he sniped, matching the glare he was getting. Shaking his head, trying to center, he continued, “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Donnie’s great with stuff like this—” (“Time to do some light removing of a thing attached to another thing”) “—he’ll figure out a way to have you gone in no time.”

“You won’t tell him,” the Krang informed him lightly.

That was… a very abrupt and very unsettling shift in tone.

The Krang went on, “You won’t tell any of them.”

Annoyance bubbled up in Leo’s chest. If there was one thing he hated, it was people telling him what to do when they had no right to it. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m going to tell them—”

“Like how you tell them you don’t sleep?”

Annoyance found dead in their own apartment; said apartment now empty and cold.

 The Krang tilted his head (or at least bent his body to tilt the part that housed his face). “I won’t presume to understand how you earthlings think, but if I had to wager a guess I’d say that decision was one of the scant moments basic logic was applied. You didn’t want to advertise that you’re weak.”

“That’s not—”

“If they found out you hadn’t been sleeping, they would ask why. If you told them, they would know you’re jumping at shadows and things years in the past. If you tell them about me, they’d know your greatest – and likely only – victory was moot.”

That fucking smirk again— “At any rate, I can’t imagine any of your comrades will be terribly excited to see me, and hm! Look at that! You’re irremovably attached to me.”

Leo swallowed (harder than he would have liked, but he wasn’t obvious about it). “They won’t care about that!”

“No?”

The question was polite. Vaguely uninterested but asking anyway. It made Leo want to hit something.

“No, they won’t!”

“You don’t even believe yourself, how can you expect me to?”

Leo went to smack him. The Krang quickly brought up a tentacle to block his hand, before scowling at him for his audacity. Leo couldn’t have cared less.

“This,” Leo began, gesturing pointedly between them with his free hand, “is fucking freaky. I am going to freak out. THAT is what you’re feeling right now, NOT me thinking my brothers or dad will— I don’t know, whatever it is Krang do to each other when a setback they can’t control happens – beat me to death?”

“I don’t expect any of you to behave how Krang would in this situation,” the Krang dismissed. “That would be giving you entirely too much credit. I’d simply assumed they would be able to tell when keeping something around would be dangerous or not.”

Leo heard the implied threat loud and clear. “You so much as look at my family and I swear I’ll cut you out on the spot, I don’t care if it kills me—!”

“I’d very well like to see you try you worthless little—!”

He stopped dead. Leo had been staring angrily at the Krang, but nonetheless sensed the eyes on them too. In tandem, they both slowly turned to look towards the doorway…

…and there stood Mikey, stock-still and horrified.

Seconds passed. Nobody moved.

Leo swallowed, and he said, “Mikey—”

But apparently, this was exactly what Mikey needed to get unstuck.

“DAD!!” he screamed, moving to sprint away with such force he was momentarily sent stumbling onto all fours just to stay upright. “RAPH!!”

“Stop him!” hissed the Krang, eyes snapping back to Leo, who just scoffed.

“Why should I? Saves me the trouble of having to go get them.”

It was a good thing that they would all know. It was GOOD.

Snarling a final time, the Krang retreated back into Leo’s shell. Leo was left awkwardly standing in the wake of this action, alarmed and uncomfortable. 1. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the Krang could go back into his shell, and 2. Yowza that was a weird sensation…

Raph burst into view, followed quickly by Donnie and Mikey, all still in their athletic clothes (they had gone to play basketball, apparently), and all brandishing their weapons. Dad came in immediately behind them (still no idea where he’d been, though in retrospect Leo suspected his room).

Everyone’s faces twisted in horror when they saw him – ah. He was still kinda standing in a puddle of his own blood, wasn’t he? That whole “shoving a knife into his shell” business… welp.

Not really knowing how to address absolutely anything about the situation, Leo gave a nervous little wave, and croaked, “Hey guys. How was B-ball?”

Raph looked at him, still horrified and just maybe a little disbelieving now. “Leo,” he began slowly, “Mikey said he saw—”

Leo cut him off with a nod.

Everyone tensed. Leo saw their eyes snap from one corner of the room to another, looking for something, before warily returning to him.

“Wh-where is—?”

Shakily, Leo pointed at his shell.

“It’s— it’s inside your—?!”

Another, much more tremulous nod.

Cue high-key horror from everyone present. There was a beat while everyone struggled to process things, and then Donnie pushed to the front of the group.

“I can drive it out,” he said, striding into the kitchen and leveling his tech- bō at Leo. “Just stay calm and— and grit your teeth for a second. This’ll be over quick and then we can contain that thing in my lab where it can’t touch you—”

The bō crackled, electricity jumping to life on the metal tip. Leo, reasonably, sprang back, almost slipping in his own blood-puddle. At the same time, Raph and Mikey leapt forward to pull Donnie back, and Dad balked “Purple! Absolutely not!”

“What else are we supposed to do?!” Donnie demanded, trying to shake Mikey and Raph off. “We can’t just leave it in his shell—!”

“U-um actually—” Leo interjected (this was a good thing, this was a good thing), “it kinda wouldn’t matter if you drew him out? He’s, uh… physically attached to me?” At the confused, still increasingly horrified silence, he falteringly explained, “Apparently he’s sorta been growing in my shell this whole time – blehh gross, I know – and he’s not… he’s not done, yet, quite. Soo even if he were to come out you wouldn’t actually be able to… remove him, y’know?”

Another beat, maybe a second or so longer than the first, and then the sawblade attachment on Donnie’s bō roared to life.

“I’ll cut it out, then.”

“Donnie—!”

“Dude, stop—!”

“What do you SUGGEST we do then, just leave it there—?!”

“He’ll die,” a voice suddenly interrupted from Leo’s shell.

Everyone instantly fell quiet. Leo saw recognition flicker across their faces; they recognized exactly which Krang this was, too.

In the resulting shocked silence, the Krang continued, “Forming within your brother means that both our automatic functions are presently being regulated by the same system; remove me from him in any way and he’ll asphyxiate because his body won’t remember how to breathe.” A scoff. “Assuming cardiac arrest doesn’t kill him first – or literally any of the number of essential processes that will immediately start shutting down.”

“Why should we believe you?” Mikey demanded. He was… well, visibly furious, but it also obviously shaken up, if not downright scared. Leo’s fists clenched.

“Indeed,” Donnie agreed, finally shrugging off Raph and Mikey. “You presumably stand to lose a lot from being removed, if it’s true that you need Leo to ‘grow,’ and quite a lot to gain by staying, considering that returning to your full strength would give you the opportunity to terrorize New York again. All and all, no rationale you could really offer could lend credence to any of your claims with that in mind.”

Leo was (obviously) closest, so he couldn’t tell if anyone else heard it, but there was a very distinct growl of “oh for the love of—” before he was once again subjected to the feeling of something slithering out of the top of his shell. Everyone flinched back cautiously, weapons raised once again.

(Leo realized, suddenly, that he’d never faced a standoff like this before. Usually, he’d be on the other side of the conflict, with his brothers, swords drawn and waiting to drop a one-liner. Instead he was… here. Watching them. And he felt so, so small.)

“You stand to lose something as well, in case you’ve forgotten,” the Krang pointed out irritably, gesturing at Leo.

“If you do anything to hurt him I’ll beat you into a thick paste!” Raph barked, taking another step forward menacingly. Beside him, Dad echoed his energy.

The Krang was… not amused.

“Did my brother accidentally LOBOTOMIZE you during the assimilation process?!” he demanded, glaring daggers at Raph. “I can’t hurt him!”

“Then what’s with all the blood?!” Raph demanded, gesturing at the crime scene on the floor.

“HE did that!” the Krang insisted, pointing at Leo furiously. “While ramming a knife into his own shell!”

“I was aiming at you!”

Leo heavily suspected that if the Krang wasn’t specifically trying to convince people that he couldn’t hurt him, he would’ve moved to smack him again. That’s what the look he was giving him suggested, anyway. “Regardless. Any injuries that he sustains will be ones I will also have to suffer, and vice-versa! We are connected!”

Donnie scoffed. “Based on what you described, if this ‘connection’ even exists at all, it would lie primarily in the brain stem. There’s surgeries for that kind of thing; separation is more than doable.”

"Fine!” the Krang snapped. “Kill us both then. How ironic that such a weak, sentimental species could also have so little loyalty for their own."

Leo, for his part, felt increasingly trapped and conflicted. If what Donnie was suggesting worked, it’d solve the problem on all fronts, wouldn’t it? If not… well, at least the Krang wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone, right?

But… at the same time…

He didn’t want to die.

Donnie opened his mouth to say something else, but Raph cut him off: “Donnie. Stop. We’re not doing this. We can’t.”

“‘We’ can’t,” Donnie agreed, “I, on the other hand—”

“Donnie.”

“So we’re just going to leave that thing alone with Leo—?!”

“Donnie!”

Donnie deflated, looking away, and didn’t say anything else. The conversation was over, it would seem.

…Donnie did have a point. It was dangerous to just let the Krang stay inside him until he was completely formed again; not just for Leo but literally everyone around him. And everyone not around him. If the Krang regained the power he’d had before, the whole world would be in danger all over again.

And, like usual, Leo was only thinking of himself.

“I’ll do it,” he said. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised (the Krang was making outraged and frustrated exclamations of “no you will not!”). “No, seriously – only time I’ll say this – but Donnie’s right. If he thinks he can pull it off, I’m all for it—”

“Leonardo…”

Leo faltered to a stop, looking at his dad.

Little known fact about Dad, he actually had a world-class “boy I know you aren’t about to do what I suspect you’re thinking of doing” look. He didn’t use it as often as he maybe could have (probably to retain potency or something), but when he did it could stop any of the four of them dead in their tracks.

That wasn’t the look he was giving him now. The look he was giving him now was much quieter, and much, much more pleading.

The conversation was, in fact, over.

“So… where’s that leave us, then?” Mikey asked. “I mean… okay, so it’s too dangerous for Leo to try to separate them – which I’m glad we’re not going to try to do! – but like… Krang can— I mean, with Raph—”

He stopped abruptly.

“Quarantine them?” Donnie suggested. “Just until— well…”

Until they knew there wasn’t any danger. Which wasn’t something they would have a way to check in the near/far future. All over again, Leo felt sick.

“I don’t have the ability you’re referring to,” the Krang interjected crossly, drawing the room’s attention back to him, “so you can stop that thought process right there.” Then, haughtily, “It would also be much preferred if you lackwits would stop speaking over me as though I’m not here. I dislike you all as it is, there’s no need to add being rude to the list of reasons why.”

Skeptical looks were passed around. Suspiciously generous that the Krang would offer that information without being pressed to… was it too much to hope he didn’t want to be put under lock and key any more than Leo did?

“Again: Why should we believe you?” Mikey asked, crossing his arms.

The Krang narrowed his eyes, consistently embodying the sentiment “how dare you speak to me” tip to tentacle. Rather than respond, he cast a languid gaze over to Raph.

Leo hadn’t noticed until just then, as he followed the Krang’s gaze, but Raph was looking noticeably uncomfortable.

Realizing that all eyes were now on him, Raph hesitated, then glanced away. “When— um. When I was— y-y’know,” (Mikey, stowing his ’chucks, reached over and put his hand on Raph’s arm), “When they had me, it wasn’t him that did… that. He never did any of that. It was the little one.”

Not for the first time (and by how things were going, almost definitely not the last), Leo felt a nauseating combo of anger and guilt as he looked at his big brother.

The Krang seemed about to say something more, but instead paused. Straining his ears, Leo realized why: The sound of footsteps approaching at a not inconsiderable clip was reverberating throughout the Lair.

“Guys?!” April. “Guys, where are you? I got Donnie’s text about an ‘emergency’? What the heck is going—?”

Leo saw her appear in the doorway in the gap between Mikey and Donnie, and their eyes locked. Then her eyes flicked to his left shoulder.

Leo had intended to say something to the effect of “don’t freak out,” and then offer as much of an explanation as he could. He got as far as “d—” before he was cut off by a roar of “APRIL O’NEIL!!” and the sight of his best friend of ten years charging towards him with her faithful bat and murder in her eyes.

The bat was swung somewhere over his left shoulder. Even in the confusion (and speed) of the moment, he was very aware that she  hadn’t been aiming for his head at all, as flinch-inducing as all the roaring and charging was.

The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to stare up at the kitchen ceiling from his back on the floor. His face was in agony. Mikey and Dad were on either side of him, and he could hear April somewhere out of his line of sight frantically apologizing.

To his left, he could hear a Krang hissing and spitting and snarling.

…well, at least he had proof that Krang wasn’t lying about sharing damage…

Notes:

“There’s something wrong with you” i.e. someone got their first taste of Depresso and didn’t care for it.

Chapter 5: Tit For Tat

Notes:

Short chapter this time around because both my hormones and certain characters are refusing to work with me. Sometimes you just need to throw what you've got into the ring so you can start fresh with a clearer head (they say, hopeful and pleading).

“So how long’s this whole ‘host’ situation gonna last?”

Leo sat on a stool at the island, pressing the icepack Mikey had passed him over the left half of his face. The spot he’d been jabbing at in his shell also still hurt, but given the wound’s positioning there wasn’t a lot that could be to help that particular issue. The bleeding had mostly stopped, shocking as that was, so at least there was that.

His family stood in a semi-circle in front of him, glaring. He knew they weren’t glaring at him, but all the same the view from where he sat definitely wasn’t his favorite. Kind of sucked, actually.

The Krang turned to give Raph (the one who’d asked) a slow, imperious glare of his own, then glanced away and tilted his head contemplatively.

“What was it you said to me when I’d tried to ask you something, back before…? …ah! Right: ‘I’m not telling you JACK.’”

“I think you’ll find it to be in your best interest to reconsider,” Donnie said, looking serious and pointedly fiddling with his bō.

The Krang gave a cold and very unimpressed snort. “Or what? You’ll concuss your brother again?” He jerked a tentacle towards Leo.

“Really prefer if you didn’t,” Leo put in, grumbling a bit. He appreciated Donnie’s intentions, but let’s call a spade a spade: Any threats they made were empty, and the Krang knew it, so why bother?

As an afterthought, he added, “My face is still on fire, by the way. This ice isn’t doing anything.”

(“I am sooo sorry…” April whisper-wailed; Leo gave her a little “don’t worry about it” nod.)

“That’s because it wasn’t your face that got smashed in,” the Krang snapped, giving April a look that said “if I could reach you I’d bite YOUR face off.” April’s look of earnest regret immediately dropped, and her middle finger was raised thusly.

Krang went on, “Just because we share the sensation of pain doesn’t mean it can be fixed or alleviated from either side. It needs to be addressed at the source—”

Hoping it would shut him up, Leo took the ice from his own face and slapped it over the likewise side of the Krang’s (maybe just a little too aggressively; they both flinched). He held it in place, eyes narrowed, until the Krang moved to hold it up himself, batting his hand away tetchily.

(Leo’s face did start to feel a little better after that, at least.)

“You don’t like this any more than we do, right?” Raph tried, attempting to get back on track. “So tell us what’s going on! For all you know we could… I don’t know, speed things up?”

Raph was grasping at straws, Leo could tell. And he could tell the Krang could tell, though he wasn’t sure if that was because of their apparent connection or if the vibes were just that strong. The Krang opened his mouth, presumably to say something scathing or just dismissive, but then stopped.

There was a pause as he chewed on the question for a second. Glancing over, Leo saw the eye not covered by the icepack staring down at the island, brow furrowed in thought. Slowly, he said, “I could perhaps be persuaded to answer a few of your questions.” A sudden, scornful ‘tch.’ “For all the good it would do, anyway…”

The fam exchanged doubtful looks.

“In exchange forrr…?” Donnie prompted.

“A quid pro quo,” the Krang said. “I’ll answer questions of yours if you answer questions of mine.”

Now it was April’s turn to snort humorlessly. “Yeah, can’t imagine that could backfire on us in any way. ’Cuz you’d neeever use any of the info we’d give you against us, right?”

The Krang gave a tiny “hm,” lightly tossing the icepack onto the island and moving to retract back into Leo’s shell. “Well, if that’s how you want to be about it—”

“Wait,” Raph said, and the Krang paused to give him a boredly inquisitive look. “Fine. You win. You answer our questions, and we’ll answer yours. Fair enough.”

“You’ll answer my questions first,” the Krang said stonily.

“How do we know you’ll answer ours after we answer yours?” Mikey demanded.

Rather than reply, the Krang resumed his retreat.

“Fine, fine!” Raph barked. “We’ll answer your questions first! We’ll go back and forth!” As the Krang resettled himself squarely back onto Leo’s shoulder, Raph said, scowling, “Ask your question.”

“And keep this on your face while you do it,” Leo groused, snatching the icepack back up and (gently, if only for his own sake) replacing it over the Krang’s face. “It still hurts.”

Krang brought a tentacle back up to hold the icepack. His expression turned sharp and even colder than the ice he held over it as he asked, “Which of my siblings do the earthlings have imprisoned?”

A beat as everyone stared in surprise, and then rougher, fiercer, “Answer me, who do they have?! I heard them – earlier today you were all eavesdropping on people discussing a ‘captive alien.’ They were talking about Krang and I want to know which!”

Another beat. They were saved from the Krang losing his patience and starting to absolutely rage by April replying, “The real murder-happy one, with the—” she coughed, “with the missing eye.”

The Krang calmed, if only slightly. Sort of. He seemed less likely to start screaming alien profanities at them at any rate, even if he didn’t seem any less angry. “And where are they keeping my sister?”

Everyone glanced at each other again, more nervously this time.

“We don’t know,” Leo told him honestly, taking initiative. At the furious, mistrustful look he was thrown, he insisted, “We don’t, seriously. She was taken by the government, or at least by guys working for the government. It’s a whole thing with them that they don’t let information like that get out; she could be in the building two blocks over or two countries over. You can get as snarly as you want, it won’t get you any better answer. We don’t know.”

The Krang looked less than satisfied (or pleased, or believing) with this response, but he apparently decided not to press the issue, at least for the moment. “What about—”

“Nuh-uh,” Raph cut in. “We answered two of your questions – our turn now.”

The Krang turned his glare onto Raph, but after a second seemed to swallow any arguments he might have had. “Fine. Refresh my memory, won’t you?”

Narrowed eyes all around. He remembered their original question; making them repeat it was just some weird power move. All the same, Raph asked again: “How much longer are you going to be growing on our brother?”

There was a second, and then the Krang’s glare relaxed into something less (overtly) hostile. “I don’t know.”

There was a minor uproar. Things like “what do you mean you don’t know?” and “you’re just being petty because we couldn’t answer your question!” and overall exclamations of displeasure all overlapped at once.

Louder, to be heard over everyone else, Donnie demanded, “Shouldn’t there be some sort of standard for this kind of thing where you could hazard a guess?”

“Absolutely nothing about this situation is ‘standard,’” the Krang retorted, “so no, I cannot.”

The general outrage calmed just slightly. “What do you mean?” Dad asked, fists going to rest on his hips.

“You said before that it was weird that you’d been growing completely out of sight,” Leo put in, remembering. “Does that, like… affect the growth-rate, or something?” Then, something else occurring to him, “Does it have anything to do with us sharing emotions even though we’re not supposed to?”

He got looks for that one. Shock and discomfort from his family (he hadn’t mentioned that fun little fact until that exact moment, whoops), and quiet anger from the Krang (apparently he’d been hoping to keep that info on the down-low, what a shame).

There was the littlest bit of hesitation before the Krang answered – was it hesitation? Or just another pause? …Leo felt weirdly secure it was hesitation: “I have no way of knowing if the placement of where my body was forming has had any effect on the process,” he said. “Be it in terms of ‘growth-rate’ or any other… unfortunate side-effects.”

He offered Leo a tiny glare, like it was his fault somehow. Leo made a point to roll his eyes contemptuously. Maybe don’t latch on to people as life support without their permission, my guy.

The Krang went on, “Typically, when Krang wakes up after using a host, it means they’re ready to leave. Their body is formed enough to function on its own, and can therefore safely detach itself.” He threw another dark look at Leo (again, as though he had absolutely anything to do with this—). “Obviously, something’s gone awry.”

“And how’d that happen?” Donnie asked. “What did you do wrong to make you wake up early?”

The Krang bristled. Which, despite not offering any visual indicators (apart from his expression twisting a bit more), was a physical enough sensation to make Leo twitch involuntarily. Krang-O had not liked that.

With that in mind, the following pause (screw it, it was definitely hesitation) was particularly noticeable.

“…I didn’t do anything wrong,” he finally insisted, clearly offended at even the implication, “but I will admit that this situation wasn’t an expressly… foreseen circumstance. And, therefore, there’s room for some unforeseen processes to have occurred.”

For the third time, everyone exchanged looks, energy running somewhere between “reluctantly intrigued,” “a little nervous,” and “confuuuuused.” Leo, for the most part, just felt anxious.

“Whaddya mean this wasn’t ‘foreseen’?” Raph asked, half-mirroring Dad by resting a hand on his hip.  

“I mean that taking your brother as a host wasn’t entirely intentional.” Scowling even harder (careful Krang-a-Rang, you keep making that face and it’ll stick that way), he explained, “I didn’t realize I had infected him when I had, or that I’d had a new body forming within him.”

He made a sudden sound that was half growl, half sigh. “Generally, the transfer of consciousness takes place the moment Krang can sense the connection to the host took. Being literal dimensions away, I was none the wiser that there was a connection. My best guess is that – because I didn’t know I could make a transfer, and therefore didn’t – the body that was forming attached to his consciousness—” another jerk of a tentacle in Leo’s direction, “—rather than mine.”

“Are there two of you now??” Mikey cut in suddenly, looking mildly distressed.

“Are there— what??”

“Are there two of you?” he repeated. When all he got back was an irritated (and monstrously confused) look in return, he gestured insistently. “You just said that you didn’t know you’d needed to transfer over, but there was still another body forming! So like… are there two of you? One here and one still in the prison dimension? Like… like cutting a worm in half?”

As Leo weathered through war-flashbacks of when Wyatt Tombstone’s disembodied arm had regrown and gained sentience (long story, don’t ask), the Krang spluttered. “No, absolutely not. When Krang transfer consciousness to a new body, the old body will slip into a coma, wither, and die. It’s a last resort, only ever meant to be attempted if Krang becomes too damaged to continue fighting, or is otherwise in dire peril.

“A new consciousness cannot form within the biomatter spread by an existing Krang; if I had never transferred over your brother would’ve simply had a few new ‘attachments’ – not that he likely ever would have seen them, but regardless.” With a sneer for emphasis, the Krang asserted, “There is, and only ever will be, ONE of me.”

“And we’re all grateful for that,” Leo intoned. (He got a sour look sent back his way.)

“Okay…” Raph said slowly, Chasm in place as he thought. “Okay, so… you don’t know how long it’ll be before you guys can separate. But what about—”

“You said before that I’d over-exceeded the questions I could ask with two,” the Krang interjected icily. “I’ve just answered several, one of which being completely moronic. We’re back to me: You’ve accounted for my sister. Where is my brother?”

Silence. And not a “surprised into it” kind of silence; a “no one wants to answer” –silence. Leo had to wonder if the Krang felt the weight of it too, because rather than impatiently demanding answers like he had before, he didn’t do anything to break it this time.

Finally, Donnie said, sterilely, “The last we saw of the third of you was inside your ship, right before— before you pulled us up for trying to steer it.”

‘Right before we closed it halfway in a portal that blew it up,’ was what Leo felt he’d meant to say.

Considering that was over three years ago and they hadn’t seen that specific Krang since… there wasn’t a whole lot of question as to what 2 + 2 equaled.

The Krang stared at Donnie, expression unreadable, and didn’t respond.

When the silence stretched to the point it became obvious the Krang wasn’t going to take advantage of the questions he still left to ask, Raph stepped back in: “You don’t know how long it’ll be until you two separate, but are there any, like… signs? For when you’re ready to split off? To, y’know, give us a heads up?”

The Krang turned to look at him, expression still vaguely faraway, before quietly replying, “Flaking.”

At the collective “WHAT” he was given, he clarified, “Large chunks of the host will start to flake off when Krang is able to leave, usually a day or so in advance. Objectively, to loosen the physical connection between them and where Krang is adhered, though the phenomenon is by no means limited to the site of said connection.” He gave Leo a venomous look, adding, “From what I’ve heard, it’s an intensely uncomfortable sensation.”

Now, this was the stupid part: Out of everything about this situation, that’s the dig was what crawled the furthest under Leo’s skin (pun intended, he deserved it) and made him nervous. Maybe it was just the promise that discomfort was unavoidable and coming for him, maybe it was something else he didn’t have the proper degree to unearth. Either way, it was an obvious psychological trap that the Krang was setting up, and he was falling into it headfirst.

Cue beautiful, wonderful April O’Neil to the rescue: “Pssh, is that all? Sounds kinda like when you guys would lose your scutes. Remember that? When you were kids?”

“Ugh, unfortunately,” Mikey said, vigorously rubbing his upper arms as though to shake off the phantom sensation from years past.

“Yeah, that always sucked,” Raph confirmed. “But! We always got through it! Together! This won’t be any different!”

Leo was almost halfway to feeling comforted when a voice right next to his ear sneered, “How touching…”

Jesus, if this guy was gonna be like this the entire fucking time, maybe Donnie would do him a solid and just put them both under until it was over—

A sudden scream of “MAD DOGGGS!!” from down the hall snatched their collective attention.

Casey slid into view not seconds later, brandishing her hockey stick. “I received April’s urgent text about Donnie’s urgent text – POINT ME TO THE SOURCE OF THE EMERGENCY!!”

Leo, face still throbbing, dove over the island to hide behind Raph.

Notes:

Oi Uno, if you didn’t know you that you had a host that you could safely transfer your consciousness over to, why did you try in the first place??

...I mean I know why because I'm the bitch in the driver's seat, but it's very suspicious that you never specified, I feel.

(Also yes I'm ending this chapter basically the same way I ended ch. 4 just with a twist, it would've been funnier if I'd had the other sections I wanted in here. But they AIN'T in here, so here we are: Unfunny and repetitive.)

Chapter 6: Is Any of It Connected

Notes:

I'm actually very happy with this chapter! Worked in some foreshadowing, touched down on some themes, sprinkled in a bit of lore... and it's not short like the last one! I’m always so disappointed when my chapters are under ten pages in a word doc.

John needed a goddamned Reese’s. It was shaping up to be a rough week, and it was only Wednesday, wasn’t that lovely?

He’d received reports that there had been an incident the night prior. Which, not especially unusual – this was New York. There were always reports, albeit usually false or inflated ones. Humans, bless their hearts, were a weird species, who did weird things. And sometimes those things were so weird that other people preferred to believe that it was being done by creatures who weren’t human. Particularly if what they saw was upsetting or traumatic – defense-mechanism, or something.

Not that they were all traumatic or upsetting. Some of them were just silly. John’s personal favorite was one from a few years ago: People had insisted that a few of the mascots who worked Central were actually shape-shifting bugs and lizards— or had they been snakes? Eh, whatever, some kind of reptile – who had ripped off their suits and then gotten into a dogfight.

John suspected most of the “eye-witnesses” for that one had been tourists. And also that the bug/reptile suits under the mascot suits had been specially commissioned for whatever little stunt they’d orchestrated. It was all to shake people down for cash – street performers were very creative nowadays.

Whatever the case, it was John’s (and by extension, the EPF’s as a whole) job to sort through the fake or just confused reports for what was real. Mostly by way of intuition – they couldn’t waste the manpower to investigate every report they got, there were just too many. It was by no means a perfect system, but until they could refine their tracking equipment a bit more (or until the scourge targeting humans was permanently cleansed from the planet), it was the best they had.

Which brought him to his two biggest current problems:

Problem One: The report from the night prior wasn’t false, or inflated, or misconstrued in any way. They’d received word from multiple people – what seemed like the entirety of some 4-star restaurant – that they’d all gone blind.

(Sort of. Those affected had reported it wasn’t that they couldn’t see anything, it was that they were all seeing too much. Everywhere they looked had too many colors suddenly, or at least that was how a few of them finally settled on describing the phenomenon.)

Now, potentially, similar reports from multiple people could have been the result of mass-hysteria. John personally refused to become an agent who saw evidence everywhere, just as much as he refused to become a jaded skeptic. He looked for the facts, and let them speak for themselves. He’d made sure all his agents had been trained to have the same mindset. When in doubt, bring in a professional. To get to the bottom of things, the agents who’d gone in to investigate had brought along one of the EPF’s doctors, to either verify or dispute the claims.

She’d verified. She couldn’t say what exactly was going on with the people she’d inspected, but she confirmed that their retinas were behaving abnormally. Their symptoms went away on their own eventually, thank God, but it was still undeniable proof that something had happened.

Some of the witnesses said they had heard two voices arguing after they’d first gone “blind.” At least one person claimed to have heard the name Mina called out just before the whole debacle shook down. John supposed it was as much of a lead as he was ever like to get, but still. That was a deceptively human-sounding name…

At any rate, it meant the EPF now had to track down a person named “Mina.” In New York. Because surely there would only be one person going by that name in the city! This assuming it even was a name – it could be some sort of nefarious extraterrestrial codename or alias or something. God bless what a migraine…

This led John to Problem Two: The rate of reports had increased exponentially since the widescale, honest-to-God alien invasion. Most of which (thankfully, John supposed), remained false and/or inflated. Going back to the element of “the EPF had limited manpower to investigate every report,” the department was stretched thin. He was drawing a blank on which agents he could spare or else reassign to look into this latest debacle, because at present all of them were working on leads for other reports.

Not that John could be especially upset with anyone in this instance, least of all the citizens filing the reports. People were – rightfully – scared.

John had always known an open invasion of any sort, big or small, would be horrific, and he’d be damned if he hadn’t been proven 100% right. It had been absolute hell to disinfect and otherwise purge citizens of the aliens’ filthy biomass. Then there was the millions of dollars’ worth of infrastructural damages caused to buildings and property – everyone’s taxes would be feeling that for a while. And don’t even get him started on the mental and emotional toll the whole experience had taken on the city’s populace…

But the absolute worst of it all was that, to this day, there were rumors that a group of masked, non-human “heroes” who had been the ones to bring the invasion to a halt. These “heroes” had never been located, and therefore had never been properly interrogated. It set John’s teeth on edge.

Obviously, these rumors could be just as inflated as the story of the Central Park mascots. But, as with the restaurant debacle the evening before, there were too many people claiming they had seen the anomaly for it to be so easily written off. Which, again, could be a result of mass-hysteria – it certainly would have been the moment for hysterics. But with that in mind, why would people latch onto yet more unearthly creatures coming to their aid as the premise for their shared delusion? John wasn’t a psychologist, but he felt that it would’ve been more likely for people to concoct scenarios in the opposite direction, considering the threat New York had been under at the time.

So alright, was it possible that, like the aforementioned mascots, whoever the people had seen doing whatever they thought they’d seen them doing, had been in costume?

Again, John doubted it. Even the most boneheaded hustler would’ve had to realize that the effort would’ve all been for naught. There’d been no one around to try to extort money from – everyone had been trying to either flee the city or just hide. And if the stunt had just been for clout, why hadn’t they revealed themselves afterwards to receive the accolades they’d worked for?

More pressingly still, even if some civilian had been crazy (stupid) enough to try to challenge the aliens head-on, it was outrageously unlikely that they would have survived the attempt, never mind stopped the invasion. The EPF hadn’t been enough to stop it, and John himself almost hadn’t survived. One of the goddamned things had attacked the copter he’d been trying to engage it in, and it had gone down.

(He’d made it out by the skin of his teeth. The pilot hadn’t. Neither had the newscaster, his cameraman, or their pilot from the copter trying to get footage for the public.)

Finally, returning to intuition playing a sizable role in John’s line of work, he just got a sense that this was the real McCoy. The things people were talking about were real, and they weren’t human. He didn’t have all the details nailed down yet, but of the pieces he did have of this puzzle, they all fit together so far:

The “heroes” hadn’t looked human. Why? Easy: They weren’t. If they weren’t human, what were they? Even easier: They’d been more aliens. Why had they seemingly been able to “stop” the invasion when Earth’s best hadn’t even been able to scratch the surface? Most elementary of all: Because they hadn’t. They were in league with the scum who’d been trying to smother the city in their vile growths.

Why the aliens would make an elaborate production out of their own downfall was the big question, obviously. One that John likely wouldn’t be able to truly answer until he pried it out of one of the aliens’ disgusting, toothy mouths. He had his suspicions, of course – maybe the aliens hadn’t been expecting to meet such fierce resistance. Maybe they’d been able to tell that, while they were managing to keep their human adversaries at bay for the moment, they wouldn’t be able to do it forever. As such, they’d revised their strategy from open warfare to something more subtle, more devious, and had decided to take their invasion underground.

(Metaphorically, obviously – John wasn’t so paranoid as to think there were aliens hiding out in the subway tunnels or anything stupid like that.)

The problem, of course, to anyone with half a braincell to rub against the first (which, unfortunate credit were it was due, the aliens regrettably seemed to have), was that after the fuss they’d made, they couldn’t just disappear. And if they’d wanted to take humanity unawares, they would need them to think they’d already been dealt with. But they likewise weren’t so stupid as to let themselves be taken en masse into custody, so what could they do?

Simple: Stage their own defeat. Let some of their own agents “stop” them, then slink off to the shadows and wait. For what, John couldn’t say. Play the long game and plant sleeper agents? Wait until tensions had eased and then launch an attack on the EPF itself? It was anyone’s guess, and he hated it.

One thing he was sure of, though: The EPF containing the alien currently in custody hadn’t been according to whatever greater scheme was at play here. It was too angry, too righteously indignant for it to be with them by choice. No human would have been able to sustain an act that convincing for this long, so it went without saying that an alien wouldn’t be able to either.

No. One way or another, them capturing the one they had presently was the aliens’ fatal misstep. John could feel it. All he had to do was get it to tell him what its ilk were planning, maybe even get a location out of it, and he’d be able to take the next step towards keeping humanity safe. He just had to make the thing talk.

If Xeinos wasn’t such an intolerable, raging— if Xeinos wasn’t so stubborn, he might’ve already been able to get started on that. But no. Xeinos apparently liked the… adrenaline rush? Bragging rights? Of having a pet that wanted to kill him, and refused to cooperate. And in doing so, he’d callously left John to pick up the pieces of a broken city by himself, forced to split his focus between relentless clean-up and waiting in tense anticipation for a sneak attack to be launched.

Speaking of the whole clean-up process, it was fucking awful. You’d think, after three goddamned years, they’d have sterilized every corner of New York ten times over by now. Wrong. They were still finding bits of alien gunk. Which, honestly, fit disconcertingly well with his theory that the aliens were still active on earth: They didn’t seem to be making any headway because the things were subtly replacing everything they cleared out. Unsettling on its own, but it also unfortunately meant they still had to dedicate – once again! very hard to come by! – manpower towards cleaning it up. He’d already gone on a sweep once this week, and would probably have to go on another before the week was through!

All this to say: John had earned some fucking candy.

He stood at the vending machine, watching the little spiral arm propel his Reese’s forward, quietly singing “Big Iron” under his breath. It was an old habit of his. He hated feeling idle, even if there was a perfectly justifiable reason for being so (like waiting for his candy to drop from a vending machine). To stop himself from physically twitching out of his own skin in these moments, he’d hum or sing to himself.

As his candy finally fell and he bent down to retrieve it, he heard, “Please tell me that’s not the first thing you’re eating today…”

John looked over his shoulder, and was met with a smile. Rhiannon Knight and Winston Rook had queued behind him to get some snacks. It was Knight that had made the comment, and it was Knight that had offered him the smile.

(Not that Rook had ignored him. He’d offered a friendly – if utterly straight-faced – nod. Very characteristic greetings for both of them, at least as far as John had come to expect.)

Knight’s comment pulled an eyeroll from him, though he realized halfway through the motion that he wasn’t annoyed like he might’ve been if any other agent had made it.

“I’m a busy man, Agent Knight,” he said, straightening, Reese’s in hand, and stepping out of the way. “Work starts as soon as I get up – it’s a rare day I have the luxury of stopping for breakfast.”

“And if it wasn’t past lunch I might let you off with that,” Knight replied lightly, swiping her card and punching the buttons to select her snack (Milky Way).

“And what makes you think I haven’t eaten lunch?” he asked. (He hadn’t, but she’d greeted him with that assumption. Baselessly, as far as she rightfully knew.)

Rook interjected: “We didn’t see you in the cafeteria around the time the majority of agents take their lunch, and everyone knows you refuse to eat in your office.”

John paused, caught out, then sighed. “And then there’s that, I suppose…”

“That’s not good for you, you know,” Rook went on, “you’ll wear yourself out if you don’t eat.”

“A protein bar!” John said suddenly, remembering. “I had a protein bar this morning!”

Knight raised her eyebrow, straightening with her treat and moving aside for Rook to take his turn. “Oh hun, that barely counts…”

John huffed (though he still had yet to be moved to true annoyance). “You’re moving the goalposts, here.”

“No, you’re just consistently falling short of them,” Rook said, selecting a bag of Lays.

“Oh okay…”

Agent Knight was the EPF’s Head of Intelligence. She was stylish, personable without needing to try, and probably the person most competent at handling PR situations out of the entire organization. Agent Rook was their Lead Field Operative. He was essentially a Swiss-army knife in human form (no matter the situation, he always seemed to have the exact skill required to get the job done), and completely converse to Knight, was a strong candidate for “bluntest person on earth.”

One time, they had invited him to have coffee with them.

It had been shortly after John had first transferred in from Washington, when he’d been still working to find his bearings living in a city as crowded as New York. They’d met in a situation similar to this: Forming a small queue to take turns at something, that was. Specifically, to get a cup of coffee from the pot in the breakroom. He’d been ahead of them then, too. He’d just poured himself a Styrofoam cup’s worth of Joe, and then just as he was about to walk away the woman behind him piped up, “Are we out of sugar, hun? There should be more in the cabinet above there, if you’d like…”

He’d turned, offering her an irritated raise of his brow. He then pointed out there were still plenty of sugar packets next to the pot, piled haphazardly in a little plastic basket (he’d been blocking her view of such, standing in front of her as he’d been).

She returned with a look that had been… how to describe it – part good-natured disgust, part exasperation? That felt closest, he supposed – and said, “Oh, so you’re just one of those who take their coffee black…”

John had been too thrown to properly be annoyed by the comment at first. Before he could get his feet back underneath him, she continued, “You’re the new head agent, right? What’s your name?”

He told her: “John Bishop.” After a split-second of surprise, her face split into a wide, radiant smile. “You’re joking.”

The annoyance he’d been too off-kilter to feel before hit him full force – what about his name was funny, exactly? – but before he could do anything to voice it, she gestured to herself, “Rhiannon Knight,” and then to the man standing behind her, “Winston Rook.” Still grinning brightly, she finished, “Absolutely lovely to meet you, John Bishop.”

…alright, John could admit – that was a little funny.

Ice broken, they chatted a bit more as Knight and Rook poured and prepared their own coffees. Basic small talk, honestly – what Knight and Rook did within the EPF, why John had transferred in from the main office in Washington, general topics like that. Rook had made a comment (in a tone so serious it could only have denoted a joke) about the higher-ups now being obligated to hire an “Olivia King, Johnathan Queens, and Ann Pawns, or something like that,” to truly complete the set they’d started. That had been worth a welcome chuckle.

As the two finished dolling up their designated caffeine intakes, they invited him to come sit with them as they sipped. Continue the conversation they’d started, maybe learn a bit more of each other. John had considered it for all of three seconds (two and a half more seconds than usual, which proved his interest), before declining. There were some things he needed to get done, and he unfortunately couldn’t afford to put them off just to chat. He was taking his coffee to go, so to speak.

He walked away from the conversation heartened by the revelation that at least two of his colleagues weren’t idiots, and had tolerable personalities to boot. Sadly, that wasn’t the case for all of his colleagues, or even most, but he supposed two were better than none.

…ugh, what a way to get his mind jerked back to Xeinos. He definitely fell towards the less favorable side of “tolerable,” to put things lightly. Snapped back to the present, the most recent of a long list of grievances floated to the surface of John’s thoughts all over again. His mouth pressed into a thin line.

Perhaps… perhaps if he just tried a different approach… confront Xeinos with his theories on the situation, maybe? As much as he was loathe to do so – the topic was something he admittedly hesitated to speak with his own agents about, much less with an alien sympathizer. Far too easy for the info to reach idiot-ears and get blown out of proportion, or otherwise botched in some way.

But desperate times, desperate measures. Maybe, just maybe, if he paired it with the promise that he wouldn’t cause any permanent damage to the alien (a bold-faced lie, or at least it wouldn’t be something he’d make any intentional efforts to avoid), he could convince the old bastard to be more cooperative…

If there was any chance this would work, John decided he’d prefer to get the ball rolling on it sooner rather than later. He excused himself with a polite goodbye, setting off down the hallway and unwrapping his Reese’s as he went. His oxfords emphasized his sense of purpose with each step.

---

Everything was too loud. 

Too colorful, too, actually, but that could at least be mitigated somewhat. He could shut off his cone receptors until what he was forced to look at was more tolerable, and then slowly reengage them as he adjusted. Same with his olfactory senses, since earth seemed hellbent on bombarding him with everything all at once.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about the noise.

Vehicles driving around, horns honking, brakes squealing, humans crowding into each other and bustling here and there, talking, yelling, miscellaneous sounds he couldn’t immediately pin a source too— It was all layered on top of each other, and it was endless.

The prison dimension had been eternally silent. It had been less noticeable with the rest of the Krangs’ forces around (and then, at least, with his brother and sister). On his own, the silence had bored into him to such an extent that sometimes it had seemed his own thoughts were reduced to a whisper.

Earth, by comparison, was deafening.

To combat this, Krang presently sat huddled at the bottom of his host’s shell. The noise was somewhat muffled from within, which was something (a very small something, but he’d take anything at this point). Helpfully, it also meant he wasn’t forced to actually look at the rabble that surrounded them, because instincts were trying to demand he keep track of all of them at once.

He was in a vastly more vulnerable position than he’d been when he’d returned to earth the first time – being in such a state and being surrounded by enemies made the three topmost layers of his skin positively crawl, however much he knew he wasn’t in immediate danger from any of them. That in mind, best way to maintain his composure was to just not look at them. Small mercies that his host’s shell was opaque. And that he’d formed entirely inside of it, for that matter, unusual though the circumstance was.

Granted, it wasn’t a shell at the moment, it was a “back-pack.” Yet another one of the creature’s little tricks: He had a tacky bauble that could alter his appearance to blend in with the humans, and therefore walk amongst them unnoticed.

The thought of disguising one’s self to better blend in with one’s inferiors was enough to make Krang want to gag. However, apart from giving a pointed sneer shortly after the group had “transformed” (and immediately before he sought refuge in the shell-pack), he hadn’t offered any opinions on the matter. Seemed like a waste of his breath at this point – they had all made their stances on fraternizing with humans transparently clear during their first altercation. A sentiment reinforced by the fact that they’d apparently allied themselves with at least two human females. No point in trying to talk sense into a merry band of idiots like this.

One of those humans was presently leading the group down a (too loud, too crowded) street. Krang would have ranked her as more tolerable than the other, based on first impressions – his face wasn’t still throbbing after meeting her – except she was the loudest creature he’d encountered in his life thus far, and he therefore very much disliked her.

(He resolved to despise all earthlings right out the gate from then on, just to save himself a little time.)

They had been walking for a while now. While Krang acknowledged the importance of patience, he’d be the first to admit that his had long since worn a little thin. He wondered distantly if he’d ever see the return of the things the prison dimension had robbed of. Creeping upwards, he peeked out of the top of his host’s shell-pack, attempting to gauge where they were heading and how much longer the journey would take.

“Get back down and stay there, please,” his host muttered at him heatedly. “Last thing we need is for someone to see you and start a riot…”

Krang glared. The logic was sound enough, he’d admit. The downside to being the most impressive species in existence was that the Krang tended to leave something of an impression wherever they went. The second attempt of assimilating earth had been perhaps a bit more cavalier than was justified – taking revenge on the planet’s people for imprisoning the Krang centuries prior had almost taken precedence over actually assimilating them. As a result, the surrounding populace would probably be able to pick him out as one should they actually see him.

Regardless, he resented having the living embodiment of a thorn in his flesh try to tell him what to do. He did slowly duck down a bit more, if only so he wouldn’t be putting himself at risk over something as stupid as spite, but he very pointedly did not sink back down to the bottom of the shell-pack.

His host huffed, but didn’t try to give him any more orders.

“Where are we going?” Krang hissed. After the second human had been calmed down (a very relative term, in this case) and had the situation explained to her, she had declared she “had an idea,” and then hustled everyone above ground with barely any sort of explanation. Krang had caught “I’m sure they’ll know something!” from her, but that was about it.

His host scoffed. “Uh, I was standing with you when this all went down? I literally know exactly the same amount as you do here?”

Krang’s eyes narrowed further. “Then if I’m guessing correctly, this is a completely pointless excursion. No one could ‘know’ more about our current situation than me, and I’ve already told you everything. This is a waste of our collective time.”

His host made a derisive sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, well, there’s not exactly a lot of reasons to trust you, now is there? ’Scuse us for wanting a second opinion.”

(There was a beat, and then in an undertone his host added, “Orrrr whatever this actually is…”)

Krang gave him another glare on principle, but didn’t say anything more.

After a bit more walking, they approached a building with “Fire and Icing Cupcake Shop” emblazoned on its façade. Krang had neither the context nor the energy to hazard a guess as to what a “cupcake” might be.

His host, conversely, was apparently drawing information from their apparent destination that he was not privy to, because he half-muttered, half-groaned, “Hoouhhh boy…”

“What?” Krang demanded. “What is it?”

“Oh nothing,” his host dismissed in a grumble. Tone dropping still further, he added, “Should be a fun little reunion for you here…”

Krang seriously doubted the validity of that, and didn’t appreciate the level of crypticness either. He was about to comment to such an effect when his host reached over his shoulder, put his hand on the top of his head, and shoved him back down to the bottom of his shell-pack.

“Going into a public, potentially crowded building now, so you stay in there and be real nice and quiet until we come back out again, mmkay? Cool, awesome, thanks.”

Ohhh Krang was feeling more and more warmly disposed to his sister’s overall philosophy by the second…

From within the shell-pack, Krang heard something ding over the sound of a door being opened aggressively. That was all the warning he got before—

“FORMER-SENSEIS!!” the human screeched. (Krang gritted his teeth – too loud—) “WE REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE!!”

There were sounds of inelegant fumbling, followed shortly by a rough voice groaning, “Aw dangit…” Then, grumpily, “Whaddya you guys want?”

“Brouhaha, buddy!” Krang heard his host greet genially. “Hey, so— sorry to just show up without calling first, know that’s rude and everything, but we’re kiiiinda in the middle of a teeny-tiny situation? Like, it’s urgent, and Case said you and Lootie-Toots might know a little som’n som’n that could help us out? So whaddya ya say you go grab him and meet us in the back, and then we’ll all be out of your flames before the pre-dinner rush, sound good?”

From within the shell-pack, Krang’s brow furrowed. There was… there was a glaring disconnect at play here. Outwardly, his host was being gratingly conversational and fast-talking. It gave the impression he was unbothered, even cheerful.

That was not how he was feeling inwardly. Krang wished the wretch was as unaffected as he was acting. How he actually felt was more comparable to having inhaled something viscous and sticky, and trying to breathe through it.

Krang, knowing this, feeling it as though the emotions were his own, wouldn’t have guessed this based off his host’s manner of speech. Not in a million years.

Disconcerting.

There was some grumbling, the sounds of something large moving away, and some indistinct calling. A pause tense with the feeling of being made to wait while everything was going wrong, and then the sound of the large something returning. Another voice, a new one, irritably sighed, “Oh boy…” and then bade the group follow it somewhere. Presumably, “the back.”

Odd thing, though… That voice sounded strangely familiar… Even rougher than the first – more rasp than voice, truly – though perhaps not as deep. Hm.

As they walked, his host was seemingly intent on making pointless conversation: “The shop looks good! I mean yeah, it’s not as iconic as the Foot Clan running the Foot SHACK, but it’s a living, amirite? Plus I mean like the Foot Clan isn’t really a thing anymore, and bright side! You’re still keeping with the theme-naming with the whole… flambé forehead situation you got going on, kudos for that! Business doing okay otherwise? How’s Grandma CJ’s famous brownies selling? We were all super excited to hear you guys were partnering up on that one – might grab one on our way out, actually. Oh, and Casey showed us around her new apartment, looking good, you three did a great job setting that up—!”

…well. Describing it as “conversation” might have been a bit of a stretch – his host was the only one actually doing any talking.

“Okay, that’s enough,” said the rasp, and Krang felt them stop moving. “What’s the ‘urgent’ thing you need help with? Get on with it.”

His host got a strange little spike of something, and it was all Krang could manage to not start squirming in the shell-pack from the discomfort of it. It certainly wasn’t the first time his host had felt it, and the repeating pattern suggested it would lamentably not be the last, but at present Krang didn’t have a name for what it actually was. He didn’t have a readily available way to ask what it was, either. At least not beyond “please list all the things that are wrong with you so I can weed out what I’m familiar with and not, and then have you describe what I don’t know so I can attach labels to all the nonsense you’ve got floating around in your system.”

Anyway, regardless of not knowing exactly what the spike was, Krang suspected it was what had caused an awkward silence to swell where before there’d been chatter. His host had gone quiet. None of his host’s comrades were speaking up either, and he wondered if they were feeling the same thing. If he’d been the rasp, he’d have been growing increasingly annoyed.

“So… funny thing, really—” his host began, then suddenly stopped again.

Another voice picked up where he'd paused - it was the one Krang's brother had briefly assimilated: “Do you guys remember the— um, the Krang—? Okay, yeah right, ’course you do, um—”

The first human, the one who’d hit him, interjected, “Don’t freak out or anything, but uh. Yeah, so y’see—” 

“Oh for pity’s sake—” Krang groused, shoving his way up and out of the shell-pack, fed up with the group’s dithering. The level of noise had gone down when they’d entered the building, and as they’d moved had only continued to drop. He could only assume that meant the number of potential witnesses had gone down as well, so as far as he was concerned his host had no right to demand he stay inconspicuous.

“They want to know if there’s a way to separate Krang from a host, even though I’ve told— oh,” he said, finally reaching his host’s shoulder and getting his first look at who the group was addressing. “It’s you two.”

Before him stood the two humans (?) who’d first released him and his siblings. The additions his brother had added during their assimilation were gone, for the most part (pity, they’d looked better that way). Traces of what had been were left in their wake, however:

The larger of the two held his head at an angle, and Krang could see some scarring across its chest beneath the apron it wore, hinting at where a large eye had once sprouted. (The apron, incidentally, had Fire and Icing Cupcake Shop printed across it, in a font identical to the one on the storefront outside.) The other one, the one with the raspy voice, now stood with an almost imperceptible hunch, and he was holding his arms in a loose facsimile of the scythes they had previously formed.

They had both recoiled at the sight of him, fear plastered across their faces. A respectable enough reaction, he supposed…

“…yeah, so… anything you guys can do about this?” his host finally asked weakly.

“Why did you bring that HERE?” the rasp demanded with clear rising distress.

Krang huffed, glaring and raising a brow imperiously. “So much for ‘living to serve…’” he sneered.

“Hey now wait a second,” the largest of his host’s companions cut in, outraged and taking a step forward. “If you guys hadn’t let the Krang out in the first place, 'that' wouldn’t have globbed onto our brother, and we wouldn’t have had to bring it here!”

The pair’s fear faltered, if only marginally. “What do you mean ‘globbed on’?” asked the rasp.

“Yeah, and why’s it so…?” The larger one made a box-like gesture in the air with his hands, indicating something minuscule. “…tiny? Is this one new? Is it like… a baby or something—?”

“Excuse me—?!” Krang exclaimed, offended, but his host cut him off with a sharp “hush.”

Krang smacked him with a tentacle, snarling. Yes, he also felt it, yes, it had hurt, but it was a small price to pay if it meant impressing that he was not to be spoken to like that.

Considering his host reached up and smacked him back, growling in return, he very much doubted his point had connected like he’d wanted it to.

“Hey,” the large, red-masked one barked, a warning-tone clear in his voice. “You two keep your hands to your—! Uh, keep your tentacles— whatever, quit hitting each other!” Turning back to the other two, he explained (sounding slightly harried), “That’s not a baby, that’s the leader. He attached a part of himself to Leo the last time they fought, and he’s been growing in his shell this whole time. He’s still growing in Leo’s shell, and if we try to cut him out they’ll both—”

He faltered, apparently overcome with emotion at the very thought of what he was about to say. The rest of the group listened on, somber and tense. Krang rolled his eyes.

“—they’ll both die,” the red one finally finished, swallowing hard. “Since you guys were the ones to bring the Krang here, we need any info you might have on how to – safely – split them up.”

The two looked at each other, seeming hesitant. After a moment the big one said, “We, uh… we don’t know anything about that…”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Krang put in. His host glared at him again.

“You have to have something,” the loudmouth insisted, irritated and pleading all at once. “How did you learn the ceremony to open the portal the first time? Aren’t there… scrolls or something you could consult? The Hamatos have scrolls for all their things like this—”

“The Foot Clan’s scrolls are all history-based,” the rasp cut in, “not instructional.” Then, a little haughtily, “And let’s not start playing apples and oranges with how the clans were run if we can help it, yeah?”

“‘History-based’?” the purple one repeated from the side, having moved to lean against a far wall. “So… wait, are you saying it’s part of the Foot Clan’s ‘history’ that it opened a portal and released the Krang?”

“…nnehh?” the rasp said, making a so-so gesture. “Not… exactly. You see, according to our histories—”

He suddenly stopped short, casting an openly nervous glance at Krang.

“He can’t do anything right now,” his host put in dismissively (Krang felt rage kick to life in his chest, oh he’d show them what he could ‘do’—!), “just say it.”

Again, the pair glanced at each other.

“Uh… well…” the larger one began, “according to everything we’ve ever heard/read/whatever about it, the Foot Clan was sorta… the ones who’d first imprisoned the Krang…”

The rage that had already sparked in Krang’s core was instantly fanned into an inferno, and the sound that came from him was unrestrained and dangerous.

“Ignore him,” his host insisted as the pair both reflexively recoiled again, “keep talking, ignore him. Go on.”

The larger one had taken to swinging his fists nervously down at his sides. “So… The Krang showed up, right? The clan fought with ’em for a while, but they were losing, so the four strongest warriors in the clan went out and asked for help from some powerful kami. The kami helped them fight at first, and when everything started looking bad the kami gave each of the warriors a little mystic boost. After that the warriors forged the key they used to lock up the Krang and… yeah. That’s how that went.”

The rat, who’d been standing almost immovably beside Krang’s host, flicked an ear, his brow furrowed concernedly. “That is… not how I remember the story of the Krang going…”

Rasp rested a hand on his hip, tilting his head curiously. “What were you taught?”

“I mean… it’s essentially the same story,” the rat admitted. “Yours just has… more to it, I suppose. I was never told the first invasion predated the Hamato Clan, and that they’d actually first attacked the Foot. And I’d never heard about the mystic warriors receiving help from any kami. They just… made the key and imprisoned the Krang. There weren’t any ‘hows’ in the version I was told.”

“Is that because the info wasn’t there, Splintz?” asked the face-smacker, arms crossed and brow raised, an air of unconvinced floating above her head. “Or did you just not read your scrolls close enough?”

The rat flinched, then turned to pout up at her. “How I told all of you the story is exactly how my Grandpa Sho told it to me!” he returned defensively. “I’d thought I could take him at his word, and that he wouldn’t leave out anything as important as all that!”

(“So you didn’t read your scrolls, I’d figured,” sighed the human.)

Krang, meanwhile, quietly seethed. If he’d known the very people who’d been spouting (ultimately useless) declarations of loyalty had been associated with the ones who’d imprisoned the Krang, however loose or distant the connection was, he would have indulged his sister a bit more and let her slaughter every last one of them. There’d been thousands of humans on the mainland, once they’d reached it – they could have picked up soldiers for her to lead amongst them.

And if the earthlings wanted history, HE could have given it to them himself, and then they wouldn’t have needed to drag him out into the noise. He’d been there. He’d lived this.

Well. It didn’t matter. Their loss. They weren’t asking, so he wouldn’t be telling. No matter how pertinent it was to their woes.

“But wait a second,” the one in orange said, pressing two fingers to his forehead in confusion, “if the Foot were the ones to first lock up the Krang… how come you guys let them back out?”

Yes. Why indeed. Krang had never really stopped glaring at the revelation he’d been presented with, but he hoped he was managing to make it that much more pointed.

Of all the responses he’d been expecting, twin shrugs had not been one of them.

“We were just following orders, mostly?” the rasp said. “It was the Shredder’s endgame, really, not ours.”

The group at large burst out with a collective “WHAT,” effectively drowning out Krang’s incredulous “the whose endgame??”

 Shredder? He’d never heard of any Shredder…

“So— wait a second,” his host said, and oh. That burst of anger had not come from Krang, for once… “This guy – Shredder – LEAVES YOU FOR DEAD, and you guys just— ‘yeah! okay! we’ll still keep doing what he wanted, business as usual!’”

“It was a whole thing,” the bigger one defended weakly. “Like… clan-wide prophecy stuff, y’know? And the Foot Clan was just barely hanging on by a thread by that point – by then everyone in it besides us were guys we’d recruited like, a month earlier. Aaand the whole operation fell apart while we were leading it. We felt like we kinda had to go through with the whole bit, so we weren’t a shame to our clan—”

“Oh! Well in that case, my humblest apologies! Boy, that sure makes up for all the horrible things that happened to a whole lot of people because of the Krang! Never mind, you’re all good!”

Something akin to shame had spread across the pair’s faces.

“…why was the Shredder trying to release the Krang?” the loudmouth asked, suddenly not so loud anymore. “Wh… when did he tell you this?”

“We don’t know why he wanted to release them,” the rasp said. “And he didn’t tell us, not directly. It was in the history scrolls.”

“Yeah, he’d been the one to invent the ritual we’d used to open the portal,” the big one said.  “He’d just needed to find where the key’d been hidden. He’d been tearing through villages looking for it when… y’know.” He drew a line across his throat and made a squelching sound. “That happened.”

Feeling bitter and quite fed up with the entire situation (and before someone could speak over him again), Krang asked, “And who is ‘the Shredder,’ precisely?”

“He’s the guy we fought before you slimeballs turned up,” his host explained curtly, matching his energy. “He died and was supposed to lead these guys after they brought him back, but he didn’t give two rips about them. He left them under about three tons of concrete – which we dug you out from! You two sure do know how to say thank you don'tcha?? – and then we killed him a second time.”

The rasp, by this point, had taken to rubbing the back of his head, looking off towards a random corner. “Yyyeahhhh so… sorry we can’t be of any more help? I mean, as sorry as two former enemies can be, anyway.” He looked back at them, at Krang’s host specifically. “Is it… permanent?”

“No, it’s not,” the red one said, stepping forward again. “The Krang is gonna grow on Leo probably until its back to full-strength, and then it’ll be able to leave.”

The loudmouth was looking at them imploringly. “There’s got to be something that could help with this,” she repeated. “Literally anything.”

“If there’s not, it’s highly likely we’re going to have a fully grown, fully powered Krang on our hands all over again,” the purple one put in. “I very much doubt either of you want that.”

The pair glanced at each other again, both obtrusively nervous, before looking back.

“We really, genuinely don’t know anything,” the big one said, “not off the cuff, at least.”

“…buuut,” the rasp went on, grudging but trying not to be, “if you give us a few days to pour over things again, we might be able to uncover something. Heavy on the MIGHT.”

The loudmouth relaxed just slightly. “Thank you, former-senseis.”

A few more words were said before the group left the shop en masse. Krang didn’t bother listening to them. He had slipped back to the bottom of the shell-pack, contemplating.

He was having trouble deciding if he ought to attach any particular meaning to what he’d just learned. So alright, apparently there’d been a human (or at least he assumed it was a human, in retrospect he hadn’t thought to confirm this – oh well) who had both known about the Krang, had sought to free them, and the rest of his… clan, had they called it? Followed in his footsteps after he’d been dispatched. Did that do anything to affect him currently, or help him in any way?

No, he decided, it did not. This in mind, he was content to let the topic pass by, at least for now, while he focused on other, more pressing matters.

Like how he was unquestionably receiving the short end of the stick compared to his dear host.

He had no mobility, for starters. Which, admittedly, would have been the case even if something hadn’t gone nonsensically wrong, but he was supposed to be unconscious for that portion of this experience. It was therefore a sore-spot he couldn’t help but poke, and then consequently be bitter about.

The connection to his host’s emotions was, obviously, the thorniest issue, and one he didn’t know the cause of or solution to besides. He had his postulations on the whys, of course (which he’d been forced to share with the whole motley little group), but no way to confirm any of them. As for how to fix it… as far as he could tell, he couldn’t. He had to sit and wait until he was finally able to separate from his host to finally be free of all his horrid, unwieldy emotions.

Even now, they sat choking and poisonous and heavy in his chest. He could hear his host chatting with his comrades outside the shell-pack. In fact, if he wasn’t too off the mark, he’d just made a joke. Krang was confused and angry.

His host was a mouthy, insolent twit, which was another thing. He couldn’t imagine ever actually liking any host he might’ve ended up with, regardless of their species or disposition. But let the record show that said host being the main cause of temporarily derailing his plans, and needing to meet every question or comment with a disrespectful quip? Quite literally, the farthest possible thing from endearing.

He supposed he ought to be grateful that he at least had prior experience with this sort of temperament. Not many other Krang did, and therefore not many other Krang would have managed to keep their tempers like he had. (And yes, he was still including the moments he’d reacted to his host’s clear provocations as “keeping his temper.” There was a line between “needlessly throwing a fit” and “refusing to be made a mockery of.”) His brother had been much the same as his host, albeit less by way of the aforementioned (and needless) quips. It had been more to the tune of eternally sassing him whenever he'd done something his brother had disagreed with. Silently, obviously, but it had always been annoying to turn to him and have him return the glance with one of those looks of his—

The last anyone had seen of his brother had been on the Technodrome.

The Technodrome had exploded.

…just as well. For the earthlings to have taken control of the Technodrome, however briefly, meant that they would have had to defeat his brother. If he had been defeated, and then killed as a result, it meant he’d been weak. Weakness had no place amongst the Krang. He’d been rightfully cut down and his place within their legacy expunged, as was only proper. It was better this way.

(He would never see his brother again. What had been the last thing he’d said to him? Had he said anything, or had he addressed both siblings at once to give orders? He couldn’t remember. Just as well, just as well. No place for weakness. Better off without him. It was better.)

…well. Actually, it wasn’t, not logistically speaking, anyway. His brother had been the last Krang with the ability to assimilate other, non-Krang beings. Continuing the Krangs’ mighty crusade without that was likely going to prove to be an infinitely more challenging task than it would have been with, but Krang was nothing if not driven. He would come up with something. He must.

He heard his host fake a laugh. At least, he assumed it was fake, based on how knotted up his stomach felt…

Krang shifted slightly. He tensed and un-tensed his tentacles, trying to force himself to relax. He felt the blood pump through them, and inherently knew its rhythm and speed matched the rhythm and speed of the blood pumping through his host’s limbs.

His expression involuntarily scrunched in distaste. His situation was dreadful enough as it was, did he really need to be reminded of it with every beat of his hearts—?

No. Enough of that. Whining about his situation wouldn’t make it better, and was therefore a waste of energy. Anyway, he made a point of being as pragmatic as possible when it came to assessing any given circumstance. Things seemed vastly less dire that way, and therefore easier to tackle.

For example: He acutely felt his host’s emotions, whereas his host – seemingly – didn’t feel any of his. Wildly unfair, but it had its uses. His host couldn’t tell when he was lying thanks to this. He was sure of this; he’d tested it.

His host – along with all the rest of its kind – had bought his story that creatures housing a Krang would flake when said Krang was ready to leave. They did no such thing. When Krangs' bodies had developed enough to maintain necessary functions on their own, they would simply split off cleanly from their host, and that would be the end of it. What sort of backwards biological process would allot for anything else?

The earthlings were expecting something obvious to herald that he soon wouldn’t need their brother to stay alive. They were expecting a warning to give them time to prepare. They would get none.

Krang soothed himself with the thought of approaching each and every member of his host’s “clan” as they slept, thinking themselves safe from him, and lancing a tentacle through their chests. Perhaps he would leave their corpses for his host to find the next morning, and kill him last. Then he would set off to free his sister, and together they would build a plan from where to go from there.

His daydreams did nothing to dissipate the heaviness in his chest, but he supposed they did make it just slightly easier to bear.

---

Krang still hadn’t killed anything in ages. Not properly, anyway. The human charged with holding her would occasionally drop a live animal into her enclosure for her “hunt,” which would have been a laughable farce if it hadn’t been so insulting.

It offered no fight, no thrill, no creativity. It was disgraceful. Worse, it was boring.

The human had warned her that if she ever dwelt on making her quarry (such as it was) suffer for too long before killing it, it would stop supplying her with live prey altogether. All meals would be served pre-deceased, and they'd have to work out another form of “enrichment” for her. (Her wording, actually, not its. She’d meant it in the most scathing and sardonic manner possible, but the human had irritatingly taken her usage to mean it was allowed to refer to her “hunts” as such as well.) 

She wasn’t overly aggrieved by this restriction, truly. She was more annoyed at being told she couldn’t (literally) play with her food than she was at not actually being able to, if that made sense. She’d never been particularly prone of drawing out her kills, at any rate. She’d savored whatever meagre fight her adversaries might’ve tried to put up, but it was ultimately the act of killing in and of itself that held the real thrill for her. She could do without the rest.

…or so she’d thought. She maintained she didn’t care to drag her kills out or wait, but as it turned out, killing things that weren’t capable of higher-thinking just wasn’t as fun. Rather nullified the whole point, honestly. At least the creatures fared well enough as sustenance, she supposed…

Krang’s “enclosure” (again, her bitter words) was separated from the rest of the lab by some form of – lamentably unbreakable – polycarbonate, about five centimeters thick. She could see out, and whoever entered the human’s lab could see in. The enclosure was bare, for the most part, save three things:

There was a nook imbedded in the wall with a hole to enter and exit from, which she could tuck into for “privacy.” After about two and a half months of furiously tearing at the walls and beating against the polycarbonate to escape (failure on all counts, obviously), she’d spent the next two months resolutely sequestered inside that little box. Her brother would have accused her of sulking, and maybe she had been. She hadn’t especially cared at the time. She’d been forced to get over it eventually, at any rate, if only for how mind-numbingly dull it had been.

There were some bars set into the wall up closer towards the ceiling for her to climb around on. Her second-favorite place to sit was on top of them. Her smaller brother would likely have also preferred that spot, had he been forced to suffer this indignity with her. He’d always enjoyed being at heights that let him look down on other creatures. Scaling the bars was a paltry excuse for exercise, but at least it still felt as though it counted as exercise. The awful weightlessness of the prison dimension, for comparison, had made everything seem effortless. There’d been no way to expend energy, because nothing had required energy. Lovely way to make a thousand years of imprisonment feel like triple what it actually was, frankly.

Finally, there was a panel in the south-most wall that would retract whenever the human presented her with anything. It infuriatingly didn’t lead directly out into the lab (which would’ve made it her best bet of escaping), but rather it led to another little box, blocked off by another (still lamentably unbreakable) section of polycarbonate. The human would input a code or something on the other side, the polycarbonate would slide aside. It would deposit whatever it wanted to give her – usually her meals – then input another code. The polycarbonate would slide shut, lock and seal. A third, final code, and then the panel separating her from whatever it had given her would open. Effectively, even if she managed to pry the first panel open (which was a deceptively difficult task, she’d tried during her aforementioned rampage), she’d still be stuck.

Those were all the things that had been built into her enclosure, anyway. She had a small pile of bones stacked as neatly as she could manage outside her nook, all from creatures the human had given her to kill. Not overly many, mind – she usually crunched up the bones with the meat for a bit of extra texture. But the entire concept of “bones” had always fascinated her, if only for how droll it was. Were they a mark of how woefully under-evolved most species were? Of course – if they had been truly, unquestionably necessary, the Krang would have developed them. Regardless! The idea that without these thin, oh-so-easily snappable rods, most creatures would collapse into slithering puddles of flesh and blood? That was objectively hilarious, and so bizarre. How could she not be drawn to them?

When she and her brothers had been in the prison dimension, she’d had distant plans to create a mishmash of the strangest, strongest bones she could amass, and then have her brother coat them in flesh and create a brand new, ultimate creature. None of the bones she’d collected during her capture would be going towards that particular project. They were all vaguely interesting, but ultimately too… dinky for what she was envisioning. Anyway, she doubted the efficiency of trying to take them with her when she inevitably escaped. They would likely only slow her down.

The lab beyond her section had only slight variations in hue between the ceiling, walls, and floor, but for the most part, it was sterilely white. The human tried to combat this by plastering images of its spawn, its spawn’s spawn, and colorful images of nonsense about the space. Odd little figures sat uselessly tucked into corners, presumably to the same effect.

“My son’s old He-Man figures,” it had told her cheerfully (she hadn’t asked). “He left them when he moved out, and my granddaughters have no interest in them, so I called dibs and brought them to work.”

Krang hadn’t known what a “he-man” was; hadn’t cared, either. The human had resolved to educate her anyway. Which she actually wouldn’t complain about, because it had introduced the only thing she didn’t hate about earth: The television.

Particularly considering that the human had since given her access to its remote. The screen now sat on a rolling cart, permanently directed to face her enclosure, and when the human wasn’t conducting “research” on her, she had full control of what played on it.

Such was the present case: The human stood with its back to her, fiddling with materials at an island in the middle of the room. It had taken samples of her epithelial cells, and was trying infuse them with a human something-or-other. It had been the only bit of its “research” she’d willingly gone along with.

She, meanwhile, sat in her favorite spot, snickering under her breath as the human on-screen revealed to a second human that it had tricked them into eating their pet. She’d seen this episode before, but it still never failed to delight her. What a stupid species humans were…

Krang had never considered herself to be particularly optimistic, but she could acknowledge tactical advantages when she stumbled upon them. The human was soft – weak, just like the rest of its kind – she suspected to an above-average degree. It made it prone to try to talk with her, to befriend her (the utter fool). It tried to be respectful and didn’t want to hurt her.  Most importantly, it compelled it to allot her “privileges.” Because it was more “humane” or some such drivel.

Her situation wasn’t ideal, and she’d disembowel anyone who tried to argue otherwise. But at the very least, the absolute bare minimum, she had things to do. They weren’t the things she wanted to be doing, but she had options for activities nonetheless.

Her brothers, she knew for a fact, from experience, didn’t have that same luxury.

Ah. There it was. An abrupt shot of awareness, followed by a curdling sensation in her primary cavity. The smile the television had given her drooped.

Her brothers sat waiting in that horrid prison dimension, with no television, no game to kill – pathetic or otherwise – and no immediate prospects for escape. All while she sat here being entertained.

She sat like that for a second, momentarily unable to do anything but wallow in the unpleasantness of it all, before she set her jaw and took a quiet, steadying breath in and out. Her situation wasn’t ideal, and neither was her brothers’. But the one benefit they had over her was that they weren’t alone.

Krang were not like other species who could content themselves with any social interaction. Krang required other Krang. They could sense other Krang around them – needed to. It was innate. It was imperative. To not almost always guaranteed a general weakening of their fortitude, if not some form of outright emotional deterioration.

Not her, though. She was one of the last three Krang in existence – one of the three strongest creatures in the universe. This wouldn’t claim her. She wouldn’t allow it.

All the same, Krang was bitterly aware that her initial self-imposed seclusion had come to an end not only because of sheer boredom, but because the complete lack of anyone around her had been causing her acute distress. The human wasn’t her first choice of company (or second, or third or hundred-thousandth), but it was something. Which, thankfully, proved to be enough to take the edge off her isolation, and in turn make it at least tolerably torturous.

Her brothers, on the secondary tentacle, had each other, which was worth at least a thousand humans, respectively.

The technodrome had exploded, caught in the closing portal between earth and the prison dimension. She'd heard one of the pathetic creatures who'd been fighting her brothers back aboard the ship demand the portal be closed over the communication devices of the earthlings who'd been opposing her. This resulted in both it and her brother – her leader – being trapped on the other side. So that was him accounted for. During her time in captivity, she hadn’t heard of any other Krang running amok outside or getting captured themselves, and no one had come to help her escape. Which – since her smaller brother had also been aboard the technodrome at the time of its apparent infiltration and consequent destruction – could only mean that he had also been sent back to the prison dimension.

She could picture the scene very clearly, actually: Her first brother would have wasted no time in exacting righteous vengeance on the maggot that had trapped him again. Her other brother would have meanwhile whizzed through the weightless nothingness of the prison dimension in the background, propelled forward by the technodrome’s explosion. He’d made a strange, unintentional habit of getting blown across the way over the centuries, often in increasingly odd and unlikely ways.

Their leader had formed a parallel habit of catching him whenever he found himself getting launched. It was amusing to imagine that he’d kept his record even while he’d raged. Smash rend tear scream smash SWIPE OUT OF AIR, SET DOWN scream rip tear smash—

Which was another, admittedly separate thing, but tangentially related enough: Her brother had made a crack about her temper when he was interrogating the thing they’d captured, right after they’d first escaped. Typical enough behavior for him, he’d been known to rib her and their smaller brother at random. Presumably just for his own amusement – very irritating stuff, if ultimately harmless.

Regardless, where did he get the audacity to comment on her temper, as though the little fit he’d go on to throw didn’t say anything about his? His proverbial fuse may have been longer than hers, but when he did finally explode it was always apocalyptic. If she hadn’t admired him so much for it, she would have been perpetually outraged by his hypocrisy.

She remembered laughing as she’d listened to him unleash his fury on their enemy, her admiration at the forefront of her mind. Almost directly in spite of how utterly atrocious the whole situation had been. The Krang had lost. She’d known they’d lost. But she’d laughed anyway, because their enemies had lost too. The way they’d broken down and wept as they’d listened to her brother work had made that very apparent.

Her brothers would persevere – they couldn’t say the same for theirs.

…or so she’d thought. Through means she couldn’t fathom and were ultimately too unfair to contemplate, they had managed to extract their brother from the prison dimension. The ones who had engaged her brothers in combat had called in with the “good news” shortly before the other humans had come to collect her. She’d caught a glimpse of them all watching in the distance as she was hauled off, every miserable one of them. In her resulting fury, she’d screamed so hard she’d thought her throat might collapse.

The memory was still enough to set her mind alight with rage, which she carefully smothered. It wasn’t the time nor the place for that – save it for once she escaped, and could actually do something about it. Because there was no option whether she would escape or not. If she didn’t, the last vestiges of the mighty Krang would be snuffed out, which wasn’t an option. She needed to escape, and once again find the key so she could free her brothers. Nobody else was going to, and she certainly couldn’t overtake this entire planet all by herself.

True, she had no idea where the key might be now, nor really any way to track it. Nor actually use it, come to think of it – she’d need her smaller brother to create a portal to use the key, or at least that was her understanding of things. But then, the humans had managed to open the portal the first time without a Krang to help, so it was doable, somehow…

Right, yes, cross all these bridges as she came to them – it was all conjecture at this point, anyway. What was important now was to focus on escaping, and then she could go on from there. Her brothers would be fine in the meantime, and her situation was comfortable enough were she could afford to bide her time. When the moment was right, she’d make her move.

She glanced away from the television, staring at the human’s back. All she needed was the opportunity…

Sharp rapping against the lab’s door drew both Krang and the human’s attention towards it. After the barest of seconds, they looked at each other, locking eyes. Krang shook her head shortly – pretend you aren’t here. There was only one human who knocked like that when visiting the lab, and if allowed inside it would almost assuredly stay a while to rant.

She was almost to her favorite part of the episode. If it ranted, she’d have to sit and wait for it to finish before she could continue.

The human gave her a look that was both apologetic and mutually exasperated as it moved towards the door. Krang sagged, reluctantly snatching up the remote and pressing pause, cutting off a speculation that “Nosy Wally” had come to visit mid-sentence.

“Hello John—” she heard it begin, but before it could finish the “john” was already stalking past him further into the lab.

(“Won’t you please come in?” the human sighed from the door, closing it resignedly before moving back into the lab itself.)

The john sent her a withering glare, same as it always did whenever it visited the lab. She sent one of her own back its way, as per custom.

The polycarbonate was thick enough as to indecipherably muffle sounds on either side. The way the human communicated with her from beyond it was therefore very roundabout, requiring speakers and microphones. The speakers sat in the two topmost corners of her enclosure, above her climbing bars. She had contemplated destroying them once or twice, just to be spiteful, but eventually decided against it. Without the speakers, she wouldn’t be able to hear the television.

(She had no idea where the microphone that let it hear her was hidden, so destroying that had never been an option. Oh well – if she had to listen to the human, the least she could do was make it listen to her.)

The biggest downside to this method of communication was, unfortunately, that the human was able to effectively shut her out of any conversation it chose to. All it had to do was turn off the microphone and speakers. Just like that, and all she could hear were indistinct mutterings, and she could only offer just as much back. The human did this whenever the john came to visit, because (she assumed) for however much it liked to play at a veneer of companionship, they were all still on opposing sides. It would be monstrously stupid to let her know what they were discussing with each other.

It switched off the speakers and microphone as it made its way to stand in front of the john to address it. She now couldn’t hear clearly enough to attach any meaning to the sounds they were making.

How lucky, then, that she could read lips.

(Luckier still, the human wasn’t aware she could do this.)

The john glared at the still images waiting on the television screen, then rounded on the human. ‘What is this supposed to be?’

‘Ah, yes,’ the human said, nodding at the television as if just reminded of its existence, ‘that would be what we call a ‘television,’ John. ‘Telly’ if you’re from across the pond – we use it to watch things like serialized programs and films—’

Krang couldn’t hear the john growling, but she’d both witnessed and performed the action enough to understand that it had. ‘Don’t try to be cute with me, Xeinos – why is it in your lab?’

‘To watch the aforementioned serialized programs and films, John, why else?’

Another snarl, and a sharp gesture was thrown in her direction. ‘Why is it facing that THING if you’re ‘watching’ it?’

Krang’s face twitched, begging to twist into a snarl of her own, but she forced it to remain neutral. If she offered too much of a response to anything that was said, the humans might put together that she could understand what they were saying. If that happened, they might start taking their conversations outside the lab.

Granted, nothing they’d spoken about over the past few years was particularly useful. It was mostly just the john barging in, hurling abuse at the other human, taking every opportunity to insult her (the wretched little worm), and then leaving even angrier than it’d been when it arrived. Regardless, she liked knowing what was going on, even if the information was functionally useless. It put her at ease, somehow. It wasn’t like she had any other way to keep tabs on what was happening around her, anyway…

‘I never said I’d been the one watching it, John,’ the human pointed out. Far be it from Krang to admire absolutely anything about this planet’s worthless creatures, but she could admit that she was at least… appreciative of this particular human’s ability to shut down verbal altercations without rising to them. Its general unflappability reminded her of her brother a bit, actually. Even if its demeanor was far too… upbeat for the comparison to go any deeper than surface level.

That association made, of course, she became grumpily aware that there were parallels to be made about the john as well. Not towards either of her brothers, but rather towards herself.

Krang knew she could be a bit techy sometimes (she ~“had a temper,”~ what had she done to deserve such annoying brothers?), but if there was one thing she emphatically refused to be, it was a hypocrite. So despite loathing the john, she didn’t begrudge it for the way it puffed up in rage. She would have been infuriated by that sort of backtalk as well.

(Of course, she would have just slain her opposition where they stood and been done with it, which for some reason the john refused to do. Despite very clearly despising the other human in front of it, and likely being more than capable of overpowering it. Stars above, humans were pathetic…)

The john and the other human had had a few heated and bored words (respectively) about letting her watch the television. The conversation proved to be inconsequential enough that she hadn’t bothered to really catalogue what was being said beyond the basic gist of it: The john didn’t think she deserved to watch television and was angry at the other human for letting her. The other human didn’t care.

‘Let’s cut to the chase here, Xeinos,’ the john finally snapped, as though it hadn’t been the one making a fuss about something arbitrary. ‘I don’t like you and you don’t like me, however—’

‘I’d like you just fine if you’d stop tromping around acting like your personal prejudices take precedence over everyone else’s jobs,’ the human interjected. ‘If you can get over that little quirk, I think there might be hope for us yet.’

The john glared. ‘However, I really think it would be in everyone’s – and I mean EVERYONE’S, yours, mine, humanity’s as a whole – best interest for you to reconsider your position on what we’d talked about the other day.’

‘John—’

‘Have you heard the rumors about the non-human ‘heroes’ who’d ‘stopped the invasion’?’ the john asked. Its expression on the word “heroes” indicated it disagreed with the sentiment to the extreme.

Krang could relate. The thought that those vile, disgusting cretins were being heralded as “heroes” while her brothers languished—

The human reached up to press its index and thumb into its eyes, massaging them long-sufferingly for a moment. She saw it say ‘Christ, I was wondering when you’d latch onto that…’ in what she presumed was an undertone. The john didn’t openly react to it, at least. Which, considering it usually reacted to everything, implied it hadn’t heard the comment.

‘Yes, John, I’ve heard this or that through the grapevine. What does that have to do with your present request?’ the human finally asked as it once more raised its head, its expression denoting exhaustion.

With the air of someone dropping a bomb of irrefutable truth, the john jerked its head towards her. ‘They’re in league with that thing, Xeinos. It’s all a scam.’

…oh absolutely NOT—

“In league” with HER?! It thought she would ever willingly associate with those things?! She was not exaggerating in the slightest when she internally compared the struggle of keeping the snarl of abject disgust off her face with fighting for her life.

‘…John I am BEGGING you to tell me you’re joking,’ the human said. (Krang was as well!)

‘It makes sense,’ the john insisted hotly. ‘The aliens sent out some of their own agents to ‘defeat’ them with the intention of launching a surprise attack later, that’s why we’re still cleaning up after them! They’re still HERE, and they’re biding their time! Open your eyes!’ Then, more fiercely still, ‘Or are you going to try to explain this all away? Go on, Xeinos, impress me: What’s the convenient little loophole you’ve got hidden up your sleeve that’ll let you ignore all logic in favor of coddling a monster?’

‘She’s expressed supreme HATRED towards these exact people you’re referencing,’ the human replied, expression flat, ‘is that enough?’

Never before had Krang been so happy she’d vented her frustrations to someone, even if that someone had been a lowly human. Her intentions had been one part needing to expunge some of the rage from her system, lest she explode, and one part hoping the human would be intrigued and adjust its focus to tracking them down to “study” them. Previous conversations had elucidated that creatures like the ones she and her brothers had fought were about as unknown to humans as the Krang themselves. If she had to suffer in here, she didn’t think it was fair that they should be allowed to roam free.

The human had seemed only vaguely interested, and she almost thought it hadn’t believed her. Oh well – at least it was putting their conversation to use by trying to deflect this stupidity.

Rather than looking placated, the john puffed up once again, indignant and enraged. ‘It’s CONFIRMED these things exist to you?!’ it demanded. ‘That is a massive point towards some kind of collusion, if not outright proof. More than ever, you need to—’

‘My response to your earlier request stands firm, John,’ the human cut in. ‘I will not grant you control over Krang.’

…oh. Well. That was… not something she'd been aware was in contest…

Surprisingly, the john seemed to use this moment to reel itself in. It looked like the effort might give it an aneurysm, but it still clearly tried. ‘Xeinos, I know we’ve… we’ve had our differences, but believe me when I say I need to talk with the alien to properly do my job. If you let me do this, I swear to you that I won’t cause any permanent damage to it—’

‘Like how you didn’t cause any permanent damage to the zeta reticulan?’ the human asked suddenly. Its expression had gone uncharacteristically cold.  

Krang’s face jumped to surprise before she could stop it. She corrected it as quickly as she could, and she doubted either of the humans noticed. That question carried strong implications, none of which she liked. Was… was she not the first the humans had held prisoner?

(What “permanent damage” had the john caused to them?)

‘…it was… unreceptive to questioning. It turned violent. My methods may have seemed outwardly excessive, but it was only because it had broken free and I’d needed to subdue it—’

‘Literally every other agent who interacted with them commented on how quiet and curious and friendly they were,’ the human interrupted. ‘And they could barely hold up their own body weight because they were still adjusting to earth’s gravity. You expect me to believe that, not only did their personality undergo a complete 180-degree shift for seemingly no reason, but they also spontaneously became accustomed to a level of gravity they would have never naturally encountered in their lives? All at the same exact moment?’

The john’s lip curled. ‘Well it doesn’t really matter what YOU believe, does it, Xeinos?’ it spat in return. ‘Our superiors did.’

‘Not enough to leave you in charge of any aliens you brought into custody from that point on though, isn’t that right, John?’ the human demanded. ‘If I recall, it was almost immediately following that incident that the higher-ups started putting me in charge of whoever you brought in… Strange coincidence, don’t you think?’

Krang sat somewhere between marginally impressed and slightly unsettled by how much the human’s bearing had shifted. It barely resembled the weak, chatty old creature she’d come to know over the last three years. She hardly recognized it.

‘You will not be getting access to Krang, John, not today,’ it said firmly. ‘Or tomorrow, or the next day, or… well, you’re smart. I’m sure you’ve picked up on the pattern.’

The john snarled again, going so far as to actually bare its teeth. She was almost certain it was going to lurch forward and bite the other human. Just as the tension in the room reached its zenith, the john moved forward, so suddenly and violently that watching it gave the impression it had literally ripped its feet up from where they’d been planted on the floor, and… shoved past the other human and out the door. It slammed it so hard behind it she felt the rattle of it from within her enclosure.

A few seconds passed in silence as the human took a moment to compose itself. It walked over to the panel that controlled the speakers and microphones, and once more switched them on. When it turned back to her, it was sporting an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the interruption, Krang,” it said, “you may return to your regularly scheduled programming now.”

She glanced down at the remote half-laying beneath her tentacle. “What did it want?” she inquired rather than hit play.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to ask, truly. She already knew it hadn’t been anything important. But then, maybe that was the reason right there. It wasn’t important. So there was no reason for the human not to tell her, right? If it was all just bluster, why not commiserate a bit, as it seemed to love to do?

Another pause, much shorter than the previous but still obtrusively there. “John feels I’m not finishing my research quick enough, and he’s very annoyed by it,” it finally said. “He was even more annoyed when I told him I wouldn’t be altering my methods just to suit him.”

With an odd sort of unwaveringness, it finished, “John can rant and rave as much as he likes, he won’t be getting his way on this if I can help it. It’s nothing to trouble yourself with, Krang, don’t fret.”

Krang hummed distantly. She hit play, already knowing she wouldn’t be paying much attention. She had the sudden, disquieting notion that the human hadn’t been muting its conversations with the john solely for security reasons, sentimental fool that it was.

“Permanent damage” the john had said. They had both said. One in the (very likely false, it seemed) assertion that it wouldn’t happen, and one in the assumption that it would.

Normally, this would have been ridiculous – laughable. Normally, she might have even welcomed it to try. Krangs’ regenerative abilities were unmatched in the universe, and their level of pain-tolerance was generally higher than most other species. Hers was a cut above even that. Normally, she’d have invited the john to try whatever it could think of to “permanently damage” her, and then laugh at its pathetic attempts. Afterwards she would crack open its ribs at the sternum, and finally make her long-overdue escape.

Normally. Normally, she wasn’t amongst creatures that had produced a substance that could lastingly damage Krangs’ cells to the point they couldn’t regenerate. It had been three years, and her eye still hadn’t grown back. And whatever that stuff had been, it had hurt. If the john implemented anything similar…

“Permanent damage” was not an option. “Permanent damage” would likely render her incapable of escaping at all. “Permanent damage” meant she wouldn’t be able to—

No matter. It was no matter at all. She may have to expedite her plans a bit, perhaps. But, just as likely, perhaps not. The human may very well be able to keep the john at bay until she had the opening she was waiting for. If not, she’d somehow make it work. She had to.

Krang pressed her back further into her favorite corner, fruitlessly trying to pretend the two walls on either side were her brothers pressing back.

Notes:

Rhiannon Knight and Winston Rook belong to the amazing thewiglesswonder. She gave me permission to use them to flesh the EPF out a little more. It's... tragic, frankly, that John didn't accept to sit and have coffee with them. The fic would've been much different if he had. Or at least, his part in it would've been. (Me and Wig have a whole AU for that, if anyone’s interested.)

Chapter 7: Somehow the Bank Robbery ISN'T the Most Fraught Thing Going On Right Now

Notes:

I wrote this to escape the sense of existential dread that's been crushing me lately. Whatever gets ya updating in a reasonable time-frame, amirite?

It’d been about two weeks since everything had shaken down. Adjusting been… hard, which Raph could’ve predicted from the beginning. How were they supposed to carry on like normal when one of their most (if not the most) terrifying enemies was semi-permanently latched on to one of them?

Raph had called into work for the first few days, just to keep an eye on things. He’d cited a family emergency – which wasn’t a lie by any stretch – and thankfully no one had asked too many questions. (A couple of his students had even made him some cards to cheer him up. As soon as they went home with their parents he’d burst into tears.)

The only reason he was able to finally make himself go back was because the rest of the fam seemed more than prepared to pick up the slack. Dad might as well have been attached to Leo too, because he pretty much shadowed him around the Lair. Mikey was never farther than a room away from him at any given point, and Donnie was constantly checking in to run tests on his vitals and ask if anything felt off. April and Casey had been popping in after work every day to see if there were any updates.

The Krang, meanwhile, tended to stay tucked away inside Leo’s shell, and seemed to only come out when especially annoyed. Which was definitely preferable to the alternative, but it was still upsettingly impossible to forget it was there. Everyone might as well be walking on eggshells for how tense they were.

…well. Almost everyone was walking on eggshells. Leo barely seemed bothered. If Raph hadn’t known any better, he almost wouldn’t have suspected anything was wrong. He was still cracking dumb jokes, same as always, still taking good-natured digs at everyone and anyone. Including the motherfracking Krang, who would crawl out to bitch about it without fail. Honestly, the contrast between his behavior and the actual situation at hand kinda only served to make Raph – and everyone else – even MORE tense. Because what the hell?

At the same time, no one really wanted to call him out on it. Like… what were they supposed to say? “Leo! Stop that! Be sadder! You’re freaking us out!”?

And here was Raph’s biggest concern – was this actually Leo acting like this? Or was the Krang controlling him to act like nothing was wrong like some… sick, twisted puppet—

(Oh God don’t think of puppets, not right now, don’t think of puppets, don’t think of your little brother becoming a puppet—)

Sure, the Krang claimed it didn’t personally have the power to do that, and fine, Raph himself had never seen it give any indication that it could, but that didn’t mean it was telling the truth. Maybe it’d done something different than what they’d seen the first time. The little Krang had turned everyone into mindless zombies – emphasis on mindless. Raph didn’t think he’d had a single thought the entire time he was under. Like… he was aware of what was going on around him, in a way, he just hadn’t had any opinions or feelings on any of it. It wasn’t until Leo managed to get through to him that his emotions finally burst back into place.

Leo clearly still had thoughts and feelings, but since the Krang was connected to him, maybe it was controlling the thoughts and feelings—

…no. That didn’t feel right either. Not only were Raph’s Overprotective Brother Senses steering away from that concept (which honestly, he trusted more than anything else at the moment), but that didn’t really mesh with what Raph had seen of this particular Krang’s MO. It’d been able to go into people’s brains, not control them. Why would it have ordered the little one to krangify him if it’d been able to do it itself? Especially considering it’d already gone into Raph’s head once by that point?

Raph was seized by a full-body shudder thinking about it. It wasn’t the first; he was frustrated to know it wouldn’t be the last.

If he looked at the Krang too long (or worse now, looked at Leo too long), he’d remember what it had felt like to have its tentacles burrow into his brain.

Well… except, not really. Its tentacles hadn’t even broken the skin, much less gone directly into his brain. They’d more sort of… temporarily fused with it (his skin, that was). Which apart from feeling plain freaky, hadn’t hurt, exactly. Beyond that, there hadn’t been much of a physical sensation to it at all. Except also, there had been? It was really confusing.

There’d been such an intense sense of wrongness to it all that there might as well have been a physical sensation attached. His own thoughts had gotten shuffled through like someone would a shoebox full of Polaroids. He hadn’t been able to feel-feel it, because like… duh, you can’t feel your memories (or at least Raph couldn’t, s’pose he couldn’t talk for all the other people in the world). But here’s the thing – he hadn’t been in charge of the shuffle.

Having his own thoughts and memories get wrenched around the inside his head, with no way to control or stop them, hadn’t felt great. It’d been pretty panic-inducing actually. So in that way having his memories fussed with had had a physical sensation to it. It’d felt like his heart was about to pound out of his chest, like he might throw up, like he couldn’t breathe.

Altogether, not great. Not fun.

The scariest thing he could think of was that his little brother was feeling something similar right now, and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help him. If he’d been stuck before, he didn’t even know what he qualified as now. A wedged turtle, in a great deal of tightness. In a word: Irremovable.

…it said something about the whole situation that not even a quote from The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, arguably the most wholesome and comforting movie to ever exist, could make him feel any better.

Raph sighed, glancing around the room. If he hadn’t known better, it would’ve seemed like a perfectly chill evening. Leo and Dad were in front of the projector, and Dad was chatting with him about some of his favorite Scorpion Treadmill contestants (maybe a bit more animatedly than normal, but that could’ve been overlooked). Mikey sat on the floor cross-legged, sketching something in his sketch book. Donnie was off in his lab, probably contentedly breaking the laws of physics or something.

And there was an alien parasite snuggled up all nice and cozy inside his brother’s shell. Yep. Perfectly chill.

He sighed again.

Raph didn’t realize he was hearing persistent beeping until just about a second before Donnie slid into view from around the corner.

“We’ve got a 314-28.9/2,” he said seriously, indicating the flashing (and still beeping) panel on his wrist.

Everyone stared.

“…SIGH. There is a bank robbery happening topside. Seriously, I compiled a whole book of codes for these situations, it would kill exactly none of you to look through it!”

OH—

“Why do we need codes, why can’t you just say what you mean the first time?” Mikey asked, leaping up from his project and grabbing his chuks.

“It’s shorter to say!”

“A ‘34567-75.2246’ is not shorter to say than ‘bank robbery’!” Leo insisted, hopping over the back of the couch.

Everyone faltered to a stop.

Leo stuttered to a halt several paces behind them. “…what?”

 Mikey and Donnie hesitantly glanced at Raph. Of course.

“Uh… Leo,” he tried, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you sure you… y’know, wanna come, considering…?”

Leo was looking from him, to Donnie, to Mikey, and back. “‘Considering…’?” he prompted, and Raph couldn’t tell if his tone was nervous or challenging (or hell, both).

Raph only just barely stopped from rolling his eyes. “‘Considering’ you’ve got a guy who doesn’t like you suction-cupped to the inside of your shell? That’s… that’s stressful, right there. There’s no shame if you wanna hang back and chill. We can handle a bank robbery.”

If I let you come with us and you got hurt somehow because of that THING, I’ll never forgive myself, is what he WANTED to say. But if he said that then Leo would brush him off on principle, probably by claiming he’d survived worse.

Which was the point. That was the whole entire point. He’d survived “worse,” just barely, and now “worse” was stuck to his back.

Pops was apparently on the same page as Raph, because he was trying to motion Leo back to where he’d been sitting next to him. “Red is right, Blue. Come sit! You stay here, and we could put on a Lou Jistu movie! Orrr maybe one of your Jupiter Jim’s!”

Leo looked at all of them. He was doing the thing he’d done since they were shorter than Dad – whenever he really wanted to keep what he was feeling off his face, he would force it to be neutral. He’d never been very good at making it completely neutral, granted – you could always tell there was something going on just beneath the surface. But to his credit, Raph couldn’t 100% say what it was right then, which was probably the whole point anyway.

“I’m fine you guys, I swear,” he said. “I’m not ‘stressed’ and I don’t need to sit out and chill.”

His face seemed to snap back to normal suddenly, its usual grin back in place, and he began ushering them forward. “So lessgo! The longer we stand around chit-chatting the more time the bad guys have to get away!”

Donnie and Mikey each took an unsure step in the direction Leo was trying to herd them. Raph didn’t move.

“Leo, seriously, you don’t have to—”

“SHUT UP and let him come with already, you complete lackwit!!”

Everyone froze. The Krang hadn’t bothered to crawl out of Leo’s shell this time (usually it liked to make eye-contact with the people it berated), but its voice was unmistakable.

Just as Raph was about to square up and insist that Leo stay behind – because if that thing wanted Leo to go, it couldn’t mean anything good was on the horizon – Leo rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and groaned.

“Ya see what I have to put up with? No patience, always yelling – this is why I need to get outta here, honestly. If I don’t distract myself with something I’m gonna lose my marbles.” He turned to Raph expectantly. “You want a brother with no marbles? Is that it?” Then to Donnie and Mikey. “Hmm? You guys wanna deal with that?”

Before any of them could answer, he nodded definitively. “Yeah. I didn’t think so. Off we go!”

And with that he slid past all of them, taking the lead on the way to the exit.

Raph, Donnie and Mikey all looked at each other. They all looked back at Dad. After a moment, he gave a helpless “go on” gesture, and they slowly followed after Leo.

---

It was sweet that his family cared about him so much.

Leo maneuvered from building top to building top, scanning the streets, and hearing his brothers trail behind him. Usually Raph would take the lead, or Donnie if none of the rest of them knew where they were heading, but he kinda felt he needed to take point right then. If he didn’t, he couldn’t guarantee his brothers wouldn’t shoo him back home. He’d hung back long enough for Donnie to fill everyone in on where the robbery was happening, then he took off.

It wasn’t that he didn’t get where they were coming from, because he did, really. Let’s say the shoe was on the other foot, let’s say Raph had been the guy with a new Krang attachment. Leo probably also would’ve suggested he sit out for a while. For his own emotional well-being, if nothing else. All the Krang stuff had been hard on Raph, and – in this hypothetical scenario – having one stuck to him (again) would probably stress him out. Which would then mean that he probably wouldn’t be completely mentally present for whatever they might be heading out to deal with.

Which! Probably Raph’s whole thing right now! He was projecting how he’d feel onto Leo, and trying to get him to do what would probably most benefit him if he were in his spot! Typical Overprotective Big Brother Raph! It probably went a little deeper, even, and this was why everyone had been hovering so freaking much lately. Raph thought what he was doing would help, Mikey and Donnie just followed his lead (because he was the leader), and then Dad was his dad, which was why he was being so clingy. It was all actually really considerate when you dissected it a little!

The problem was that even though this kind of thing might’ve helped Raph if he’d been in Leo’s shoes, it wasn’t what Leo needed. He hadn’t been affected by the Krang like Raph had— well. Apart from all the… the injuries and physical trauma and stuff. But all that had healed up a long time ago, and he was fine now! All that was left from that whole debacle were some scars! It wasn’t like with Raph, whose scars were mostly mental and emotional because of Leo, because he hadn’t fucking listened and ran to get the key when Raph said to retreat, because he thought he knew better than everyone else, and oh look, what was he doing again now, running off ahead of his brothers? apart from his eye. So there wasn’t any logic in Leo sitting out. Apart from being constantly annoyed, he was fine!

He could help! He wanted to help!

He crested the final building, finally catching sight of the bank. He grappled down to ground-level, and drew his swords as he approached the glass doors. No alarms. Weird, considering this was, y’know, a bank. And even if you weren’t robbing it they typically didn’t like when people went inside it after hours. Which someone definitely was, because when Leo tentatively tried the door, is opened without trouble.

Another thing about banks: They almost always locked up after business hours, to better aid in the “we don’t want people in here right now” sentiment. So something was unquestionably up. He heard his brothers come up behind him, and with a quick glance to make sure they had their weapons out just in case (they did) Leo carefully led the way inside.

They fanned out, silently checking the lobby and front desk for anything weird. Everything checked out right up until they checked the door to that lead back to the vault, and found it just as unlocked as the front.

Ah. There was Hypno, waving his hands dramatically at the vault, which seemed to be in the process of unlocking itself. Good! A familiar, unfriendly face! Maybe the familiarity would help things feel halfway back to normal!

Since they went way back and everything, Leo greeted him as such: “Hypno! My man! Been a while!”

Hypno, who’d had his back to them, jolted at the sound of another person’s voice, and whipped around to face them. Upon seeing who’d snuck up on him, his shoulders sagged and his ears drooped.

“Oh bugger, why is it always you four?”

Leo smiled. There we go! Sweet normalcy! He was feeling better already! “Like I said, it’s been a while! We missed you! Had to come check in!”

Hypno pinched the space between his eyes, squeezing them shut. “How did you even know I was here? I disabled the alarms as soon as I got in!”

“Which still left juuust enough of a window for my scanners to pick up on that which the police’s might have overlooked!” Donnie explained triumphantly.

Hypno scoffed. “You all seriously need a hobby or something…”

“This is our hobby, baby!” Mikey cheered. Apparently the normalcy that was helping Leo was spreading.

Heartened, Leo planted one of his swords in the ground and leaned forward against it.

“Enough about us, though,” he said, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Because I mean… seriously, man? There is no way you’re hurting for cash so bad that you need to rob a bank. You’re leagues above, like— pretty much every other stage magician out there because of your mutant powers—”

“Thank you!”

“—don’t mention it, anyway, even if you WEREN’T, um. You’re a talking hippo.” Falling even heavier against his sword, he finished, “That’s gotta be worth something. Novelty points, at least.”

Hypno shrugged. “I might be a magician by trade, but I’m still a villain. Gotta do something dastardly every once and a while, y’know?”

“…so you’re robbing a bank?” Raph clarified.

Mikey, who’d draped himself over Raph’s shoulder, nodded along. “Yeah, isn’t that like… the most cliché villain plot ever?”

“I concur,” Donnie said, shouldering his tech-bō. “It lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, and is definitely bereft of the usual creativity that we’ve come to expect from you. Tsk-tsk.”

 “Hey now,” Hypno said, now looking mildly offended. “I’m using my magic to do the robbing, and I’m effectively making everyone’s savings disappear. It’s perfectly thematically appropriate.”

He straightened his jacket with a pointed “hmph!” but after a moment he conceded, “At any rate, I come up with my best plots when I’m consulting with my roomie, but he’s been feeling a little under the weather lately. So—”

But he was cut off by a quartet of groans before he could continue. Affronted, he demanded, “What?!”

“Dude, seriously?” Leo asked. “It’s been like… five years. Could you both please stop calling each other ‘roomie’ and just say ‘boyfriend’??”

“Where’s the intrigue in that?” Hypno asked, horrified. “Where’s the panache? If we come out and say ‘oh, that’s my boyfriend,’ then that’s it, isn’t it? Pretty cut’n dry, right? But what’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear ‘they were roommates?’”

“Oh my God, they were roommates,” Mikey recited, sounding like an epiphany had just hit.

Hypno snapped his fingers, pointing at Mikey triumphantly. “Exactly. Is everything as it appears? Are we just roommates, or is there more? You can’t tell for sure, but you want to learn!” He gave a satisfied nod. “That’s the first rule of showmanship, or really anything where an audience is involved: Always sprinkle in a little mystery to pull them in.”

That was good advice, actually. What Leo would personally use it for he wasn’t sure, considering he wasn’t an entertainer by any means, but still. He privately tucked the tidbit away for future use anyway.

Raph, apparently, wasn’t as enthused. “Riiight… so, anyway, what are the odds you’ll cut your losses and beat it now that we caught you red-handed?”

“Mm. Not great,” Hypno admitted, waving his arm out in front of him. Three magic ring-blades popped into existence from seemingly nowhere. “Won’t be my losses I’m cutting, at any rate.”

Hypno threw the first ring at Raph, presumably either because he was the biggest target, there was a chance he might make it a twofer and hit Mikey, or both. Whatever the reasoning, the effect was the same: Everyone scattered.

And the fight was on.

Donnie was closest, so Hypno redirected the rings after him. He ducked at the last second, and Mikey, who’d risen up behind him, used his battle shell as a springboard, chuks flailing and flaming.

The rings that had missed Donnie swung back around, knocking Mikey’s chuks off-course. Three more were summoned out of nowhere, and then all six were sent en masse their direction. Within the small space of the backroom, there wasn’t enough room to effectively dodge, so they all beat it backwards out the door, back to the front of the building where there was more room. Hypno followed after them.

(Obviously. Not like he could just slam the door behind them and go back to what he’d been doing. Though Leo would admit, that would’ve been funny.)

As soon as Hypno cleared the doorway, Raph put his head down and charged, intent on throwing a punch that – if Leo had to take a guess – would’ve knocked Hypno all the way to Manhattan. He pulled back his fist just as he got within striking range, and—

DOVES!

Raph gave a strangled noise of fear and alarm, dancing back as they all shot towards his face. He dropped to the ground, covering his head, and the flock made a collective U-turn back his way. But just as they made their second dive, guess what? Portal time, baby!

“My doves!” Hypno cried, watching them all vanish into a portal to Central Park. Leo was halfway to making a hilarious quip when it struck him that he was maybe standing just a bit too close to Hypno.

Literally. It literally struck him. As in, “he had just been sucker-punched and was now lying in a heap behind the front desk.”

Leo shook the stars out of his eyes and ignored both the pounding in his head and the furious hissing in his shell not now, let him have this, not now. He bounced back to his feet, ready to leap back into battle—

He noticed a bowl of Dum-Dums sitting on the desk out of the corner of his eye. …well! Since he was here…!

He grabbed a mystery-flavor off the top, quickly tearing off the wrapper and popping it into his mouth (cotton candy! score!), and then he leapt back into battle.

Hypno was sending more rings after Mikey this time. Well, a portal had worked to get rid of the doves… He raised his sword, preparing to open another one.

He’d needed this. The adrenaline, the knowing what to expect, even the brief shots of pain to keep him grounded. He’d needed this—

Suddenly he was hitting the ground, his legs swept out from under him. Hypno had apparently anticipated what he’d been about to do, and sent a ring in low while his focus had been on the ones aimed at Mikey.

Leo scrambled to his feet and looked up, realizing too late that another ring was speeding directly at him, he had to get his sword up—!

The ring stopped inches from his face, whirring persistently against what had gotten in its way, before it was summarily deflected. It clattered as it hit the floor some distance away.

Leo’s sword was still down by his side. He hadn’t had the chance to bring it up to block.

Krang turned towards Hypno from where he clung to Leo’s shoulder, the tentacle he’d used to stop the ring still held aloft, and gave him a cold, murderous glare.

---

“—absolutely appalling, you manage to survive the most deadly race in the universe and yet somehow almost die at the hands of whatever that thing was—!”

“Huh y’know that kinda says more about you guys than it does me when you think about it—”

“Shut up!”

“—and I had everything under control before you stuck your big stupid face into it—!”

“You were about to be sliced in half—!”

“It woulda been a cut, AT MOST. If I hadn’t blocked in time, which I was literally about to do right before you popped out—!”

“I refuse to let myself be killed just to avoid bruising your ego—!”

“—anyway even if I hadn’t I could’ve handled getting a scratch or two, I’ve literally been through worse, thanks for that! Not my problem if you can’t—”

“How dare you—!”

This was the tune they’d been dancing to since they got home, which was creeping up on an hour now. Leo had managed to shake everyone else, and was now pacing agitatedly around his room, yelling back and forth with a pissy infection.

After Krang had popped out, Hypno had blurted all the expected questions (“is that what I think it is/why is it here/what is it doing with you specifically” etc. etc. etc.), and then everyone had a nice, awkward conversation explaining the situation to the guy who’d been trying to slice and dice them a few moments prior. At least until Leo took advantage of his distraction and opened a portal directly underneath him (hope he liked Jersey). Crisis averted!

Not that he’d hung around to get accolades for it. He didn’t know if his brothers would comment on what had dragged Krang out in the first place. They’d probably point and shout “proof!” as to why he should’ve stayed home, and it’d just be a lot of “I told you so”s. Or worse, they’d just look worried.

He really couldn’t deal with that right now. Just when things had been starting to feel better, it had all fallen apart again. He made a drive-by quip that almost sounded like he agreed he should’ve stayed home to placate them (but not quite, because he didn’t agree), opened another portal, and then skedaddled off to his room before anyone could comment.

…well. Almost. Unfortunately he couldn’t escape the person who was hellbent on “commenting” his dumb, gummy face off.

Leo took out the Dum-Dum he’d still been sucking on and shoved it into Krang’s mouth, shutting him up mid-rant. “Why are you still ragging on this, anyway? It’s done, why bother throwing a hissy-fit about it now?”

Krang spat the sucker out, disgusted. “Apart from needing to exorcise my general frustration and humiliation at being attached to you, you mean?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Disrespectfully, I don’t really care how anything I do makes you feel, dude. You hitched your carriage to this horse – against the horse’s wishes – so you’re kinda stuck with—”

“That’s another thing!” Krang interrupted, his tentacles tightening around Leo's shoulder. “You want to talk about feelings? Why are YOURS broken?”

Leo huffed, feeling scrutinized. “Look man, I don’t know what to tell ya—”

“You could ‘tell me’ how to stop you from making us both feel like we’re dying, perhaps?”

“You ever think you might be the problem here?!”

“I’ve barely spoken to you in the last week!” Krang snarled. “Or I’ve tried not to, at least – you’re the one that keeps instigating arguments—!”

“Look, some people deal with things by holing up and sulking about it, some people deal by being hilarious. Should’ve shopped around for hosts a little more if you wanted something different.”

Krang puffed up like he wanted to fire back another retort, but to Leo’s slight surprise he instead took a breath and let it out slowly.

“At any rate,” he growled, apparently choosing not to chase Leo’s proffered point any further, “you’ve felt like this since before you even knew I was attached to you, so I find it highly unlikely that I’m a source for it. Or at least, I know I’m not the source.” A shrewd, challenging look. “Your ‘family,’ on the other hand, frequently causes spikes of— whatever this is, whenever you talk with them for too long. At least, that’s the pattern I’ve noticed— oh, what is it now?!”

Leo glared, his stomach spinning itself into knots. “What’s what?”

“You’re doing it again!” Krang barked. “For no reason! Everything feels worse all of a sudden for no reason!” He gave Leo a blistering, questioning scowl. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle the truth that the brothers you claim are so important to you are actively making you feel horrid?”

Leo could feel his own scowl heating up on his face. “My brothers don’t make me feel ‘actively horrid,’ they’re doing their best to help—”

“They’re a bunch of clingy idiots disguising their fears as concern,” Krang dismissed, scoffing. “The red one in particular needs to learn to mind his own—”

“Don’t,” Leo cut in coldly. “Don’t call him that.”

Krang looked at him like he’d just told him he wasn’t allowed to sneeze for the rest of his life: Slightly offended (because where did he get off demanding that?) and overwhelmingly confused. “Why not?”

Because our dad calls us by our colors. He has bad eyes and it’s basically an in-joke by now and only he calls us by our colors. You’re not allowed to call us what our dad calls us.

“Because that’s not his name,” Leo said, and Krang groaned.

“From what I’ve been able to surmise, you earthlings insist on giving everything a ‘name.’ You cannot reasonably expect me to learn all of them—”

“You’ve got a grand total of five people who you even might interact with, eight if you count April, Casey, and Draxum. I think you can manage.”

“And yet I won’t,” the Krang insisted, giving him an icy look, “because none of you are worth the space your ‘names’ would take up in my memory.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “…gimme a name.”

“…what?”

“Gimme a name to call you by.”

Krang made a frustrated gesture with his tentacles. “I am Krang. You already know this, you imbecile—”

“That’s the name of your species, give me an actual name. I’ll prove this isn’t as big of a thing as you’re making it out to be.”

“I will not—”

“Afraid I’ll have a point?”

“No, it’s just stupid—”

“Humor me, then—”

“I don’t care!” Krang snapped, fed up. “Call me whatever you want, I don’t care!”

Leo, equally fed up, snapped back, “You got it, Cuddlelumps.”

Notes:

You guys wanna know how many drafts that fight scene went through? Six. Is it obvious I got frustrated and gave up? Abundantly. Writing action is HELL.

Chapter 8: Smallest Steps

“Hey, Cuddlelumps! You gonna spend the rest of our time together sulking in my shell? Because I mean that’s a little rude. I’m doing my best to be a fun, engaging host out here and you’re just stonewalling me. Meet me halfway at least!”

Krang slouched further down into his host’s shell, resolutely refusing to dignify his comments with a response. His regret for giving him clearance to call him “whatever” the evening prior was nothing short of immense. It would have been insulting enough if the names had stopped at… eugh, “Cuddlelumps,” but no. His host had an entire arsenal just waiting to be deployed. Including (but not limited to):

• Dubble-Bubble (?)
• Tentacruel (??)
• Meatwad
• Snufflemuffin
• Horchata (???)

And he seemingly delighted in concocting still more! Already annoying, and feeling his constant spikes of amusement which each use of a “nickname” wasn’t helping Krang’s overall disposition one whit, either.

Krang grit his teeth at the persistent noise playing in the background of his host’s jibes. He was making “pop-korn,” apparently, with malicious emphasis on pop. Krang’s audial-sensitivities had reduced greatly over the last few weeks, which was a relief, but sudden, loud sounds still agitated him in a way he couldn’t properly articulate.

He tried to sink still lower, then scowled when he found he couldn’t. He supposed he ought to be pleased he’d formed somewhere that he even could tuck into to ignore things (or try to), but frankly it was becoming increasingly difficult to feel pleased about much lately.

When he had first woken up in his host’s shell, he’d been… surprised. But he hadn’t initially been displeased, at least not at first.

He’d been able to surmise two things right away: One, his body formed within a heavily protected area of his host’s body. And he could personally speak to how well it was protected, he himself had earnestly tried to crush this part of his host. He had once crushed a creature’s skull within the coils of a tentacle with the same ease a lesser being might’ve crushed a ball of wet sand, and his exosuit enhanced his existing strength tenfold. He still hadn’t managed to break this thing. Truly, he couldn’t have asked for a better place to have been so deplorably vulnerable.

Two, he’d realized, as he gathered his bearings and listened to his host chat and joke and laugh with his brothers (they were having a meal, or something), his host had no idea Krang was even there.

His body was seemingly fully formed and ready to leave whenever (it would be a good long while before he reached anything even close to his former size again, if he ever did – presently irrelevant). His enemies were all nearby, and they were none the wiser to his presence; the only things they were missing were bows on their heads and targets on their backs. By all accounts, it had seemed to be an immensely fortuitous turn of events.

And then he’d tried to actually leave, and it became abruptly apparent that whatever his situation classified as, “fortuitous” was perhaps not the word for it.

(He perhaps should have guessed this sooner than he had, considering even upon first waking he’d had a sick, heavy sensation sitting in his core. But at the time, he hadn’t taken it as feedback from his host – because why would he? – he’d just assumed it was… a leftover.)

He’d meant to slip out that night, while his host was in REM. He’d then somehow find a way to ensure his (former, by that point) host stayed silent, then kill him slowly for what he’d put him through. Let him spend his last moments agonizingly aware that help was well within his reach, if only he could call out for it. Let his last thoughts be how this was it. There was no escape this time. No one was coming for him.

Tragically, his assessment of the situation had been very off. Not only was he still very much attached to his host (for reasons he still couldn’t fathom), but said host had taken the opportunity to foreshadow what an infernal annoyance he would be during this entire process, and had jolted awake. And then refused to go back to sleep afterwards, robbing him of the opportunity to make a second attempt.

Not that it had come to matter, really. Krang had allowed himself to become shamefully impatient, and had accidentally alerted his host to his presence by peeking out at an inopportune time. The resulting sequence of events had proven there was no point in making attempts to leave. Getting violently (and painfully) yanked at, yet not moving an inch, had left little question of that.

He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. Being impatient, that was. He’d leave that sort of behavior to his sister, once they were reunited. He wouldn’t let his enemies gain any more ground over him beyond what his initial lapse of judgment had already had allotted them. (At least, not anymore. He was regrettably forced to admit that his behavior shortly after his predicament had been outed to the group was perhaps not the most composed.) He’d only just barely reclaimed his advantage with his “flaking” lie. From this point on, he would endure whatever inanities and annoyances and emotions his situation threw at him, and he would bide his time and wait.

Besides, he’d thought, once again trying to be pragmatic, it wasn’t as though things could somehow get any worse!

…a lesson in not tempting the fates, he supposed.

As if to further emphasize the message, his host took that precise moment to softly call out “Cuuuddleluuumps?” as he retrieved his pop-korn from the heating device, his voice steeped in false, mocking affection. “You still with me in there? Trying to have a conversation with you, don’t leave me hanging!”

Krang still made no move to leave the shell, and instead scowled even harder and called back, “The act of purposely ignoring you unfortunately necessitates I ‘leave you hanging.’ Address me properly and see where that takes you, perhaps!”

Nowhere. It would take him nowhere, if Krang could help it. The last two weeks and ought-many days had served to prove that his host was incapable of speaking to him without putting some derivative twist on things. He’d long since grown weary of trying to force even an ounce of respect into the dullard’s skull, and so was instead opting to engage as little as possible.

His host had moved to sit at the island across from the heating device, and Krang heard him tearing open his pop-korn bag. “Psh, ‘address you properly’? What, is there a title for ‘got whatever counts as a Krang-butt kicked and sent to zero-gravity prison, twice’ in Kranguage that I don’t know about?”

…scratch that last.

Crawling upwards and out, Krang spat, “I was referring to you simply calling me Krang, but since you’ve brought up titles – I am the leader of all Krang, you insolent little blockhead!”

“M’kay, so— one, real funny insult coming from the literal meat cube, and two, woo, good for you! Mr. Numero Uno over here, leader of three…”

As Krang fumed, his host pulled out a handful of pale yellow lumps from his bag. Popping them into his mouth, he went on, “One more time for the folks in the cheap seats, I really don’t get why you let yourself get so twisted over this kind of stuff, anyway. So I call you a few goofy names. It’s not hurting you, it’s not hurting me—”

“Yet,” Krang interjected, glaring out of the corner of his eye. “Give me time.”

“—besides,” his host insisted, and Krang took cold comfort in both the flash of annoyance that wasn’t his and the glare he got back, “it’s not like I’m the only one giving dumb nicknames here, you hypocrite.”

“When have I ever—?”

“Does ‘wretched little pest’ ring any bells?”

“…no, honestly, it doesn’t.”

His host huffed. “How about you trying to turn me into paste, hm? That dinging anything, or do you only get mad about what’s directly in front of you and forget everything else?”

Oh. That. Krang supposed it sounded like something he’d say, particularly within that context, but he still had no memory of ever actually saying it. The memories of everything immediately following the Technodrome’s destruction were lost beneath the haze of his subsequent wrath. He could pick out vague shapes of the events that had transpired, but that was more or less it.

Just as well.

“That wasn’t a ‘nickname,’ that’s what you are.”

“Aw, so you’re not gonna keep up with that?” his host asked, his faux-disappointed tone massively conflicting with the cold expression he wore. “And here I thought we could get something cute going…”

Krang matched his host’s hostility, sneering, “Well if you insist, pest,” as he slid back into his shell.

“Yeah, don’t feel like you have to hold back from the fun, Numero-Uno,” muttered his host, watching him go.

(Ooh, a NEW nickname to add to the roster. Joy.)

From within the shell, Krang continued to seethe. He supposed he ought to be happy his host was amusing himself, even if it was offensively at Krang’s expense. The jolts of amusement he felt at his own “wit” cut through the sludge of the rest of his feelings well enough, at least. 

But that was the crux of the issue. The amusement could momentarily cut through the darker, weightier emotions, but it was like treading water. Pushing it aside to move through it didn’t change the fact that they were up to their necks in it, surrounded on all sides, with no shoreline in sight. His host’s mirth never lasted long enough to make a difference, and in the meantime Krang was left surrounded by the same malignant, murky waters trying to swallow up said host.

The heaviness of it was suffocating. Maddening. It made him want to scream and rage and bite – his host, himself, anything that got too close – it made him want to sink and sink and sink into his host’s shell until he finally hit oblivion at the bottom. He wanted to tear open his own torso and dig the sensation of it out from the gore with his own tentacles. He wanted quiet and a nap.

How could something so empty feel like so much?

Krang heard noise suddenly, decidedly not from his host. One of his brothers— two of his brothers, all three, then. Something about another alarm going off somewhere, his host was getting up to join them—

Not this again…

---

Splinter watched his boys go from his chair, calling out their goodbyes. Red, Orange, and Purple rushing out the door, Blue hurrying behind to catch up.

They were little boys all over again, rushing off to start their next game. One of them had fallen behind, “wait for me!” and soon the other three would stop, turn, tell the straggler to hurry up, and then all four would head out together once they’d reunited.

Except they weren’t little boys anymore. They weren’t going out to play a game where the worst that might happen would be someone skinning their knee. And the three in front didn’t stop to wait.

Splinter turned his head to look up at the ceiling, feeling gutted.

He didn’t blame his sons for wanting their brother to stay at home. He wanted their brother to stay home. He still didn’t trust the Krang not to do something that could hurt Blue – intentionally or not – whatever it claimed. He wasn’t sure he trusted Blue not to run his mouth and agitate it enough to want to. This was nerve-wracking enough when he was safe at home, with no criminals attacking him. Adding potential criminals to the mix made Splinter feel like he was going to have an embolism.

On top of all that, he was also worried about his other three sons. What if they were so preoccupied with keeping an eye out for Blue, they forgot to keep an eye out for themselves? Then on top of that there was the fact that Blue’s focus would probably be thrown off, considering everything that was assuredly weighing on his mind, which wouldn’t mesh well with all the aforementioned criminals.

At the same time, he didn’t blame Blue, either. He and his brothers had done everything together their entire lives. Now because of things he couldn’t control and weren’t his fault, he was the odd-man out. Again, on top of everything else probably weighing on his mind. He could hardly be faulted for wanting a half-second of normalcy, or for wanting to stay close to the people who made him feel safest.

It… hurt a little that Blue’s “safest people” were his brothers rather than his own father. Not that he wanted (or even expected it possible) to ever eclipse the boys’ relationship with each other, he just wished it was more equal. It scared him a little that it wasn’t – it made him think of Grandpa Sho.

Had he loved his grandpa? Absolutely. Had he known his grandpa had loved him? Unquestionably. Had he felt like he could’ve gone to his grandpa with any problem and get help with it, no judgement, no questions? Or… or for him to hug him when he was scared?

No. Never. Grandpa Sho was not a man who’d been fond of sentiment. He’d been a “well, why were you so stupid as to get yourself into this situation in the first place??” –kind of man. A “if you’re feeling sad or angry or scared, go train for a few hours until it works out of your system” –kind.

Splinter had never wanted to be that kind of man to his sons, but he worried that had been what had happened anyway. Not exactly like how his grandpa had been, but close enough.

Splinter knew he was a coward. He’d sort of always known it, or he’d at least had an inkling ever since he first left Japan to become an actor. It’d been easier to hide from it when he was young. He would point at his fighting prowess, his willingness to do all his own stunts no matter how dangerous, how he’d face down the worst monsters the Battle Nexus could throw at him and still come out on top, and go “see? Look how brave I am! I can’t be a coward!”

Something he’d learned as he’d grown older, unfortunately: Not worrying about getting hurt wasn’t bravery, it was reckless at best, downright dumb at worst. Physical peril had never phased him, but emotional peril?

His mom had left him to fulfill her “destiny.” He didn’t resent her for it, he couldn’t, especially now that he’d learned the extent of what she’d been on guard for. But… speaking as someone with kids of his own now? He couldn’t have done it. He’d refused to do it, even – when it came between his boys and the Shredder returning, the choice had been simple, if terrifying. His sons would win out, every time.

His mom’s choice, whether it had been simple for her or not, said a lot. To him, at least. But rather than unpack all of that, he’d shoved the whole proverbial suitcase to the back of his mind’s closet. Called it all stupid and imaginary, and he “wouldn’t waste his life like his mom and grandpa had,” and ran away to America.

He’d thought Big Mama was the love of his life. And maybe she was – he’d never loved anyone else like he’d loved her, before or since – but it hadn’t been enough to save things. Or maybe there’d never really been anything there to save. She may have been the love of his life, but maybe he’d only been an easy mark to her. Either way: Down to the Battle Nexus he went.

He’d decided to be fine with it. Fought the battles she told him to fight, like a good little champion, and pretended nothing had changed. He was still madly in love with the woman of his dreams, even if she was a giant spider. When things still fell apart, rather than do something about it, he resolved to sit in his cell and never do anything again.

He hadn’t known how to handle becoming a rat, so he’d ignored as much of his situation as he could. Raphael had needed to step up to act as the other three’s parent most of the time in his stead. When his boys were hurting, really hurting, he never knew what to say to make things better. A good father would know what to say, wouldn’t he? But he didn’t. So he didn’t say anything. Pretended he didn’t notice anything, because maybe if he didn’t comment it would go away on its own.

The slightest whiff of emotional peril, and he’d run off with his tail between his legs, sometimes literally. No amount of kicks or punches or spandex onesies could hide that – it’d been a slow, creeping sort of terror to realize it. Worst of all, his fear of confronting his emotions meant he’d never taught his sons how to do it, either.

So now Blue would point at his grin, at all his jokes and one-liners, and go “see? Look at how funny I am! I’m not sad!”

Splinter pressed his hand across his stinging eyes, a lump in his throat. Moments like this, and he wondered if the boys would have actually been better off being raised by Draxum—

Draxum.

Splinter sat as he was for a second, willing the lump to shrink to something he could talk around, then rubbed at his eyes with the back of his forearm. He pushed himself out of his chair, heading to his room, where his phone was charging on his nightstand. He tapped the little FaceTime icon.

(The boys were always like “dad just send texts, you don’t need to call for everything.” Well maybe just maybe he didn’t want to sit around typing for years and years. Maybe he wanted to say what he needed to and get a response immediately, and not get left on “read.” Kids…)

Draxum picked up on the fifth ring, which was pretty good considering it had been like pulling teeth to make him use the “pathetic human communication device” in the first place.

“What,” he grunted. All Splinter could see were his eyes, forehead, and ceiling. Idiot could make a machine to cause life-altering mutations, yet properly angling his camera for video calls was seemingly beyond him.

Splinter didn’t comment. “Any updates?”

“If there were, do you really think I wouldn’t have called immediately?” Draxum asked testily.

Splinter frowned. “I mean if you’d made a breakthrough, yeah, but… what about general progress? Anything to report?”

Even from the angle Draxum was holding his phone at, Splinter could see him rub his face tiredly. And now that Splinter really looked, he could see dark circles under his eyes, too. “No, nothing yet. Believe me, Rat, if I find absolutely anything that involves mystically removing flesh-parasites from people, you’ll be the first I call. Stop hounding me in the meantime.”

Before Splinter had time to get offended by the “hounding” comment, Draxum asked, “Have you heard back from the Foot at all?”

Splinter felt his ears flatten against his scalp. “No. But I hadn’t really expected to. I appreciate what Casey was trying to do by involving them, but…”

“Bit hard to trust the people who started the whole problem to do much to fix it,” Draxum finished. He sounded almost as bitter as Splinter felt, and in that moment he was probably Splinter’s favorite person in the world.

Draxum glanced back at the screen (he’d looked away broodingly for a moment), and after a short pause muttered, “You look terrible.”

Splinter realized too late his eyes were probably still a little puffy. “Haven’t been sleeping well,” he explained. Which was true, and he knew it showed (he’d looked in mirrors within the last fortnight), but he was aware that probably wasn’t what Draxum had been commenting on.

Still, he maintained, “Hard to get much rest when one of your sons has a monster stuck to him.”

“…yeah,” Draxum finally agreed, voice quiet. “Yeah.”

---

Of all the places Leo was expecting they’d pull up to, a – what had Donnie called it, there was a word for it… eh, whatever – a bug lab hadn’t been it. What was even getting taken here, ultra-rare collectors’ edition grasshoppers?

Whatever. It got him out of the Lair. (Even if no one else seemed to actually want him along for the ride…)

The crime scene seemed pretty similar to the bank, initially, at least in regards to doors that probably should’ve been locked being not. Sort of. Replace “doors” with “skylight” and it was dead on. They didn’t find a mutant hippo at the end of the trail, though.

They found a mutant chameleon.

In front of a biiig ol’ tank of oozesquitos.

Either they’d missed a lot during their first sweep to get rid of those things, or Donnie’d been right and the one or two they’d missed had gotten to multiplying real quick.

“Mina!” Raph groaned, lowering his sais. “What are you doing here?”

Mina, who’d gone rigid and stock-still the second they’d entered the room (and oscillating between bright green, pink, and yellow as she did), let go of the tank’s lid that she’d clearly been just about to open, putting both hands on her hips.

“Oh. My God. Why did you guys turn up, AGAIN?”

Leo wasn’t sure if Raph meant to slip into the heroic pose he was striking, or if a childhood spent practicing his “halt evildoer!” and “power of friendship” speeches had made it second-nature. Leo didn’t see why it would, considering he’d been right there practicing with him, and as far as he’d been able to tell he didn’t strike poses like that at random. Granted, Leo had just been doing it to feel like Jupiter Jim, whereas Raph seemed to really be trying, so maybe that had something to do with it…

Anyway. The point: Raph had struck a pose.

“We go where crime is, and we put a stop to it!” he declared.

Mina rolled one of her eyes (the other realized it had missed its cue and rolled like the first half a second later). “You’re really leaning into this whole ‘anti-crime’ bit for a bunch of guys who aren’t even with the cops.”

Raph sagged, the wind knocked out of his sails, and gave her a grumpy look.

“What’re you doing here, Mina?” he asked again. “Don’t tell me you’re still on that whole ‘super thief’ thing…”

Mina hmph’ed, tossing her head in in a way that – if she’d still had hair – would’ve thrown it out of her face dramatically. “No, actually, I’m not. I only wanted to be a super thief so I could pursue my true passion of art without having to worry about finances. …or snobs who like to nitpick everyone else’s ‘technique.’” Pausing a second, she hit Raph with a paint-peeling glare. “Anyway, my parents threatened to cut me off if I did anything to ‘embarrass’ them, so that whole plan went right in the trash. Thanks a bunch.”

She straightened suddenly, standing prouder, and finished, “It doesn’t matter, though! Thanks to my amazing new abilities, I don’t have to worry about that anymore!”

Everyone had already stowed their weapons by now. Even if she freaked out again, she didn’t pose a physical threat, at least not one that would require katanas and tech-bōs and things. Anyway, they were blocking the only door, so it wasn’t like she’d be able to make a run for it. All they’d have to do was close their eyes, press into each other to form a barricade, and have Raph flip his eyepatch to the other eye.

“How do your mutant powers help you be a better artist?” asked Mikey, and bless his heart, he sounded genuinely interested.

Mina puffed out her chest. “I turn myself into my art! Watch this!”

Without warning, she did a side-flip onto a nearby table. Everyone flinched, expecting colors to suddenly start exploding all over the place, but she only shifted from a deep plum to a vibrant blue as she went. She left behind a trail of color in her wake, not unlike a sparkler in a dark room, and struck a wistful sort of pose as she landed, colors flaring and shifting where she stood.

…alright, yeah. Quite the stunning display. Color Leo impressed (pun intended).

As Mikey oooh’ed and clapped, Mina dropped the pose, letting her colors settle to pale green and grinning broadly.

“My professors and classmates have been eating this up!” she announced, preening. “And they’re not the only ones – I’ve got people paying to see this stuff! Mix my art with some gymnastics and the public goes wild!”

Mikey offered her his earnest congratulations; Leo, meanwhile, threw Raph a look, which he returned in full. Because something wasn’t adding up.

“That sounds like a super sweet setup,” Raph agreed slowly, “but why are you… y’know… here right now?” He gestured at the tank of oozesquitos. “Messing with those?”

“I heard through the grapevine that the scientists in this lab found a slew of these bug-things,” Mina said, crossing her arms triumphantly. “If turning into a chameleon was able to make my life this much better, it ought to work for other people, right? There’s a market here, and I fully plan to tap into it!”

She made a grand gesture with her hands, as though blocking out invisible words: “‘Free your inner self!’ Or… or maybe ‘free your best self!’ Something like that, I’m still workshopping it. Point is, with the right marketing I’m gonna make bank on this.” She laughed, crossing her arms again. “And Dad said I couldn’t be an artist and have a lucrative career!”

Everyone was glancing at each other at that. It was Draxum all over again, but with extra capitalism. Which honestly only made it more evil.

“Mina, that is a really, really bad idea—” Raph started, but he was cut off by Mina groaning loudly.

“How,” she griped, “how is it a bad idea? People get to achieve their dreams, I get a little extra cash, and get to rub my success in my dad’s face. Show me the bad in this scenario, because all I’m seeing is great.”

They all looked at each other again, all scrambling to mentally translate real-life consequences into Rich-New-Yorker-ese.

“Your parents!” Mikey tried. “You said they’d cut you off if you kept trying to steal things—”

“Uh, I said they’d cut me off if I ‘embarrassed’ them,” Mina corrected, inspecting her little chameleon claws boredly. “Starting a profitable business would not ‘embarrass’ them.”

“You have no idea how the mutations will affect people!” Raph insisted. “I mean, look at what your mutation did to you, this isn’t what you thought would happen—”

“Yeah, I know, it’s better!”

“On the note of your mutation, though!” Donnie suddenly interjected, stepping in between Raph and Mina. “By any chance, will you be using your ‘Rainbow of Doom’ power at all during this confrontation? I need to see it again to collect some data.”

Mina’s rising indignation fizzled instantly. “Wha…?”

Donnie gestured at Raph. “Our brother suffers from an affliction where one of his eyes sees an above average amount of colors. I’m sure you noticed during our last encounter that he was able to see through your power, even when the rest of New York apparently couldn’t? That’s why. On its own, his condition can cause severe migraines – a result of the discrepancy between how each of his eyes perceive color, hence the eyepatch. I endeavor to fix this.”

Raph’s Chasm was brought out by what seemed to be a combination of exasperation and a dollop of embarrassment. “Really Donnie? Now?”

Donnie ignored him. “The plan is, as you may have guessed, to create something that might reduce this effect. Something like the glasses people use for colorblindness, but… in reverse. And also dealing with colors essentially no one else is capable of seeing. I’ve since amassed the necessary materials and, like I said before, just need to collect a little extra data to bring it all together. So,” He flipped his goggles down to stare at Mina intently. To her credit, she only seemed nonplussed rather than unsettled. “Rainbow of Doom?”

Mina stared, apparently trying to wrap her head around the information she’d just had thrown at her, but then her expression changed imperceptively. “You ‘compiled the materials’? This whole thing sounds really complicated… are the materials, like… rare?”

Donnie nodded, puffing up a bit. “This venture is extremely complicated, both in terms of intricateness and rarity of the components involved, correct.”

Mina tilted her head to the side. “So how’d you even get the stuff for it? Like, what, do they sell what you needed on Amazon or something?”

“Uh, scoff. The compound required for this project is, as stated, very rare, and not something that would be sold by mainstream suppliers. We picked it up at the lab down on—”

“‘Picked it up’? Like… you bought it?”

Leo suddenly realized what Mina’s original expression had changed to: Suspicion. And now it had shifted again, a bit more obviously this time: Glaring.

Donnie, realizing he’d just fully fallen into a trap, didn’t answer. Instead, he deflated, and his expression took on a very deer-in-headlights quality.

“Well?” Mina demanded. “Did you buy your stuff? Or did you, oh, I don’t know… steal it??”

An uncomfortable beat.

“They wouldn’t have sold us any if we’d asked,” Donnie finally tried weakly, valiantly trying to ignore the looks of “nice going, doofus” that they were all throwing at him. “And anyway we didn’t take all of their samples of the compound, we just took enough to–” 

“Oh my GOD you are all the biggest fucking hypocrites—!”

“Okay yes,” Raph agreed, “that was wrong, and we shouldn’t have done it like we did. But look we don’t make a habit of stealing things from people, and anyway that was a completely different situation—”

“How was it a ‘different situation’?” Mina demanded. “What, just because you didn’t take all of the stuff?” She gestured at the tank of oozesquitos. “If I leave one or two will you get off my back and out of my ass?!”

“Mina you have no idea how getting mutated might affect people!” Raph insisted. “It worked out good for you in the end, but what if you mutate someone who – just like you – wants a mutation for one thing, but because they don’t do their research they end up with something else?”

“Their problem, not mine!” Mina said, shrugging irritably. “I’ll just be selling the bugs, what people do with them after has nothing to do with me. I’ll just slap on a disclaimer that I’m not responsible for how things shake down after the purchase is complete. Or I’ll just make them sign something saying they can’t sue me if they’re dissatisfied. Simple.”

“What if they can’t control themselves after they mutate?” Raph demanded. “What if they hurt someone? What if that was their plan from the beginning, and that’s why they want to mutate themselves in the first place? Like… revenge or something?”

Mina scoffed. “Uh, you could ‘hurt someone’ with a butter knife if you tried hard enough? I don’t see you going up to stores saying they can’t sell silverware. Again: Their problem, not mine!”

Raph growled, clearly getting frustrated. “Mina, you can’t do this, there’s all sorts of consequences that could happen if you—!”

“Okay Dad I’ll keep that in mind—!”

Ugh, this wasn’t working! Nothing Raph said was connecting because he wasn’t saying the right things, how could he not see that? Mina clearly wasn’t a “for the people!” –person, so coming at her from any kind of Golden Rule-esque angle wasn’t going to work. She was looking out for Number One first and foremost, and the only thing that was going to make her alter her plans was to give her a way those plans could negatively affect her—

Hold on— Number One—!

“Uno,” Leo muttered heatedly under his breath, now insistently knocking on the back of his shell. “Hey, Uno, come out here for a second—”

“What do you want?” Krang hissed back. “Stop making that racket!”

“Come out for a second,” Leo repeated. “Just real quick, you can get back to being a blob right after, I swear.”

“Why should I?”

(Oh this absolute asshole—) “Call it ‘thanks’ for not charging you rent, now get out here!”

Krang grumbled something indistinct. Leo knocked still more rapidly.

“Oh, alright, alright, alright,” Krang groused, finally dragging his sorry tentacles up out of Leo’s shell, “I’m out, what do you want?”

Leo adjusted his stance so Krang was in clearer view of the group. A beat.

Mina screamed.

“What the fuck is that??!” she demanded, and looking over Leo saw she’d basically flattened herself against the wall farthest from him. She’d gone snow-white. “No, seriously, what the fuck is that?!”

He gave her a politely surprised look. “Hm? You mean this guy?” He gestured at Krang.

“What else would I be talking about?!”

He tilted his head as if confused, before letting it snap into something that suggested clarity. “Ohhh, that’s right, you only just mutated like… two weeks ago, has it been? Time sure flies! But yeah, it makes sense you wouldn’t know yet if no one’s warned you directly…”

One of Mina’s eyes was flicking frantically from his face to Krang and back. “‘Warned me’? Warned me about what?!”

Leo gestured at Krang again (who he could see glaring at him suspiciously in his peripheral). “Mutants get these things sometimes. They’re parasites. They grow on our bodies and insult our life choices. Think tapeworms, but louder.”

(“I sincerely wish you the slowest of deaths,” Krang growled in an undertone next to his ear, his tentacles squeezing his shoulder.

“Do you wanna be here another hour listening to her and Raph argue?” Leo breathed back, equally annoyed.)

Both of Mina’s eyes had snapped to Leo’s face, and she looked horrified.

“What the FUCK?!” she demanded, ‘fuck’ raising in pitch until it capped off just short of a shriek. “I’m going to grow one of those?!”

“I mean… probably not,” Leo said, shooting for a look that suggested he was trying to be comforting, but was still a little hesitant. “It’s not all mutants that get them – it’s more of a luck of draw kind of situation, y’know? If you haven’t noticed any pink gumminess growing on you yet, you oughta be safe. It’s just…” he trailed off.

Mina, who’d gotten the barest hint of color back at “not all mutants get them,” tensed up again. “It’s just what?”

“I mean… just because it hasn’t happened to you doesn’t mean it can’t happen to your customers, right? There’s no way you can promise it won’t, anyway.” Leo rearranged his expression into something apologetic yet serious. “Listen – we didn’t come out and say ‘hey, you might give people the gumbies’ because we didn’t wanna scare you. You’re a new mutant and all, and we didn’t think you needed that possibility hanging over your head. Call us overprotective, we can’t help it, comes natural to us!

“But I’m gonna give it to you straight now: If you charge people to turn them into mutants, and then one of them does get a little guy like this out of nowhere—” again, he gestured at Krang, “—you’re the one they’re gonna blame for it. And I mean… woof. You really wanna take the heat for that? Even if they can’t sock it to ya legally, word of mouth travels fast in this town. Not only will people probably stop coming to you for mutation bugs, but they might decide ‘hey, we don’t wanna support that crook at all!’ and stop coming to your color shows.” He shrugged again, helplessly this time. “There goes supporting yourself with your art…”

Mina stared at him another second, glanced back at Krang, then around at his brothers. Who, glancing at them himself, were obtrusively trying to look like nothing he’d said was news to them. Yeesh, they really needed to get back into the habit of having fake-out rehearsals…

Finally, Mina sagged. “Fine. Point taken. I’ll leave the stupid bugs alone.”

“Atta girl,” Leo said bracingly, placing a hand on Krang’s head and shoving him back into his shell now that he wasn’t needed anymore (he suspected he was getting sworn at, based on Krang’s tone, but by that point what he was saying was too muffled/no longer in English, so he couldn’t be sure). “Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is cut your losses before anything actually gets lost. Besides, you not having to worry about running a business-business means you’ll have more time to focus on your art, right? It’s for the best.”

Mina huffed, disappointed, but after a moment’s thought nodded. “Yeah… guess that’s true… UGH what a waste of a night, though…”

She glanced around at them all again. “So like… are you guys gonna be all…” she made a few random gestures, though Leo couldn’t have guessed what they were supposed to mean specifically, “—or can I just, like… leave?”

In unison, they all stepped out of the way of the door, clearing a path for her.

“After you,” Leo said, politely bowing her out.

Mina paused only briefly to look at Raph for a second or two (which… m’kay, why?), then gave them all an uncaring wave goodbye before sulking off, presumably to exit out the same skylight she’d come in through.

Leo glanced around at his brothers, not able to keep the smile off his face. That had gone well! No huge blowouts, fights, or mass property damage! They’d managed to talk her down! He’d managed to talk her down! And this from the guy they hadn’t wanted to bring with— He’d done good!

Raph sighed. “Soo… it’s probably not a good idea to leave these things here, huh?” he asked, gesturing at the oozesquito tank. “For like… safety reasons?”

“Considering none of the entomologists will have any idea what they’re actually dealing with, and therefore won’t take any of the necessary precautions to avoid being mutated?” Donnie clarified. “Yeah, I’d say safety-wise, they should be disposed of as quickly as possible.”

“How’re we gonna do that?” Mikey asked, looking at the tank doubtfully. “It’s too big to carry…”

“I’ll swing back to the lab and grab the necessary equipment,” Donnie said, “then come back here and take care of it.”

Raph rested a hand on his hip. “You gonna want help with any of that?”

“I mean I wouldn’t say no.”

“I’ll do it,” Mikey volunteered.

Donnie nodded appreciatively. “Many thanks, Miguel.”

They all seemed to be very purposefully not looking in Leo’s direction.

He… he had done good, right? Like, there was no reason for anyone to be upset with him, right? Apart from the fact that he’d come when they hadn’t wanted him to, granted, but the fact that he’d literally solved the problem made up for it, didn’t it?

…was it because he’d brought out Krang? Were they upset because he’d reminded them he was still there? It’d worked through! They’d still probably be arguing with Mina if he hadn’t!

“Leo,” Raph called, gesturing at him. Everyone was moving towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s get back home.”

Leo’s smile wobbled. He felt monstrously stupid all of a sudden. “Yep. Right behind you.”

---

Leo’s room was quiet. He felt like he spent all his time in here, nowadays. Which was probably all just in his head – he’d gone out two nights in a row now. And earlier yesterday he’d been out watching TV with Dad and Mikey.

Even if he had spent all his time in his room, it wasn’t like he could ever really be lonely, right?

“Pest?”

Oh, neat. He was picking up that nickname. Nice to know Leo’s words had an impact.

Leo was strewn out across his bed, laying on his plastron, clutching a pillow. Krang had crawled out, and was more or less leaning against the back of his head, trying to get his attention.

“Pest!”

Leo’s eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the far wall, and he didn’t look up. “Not now, Dubble-Bubble,” he muttered. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Yes, I can feel that,” Krang snapped. “That’s the point. You need to do something about your ‘mood,’ or I’m going to lose my mind and take you down with me!”

“Well, that sucks for both of us,” Leo shot back, “because there’s nothing I can do. Either learn to live with it or move out.”

“There’s nothing?” Krang repeated, furiously disbelieving, his tentacles tensing where they were draped across Leo’s shoulders and over the top of his skull. If Leo hadn’t felt so… if he hadn’t felt so, he might’ve taken more interest in the very clear note of desperation in his voice. As he was, he just felt a dull, fleeting sense of satisfaction that came and went too quickly.

“Nope,” Leo confirmed flatly. “What can I say, misery loves company. There’s two of us, so that’s twice the misery.”

“Why are you miserable in the first place?!” Krang demanded, only stopping just short of shouting.

“Give you a hint: It starts with K.”

Krang gave a strangled, frustrated growl, and pressed his face into to the back of Leo’s neck to muffle the sound. Leo twitched, wanting to bat him away, but stopped, remembering that he couldn’t actually bat him away.

“Once more: I haven’t done anything to you recently!” Krang insisted hotly, raising his head. “How can I be the source of this?!”

“You’re here,” Leo returned, “that’s enough.”

“Well, I’ll be here for a while yet, so for both our sakes I suggest you get used to it!” Krang bit back. “And anyway we both know you’re not being completely forthright at the moment, so out with it! What’s wrong with you?”

“What makes you think I’m not being forthright?” Leo asked rather than answer directly.

“Because if I were truly the cause of your emotional state, it would be more constant. I am always with you, and you know that, so you would always be thinking about our situation. Instead, you constantly oscillate. You feel terrible, you’re numb, you manage to distract yourself for thirty seconds, you feel worse, you’re numb again—”

“That’s how earthling emotions work sometimes, my guy,” Leo said dully. “They can be all over the place. Nothing you can do about it.”

Leo felt the glare rather than saw it. “I’d be much more inclined to believe that if your mood didn’t have a pattern of dipping whenever you spend extended periods of time with your family.”

The last word was spat like a curse.

Leo’s stomach churned. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“I do though, even moreso than you if you truly think your family doesn’t have a negative effect on you.”

“Even if you were right, why would I tell you anything?” Leo asked finally, definitely not deflecting.

“Because you’ve clearly done an appalling job of handling the situation on your own, so fine. Explain it to me and I’ll handle it. I’ll walk you through it step-by-step if I have to, just talk to me.”

There was a tense pause.

…y’know what? Sure. There were some things Leo could stand to get off his chest, things that he couldn’t say to his family because it wasn’t about him he didn’t want to waste their time, or make them think less of him because he was whining about nothing. Or make them worry, or else just ruin their day for no reason.

But this guy? This guy couldn’t have his time wasted, because he wasn’t using his time for anything at the moment. And Leo was pretty sure Krang couldn’t think less of him, and that anything he said would count as “whining” in his book. He might as well make the most of it and actually whine a little while he had an opening.

And frankly, Leo didn’t care if he ruined Krang's day.

“You wanna know what’s wrong with me?” Leo asked, pushing himself off his plastron and rising to his feet, pacing. “Okay, let’s talk about what’s wrong with me:

“So, you’re here. And yeah yeah, you’re in denial that you being around could possibly NOT be the greatest thing that's ever happened to someone, or maybe you’re just upset that you’ve managed shoot yourself in the tentacle this much just by existing, but here’s the thing: You fucked up everything. The second you showed up again, my whole entire family started acting like I’ve got the plague and now I’m dying. Anytime they’re near me they look sad even when they’re pretending to smile. And I know, I know that me making jokes about the whole thing is making everyone else uncomfortable – I can see it, I know, but I can’t fucking stop. If things are funny then that means they’re okay, or at least they will be eventually, and I need things to be okay. But as long as you’re here, that whole concept’s a big fucking question mark. So I make more jokes, which makes everyone else more uncomfortable, so does that mean I’m being selfish, AGAIN because I don’t stop with the jokes? Just because they make me feel better?

“And y’know what, speaking of the plague, my brothers keep trying to ditch me like that’s what I’ve got! It used to be all of us together, always, and now they can barely stand to be around me. They literally try to run away from me when I try to go with for our usual stuff. My own brothers don’t want me anymore, because of you! I’m alone because of you! And I can’t say anything about it, not up-front anyway, because if I do I’m gonna get the look. Or-or one of the looks – like I’m crazy, like I’m BROKEN, like I’m—I’m—”

“Weak…?” Krang interjected softly. Too softly. It made Leo’s insides boil. Because he wasn’t allowed to do that. He wasn’t allowed to shove his stupid Krang propaganda about strength and weakness into this moment. He wasn’t allowed to say it in a voice that made it sound like he was a real person with actual thoughts or feelings outside of being an evil fucking creep.

He wasn’t allowed to be RIGHT.

Leo came to a stop at his bed again. He sat down heavily on its edge, his chest tight and a lump in his throat.

“So how’s that, Uno?” he asked, sardonicism high. “That enough for now? That a good start to the list? Go ahead, handle it. Walk me through step-by-step on how to fix all of that, I’m waiting!”

Silence. Leo didn’t do anything to fill it. Part of him was quietly triumphant about it. For all his big, condescending talk, Krang was just as clueless on how to fix the issues in Leo’s head as Leo himself was. Maybe this would be enough to finally take him down a peg, or at least shut him up for a while.

(Another part was internally screaming at him to say something. Krang had seemed so sure he’d be able to fix this. Leo knew he couldn’t, but why couldn’t things be easy? Why couldn’t he just fix this?)

The silence stretched, and Leo shifted, falling sideways, his head hitting his pillow. He didn’t say anything, and stared at the shelf situated against the far wall. Box of CDs, lava lamp, some collectibles, Lou Jitsu and Jupiter Jim VHS’s…

The room was quiet. When he was younger, when he was lying in bed trying to fall asleep, he’d listen to how quiet things were and pretend he was sleeping on a spaceship in deep space. A spaceship with all the blinds drawn, so the light of all the stars couldn’t get in. When he was a kid, he’d thought that the stars were as close together as looked to be in the pictures of the space books he’d steal from Donnie. He thought they’d only be a little bigger than him, if that, just hanging in the dark of space, lighting the way for ships. He’d thought they were only in deep space; he hadn’t seen actual stars live and in person until he was about twelve, and just happened to be above ground during a blackout. He’d almost cried, they were so pretty.

He and his brothers had been with April at the time. He’d wanted to play Jupiter Jim right then and there since the atmosphere was perfect for it, and anyway it wasn’t like they had anything better to do. April could pilot with Donnie, because Donnie would probably want to pilot, and even if he didn’t he’d probably be best at it. Raph could be Red Fox, because he was red so it made sense, but also because Leo wanted to be Jupiter Jim. Oh, but Jupiter Jim was already here? That was okay, he could show the rest of them how to drive the ship, so Donnie and April wouldn’t be the only ones who had to! And they could all look out the windows and enjoy the stars!

Jupiter Jim came up behind him and clasped his shoulder.

“You’re not weak,” he said. “You’re stupid and annoying, but you’re not weak.”

That was… huh, that was a weirdly hostile thing for him to say… was he upset because Leo had tricked him into letting all the comic con people go?

Oh well.

It was nice and quiet on the ship, but it was nice and quiet outside the ship too. Very calm. Mikey kept trying to grab the stars, but he kept moving too fast and accidentally blowing them out of his grip. It was like catching dust, or dandelion fluff – you had to be slow to get them. Leo had managed to catch a couple, and was trying to tell the others how to do it. He wondered how the stars would taste…

“Leo?”

Leo blinked, unsure of everything for a moment. He looked around, and so, so slowly, what he was seeing started to make sense to him. He was in his room, staring at the shelf situated against the far wall.

And someone had their hand resting on his shoulder, presumably having just given him a small shake. Looking up, he saw Mikey.

He pushed himself up so he was leaning on his elbow still glancing around, and mumbled, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mikey said back softly, then tilted his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, sitting up a little more and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, I, um. I took a nap.”

“Nice,” Mikey said smiling. “I just came to let you know dinner’s ready.”

“Oh, cool,” Leo said, still feeling reality slowly settle back into place. “What’re we having?”

“New recipe! Wild rice and mushroom soup!” Mikey smiled at him again, and it was really gentle. Something about his little brother’s expression made Leo want to sink back into the soft, muffled feeling of half-sleep he was trying to crawl out of. “Want me to bring you some?”

“…yeah,” Leo said after a moment, smiling back. “That’d be nice. Thanks, Mikey.”

Mikey’s smile slid a little closer towards its usual energetic, enthusiastic vibe, and he gave him a thumbs-up as he went to get him a bowl. Leo watched him go, then gently flopped onto his back, looking up at his ceiling.

He felt lighter.

(He didn’t know what to do with that.)

Notes:

"Uno" actually started as a random meta-nickname me and Wig used for Krang 1 while doing character discussions, but now it's gotten to the point where that's all we refer to him as. So obviously I had to integrate it to the fic. Wig's also the one who came up with the bulk of nicknames Leo'll end up using for his Krang, so shout-out to her for that.

And I don't know if the very final bit of the chapter actually works. I was shooting for the feeling of "just emotionally purged and then konked out from the exhaustion of it; after waking up things feel a little better even if no problems actually got fixed, because at least it's not all sitting on your chest anymore." I don't know if that all came across, or if it just feels like I slammed the brakes on the plot to go "mmm! soup!"

Chapter 9: "SeCuRiTy"

Leo woke up feeling more rested than he had in… literal years, probably.

He’d never felt such a burning sense of mistrust in his life.

There’d been a bit of a lag before it kicked in. A few final seconds just after he woke up where he lay in bed and marveled at how rested he felt, and huh what had he done different last night and could he do it again—?

And then he remembered. And then he was on his feet.

(Or… maybe it’d been more of a lot of a lag. Maybe he should’ve had this reaction sometime last night, before he’d even gone to bed. Maybe he’d been enjoying not feeling so much as to have this reaction that he hadn’t really let himself.)

He’d been doing a lot of pacing recently, he realized. Usually around his room. Eh, pretty much always around his room – if he started pacing anywhere else in the lair, he’d look like a crazy person. And he didn’t need that on top of his whole situation already, thanks.

Leo rubbed at his eyes. They felt a bit crustier than usual this morning. Gross, but not really at the top of his list of things to contemplate.

There was no way that Leo moaning and groaning to Krang for a bit could backfire on him, was there? Like… how could listening to someone complain be used for a sinister plot? The only way Leo could think of was if the one complaining had let sensitive information slip. Which Leo definitely hadn’t done; it’d all been general, personal stuff. So he ought to be safe in that regard, right?

 Besides, even if he was dumb enough to accidentally tell an obvious enemy something important (which he wasn’t – he knew he wasn’t always the brightest bulb in the crayon box, but let’s not get mean here), he didn’t know anything important that he could let slip.

Donnie handled all the lair’s defense system codes and everything (or whatever that whole thing entailed – again, Don-Tron’s thing, not his), and Raph was the guy who made all the decisions/plans with what the group was doing. Almost all of which were shots from the hip, and not things he ran by everyone weeks/days/even hours in advance. Krang had learned where the lair was in relation to the rest of New York long before this whole cluster started, already knew the faces and— kinda names of all their major allies… what more could he hope to learn by just letting Leo talk?

Leo felt a little bit better once that matter was settled. For a second. There was another problem that kept his feet moving so his brain would keep chugging, though:

If it hadn’t been to try to make Leo leak info (which Krang would know by now that he wouldn’t have anyway), then why had he offered in the first place?

It was possible that Krang’s reasons were actually exactly what he’d said they were. It made sense, anyway, considering everything. He hadn’t been doing it to help Leo feel better— well okay, he had, but that was just because if Leo felt better, than so would he. It was totally rooted in selfishness. That tracked.

Since it hadn’t been done specifically to make Leo feel better, the fact that it had was incidental. It didn’t count, and so there was no reason for Leo to feel bad that it had helped. Because it was natural. He’d needed to unload some stuff, he had, now it was off his mind a little. Krang wasn’t the ideal person to have unloaded on, but he had, and it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t a betrayal to all the people he’d hurt for Leo to make him to listen to some of his problems for a little while—

“Do you have some sort of embargo in place against sleep?” grumbled a voice, making Leo stop in his tracks.

The (he hated that it was becoming familiar) sensation of something crawling up the inside of his shell announced that Krang had woken up. He didn’t fully climb out this time, just sort of draped his foremost tentacles over Leo’s shoulder. He had one of them balled up, and was grumpily rubbing at his eyes. It reminded Leo uncomfortably of a little kid who’d been woken up from a nap before they were ready. The discrepancy between the innocent imagery and Krang’s whole… everything made his expression scrunch in distaste.

“I’m a busy guy,” he said carelessly. “Got things to do, no time for sleep.”

“Did you ever consider some of your emotional imbalances might be rooted in exhaustion?” Krang muttered back, dropping the tentacle he’d rubbed his eyes with and crossing it with the other, then resting his head on top of them. “I’d consider penciling some sleep into your ‘busy’ schedule.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll take it under advisement, thanks,” Leo dismissed, heading towards his door. He wasn’t going to be able to think properly anymore, not with this guy interrupting every thought he had. Not that it mattered; he’d come to pretty solid conclusions before dear sweet little Uno had poked his head into it (or, technically, poked his head out). Either way, he was done for now, so he might as well go get some breakfast.

He rubbed his eyes again. Eugh, actually, first he was gonna stop by the bathroom. Sleeping better deeper than usual had left him with a lot of crud, which… ew. He’d wash that out before putting himself near food.

It wasn’t until he was drying his face off (his eyes still felt a little gooby – was he getting sick? great) that he looked in the mirror and noticed he looked different. Not a lot different, it was actually perfectly reasonable he hadn’t realized it immediately. Still—

His eyes were yellow now. A really, really pale yellow, sure, but they definitely hadn’t been that color before. His irises looked different too – more red, more like…

“Is this normal?” Leo asked, tone flat. He wasn’t sure if he was just too quietly horrified to put more inflection into it, or if he was just too done.

Krang, who’d been dozing from where he half-rested on his shoulder, roused just slightly, but didn’t open his eyes. “Is what normal?”

He yelped suddenly as Leo flicked him between the eyes to get him to open them.

“This,” Leo said, indicating his own face when he finally looked at him, outraged. “They weren’t this color yesterday! Is this what usually happens to hosts?”

Krang looked confused (and still, a little pissed) at first, clearly not sure of what he was supposed to be looking at. Then his expression suddenly smoothed out, understanding.

“…it’s not something I find especially alarming,” he finally said neutrally. “Coming into intimate contact with the Krang does have a tendency to superficially alter lesser lifeforms. It’s not guaranteed it’ll happen to a Krang’s host, but it’s also not…” He trailed off, considering, then finished, “It isn’t as atypical as the emotional connection we share, put it that way.”

The fact that he threw Leo a dirty look at “emotional connection” was not lost on him. Leo couldn’t have cared less, to be honest. Suffer, o gumwad. Anyway, bigger concerns:

“Does it, like… mean anything I should be aware of?”

Does this at all indicate that I’m slowly turning into a Krang-zombie? was the unspoken question. No, he didn’t expect Krang would answer honestly if it was, but at the very least he wanted him to know he was (potentially) on to him.

Krang apparently got the message loud and clear, because it made him roll his eyes contemptuously. “This again— if I could control absolutely any aspect of your behavior, do you truly think I would put up with even half of the cheek you show me? Do you take me for a masochist?”

Leo rolled his eyes back, trying to hide that the point calmed him just a smidge. “What you do on your own time’s your business, Horchata.” He glanced back at the mirror, then back to Krang. “Is it permanent?”

Krang stared at him.

“…well?”

“…Pest, we both know you don’t want the honest answer to that question.”

Great. Great. Not only did he have to deal with the angry embodiment of “look! I just chewed my gum to look like a brain!” 24/7, but now his good looks were gonna be forfeit too! Now even if they got this whole dumb situation figured out, he’d still have to see Krang-yellow eyes wherever he went for the rest of his life—

Leo looked back at the mirror, trying to keep his stomach from plummeting.

“It’s not affecting your actual vision, is it?” Krang asked.

Leo paused, considering, and glanced around, trying to gauge if anything looked worse than usual.

“…no. Not that I can tell. Yet.”

“Then why do you feel as though you’ve just learned you’re going blind?” Krang asked tetchily.

A huff. “I just learned I’m being slowly physically disfigured here, I’m within my rights.”

“I’d hardly classify your sclera shifting hue slightly as ‘physical disfigurement,” Krang said haughtily, rolling his eyes again. When this didn’t magically lift Leo’s spirits, he insisted, sounding frustrated, “It isn’t as though you look bad!”

Again, Leo looked back at the mirror. After a moment, he gave a short sigh, shoulders slumping. That was the farthest thing from the point…

“Duh,” he said dully instead, not caring to explain his thought-process. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of crap this early in the morning. The well-rested feeling he’d had before had left him high and dry by now. “Look at the starting point we’re working with here – take a lot more than this to make me look bad.”

Krang, for some reason, still seemed frustrated. Oh well. His problem. Leo was going to get breakfast now.

His brothers were all in the kitchen when Leo got there, which – considering all their respective sleep schedules could sometimes be literally night and day from each other – was a little surprising. What was extra surprising was that both April and Casey were also there. Belatedly, Leo realized it must be Saturday. They both would’ve been at work at this time, otherwise.

“—keep trying to get them to let me pick up the story, but they’re all just like ‘O’Neil people want follow ups on things like the Spine-Breaking Bandit; nobody wants stories on corkboard factory drama—!’”

“I wanna hear about that!” Mikey interjected, standing to gather everyone’s plates (from what looked like breakfast burritos).

“Right?! Thank you!” April said, throwing her arms out exasperatedly.

“Send a message they can’t ignore about how you WON’T be ignored!” Casey suggested. “Show them the full force of your ire! Slash their tires!!”

“That sounds like a good way to get arrested, Jonesy,” Raph said doubtfully. “They probably got cameras set up in the station’s parking lot.”

Donnie and Casey respectively said “I could disable those remotely” and “I’ll do it for you” at once, right as the group noticed Leo in the doorway.

(He hadn’t been hovering. He hadn’t been standing back so he could listen to the normal, relaxed conversation and pretend everything was normal and relaxed. He hadn’t been putting off the moment they’d notice him and get sad.)

Something in the air shifted. Everyone gave him a smile that didn’t reach their eyes.

“Hey Leo,” April greeted (so far she’d proven to be the best at “acting normal”). “We saved you a burrito.”

She jerked over at the counter with her thumb. Sure enough, there was a paper plate covered with a paper towel, which in turn probably covered his burrito.

“Why is the parasite out?” Casey asked, glaring pointedly – and threateningly – at Krang. (So far, bless her, she’d proven to be the worst at “acting normal.”)

Leo forced an unbothered shrug, snagging his burrito from the counter. “He feels like it, I guess. Lucky us.”

He fell into the seat next to where Casey sat cross-legged on top of the island. From his shoulder, Krang was staring fixedly off into the corner of the room, apparently not paying a lick of attention to anything. Which… yeah, little weird. Usually he only ever came out when he had something specific to say, elsewise he stayed hidden in Leo’s shell. Presumably to try to ignore anything around him that he didn’t find palatable, which was everything. Definitely unusual that he was sitting out in the open right now…

“Why’re we going to slash people’s tires?” Leo asked, taking the first bite of his burrito.

April’s groan of “nobody’s slashing anyone’s tires” was almost drowned out by Casey’s cries of “they have disrespected April and invoked our wrath!!”

Leo raised a brow. “Oookay, kinda mixed reviews there… How about the corkboard drama, what’s that about?”

“I mean… it’s not so much drama with the corkboards as it is the factory that makes them?” April said, rubbing the back of her neck. “See, one half of the upper management wants to start harvesting their cork oat bark every ten years, but the other half wants to stay the course of only harvesting every fourteen. The whole company might end up splitting right down the middle because of this— what?”

Leo had been trying to look interested, really he had. Or at least, he’d been trying not to look completely confused. Apparently he’d failed on all counts, because one way or another April had noticed.

He swallowed his bite of burrito, before saying slowly, “So… don’t get me wrong, this is definitely… news, but I mean… I’m gonna… kinda… have to side with your bosses with this one…?” Or whoever had been against running this story, Leo realized he hadn’t caught who’d said what, exactly.

(“Traitor,” Casey said.)

“I mean—!” Leo gestured at nothing for a second. “Look at all the crazy stuff that happens in New York! No one’s exactly going to be riveted by corkboard!” Giving April a pointed (and kind of apologetic) look, he insisted, “Look at all the weird stuff you do on a daily basis! You can’t tell me this is something you think people will be on the edge of their seat over…”

April looked at him for a second, and then she sighed. “It’s not gonna win me any Pultzers, no,” she admitted, “but I need something here! At this rate I’m gonna just be running around the studio getting people coffee for the rest of my life! I need a break! This is all I’ve got!” Slumping, chin resting in both hands, she sighed again. “It’s not like I can talk about any of the actual interesting stories I’ve got a beat on… all those are yokai/mutant-based. Which… yeah, not an option.”

Looking back up, she asked, “Don’t suppose you’ve got any ideas, do you?”

Three things happened in quick succession:

1. Leo lifted his hand in a half-shrug, because no, he didn’t.
2. Krang, as soon as his hand was in range, took hold of it.
3. Everyone in the room froze, stock-still and staring, trying to decide if what they were seeing was, in fact, what they were seeing.

And… yep. Krang did indeed have both front tentacles gently wrapped around Leo’s hand. It might’ve even seemed affectionate, if everyone present hadn’t known for a fact that Krang didn’t come equipped with that setting.

There was a full three second lapse before Krang took note of the silence that had swallowed up the room. He looked up, realized all eyes were on him, looked down…

His eyes squeezed shut, as if pained, and he released Leo’s hand.

“Ignore that,” he muttered, looking resolutely back at his far off corner and sinking down on Leo’s shoulder a little.

Leo stared. He looked around at everyone, trying to find an explanation somewhere in their expressions. Instead he found exact replicas of his confusion. He had five quick, silent conversations of “what was that?” “I don’t know either!” with each of them, before he finally turned back to Krang to get to the bottom of things.

“Heeey, soo, Krangarang? I don’t mean to pry or anything, but UM – what the hell?”

“Nothing,” he insisted brusquely, then amended, “instinct, ignore it.”

Leo cast another look around the room. Nope, not just him, confusion levels remained unchanged, good to know. He looked back. “‘Instinct’?? It was ‘instinct’ for you to hold my hand??”

Krang shifted on Leo’s shoulder. Leo wondered if it was as obvious to the rest of the room as it was to him just how uncomfortable he was.

“The body I’m in is still forming, and as such the instincts to which it’s adhering are more akin to that of a…” He faltered, apparently fumbling for the appropriate word, before evidently giving up and saying, “To that of a newer Krang.”

“‘Newer’?” Donnie repeated, head tilted skeptically.

“Do you mean like… a baby?” Mikey asked.

Krang didn’t specify directly, instead simply finishing, “Newer Krang will sometimes latch onto things, often subconsciously, for a multitude of reasons. When you seemingly presented your hand to me, I took it without thinking because of this. Instinct.”

Okay. Fair enough. Leo wasn’t quite ready to let this go, though: “Mind sharing what some of the reasons might be for a Krang to just grab at things, exactly…?”

Krang huffed, shifting again, and listed, “Stability, general tactile assessment of whatever they’ve managed to get a hold of, enrichment…” Then, conspicuously more mumbled than the rest, “a sense of security…”

Leo narrowed his eyes, but before he could actually comment he was cut off by an “awww…”

He looked over his shoulder at Mikey incredulously. Everyone else did too. Mikey at least had the decency to look a little sheepish.

“That is sorta cute, though,” he defended weakly against the silent disbelief he was getting hit with. “Like… baby Krangs hold onto things to feel safer? That’s sweet…”

“Also not what I said,” Krang insisted hotly, though still conspicuously not looking at them. “But sure, fine. Put whatever nonsensical spin on my words you need to understand them. It’s of no importance to me.”

Everyone looked at each other. Specifically, everyone looked questioningly at Leo. The best he could offer was a shrug from the shoulder Krang wasn’t sitting on. Confused glances uniformly morphed into expressions that screamed 'okay then…'

Leo rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, silently agreeing. 'Tell me about it...'

“Anyway,” April said after another beat, “we were all thinking about maybe putting on a movie or something? None of us have anything better going on today, and the weather’s supposed to be gross all weekend… you want in?”

“Yeah,” Leo agreed, snarfing the last few bites of his burrito, “sounds good to me!”

Afterwards, everyone began filing out of the kitchen, already arguing about which movie they should watch (which movie they should start with, more like – already Leo could hear negotiations of “okay we can watch that too but only if—!”). It was only then Leo let his expression of ease and nonchalance slip towards the suspicion he was feeling.

“What the hell was all that?” Leo sniped, looking over to Krang as he slowly trailed after everyone out of the kitchen. “Since when do Krang need ‘SeCuRiTy’?”

“I told you,” Krang bit back, tone low and scathing, “that if you explained the situation to me, I’d handle it.”

Leo stumbled to a stop. “…um… wh…?”

Krang growled. “According to your rant last night, your greatest source of displeasure is your brothers’ current treatment of you, yes? And, as far as you’ve been able to surmise, their current treatment of you is rooted in their dislike of me?”

A huff, and Krang slunk down just a bit further into Leo’s shell. If Leo wasn’t too far off, he was only just stopping himself from disappearing into it completely.

He went on, “If your brothers see me as a creature seeking out ‘security,’ they’re less likely to classify me as a threat. If I’m less of a threat, they won’t avoid you. Which means you can stop self-comforting with your stupid jokes, which then means you can stop chasing yourself in circles about whether or not you’re being selfish.”

In a voice that was so poisonously bitter Leo could practically taste the acridness of it on his own tongue, Krang spat, “I’ve just destroyed my own reputation for your comfort. You’re welcome.”

Leo stared, uncomprehending. That whole… that whole thing that just happened…

That had all been for him…?

“Um,” he said again, “I mean… thanks for— for trying, I guess? But five seconds of you being cute isn’t gonna make everyone magically forget everything you did before. It’s gonna take a lot more than that to—”

“Yes,” Krang snapped, sinking another inch or so into Leo’s shell. “I am aware, thank you. So kind of you to remind me that I’ll be required to continue this humiliating charade for the foreseeable future. Once more, entirely for your benefit.”

Leo’s brow furrowed. “I mean jeeze, you don’t gotta. No one’s making you, if you hate it so much—”

“Your mood’s improved,” Krang grumbled darkly. “Just now, during that whole conversation, your mood buoyed.” Another huff. “So yes, technically, ‘I gotta,’ and you’re ‘making me.’”

Krang wasn’t… he wasn’t wrong. About the first part, at least. Just now, with his brothers… that had felt weirdly normal. They’d all been on the same page. They’d all been equally confused, equally weirded out… It hadn’t been “Leo and his unwanted attachment on one side, his family on the other,” it had been “Leo, his family, and what the hell was that guy doing over there??”

Things had felt okay, for just a second.

And Krang had orchestrated that intentionally?

It still didn’t count. It was still rooted in selfishness, just like him listening to Leo vent the other night had been. This was still manipulative and only for Krang’s benefit—

—even though Krang was obviously humiliated and unhappy about the whole thing right now. And yet still made it clear that he was going to keep doing it to make Leo feel better.

…where did that leave them, exactly?

“…thank you,” Leo finally said quietly. It was the automatic response to someone doing something for you, so it was the only thing his brain could seemingly think to throw out just then. He’d need a little longer to process everything before he could come up with anything more… situationally-specific, or even particularly articulate.

Krang grumbled indistinctly back.

---

Joy of joys, Krang had just endured the most humiliating experience of his existence thus far (which, everything about his current situation taken into consideration, said quite a bit). He wondered if the moment would be topping itself soon. It would certainly fit the trajectory his life seemed to be on as of late…

He sat on his host’s shoulder, fighting so hard to keep down a scowl that his face was starting to cramp. He couldn’t have described what was playing in front of him if his life had hung in the balance over it, because so much of his focus was being channeled into maintaining a neutral expression.

His insides felt like they had just been hooked up to a low-voltage charge – twisting and writhing incessantly against each other, not pained to any debilitating degree but unignorably uncomfortable. His enemies’ judgement was louder than any other earth ambiance he’d been subjected to thus far, without them even needing to voice it. He wanted nothing more than to tuck into his host’s shell where things were muffled. At the very least, they wouldn’t be able look at him from inside there.

Unfortunately, doing so would render the shame he’d just experienced moot, and currently the only thing making it bearable was knowing that it had served a greater purpose.

He hadn’t lied when he’d said that, when young, Krang tended to wrap their tentacles around anything that presented itself for wrapping. In fact it was common enough that, once they grew out of being small enough to eat, elder Krang would often surreptitiously pass their juniors random items to see how long it would take them to realize they’d run out of tentacles with which to hold said items.

Krang himself had been endlessly amused by how consistently his brother had fallen for this. His brother, in turn, had never failed to be endlessly annoyed by it, and on more than one occasion had lobbed the objects he’d been passed at Krang’s head once he’d realized what had been going on. His aim was terrible, so it was fine – honestly his reaction had just made the entire process even more amusing to Krang—

Fitting that his brother had been so good for a laugh. He’d had been nothing more than a joke. A weakling. His death was proof of that.

Anyway.

Taking hold of his host’s hand hadn’t been a choice, or at least not one gladly made. It was a mortifyingly pathetic, juvenile act that he’d grown out of centuries ago, but it had been all Krang could think to do to kickstart the goal he’d set. It was the truth that it served to make him appear as less of a threat, and therefore hopefully reduce the others’ hesitance to let his host participate in group activities. He didn’t like the effect isolation was having on his host any more than said host did he’d had enough isolation to last him the rest of his life, so the sooner that stopped, the better.

Besides. There were other benefits to playing the part of a needy, sentimental fool. Ones even greater than the aforementioned.

Even though his enemies believed they would have warning to his separation from his host, their guards were still very obviously up. All it would take to dismantle his plans for revenge would be even one of them deciding they didn’t believe what he’d told them, and taking precautions against exactly what he intended to do. Setting up some sort of alarm, for instance, or sleeping lighter. Succumbed to their paranoia completely and did as they’d threatened before, and quarantined his host. Any number of things, really.

But if he could make them think he was weak? If he could convince them he was something small and defenseless? Perhaps even frightened or lonely?

Why would they set up defenses against something like that?

Of course, it was highly unlikely that gaining their trust would be a quick or even especially easy venture. He’d been maybe too hostile towards the beginning of this debacle. Or, perhaps, he’d been the perfect amount of hostile. The group was comprised of weaklings and fools, but they weren’t entirely unintelligent. They likely would have seen through a ruse of neediness right from the beginning if he’d come out to early with it, and then he would’ve had nowhere to go from there. This way, at least, there was the argument that he'd been “worn down,” or something nauseatingly pathetic like that.

At any rate, if he truly wanted his adversaries to start finding him less formidable (had to fight down a scowl and a gag there), it would probably behoove him to start being more of a (nonthreatening) presence. Give them time to get used to him, or something. So rather than ducking away, like he wanted to, he remained where he was, silently watching the projection on the screen in front of him with rest.

He hated every second of it, but still. He persisted. Because what choice did he have, really?

Notes:

Had to cut out a whole section of this chapter because I simply was not vibing with actually writing it at this time. So that's why this chapter is comparatively less... less than the last few prior. My apologies for that!

At least I can say I got ch. 10 jumpstarted...?

Chapter 10: Welcome to History/Biology Class

Notes:

Many apologies for the break between chapters; no one regrets losing the lovely momentum I'd had more than I, believe me. But the puppy I’d had for over a decade passed away shortly after I'd posted the last chapter, so I was a little distraught and not really in much of a mood to write.

Alternative title for this chapter is “Lore-Dumps and Worldbuilding.” Which, though necessary to set things up for later, was a bitch and a half to actually write. I’m doubting if I paced any of it properly. Hopefully the info’s interesting enough where it’s still entertaining to read and not something to slog through. Next bit ought to be more exciting, at least. (I hope.)

April hadn’t been lying with her weather report – it was, in fact, “gross.”

Watching a movie had morphed into a marathon, which had carried them all past lunch. It was now around lupper time, and their breakfast burritos were collectively gone. Nobody had felt like cooking, so they’d ordered out (pizza, as if there’d been any question). Raph and Casey had drawn the short straws to wait for the delivery guy, which was what found them standing just out of the way of the water dripping from an overhead grate. April and his brothers were waiting comfortably back in the lair, safe and dry.

April, his brothers, and. And the Krang.

Raph didn’t like it. 

Aww, so the Krang was ~nervous~ or whatever? Needed to feel ~secure~? Swell! One, why should any of them care, and two, where did the dumb fleshcube get off thinking it had any right to take comfort from his brother, huh? After everything it did to him??

 “I don’t like it,” Casey said suddenly, glaring up at the grate.

Raph blinked, suddenly unsure if he’d been thinking out loud. “Don’t like what?”

“The Krang!!” Casey burst. “Why has it been out all day?!”

“Right?!” Raph felt his shoulders release a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Guess he’d been physically tweaked on top of being emotionally tweaked. (This didn’t clear up if he’d been talking to himself or not, but at least they were both in agreement over whatever he’d said!) “I haven’t been able to enjoy any of the movies with it just there!”

“I’ve been watching it more than I have any of the movies!!” Casey agreed. “How can anyone enjoy ‘Crouching Shrimp, Hidden Tiger Prawn,’ when there is an ALIEN PARASITE sitting two chairs over?!”

“You can’t! It’s bringing down the whole vibe!”

“And it’s suspicious!”

“And it’s suspicious!! Like for real, why’s it suddenly so bent on inserting itself into family-time? No one invited it! It’s weird!”

“It’s not enjoying the movies either!” Casey pointed out furiously. “Did you see its face?”

“No expression!!” Raph confirmed, frustratedly gesturing at his own face. “Creepy-blank the entire time! Who sits through the flashback of Master Greenberg getting eaten by a horse to protect his teenage protégés and doesn’t tear up?!”

“I cry every time!!”

“That’s what I’m sayin! It ain’t natural!” Raph made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, falling back against the wall. As soon as he did, though, another grievance nudged to the front of his thoughts, and he pushed himself back off it again.

“Did you see Leo’s eyes?” he demanded. “They’re different now!”

 Casey’s expression told him that, no, she hadn’t personally noticed anything different, but she was still appalled by the concept anyway. “What?!”

“Yeah! They’re all like—” he gestured frantically at his own face, “—yellow now! They look more like Krang eyes!”

He hesitated, then added, “I mean yeah, Raph’s eyes are kinda yellow-y too, always have been, and like… Krangs fudging up your eyes doesn’t necessarily mean anything… but Leo’s eyes were never the same color as Raph’s! And both of Leo’s eyes are different! If the same thing that happened to Raph happens to him, does that mean he’ll have to wear two patches??”

“Are you positive we can’t mercilessly rend the parasite tentacle from tentacle with our righteous fury?” Casey asked. “Because I still think that’s our best option…”

Raph huffed. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me, I’d’ve already done that twice by now if that were an option.”

Casey sagged. “Well, if there’s any new developments on that front…”

“You’ll be the first person I call, Todd-Scout’s honor,” Raph promised, holding up his right hand.

Casey nodded, satisfied.

Then, “…what about you?”

Raph, who’d been looking back up at the grate, turned back to her. “Huh?”

“How’re you handling…” she made an empty gesture, “…all this?”

‘I’m fine, just worried about Leo,’ hovered at the tip of Raph’s tongue. He just had to say it.

…he just had to say it. Any time now.

Raph sighed, looking towards the grate again. “…feels like I got a wad of cotton in the back of my throat all the time,” he confessed. “No matter how much I swallow it’s too dry and fuzzy to go down.” He pressed both palms over his eyes (well. Over his eye and his patch). “I know this is one of those ‘lean on your brothers’ –things, but like… we’re a man down. I sure as heck can’t lean on Leo for any of this, because that’s backwards, and it feels wrong to talk to Mikey, Donnie, or April about Leo…” 

“…what about your dad?”

Raph paused, trying to work out how to word it, before he finally uncovered his eyes. “…Pops is great with advice when he’s not going through something at the same time. Otherwise he kinda… shuts down. And he’s through the roof worrying about Leo right now, and anyway I don’t wanna take his attention away from Leo, ’cause he definitely needs it more…” He sighed again. “I just wanna fix this. How do I fix this?”

Casey gave him a look not usually seen on her. She opened her mouth, hesitated, then looked away again.

They stood in silence for a minute. Then, Casey’s phone chirped. She dug it out of her sweatshirt pocket, glanced at it, furrowed her brow, then shoved it back.

“…everything good, Case?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” she said evenly. Which, for Casey, meant that everything was very-super not fine.

“Aw c’mon Jones,” he said, “don’t make me worry about you too, I’ve got enough to deal with right now.”

He said it like a joke. Which it sorta was, but also obviously kinda not.

She gave him a look that was half-apologetic, half “ugh why did you have to pull that card, how dare you,” before looking away and shuffling her feet.

“My parents are being annoying.”

Raph’s eyes widened. “Your parents? I— um, I thought you guys didn’t—?”

“We don’t talk,” Casey confirmed flippantly. “Or at least, we didn’t used to. I honestly didn’t think they still had my number. They’ve been trying to get me to meet with them for the last week.”

“The last week? Case, why didn’t you say—?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, so there’s no point in worrying.”

Now Raph furrowed his brow, Chasm be damned. “You wanna talk about it?”

She looked back to him, considering, then huffed and looked away again. “You’ve got enough to think about—”

“Raph’s a thoughtful guy. He’s gonna think about things whether he’s got details or not.” He tilted his head to the side just slightly. “Might as well gimme the deets, least this way I’m informed while I think.”

A beat.

“…I barely saw them at all when I was a kid,” Casey finally said. “One time I didn’t have a face-to-face conversation with them for three years straight. Suddenly now they keep trying to get me to ‘come home’ and ‘have dinner with them,’ and it’s like—”

She stopped, looking surly and upset and agitated. That was okay, Raph didn’t really need her to finish.

It’s like where was all of this when I NEEDED it?

“…hit me.”

Casey jerked her head to look at him, her furrowed brow raising, finding him standing in a defensive position.

“C’mon,” he said, motioning towards himself, “gimme your best shot, let it all out.”

There was an initial hesitation, about a second and a half of it, and then Casey moved. Raph was hit with a barrage of kicks and punches and low sweeps. He blocked, dodged, and gave back a few just so she wouldn’t get bored.

He threw a final punch. Casey spun away, landing in a wide stance, and bellowed. When she was finished, she gave the air a few more punches, then rounded on him, the fire back in her eyes.

“THANK YOU,” she roared, “I NEEDED THAT.”

He cheered, holding up his palm, which she high-fived with her usual vigor.

Raph wasn’t great when it came to talking people through their issues, he knew this. He usually ended up tripping over himself when he tried – what he said never felt like enough, so he’d try to add more, and… yeah. Big mess. With Casey, though? He never had that problem. Because talking was never what helped her sort herself out, smashing was. She had to punch out her feelings first so she could think of a solution with a clear head, or else just be at peace with the situation. Just knowing someone had her back helped.

(Kinda like him, honestly.)

She rounded on him suddenly, and he put up his fists again, thinking she wanted to go a second round.

Instead, she said (with what was obviously her whole chest), “I don’t know how to fix this, but I’m here for whatever comes no matter what, do you hear me?! There is nothing I won’t do to support the Mad Dogs!!”

Raph smiled, genuinely comforted for the first time in weeks. It was hard not to feel like you could get through something when someone was practically screaming they’d help you do it. “Yeah, Case. I know. Backatcha.”

Before Casey could say anything more, a voice above them suddenly said, “‘One twenty-two and an eighth…’?” Their food was here. “Where’s ‘one twenty-two and an eighth’?”

Poor guy nearly dropped their food when Casey yelled, “I’ll be up in a second to pay, do not leave!!” before quickly moving towards a nearby manhole.

---

“Didn’t your companions say they were having food brought in?”

Leo swallowed the Keebler cookie he’d just shoved whole into his mouth, already pulling another out of the package. “Yeah? And? I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since this morning.”

“Fair enough,” Krang conceded from his shoulder, face propped up on a tentacle. “I suppose I just find the vigor with which you’re shoveling foodstuffs into your face a bit alarming. You’re acting as though you aren’t guaranteed a meal for the next week.”

Shove, chew, swallow. “Like I said, I’m hungry.”

He realized too late his tone might’ve been a little defensive. Not his intention, but he did feel scrutinized. He didn’t actually have a reason to be as hungry as he was – it wasn’t like he’d been exerting himself today. And yeah, sure, he’d only had one burrito hours ago, and the rest of the fam was also hungry, but… Leo was Hungry. He felt like he hadn’t eaten in days rather than a few hours, which was something that was getting more and more common.

This problem wasn’t new, but it did unfortunately seem to be getting worse as time went on. At first he’d just needed an extra snack or two to keep him going through the day. Lately though, he’d been taking extra helpings whenever he thought no one would notice/comment on it. In between meals he felt perpetually one stomach-rumble away from hallucinating one of his brothers was a talking T-bone or something. The dad-bod that had haunted his dreams ever since Raph had fused them all together for a “team-building exercise” felt practically guaranteed at this rate.

Leo blamed stress, for all the good it did him.

Krang – who Leo had been expecting to be at least a little annoying about this – nodded. “You’re technically supporting two bodies at once, one of which is actively growing, so I suppose that makes sense…”

Leo froze mid-cookie. “’Scuse me? This is normal?”

A grumpy shrug. “As normal as anything else about our situation, I’d say.”

Leo thought for a second, then resumed munching cookies. “Figures I’m the one who’d have to do all the work here…”

He wasn’t sure if he’d meant that to come out bitter. It hadn’t, actually, and he couldn’t say he felt especially bitter (this was all becoming old hat by now). But it felt… weird to be jokey about something with Krang.

A huff. “You could always just pass the food along for me to eat directly if it’s such a burden to you, you know.”

Leo looked at him. “You can eat like this?”

Should this be as surprising as it was? Again, Leo wasn’t sure. He’d been given no real reason to think Krang wouldn’t be able to eat while he was attached to him, but in all the time he had been, he’d never once indicated any desire to eat either.

“…where would the food… go after I gave it to you?”

Krang blinked. “Wh—? Into my mouth and down my throat, I should hope??” He made a questioning, incredulous gesture. “‘Where would the food—?’ I’m going to start a stockpile in your shell, actually, hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s not what I meant, smartass,” Leo pouted.

“So what did you mean?”

Leo shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… if I give you food, once you’re done digesting it, where does it… y’know. Go? Because listen it’s weird enough just knowing you’re with me all the time, I’d rather be constantly starved than have to deal with—”

“First of all,” Krang interrupted, now looking exasperated, “Krangs’ bodies are infinitely more adept at converting food into energy. When we consume something, we use all of it, with no waste left behind.”

A(n awkward) beat, and then Leo finally said, “oh.” Another beat. “So you mean Krang don’t…?”

Krang shook his head, unbothered. “Second,” he went on, “why are you dancing around describing a regular aspect of your biology as though it’s not something your entire species does?”

Again, Leo fidgeted uncomfortably. “Because it’s gross…?”

“Is that supposed to be for my benefit?” Krang asked, bored. “Are you trying to be polite? Very sweet of you, I suppose, but I find everything about your kind ‘gross.’ Trying to shield me from a singular aspect is rather moot.”

Gosh. How nice. 

“Has anyone ever commented on how charming you are, Uno?” Leo asked, annoyed and tired. 

Krang offered a smirk that was entirely too self-satisfied. “It’s come up in conversation from time to time, yes.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “H’okay, reel it in, Snufflemuffin. Nobody likes an ego.”

“What’s your excuse, then?”

Now, usually, this would be the moment where Leo would bust out one of his world-class clapbacks. One was literally hovering on the tip of his tongue that very moment.

He threw him a dirty look, and didn’t say anything.

Leo didn’t really know where he and Krang stood anymore. Obviously he still didn’t like the jerk, but did Krang (technically) playing the fool for his benefit warrant a… a ceasefire of sorts? Or should he keep things business-as-usual? He hadn’t asked him to do that, and anyway he still wasn’t completely convinced this wasn’t some kind of plot. Could he use it for a plot of his own (sssomehow)?

But then, what if Krang was telling the truth, and this was (probably) the first nice thing he’d ever done for someone else? Would Leo plotting to out-plot him make Leo the jerk of the scenario? But then, if Leo DIDN’T try to out-plot his plots and it actually WAS a plot, could that end badly for… everyone, pretty much?

Bleh, too many questions…

He was saved from getting smacked by any more by a holler of “food’s here!” from the next room. 

Leo stuffed the Keeblers back into the cupboard, and was halfway turned around to leave the kitchen when a second call of “and so’s Draxum!” made him slow. That was… weird… Draxum didn’t usually pop in out of the blue…

He was interrupted in thinking too deep on that by “and so’s the Foot guys??”

Leo came to a full-stop. If was weird for Draxum to come by unannounced, it was downright freaky for the former-Foot Clan leaders to do it. They never visited, announced or not.

Was this… did this herald something bad?

(Without thinking, he glanced over at Krang to try to gauge his reaction. For what he didn’t know, so maybe it was for the best that he just looked back bemused. It didn’t spur Leo to start worrying more, at any rate.)

Leo reentered the main room to find everyone looking at each other with varying levels of interest, confusion, and wariness. Dad had even joined the party. Raph and Casey were holding two pizzas each, with various side-breads and wings balanced on top. Raph had a two-liter of cola under his arm. Lieutenant and Brute were respectively holding another flat box (this one with their bakery’s logo printed on the lid), and a bottle of… something, Leo couldn’t quite tell what immediately.

They were also observing Draxum edgily, who was returning the looks in full. Huh…

No one seemed like they were about to say anything (maybe they just weren’t sure what to say), so Leo took his cue to give the awkward silence that was building a quick kick in the pants.

“Barry! Former-Foots!” he greeted, drawing their attention away from each other and over to him. “What’s, um… what’s up? You guys hear we were having a movie-day with pizza and just want in on the fun, orrr…?”

(Internally, he tacked on a disclaimer of “I’m not exactly feeling what you’d call ‘sturdy’ at the moment, and cannot be held responsible for any emotional breakdowns that may or may not occur as a result of any info you might share, good or bad; so unless you want a weepy puddle of turtle on your hands, tread lightly,” to the end of the sentence he’d left hanging.)

Brute raised an eyebrow once he got a good look at him, asking, “Did you get a new mask or something? Something’s different…”

Leo’s stomach magically transformed from an organ into little more than a knotty snarl. So the eye thing was noticeable, then. Great.

“Nope, same mask as always,” he deflected, maybe a little brusquer than he meant to. Then again, “What’s up?”

Draxum shifted, and Leo saw his eyes flick first back to the Foot Clan, and then down to Dad. He got a kind of permissive nod back, and then said, neutrally, “I’d been doing some research on possible… mystic solutions to your problem.” A small gesture at Krang. “I may have a lead, of sorts, and thought it prudent to discuss the matter in person rather than attempt it over a ‘fone.’”

“Yeah, um…” Brute interjected, “we mighta found something interesting too. Aaand also didn’t wanna try to explain it all over the phone.”

Leo felt Krang tense, his tentacles squeezing his shoulder slightly. He didn’t need to look at him to know he wasn’t happy about that. Whether it was because things would probably end not so great for him should they actually manage to separate them prematurely, or because he was still convinced they couldn’t and was offended they refused to take his word for it, Leo couldn’t say.

Leo, meanwhile, wasn’t sure what he should be feeling just then. Relieved, because even if nothing was concrete yet, they might be on track to cutting this nightmare short? Or should he have his guard up for disappointment, just in case?

“What’s in the box?” he asked Lieutenant rather than decide.

Lieutenant cleared his throat. “Since the Recru— since Casey’s brownies have been selling so well alongside the cupcakes, we’d been toying with the idea of selling other baked goods as well. Cookies, specifically, at least to start.” He shifted slightly where he stood, flipping the lid. “Since we were coming, we thought we’d test the prototypes on all of you.”

The cookies in the box were about four inches wide, and Leo could tell just by looking at them they were the soft, chewy kind. There were all sorts of flavors, all with frosting and/or sprinkles. One looked like it had a blueberry sauce on top (was “sauce” the right word? Leo didn’t know cooking).

Leo recognized a “sorry we’re the reasons you’re in this situation” peace-offering when he saw it. He wished he wasn’t as hungry as he was, because it meant he had no way of knowing if he was internally accepting it because legitimately recognized the sentiment behind it, or just because it was making his mouth water.

“Ooh,” Mikey said, looking down into the box (behind him, Raph and Casey had set down their haul, and had come to look over his shoulder). “These look great. What are the flavors?”

Lieutenant, seemingly put a bit at ease by the open reception of their offering, started pointing at different cookies: “Sugar and chocolate chip, just because they’re staples, double-chocolate chunk with whipped fudge on top, this one’s s’mores – the flambéd the marshmallow fluff topping is my favorite touch, personally – this one’s lemon and blueberry—”

“Yes, delightful,” Draxum sneered, interrupting. “Can we move on to matters of actual importance, please? I can’t speak for anyone else—” contemptuous look thrown at the former-Foots here, “—but the information I’ve brought ranks above baked goods in terms of significance.”

Lieutenant scowled. “Okay, there’s a lot of unnecessary hostility happening here,” he groused, which sent Barry sputtering.

“’Unnecessary—’?! You come here touting relevant material, then immediately start plugging your pathetic shop—!”

“Hey, they asked!” Brute retaliated, gesturing between Leo and Mikey. “And anyway, you’ve been glaring at us the whole time we’ve been standing here, what’s that about?”

“How about the fact that you two are the reason any of us need to be here with information to begin with?” Draxum demanded. Then, with his indignation audibly swerving towards the more petty side of things, “How about the fact that you tried to sacrifice me to the Dark Armor??”

“You wanted to use it to destroy all humans!” Lieutenant countered. “You’re hardly blameless in that situation!”

“What did you think the Shredder was going to do if your plan had worked?! Your goals were the same as mine, and you’re traitors on top of it!”

“Eh, you were a holier-than-thou jerk though,” Brute dismissed, waving the hand that wasn’t holding the bottle he had like he was shooing off a fly. “It balances out.”

“It does not—!”

“Okay info-dump time!” Leo interjected, popping up between the two sides, so as to better grab their attention. “Barry, Loots-and-Brutes, feel free to grab a slice while you talk, we’re all going to. We’ll try the cookies after!”

There were a few lingering looks of dislike, but neither Draxum nor the Foots did anything to continue their bicker-match. Mikey took the opportunity to dip into the kitchen to grab some paper plates, and then slowly everyone began moving to serve themselves some pizza.

(“Do your allies always squabble this much?” Krang asked in an unimpressed undertone as Leo nabbed three slices of Hawaiian. Leo gave him a quick look, but didn’t otherwise respond.)

“So,” he started, once everyone had mostly filled their plates and gotten settled, “what’s the scoop, you guys?”

Draxum was holding up a piece of supreme by the corner of its crust, eying it dubiously. (Which, get over it dude. One, there was a local pizza place run and owned by yokai; this was hardly a human-exclusive food, or whatever your issue was. Two, 100% guarantee it was higher quality than the stuff you served in your cafeteria even if it was.) He let the slice drop back down to his paper plate, and opened his mouth to respond.

“Why do you have a bottle of tequila?” Dad asked suddenly, cutting him off. He was staring fixedly (and sort of suspiciously) at the bottle Brute had set down next to where he’d sat.

(Leo, who was closest, reached over and picked the bottle up, inspecting it. Yup, now that he looked, it was indeed tequila.)

“Oh,” Brute began awkwardly, evidently just remembering. “Uh… well, see, we kinda thought that the whole… situation here would probably be a little… y’know, stressful. And I mean we usually drink saké, so when we ended up with this we figured ‘hey, those guys probably need it more than we do, or at least the blue guy probably does,’ so—”

“My boys cannot drink tequila!” Dad balked, gesturing agitatedly with the hand that wasn’t holding his plate.

Lieutenant and Brute glanced at each other, clearly taken aback and confused by Dad’s intensity. Looking back, Brute asked, “Are turtles… allergic to tequila or something—?”

“They’re all underage!!”

(“What is ‘tequila’?” Krang demanded quietly next to Leo’s ear.

“Alcohol,” Leo muttered back. Then, realizing Krang probably wouldn’t know what that was either: “Screws with your brain to either chill you out or get you loopy and fucked up for fun, but if you drink too much you’ll wanna die the next day. …if you don’t drink so much that you, y’know. Actually die. Affects how your brain grows so you can’t drink it too young or you’ll get messed up, or something like that.”

“…what a lovely gift,” Krang said dryly, looking disgusted. “Can’t imagine why the rat wouldn’t want you drinking that…”)

Both Foots each offered empty stares. There was a clear struggle to process the information that’d been given. Finally, haltingly, Lieutenant said, “They are not…”

Dad was nodding, incredulous that someone was trying to argue with him about the ages of his sons. “Red is the oldest, and he is only twenty! None of them are drinking something as hard as tequila!”

The Foots looked as though their entire worldview was being rocked. Hoarsely, Brute clarified, “They’re around the same age as Casey…?”

“Just outta curiosity,” Raph asked, brow raised, “how old did you guys think we were?”

Again, Brute and Lieutenant glanced at each other. A beat, and Lieutenant croaked out, “Mid-twenties…?”

Yet another beat.

“Wait,” Mikey said, clearly doing math in his head, “so if you guys thought we were in our mid-twenties now… does that mean we’d been passing for early-twenties back when we met…?”

The Foots’ still shocked (and increasingly distressed) looks were all the answer needed.

“…dang,” Leo said. “We coulda been getting away with way more than we’d been bothering with…”

“I always knew my general aura was both distinguished and mature,” Donnie said, balancing his chin between his extended thumb and index, looking pleased. Looking around, he added, “Don’t know how they made that mistake with the rest of you, though…”

“We’d been fighting kids that whole time…” Brute said, looking haunted.

“We’d been losing to kids that whole time,” Lieutenant corrected, looking worse.

Draxum, who’d finally stopped giving his pizza judgmental looks and had actually started nibbling on it, grunted. “Only in terms of actual years alive. Physically and mentally, you were probably in the clear.”

He looked like the admission had tasted like the bitterest, sourest lemon to ever exist, probably just by virtue of it supporting Lieutenant and Brute in any way. Which made the fact that he still had supported them especially weird, considering what he’d said hadn’t even made sense. He didn’t notice everyone staring at him, bewildered.

“Hey, so, Barry,” Leo finally said, “what the heck is that supposed to mean??”

A scoff. “You’re turtles. You’re YOKAI turtles. You’re going to develop differently from humans. So even though you’d only been alive for fifteen to thirteen years by the time you met them, you were likely physically and mentally in your early twenties by that time.”

He took a bite of his pizza, nose scrunching a bit as he chewed, clearly not sure how he felt about it. “Frankly, had I not recognized you as the turtles I’d personally mutated – and therefore known your actual ages – I would have placed you in that age range as well. Having since spent my fair share around human teenagers, I can assure you that it’s decidedly unusual for a fifteen-year-old to reach the size or level of musculature that Raphael had possessed at that point in his life. Considering you all profess to loving humans so much, that should have been your first clue.”

(“I just thought I was big for my age,” Raph mumbled, a little dejectedly.)

“So— wait,” Donnie said, “does this mean we actually are in our mid-twenties?”

“Does this mean we’re all going to DIE sooner??” Mikey asked, a little panicked.

(Leo, who’s brain suddenly caught up with the implication of what the Foots had said, demanded “wait do we look like we’re in our mid-twenties?? do you think we look old?” at said Foots. They both muttered things like “you look the same as always, mid-twenties was just the math” and “mid-twenties are not ‘old.’”)

Draxum rolled his eyes. “No, reaching certain physical milestones sooner than other species isn’t an indication that you’ll die sooner. And I wouldn’t put you at mid-twenties yet.” (He was being really casual about this bomb he’d just dropped; Leo couldn’t say he appreciated it.) “I think you’re in a plateau stage at the moment.”

“What do you mean ‘plateau stage’?” Dad asked (huh, how must it feel to learn your kids’ ages were wonky?).

“I mean it as exactly what you’d think,” Barry said, “they’re at a point where their development has plateaued – mental development, in this case, I suspect they’ve all finished developing physically by this juncture, but that’s beside the point – which will later resume as they continue to age.”

At the continued, uncomprehending stares he was getting, he insisted, “It’s a perfectly normal occurrence for certain yokai! For example, there’s a certain species of slime yokai that will develop to the mental and physical level of a toddler, and remain that way for upwards of twenty years. They’ll then speed through their childhood and adolescence in the span of about a month, spend the next seventy years or so existing as an adult, rapid-age to that of an elder over the span of about three days, then promptly die. That’s normal for them.”

He made a ‘and that’s how it is’ sort of gesture. “The slime have two plateau stages – toddlerhood and adulthood. If I had to guess, all of you are experiencing one now. You developed a bit more rapidly than the human half of your DNA would suggest, and now you’ll be sitting at early adulthood for a stretch. I’d have to do more specific research on the topic to determine exactly how long you’ll be sitting at this phase – and indeed, if you’ll have more than one plateau phase – but from what I know of turtle yokai, it doesn’t strike me as unusual.”

A third, much more prolonged beat.

“Sooo…” Leo began, holding up the bottle slightly, “can we drink this then, orr—?”

“Absolutely not,” said Dad and Draxum in unison, while Raph rolled his eye and said, “Let it go, Leo…”

Leo motioned emptily, offended. “Why not, Barry just said we’re probably totally ‘matured’ by this point—”

“I’m not,” Krang interjected suddenly. “And whatever goes through your system goes through mine, so you wouldn’t be able to drink anyway.” He gestured at a makeshift endtable nearby. “Put it down.”

“You don’t get to tell him what he can or can’t do just because of how it’ll affect you!” Raph snapped.

Leo was suddenly just a little bit confused on Raph’s stance on the matter.

Krang was too, apparently: “Do you find some sort of psychosexual satisfaction in contradicting me?” he demanded, exasperated. “You yourself literally just told him not to drink it!”

“Yeah, well—! It’s – it’s the principle of it!” Raph insisted, crossing his arms.

“So on principle you’re going to be inconsistent and argumentative. Lovely. Splendid. Lucky me.”

“Okay boys, that’s enough,” Leo said, pinching between his eyes (and angling Krang away from Raph – who was glaring – just slightly). “No drinking until I’m officially twenty-one and don’t have Krang-cooties, sure, fine. Moving on…”

“Please,” Draxum agreed, as though he hadn’t just been one of the people majorly contributing to the recent tangent.

Rather than point this out, Leo just said, “Hit us with your best shot, goatman, whatcha find?”

Draxum straightened in his seat importantly. “As I said, I’ve been doing some research,” he began, “and in doing so I stumbled upon a long-forgotten piece of yokai history that may lead us to a solution.”

Looks of intrigue and tentative hope were thrown around the room. Mikey in particular caught Leo’s eye to give him a reassuring smile. Leo returned it weakly, still not sure how guarded he wanted to be towards this.

Draxum went on, “Millennia ago, at the beginning of yokais’ history, there were the mighty Titans, the first yokai. Towering, powerful beings, who would use their mystic powers to curse insolent humans to punish them. This led to the second generation of yokai – kappa and jorogumos and the like – who were more comparable to the yokai of present day—”

“Are you regaling us with where you got your inspiration from?” Dad cut in, eyes narrowed, unimpressed.

Draxum shot him a glare for the interruption, but then shifted in a way that was distinctly uncomfortable.

“…yes, actually,” he confessed (Dad’s ears shot up, either in surprise or just outrage). “You see, even after the last of the Titans fell, leaving the second-generation yokai to inherit what they left behind, there’s historical evidence of humans STILL being turned into yokai. Which, logically, shouldn’t have been possible. None of the second-generations would’ve had the power to curse other humans as the Titans had cursed them. And, indeed, every possible source points away from the second-generations transforming humans through their own powers. Instead, they point to them using empyrean.”

Before he could go on, however, Mikey interrupted, looking sad and asking, “Why were the Titans cursing humans to begin with?”

Draxum shrugged. “Like I said – they were insolent. Or sometimes just annoying. Orrr the Titans were bored and needed a laugh, the legends vary story to story.”

At Mikey’s continued dismay, Draxum insisted, “The ones who got turned into yokai were probably happier anyway! And it led to the creation of yokai as they exist today, so it turned out fine!” As if somehow driving home his point, he added, “It beat what they did to some of the other humans, at any rate…”

“What did they do to the other humans?” Donnie asked, brow raised.

Draxum hesitated, probably realizing he may have stepped in it a bit. Eventually though, he admitted, “An assortment of things.” Then, presumably compelled by the eternal need to showcase how smart and well-read he was, “Worst I ever read about was cursing humans with everlasting injuries, eternally as fresh and painful as the day they were inflicted. The wounds would never close, they would just bleed and bleed and bleed, even long after the human should have logically bled out. If the legends are to be believed, the afflicted humans were boiled alive by their villages, who thought they were possessed but had no other way to kill them.”

…well. What a cheerful anecdote. The horror plastered across everyone’s faces told Leo they had enjoyed that story just as much as he had.

(Save Krang, who looked contemplative and was muttering, “Hm. Sounds like hemophylius…” Whatever the hell that was.)

Draxum coughed, having the grace to at least realize he’d just dropped some very unsettling info. Valiantly trying to get back on track, he continued, “As I was saying… yes, this legend was the basis for my previous endeavors, in multiple ways. Empyrean was the main component in my oozesquitos.”

He shifted again, still looking a little uncomfortable but finding his rhythm. “Obviously, empyrean doesn’t work to mutate things by itself; it’s just a rare compound. But there is some truth in the myth, I just needed to fiddle with it a bit to uncover it.”

“How’d you do that?” Donnie asked, actually looking interested (the nerd).

“I isolated a component within the empyrean – the part with mutagenic capabilities – and amplified it, thus making mutation through it possible,” Draxum explained, looking proud (the old nerd).

“Was your Plan B to start putting un-healing holes in people, too?” April asked humorlessly.

“Who’s ready to try the cookies?” Lieutenant suddenly interrupted, clearly wanting to deflect any more talk of wounds that didn’t stop bleeding or people getting boiled (or, likely, something even worse). General murmurs of agreement met the question – apparently everyone was willing to call halftime if it meant putting the kibosh on more of that.

In an effort to allow as many people to taste as many of the cookies as possible, they were divvied up like tiny versions of the pizzas that had preceded them. Everyone grabbed a slice of the flavors they thought looked most interesting, and went to town. Leo had taken a piece of each, obviously. Papa didn’t raise no fool. When you get the chance to try a smorgasbord of sweets, you try them all, mister!

(…he might’ve even snuck two of the lemon-blueberry; he was very interested in that sauce.)

The Foot’s cookies were even better than their cupcakes, which already ranked as unfairly good in Leo’s opinion. Maybe this was just because they lapped the Keeblers he’d been horking down by a green mile, maybe it was just because his body was screaming for sustenance to cover the additional energy cost of being unwillingly turned into a duplex. Either way, he was already plotting out excuses for when he inevitably became a repeat customer for these things.

Although… speaking of “additional energy costs” and plotting…

Leo glanced at Krang, still sitting on his shoulder. He looked… impatient wasn’t exactly the word, but it was close. Probably wanted everyone to hurry up and get on with what they had to say or something. Which, thinking about it, made Leo more and more suspicious that Krang was nervous about this whole deal, rather than just offended that no one was taking his word at face value… hm.

He looked back down at his plate, at the two small, triangular pieces of lemon-blueberry cookie sitting on it. Habit of his – he always saved the best looking bites (or the flavors he was most excited about) for last when he ate.

His brow scrunched.

“Hey,” he said, only just loud enough to get Krang’s attention. When he turned to him, Leo held out one of the pieces to him. “Here.”

Krang glanced down at the little triangle, surprised, then back up at him. Slowly, he accepted the bit of cookie he was being offered.

“Cheers,” Leo muttered, tapping the final slice against Krang’s before popping it into his mouth. (Which: Damn. This was unquestionably going to be the new thing he’d end up desperately craving at 2am while he was doomscrolling. Help.) Krang raised his brow, clearly unfamiliar with the concept of “cheers,” but ate his piece without comment.

The lack of fanfare made his abrupt shift in expression all the more noticeable, oddly. Usually, Krang was scowling. Angry scowl, bored scowl, sleepy scowl, “ugh, why are you speaking to me” –scowl, he had a whole catalogue on standby.

He wasn’t scowling now.

“Good?” Leo asked.

A stupid question, honestly – Krang looked like he’d just found God in that cookie. He sort of hummed the affirmative, mumbled “it’s fine,” but didn’t say anything beyond that. Leo wondered if he was aware his attempts to seem aloof had fallen completely flat.

“…you want some more?”

Krang did slightly better in his attempt to not seem too eager at the offer (his response wasn’t too fast, and his tone was measured), but it was still abundantly obvious – to Leo, at least – that if the offer of more cookies had come with the caveat of “but you need to gnaw off one of your tentacles first!” he’d still seriously consider it.

Leo nonchalantly meandered back over to the cookie box while everyone else was distracted trading opinions about the flavors, and snagged a few more slices.

“Lemme know if you want more,” Leo muttered, passing Krang the pieces he’d been eying most. “Or just, like. Want some food in general, I guess.”

Krang once again accepted the cookies without comment, but he did shoot Leo a look.

He looked… not confused, exactly, but definitely a bit thrown-off. Leo had a sneaking suspicion he hadn’t expected dropping the info regarding food would lead to him being accommodated in any way. The shift from “don’t look at or talk to me, basically try to pretend you’re not here,” to “hey, can I get you anything?” probably felt pretty out of the box with that in mind. 

Good.

Leo didn’t trust Krang’s whole new “I’m doing this for you” –angle. Not completely, anyway. His ego was too huge and too much of his character was built on his ego for Leo to not immediately cry “scam!” at the whole thing. Intuition, paranoia, general dislike of the guy – call it whatever you wanted. Point was Krang was selling something, and Leo was seriously concerned about buyers’ remorse if he bought it.

So alright. Krang wanted to play “nice”? Let the games begin. Things were always more fun when you had two people playing, anyway…

If Leo was wrong, if Krang really was legitimately trying to help him – whether out of actual altruism (press X to intensely doubt) or just because he’d ranked the long-term benefits higher than the short-term embarrassment – Leo lost nothing. He was being nice for God’s sake, no regret there. If he was right, then maybe him matching the energy would be enough to shake Krang up a bit. As a group, the Krang didn’t strike Leo as the sort who’d know what to do with “niceness” in any form. Maybe it’d make him BSOD long enough where he’d forget he was trying to do something nefarious. Or at least gross him out a little – guys like him always seemed icked out by “warm fuzzies.” Alternatively, maybe it’d make him think he had Leo fooled, and he’d let something slip. Either way, Leo liked the thought that he was potentially fighting back somehow, even subtly. 

Made him feel a lot less guilty about accepting that what Krang was doing was actually helping.

Suddenly, Dad cleared his throat. His expression had gone just a bit serious, which was unfortunately undercut a little by the cookie crumbs still around his mouth and the front of his robe. 

“All the history is very interesting, Draxum,” he said, “but what does it have to do with Blue?”

Draxum, Leo realized, looked even more impatient to proceed than Krang had. And, unlike Krang, the cookies were doing nothing to placate him. “If you’d all stop interrupting and just listen, we could’ve gotten to that twenty minutes ago,” he grumbled.

He adjusted himself in his seat, clearly trying to get back into the groove he’d had when he’d first started explaining. “None of the history I’ve just shared was the ‘forgotten’ bit I’d described earlier – in fact if any of you had a proper yokai-education, you would have learned all of that in your third or fourth year at school. It was instead necessary background information you would need to understand the ‘forgotten’ portion.

“According to legend, empyrean could be used to mutate humans. Even if this isn’t entirely accurate – pure empyrean will not cause mutations on its own, for example – it’s accurate enough in that empyrean is a key element in the mutation process.” He sat forward in his seat, clearly getting to the part he’d been building up to this whole time. “The ‘forgotten history’ I’ve uncovered is a legend that, at some point in our history, empyrean was used to unmutate a human-turned-yokai.”

Silence.

“…that’s… cool and all,” Raph said slowly, “but, um… that still doesn’t really relate to Leo’s thing at all—?”

“It does relate,” Draxum insisted hotly. “Listen: No one knows how extensive mutations are better than me—”

“The people you’ve mutated probably have an idea of it,” Dad grumbled, seeming more and more done as the discussion went on.

“—y-yeah, well, this isn’t about them right now. Anyway, the point is, if empyrean could do something as drastic as undoing a mutation, who’s to say that – with the right tweaking – it couldn’t separate an alien parasite from its host?”

Silence again, but this one had distinctly more “dawning awe” than the last one. Because… yeah, that sounded actually pretty solid, when he put it that way…

(Unable to stop himself, practically without thinking about it, Leo glanced at Krang. He was wearing that same unreadable expression he’d had back when he’d been told what had happened to the smallest member of his crew.)

“…huh.”

Everyone turned, looking over to Lieutenant and Brute. Lieutenant was clasping his hands just beneath his chin, his index fingers pointing upwards and pressed against his lips, thoughts clearly percolating. Brute looked absolutely gobsmacked. It occurred to Leo all of a sudden that they hadn’t said a peep since Lieutenant and directed the conversation towards their cookies.

“Oh, what?” Draxum asked, the proud puff of his chest deflating exasperatedly. “Are you going to try to argue that this won’t work somehow?”

The pair glanced at each other, then back to the group.

“No, actually,” Lieutenant said, bringing his hands down. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“The thing we’d come over to suggest you try was actually… also empyrean,” Brute explained, still looking surprised. “So… funny how that worked out, huh? Must mean we’re on the right track if we all thought of it separately, right?”

“Wait,” Draxum said, confusion at being validated rather than contradicted replacing his indignation. “How is it you two came to the conclusion to use empyrean?”

Lieutenant scoffed. “Our clan has been ‘using’ empyrean for various rituals for centuries.”

“Yeah, part of the process of becoming a recognized leader of the Foot is to drink some of the stuff,” Brute said. He gestured at the flames burning harmlessly atop his head. “You didn’t think these were natural, didja?”

Casey looked like her world had just been rocked, muttering, “The stuff used in the ancient rites was empyrean?” Then, “Why?”

“Eh, symbolism, mostly,” Lieutenant replied. “To mimic the ancient warriors of old. According to the legends of our clan, after the first mystic warriors banished the Krang—” (the flick of the eyes to nervously glance at Krang was not lost on Leo, even if he moved on from it quickly), “some of the clan members were ‘transformed.’ Details on what they were transformed into are a little shaky, but after that point it became tradition for the clan leaders to go on a sacred journey to be ‘transformed’ themselves. They used empyrean to do this.”

“Yeah, and that’s why he can do stuff like open portals make origami soldiers, and why I’m so…” Brute gestured slightly above his own head, indicating something big. “Wouldja believe I was actually used to be shorter than him?”

He coughed suddenly. “That’s also how we knew that the Shredder needed empyrean to, uh…” A glance at Dad. “Y’know.” Then, “Sorry about that, it wasn’t personal or anything.”

Dad grunted.

“Right… yeah. Anyway, our clan had been messing with the stuff for generations by that point, so we know that it can do… a lot.” Brute tilted his head. “Never heard of it being used to ‘unmutate’ anyone before, though…”

Draxum, meanwhile, looked like he was going to have an aneurysm. “Your clan,” he began slowly, deliberately, “has been sneaking over to one of yokai-kind’s most sacred sites, stealing one of our rarest compounds, for ‘generations’?!”

“…yep, pretty much!”

“The reason why we settled on suggesting you use it for this,” Lieutenant went on, skating over the interruption and gesturing at Leo, “is because when we were combing over our history scrolls, we found that – apparently – empyrean first came about after the Foot fought the Krang. Or, at least, that’s when the Foot first discovered it – the remains of the kami who’d given the mystic warriors the power to imprison the Krang is where the empyrean now stems from.”

“Right,” Brute agreed. “So we thought… y’know, maybe it’s connected—?”

“WHAT?!”

Everyone’s heads snapped back to Draxum, who was staring at the Foots disbelievingly. “The being that empyrean flows from is that of the last Titan – what do you mean that was the ‘kami’ who’d helped imprison the Krang?!”

The Foots were now mirroring Draxum’s incredulous expression.

“I mean… I don’t know what to tell you,” Lieutenant said. “That’s just what it says in our scrolls.”

(Krang’s tentacles had been slowly tensing around Leo’s shoulder throughout the whole conversation. They were now gripping it so tightly it was all Leo could do not to flinch. Before he could comment on it and tell him to let go, or at least ease up a little, his grip abruptly went slack as he apparently remembered himself. His face still bore no discernable expression.)

“Wait— hold up,” April said, glancing between Draxum and the Foots. “That can’t be right… the titan— the kami— whatever’s leaking green goo is just outside the Hidden City, which is under New York. Wouldn’t the thing that fought the Krang be over in Japan?”

Draxum blinked, pausing his feelings of scandal to give her a confused look. “Who told you the Hidden City was under New York?”

April blinked back. “I mean, I just— I just figured—”

“The Hidden City is not under New York,” Draxum said. “It’s not under Japan, either, or any human city, or anywhere on earth.” A pause, then he made a ‘more or less’ gesture with his hand. “Sort of.”

“‘Sort of’?” Raph repeated, tilting his head. “How’s that work?”

“It’s technically in an entirely different dimension, for starters,” Draxum said. “It’s in the realm originally inhabited by the Titans. The portals to and from New York are just weak-spots in the veil of reality between the two sides.”

Another short pause as everyone absorbed the information, and then Donnie clarified, “We’ve been traveling to a different dimension this whole time?”

Draxum nodded. “The Titans originated within the realm in which most modern-day yokai now reside. Because of their intense power, they were able to cross over to other dimensions at will, and took a particular liking to the one inhabited by humans. The layers of reality that separate the human realm from the Hidden City are no different than the ones separating it from the Twilight Realm or the prison dimension, there’s just less of them.

“The second generation of yokai that the Titans created, conversely, lived almost exclusively within the realm they’d been born in. By the third generation, unfortunately, humans were becoming increasingly hostile towards yokai, so they had to retreat back to their predecessors’ place of origin. Not that they realized that was what they had done, at first. Like all of you, they assumed they had just… dug far enough into the ground that they could hide there. They hadn’t realized they’d accidentally unearthed a portal and broke clean through to a different dimension.”

A stormy look was thrown at Lieutenant and Brute here. “The fact that humans were apparently still popping up to steal their resources probably hadn’t made the distinction any easier to make, granted… I knew that would be an issue. I told those fools on the council that humans crossing over to the Hidden City could be a problem, I knew simply hiding wouldn’t be enough—”

He took a breath, composing himself. “You can either find an existing portal to the Hidden City or make one. But while anyone can pass through the portals, only yokai can really pick up where they are at any given moment. The mystic energy yokai naturally exude acts as both a cloaking method for areas where large numbers of us reside, and a subconscious deterrent against others proceeding towards it. Unless a human physically witnesses someone use the portal, they won’t know it’s there. Unless they have an active reason to go through it, they won’t, even if they do know it’s there.”

Leo was nodding along, about to say something to the effect of “yeah, that tracks,” when Barry said, “It’s a bit like what’s going on with your ‘lair,’ honestly.”

…seriously, he kept dropping facts like this like they made absolute sense, and then not bothering to elaborate. He was doing it on purpose at this point.

“Say what now?” Leo asked, just a little annoyed.

Draxum gave him a deadpan look. “You’re living in one of the most densely populated cities in the world, inhabited by the nosiest creatures to ever breathe, and yet no one has ever stumbled upon your living situation. Did none of you ever question why? No city maintenance workers over the years? Not a single homeless person? Not even after you relocated to abandoned subway tunnel, which is decidedly easier to access and infinitely more inviting to the average human than a sewer?”

A beat as he gave them a chance to defend themselves, wherein they all instead mostly just glanced at each other sheepishly. When no one spoke up, he finished, “Your little hovel is inhabited entirely by yokai. While it pales in comparison to what a group the size of the Hidden City can accomplish, your combined mystic energy has been enough to cloak your home from the humans.”

Raph’s brow was furrowed as he mulled this over. “How did we— like, ‘cloak’ ourselves without knowing we were doing it, though?”

“Well, you see—”

“Hows ’bout we save that explanation for another time,” Leo interrupted, “and stick to stuff that’s connected to why everyone came to visit, sound good? We’ve been getting way off-track and the chapter’s long enough, let’s wrap it up. The bottom-line that I’m getting from all this is that we need some empyrean, yeah?”

Draxum, Lieutenant, and Brute all nodded.

“Cool, awesome – everyone’s done eating, right? Gimme a sec, I’ll go get my swords, and then I’ll portal us all down to—”

“No need, bro,” Mikey said, rising to his feet and flexing his fingers, “I got this one.”

And yeah. He sure did. A few seconds later and there was a portal ready and waiting. The titan-kami-whatever could be seen in the distance just beyond it. No weapon needed, just Mikey’s magical mystic hands.

Leo gave Mikey a smile, told him “nice one!” and listened to everyone else cheer him on as they all stood to move towards the portal.

He swallowed, suddenly feeling like a rock had dropped into his stomach. He probably shouldn’t have eaten so much…

Notes:

Please please please tell me I’m not the only one who has to frequently stop and remind themself that the brothers are supposed to be teenagers when consuming most TMNT media. Literally the only series in the franchise that I haven’t had to do this with (that I’ve seen so far) is Mutant Mayhem. That is the only one in the lineup that captures the feeling of “ACTUAL TEENS” in the boys, and not “hello, fellow kids!” –written by adults. (In my opinion, at least.)

Anyway yeah, decided to turn this feeling into a headcanon, and then justify it with some yokai lore. The basis of which is actually partially inspired by Mutant Mayhem, since I brought it up. Something similar to the yokai-aging-process I described has to be going on there too. AT LEAST with Superfly’s crew. SF was only a toddler when the ooze got dumped down the drain, so shouldn’t he reasonably only be MAYBE a couple years older than the boys themselves? And therefore only a teenager himself? NOT what I get the feeling was supposed to be interpreted as a grownass adult?? (To say nothing of Scumbug’s whole thing, especially considering she ought to be younger than Superfly… I’m rambling now, forgive me.)

That said, I acknowledge that Rise has moments where they reach for more teenagerly behaviors in the boys (most of the emotional scenes, specifically), hence why Draxum only specifies that they were “physically and mentally” the ages Lieutenant and Brute thought they were. Emotional intelligence can really only be gained through life experience, which can only be gained through years actually lived.

Final thing, but the reason Splintz was so adamant that none of the boys drink (specifically Raph): I went back and forth on this, considering the legal drinking age in Japan is 20 years old. Which, culturally (and considering this was established in the 70s), 20 would've been the age he likely would've considered to be "okay" to drink at. Yeah, they're all in America now, but considering their whole situation there was probably a pretty low risk of any authorities finding out. But then I thought: This guy was a former movie star who had a whole bit about how he had a "really very good time." Look me in the eye and tell me he hasn't tried all the party drugs. Splinter isn't always the best dad, but he tries when it counts, and I could see him specifically wanting to make sure his sons didn't follow in his footsteps in regards to substance intake in the name of "fun." Hence: "My boys cannot drink tequila." (Still rambling here, Jesus Christ—)

Chapter 11: Feels Weird, Emotionally-Speaking

Notes:

I’ve been watching my niece a lot more lately, so pretty much all of this chapter was written in spurts during naptime. Hopefully the final product isn't too disjointed as a result.

The Battle Nexus had been doing a mite… poorly, as of late.

Oh, to heelipop with it – it was hanging on by a thread.

Big Mama leaned back in her seat, stretching her back. It was starting to cramp, as it usually did when she spent too much time in this wretched rolling thing. She missed her old seat. She missed perching on an extremely plush and comfortable chair that had been upholstered with luxurious leather. Her back had never cramped up in that.

She missed her old office in general, honestly. She missed her old desk, hand-carved from the human world’s finest mahogany. She missed a floor covered in gorgeous imported rugs. She missed the richly decorated walls, and the warm, striking light of the lamps around her. She missed the window at her back that let her survey what was effectively her kingdom.

This chair and desk had been bought from a department store in flat boxes, and had required assembly. The walls around her were beige and bare, and the floor was a tacky linoleum. The lights above her head were fluorescent bars that provided the most unflattering illumination she had ever endured. There were no windows.

It was enough to drive her to absolute despair.

The empire she had worked all her life to build had crumbled beneath her feet when that horrid, loathsome, UN-LADYLIKE poodle-poo had stolen Shadow Fiend from her. And that was hardly even a metaphor – her Grand Nexus Hotel had literally crumbled beneath her. She’d been left grievously injured. In fact, she didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say she’d been a hair’s breadth from death.

And yet, in a testament to her resiliency, even with her life hanging in the balance she’d still found the strength to give the wretched turtly-boos information on where to find empyrean. All for Lou’s sake.

Had he ever come down to thank her for it? Apologized for the diva-fit he’d thrown when he’d “sworn off fighting” and refused to fulfill his role as Battle Nexus Champion? Or for when he’d run off without so much as a “it’s not you, it’s me” parting message? One would think he’d at least try to make amends by, say, offering to be her Battle Nexus Champion again now. Especially considering she’d not only provided information to save his life, but since it was also partly his “sons” fault that she’d lost her present champion…

Honestly, if she’d known her kindness was going to be so woefully ignored, she wouldn’t have extended it in the first place. She blamed her lack of forethought on the fact that she’d been bedridden with her injuries. Her mind had been completely scrimdaddled by that point.

Lou’s callousness had unfortunately only been the start of the upcoming horrors. When her Nexus Hotel (again, literally) collapsed, 75% of her income collapsed with it. The Battle Nexus was the money-maker when it was doing well, but the public was fickle. If the battles weren’t bloody enough, if the current champion wasn’t charismatic enough, or any other number of things, they’d lose interest. As such, the hotel – which had served both yokai and humans, and was able to ratchet up prices due to being in a tourist mecca (for humans) and offering the novelty of “seeing the human world up close!” (for yokai) – had been responsible for most of the stable income. Losing it cut her revenue to less than half of what it had once been.

Because of this, her staff (or at least the slobs that had survived the hotel’s downfall) abandoned her en masse. Something about “not being able to work without getting paid.” Pocket-picking, opportunistic traitors, the lot of them. Only one of her original attendants remained (although that was to be expected, considering). Not that said attendant was doing much attending at the moment – she was currently acting as the Battle Nexus’s champion until Big Mama could find a more dynamic headliner.

Because her staff left her, it meant she no longer had the necessary enforcers to intimidate smallfry into paying her percentages of all their scores. Because her funds had taken an all-around rollicking, she couldn’t bribe the authorities to continue looking the other way in regards to some of her more… off-color business dealings.

Originally, the bribery had only been required after she’d openly brought a human to the Hidden City “against his will.” They’d never been able to make any of their other claims towards her stick, you see. She’d made sure of that. Lou, conversely, had been a bit harder to hide than her usual little bouts of naughtiness, not that it had ultimately mattered. After greasing a few palms and establishing the alibi that Lou could technically come and go as he pleased (i.e. she allowed him heavily-supervised walks around the city), she was mostly left alone about it. And anyway, she certainly wasn’t “holding him against his will” anymore (what a complete load of tosh), so it wasn’t as though they had any further reason to harass her over it.

No, the most recent issue was that the Council of Heads apparently hadn’t appreciated her Battle Nexus: New York –wizbang. She suspected the only thing that kept her from replacing Draxum as the Hidden City’s Most Wanted was that she’d been very careful in assuring that no humans would get hurt in the process. All the same, the Heads were still in a bit of a tizzy-tuzzle over it. She hadn’t anticipated not having the necessary funds to get the Hidden City police off her back when she’d organized the event. Now, because she’d lost all her funds – both incoming and what she’d hoarded away in her safe for a rainy day – there was a warrant out for her arrest.

Big Mama’s lip wobbled. Was this to be how she went out, then? A wanted woman, renting out a dump of an office that was just barely still within New York’s limits, with precious little employees and no prospects? With her illustrious Battle Nexus rendered little more than an underground fight club? Literally underground, even – it had to be held in the office building’s basement. As far as she knew, the arena she’d originally had built for it now sat abandoned. Assuming the vultures on the council hadn’t already scooped it up and auctioned it off, anyway.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she fanned at them insistently as she stared up at the ceiling. None of that now, none of that. Crime lords didn’t cry after their faces were made.

…with generic, drugstore-brand makeup.

Big Mama wailed.

“…you, uh… you okay? B-boss?”

Her gaze snapped to her right, and experienced a millisecond of contentedness as it caused its recipients (two miniscule gargoyles) to flinch. It was quickly ruined by the sensation of cheap mascara running down her face.

“Do I— look ‘okay’ you wh-whizzy— little gnat?!” she demanded through sobs. Then, unable to stand the thought of how completely up-ended she must look, she barked, “Get me a tissue or something!”

The itty-goylies – “Hoon and Moog” or something like that, she was never able to keep them straight – skittered away to go find her one. They had been the only people she’d been able to afford after the rest of her employees had abandoned her. Their only effective selling-point when it came to getting hired had been that they split a salary.

A tissue box was practically thrown onto her desk, what rude little beasties— She pulled out two or three in quick succession, dabbing at her eyes and sniffling. She blew her nose (daintily, and not at all like a bugling trumpet), before crumpling them up into the cheap plastic wastebasket sitting by her desk.

She missed Gus, even if he was a heartless turncoat. She’d practically raised him from a pup. (One would have thought he’d have turned out better – go figure.) Having him around had been very therapeutic, all things considered. Whenever she was in a sour mood, all she’d have to do was give him a swift kick, and she’d feel just a bit better.

Kicking the sorry little goylie-whatsits just didn’t offer the same sort of relief. She’d tried, that was for certain, but for however much they’d yipped her foot always hurt afterwards. They weren’t soft like Gus. She’d taken to throwing things at them instead.

Big Mama took a deep breath. Not as steady as she would’ve liked, sadly; there was still a hiccup or two to be had. She let it out slowly, then instructed, “Get me my makeup bag and a mirror. I need to spiff up a bit.”

The goylies quickly scrambled to fetch her things, bumping into each other as they went. Her mouth creased further into its frown, her lip threatening to wobble again as a powerful bitterness washed over her. To think how far she’d fallen to get to this point. She was better than this.

…hm. She was better than this, wasn’t she? And yet what was she doing about it? Sitting around whimpering. Her darling Grandmummy would’ve been disgusted if she could see her now. She hadn’t raised some sodden-faced worm – she’d raised a spider. The goylies returned with her things, and she set about fixing herself up with new determination. She’d built herself up once, she’d do it again.

What she needed, she decided, wiping up the last of her mascara-laden tear-streaks, was a champion that could actually attract a crowd, rather than one that only acted as a mainstay to prevent the Battle Nexus from fading into obscurity. Presently, the only people who showed up to spectate were the ones looking for a cheap thrill to fill otherwise empty plans. She needed someone who people would make plans for. If she could get the Battle Nexus to turn a profit again, then it would just be a matter of properly managing finances. Everything would fall back into place after that.

True, she’d never be able to be as open about her business ventures as she had before, being wanted and all, but she could work around that. Having her misdeeds actively on display rather than hiding behind a veneer of decency might even work to her advantage. It would make intimidating lesser crooks much easier, to be sure – before she had to deal with them discretely, which limited her options. Now? Nothing was off the table, and they’d know that. And there was a sort of mystique about visiting a battle club run by a known criminal, wasn’t there? Might boost attendance if it seemed like something enticingly taboo.

Or perhaps she’d simply invent a new identity, resume bribing any police that tried to call out who she really was, and just return to business as usual. She wasn’t sure yet; it would all depend on how the pieces fell once she had the proper funds.

She just needed to find the perfect champion first.

She applied a few final delicate pats of blush to her cheeks, then fluttered her eyelashes at her reflection. There, that was a bit better. There was only so much she could do with lackluster products like this, but all things considered her worst was still several notches above most others’ best. She took another slow breath (much more evenly this time, thank goodness), and turned back to look at the ittsy goylies.

“You two,” she addressed, ignoring their flinch this time, “go out, scout the Hidden City, New York, every little bitty nickety-nook and cranny you can squeeze into, and find me a new champion. Someone more bloodthirsty and vicious than Shadow Fiend, more charismatic than Lou Jitsu. Someone dramatic. Someone who can whip a crowd into an absolute frenzy. Bring them straight back to me once you do.”

They glanced at each other nervously, then back to her. The less-round of the pair looked ready to say something, but a quick shriek of “Now!!” got them hauling wing out her door.

“How are we supposed to bring back someone more bloodthirsty than her last guy??” she heard one of them mutter to the other as they left. “That guy was a tank!”

“The power of persuasion…?” the other suggested weakly back.

…Big Mama couldn’t say she was feeling especially confident about the goylies’ chance of success. Perhaps if they failed she could host a “training day” of sorts in the Battle Nexus. People could come and beat the shnizz-shnot out of the goylies, thus allowing her remaining attendant some time off to scour the cities in their stead.

Big Mama sighed.

---

It was Krang’s dearest wish to bury his face into something and scream.

Did he think this “empyrean” garbage was going to do what his host’s allies hoped it would? No, not remotely. Once a Krang and their host were connected, they were both in it for the long haul. One way or another, for better or worse, no exceptions. The most he saw coming out of this venture was having to deal with the pest’s crushing disappointment when it inevitably fell apart. Which he was emphatically not looking forward to, but at least he’d be allotted a moment of “I told you so” in there somewhere.

Was he offended that the assorted peons surrounding him refused to take his word for it? Despite unquestionably being the most informed party present? Obviously, but the sad fact of the matter was that he was becoming increasingly used to it. His enemies refused to believe a single word out of his mouth. Whether out of pure mistrust, or an overinflated belief they could force things to be how they wanted if they just tried hard enough was anyone’s guess. Either way, he was rapidly losing the energy it took to be more than exasperated about it, or really press his point much at all.

So why, then, when it all added up to little more than a million tiny annoyances, did he still feel so nonsensically… twitchy about it?

“Twitchy” wasn’t perhaps the most accurate description, mind. He was as outwardly composed as he ever was. It was more like he had too much energy, and nothing to expend it on. It felt as though there was some looming danger waiting just beyond the horizon, and he was bracing to engage it. He’d felt something similar during the first few assimilations he’d participated in, but back then there’d been a reason for it. He hadn’t known what to expect from the situation, which had resulted in heightened awareness. And even then, it had never been this bad…

It wasn't connected to his host in anyway, whatever it was. Did it have something to do with returning here of all places? Bad memories or something, making him superfluously irritable? That must be it…

The battlefield his host had stepped onto (well, former battlefield, technically) was as he remembered it, more or less. Glancing around, Krang could see mammoth weapons strewn about the far distance. The group presently stood in the palm of a discarded mechsuit, if he wasn’t too far off the mark. A gigantic stone figure knelt in front of them, clutching its face.

He’d fought this same creature a millennia ago. He remembered its sudden, earth-shaking roars as it was overcome with agony, grabbing at its face, and likewise remembered the exhilaration he’d felt at the sight of tentacles bursting forth from its chest. A Krang – or more likely, several Krang, given the size of the thing – was working to assimilate it. Soon it would exist to fight for them, they could sic it on their enemies and turn what had become a befuddlingly equal-footed battle into a victory for the mighty Krang—

And then it had fallen to its knees, in exactly the same position it was now, screamed again, and a pulse of mystic energy rushed from it. Krang himself had been nearly bowled over by it (he’d needed to catch his brother, who’d been sent flying). When he’d looked back up, it was to see it rapidly calcifying into what stood before him today.

At the time it had seemed like a serviceable enough turn of events. True, it hadn’t ended in a new warrior they could use to aid their cause, but it was one less enemy to deal with. Shortly thereafter, however, the humans forged the method to their undoing. After centuries, Krang now came to learn the two incidents were connected.

As he looked up at it, Krang felt his expression twist, and his inner-twitchiness bowed aside for something hotter and infinitely darker. Hate was a sensation he had a name for, and he had one-thousand years’ worth of reasons for feeling it.

He blamed the Krang’s imprisonment more on faulty intelligence over the actual prowess of their foes, for what it was worth. A scouting party of three (if he was remembering right) had been sent out to first ascertain if the planet and its populace were suitable for assimilation. Krang himself hadn’t been part of that particular group; none of his siblings had. Scouting positions were for Krang who were either a. Too young to have properly proven their strength yet, or b. Older Krang who were too weak to be of any proper use elsewhere, but not weak enough as to warrant termination. Neither Krang, his sister, nor his brother had fallen into either of those categories, rather obviously.

The scouting party had given the go-ahead to start the assimilation process, affirming that the “humans” oughtn’t pose any sort of issue. And indeed, at first, they hadn’t. But it would have nonetheless been advantageous to know they had gargantuan, dimension-hopping allies apparently waiting at the ready to aid them.

(He didn’t know what had happened to those three afterwards, whether they’d been slain on the battlefield or perished in the prison dimension. He hoped it had hurt, whichever it had been.)

The news that earth and this place were different dimensions hadn’t exactly come as a surprise, per se, even if Krang hadn’t explicitly put it together. Intertwined dimensions were nothing new, after all. At least not to the Krang they weren’t – they’d historically encountered several during their crusade across the galaxy. It was atypical, yes, but not especially remarkable either. Honestly, he was more taken aback by how astounded the others had been to learn this. Evidently, despite living on this planet all their lives, they’d never fathomed such a thing could happen.

But then, this was an un-advanced, un-assimilated species he was talking about, so perhaps it counted as more of a “shame on him” for not anticipating this.

“Did the empyrean dry up?” asked the orang— ugh. Asked Michael. Krang still maintained that none of these peoples’ designations were worth his memory, but overexposure meant he was regrettably learning them anyway. 

(Sort of. They each had at least a dozen different names they went by. Trying to discern the root-name for each was undeservedly complicated.)

Michael stared up at the massive… kami, titan, whatever, and pointed at its face. “Wasn’t it leaking from the eye before?”

“The council has since repaired the protective shield that the Shredder destroyed,” the ungulate (either Dracksum or Berry) declared, before throwing a look back at the two traitors. “But then, since you two have been stealing it all this time, I expect you have a means around that?”

He was met with an eyeroll and a purposeful, upwards gesture from the rasp (no clue what his designation was, he wasn’t around often enough). A fizzling noise sounded somewhere above their heads. Looking up, sparks could be seen around the eye the kami-titan didn’t have its palm pressed to.

“If you knew where the empyrean was the whole time, and were always able to get at it,” the loudmouth (K.C.?) began slowly, “why didn’t you tell the Shredder about it, back when he’d been looking for it? I mean, you were the ones who’d told him it existed…”

“Because,” the rasp said, sounding very strained all of a sudden, and looking over he did seem to be exerting himself, “this isn’t exactly easy.”

“Yeah, takes a lotta focus and effort to break through the barrier they set up,” the large one agreed. “And he—” a gesture at… Krang decided to go with Berry, “—said he had some ready to go, so why go to the trouble?” A brow was raised at Berry. “How’d you get your empyrean back before if you weren’t doing something like this?” A beat. “…I’m assuming you didn’t do anything like this. Since you’re not doing it now. Did you do something like this?”

A huff. “No, but I have connections.” Then, bitterly, “Or at least I did…”

The rasp gave final grunt, there was one last shower of sparks, and then a green, luminescent trail of liquid began leaking down from the eye. The aforementioned “empyrean,” Krang supposed. It reminded him eerily of blood.

“That’ll only last a minute,” the rasp said, sounding just slightly winded. “Collect what you need for your ‘tweaking,’ whatever that entails, and let’s go.”

“I have beakers you can use,” Donaldtello volunteered, moving forward. Metal appendages extended out from the armor he bedecked himself with, each holding a glass vial of varying sizes.

“Aaaand you just… always have these on hand?” Krang’s host asked, watching Donaldtello pass Berry one of the vials.

“Of course.”

“M’kay… why?”

“Uh, in case I need them, ’Nardo? Like right now, for instance? Which by the way, you’re welcome, everyone, for sparing us having to run back home to grab something before the shield closed again. Or from needing to bring the shield down a second time because we had to go back to get something. Please don’t try to give me your accolades all at once.”

His host rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at his brother’s deadpan theatrics, and Krang only barely refrained from throwing him a dark look. He was doing it again. His outwardly showy, uncaringly flippant behavior was at odds with his inward emotions, again.

Five minutes. Krang had thought he’d be granted five minutes without having that rolling, heavy feeling sitting on his chest, but no. Not twenty seconds after it was decided the group would come here, and it was back again. How much micromanaging did it take to keep this insufferable little pest on his feet—??

—regardless. Regardless. He could take comfort that his attempts to even out his host’s mood weren’t completely in vain, even if their effects were woefully short-lived. Not only had the pest’s mood lifted just slightly this morning, but his behavior was already becoming less overtly disrespectful. He’d shared some of his food with him (which had been… adequate, Krang had enjoyed it a normal amount and no more), and his tone had been decidedly less vitriolic as he’d done so. He was letting his guard down, exactly as Krang had planned. Had he’d known it was possible to accomplish all that at once, he’d have implemented this strategy sooner.

…or perhaps not, considering what said strategy actually entailed.

He cast a scornful (if subtle) glance across the group. He supposed it would be pragmatic to draw from his nonsensical jitteriness, since he was stuck with it… It would certainly serve to make him appear less threatening…

His stomach churned as he was smacked with the intense desire to instead duck back into his host’s shell, and stay there for the rest of the week. Doing this for the second time in twenty-four hours was probably overkill, on second thought. He didn’t want to push this narrative too hard – it might reveal him to be disingenuous. And anyway he’d suffered enough for one day, surely—

You’ll regret not seizing this opportunity while you have it, he chided himself. You’ll barely have to act at all, or think up any kind of story. The alternative is sitting in this loathsome mood until it either passes, or you once again talk the twit into letting you do damage control. Which, considering how mortifying THIS course of ‘damage control’ is…

When he still couldn’t act, he finally soothed himself, You’ll leave no witnesses by the time this ordeal is over, so it doesn’t rightfully matter WHAT you say or do in front of them…

Krang steeled himself, already sick with humiliation and angry about it, and hunkered down a bit, pressing himself needily into his host’s neck. His host tensed, and Krang felt him shift from surprise to confusion to understanding to exasperation then back to confusion in record time.

It was both a blessing that one of the others commented first (he would’ve had to somehow escalate things more if only his host noticed and didn’t call proper attention to it; they needed several people to be aware of it for this to work) and a curse (he didn’t especially want any of the others to comment on this, even if that was the entire point). Michael, somewhere to their right, asked, “You guys… uh, good?”

His host turned to look at his brother, which meant Krang ended up looking at him too. He appeared monstrously perplexed, and ever so slightly uncomfortable, but seemed to be grasping for politeness. “Is this another ‘instinct’ thing?”

Everyone was turning to look at them now, so Krang took the opportunity to jerk away from his host, as though he’d only just realized what he’d been doing.

“No. Yes. Nothing! It’s nothing! Do you have nothing better to do than gawk at me endlessly?!”

The group didn’t look especially convinced by his outburst, but then, Krang had anticipated this. Counted on it, even. If they’d had the capacity to mind their own business or take him at his word, the interaction would’ve stopped there, wouldn’t it? They threw brief looks at each other, then exchanged sympathetic and mutually unimpressed looks with his host. The shroud hanging above his head lifted somewhat in the face of their pathetic comradery. So far so good, detestable as it was.

…more or less. The rat demanded, “What’s this about ‘instincts’?” while throwing Krang an openly hostile look. While Raphael took him aside and – judging by his expression, rather scathingly – explained things to him, Michael gently asked, “Are you okay?” while looking directly at Krang.

A note: Krang did not like Michael. He was probably his least favorite of his host’s associates, second only to his host himself. The smug look he’d worn as he’d closed the portal and condemned Krang to… however long he’d sat in the prison dimension the second time, was permanently branded on the backs of Krang’s eyelids. The patronizing “compassion” he was now subjecting him to only served to make him more dislikable. 

Fighting the reflex to snarl he was fine, and how dare the sniveling weakling imply otherwise, much less with that tone, Krang huffed and looked away.

“I dislike this place,” he said, letting the horrid energy that was still buzzing within him manifest into an irritated ringing motion of his foremost tentacles. “Being here calls back memories that aren’t expressly pleasant…”

A(n uncomfortable, for Krang at least) pause, and then Michael asked, “So then you were here when—?”

“Yes,” Krang cut in. “And the Krang were imprisoned shortly thereafter.”

Take in the spectacle I’m making of myself and distribute your judgement silently, if you don’t mind, he added internally, the vitriol he couldn’t release prickling his tongue. I don’t care to relive this moment with you idiots any more than I care for your detestable condescension—

Sentiments amongst the group ranged from unsympathetic to just plain awkward. (Save Michael, who looked pitying – Krang imagined hooking his tentacles into his corneas and popping his eyes right out of his orange-clad face to keep himself calm.)

“…right,” Berry said, wandering back over to the group, apparently having listened in from afar. The vials Donaldtello had given him were all full of the bloody, neon-green substance, and his expression was an equal mix of the two aforementioned sentiments. “Well, I have a decent amount to begin my research with, so unless anyone else has business here—” (he offered the two traitors a pointed, accusatory glare, both of whom groaned and replied with things like “we should’ve just called you people…”), “—then I’d recommend we all head back now.” He nodded at Michael. “If you would…”

Michael nodded back, and set to work opening another portal, which everyone began moving towards. The shroud over Krang’s host came back full force, darker and heavier than before.

His host took up the rear as they all filed back through the portal, so Krang allowed himself to slump down on his host’s shoulder, frustrated. Finding the second form of damage control in two days it was, then. And he’d made a fool of himself for nothing! Wasn’t that just grand…

His host held up his hand to him.

Krang stared at it a moment, then jerked his gaze over to his host’s face. He was staring dead ahead as he walked. His eyes flicked over to glance at Krang, before snapping forward again as soon as they made eye-contact.

He didn’t lower his hand.

Slowly, Krang took hold of it.

This wasn’t meant as a joke or an insult, which was the only thing stopping Krang from snarling at him. If it had been, his host wouldn’t have been able to contain his glee, however muted it ultimately was. And his host most definitely didn’t feel amused at present.

Granted, if he wasn’t trying to mock him, Krang couldn’t fathom what his actual rationale was. Was he trying to build off what Krang had started, and further diminish his apparent threat level to his brothers? He’d better not be. The thought of the pest intentionally humiliating him for his own gain made Krang practically combust, never mind the fact that it had technically been his idea first. It was one thing if it was his choice; it was another thing entirely if it was something he was being forcibly subjected to—

It was his idea, though, however much his host tried to commandeer or repurpose it (if he was trying to commandeer it or repurpose it). It was in his own interest to keep hold of his host’s hand just as much as it had been to press against his neck. If it helped, it helped. There was no use complaining about it. He had to stay focused on his end-goal, and do his best to ignore what happened in the interim.

…it still left a bad taste in his mouth, regardless. He imagined constricting his tentacles until all the bones in the appendage had snapped. Until all that remained was a bloody pulp. It was incredibly disheartening to realize the thought didn’t have the same calming effect that imagining his brother without eyes had possessed. Hours upon hours (upon days upon months upon years) of imagining his host dying brutal deaths must have desensitized him to feeling much towards the concept. What a pity.

(The weird energy that had settled in his core eased a bit, at least. It was likely just because they were leaving the battlefield. He kept firm hold of his host’s hand as they passed through the portal. For appearances.)

---

Sooo… that had been awkward.

Leo fell sideways onto his bed. Krang, still sitting on his shoulder, grunted at the less than graceful landing, and sent him an annoyed look as they slowly stopped bouncing from the fall. He’d gone a whole day without antisocially hiding in his shell! If Leo had been in a more joke-friendly mood, he might’ve congratulated him on the strides he’d made in personal growth.

The fact that those strides had come at the cost of him being a lot more touchy-feely was something Leo could’ve done without, granted. Not that he could ever really comment on that, especially not considering his recent contribution to the touchy-feelyness…

Was it ideal to have semi-willingly held hands with a gummy tentacle-monster? Big fat absolutely not. But like— Uno had seemed off, and not his usual, psychopathic, “kill everyone who can’t beat me in a 1v1” –kind of off. Like… real-person –off. Like something had been bothering him.

...possibly. Leo would be the first to admit he didn’t have actual, solid proof of this. He couldn’t feel Krang’s emotions like he apparently felt Leo’s (thank Pizza Supreme and Meat Lovers hanging high in the sky for that). But Leo was a very much a vibes-guy, and the vibes had been, ’ow you say, not good? Krang’d been gripping his shoulder just a bit too tight, and whenever Leo stole a glance at him he’d been either clenching his jaw or biting the inside of his cheek. His expression had been distant and distracted, so Leo wasn’t even sure he’d realized what he’d been doing. But Leo had, and it was all very un-Uno-like.

If it looked like an opportunity and it felt like an opportunity…

Going back to the “playing nice” –angle: Assuming the story about Krang taking hold of stuff for security wasn’t complete bunk, then sure, they could hold hands, why not? It’d definitely thrown Leo for a loop when Krang had first taken his hand; hopefully it would work in reverse.

Leo wasn’t sure if Krang ultimately accepting his hand to hold was a mark toward this or against it, or if it had been Krang attempting to uno (heheh, accidental but still hilarious pun)-reverse what he’d been trying to do. Hopefully it wasn’t that. Leo didn’t think it was that. …probably.

Whatever the case, he wasn’t sure if it had been the best move on his part, even if it did end up going the way he hoped it had. The whole thing felt… weird… emotionally speaking.

Not that his emotions had been exactly soaring up until that point, but…

Krang, opting to finally retract into Leo’s shell for the night, bluntly asked, “What was wrong with you earlier?”

(Oh, neat, he could read minds now. At least he’d waited until they’d separated from everyone, Leo supposed.)

After wrestling with how to respond for a second (if he even should respond), he eventually said, “Nothing you’d get.”

A huff. “Tell me anyway.”

“There’s no point—”

“Pest,” Krang cut in, so faux-polite it bordered on dangerous, “if you are genuinely going to make me do this every. Single time. You suffer a nonsensical emotional upheaval. After I’ve already proven I am better at creating active solutions to your moods than you are. I am going to start biting.” He didn’t come back out of his shell, but Leo could feel him tensing inside it. Presumably to spring out and make them both need stitches if he didn’t like the next answer he got. “Tell me what is wrong with you.”

Leo lay there and debated whether he could get away with faking sleep. Unloading onto Krang the night before had helped (as much as he hated to admit it)… And anyway, it wasn’t like Krang was going to stop nagging him until he told him something (and he would actually really prefer to not have to be on the receiving end of those chompers, yikes)…

But he didn’t want to talk about this. Not with Krang not with his dad not with his brothers not with anybody. Because this wasn’t situation-based like what he’d complained about before, this was personal. This was the sort of deep-seated junk that you should probably only discuss with someone who had at least three degrees, he was pretty sure.

“I’m waiting, Pest.”

Leo didn’t realize he’d brought his knees up to his chest until he felt his arms wrap around them. His throat felt tight and he was angry. He didn’t want to talk about this.

“Can you maybe take the fucking hint?” he snapped. He was distantly aware that his plan to “be nice” was rapidly dissolving in front of him, but he couldn’t really be bothered to care. “If I wanted to talk about this, don’t you think I would, y’know, do that? I’m not pushing your buttons to make you spill your guts – try paying the same kindness forward, maybe.”

Krang took in a breath that – if Leo had to guess – was the audial embodiment of someone’s last nerve getting scraped raw. Rather than come back with a tirade, though (which Leo would’ve preferred, honestly – would’ve gotten him out of the current conversation), he said, “Your mood was holding steady until the group ventured out to get the ‘empyrenon,’ or whatever it was called – did something about going to that place set you off?”

Leo didn’t answer.

“…was it because your brother inserted himself into a situation you were perfectly capable of handling on your own?”

Leo’s stomach churned. He curled tighter into a ball.

Another steadying, patience-propping breath in from Krang. “You’re… justified in being displeased with him. It’s more than reasonable to be put out by an idiot overstepping his bounds—”

“He’s not an idiot!” Leo bit out. “And he wasn’t— That’s not what— I’m not—”

“You are,” Krang cut in, “and if his insolence isn’t what caused this sick feeling, then what is? Don’t lie to me and tell me what I’m feeling is ‘nothing—’”

“We feel like shit because I’m stuck being me,” Leo snapped. 

There was a pause. Leo could practically taste Krang’s confusion. Realizing he’d begun to shake slightly, Leo began moving to actually get under his blankets instead of just laying on top of them. If he did something, anything, just a small little action, he’d calm down. He’d calm down.

“…explain,” Krang finally said once Leo had pulled the blankets up practically over his head.

Leo swallowed. “It’s… I’m—” He swallowed again, then growled, pressing his palms over his eyes, frustrated. “Portals are— were— my thing. Back when we first started doing mystic… stuff, that was sort of my specialty, and that’s still pretty much all I’m good for in that department. But, now, like… over the last couple years, Mikey learned how to do portals too. And honestly, he’s better at it. And if I were fucking normal, and didn’t try to make every stupid little thing about me, all the time, I— we— wouldn’t feel like this.”

An unsteady breath, in and out. “Soo yeah. We feel like this because I’m a glory-hound who can’t stand to see other people be better than him.” A beat, then he added, half-heartedly (which is half more heart than he ever would’ve expected to offer Krang), “Sorry, I guess.”

There was another pause. And then Leo yipped as a tentacle snapped at the back of his head.

“What the hell?!” Leo demanded, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you stupid?” Krang shot back, hissing a little in pain himself. “Are you demented? In what world is your brother better? It takes him several sustained seconds standing still to create one portal. When I fought you, you made several, on the fly, moving the entire time.” 

Leo blinked, hand still pressed to where he’d been hit. “I— um… I’m using my swords, though. Mikey can make portals just by focusing hard enough—”

“You all play pathetic little tricks and try to lay claim to abilities that aren’t innately yours, him included!” Krang retorted. He was crawling back out of Leo’s shell to argue his point, shoving aside the blankets Leo had been trying to cocoon into as he went. Leo only allowed the undoing of said cocoon because the alternative was them being cocooned together, which would’ve probably resulted in their faces being smushed against each other. To better prevent exactly that from happening, Leo rolled onto his shell so Krang was only beside his face, and not leaning on his cheek.

Krang went on, “Your brother wouldn’t be able to do half of what he does without his stupid— twirly-sticks,” (he rotated his front-most tentacles in irritated little circles here). “I sincerely doubt he’d be going around throwing buildings at people, anyway. Which, that in mind, my original point still stands: If he ever tried to open portals using his technique in a combat situation, he’d be picked off before he could even generate a spark. Had I been able, I could have taken him out a minimum of fifteen times in the span it took him to open the thing today.”

Krang gave him a hard look. “We fought, one on one. More than once. You kept up with me each time, even if was only because of your stupid toys. Your brother was dispatched the moment I got a clean shot at him, even with his weapons.” In a voice that stopped just short of snarling, he finished, “Pick something else to feed your masochistic self-degradation if you absolutely must indulge it. Implying that you aren’t infinitely more skilled than your brother implies that my skill is beneath someone who needs to stand completely still to accomplish one – that is singular – thing.”

Leo stared at him a moment, then looked up at the ceiling. He didn’t know what to say. The choking sense of inadequacy had eased. It made him uncomfortable.

“It’s still selfish of me to take Mikey just being helpful and turn it into something to get twisted over—”

“I fail to see how being displeased at perceived usurpation would make you a ‘glory hound,’” Krang scoffed. After a moment’s thought he amended, “Lack of accuracy towards this perception notwithstanding. That’s a more than reasonable thing to be annoyed by, particularly considering you weren’t disruptive over it. Troublesome egos aren’t quiet, Pest – they demand to be fed at all hours, and if attention is ever negatively called to them they rear up and bare their teeth.”

(‘Well, you would know,’ intoned a voice in the back of Leo’s head. For once, he shoved it to the bottom of his thoughts and told it to shut up.)

Krang went on, none the wiser, “At any rate, if you have such an excess of self-importance, then why does the mere thought of it make you feel so rotten?”

…why was Krang – the guy who’d tried to violently beat him to death, the guy who’d led the charge to basically destroy the world – actually decent at turning down the volume of Leo’s internal monologue? Out of Leo’s entire family, why was this guy the one to say “I actually think you’re strong and capable” and then squeegee away Leo’s lingering guilt over wanting that?

Was Krang really just doing damage control for their combined emotional state, no ulterior motives? Was Leo okay with it if that was really the case?

Leo stared at the ceiling for another second, trying to process all the new feelings now swirling around his head. Then he gave up, sighed, and pushed off his blankets, sitting up. “I need some dopamine.”

“Dope-a-what?”

“The chemical in your brain that makes you happy,” he explained, walking across the room to the ancient, second-hand VCR he’d claimed to watch the Jupiter Jims they’d never managed to find on DVD. “Or I mean, the chemical in my brain… can Krang feel happy when you’re not… like, destroying stuff?”

He slotted a VHS into the player (the first Last Trip to the Moon sequel: Going Back, One More Time!) and returned to his bed. “Oh, also, do me this one solid if nothing else ever in your life: Don’t let Donnie know I know what that is. If he ever figures out I actually do learn stuff from all his science-nerd-talk, even if it’s literally against my will, he’s only gonna get worse about it.”

Krang hummed noncommittally as Leo re-bundled himself under his blankets. As he fished the required remotes up from where they lay half under his bed on the floor, he asked, “What does your media box have to do with your ‘happy chemical’?”

“Helps me make it,” Leo said, hitting play.

Krang was positioned behind his head now, but he could still feel him making a face that suggested he was on the verge of losing his patience. “Do you mean to tell me you’ve had the ability to emotionally correct yourself this entire time, and you just… didn’t?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Pssh. I wish. You have to be in the right mindset for it or it won’t work, and I… haven’t been.”

“What.”

Leo gestured with the VCR remote like he could form the words he needed out of the air. “Like… say you’re really in the mood to, um… chew ice? Sure, we’ll go with that— you’d have to wait for the water to freeze first, because you can’t chew water—”

“How often do you feel compelled to chew ICE?” Krang asked, genuinely, palpably confused.

“It was a metaphor!”

“A very lousy one,” Krang insisted.

“Did it get the point across?” Leo pressed. “Do you get what I was trying to say?”

A beat, and then Krang grumbled indistinctly.

“That’s what I thought,” Leo said triumphantly. “Good metaphor.”

“…am I to infer, then, that since you’re watching… this, that you’re presently ‘in the right mindset’ to produce the— the…”

“Dopamine?”

Krang grunted affirmatively.

“…yeah. Guess so.”

“…hm.” Leo felt Krang retract back into his shell again. “I will be referencing this the next time you choose to be difficult when I instruct you to tell me what’s the matter, I hope you realize. I refuse to accept any further insolence on your part after this.”

Leo rolled his eyes again, but realized halfway through to completion that he didn’t really mean it. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the Jupiter Jim theme faded out over the last of the opening credits, Leo heard a quiet, “You’d better,” and then nothing more.

Notes:

Krang don’t have a word for “anxiousness,” as it turns out. Logically Uno's like "yeah there's nothing to worry about," but the thought of how bad things might go if the Hamatos' plan works is subconsciously eating him alive. So THAT'S fun for him, I'm sure!

Also I know there’s like a tweet from one of the show’s writers explaining the Krang’s connection to the Crying Titan, but, respectfully, I found the explanation boring. And anyway it wasn’t explained in the show proper, so technically its canoninity is just as dubious as any other unused concept. So heads up everybody, I’m going another way with it. ...eventually. We'll get there.

Chapter 12: Having Someone Around

Leo was back in the prison dimension, floating through the nothing, completely alone. He heard things, sometimes, but he couldn’t fool himself into thinking they were anything more than his mind playing tricks on him. Not that he wouldn’t still catch himself jerking his head in the direction of the imaginary sounds, pathetically hoping to see someone. He never did. So he'd stare at dark, looming figures in the distance, and he'd know down to the bottom of his heart that this was it. There was no getting out this time. No one was coming for him. Not his brother, not his sister, no one.

It was enough to make him want to just—

Leo’s eyes snapped open. He was staring at the bluescreen of his TV – Going Back, One More Time! must’ve ended sometime after he’d fallen asleep. His heart was pounding.

And his parasite was scrambling frantically to get out of his shell.

“What was that?!” Krang demanded roughly, clawing his way onto Leo’s shoulder and yanking his head around to look him in the eye. Leo was shocked to realize he sounded legitimately panicked. “How were we back in the prison dimension?! Why?! Can you teleport all the way there without a key now?! Is this your idea of a joke, Pest?! Are you trying to show off?! You’ve got a lot of fucking gall to pull that sort of stunt if that’s the case, how fucking dare you—!!”

“Whoawhoawhoawhoa BREATHE, dude!” Leo said, pulling his face out of Krang’s tentacles and pushing himself into a sitting position. “No, I can’t teleport all the way to the prison dimension, can you even hear yourself? Even if I could, I wouldn’t. Place doesn’t exactly hold a lotta happy memories for me.” He rubbed his face tiredly, trying to mind-over-matter his heart into slowing down. “We weren’t in the prison dimension, alright? It was just a bad dream.”

“That’s not possible,” Krang snapped. He was glaring like he was trying to drill a hole into Leo’s forehead with his eyes. “Krang don’t have dreams.”

(Hm. Well, that would explain why he’d woken up convinced they’d actually been in the prison dimension…)

Leo huffed a little, unimpressed. “Yeah, well, I do. It must be another thing you get a front row seat to thanks to our connection. Sorry about—”

…wait.

The dream Leo (and, apparently, Uno) had just experienced was almost identical to the dreams he’d been having before Krang had revealed himself. The dreams had stopped shortly afterwards – Leo had sorta figured they’d been his subconscious trying to warn him something was up, or whatever had eventually sent in Gram-Gram. (Maybe it’d even been Gram-Gram herself from the beyond. That was a weirdly nice thought.)

But here’s the thing… in the dream, Leo had thought about his sister.

Leo didn’t have a sister.

But y’know who did?

He gave Krang a searching look. On-edge as he was, he returned it with a glare, snapping, “What?!”

Leo chewed on his words for a second, then said, slowly, “Being attached to you turned my eyes yellow…”

Krang gave him a look of his own, confused and outraged at his deviation from the discussion at hand, probably. “Yes? And?”

“If lines like that are getting blurred, would it be possible for, like… other ones to get blurred, too? On your end, this time?”

“Pest, what are you getting at—?!”

“Could being connected to me make it possible for you to dream now? Even though you didn’t used to?”

Krang stared at him. Realization hit, then horror. That was enough of an answer for Leo.

Uno hadn’t been getting a front-row seat to Leo’s dreams; Leo had been getting a front-row seat to his. For months before he even knew what was happening. And maybe Leo was an idiot – certainly wouldn’t have been the first time he’d had “dumb-dumb” accusations thrown at him – but like…

He’d never. Really, ever. Thought, about Krang’s time in the prison dimension. Why would he? They pretty pointedly and very mutually didn’t like each other. And Krang still acted like the same arrogant, condescending, bloodthirsty asshole who’d been trying to take over earth, so it wasn’t like Leo had a change of behavior to prompt that kind of thought. He’d always sort of pictured Krang skulking around the emptiness, plotting a revenge that (hopefully) would never come, and villainously screaming at rocks.

But. But now Leo was thinking about it. He was thinking about three years, completely alone, surrounded by pretty much the ruins of his society and nothing else. He was thinking about all the things he’d been thinking about when he’d been trapped there, except without even the thought of “but at least we won!” to take the edge of things, if only a little. He was thinking about having to sit in that feeling for three years.

He was thinking about finally getting out, and still not getting to see his brothers or his dad or April.

…hoouh boy he was thinking too much…

Krang had disappeared back into Leo’s shell without another word, pretty much the second he’d registered Leo’s proposed theory to their newest bit of weirdness. It was painfully obvious he was upset, and – considering his little freak-out when they’d first woken up – wouldn’t be able to deflect that he was upset. So since he wasn’t able to think of a way to excuse his behavior that didn’t involve admitting to uncomfortable things, he’d noped his way out of the situation all together.

Leo didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he should bother to say anything. At the same time, the thought of laying here feeling…

He didn’t want to say he felt bad for Krang, that was too much to admit. Krang had done too much to Leo’s family to deserve anything even close to sympathy from Leo, which was exactly why he kinda felt like he should say something. If he sat in whatever this feeling was, it’d grow like weeds in concrete cracks, and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake like that. Or, more specifically, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake because of that. If he started to genuinely feel bad for the meatwad, everyone would be in danger, because of him, again. He needed to do something to address it now so he wouldn’t think about it.

And anyway, wasn’t Leo trying to work an angle here? “Playing nice” to throw Krang off, or else just make him lower his guard? What would throw him off/make him think Leo was buying into his bullshit more than throwing some of his “helpfulness” back at him?

…how does one comfort a parasitic warlord after they’ve had a scary dream for the first time?

Okay, well, like the experts say, start with what you know: What made Leo feel better when bad memories were fucking him over? Or at the very least, what distracted him enough to stop thinking about them for a minute?

…oh! Lightbulb!

---

The human had gone back to its domicile for the evening, and the lab was empty, dark, and quiet. Save for the soft glow and subtle drone of the television, anyway. What was playing on it was irrelevant – it was mostly just for company at this point.

Krang hung upside-down from the bars of her enclosure, watching the television listlessly. She didn’t know what was playing but, again, she didn’t really care. She had come to hate nights, if only for how boring they were. The human wasn’t amazing company by any stretch, but conversing with it was something to do. She supposed it made the most sense to (literally) call it a day and turn in for the night, but she’d reached a level of boredom where the thought of doing anything was paradoxically unpalatable. The tedium of her situation had drained her of all energy and motivation, to the point that even sleeping felt like a chore.

Krang huffed, flipping right-side up.

She wondered what her brothers were doing just then. Were they asleep, as she should be? Unless their circadian rhythms had been knocked askew somehow, she suspected so. Her brothers were a bit different from her – they liked their sleep. In fact, unless they were actively in the process of an invasion, Krang would almost venture so far as to say they overslept. At the very least, they seemed violently opposed to waking up at reasonable hours.

The break of dawn would’ve been respectable, at least! Krang herself preferred to be up just a bit before the sun rose. Just to ensure she could have some time to herself before she got to work for the day. Both her brothers would sleep until well past it had risen, if left to their own devices. Layabouts, both of them.

Her smaller brother in particular was the polar opposite to her. Unconsciousness was his response to tedium. Unless he was being mentally stimulated in some way, he’d drop off, not a care in the universe, wake him when something interesting happened. Her leader, at least, chose to remain alert once he was finally awake, as befitting his position.

She suspected sometimes that the knowledge that their leader was awake, aware, and on the lookout for potential enemies had something to do with their smaller brother’s comparably unconcerned disposition. She’d debated pointing this out to their leader more than once, but decided against it each time. It wasn’t as though he was being vigilant to coddle him, after all (or her, obviously). His duty as their leader, as the strongest, was to be on-guard for potential threats, either to engage them first before they became a problem, or to distribute orders as needed. Their brother went above and beyond whilst awake, and always came out of unconsciousness quick enough when required. No point fussing with a system that was working out fine.

She wondered if they were sleeping beside each other.

Psh. Probably. Likely habit by this point. They’d be fools not to, frankly.

Krang did not sleep alone. The practice was strategy-based. Sleeping, by definition, put one in an extremely vulnerable position, and it therefore paid to have allies nearby if things went sideways. It was also just practical – assimilations were exhausting. Krang could hardly be begrudged should they need to nod off for a bit once they reentered the comparative safety of their own ships. Veritably, they would be surrounded by other Krang wherever they did this.

Usually, established sibling groups would reconvene at a time where each member had completed their respective responsibilities, and would all fall asleep near each other. Less commonly (though certainly not unheard of), siblings would come together in a pile, usually for warmth. If a Krang’s sibling(s) were unavailable, it was typical to seek out a non-hostile acquaintance of some variety, and sleep near them.

When Krangs’ numbers had started to dwindle, the three of them had taken to sleeping in shifts. When only the three of them remained, they took to pressing together in a pile whenever they slept. Ostensibly, to make up for a lack of numbers that was so prominent it practically induced a physical sensation.

Krang did not sleep alone. It was unnatural. Krang needed other Krang nearby, or the emptiness of it would carve into their beings. Emotional deterioration begot mental deterioration, which – in extreme cases – led to self-termination.

That was how the greater portion of Krangs’ forces were lost, in fact. Self-termination, that was, albeit not as a result of lack of Krang. The prison dimension drained away the fortitude and wills of all but she and her brothers. Not that in-fighting hadn’t been responsible for some of the deaths within the prison dimension, but overwhelmingly…

Krang shook her head, dropping down from the bars to move into her nook. She needed to go to sleep. The time until the human returned would pass quicker that way, and then her annoyance with its prattling would swallow up the musings currently filling her mind.

She wasn’t so far gone as to actually be enticed by the option presently trying to wave itself in front of her face. Her central cavity would ache sometimes if she couldn’t find a distraction from her emptiness fast enough, but so far that was the extent of it. She took some comfort in that.

To self-terminate was only even contemplated by the weakest of the weak, much less actually seen through to completion. She was one of three remaining Krang in existence. She was not weak.

Neither were her brothers. And when they were reunited, they would raze this pathetic planet to cinders and ash for daring to separate them.

But for now, she’d try to sleep.

---

Krang’s host had pushed himself out of bed shortly after… after they’d awoken. At first, Krang hadn’t commented. Frankly, he was a bit too preoccupied trying to pretend neither of them existed.

If his host didn’t exist, it meant Krang needn’t bother with the shame that was spitting fire inside his chest. If he didn’t exist, he wasn’t required to think about how – apparently – he was at risk of returning to the prison dimension whenever he succumbed to sleep.  He wouldn’t have to face the fact that there was no way around the matter, because as impressive as the Krang were, they still needed rest. Which, how could he properly achieve that now, if his mind was still working overtime while he was trying to get it?

All because of his host. Krang was so enraged it made him sick.

But anyway, the more pressing matter: His host had gotten out of his bed. Krang hadn’t commented at first. He wasn’t sure what his host had gotten up to do, but furious and nauseous as he was, he hadn’t cared enough to ask.

But then he heard the – by this point – telltale sound of a portal being opened, and in spite of himself Krang felt obligated to find out why.

“Where are we going?” he demanded shortly from inside his shell. No response. “Pest?”

Still nothing. Irritation finally claimed the better part of Krang’s good sense, and, growling, he hauled himself back up towards the outside world. “Pest—!”

They were atop a building. A very tall building, what seemed like the whole of the city was visible from where they stood, as well as a good portion of the ocean beyond. The lights of other buildings and vehicles – already shining in the darkness of the night – glistened against the pavement that was still wet from the earlier rain. The noise floating up from the ground was present but tolerably distant.

“…why are we here, Pest?” Krang asked, staring out dispassionately out at the cityscape.

His host said, “Trust me,” which wasn’t an answer.

And then he jumped.

Krang didn’t scream. He’d perhaps yelped a bit in shock, but he didn’t disgrace himself by screaming as they entered freefall. His host slashed at the air with a sword suddenly, and a portal opened beneath them. Krang didn’t have time to say don’t, it didn’t matter where he portaled them to at this point, they were falling too fast, the impact would still be devastating even if it didn’t immediately kill them, don’t—

The portal didn’t transport them anywhere. Not anywhere new, at least – they were still in freefall. Well what had been the point of that, then?

Just as Krang realized the portal had, actually, moved them horizontally forward a few meters (they were farther away from the building they’d just jumped from, at any rate), his host opened another. Farther down, yet another, both to the same effect. And then Krang understood.

The portals were angled to send them forward just slightly. Gravity, as per the laws of most universes’ physics, had to work that much harder to redirect their path from forward to down, thus slowing their descent.

His host was using his portals to create a ramp.

Krang’s host spun and rolled through the air a few times, presumably simply because he could. The sensation of falling without interruption was addictive, somehow. It was something Krang could get lost in, indistinct and all-encompassing, but not… soft. There was an edge to the feeling, if that made any sense at all – even with the portal-ramp slowing their fall. The lights and colors of the buildings blurred together as they fell.

It was the express antithesis of the prison dimension.

The closer they got to the ground, the closer the portals got to each other. Eventually the direction they were moving was more horizontal than it was vertical; his host’s feet literally hit the pavement running, and then they were blinking in and out of the city’s streets as he ran.

They came to a stop in front of an alleyway, which his host quickly ducked into, likely to avoid witnesses.

His host turned to him, looking like he was about to say something. Krang cut him off by sharply smacking the back of his head.

“What was that?!” he demanded, gesturing furiously at the building they had jumped from, now a good ways in the distance. “Are you completely out of your mind?!”

His host gave him a pouty look, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s something I started doing a while ago,” he explained. “It’s like… a hard-reset. The adrenaline rush, or something. If you’ve got something on your mind, this can knock it back a few notches, sometimes.” He shrugged. “Figured we could both use a hard-reset.”

…fair enough. Regardless—

“You could’ve explained all that before throwing us off a building, Pest!”

“I mean— if I told you what I was going to do, I figured odds were high you’d tell me not to do it, so then if I went and did it anyway you’d get pissy and decide it hadn’t helped on principle— it was a whole thing.”

“Hm! Can’t imagine why I might’ve told you to not jump off a building—!”

“But did it work?” his host asked. “How do you feel right now?”

Krang didn’t answer. Exhilarated, honestly – certainly beat the heavy sense of dismay he’d been feeling immediately prior, anyway.

Irritatingly, his host seemed to infer this. He seemed pleased with himself, at any rate.

… nevertheless, Krang did feel less… tense…

Krang glanced back up at the building. It seemed even higher from here on the ground.

He looked back to his host. “…once more.”

Notes:

God help me I hope I described Leo's portal-ramp well enough for it to make sense. I have nothing to offer beyond "it makes sense in my head."

Also, I've noticed the fandom seems to take Uno's "the strong will devour the weak" line being literal in the case of why there's only three Krang left. As much as I appreciate the horror of the concept, I really can't get behind it being the MAIN reason, if only for the logistical issues surrounding it. If the Krang needed to eat in the prison dimension, why would they turn to reducing their forces by cannibalizing each other when, from what we saw, they could create additional biomass at will? Did the stuff Three covered everything in just taste really bad or what? If they didn't need to eat to survive, same question: Why reduce their numbers if their collective goal is conquest? Seems like nonsensical waste. Same thing for all of them just fighting and killing each other just because. And if they just died naturally, why did Uno sneer at the fallen for being "weak"?

But if the majority of the Krang armada deliberately took themselves off the census because they couldn't stand their circumstances anymore... that I could see being something our remaining Krang would lord over their deceased counterparts, or at least Uno would (irony).

Chapter 13: The Varying Ease and Difficulty of Picking a Lane

Dale stood waiting in the lobby, trying to tell himself he wasn’t nervous. It was a loud lie, but didn’t all the professionals say “fake it ’til you make it”? Yeah. He was giving that a shot.

In defense of the nervousness he definitely was not feeling, the Earth Protection Force was elite. Training to become a field agent, at even the lowest level, usually took longer. He was getting in now because the need for field agents was just that high. On the one hand, what an honor; on the other, the pressure was on.

He’d been driving home when the invasion first kicked off. His parents had given him crap about actually buying a car – “The cost of fuel alone will match the cost of the car itself in the first year and a half, and that’s not even getting into the meter fees. And anyway, where are you going where you’d need a car? You live and work in New York – just walk.” He’d defended that he’d be spending money to get an Uber or taxi anyway, and this way he’d never be landlocked to only traveling around New York. It’d seemed perfectly reasonable, even smart to Dale to have his own form of transportation handy whenever.

…and then he’d spent several terrifying hours trapped inside his car, suspended weightlessly in the air. The hole the aliens had ripped in the sky had done funky things to gravity within a certain radius of it, and his car had been inside that radius. It was only thanks to the EPF that he (and everyone else trapped inside a vehicle held about a hundred feet off the ground) had gotten out of the situation unscathed. He wasn’t so fond of his car after that.

The course of his entire life changed after that day. He’d been going to school for business back then. It’d seemed like the most versatile option, not to mention the safest bet – there were always career opportunities in business. Looking back on that thought process now made him feel naïve and sheltered. He’d been concerned with career opportunities when there were extraterrestrial monsters lying in wait out there, just waiting to annihilate all humanity.

Well, not if Dale had anything to say about it!

Or, y’know… if he eventually ever got a word in edgewise. He wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d have the opportunity to start judo-kicking aliens right out the gate. Not least of all because he didn’t know how to judo-kick things yet, but also because he was the new blood. He probably had years of due-paying ahead of him before he’d even get to look at an alien, much less get close enough to give it a solid kick.

“Mr. Malinowski?”

Dale jolted, spinning in the direction of the voice that’d just said his name. The man who’d spoken was 6’6” at least, professionally-dressed, and was wearing a completely neutral expression.

Dale nodded, trying to cover the lapse in composure he’d just introduced himself with, and extended his hand for a handshake. “Yep, that’s me.”

It then abruptly occurred to him that the handshake thing might be too businesscore – did government agents shake hands when they first met? Or did they give a nonchalant nod of acknowledgment and then get down to business? He took his hand back.

But then that seemed rude, so he stuck his hand back out again. Which felt awkward, which made him falter halfway through, which made him kick himself. This weird hokey-pokey was definitely not the first impression he’d wanted to make…

The man didn’t seem phased in the slightest. He reached forward himself to shake his still partially outstretched hand.

“Agent Winston Rook,” he said. “Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Mr. Malinowski.”

Dale relaxed just slightly. “Yeah, you too.”

Agent Rook let go of his hand, and gestured for Dale follow him further into the building. No – further into headquarters. Yikes, it felt so cool and official to say that…

“I’m the Earth Protection Force’s lead field agent,” Agent Rook explained as they walked, “so barring special circumstances, you’ll most often be reporting to me while out working. Has anyone explained to you what your work will most likely entail? I’m aware the current situation is a bit… atypical.”

“Oh, uh…” Dale said, rubbing the back of his head. “I mean, I got through… most of the basic training to become a field agent – all the “how to treat sensitive material” stuff, at least – but apart from getting told that I was being allowed to skip certain parts because the need for manpower was so high… nnnno. I don’t know what the work will, um, ‘entail.’”

Agent Rook nodded. “You’ll be restricted to entry-level field work for the time being. We’re not about to throw someone who hasn’t completed the bulk of their training into combat situations with nothing more than a pat on the back and a ‘try not to die.’ So if you were worrying about that, don’t. If you were hoping to be given a high-profile assignment first thing, sorry to disappoint. In our defense, you’re sort of an idiot who set yourself up for disappointment, if that’s the case.”

“N-not at all, sir! I know I have a lot of work ahead of me before—!”

“Good,” Agent Rook cut in, giving another nod. “For the most part, you’ll be assisting in clearing out pockets of extraterrestrial growths that can still be found around the city. The more seasoned agents are required for other, less general tasks, but the process I’ve just described is simple enough for someone who’s new to all this.” Tilting his head, as though just realizing, he asked, “Were you present when New York was invaded three years ago?”

Dale swallowed. “Yes, sir. I was actually in one of the vehicles that got swept up in the alien’s— um, whawouldyacallit… ‘gravity field’? Sorry, I’m not sure on the technical terms for things yet. Anyway, it was probably only because of the EPF that I survived at all. Your head agent – Bishop, right? Everyone talks about him – he personally helped extract me from my car before gravity came back and made it crash back down. Ever since that day, I’ve wanted nothing more than to join the EPF, and help keep our world safe from alien scum that might try to threaten it!”

Agent Rook’s neutral expression shifted just a bit. “So, in your own words, would you say that being a part of the Earth Protection Force carries a lot of personal meaning for you?”

Dale felt his chest puff out a little. “Yes, sir, it definitely does.”

“Then this might not be the best line of work for you.”

As Dale deflated, confused and a little wounded, Agent Rook went on, “If you joined the Earth Protection Force because you have a vendetta against extraterrestrial life, then you’re not actually working towards the organization’s main goal, which is to protect the earth. You’re working towards fulfilling your own goals of revenge, and using what we do here as a comparatively ‘noble’ cause to hide behind.

“Some of our current agents have problems with this concept, and it impairs their judgement. I’d discuss it with them, but in certain cases that could be construed as insubordination. Not my place to comment, at any rate.” He looked Dale directly in the eyes. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes sir…”

Agent Rook nodded a third time, a bit more decisively. “Please don’t think I’m chastising you. I can assure you that everyone here appreciates you coming in to help us with the situation we’re facing.”

Dale got just the slightest bit of wind back in his sails at that. “Your country thanks you…” …yeah he hadn’t said that word-for-word, but that was the gist. He was helping out the EPF, the EPF worked for the government, the government ran the country.

He suddenly couldn’t wait for his first high school reunion. He could already see it: Him, in the best shape of his life, with a high-profile job. The washed-up jocks, needing to rely on tucking their shirts into their slacks to keep their paunches in, and working nine-to-fives. Taylor Martin would be all over him. She’d be twirling her hair and giggling at his jokes and batting her eyelashes like she was still sixteen, trying to snag his interest. Sorry, T-Mar, you were never his type.

…okay, that last bit was mostly just a daydream for catharsis’ sake.  Definitely swerved really close to the “and then everyone clapped!” kind of stock, but Taylor was a bitch. There was something satisfying about imagining Little Miss Queen Bee drooling over him, and having the ability to put her in her place. Realistically, it was unlikely she’d even bother to show up to a high school reunion; she’d probably have “better” things to do. Instead Dale contented himself with the idea that by the time their reunion was set to take place, Taylor would probably already have a divorce under her belt or something. Or would at least be very unhappy or just bored in any marriage she might still be in. Assuming there was any truth in the post-high school statistics he’d seen, anyway.

Not that he had any intention of keeping up with what his old classmates were doing. Like, he heard things through the grapevine now and then, or saw the odd social media post, but that was about it. Jacob Brown had moved out to Maine and gotten a private pilots’ license, for example. Good for him - Jacob had always been decent to Dale. Aimee Limwick took a gap year, and was now studying to be a stylist. They’d gone to a dance together once, “as friends.” He hoped everything went well for her. His buddy Brian Klijeski had just had his first kid, though between him and Dale he wasn’t sure if it was going to work out with his girlfriend. Dale hadn’t known what to say to that; didn’t help that they’d sort of started drifting apart since they’d graduated.

April O’Neil was working at Channel 6 News. Which was great for her! She’d always wanted to get into journalism! And anyway, she had a face that was made to be on TV, if he could say so—

Not that he would. Because that was like, weird. Yeah, he’d had a crush on her for a while, but it’d be pretty pathetic to still have feelings for her. She was an acquaintance from high school, which they’d both graduated from years ago. And they literally hadn’t spoken since they’d graduated. He’d sent her a few messages on her Insta over the years. She was probably too busy with her college work/actual job, because she’d never responded.

The thought of him still having a crush on her? Jeeze, how sad could a person be? Couldn’t be him!

…maybe he did still think about her frequently. Not in a creepy or excessive way or anything! Just… in his whole life, he’d never met a girl like her, before or after. When he’d first started college, back before, he’d thought he’d give dating apps a shot. Except when he tried to mentally construct what his ideal partner would be like – traits, likes, temperament – he realized he’d accidentally re-created April. Obviously he’d still think of her, she was one in seven billion.

It was a total pipe dream, but since he was daydreaming anyway… what if, since April was in journalism, she started trying to work a story that just so happened to coincide with something the EPF was working on? Maybe specifically a mission Dale had been assigned to, once his career took off? How cute would that be for them?

She, the intrepid, quick-witted reporter, constantly poking her nose into potentially dangerous scenarios to get her scoop, and he, the stern, cool-headed, badass agent who’d always show up at the last second to save her from whatever scrape she’d gotten herself into. Like a modern-day Superman and Lois Lane. It might even develop to the point she’d come to playfully pester him for information directly. The banter between them would be to die for, he could feel it; it’d be even sweeter considering they went way back. Wrap it all up with a final grand hurrah where she realized she’d fallen in love with him, seal it with a kiss in the rain that any leading pair from a blockbuster action film would be jealous of, and let the credits roll!

Dale and Agent Rook turned the corner, and standing at the end of the hallway were two more agents – another man and a woman – conversing. They both looked up as they approached.

“This is helpful,” Agent Rook said. Turning to Dale and gesturing at each of the agents in turn, he said, “This is Rhiannon Knight, our Head of Intelligence, and this is John Bishop, the head agent of the entire Earth Protection Force. Before, I’d mentioned that you’ll usually report to me, barring special circumstances. These two are who you’ll most often be deferring to in such circumstances.”

Agent Knight had a warm smile and flawless make-up. Did the EPF have an official make-up artist on staff for their agents? Was this something television had actually gotten right, and secret agents all really were Hollywood-levels of put-together at all times? Dale hoped so. He was sick of being called “Cantalope Head” – make him look like Vin Disel. Agent Bishop was exactly how Dale remembered him from back when he’d gotten him out of his car during the invasion: Stern, cool, and basically everything you’d picture when you heard the words “secret agent.”

Gesturing at Dale, Agent Rook went on, “This is Dale Malinowski. He was brought in to help with the manpower shortage.”

Dale appreciated his wording there. Saying he was “brought in to help” rather than just “oh he’s new” made it sound like he had some sort of experience or proficiency that they were in dire need of. Made him feel just a little less like fresh meat, anyway.

Then he turned to Agent Bishop, saying, “You saved his life during the invasion, apparently. He’s a big fan.”

Dale promptly burst into flames and died. Like not actually, obviously, but he sure wished that was the case in that moment. “Oh hey, super-cool agent man! Meet your fanboy!” UGH…

He managed to muster up a weak smile, but before he could offer any kind of greeting, Agent Bishop said, “Could you two give me a second with the kid? I want to ask him a few things…”

Dale’s stomach dropped to his feet. What could he have possibly already done so wrong as to make Agent Bishop upset? Had he taken one look at him and decided he didn’t have the stuff for the job, and was about to send him packing? Did the “he’s a fan” comment make him think he was going to be weird about it? He had to stop himself from asking Agents Rook and Knight to hang back and not leave him. Agent Bishop was intimidating as hell, he didn’t want to be alone with him if he was upset—!

Agents Rook and Knight exchanged confused looks, then murmured their acquiescence before walking off together down the hall. Agent Rook said, “Don’t take too long with him, John – I have to finish showing him around,” but that was all.

They were alone. Dale swallowed.

“So,” Agent Bishop began, “you were around for the invasion?”

Still nervous, Dale nodded.

“…I’m truly sorry you had to go through that,” Agent Bishop said, and Dale’s apprehension was sucker-punched out of his system by how genuine he sounded. This… wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

Agent Bishop stuck his hands in his pockets, staring at the floor. “I had a close encounter when I was a kid, too. It’s what set me on the path to join the EPF. People… people don’t know what’s out there. People don’t know what's slipped through the cracks and is already here. And because they don’t know, they don’t think to be vigilant for it.”

He sighed suddenly. “It’s for the best, in some cases – or at least was, cat’s kind of out of the bag now. Now everyone’s just panicking. But before, at least, the average person didn’t have to feel like they needed to look over their shoulder for monsters. It’s heartbreaking now that they feel like they do. That’s where we come in, son. It’s our job to give the people of this planet their peace of mind back, either by taking out the alien scum that threatens them before they can become a problem, or stepping in to stop them if it gets to that.”

He looked back up, directly at Dale. “Agent Rook said we’d saved you. That means you got an up-close and personal look at the aliens, and all the horrors they could wreak. That means you know exactly what we’re up against, and how important it is that we don’t fail.” Somehow, his gaze became harder, but not in an angry way. More like… determined. “We are the only thing standing between humanity and the monsters who prey upon it. Can I trust you to uphold that?”

Dale tried to keep his expression calm and collected. It was way harder than it should’ve been. Not only, apparently, was Agent Bishop the coolest man to ever live, but he really, truly got it. Agent Rook seemed great and all, but Dale now felt he could safely assume he hadn’t seen the aliens like he and Agent Bishop had. He and Dale were on the exact same page, and they were going to be working together (only really by proxy, technically, but still!) to keep people safe.

Dale suddenly felt more sure about this career path than he ever had about business, and he said, “Yes sir.”

---

“Last night was the first time I ever heard you swear.”

Why this was the first thing Leo said when he woke up was above and beyond him. One second he realized he was awake, then he realized Krang was awake, and then next thing he knew, that was rolling out of his mouth.

Like, he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have an explanation as to why that was apparently his literal first thought of the day.

Krang, clearly not having any more insight as to why he’d said this than Leo himself, stirred inside his shell, and mumbled “wha…?”

(Granted, in Krang-O’s case, it also probably helped that he was pretty obviously not fully awake yet, but you get it.)

Deciding on the fly to see the sentiment through now that he’d thrown it out there, Leo said, “Last night. Before we, um, before we went out. You said ‘fuck’ a couple times. I’ve never heard you use that word before.”

Krang didn’t immediately respond, which was enough to remind Leo why he usually tried to give himself a thirty minute buffer before he tried to do anything in the morning.

…afternoon. Maybe. Or whatever time it actually was. They’d been up late and it was the weekend, it was whatever. Thirty minute buffer after he woke up, whenever that may be. Anyway, Krang’s whole deal – being reminded of his loss of composure was probably going to be a hot-button for him, and Leo had probably just pushed it by reminding him.

But then all Krang did was grumpily (sleepily) insist, “You say ‘fuck’ regularly, why can’t I?”

Leo relaxed.

“Pff, I ain’t your dad – cuss as much as you want, Horchata,” he said. “It just registered for me, I guess. Considering all the choice moments you’ve had to start swearing but didn’t, I kinda thought you’d decided you were, like… above that, or whatever.” He considered for a second, then added, “Or that you just didn’t know what the word meant. One of the two.”

Krang huffed. “I could swear at you in languages you’ve never even heard of. Krang are omniglots at birth.” A scoff. “I know what ‘fuck’ means.”

There was a joke to be made here – the opportunity was just sitting there. For once, Leo didn’t jump on it. He considered himself a trailblazer in the comedy department, but the joke itself was located in dangerous territory.

Well, not dangerous territory, exactly – definitely awkward, though. Cross that border and he might end up learning things he wouldn’t be able to unlearn. Or at the very least, make things uncomfortable between him and the guy he couldn’t get away from.

Just as well, other things to talk about:

“What’s an ‘ommiglot’?”

“Omniglot, and it means Krang speak all languages. Did you truly think Krangs’ native tongue is what you speak? Despite us clearly not hailing from your planet, where the language was created?”

Oh. Uh. Huh, it was suddenly occurring to Leo that years of Jupiter Jim movies had pretty strongly desensitized him to aliens nonsensically speaking English…

“Well, I mean… I guess I just kinda figured you’d… picked it up? Like, back before…?”

“The earthlings Krang first encountered on this planet spoke a completely different language than any of you,” Krang said, unimpressed. “So no, try again.

...right. Krang had landed in Japan at first. So that… yeah, that should’ve been another clue something was weird. Crap.

“How’s that work?” Leo asked, kind of interested in spite of himself. “How can you know all the languages? There has to be a lot, right? How do you just know something you might not’ve even known existed before?”

Krang made a lofty, dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “Innate ability. Most other beings in the universe are just too underdeveloped for it, I suppose.”

Leo narrowed his eyes. “…you don’t know how it works either, do you?”

Krang didn’t respond. Leo got the sense he was being glared at. Which meant he totally didn’t know.

Yeesh, Krang were so freaky even they didn’t know how they worked…

Leo rolled onto his stomach to blindly feel along the floor for his phone. He still wasn’t sure what time it was. Was it bad he was hoping it was still early? He was still tired; if it was early enough it meant he could get away with pulling his blankets up over his head and passing out for a few more hours.

Anyway, he really felt a few more hours of ZZZs would help with more than just the tiredness – he was feeling extremely off-center after everything that happened yesterday, which had been a lot. Krang deciding to fight everyone’s mistrust of him by living up to the “Cuddlelumps” nickname, specifically (allegedly) for Leo’s benefit, for example. Which, affective well-meant or not, meant Leo would have to deal with the weirdo nuzzling up to him for the foreseeable future. So that was gonna be an adjustment and a half.

Next was how supposedly, potentially, empyrean could be used to (safely!) separate him and Krang. Leo was still very torn over whether he should let himself get hopeful here. He didn’t want to deal with the fallout of disappointment if it didn’t work. And if it did, he wasn’t sure what would happen to Krang afterwards—

Leo’s hand faltered, and he made a face. It was the same one he’d pulled right after Raph had dared him to bite a lemon when they were kids. He’d phrased that last thought wrong.

He didn’t, like… care what happened to Krang after. A couple vent-sessions and a night on the town weren’t enough to suddenly make him worry for the creep. It was more that – grown to full-strength or not – it was probably supremely un-smart to just… dump him somewhere, go “thanks for the memories! I’ll think of them every time I debate whether or not I need therapy!” and call it there. Or worse, keep him around in some capacity. But the only other option for what to do with him would be… y’know. More permanent.

Leo didn’t think any of his family would be able to go that route on anybody, unless that body had a. Swung first, and b. Wouldn’t stop swinging, and was putting them all in danger because of it. Which… if Krang was around the size he was now if/when they separated, even if he was taking swings, it wasn’t likely they’d be to the same devastating effect they’d been before.

…maybe Donnie could bring himself to take him out, if it came to that. More likely he’d wanna put Krang in a jar and study him over flat-out killing him, though.

Leo shook his head, resuming his blind-grab for his phone (yes it would be quicker to just lean over the edge of the bed to see where it was; no he was not going to do that). There was no point in getting caught up in how to handle a situation that might not even happen. This was a “cross that bridge only if the map app brings you that direction, otherwise why worry about it?” –problem. Moving on…

Leo had intentionally done something to help Krang feel better after his first-ever nightmare. Now that he was more awake, he felt weird about it. Really weird. For a couple reasons.

Apparently the Krangs’ definition of “once more” was different than earth’s was – translation error, or something – because they’d portal-jumped down buildings five times after the initial leap. Through a see-through mask of “this is totally beneath me, no really,” Krang had kept requesting they leap from different buildings he could see off in the distance.

(Leo hadn’t been complaining. For as much as he now acknowledged what he’d been seeing in his dreams had probably been from Krang’s side of the line, he’d still felt creeped out and uncomfortable by it. The adrenaline-reset had shaken the unpleasantness out of his system. And when he came down from said adrenaline, he’d been exhausted enough where going back to sleep had been fairly easy. There was a reason he’d started doing this over the years, after all.)

Leo had caught Krang's expression once or twice out of the corner of his eye as they fell. It’d been weird – New York’s sky had been as dark and empty as it ever was thanks to the lights. It made no sense that Leo could’ve sworn he saw stars in Krang’s eyes as he watched the lights blur around him. It’d been a weirdly humanizing experience to have with the guy leeching off him from inside his shell.

 …was he being stupid? At the time he’d justified it with the thought of “I’m going to make him feel better now so I won’t think about the sympathy-inducing aspects of his whole situation later.” The dumb, soft, squishy part of Leo’s psyche had thrown him into Krang’s shoes— …tentacle… socks, or whatever Krang might substitute for footwear, should they ever choose to bother – and the thought of how he’d feel in his situation had been sort of gut-wrenching.

Now, thinking back on it, he felt like he’d gotten played, somehow. Which was extra exasperating, considering it’d been a one-on-none last night, and he’d effectively pulled one over on himself. That little… bit in the middle where they’d been portal-dropping off buildings hadn’t done anything to help him wipe his hands of things. Neither had the contented burnt-out-of-adrenaline-exhaustion they’d mutually fallen into once they got back to Leo’s room. It was scary to think he’d miscalculated and shot himself in the foot with the whole thing.

But – and this was the kicker – he was more lucid than he’d been at like 3:00am after having woken up from a hand-me-down nightmare. He was thinking more clearly. Now that he reflected for a second, his reasoning for feeling bad for Krang in the first place was probably flawed as hell too.

The Krang didn’t care about each other like Leo cared about his family, no matter how much they called each other “brother” or “sister.” Or at least, if he was being fair, THIS Krang clearly didn’t. Guy learned his “brother” had died and barely flinched. He’d probably only even asked about his “sister” because he knew he wouldn’t be able to pull off a huge-scale invasion all by himself. So trying to graft how Leo would feel in his situation made about as much sense as thinking a gun would feel as bad about accidentally shooting someone as the person who’d been using it might.

As for Krang being freaked out by the thought of being back in the prison dimension… yeah, that part was a little sympathy-inducing, when looked at from a certain angle, but y’know what? Don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time, bucko. If you hadn’t been screwing with everyone, you wouldn’t have gotten dumped in there.

Well. These logic bombs helped knock any lingering feelings of compassion back a couple inches, at least…

Leo felt oddly like he’d been cheated somehow, but he couldn’t explain why.

His hand finally closed around his phone, and he brought it up to his face. The screen screamed 12:28 at him. So not early at all, really.

… well. He should probably try to squeeze in some training or something before the day was done, he’d been thinking about that. This whole “Krang host” situation had really screwed with his regimen.

Leo swung his legs off the bed, then pushed the rest of him into an upright position. He heard grumbling from inside his shell – Krang didn’t want to get up any more than he did, apparently. Funny, he woulda thought a literal dictator would be more disciplined than him…

Leo wandered towards the kitchen. Coco Puffs for lunch! No use training on an empty stomach! (...also maybe some toast and a piece of fruit! And some leftover pizza, if there was any! The "we're supporting two people here, FEED US!" signals his body was apparently sending him were still going strong!) It was on the way there that he heard what could only be described as a “commotion.”

From Donnie’s lab. Now: Was it normal to hear any and all descriptions of bizarre noises from Donnie’s lab under normal circumstances? Yeah. Don got up to all kinds of bonkers shenanigans. Generally speaking, it was safer to move away from his lab if you heard weird noises, lest ye break his concentration at a pivotal moment, or else somehow get caught in the crossfire of whatever he was working on.

Buuut generally speaking Donnie wasn’t pseudo-swearing up a storm over the sounds of commotion. Leo guessed whatever he was saying was some sort of science-y smart-guy reference, but like heck if he could say what any of it was.

Krang had slithered up out of his shell shortly after Leo had left his room, but hadn’t initially done anything other than look grumpy. Which considering he was the reigning king of Resting Bitch Face, either meant he was legitimately pissed about something, or he wasn’t feeling anything. Anyone’s bet which.

Now, however, he asked, “Why are we heading towards the rising sounds of calamity, pray tell?”

Leo shrugged. “Because, dear Dubble-Bubble, those ‘calamity’ sounds mean either Donnie’s got himself in a bind and he’s gonna need a hand with things, or that he’s made a mess and looks really stupid right now. It’s my Brotherly Duty to go check on him and either help or laugh.”

Rather than offer pushback or sneer at him or even just roll his eyes, like Leo’d been expecting, Krang just sort of nodded thoughtfully (if still kinda grumpy). Man, this guy was hard to get a beat on…

Donnie’s lab was just how Leo’d come to expect it to be when he first walked in: Purple, machines and blinkety-blinks all over, Donnie in the middle. In fact, if you squeegee’d away the giant glowing green puddle in the middle of his work table, it’d be very hard to tell anything was amiss at all.

“Is that empyrean??” Leo blurted. Donnie jumped a little, spinning to face him. His expression was quintessential deer-in-headlights.

For a second, anyway.

“How many times do I have to tell you people to announce yourselves before entering my lab?? Or at least not sneak up on me?? You make me jump while I’m handling hazardous materials and the whole Lair could get blown higher than—”

“One, easy fix, stop messing with hazardous materials in the Lair, boom problem solved, two you’re dodging the question, is that empyrean?”

Donnie looked shifty and nervous for a second, glancing back at the green splotch, then slumped. “It… might be. A little. Yeah.”

Alright. Now that that had been established: “Why?” And then, secondary matter of concern: “Where did you even get it? Did you go back after we all got home last night or something?”

“Eye-roll. No. That sounds like quite possibly the biggest waste of time ever.” He shifted his weight. “I collected a sample of my own while everyone’s backs were turned as we were heading back.”

Hm. Kinda slick, actually – Leo hadn’t even noticed. But anyway.

“Okay, cool. Now just explain the why you did that, and what you did that apparently made it explode, and I’ll mosey on.”

Donnie raised a markered-on brow. “I’m trying to figure out if there’s a way the empyrean can be used to separate you from the slimy abomination presently sitting on your shoulder??”

(He gestured pointedly at Krang, who tensed. Glancing over, Leo saw his eyes had narrowed. Leo’s reflexes made his hand twitch, as though it wanted to reach up and give him a “don’t take it too seriously” pat. He didn’t, but like… his damn reflexes were out here trying to make him look stupid.)

Donnie went on, scoffing, “Were you paying attention during any of that discussion, ’Nardo? Or when we went to actually get the empyrean? Or did you just… forget? ‘Why did you do that—’ Honestly.”

Leo’s expression scrunched, annoyed. “Yeah, I was listening to every word, thanks – in fact I pretty distinctly heard Draxum say this was something he was going to work on? So I’m still a little confused as to why you’re working on it, by yourself.”

Donnie suddenly looked away, shuffled his feet. “Draxum is approaching this problem mystically, I’M approaching it scientifically (the superior way to approach anything, but that’s beside the point). It just makes sense to explore all possible avenues, considering.”

Translated from Donnie-Speak: “I’m doing my own form of research to cover any blind spots Draxum might have in his so we can fix this for you.” Which… aww.

Donnie turned to glare at the green puddle, clearly frustrated. “Unfortunately, it would seem that there’s a baseline understanding of mysticism required to properly study empyrean, because trying to use proper, scientific methods results in…” He gestured at the mess half-heartedly. “…this whole situation.”

He sighed, pinching the space between his eyes. “I fear I’ve irreversibly contaminated this sample. I’ll have to scrap it and then decontaminate my entire workstation before I can try again…”

“…or,” Leo said, delicately, “you could ask Draxum if you could work with him on whatever he’s doing? Learn that ‘baseline understanding of mystic-stuff’ like you said? Spare the rest of us from having to worry you’ll accidentally mad-science yourself to death while you’re working with this stuff?”

Again, Donnie rolled his eyes. “Yes. Because Draxum is so very easy to work with, and would not at all treat any potential involvement on my part as a bothersome intrusion. And he most certainly would not be condescending in his attempts to teach me the proper way to handle empyrean. He would never.”

Pot? Meet Kettle.

“Lemme rephrase: Please go ask Draxum to give you a better idea of how to safely work with this stuff, or I’m going to ask Dad and Raph to come talk to you about it.”

Donnie’s jaw dropped, betrayed.

“I was doing this for you…” he hissed.

Leo nodded. “’Preciate it! Do this other thing for me too!”

Donnie crossed his arms, sulking, but finally grumbled, “Fine.”

Leo smiled, tilting his head sweetly. “Thaaaank you Donniiie.”

Donnie just gave him a supremely put-out look. Which was fine – meant he still had a face. And Leo had just guaranteed he wouldn’t accidentally blow his face off. Brotherly Duty fulfilled.

“…this whole venture of your clan remains nonsensical and pointless,” Krang muttered once they were a ways from the lab, back en route to the kitchen. “I’ve told all of you that there’s no separating a Krang from their host, multiple times now. You’re all idiots.”

Again, Leo couldn’t be sure if this was general, indignant rage, or if Krang was actually nervous. He decided to interpret it as rage because— Because.

“Yeah, well, ‘never know unless you try,’ that whole bit,” he said tonelessly. “Can’t blame us for giving it a shot. If we flipped the script, I’m sure you would.”

Krang didn’t respond. Leo also decided that was a relief.

They got to the kitchen, Leo took out a bowl and the Coco Puffs box, then stopped, glancing at the sink.

Donnie had said he’d need to “decontaminate” his workstation, hadn’t he? Wouldn’t he need cleaning spray for that?

Well hey, Donnie had made a mess of his lab for Leo’s sake; least he could do would be to help clean up, right?

Leo left his bowl and un-poured cereal on the counter, and went to dig under the sink.

They didn’t have a spray bottle of what he’d been looking for – note to self, mention that next time someone said they were going to the store. But they did have a big ol’ “clean up after a murder” –sized bottle of bleach, which was probably the next best thing, if not better outright. Leo took it out, grabbed the ratty cleaning rag that lived under the sink with the rest of the household chemicals, and sloshed a bit of the bleach onto it. Like, he’d bring the whole bottle back to the lab, just in case more was needed, but it felt like a more clear “here to help!” sign if he came back in ready to go—

Ah. Um. Leo felt… weird.

“Pest?” Krang demanded suddenly. His tentacles were suddenly gripping Leo’s shoulder very hard. “What’s happening? What is that?”

Leo didn’t know what to say. His vision was wobbly and he didn’t know why. Like, his vision wasn’t swirling, he wasn’t dizzy, it was literally like everything he saw was jiggling in place just slightly. He closed his eyes, pressing his hand to his head. Was he just more tired than he’d realized he was? He opened his eyes—

There were too many colors, suddenly.

 

Chapter 14: Back to Class: D.A.R.E. and Sex-Ed

Raph had been going ham on one of the training dummies when it happened. He could’ve sparred with Buddy, and had thought of him at first, but if he was going at it with an actual person, he’d have to be more mentally present. Which meant he wouldn’t be able to go over what he’d be doing with his students the next day in his head. He wanted to have a refresher day where everyone could work on some stuff they might be struggling with before they moved to the next level. It was either going to be a super lowkey day, or Raph was going to be glad for all the practice that crime-fighting had given him. Monday’s group was usually pretty easy to direct, which was why it might be an easy day.

But Monday’s group also had Heather in it.

Be real, real clear about this right off the bat – Raph loved kids. And ninety-nine times out of a hundred, if a kid was a “problem child,” it usually just meant they had something going on that they personally didn’t know how to fix. Raph was always more than happy to be the grown-up who helped them work out a solution. Again, ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

Heather was the one left over.

Strike one against her: She was… violent. She kept asking Raph when he was gonna teach them how to silently snap someone’s neck, and would then get belligerent when he’d re-emphasize he wasn’t. Ever. Never ever. Honestly, he was pretty sure that if someone didn’t intervene soon, she was gonna be the next villain helping him hone his previously mentioned crime-fighting skills. Which was extra scary, because her Dad was a Hidden City cop. Which you’d think, “shouldn’t that be a good thing? She’ll always have someone watching and making sure she can’t hurt anyone, right?”

No, because strike two: She was spoiled. Daddy got his little “precious little princess” anything she wanted. And if anyone said anything openly negative about her where he could hear it, he acted like he’d just watched someone kick a two-legged puppy down three flights of stairs. If Heather ever got into trouble (or actually hurt anyone), Raph had zero doubts her dad would do everything he could to make the problem go away for her. She was already way too comfortable with threatening people with “my daddy is a cop, and if you don’t do what I say I’ll have him arrest you!”

To the guy’s credit, so far Raph hadn’t seen him even momentarily entertain the idea of abusing his position just because his daughter wanted him to. It’s just that when she tried (or when Raph went to him after lessons with concerns about her behavior), he’d jovially wave it off, calling his little angel “spirited” or some other unhelpful excuse.

Which led to strike three: When threatening to get people arrested didn’t get Heather what she wanted (because by now everyone knew the threats were empty), she’d throw a tantrum like a kid nine years younger than she actually was. For reference: she was twelve.

Strike four: Tie it all together, she wasn’t popular with the other kids. That alone wasn’t the strike – in fact on its own it’d be kind of sad. The strike was that she resented this, which upped the frequency of her threatening to have people arrested and/or throwing tantrums.

Basically, this kid was on her last leg in terms of Raph’s patience. One more strike and he’d have to either figure out how to convince her dad to have her evaluated, or else just kick her out of the class altogether.

(Raph wasn’t a baseball-guy, he was a wrestling-guy – it was like five strikes and then you were out, right? It was an odd number, he remembered that much. Hopefully it wasn’t seven or something, or this whole analogy would fall apart.)

Anyway, the point: He’d been absent-mindedly sparring with a dummy, deep in his own head, when he was nearly spooked out of his shell by a very, very loud scream.

By Leo’s very, very loud scream. Y’know, the guy who had an evil parasite literally breathing down his neck 24/7.

The only reason Raph didn’t Kool-Aid Man his way to his little brother’s side was because he’d left his sais back in his bedroom. He had to settle for moving just below whatever the speed to leave scorch marks behind him was.

He rounded into the kitchen (where the screams were coming from) to find Leo backed up against the counter, gripping it with both hands. The Krang was out too, which immediately sent Raph from “worried” to “RED ALERT.”

“Leo?!” Raph called, hurrying over. “What’s wrong?! Raph’s here now, everything’s gonna be okay, just tell me what happened, what’d it do—?!”

“Colors,” Leo interrupted. Raph realized he was glancing around the room rapidly, looking just short of frantic. “Too many of them. I couldn’t even tell you what some of them are. It’s like when Mina did her whole ‘Rainbow of Doom’ deal, or whatever Donnie called it, except it’s more— it’s less? There’s more actual colors but I can still see through them, I don’t know—”

He laughed suddenly, high-pitched and panicky despite clear effort not to be. “This what you’ve been going through with your eye? The patch makes sense now, even without the headaches! New thing we can bond over, I guess?”

Raph’s stomach dropped. Leo was seeing the colors he was? In both eyes, just like he’d talked about with Casey?? WAS he going to have to wear two patches now—??

He rounded on the Krang, but before he could do more than glare so hard he felt like he’d pulled a muscle in his face, a commotion behind him cut him off. Turning he saw Mikey and Donnie disentangling themselves from the floor, apparently having just crashed into each other. Dad slid into view not a second after.

“What is it?!” he demanded, glancing frantically from his sons on the floor to Raph and Leo. “What happened?!”

“The Krang messed with Leo’s eyes!!” Raph exclaimed, pointing at it furiously with both hands. “He’s seeing extra colors just like Raph—!!”

“I didn’t do anything!” the Krang barked.

Raph’s head jerked back to look at it. The high-pitched, panicky note that had been running through Leo’s laugh was in its voice, too. And now that he really looked, he saw how tightly it was gripping Leo’s shoulder, and how its eyes were also flicking wildly around the room. Violently and explicitly against his will, Raph’s Protective Older Brother Rage faltered a little in confusion.

His suspicion, on the other hand, was unaltered. He scoffed skeptically. “And why should we believe that? The only reason I see extra colors is because of you Krang-creeps; makes sense that you’d be the reason why Leo’s all—”

“Everything looks wrong!” the Krang insisted, suddenly loud. “I can’t speak for there being ‘extra colors,’ but everything I’m seeing looks like—! It’s all—! Why would I do this to myself just to spite your brother?!”

“I don’t think he’s lying,” Leo suddenly added. “The colors are definitely the biggest ‘whoa there what the heck’ part for me, but yeah underneath that nothing looks right. I think whatever’s happening is affecting both of us—”

“Why is nothing solid?!” the Krang demanded a little shrilly, still looking around. Raph’s fists clenched involuntarily as its tentacles continued to tighten around Leo’s shoulder, hard enough to make him flinch. Leo was apparently less concerned about that than he was, though:

“Haha yeah the island is definitely made of water now??” he confirmed. The note of ‘if I don’t choose to pretend this is funny I’m gonna lose it’ in his voice had gotten stronger. “That’s new, right??”

Everyone else turned to look at the island. It was made of the same non-watery stuff it always was. They turned back to him, increasingly concerned.

“What were you doing when this started?” Donnie asked, pushing past Raph. “Is there anything you can think of that could’ve triggered it?”

Leo paused, then stepped away from the counter he’d been backed up against. Behind him, they saw an open bottle of bleach.

“You said you needed to decontaminate the empyrean out of your lab, so I thought, ‘okay, I’ll get some bleach for that and help,’ and then when I poured it out—”

“Pause – you were going to try to help me clean up my lab with bleach? Are you insane? We have no idea how empyrean would respond to being mixed with a chemical as potent as bleach, for all you know that could end up creating the next mustard gas—!”

“I was trying to help!” Leo wailed, distressed and disbelieving and exasperated.

“Purple why do you have empyrean??” Dad demanded.

“Because I was trying to help!” Donnie insisted, also exasperated.

“You’re rounder than usual,” the Krang blurted, staring directly at Leo and looking disconcerted.

Leo snapped his head to look at him. “Are you saying I look fat—?! Whoa. Whooaa never mind, you look a lot… blobbier than usual too. And your eyes are purple. What the hell. What the hell you look so much more like chewed gum than normal—”

“Why do they now look exactly like you?!” the Krang demanded, glancing between Leo and the rest of them (sort of; his eyes skated over Dad).

“What?!”

“All of you are ROUND and IDENTICAL now—!”

(Important note: A quick glance at everybody else showed that nobody looked any different. Not them, not Leo, not the Krang. Great.)

“SO ANYWAY,” Donnie cut back in, “considering this whole situation started after you two made contact with bleach, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s the root of this reaction. If I had to guess, bleach apparently has hallucinogenic properties for Krang, which… considering Leo’s attached to one right now…”

“So— wait,” Raph said, processing, “‘hallucinogenic properties—’ Are you saying that they’re both basically just… trippin right now? They’re just high? That’s all this is?”

“‘That’s ALL this is’??” Leo and the Krang repeated in unison. Which. Mm. Weird and uncomfortable. Raph hadn’t liked that.

Thankfully, it only lasted for a second.

“Why didn’t you put on gloves while handling that stuff?!” the Krang demanded hotly gesturing at the bleach bottle.

“Because I’ve literally never had this reaction before??” Leo shot back. “Not until you! You’re the reason we’re completely zooted out of our gourds right now—!”

“It’s not like I had any say in the matt—!! …‘Zooted??”

“Alright, enough, enough you two!” Raph cut in. “Let’s just take a second to think here, we’ll figure this out!…” He turned to the rest of his family. “Any ideas??”

“I don’t think there’s really anything to do?” Donnie said. “What they’re experiencing sounds comparable to the effects of lysergic acid diethylamide, which means—”

“Ugggghhh you and your NERD WORDS, what the heck is ‘lysinegenic acid diatribe—’”

“LSD, Leo,” Donnie groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re basically on LSD right now.”

Dad winced. “I never understood why people liked that one…”

“…he says sounding an awful lot like its coming from experience,” Leo said, turning to look at him.

Mikey was also giving him a look. “Dad, um… did you ever do LSD?”

Dad shook his head absentmindedly. “No, but during my acting days I was very acquainted with coke— A-COLA!! Coca-Cola!! I had sooo much caffeine as Lou Jitsu it was insane!!” 

He waved his hands in front of him, very ‘don’t mind me, don’t mind me!’ and forced a laugh. “Some of my co-stars did LSD, and it always looked like a very-bad, no-good time! Just like how all drugs are a very-bad, no-good time, but especially that one! Based on what I saw!”

There was a drawn out silence as everyone stared at him. He looked to be that special kind of uncomfortable where you weren’t in a situation where you could show you were uncomfortable. So instead you just had to stand there and grin through it like you weren’t having the worst time imaginable.

Basically, he didn’t look especially truthful right then.

“…revelations of Papá’s recreational drug-use aside,” Donnie said, looking away, “if this reaction is indeed similar to LSD, there’s not a whole lot we can do here. We have to ride it out and wait for it to stop.”

(Under his breath, he added, “If it stops,” which Raph gave him a glare for. Not helping.)

Dad stepped forward and took Leo by the hand. “Blue, come sit…”

Leo let himself be led, muttering “pink looks good on ya, Dad,” but stopped before actually sitting on one of the stools around the island.

“I can’t sit there.”

One of Dad’s ears cocked to the side. “Yes Blue, you can, it’s alright—”

“It’s made of water?” the Krang pointed out, like it was obvious and Dad was stupid. “He’ll fall through?”

“No, see—” Dad hopped up to sit on the stool himself. “It’s perfectly safe! You won’t fall!”

Leo and the Krang stared at him like he were some sort of wizard, minds blown.

As Dad continued to try to coax Leo into sitting down, Raph turned to Donnie. “There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“And what would you suggest, Raphael?” Donnie shot back. “Pump their systems to flush out what’s causing the reaction? They didn’t ingest anything. Create an antidote? I don’t know enough about Krang-matter to even understand why the bleach has this effect, much less on what to do to counteract it—”

“Come on, Don,” Mikey cut in. “Can’t you at least try to science-up something?”

“How many times must I tell you people that, despite my prodigious genius, I cannot simply snap my fingers and pull solutions out of thin air—?!”

“What the hell is that?!”

They all looked back over to Leo. Dad had succeeded in getting him to sit down. He now sat unsteadily on the edge of the stool, noticeably wobbling despite clear attempts to hold as still as possible. He was staring off into the doorway, looking spooked.

Raph looked over himself despite knowing he wouldn’t see anything. He was about to demand what it was Leo was seeing, when the Krang spoke over him and said, “I don’t know, I can’t see.”

The stool clattered a little as Leo wobbled on top of it, not taking his eyes off the doorway. “What??”

“I can’t control my eyes,” the Krang said, tone creeping close to panic and holding either side of its head with its tentacles. And… yep, its eyeballs were definitely tweaking out in its face. The rapid flicking they’d been doing before had gotten cranked up to eleven. Raph actually had to turn away, because even the thought of what that probably looked like was making him motion-sick by proxy.

“So then close ’em Uno, just—!” Leo clapped his hand over the Krang’s face. The Krang promptly pressed its tentacles over his hand, as if to keep it in place. “Freaking out isn’t gonna help us here, just be cool!”

(Said the turtle clearly freaking out.)

“Whaddya seeing over there, Leo?” Raph asked, trying to get back on track.

“It’s like— I don’t remember the name for it, some kind of dinosaur— a Sarah!”

There was a group “what??” followed by Donnie insisting “there are no dinosaurs called ‘Sarah.’”

“C’mon guys, Sarah! From that sad-as-balls dino cartoon Mikey was obsessed with when we were kids!”

“Ohhhh CERA!” Mikey exclaimed, remembering. “Wait, you’re seeing a three-horn in the kitchen??”

Donnie scoffed. “The scientific name is actually ‘triceratops—’”

The Krang’s head suddenly jerked away from Leo’s hand, and its tentacles cupped on either side of its eyes as though to steady its vision. Its expression dropped.

“That’s a triceraton.”

“No, paleontologists dubbed it triceratoPS, it means—”

“Triceratons are a race that were assimilated by the Krang ages ago, you nitwit!” the Krang snarled, once again closing its eyes and pressing its tentacles to them.

Ignoring Donnie’s offended gasp, it went on, “It’s smaller than it has any right to be, but that is most assuredly what that is! I’ve fought and defeated enough to recognize one!”

“You said the Krang ‘assimilated’ these guys?” Leo clarified, voice low and gaze unmoving.

“Yes?”

“Is that why he looks so happy to see you?”

The Krang hesitated. “I— erm…?”

“Because yeah, he’s— hooh boy, he is glaring. And this is a small one? He’s huge!”

“Triceratons wouldn’t fit in most of your earthling structures, much less underground. So yes, it’s vastly smaller than its kind usually gets to be.”

“Okay cool, take the breaks where we can get ’em I guess, but that doesn’t change the fact that he looks pissed—”

“And what would you like me to do about that, Pest?? Do you think it’ll accept an apology after all these years??”

“No, but—! I dunno, could you at least go into my shell for a minute or something? I think seeing you is what’s making him upset, maybe if you’re less center-frame I could schmooze a little and calm him down—”

“Alright,” the Krang said, sounding half-annoyed and half-agreeing as it slid back into Leo’s shell, “I’m going, I’m—!”

Just as quickly as it’d slipped back into Leo’s shell, it popped out again, looking alarmed.

“What?” Leo demanded. “Come on Uno, just—”

“I’m not going in there,” the Krang said.

“Wh—? Ugh, c’mon man, why not—?”

“The inside of your shell changed, Pest, I’m not going in!”

“‘Changed’? What do you mean it—?” Leo stopped, like a thought had just hit him. “…does it— does it have anything to do with, um… with the issues we were having last night? Like, the subject matter of the issues, I mean?”

What? What issues? Leo was having issues with the Krang? Why hadn’t he said anything??

Once again pressing its tentacles to its frantically flicking eyes and scowling at seemingly nothing, the Krang nodded.

“…okay. Okay, that’s… great, oh God, that’s just great. Look, don’t worry about it, we’ll work around it, just— duck down as much as you can without actually going inside, I’ll just—”

Whoa, whoa—

“Leo, why do you have your swords??” Raph demanded, jumping back as his brother stood up and whipped out his katanas.

“I was gonna go train before all this started!” Leo explained, eyes locked on the doorway. Fair enough, but just a friendly reminder, just in case anyone had forgotten: There was no “triceraton.” The only people around Leo right then were his dad and brothers. Which meant they were the ones at risk of being sliced and diced if Leo started slashing, not any imaginary dinos.

“Put ’em away before someone gets hurt, Leo! Nothing’s gonna attack you!”

“I know!! It’s just to be on the safe side!”

“Safe side of WHAT there’s nothing THERE—?!”

“Leonardo…?” Dad said quietly. Leo’s stance faltered a little. “It’s alright, my son, I promise. Nothing will hurt you.”

Leo’s grip on his swords tensed and untensed a few times. “Dad, it’s— it’s looking at me—”

“Let it. It will not hurt you. I won’t let it. You’re safe, I’ll make sure of it.”

There was a pause where nobody did anything. The Krang was uncharacteristically silent as it twitched on Leo’s shoulder, tentacles over its eyes and face pressed into his neck so it wouldn’t see things. Usually, it would’ve sneered something about “weakness” or how they were all pathetic by now.

Slowly, glancing between Dad and the nothing in the doorway the entire time, Leo sheathed his swords.

Dad smiled encouragingly, gesturing at Leo to bend down, arms open. Leo haltingly moved to sit on the floor, and Dad wrapped his arms around him.

“There we are. See? Everything is fine. ”

(Dad had a much stronger stomach than Raph, that was for sure. The hug was putting him much closer to the Krang than Raph would’ve ever been comfortable with. Even looking at it made him feel oogy.)

The whole episode lasted another forty-five minutes, give or take. Dad talked Leo down from every hallucination he went through from where they sat together on the floor. Raph, Donnie, and Mikey slid into seats around them, waiting it out. They couldn’t really do anything, or at least nothing that Dad wasn’t already doing just fine on his own, but still, like… moral support. Besides, it wasn’t like any of them would be able to go back to what they’d been respectively doing knowing their brother was tweaking out in the kitchen.

The Krang didn’t add anything else. Thankfully. If it had said something to make Leo spaz any more than he already was, Raph would’ve gone and gotten his hand-wrap tape and wrapped it around its mouth until it couldn’t even get a squeak out. It’d shut the thing up, but also wouldn’t hurt Leo any. Everyone would win.

Eventually, Leo announced that the insane colors he was seeing were slowly fading back to normal, and Raph just about collapsed with relief. Bad enough one of them was stuck with ONE patch…

Dad helped him back to his room, instructing him to rest a bit until the bleach had definitely worked its way out of his system. Once they were out of earshot, Raph turned to Donnie.

“Hey,” he said, “what are the odds that once we get that thing out of Leo’s shell, he’ll go back to normal?” Then, realizing that was vague, he tried, “D’ya think he’ll always be allergic or whatever to bleach now?”

Donnie shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “…you still see shrimp colors after your encounter with the Krang, and that was three years ago…”

Raph felt his expression crumble, and he sighed. He’d been afraid of that…

---

Leo collapsed on his bed. His head was full of thoughts that felt like cotton and he was woozy as all get-out, so he took his pillow and held it over his face. He needed a break from seeing things for a little while. That was fair, right?

His plans for training had been well and truly shot in the foot for the day, because, as it turned out? Insane hallucinations when you’re already tired kiiiiinda sucked the life straight outta ya. Who’da thunk. He’d have to try again tomorrow.

This begged the question as to what he’d do with what was left of today, but he’d decided he could figure that out lying down with his eyes covered.

“Never again,” Krang groaned from his shoulder. “Under no circumstances are you to ever put us in contact with that substance moving forward, understand me?”

Leo couldn’t help but feel that, under normal circumstances, Krang would’ve pulled back into his shell by now. He was too tired to muster up more than a sense of “yeah, fair,” at the fact that he hadn’t. Considering.

Besides, he was too busy being annoyed at his comment: “I literally didn’t do it on purpose, Uno. I didn’t know bleach would cause us to freak-out, I told you that.”

“Stay away from all chemicals moving forward,” Krang insisted, presumably just because he needed to have the last word on everything. “At least until we’ve properly separated – you can get as ‘zooted’ as you like once I’m gone.”

The snort Leo gave was one part derisive, and one part genuine. He was tired and his guard was down, and it was objectively funny to hear an alien warlord-cube say “zooted,” okay? Sue him.

Neither of them said anything for a little while. Leo stared at the back of his pillow, while Krang lay curled into a ball against the crook of his neck. Nobody was around to witness him doing this, which made it a little suspect (hard to gain sympathy-points when the only guy around was in on the scam), but y’know what, sure, okay. It wasn’t like they ever really went a moment without touching, so really where was the line? Leo’d accept whatever meant the least amount of complaining.

He could just fall asleep again, honestly. Sheesh, the lazy-gene must be hereditary (no offense, Dad, love you). Dad and his bros had shuffled him off once it was clear he wasn't as risk of somehow hurting himself, telling him to go chill and get his feet back under him. Leo appreciated it.

His brothers and dad were out there, coming down from probably being scared shitless, and he was lounging around in his room, about to take a nap. Sweet setup, right? Not selfish at all. Didn’t make him seem helpless in the slightest. He definitely hadn’t made an ass of himself in the process of getting to this moment or anything. Maybe he should tell Krang “thank you” sometime – thanks to him it felt like everything around here was all about Leo lately—

“So EARLIER you said you know what ‘fuck’ means – that mean it’s something Krang actually do?”

…sure. Sure. Why not. Let’s talk about this. Leo decided to blame it on still being a little high.

There was a pause where Leo could feel himself being given a Look of abject confusion. If he could be bothered to move the pillow off his face (which he couldn’t), he felt confident he’d be able to see question marks and algebraic equations floating above Krang’s gummy little head.

Then Krang suddenly exhaled, and Leo heard him bring his tentacles up to rub at his own face tiredly.

“How do you think Krang reproduce if not by that, Pest?”

Leo threw out his hands, pillow still balanced on top of his face. “I dunno! Grow more? Like you’re doing on me right now? Or pump other species full of your Krang-gunk until they count as one? Don’t act like I’m asking a dumb question here!”

“…conceded, however: The only time Krang grow off of other beings is during a parasite/host situation. It’s only possible for existing Krang to accomplish this, not new ones. And while assimilating lesser species as you’re describing infinitely improves them, they don’t count as true Krang. The only way to create more is through copulation.”

“…so— how do you guys do it? Not to be rude or anything but you don’t got a lot goin’ on down there – or… anywhere I can see, really – so I mean—?”

“Two Krang pair up, they establish which of the partnership is stronger. The weaker partner presents their hectocotylus tentacle to the stronger partner, the stronger inserts it into their ovipore, which typically only emerges during mating season. Roughly a year later the spawn eat their way out of their parent.” Grumpily, Krang shot back, “How does your kind ‘do it’?”

…that was a way more sterile, way less awkward explanation than Leo had been expecting. Privately, Leo shot Krang a kudo-point for being way more mature about it than he would’ve been. (Which, like, even he would admit that wasn’t hard, but the fact that he’d been relatively chill about it too was also something of note.)

Sadly, Leo was stopped from matching his maturity (or answering his question at all, honestly) by the absolute clusterfuck of horrifying information he’d just dropped.

“Hold up, could you— um, could you rewind for a second??”

Krang huffed into his neck. “Oh, what?”

‘WHAT’ he says—

“Well, getting the big one out of the way: You said the ‘spawn’ EAT their way out of the parent??”

“…yes? And?”

“Don’t sound BORED, that’s HORRIFYING!” Leo gestured at nothing. “So— what, is having kids like a one-and-done for you guys?? You do it once and then you die—?”

“Krang are not so weak as to be killed by their own young, Pest,” Krang scoffed. “The hormones produced at birth accelerate our ability to heal, and the wound closes up quick enough. The spawn emerging does not kill us.”

A pause, and then he conceded. “It’s exactly as painful as you might expect, though…”

“…you say that like you’ve done it…”

Ooh, Leo could feel the glare Krang just gave him. “I have carried spawn for every mating season I’ve experienced since I was eligible for them, Pest. I told you – the stronger partner is the one to take the other’s hectocotylus, and that was, unfailingly, me.”

Well count Leo’s flabbers as utterly ghasted.

“You have kids—?!”

—had. He had kids. All the other Krang besides his sister were gonezo. Hooooough boy—

Panicking, because generally speaking calling attention to someone having kids before, when they didn’t anymore, never ever led to good feelings, Leo blurted, “What’s a hecktal— um, heck-hectolococolo—”

“Hectocotylus. It’s the tentacle that’s used to inseminate a mate.” He lifted his middle tentacle on the right just slightly. “This one, to be exact.”

…alright see now they were getting to the awkward parts! Good to know Leo could still screw himself over by talking too much, he was starting to worry he’d actually grown as an individual or something!

“…how’s it do that?” If Krang described anything even comparable to what Leo was used to, he was gonna have a conniption. Because that would basically mean that whenever he was out sitting on Leo’s shoulder, he was touching him with his— neeeuuughhhhh…

Krang tilted his head, bumping the side of it against Leo’s as he thought. “I can’t quite recall what the technical term for it is – sturmaphore? Spamataphore? Oh well – the hectocotylus becomes imbued with Krangs’ fertilizing agent during the mating period. The tentacle is removed, given to the parent chosen to carry the young, then shredded and absorbed upon insertion. A new hectocotylus will grow back within a few months after removing the old.”

“Does… does removing it hurt?”

“No. The hectocotylus is numb— well. Not completely, it’s capable of tactile sensation, but nothing beyond that.” A moment passed, but he must’ve felt Leo’s confusion through their link, because he added, “I can feel when it touches things, and direct it as precisely as I can any of the rest of my tentacles, but it doesn’t experience pleasure or pain. Just… pressure, I suppose.”

Okay. Okay. That was different enough. Leo could make peace with that. It being numb also definitely helped the acceptance process. Kind of a bummer for the Krangs of yore that lost the coin flip and had to give up their hecto-tentacle-thingy rather than get one – no fun allowed for them, apparently. But eyy not Leo’s problem!

…it retrospect, it was really in-character that this guy had made a point to always take someone’s tentacle rather than give his, wasn’t it?

“…and… you said your— whatever you called it, your sex-hole – shreds it…?”

“Correct.”  

“Like… with teeth?? Do you guys have teeth down there?”

“…yes?” Krang said slowly. “Do you not have…?”

JESus Christ—

“Nnnope! Not that I’m aware!!”

“…oh.” A beat. “Do you use some sort of acidic secretion, then—?”

“The thing we usually put in other people stays attached – no shredding, no melting, no any of that!!”

The pillow was very suddenly ripped off Leo’s face. “What do you mean it stays ATTACHED?!”

Leo didn’t respond. With the pillow gone, he could see a humanoid clock (that was, a clock with arms and legs and a literal face behind its clock-hands) doing the dance routine to Gaga’s Bad Romance. Which, obviously, demanded the greater portion of his attention.

“Yes, that’s happening over there,” Krang said, somewhere between irritated and just tired. “I’ve been trying to ignore it and hope it’s another hallucination.”

“It’s looking at me…” Leo said, staring back.

Krang took Leo’s face between his front-most tentacles and turned his head to look at him.

“Don’t make eye-contact, Pest,” he advised.

Yeah, it was all well and good to say that, but Leo could see the clock menacingly dancing closer out of the corner of his eye. Telling himself Krang was probably (hopefully) right and it was just another hallucination, he slowly maneuvered himself into bed, then pulled the blankets up over both his and Krang’s heads. Krang let go of his face once he did.

“So is it like… a paper-shredder kind of situation with you guys?” Leo asked, darkly fascinated in spite of himself. “Do the teeth chew up the tentacle as you feed it in? Has to be something like that, right? I mean what in the True Facts About the Duck, how else would it all fit—?”

“Excuse me? ‘True facts about the—’? What is that?”

Leo froze. He blinked. There was an opportunity here. A bad one, but it was there. Did he dare…?

Leo poked his head out from under the blanket just enough to snatch up his phone from its spot on the floor (the clock was standing directly over him, still dancing, whatever, just ignore it, not real not real—), then quickly ducked back in. The grin was probably unnecessary, but he couldn’t help it.

He always dared, or at least he did when he was under the influence. If it went bad he’d blame the bleach.

“Dubble-Bubble, you’re gonna learn today…”

Notes:

Thank you to Wig yet again for helping me out with what exactly Leo and Uno would be hallucinating during their trip. You can thank her for pretty much all of that section.

And True Facts About the Duck will come back later, sort of, or at least the information disclosed in it will. Frighteningly.

Chapter 15: Failed Detectives

It had been a little over a month since the incident wherein Krang and his host had gotten “zooted.” Things in the interim had been comparatively peaceful, surprisingly.

There had been an incident where a human in a trashy earthling-version of a mechsuit had attacked his host and co. while they were above ground, but that was the extent of it. None of the four had seemed especially phased by the event. Displeased, certainly, but they’d honestly been more worried about being late to pick up the food they’d ordered. The mad human trying to grind them into the pavement had been a secondary concern.

Considering they’d faced Krang (in proper mechsuits, thank you) and managed to survive, it made sense they weren’t especially worried about a mere human. It probably helped that they’d ultimately defeated it with disgusting ease. It had presumed victory after landing a single solid hit on the group, and then turned to address a drone, which had apparently been filming the encounter. Krang’s host and his brothers moved as one to dispatch it while it was encouraging the drone to “subscribe and donate!”  (whatever that meant).

They left it, enraged and ranting, in a pile of broken mechsuit bits (Krangs’ mechsuits would never be destroyed so easily), and hurried off to collect their food. And that was that.

Of course, this encounter begged the question as to why they were so intent on defending humans, considering there was apparently no love lost between them, but Krang had long since given up trying to understand their nonsensical decision-making process. Unendingly, there was no logic in this place. From anyone present.

So far, the plan to become enough of a presence in his enemies’ lives so as to decrease his perceived threat-level was going swimmingly. He had made a point of being outside of his host’s shell whenever they were in mixed company over the last few weeks. The company in question were all still anywhere from insolently dismissive to openly hostile when they addressed him directly, but for the most part their attention skated over him to settle on his host. Rude and impertinent, but them talking to his host as though things were “normal” assuaged a portion of his anxieties (or at least, assuaged that portion). Which was the whole point anyway.

Krang’s host had started regularly offering him food shortly after beginning this venture. Pointlessly, considering Krang would end up taking the nutrients he needed one way or another, but he was far from displeased with the new routine he’d set. He didn’t need to eat, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the simple act of consuming food until the opportunity to do so again was presented to him.

Moreover, when it was discovered Krang had developed a newfound ability to dream, his host had gone out of his way to divert his attention from it. Least he could do, honestly, considering it was his fault it was an issue to begin with, but that was also beside the point. Over the last few weeks, the venom with which he’d previously spoken to Krang was all but absent in their day-to-day interactions.

It was comforting to know that, for all the suspicion and hostility his host had felt towards him, he was still falling sway under Krang’s machinations. If he kept up at this rate, the rest of the group would likely fall in behind him as well. Even if all it amounted to was them ignoring him, it meant they’d leave themselves wide open to attack when Krang finally split from his host, just as he intended. His host’s consequent revelations of how thoroughly he’d allowed himself to be fooled would make his inevitable demise that much sweeter.

…the thought wasn’t offering the joy it ought to be. This was a reoccurring problem. Imagining his host in deserved agony used to be the only thing that could give him even a modicum of comfort, but now… Oh well. It was likely just because he was acutely aware that his host’s agony would also be his at this point. That would probably evaporate once they’d separated…

His host mumbled a sleep-soaked “good morning” to him when he first crawled out of his shell for the day. Krang muttered back an indistinct, groggy greeting of his own. His host then proceeded to roll to the edge of the bed, and slap the floor a few times.

“Did you take my phone again?” he slurred, not opening his eyes.

Krang huffed. “It’s under your pillow, Pest.”

“Mmmkaythanks.”

On the day Krang and his host had come into contact with that wretched bleach slurry, his host had filled the remainder of time they were under its influence by showing him “informational” videos on wildlife. Krang had surmised long ago that his host’s mini-screen was capable of a variety of functions, and was more than able to hold his otherwise short attention-span. He hadn’t realized the extent of what it could do until that instance, however. He’d since been educated.

He’d also since made a habit of commandeering the device when the all-encompassing boredom started gnawing at his frontal lobe.

(Alternatively, his host would pass it to him when he wanted him to be quiet. Which was unforgivably insulting, but since Krang wasn’t yet in a position to retaliate against him for it, he’d simply accept the phone and watch a video or read an article about whatever.)

Which: Circling back to the “informational” videos: Ducks were abominations and Krang’s host was demented for showing him them.

For starters, the length of its sex-organ was inexcusable, considering the size of the rest of its body. Krang, as with everything, had maximized efficiency by evolving to have the part of them used for insemination also function as an extra limb. It made sense, therefore, for it to be of a length that was proportional to their other tentacles. Ducks, on the other hand, measured at about 20~ inches in length (they had looked it up), and had an attachment that was nearly half their body length, and was only good for ONE thing.

Also, “explosive”? And then, more pressingly, BARBS?? The organ designed to go inside another one of its kind had barbs on it?? Were ducks the inverse of Krang, and their ovipore-equivalent was what was numb??

The creatures were also apparently vulgar enough as to force themselves on whatever prospective mates they could get, any prospective mates. Which was another black mark on Krang’s opinions of them. If the chosen partner was so weak as to be forced, why would one want to mate with them in the first place? It was disgusting. And according to the video Krang’s host had shown him, it was commonplace for ducks to do this. What a waste of time.

(A pointless thing to hold against them, perhaps, given they were of lesser worth than even humans, but Krang couldn’t help it. How had they not gone extinct yet?)

Finally, they were ugly. …end point.

He was, however, vaguely triumphant about the revelation that their organ fell off after mating. His host balking at Krangs’ mating practices had held the implication that nothing similar existed on earth. Clearly, while it might not be the case for his host or his ilk specifically, it wasn’t completely true across the board. “Stays attached” indeed.

It… did make Krang vaguely curious as to how some of the other species of this planet differed from each other. There was a wider margin between one to the other than he’d initially believed. He’d never felt especially curious about the lifeforms on the planets the Krang had assimilated before (his distaste for humans and all who stood with them, paired with one-thousand years of rotting in the prison dimension hadn’t exactly helped, either), but… well honestly, it wasn’t like he had much else to do.

As his host pushed himself into a sitting position on his bed, rubbing at his eyes, he said, “Alright, whaddya want for breakfast, Uno?”

“One of those… berry things,” Krang responded after a moment’s consideration.

“Think you could be a little more specific?” his host asked, stretching a bit before standing.

“The rectangles.”

“Berry rectangles— you want a Poptart?”

“Yes.”

“M’kay.” As they were heading towards the base’s meal-prep station (Krang had heard the word “kichen” tossed around a few times, so fine – the kichen), he added, “Have something else with it though, yeah? I’m starving, do your part. I’m not getting fat for you.”

Krang rolled his eyes, but offered no comment.

His host’s brothers were already in the kichen when they got there, discussing things that were inconsequential and beneath Krang’s notice. They noticed his host approaching (their eyes flicked to Krang like they always did when he was out of his host’s shell, which was about all the acknowledgement he got), and then Michael and Donaldtello started speaking to him, presumably dragging him into the discussion they’d been having previously.

Only Michael and Donaldtello continued speaking.

Small addendum to Krang’s earlier point: Not all of his host’s companions were willing to try to ignore his existence at present. Raphael was persistently, ungratefully hostile at all times. One would think someone who’d felt the full influence of the Krang would understand the benefits of assimilation, but oh well. Once again: No logic to be found here.

Raphael glared at Krang as his host dug around for the pop-tart box and made small talk with the other two. Krang very pointedly didn’t glare back.

And then Apriloneil burst into the room.

“Guys!” she cried. “You free today? I need your help!”

She didn’t seem especially distressed. If anything, she seemed eager. So whatever “help” she needed, it likely wasn’t anything especially dire. Which, going off of previous experience, was presumably why none of the four leapt to defensive-action.

Instead, his host said, “Can’t speak for these guys but I’m free as a bird. Whatcha need?”

In response, Apriloneil whipped out a wad of paper from behind her back, slapping it down on the surface his host’s brothers sat around.

“Who’s selling actual newspapers nowadays??” his host asked incredulously, joining them. The paper had “SPINE-BREAKING BANDIT RESURFACES” splashed across the front.

“Where and what is the spine again?” Krang muttered to his host as the rest skimmed the article in front of them. He knew it was a bone… thing, but that was about the extent of it. His best guess was it had something to do with the leg.

“In the back,” his host muttered back. (Drat. Not even close.) “It’s like… the bone-rope that keeps us upright and lets us bend and stuff.”

“I assume it’s other humans’ spines this person is breaking, rather than their own?” Krang mused rather than say anything about how wrong he’d been. Then, mildly approving, “That’s unexpectedly gruesome for a human…”

As everyone else finished reading, Apriloneil asked, “You guys been keeping tabs on this at all? You know what his whole deal is?”

“He takes out two or three – or five, that one time – victims over the course of around a week, and then disappears for like a year or so,” Michael supplied instantly. “Been doing it for about eight years now.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. She had a look of fiery determination in her eye that Krang had only seen before on his sister. He looked away. “He’s back and makin’ his rounds again!”

“M’kay, weird level of excitement happening here…” his host said, staring at her, arms crossed and one hip cocked to the side. “Are you happy about this?”

“Yeah—! I mean, not about him hurting people or anything, but this is my shot!” She made a fist in front of her, as if physically manifesting her resolve and enthusiasm into a gesture. “My bosses want follow-ups? I’ll do ’em one better – I’m bouta blow this case wide open!!”

She suddenly deflated, rubbing the back of her neck. “Except, see, problem is that even if I do crack the case, even if I do all the legwork and gather all the evidence and info, there’s still a pretty big chance that my bosses will give the story to a more… seasoned reporter?” She sighed. “One with an established fanbase? To, y’know, maximize ratings?”

She turned to look at the four, leaning her upper body across the surface in front of her and clasping her hands together, some combination of faux-wistful and outright pleading. “But if someone else cracks the case, and then says they’ll only share their story with one Ms. April O’Neil…”

“Then you’d be guaranteed that no one’s gonna snatch your story out from under you,” Krang’s host finished, understanding. Then, “When you say ‘share their story,’ do you mean you’d be interviewing us on TV?”

“Y—”

“I’m in.”

Apriloneil cheered, popping up from where she’d draped herself. She then swung herself over to slide across it to get to Krang’s host on the other side. Once there, she threw her arms around him. Krang only just barely resisted the instinct to cry “how dare you!” shove her away or worse. Evidently the human was falling for his ruse the hardest, and had become very acclimated to his presence.

And then she did something strange. She… well, at first he thought she was trying to bite his host’s face. Considering the distinct lack of pain from the action, she was being very ineffectual about it, if that’s what she was doing. So apparently she was just… mashing her mouth to his cheek?

What??

It was a quick action – a second long, if that – and then she turned to face the rest of the group, one arm still around Krang’s host’s shoulder. He had to shift slightly so her hand wasn’t brushing against his tentacles. Donaldtello and Raphael seemed intensely uncomfortable at the close proximity in which she’d put herself to him (he and you both, boys).

“What about you guys? You in? Breakfast is on me if you come with!”

“I could go for breakfast!” chirped Michael. “McMuffins and hash browns, or were you thinking a diner somewhere?”

“Up to you guys.”

Discussions of where to eat arose, at which point Krang’s host ducked back to his bedroom to grab his swords (both for potential transport and “just in case”). Krang was halfway to protesting when his host produced a silver pop-tart packet from seemingly nowhere. He tried very hard not to look too boggled by its seemingly random appearance in his hand, but the smug look on his host’s face told him he’d failed.

Tearing open the wrapper, he demanded, “When did you grab this? And where were you keeping it? Your hands were free a moment ago!”

“Sleight of hand, Cuddlelumps,” his host returned, sounding proud. “Trade secret.”

Well, Krang had no idea what that meant, but just as well. He had a pop-tart because of it.

Breaking off a piece and popping it into his mouth (his host reached over and did the same), he asked, the question re-occurring to him, “What was going on with Apriloneil? Why did she press her mouth to—?”

“UGH, don’t make it weird,” his host burst, stopping mid-step and slumping. “She’s like my sister, okay? It was totally innocent!”

It— Wh— HUH?

“I wanted to know if she was trying to eat you or something!” Krang insisted, monstrously confused. “What does being like your sister have to do with anything?? Is cannibalism only taboo on earth if siblings partake in it??”

“…oh. Oh. No, I— I thought you were gonna be annoying and pull some sort of ‘sO aRe YoU tWo DaTiNg??’ –thing with that, it’s usually what happens when people who don’t know the situation see a guy and a girl be like… y’know, affectionate.

“So, okay, um… that was a kiss. It’s like… you like someone, right? Like you’re close to them and everything? Pressing your lips to… well their face, usually, pressing your lips to them is a way to show they mean a lot to you. Orrr to say ‘thanks,’ like what April did.” Then, a little firmly, “It’s completely and totally friendly and a perfectly normal thing to do with your friends if you’re close enough. Which me and April are, so again, don’t make it weird.”

Resuming his walk towards his room, his host added, “Neither of us are each other’s types, put it that way.”

Krang couldn’t make heads or tails of that last comment, or what it had to do with being “friends.” Rather than ponder the inanity of earthling relationships, he busied himself with his pop-tart.

---

“Don’t you have like… a newsperson-card for this kind of thing…?” Raph asked quietly, carefully lifting a sofa so he could look under it. Nothing there but crumbs and some gum wrappers.

“I have a press pass, yeah,” April said, inspecting the window sill for signs of forced entry, “but that’s only for like… interviews and stuff, not for inspecting crime scenes.”

Leo took a book off a shelf to rifle through it, like a detective would, hoping something would dramatically fall out and turn the whole investigation around. Then he remembered that they were dealing with a serial robber, and probably not someone the victim knew. And if they didn’t know them, why would they leave secret hidden clues that could indicate how they knew their attacker? So it didn’t make a lot of sense to look for something like that.

He slid the book back onto the shelf.

“What exactly are you all doing, again?” Krang asked from Leo’s shoulder in an undertone.

“Looking for evidence,” Leo explained, now glancing around and trying not to look like he was at a loss for what to do next.

Krang’s expression scrunched as he looked around with him (though if Leo had to guess, it was more out of “what are you even looking at right now??” rather than trying to look busy or anything). “Evidence such as…?”

“Y’know, like—something suspicious.”

“Mhm. ‘Suspicious’ like the group who just broke into a former crime-scene, do you mean?”

Now Leo’s expression scrunched.

Despite being fired up to catch the Spine-Breaking Bandit, it quickly came out over breakfast that April didn’t really have much of a starting point. She had what had been released to the public, which wasn’t a lot. In fact, what had been released mostly just boiled down to, “hey everyone, this happened.” Because she was working for a news outlet, rather than the police or any other sort of legitimate detective service, she couldn’t exactly go around asking people for details to get any sort of a lead.

Which is what found them here: They’d broken into the SBB’s most recent victim’s apartment, going over it with a fine-toothed comb in search of anything that could indicate who the Bandit might be, or where they might’ve gone after bandit-ing. The owner of the apartment was a single man who lived alone, and who was presently still in the hospital thanks to all the spine-breaking.

This was the pattern for the SBB – all their victims had been male, so far, and they tended to lived alone. There was one exception from two years ago, where the guy’d had a roommate. The roommate had been left unharmed, and hadn’t even realized their apartment had gotten broken into until they heard the victim screaming in pain two rooms over. The SBB escaped out the window before the roommate even made it to the room the victim was in, taking a PS5 and a class ring with them.

The latest victim’s entire apartment wasn’t big. One bed, one bath, combined kitchen and living space. They’d already gone through the whole thing for absolutely anything that could be traced back to their mystery bandit, three times. Each try had come up empty.

“Wouldn’t the police have collected anything the Bandit left behind by now?” Mikey asked, staring probingly at the dust-imprint on the TV stand where a TV was no longer. “Especially considering he doesn’t typically leave any evidence? You’d think they’d jump on it if he did, for once…”

April sighed. “Probably, but I wanted to come in and look around for myself first before just writing it off. The only other place I could think to find an actual starting point was the police precinct itself, which would, y’know, have a lot more people we’d need to sneak around. So that’s Plan B if we don’t find anything here.”

“You’re both forgetting that the police didn’t have me with them,” Donnie put in, going over to the sill April had apparently deemed unhelpful. He used the metal grabbers from his battle-shell to swab it with some whatchamacallit crime-chemical or somethingsomething. As soon as they’d gotten what they apparently needed, the grabbers retracted back into his shell. “After all, what is crime-scene forensics if not science?”

There was a soft whirring sound, and then paper was spat out near the top of the shell. Donnie snatched it, skimmed over the results, and—

“—ah, never mind, it came back blank, there’s nothing here.”

April sighed again, falling onto the couch Raph had just set back down. “Guess I shoulda seen that coming… this was a longshot anyway…”

She seemed so sad.

Leo went to sit next to her, resting a hand on her knee. “Hey, it was a good place to start! And we can totally hit up the police precinct, that’s a solid Plan B! I can portal us in, you can do a quick snoop for whatever info you might need, and then I’ll portal us out before anyone even realizes we were there!”

“If the ‘police’ were the ones attempting all the shooting during the invasion, I’m liking your odds even if they do realize you’re there,” Krang muttered.

“…see?” Leo said bracingly, deciding to take it as a weird compliment (it… hadn’t been an outright insult, at least?). “We even got Krang-a-Rang’s vote of confidence! We got this!”

April was giving them both befuddled looks, apparently on the same page as Leo in the book of “Was That Supposed to be Genuine, or Did He Just Take a Shot?” After presumably deciding the comment was inoffensive enough, she looked away, chewing her lip for a second.

“…it’d be a real bad idea to try to sneak in to the precinct right now,” she said slowly. “Even if we’re portalling in and out, it’d still be crawling with police – it’s the middle of the day. We’d need to go in after dark to—”

“Hold up,” Raph interrupted. “You’re seriously thinking of trying to sneak evidence from the police? I thought that was a joke – that’s gotta be at least five different kinds of illegal.”

“We’re having this conversation in an apartment we broke into, Raph,” April said flatly. “Little late to be worrying about that, don’tcha think?”

“It’s— that’s different! This ain’t hurting anyone, or getting in anyone’s way! No one’ll even know we were here by the time we leave—”

“You’re assuming he doesn’t have security cameras set up,” Donnie pointed out, fiddling with his phone unconcernedly.

Everyone turned to stare at him, horror dawning. Realizing he was being given looks, he looked up.

“He doesn’t,” he said (everyone drooped in relief), “I ran a scan of the apartment for radio waves. Even if he did, could’ve disabled them remotely, I told you guys I could do that before.”

“Anyway,” Raph pressed on, “the punishment for breaking into a police department to mess with evidence for a years’ long case is gonna be a lot steeper than what it’d be for a B&E. You could end up losing your job, April – never mind catching a break with it.”

April stared at him a second longer, clearly flailing mentally for a counterpoint, then slumped, her head falling on Leo’s shoulder dejectedly.

Raph meant well, and he definitely had a point, but Leo, Donnie, and Mikey all sent him a “NOW look what you did!” semi-glare anyway. It was the principle of the thing.

“I’m sorry, April,” Raph said, sending the three of them a “what was I supposed to do?!” look back.

April sighed a third time, lifting her head from the shoulder Krang wasn’t sitting on and pushing herself to her feet. “Like I said, this was a longshot anyway. Least we can say we gave it a try…” Slapping a sad smile onto her face, she asked, “Since I know you guys are free today, you wanna hang out a little longer? Maybe help me brainstorm some new story ideas, since there’s not really anywhere I can take this one?”

Nobody had any objections; everyone was quick to jump on the concept of coming up with something new she could impress her bosses with. They portalled out of the apartment and into the alleyway behind it all chattering their ideas. The tone was a little somber despite the forced energy.

Slight problem: As they walked, still pitching ideas, Leo had the sense they were being watched.

He stopped abruptly before they got to the end of the alley. Krang, who’d gone back into his shellpack as soon as they were back outside, tossed up a “what’s wrong?” as everyone else stopped to look at him questioningly. No sooner had they done this, and two large shapes flipped and tumbled down to ground level from the fire-escapes above them. They landed in front of them, striking a pose and blocking their path.

“Oh, it’s… you guys,” Mikey said, raising a brow.

The Sando Brothers flexed theatrically, one standing balanced in the other’s claw. To be perfectly honest, Leo was a little surprised to see them. He’d thought they’d moved. Or died tragically in a totally preventable accident (they seemed like the type).

“It is us!” the bald one confirmed. As though if he didn’t they might get confused and genuinely think they’d mistaken them for a different pair of crab brothers. “Miss us?”

“Not really,” Mikey said.

“Nuh-uh,” said Raph.

“Negative,” Donnie sighed.

“I don’t think we’ve actually met…?” April pointed out.

“I genuinely forgot you were on our rogues’ gallery roster until this exact moment,” said Leo.

They both deflated a little, looking confused.

“But— wait, aren’t you here to stop us?”

Apparently it was the day for circus antics – there were the former acrobats over on that end of the alley, and everyone on this side was juggling around confused looks. After a second, they turned back to the crustaceans across from them.

“Stop you from doing what?” Raph asked.

“We’re gonna rob the apartment that just got hit?” said the one with hair, the one Big Mama had chained to Leo when she’d taken over New York.

A beat.

“You’re gonna rob the apartment that just ‘got hit’ by the Spine-Breaking Bandit?” April confirmed.

“Yeah!” said Baldy. “No one’s gonna be in it right now, right? Because the guy’s spine is broken? So it’s the perfect time!”

Leo was ashamed by how much of their logic mirrored his family’s logic for why they should jump on the opportunity to look for clues…

“So, wait…” he said, flipping over the puzzle pieces and starting to get snippets of the main picture, “you guys came here to commit a crime. Saw us – who’ve kinda made it known that we stop crimes – walking away from where you want to commit your crime. You decided that us leaving must mean that we’re here to stop you. But instead of just, y’know, letting us leave, you jumped down to let us know you were here?”

“…yeah?” said Hairy, visibly not grasping what was wrong with their plan.

(“Where do you find these people??” Krang hissed up at Leo, exasperated.)

“Anyway, doesn’t matter: Get claw-bered!”

“Hey, you’ve used that dumb pun before—!”

Leo was cut off by the multiple claws being launched at everyone at rapid speeds and frequencies, and ducked out of the way. Somehow, he managed to be the only one who didn’t get hit.

Ugh, this was annoying. Maybe it was just the disappointment-by-proxy he was picking up from April, but Leo was aggressively not in the mood for this. Probably didn’t help that his swords wouldn’t do much against these guys – they would just glance off their stupid shells. And because they were acrobats, trying to get a portal under them to just shoot them somewhere else would be more work than it was worth.

Maybe if he portalled behind them fast enough he could get one of his swords into the spaces where the shell-pieces met? They were mostly at the joints, and neither of them really had necks. They just had open spots between their heads and their shoulders/chests where you could make out softer meat. Failing that, he could always go for the classic and go for the eyes. Maybe he could try to maneuver them in between one of the fire-escape ladders, and crack their shells open…?

Well, he wasn’t gonna come up with something standing all the way over here!

The others were still trying to pry the projectile claws off various parts of themselves, so Leo took point while they pulled themselves together. He moved forward quickly, but entered a portal before getting especially close. He came out behind them in time to hear, “heywait, what—?”

Apparently, Leo had over-estimated the two. His expectation of them actually using their acrobatic abilities fell completely flat, and rather than even try to move and make themselves less like targets they instead stayed in their stupid poses looking around for him like idiots. Which, in Leo’s defense, he’d really only directly fought-fought these guys like… twice. When he was fourteen. Why wouldn’t he assume they’d be able to match what he was used to fighting now?

Just as well – made his life a lot easier. He swept the leg of the one holding up the other out from beneath him from behind, then rolled out of the way as they both came crashing to the ground. They tried to spring back up, the one closest to him tried to grab him, so Leo swung his leg up to kick him in the chest so hard he went flying back several paces, landing on his back and yelping loudly. Leo then used the hilt of one of his swords as a blunt object and caught the other in the face, sending him back to the ground and making a loud crunch echo down the alleyway.

The one he’d sent flying was charging him. Leo ducked under his grab, rotated, took hold of the back of his head, and slammed it into the corner of a nearby dumpster a few times in quick succession, then let him drop. The second one came back, diving at him, so Leo hopped backwards into a freshly formed portal, leaving him to grab at air. He came out on top of one of the fire-escape railings, and jumped down, driving the heel of his foot into his shoulder and driving him to the pavement again.

(He’d decided against trying to get his sword into a joint or neck or eye. They were small targets, and honestly the situation wasn’t dire enough to warrant the effort it would take to hit them properly.)

They both lay on the ground, one on top of the other, in a groaning heap. Well, they definitely weren’t about to backflip away now…

Leo opened a portal directly beneath them, dropping them in Staten Island’s harbor. That was that done, at least. He turned to look back at his brothers and April.

“Everyone good?” Leo asked, glancing over them as he sheathed his swords. From what he could see, they had all finished prying claws off themselves.

“Yeah,” April said, rubbing the wrist that’d had a crab-claw pinched around it a second ago. “Little sore, but nothing we haven’t done a million times before.”

Mikey and Donnie gave similar responses, though each ran slightly more optimistic and more cynical, respectively. It was decided after a bit of back and forth that they could continue brainstorming back at the Lair, lest any more random enemies from the days of yore be waiting to ambush them in the next alley.

Leo opened another portal, and everyone hopped through. Before he could cross over himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey Leo, um,” Raph started, “are you good?”

And then Leo felt oddly uncomfortable.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“I mean… you seemed really intense during that fight.”

“’Intense’?”

“Yeah, like… you had a real serious look on your face. And then when you were smacking the guy’s head against the dumpster—”

“Hey, they started it! Not any different than blitzing us with claws! Those suckers hurt!” He forced a smile. “And what can I say? Been working on my game-face recently, you like?”

He shrugged off Raph’s hand as smoothly as he was able to. “C’mon, everyone else is gonna start wondering what’s keeping us…”

He stepped through the portal, ignoring how Raph’s line of sight settled on his shellpack.

---

Krang’s host was having ~strong emotions~ again. For once, Krang found it perfectly reasonable.

And, for once, Krang felt confident he knew the source of it.

The group had been waylaid by two enemies. His host had summarily deflected and defeated them. Raphael, for whatever reason, rather than commending his host, or else simply staying quiet, had criticized – of all things – his attitude whilst he’d done it. Or, at least, that’s how it had seemed to Krang. He hadn’t had anything specific to nitpick, so he’d settled on his host’s bearing while he’d worked.

His host unceremoniously dropped his swords at the end of his bed once they were safely in their room, and then asked without preamble, “Hey Uno? You still open to listening to me vent, or is that strictly a ‘you have to wait until I throw the offer out there’ –kinda deal?”

Krang blinked. That was an unexpected (but welcome) surprise. Saved them both an annoying bit of back and forth, at least. Because unquestionably if his host was left to stew in this, it would only get worse, and Krang didn’t have the fortitude to deal with that.

“By all means,” he prompted.

“This is so dumb!” his host burst, evidently not needing any further encouragement. “I got the Crusty Brothers outta the way when they were messing with us!”

“You did,” Krang agreed.

“So why’s Raph acting like I went over to Todd’s and just started kicking anything that got too close?? Like that totally wasn’t called for, right?”

“I don’t know who ‘Todd’ is but yes, his response was completely uncalled for.”

“Yeah!! And I mean— I don’t want to be frustrated with Raph. There’s literally no point, he’s always been like this, he’s always gonna be like this, probably. This whole thing is just so so dumb. I’m being dumb, right? Actually don’t answer that, I don’t wanna hear it, but it’s like— goddammit, nothing I do is good enough for him!”

He gestured to one side, as if indicating one option. “I’m chill and trying to be fun during a fight, I’m ‘not taking things seriously enough,’” he gestured to the other side, “I’m focused, now I’m too ‘intense—’  what the hell does he want me to do?! Am I just not allowed to get told I did a good job ever?! I’m just—” He rubbed his face vigorously suddenly. “I’m over it, I’m so completely over it. I’ve been over it for years, but I can’t say anything about it because I’ve already proved him right—”

“Wait,” Krang cut in, “in what way have you proved him right?”

Krang had been about to point out that he’d dealt with the issue they’d faced quickly and efficiently, by himself, but apparently he’d already said the wrong thing. His host’s mood positively plummeted at the end of his last sentence.

“It’s… so, right before, um… you guys showed up, me and Raph had like… we were arguing, because he thought I wasn’t being serious enough about the whole bad-guy-stopping routine. I sorta blew him off, and then the Foot guys got the key to let you and your sibs out. And then I blew him off again trying to get it back when he called retreat, and he got captured.”

There was an added churning sensation in Krang’s core, undoubtedly originating from his host. His host rubbed his face again, much more tiredly this time. “And then after he got captured, I blew off everybody, and dragged us into a situation that nearly got everyone killed.” He gave a short, humorless laugh, finishing, “Dad had a point that it’d be stupid to have me lead anyone, I guess…”

“He said that?” Krang asked incredulously. Not because it seemed out of character for the rat (Krang couldn’t comment what was in or out of character for him; they weren’t exactly close), it was more… it was inaccurate.

All his host’s faults aside (and trust him, there were many), he’d still essentially orchestrated the downfall of the Krang. Raphael had initially wanted to retreat, and had then immediately fallen to Krang and his siblings when he wasn’t able to. Michael and Donaltello were next to useless; they had ultimately accomplished nothing on their own during the entire debacle. Loathsome as it was, his host was due a certain amount of acknowledgment here.

Acknowledgment his supposed “allies” were bluntly refusing him, it would seem.

His host moved towards his bed, fell sideways onto it, then curled into a ball. “I mean. Not exactly, but… You remember us mentioning that Shredder guy, right? So, right after we beat him – like, the night after, literally that same day – we’re all standing around with our Dad, he’s telling us what a great job we did, and then all of a sudden he points to me and goes, ‘hey Blue, you’re the leader now.’ Which we all had a big ‘WHAT?!’ moment over, but then after a second he starts laughing. He said—”

His host faltered. Krang waited.

“He said… ‘I’m kidding. That would be crazy, right? New York wouldn’t be standing after a day.’”

He put his hands to his face again, making a frustrated sound through gritted teeth. “It’s so stupid, I didn’t even want to be leader. I still don’t. I was legitly freaking out when he first said it, and anyway Raph woulda been crushed. And I’m all for getting zinged if it’s funny, but…

“The whole thing earlier when you first crawled out, when I couldn’t stop making jokes and making everyone else uncomfortable? Yeah. Lots of that right after that crack. I was being extra funny right up until you guys showed up. Which – again – stupid! That’s what made me and Raph start arguing, which I’m sure probably just looked like I was being a brat because Dad didn’t randomly decide I was leader, but it wasn’t like I could talk about what was actually happening, because what the hell could I even say about it? ‘Hey, so Dad made a joke about something I didn’t want anyway, now I’m upset about it!’ Like what?”

Krang’s stomach hurt. Maybe that was why his host had curled into a ball…                                 

“I’m not even all that good at being funny, so I don’t know why I try so much. Dad considers Donnie the funny one.” Another sound in the back of his throat, likely supposed to indicate something like a laugh. “Donnie’s the funny one, I’m just the joke. I guess that’s sorta poetic if you think about it for a second…”

He sighed. “Anyway, this is just a really long way to say Dad was right – the second I was in charge instead of Raph, New York basically blew up. And why I can’t really say anything about Raph making comments here and there.”

“New York did not ‘blow up,’ and furthermore it wouldn’t be here without you.”

The assertion had been sitting in Krang’s mouth, bitter and unpalatable, and it didn’t taste any better being spoken out loud. But it needed to be said, if only to stop the heavy, choking weight sitting in both their chests from completely crushing the pair of them. The truth of the statement didn’t improve its flavor any, but at least it spared Krang from needing to falsely pander to his host undeservedly.

His host shifted uncomfortably. “It wouldn’t have been in trouble in the first place if I hadn’t—”

“Did you specifically open the portal to let me and my siblings out?” Krang demanded. “From what I remember, it had been those foot-people. If they hadn’t gotten the key that day, are you implying they would have given up on ever getting it? Didn’t they say that freeing the Krang had been a prophecy within their clan or something? That sounds like something they would’ve continued to pursue, to me. If one of your brothers had been the one to slip up and allow them to take it the next time they tried, would you be holding it against them as ardently as you do against yourself?”

Snarling, he went on, “And if you hadn’t ‘blown off’ your brother when he’d called you to retreat, the Krang would have won, plain and simple. If we’d had the opportunity to bring in the Technodrome without needing to invade a tower and preemptively alert the humans to our presence, we would have overtaken them much faster. They wouldn’t have had the time to mobilize against us like they had without that warning. Moreover, if we hadn’t assimilated your brother – considering said brother’s hesitance to let the rest of you engage us, and given he was evidently the one in charge – I highly doubt any of you would’ve stormed our position either. Which would’ve been yet another point towards completing our assimilation.

“You have more than made up for your part in releasing us – which was minor to begin with – with the steps you took to rectify it. It makes positively no sense for you to— for you—”

Krang couldn’t go on. His host’s throat had closed up, which meant his had done the same. He swallowed a few times, trembling, and wishing above all else that this would be over soon.

And then, suddenly, it was. Krang was viscerally reminded of a cloud being blown out of the way, revealing the sun behind it. The cloud was still there, unfortunately, but it was off to the side and not presently bothering anyone. Krang took a quiet breath and let it out, so relieved he very nearly went limp with it.

“That’s… I hadn’t really thought about it like that. Um. Thanks, Uno.”

Krang swallowed again, finally banishing the lump that had formed in his throat. It was a confusing sensation, having the rage at being defeated mingle with the sense of calm that came with an arduous situation ending.

“Why don’t you put on your— your dopamine-hit?” Krang suggested, gesturing absently at the screen across from them.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good,” his host said, uncurling and rising off the bed. After slotting the weird plastic brick into the device, he returned to the bed. This time, rather than flopping down from full height, he simply sat down. (Thankfully. Krang wasn’t sure how much more flopping the springs of his sleep-mat could take.)

Krang, sensing the conversation was over, went to retreat back into his host’s shell. He was stopped by a quiet, “hey…”

He paused.

“You could, um… watch with, if you want. I mean, assuming you don’t wanna like… just chill out with your thoughts or anything…”

Krang looked at him, then glanced at the screen. It was definitely of the same stock as the last thing his host had watched (or at least was set in a similarly unrealistic depiction of space), but it didn’t look to be exactly what he’d watched before.

“Does it tie in with the last video you watched? Because I wasn’t paying attention to that, so if it had relevant information needed to understand this, I’d be very lost.”

“I mean… a little, but I can fill you in on anything you don’t get.” A scoff. “I could probably quote most of the JJ series, no movie needed, sooo…”

Krang hesitated, then slowly pulled himself the rest of the way back out of his host’s shell. “Alright.”

(As it turned out, he needn’t have worried about not being able to follow the plot of the utter nonsense playing in front of him. His host was more than prepared to fill him in on exactly what was happening. As well as what had happened in every prior installment of the apparent series, and bits of trivia on what had happened behind the scenes during production.

Krang was disgruntled and confused to realize he didn’t mind the steady stream of noise coming from his host. It was strangely… well. It was probably just from the dopamine that blabbering was giving his host, which was then of course distributed to him. Most likely.)

Notes:

I told you guys that I wasn't gonna just gloss over the whole "now Leo's the leader!" thing season 2 tried to pull. And look! Serves the plot and everything! (Or at least, acts as another point for these two dingalings to talk to each other.)

Anyway, yet another great big “thank you dearly” to Wig fort with where to start the whole SBB investigation/what to do with the Sando Brothers. This chapter would still be in limbo if not for her.

Chapter 16: CORKSCREW

A tentacle snapped at the back of Leo’s head, and he yelped.

“Why do you do that?!” he demanded, glaring at Krang. “Like seriously, you could get my attention just as easy by going ‘hey! Let’s talk!’ I know that hurts you too, why put us through this?”

“Because I’m annoyed,” Krang said. He seemed more tired than anything, though, which wasn’t totally expected. “Why are you feeling so down again? You were fine a moment ago – what changed in the last minute and a half?”

Leo lowered his swords slightly. He’d finally gotten around to the training he’d been meaning to (woo!), nothing fancy, just reviewing some stances and strikes on a dummy to warm-up before moving on to more complicated stuff. Again, it’d been a hot second since he’d been able to do this, he’d probably just end up frustrating himself if he tried to jump straight back into trick-shots.

“Nothing changed. I’m fine, honestly— no really, I am, don’t look at me like that! It’s nothing to do with me here. I was just. Thinking, I guess.”

“Yes, you do that entirely too much,” Krang groused. First time Leo had ever been accused of that. (…felt pretty alright, honestly. Was this why Donnie was such a know-it-all?) “What were you thinking about?”

Then, before Leo could properly answer, “More pressingly, why didn’t you stop thinking when it started causing your mood to drop?”

“Have you ever tried to stop thinking once you got the ball rolling?” Leo countered, standing his swords vertically to lean against them as they talked. “Because if you’ve got a trick for doing that I’d be super interested in hearing it.”

A beat, and then Krang grunted, “Touché.” Then, “So what were you thinking about?”

Lots of things, honestly. Not many of which were things he even really knew how to get into. Like how the night before had… kinda been the first time he’d really talked about anything to do with the invasion.

Sssssort of. He’d talked with his dad about things after. Mostly about how he needed to slow down on constantly training. Leo explained he was just trying to stay in top-form in case anything like the invasion ever happened again. His dad gently insisted hyper-focusing on trying to “stay ready, be serious” wasn’t good for him, and anyway everyone was worried about him. Leo hadn’t wanted to stress everyone out just because he was paranoid or whatever now, so he’d eased up. It wasn’t about him.

Anyway, Dad wasn’t usually the type to have that sort of conversation with people, so the fact that he’d gone out of his way to have it with Leo had been a nice bonding moment. It’d given Leo a second to vent, anyway.

He was fine now, at least about everything pertaining to the actual invasion. Obviously. It was just he’d never really had an opening to talk about all the stuff that had led up to it (and even if he had, he wouldn’t have taken it; it wasn’t his family’s responsibility to deal with that shit for him). It’d felt… much, much better than he’d anticipated to finally word-vomit about it.

Which he’d officially decided was okay to be fine with! It was like… like the nemo-fish and the M&M-o-nees. Both sides got something from the other. Krang was leeching off his vitals, he was using Krang as a dumping-ground for all the stuff he didn’t want to bother anyone else with but that wouldn’t leave his head otherwise. Krang was the source of horrible, terrible things, but since Leo was stuck with him for the foreseeable future anyway…

But none of that had anything to do with what Uno was asking about, so rather than give him a play-by-play on his musings, he cut to the chase:

“April was really bummed yesterday when we couldn’t find any leads on the Bandit,” he said. “I feel bad for her.”

A beat.

“…you ‘feel bad.’ FOR her.” Krang said slowly. Leo raised an eyebrow at him. He sounded way more out of patience than Leo felt he had a right to be.

“Yyyyyyep. Did my subtitles switch over to webdings or something? What’s the problem here, what are you not getting?”

Krang gave him that look of his that was such a flawless blend of confusion and “are you brain-dead?” that Leo suspected he’d spent his thousand-year prison stint perfecting it.

“You are telling me,” he said brittly, “that not only will you start to spiral because of things you’re experiencing, but you’ll do it over what others are going through as well??”

“First off, I’m not spiraling,” Leo said, mildly insulted. “Second, yeah. It’s called ‘basic empathy.’”

Krang growled loudly, pressing his tentacles to his face, fed up.

“Is it just you who’s prone to this ‘empathy’ garbage?” he asked, not looking up. “Or is this mental disorder common in earthlings?”

Mark Leo as extremely unimpressed. “Pretty common. There’s generally considered to be something wrong with you if you don’t have at least a little.”

“Good to know this isn’t just my luck, then,” Krang said, dragging his tentacles down his face, pulling down his bottom lids so Leo could see the dark pink flesh under his eyes. Huffing out a sigh, he asked, “So what are we going to do about it?”

“Uh… nothing?” Leo replied, confused. “Are you seriously asking how to get rid of my empathy?”

“No, because if it were possible to get rid of troublesome things like this – or for you to even be open to getting rid of them – that would make things entirely too easy for me. Which by now I’m well aware is apparently out of the question.” (Oh the drama from this guy, seriously—) “What I’m asking is how to negate the feeling your ‘empathy’ is causing in you.”

Leo thought for a second, not sure how to explain this. “We kinda… can’t? I feel bad because April feels bad, and she feels bad because doesn’t know how to get a leg-up at work.” He shrugged. “Not a whole lot we can do to help her there.”

“Weren’t you ‘helping’ her yesterday? Why not just pick up where you left off there?”

Leo furrowed his brow. “I mean, we were trying to help, yeah, but the whole reason we stopped is because we couldn’t find anything, remember—?”

“Yes, I do, thank you very much, I also remember you saying something about ‘hitting up a police precinct’ to get the information you need. Why didn’t you do that?”

“Raph had a point,” Leo explained. “If we got caught—”

“If Apriloneil got caught,” Krang corrected. “Something about her losing her job? Last I checked, you do not have a job hanging in the balance. And even if you did, I maintain that it’s highly unlikely you’d get caught in the first place.”

He scoffed. “Once more, if they’re who I think they are, their aim is terrible. I have no doubt you’d be able to avoid their shots, even less doubt that you’d be able to out-maneuver them if they tried to capture you.” He gestured at Leo’s swords. “The ability to blink out of the entire situation is admittedly helpful in this regard, I suppose…”

“That’s… nice of you, I guess?” Leo said slowly. He stomped down some feelings that were trying to sprig in his chest, not bothering to attach a name to any of them. “But that’s kinda Raph’s point – I’m the only guy that can teleport that fast if we got into trouble. What about everyone else?”

“What about them?”

Leo stared at him. Krang stared back. Finally, Leo processed what he was implying.

“Wait, are you saying I go alone?”

“Why not?” Krang asked, looking legitimately confused (if still vaguely annoyed that the conversation was happening at all). “Your eldest brother has already made it clear he opposes this plan simply over the supposed legality of it, and the other two would only slow you down.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed a little. “They wouldn’t ‘slow me down,’ we’re a team. Just because you have weird ‘I’m better than everybody’ hang-ups—”

“For the love of— ‘teamwork’ is not an unfamiliar concept to the Krang!” he burst. “I’m not trying to dissuade you from it! Assimilations cannot be achieved with a single Krang, it takes a multitude of skills! But there’s likewise nothing wrong with a single individual taking the initiative when they have the necessary skills for the task at hand! Which you do!” A glare. “And you’re the one saying ‘I’m the only guy that can teleport’ so don’t act like you weren’t thinking something along the same lines as what I said!”

Krang snapped his tentacle at the back of his head again.

It didn’t hurt. Which, considering how hard Leo knew Krang could hit, meant he’d done it literally just to be petty. This was actually a golden opportunity to gain some maturity points over him, and gracefully not react.

’Cept here’s the thing about being “mature:” You never got to point out how much more mature you were than someone else, or it would immediately negate your mature-ness. And if Leo couldn’t rub it in Krang’s face, what was the point?

Leo didn’t hit back (because again, Krang’s smack hadn’t been hard, and if life with three brothers had taught him anything it was to keep retaliations equal). He just gave him a hearty poke in the side to hopefully lobby the annoyance he felt back at him.

Krang squeaked.

Loudly.

He clapped his tentacles over his mouth. They both froze.

“…um,” Leo began, blinking. “The heck was that?”

Krang conspicuously didn’t answer right away. “It— that—”

He swallowed, and Leo watched his demeanor and expression forcibly smooth over. “‘That’ was uncomfortable, Pest. Please refrain from doing it again.”

Leo was halfway to apologizing – whatever else Krang was, he wasn’t the squeaking type, so anything uncomfortable enough as to make him squeak must’ve been pretty bad. Before he could, though, a rare bolt of critical thinking hit him.

“Wait— that can’t be it. If it was uncomfortable, I woulda felt it too, wouldn’t I? Which. Which I didn’t.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “What, you ticklish or something?”

(Side thing, but if the two most dangerous people Leo had ever fought ended up having their weak points be tickle-spots, Leo was going to scream.)

Krang – who was sinking lower and lower on his shoulder, glaring at the floor – huffed. “Genuinely no idea. I don’t know what ‘ticklish’ is.”

“Someone touches you in a certain place and it makes you laugh.”

Krang’s face scrunched, looking weirdly disapproving. “Ah. That’s what you people call joy-spots, then?” He shook his head. “No, that’s not what this is.”

Leo tilted his head to the side. “M’kay, so… if it didn’t hurt, and didn’t tickle…” Again, critical thinking came down like a hammer. Two for two, he was on fire today! “…that mean it just felt nice, then?”

Just like a low-budget magic trick, Krang instantly disappeared back into Leo’s shell.

“Wh—? Hey!” he yelled, a little offended. They were in the middle of a conversation! “Uno that’s cheap, c’mon! Get out here and face your problems!”

“That’s rich coming from you!” Krang yelled back, staying firmly where he was at the bottom of Leo’s shell.

“First off, uncalled for, second, come! On!” He emphasized his point by knocking LOUDLY on his own shell. “Come out and answer me you coward—!”

Alakazam! He was back! And even more grumpy-looking than before!

“Do not call me a coward, Pest,” he growled. “I won’t tolerate it.”

“Don’t run and hide the second the conversation takes a turn you don’t like,” Leo countered, unimpressed. Though, uncalled for comment or not, Leo acknowledged his own hypocrisy, if only internally.

“What do you want me to say, exactly?!” Krang demanded, gesturing frustratedly at nothing. “What more are you hoping to get out of this ‘conversation’?!”

“A ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ how ’bout?”

“Yes!” he spat, and Leo couldn’t help but notice he wasn’t looking at him again. “It felt—! It wasn’t disagreeable! Phonation lamella are sensitive, which is where you poked me! Are you happy now?”

“Uhhh almost – what are ‘phonation lamella’?”

To Leo’s surprise, little flaps on Krang’s sides lifted, each glowing softly. They reminded him of gills. He’d forgot Krang had those.

“They create the necessary phonic resonance required to block your little ‘mystic’ tricks,” Krang explained curtly. He let his little gill flaps close, then gave Leo a blistering glare. “Now I’m going to have to demand that you desist being the single most horrific irritant I have ever had the misfortune of being subjected to, you absolute—!”

Leo brought his hand up and brushed over Krang’s closed gill with his thumb. Krang jumped a little, words drying up in his mouth. Leo did it again, and he shivered. Leo brought his other hand up, mimicking the action on Krang’s other side, and he melted.

“Heh, sweet,” Leo said, grinning as Krang pressed into his hands. “Off-button.”

---

Here’s the annoying thing: Krang-O had a point. Finding more info on the Spine-Breaking Bandit was probably the fastest way to cheer April up, and really the only way to get more info at this point was to break into the police precinct. And this kind of reconnaissance mission would go smoothest with the smallest amount of people possible, and Leo was the guy best suited to make a quick escape if needed.

He decided (after about twenty minutes of fighting with himself) it wouldn’t make sense to try to drag everyone along. Not only was Raph being overly cautious about the idea, but he had to be up for work tomorrow morning. Nighttime capers would’ve been out of the question even if he’d been A-OK with it. And if Raph couldn’t come, it didn’t make any sense for Leo to try to drag Mikey or Donnie along. Raph would feel left out afterwards, it would make Leo the guy calling the shots since it’d been his idea, Mikey and Donnie were more used to following Raph’s calls than Leo’s besides, it’d be a whole huge mess.

Anyway, he didn’t even know if he was going to uncover anything interesting during this outing. Considering the cops were still struggling to find their guy, it was perfectly possible they’d have bupkiss to offer in terms of leads they could follow. It didn’t make sense to get everyone’s hopes up (or at least, April’s) over potentially nothing. If he did learn something useful, he’d share the news and bring everyone with to play detective then. He was totally still thinking of his team!

(Leo’s stomach was upset. He ignored it.)

This is what ultimately found Leo casually meandering up from a subway entrance, all brooched up, not looking any more likely to commit what was… probably a crime than the next New Yorker. For April.

There was really only one way into the new Lair, but there were a few different crossroads you could take from it to get back up to the surface. Since he was going for nonchalant and Normal tonight, Leo had opted for someplace you’d expect to see a nonchalant and Normal human to be exiting from. No one who noticed him threw him any weird looks, anyway, which they definitely would’ve if they’d seen him crawl out of a manhole.

In retrospect, the manhole might’ve been less trouble.

So he came waltzing up out of the subway, completely casual, and was immediately nearly run over by a guy on a skateboard. Leo didn’t have any hard feelings over it (guy corrected his course as fast as he was able, and called “sorry man!” over his shoulder as he rolled away), but the stumbling he had to do to avoid a collision made him back up into a flock of pigeons. The pigeons took flight, spooking an old lady, who reflexively swung her purse to keep them from getting too close. One of the clasps on the purse’s strap was apparently past its time, because it snapped right at that moment. The purse (now having been inadvertently given a wider arc than it’d had previously) nearly hit Leo as the lady swung it, which sent him stumbling back a second time. This time, he ended up in the middle of the street. A car honking loudly alerted him to the fact that he hadn’t just stumbled into the street, he’d stumbled into traffic.

Leo jumped out of the way, but the car had already swerved, heading directly towards a pack of New York street-wizards. (Which: Why were there constantly so many people cosplaying as wizards in New York?? Was it just the same guys who had a ~passion~ or did it run deeper? Someone explain, Leo’d been confused for years by this point.) The wizards saw the car coming and scattered, save one guy who stood his ground, arm held out like he’d be able to stop the car that was barreling towards him with willpower alone. Leo, panicking, dove towards him, tackling him out of the way (the guy yelled out indignantly on the way down). The wizard staff or whatever that he’d been holding had gotten knocked from his hand, and consequently ended up under the wheels of the car. Because of how it was laying on the ground and/or where the car passed over it (physics and stuff), rather than getting crushed or shattered, it got launched into the air, flying off into the night.

…that it? Anything else? No baby-grands anybody wanted to drop on him from a rooftop or anything??

Leo looked around, rattled, then shook his head and rolled off the still ranting wizard. He ignored him, trotting off in the direction of the precinct before anything else could happen.

---

Warren Stone – greatest foe of the Mutant Loser Turtles five-years running – stood in front of the large box that sat obtrusively in his living room, pinching the space between his eyes. Hypno, standing next to him, twiddled his thumbs dolefully, looking downcast.

“Explain to me again how you ended up ordering two dozen live ducks?”

“I was trying to replace my doves,” Hypno groaned miserably, slumping where he stood. “I told you I lost them, didn’t I? Back before, with the bank—”

“Yes, I remember,” Warren said, opening his eyes. “Why do you keep bringing doves to your crimes anyway? Especially against the Loser Squad? This is— what, the third? Fourth time they’ve sent them somewhere else during a fight over the years?”

“I didn’t think the turtles would be there!” Hypno insisted. “It was supposed to be a quick in-and-out!” He sighed. “Anyway, I was trying to order the new doves off my phone, but my fingers are too big for the little wheel they give you to select what bird you want, and ‘ducks’ is right under ‘doves—’”

“Ugggggggghhhh this is how we ended up with anchovy and jalapeño pizza the other day, too—!”

“It’s not my fault the screens are so small!”

“I didn’t say it was!” Warren said. “But would it kill you to check the ‘review your order’ section before actually confirming your purchase when you order?” He gestured at the box in front of them, large and out of place in the middle of their living room. “I mean, what are we going to do with a two dozen multi-species box of ducks—?!”

Several things happened in immediate succession:

A large stick suddenly came careening through the window, shattering it. The stick javelined itself into the duck box. The ducks, through the terror of suddenly getting javelined at, apparently gained the strength of two dozen ducks each, because they all suddenly burst out of the box in a panic.

There were a few confused, frantic seconds spent scrambling around as the living room filled with terrified water foul. Then, just as quickly as it started, it ended as the ducks all filed out of the now broken window, flying off into the night.

“…well,” Hypno said, slightly winded and shielding Warren in his hands. “That solves that problem, I guess…?”

---

It wasn’t late-late. Definitely the time where most people were at least thinking of settling in for bed, if not already snoring. Considering the situations the NYC cops had to deal with on the daily, it wasn’t all that surprising that there were still a fair few of them in the precinct, even with this in mind. Krang hadn’t been wrong that Leo would be able to avoid them no problem as he slunk around through the building, though that had more to do with being a literal ninja than it probably did with the cops being incompetent or something.

But anyway: Unsurprising for there to be a lot of people still around or not, it was super inconvenient for Leo. Having people scattered all over the place meant it was tricky to actually try to gather any info.

Also, his parasite was apparently mad at him again. Presumably; he hadn’t offered any sort of reason for his sudden mood. Once Leo had decided he actually was going to raid the precinct by himself, Krang had disappeared back into his shell with a snarl, and hadn’t said anything since.

Not that he really needed to say anything else – it didn’t take that many brain-cells to work out he was embarrassed. Something told Leo that enjoying something that felt nice somehow translated into to weakness for Krang (no wonder they were all such assholes). Which probably then meant he resented Leo for bringing him to that “low,” or whatever.

(Leo felt weirdly sure he hadn’t wanted him to stop, however he was acting after the fact. Leo kind of hadn’t wanted to stop. He hadn’t felt whatever Krang was feeling as strongly as he felt Krang’s pain – which was a huge rip-off, for the record – but he had felt weirdly… zen during the whole thing. He would be using this trick next time Krang was being argumentative. Or else just when Leo was having trouble sleeping.

Anyway, the shocked and flustered look Krang had gotten once Leo stopped and he realized how he’d been behaving had been kinda—)

Leo ducked into what looked like an empty break room or something, just needing a moment to regather himself for a second. Okay – he was a New York City policeturtle, he had important, not-to-be-released-to-the-public information on a prolific serial-robber. Standard protocol would be to take that information and put it in theeeee…

Crap. He didn’t know. Cop shows and true-crime were Mikey’s guilty pleasure, not his. And from what he’d seen of it in passing, neither of those things really covered the police’s filing system when talking about the crimes. He was flying blind here.

“Uno, come out and talk with me for a second,” he called quietly.

No response.

“Dude, come on.”

Nada. Radio silence. Leo’s face scrunched.

“C’mon Uno, this was your idea! Help me out here!”

“What help could I possibly offer you here?” Krang demanded. He still didn’t come out, but at least he’d answered him. “I don’t even rightfully know what you’re looking for – my knowledge of this situation extends as far as you saying you could find something of use here, and then stops there!”

“I don’t know anything either!” Leo insisted. “This was April’s case, not mine! Which is why I could use your help to brainstorm, I’m stuck!”

Krang grumbled for a second. “‘Brainstorming’ in this case entails… what, babbling at each other until something starts to sound logical?”

“Prrrretty much, yeah.”

There was a pause. “…and you think ‘brainstorming’ with me will speed up this endeavor?” he clarified. He sounded partly dismissive, partly curious, mostly confused.

“Well yeah, you’re sm— um. Y’know. Not stupid. And two heads are better than one, right?” Leo coughed. “So get your head in the game and work with me.”

“…hmph. I don’t see why I should have to, you’re ‘not stupid’ either. It makes no sense that I should be forced to participate in something you’re perfectly capable of doing by yourself, but fine.”

He finally crawled out of Leo’s shellpack, settling on his shoulder. “In the most general sense, what precisely are you looking for here?”

“We’re looking for info on the Spine-Breaking Bandit,” Leo replied. “Specifically, any evidence that might suggest where he’ll strike next, or – better – where we could find him before he hits next.”

Krang nodded slowly, thinking. “And how do you think these people—” A careless wave of a tentacle to indicate the building and its occupants as a whole, “—would catalogue that information?” A beat, then, specifying, “Would they be more likely to keep physical copies, or log it away within their technology, like your brother?”

Leo thought for a second himself. “Um… physical copies, I think? Because I mean, if they put everything in computers, then wouldn’t that mean they’d be at risk of getting hacked by the crooks? And either lose it all or just get the evidence messed with? I mean mentioning Donnie and everything, that’s definitely what he’d do…”

Anyway, that felt right for the cops, didn’t it? Leo felt pretty sure he’d seen someone in one of Mikey’s shows with a big fat manilla folder full of all the details they needed for a case…

Feeling more confident, he went on, “And anyway, it’s not like they could log physical bits of evidence into a computer, if there are any. So… so yeah, we’re almost definitely looking for physical evidence!”

“Alright. Any idea where they might be hoarding that physical evidence?”

“Nnng… a filing cabinet, probably? Maybe?” Seemed as good a spot to start as any…

Leo poked his head out the door to the breakroom, glancing up and down the hall. Not seeing anyone, he slid out, moving right. “Let’s see if we can find one…!”

They didn’t get far in their search. In fact, the next corner they turned found two detectives milling around a water-cooler. Leo slammed his breaks and ducked back behind the corner before they could notice him.

“…it’s like the guy’s made of smoke, I’m telling you—”

“He’s not ‘made of smoke,’ Lebawitz, he’s made of flesh and bone like everybody else.”

“How’s he manage to keep breaking into houses without leaving any signs of forced entry? How’s he always manage to escape without even being seen, even when there are witnesses besides the person he’s surprise-attacking in the home at the time of the attack? How do none of the people whose spines he’s breaking never notice him until it’s too late?” A huff. “I know he’s just as solid as any other crook, Smithson, I’m just saying something weird is going on here.”

 “Yeah, well, that’s New York for you. Weird place.” A pause filled with light sipping sounds. “And it’s not like there’s never any witnesses. Didn’t you say you talked to that one girl? Kimmy…?”

“Kimberly West, yeah. All she said when we I interviewed her was that she saw someone booking it away from the crime scene shortly before the ambulance showed up.”

“Hm. Not a lot, but it’s more than we usually get when the Bandit crops up.”

“Yeah, but I dunno. I got the sense she was holding something back. I wanna drop in on her tomorrow and see if I can get anything else out of her.”

“Won’t she be at work? Or are you just going to wait around until you see her get home?”

“Nah, she’s at work right now. That’s why she was out at the time of the crime to catch a glimpse of the guy. She was on her way back to her apartment after she’d finished her shift at— hell, what’s the name of that new place on 20^th?”

“Uhh shit, it was a zodiac something… The Scorpio? Pieces?”

“Gemini’s! She works at Gemini’s. She gets off at like three in the morning. Maybe if I catch her when she’s still groggy she’ll slip up and tell me whatever she’s hiding.”

“Or she’ll be tired and pissy and tell you to go to hell.”

“Yeah, well, these are the risks we take…”

The two chatted a bit more, refilled their little paper cups a final time, then turned the corner and left.

“…well that works!” Leo said once it was clear they weren’t coming back.

“Yes, that was… convenient,” Krang said, sounding a little gobsmacked. “They just happened to be talking about that right as we came over?”

“I know, it’s great, right?” Leo asked, scuttling towards the nearest window and barrel rolling out of it. “Thank you, plot-progression!”

---

Chett Brettson hauled himself over the Middle Park Zoo’s fence. His landing was… rough – he fell flat on his face. He sprang back up, frantically pressing his fingertips here and there, checking for damages or misshapenness. He found none, thankfully, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Glancing around, he determined there was no one around. He pulled his hood lower over his face, and quickly trotted further into the zoo.

Chett was beautiful. He knew this, had always known it. And none of that “inner beauty” bull that ugly people liked to go on about – full-on outer beauty for him. His insides were red and mushy like everyone else’s, like they were medically supposed to be.

His problem was that no one else seemed to realize just how stunning he was.

Well. Sort of. It wasn’t that people ever tried to claim he was unattractive (how could they? Chett didn’t personally know any blind people, after all). It was that no one seemed to want to let him capitalize on his beauty.

Chett had been in modeling since he was a baby – his mother had taken note of his good looks right away. Ever heard of a little brand called Pampers? Yeah. That had been his face plastered all over the size 4 diaper boxes, thank you very much. He still had a box in his closet. Not so he could brag, or anything – just as a conversational piece to bring out when he had new people over.

The point: He was born to pose and promote brands and make people wish they could look as incredible as he did in whatever his stylists dressed him up with. He’d known ever since he was a child. But as he got older, people were more and more reluctant to let him do that. They claimed he “made weird faces.”

“Stop looking at the camera like that, we said intense not murderous,” “no no, bedroom eyes, stop squinting,” “‘open smile’ doesn’t mean ‘pull your lips back like you’re trying to get us to check if you have something in your teeth!’” And, overwhelmingly, “stop pursing your lips in every picture!” Did no one besides him know how to do a good smolder??

Jealous, all of them.

Thoroughly discouraged and, frankly, broken-hearted with the malicious nit-picking he was facing in the industry, Chett had been forced to alter his life plan. It went from doing what he knew he was meant to do, to doing something that would pay the bills.

…something that would eventually pay the bills. He’d opted to lick his wounds for just a bit longer (as he had every right to – they were terrible, gaping wounds on his heart), and was presently living life as a full-time student at Eastlaird University. He was majoring in photography, since that was apparently as close to his true passion as he was allowed to get. (Also, once he learned the ins and outs of things, it would mean he could stage his own photoshoot, probably.)

It was through college, thanks to an art class that he only took to fill a hole in his schedule, that he met Mina.

Mina Dundruff was a spoiled, entitled, self-centered brat, and she didn’t deserve the success she was facing. Her art was horrendous, and whenever anyone had tried to point this out to her, she’d pouted. Then, apparently, she’d decided to alter her approach towards something more… avant-garde. She showed up to class one day dressed head-to-toe as a chameleon. It was an extremely convincing fit, all things considered, but that wasn’t all: The fursuit— scalesuit? Did the term change depending on what kind of animal it was? Whatever. It was apparently very high-tech – funded by her rich parents, no doubt – and could turn a variety of wild colors.

She was putting on “color shows” on campus. She was the talk of the art department, and her newfound success was going to her already over-inflated head. Chett wasn’t even safe from her in his photography classes – everyone was buzzing about how amazing the shots they got from her shows were. How was it fair that someone that insufferable managed to snag that much attention? Chett should be the one whose pictures had everyone fawning over him! He would’ve been humble about his success, unlike some people! Moreover, his beauty was all-natural, not bought by his parents!

…except Mina’s looks weren’t bought by her parents.

Chett had made a scathing remark to Mina in passing – “must be nice being able to just buy people’s attention when you don’t have the talent to do it naturally,” something like that. For some reason, she’d taken exception to it. She’d asserted that everything about her color shows were naturally “her,” to which he’d pointed out no one would give her a second glance if it wasn’t for her fancy lizard suit. She insisted that she wasn’t wearing a suit. He scoffed, because how stupid did she think he was, he looked closer to find a seam or something—

It wasn’t a high-tech fursuit(/scalesuit). It was real. That was Mina’s real skin. She had transformed herself into a real, actual chameleon. The colors she was producing were a result of being a chameleon.

When he (obviously) expressed shock at this, she gave him the run-down. As it turned out, anyone could do this. With any animal.

Chett thought he heard movement ahead as he moved carefully through the zoo. He flopped on top of the bench were you could sit and look down into the penguin enclosure, laying down so the back blocked him from view. He waited a second, then lifted his body so he could peek up over the back to check for anyone. After a moment, a nighttime janitor shuffled into view, scooping up candy-bars wrappers, the little paper food baskets leftover from eating at the zoo’s overpriced restaurant, and other general bits of litter. He didn’t notice Chett at all (he seemed to have earbuds in, upon closer inspection), and after a moment he shuffled past, none the wiser.

Chett watched him go, giving it an extra second to make sure the coast was clear, then leapt up and continued on his way.

Apparently the key to Mina’s insane transformation was getting bitten by a glowing green bug. After that, she’d transformed into the last animal she’d touched (a chameleon, obviously). And it just so happened she had a glowing green bug to spare! She’d given it to him, “free of charge!” (which, he should certainly hope so), and later that very night – this night, to be specific – Chett had resolved to put it to use.

Mina Dundruff was a spoiled, entitled brat, and she didn’t deserve the success she was facing. But apparently, even she could be useful once every blue moon. If a nobody like her had managed to find success by altering herself like this, so would he.

Chett came to a stop in front of the peacock enclosure, glanced around to make sure there were no more janitors around, then entered.

Male peacocks were widely considered to be the most opulent, most gorgeous birds in the animal kingdom, and for good reason. Their plumage was a sumptuous mix of deep blues and greens, and the display they created with their tail feathers was unmatched.

Chett was already gorgeous, but if he had those elements on his side? Modeling agencies would be beating down his door to get him to sign with them. And that was without the fabulous color-powers he’d apparently get with the deal!

Or— or was the color thing specific to chameleons? Did this mean Chett would get a different power? What would a peacock’s power be? Since the display they created was specifically a mating display, did that mean he’d have the power to entrance whoever he wanted? Chett could think of a few people who apparently thought it was cute to play hard to get (note: It wasn’t, but try telling them that); he couldn’t wait to try it on them!

He crept up quietly to a peacock, currently asleep in its nest. Usually, the peacocks were left to roam the zoo during the day. They were very tame. This was mostly just where they came to sleep. Softly, he reached forward to pet its feathers.

The peacock woke up instantly as soon as he touched it, and just as instantly panicked. Which, in turn, woke up the rest of the pea-coop. They all began rushing to escape the intruder in their midst, which unfortunately involved going through the intruder to get to the exit.

Chett cried out, terrified and panicking himself at the onslaught of feathers and talons now coming at him, and hastily scrambled backwards to get away.

Once back outside the enclosure, the peacocks disappeared into the night, running to find hiding spots on the zoo’s grounds. Chett panted, thoroughly disheveled, and once again checked his face for damages. His eyes welled up in devastation as he felt a cavernous gash in his cheek, maybe half an inch long. It hadn’t started to bleed yet, maybe if he transformed quickly enough he’d be able to conceal the deformity with feathers—!

He pulled the disgusting bug from the front pocket of his Eastlaird hoodie (a brilliant disguise, if he said so himself – not only were there thousands of Eastlaird students, but no one who knew him would suspect he’d be caught dead in something so… plain and shapeless as a hooded sweatshirt). Mina had trapped it in a Tupperware container, so all he needed to do was pop the lid and let it out.

He took a deep breath, opened the lid, then let the container drop as the bug flew out of it. He closed his eyes, feeling at peace with the knowledge that his dreams would come true after this, and opened his arms, waiting to be bitten.

He almost immediately re-opened his eyes at the frantic sound of wings heading directly towards him, expecting to see a peacock returning. A duck collided with his face instead.

He fell backwards onto the ground, ripping the duck off his face and throwing it a distance away. It gave a loud, confused QUACK before apparently regaining its bearings and flying up to rejoin a group of about twenty or so more ducks.

Chett watched it go, utterly flummoxed, then felt a sharp, stinging pain on the back of his neck.

---

Screaming wasn’t something normal to hear. Even if it was like, a joyful scream (which this wasn’t), it wasn’t super commonplace.

Especially not in the middle of the night. Especially not coming from a zoo.

Leo had gotten his streets mixed up. He’d never actually been to the place he and Krang were headed, and really only had a best-guess idea of where it was. Because of that, he’d portalled to the nearest spot he was sure of, and had resolved to walk until he found what he was looking for.

But, again, he’d mixed up the streets, so he’d ended up outside the zoo rather than where he’d wanted to be. S’what he got for portalling on auto. Not that big a deal, all things considered, just open another portal to the right place, right?

That’d been the plan, but, again: Screaming.

Leo stood there, swords raised and ready to be swung down and open a portal, staring towards the zoo. A flock of ducks flew overhead, which Leo could only assume had been spooked by all the noise. What was his duty of care here? The sounds didn’t sound scared or agonized— …physically agonized. Someone in there was clearly going through it, but it wasn’t “oh the pain the pain it’s unbearable for the love of God someone please help me” –sounds.

Wailing. That was more the word Leo wanted. If a night-shift worker had just gotten a break-up text or something, that wasn’t really a thing that would require his involvement. And he was in the middle of something, so it’d be cool to just… leave, right?

He fought with himself for three seconds, six, and then by ten he’d slumped, stowed his swords, and moved to enter the zoo.

Krang poked his head out, presumably to scope out the spot they were about to go undercover at. Glancing at him, Leo saw he looked a little perplexed.

“This isn’t where we were headed – I took a wrong turn,” he said, answering the unspoken question he was sensing. “We’re just going in to see what all the racket’s about.”

“Oh,” Krang said. Then, “Why?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Because if something serious is going down, and it comes out that I was nearby at the time, that’ll be a whole new talk we’ll have to have with Raph.”

Krang rolled his eyes back, and didn’t offer any more pushback. He went back to hiding in Leo’s shellpack.

Leo didn’t go to the zoo very often, but from what he could remember it looked the same as ever. Y’know. Apart from the person he eventually found collapsed in a heap on the ground, bawling like they’d just been told their mom had gotten eaten by a coyote. And then five seconds later their S/O told them they were leaving them. For the coyote.

Yeah, that was a new feature.

They had the hood of their sweatshirt up and their head down, so Leo couldn’t make out their face at all. Trying to find the sweet-spot between friendly and concerned and non-threatening, he called, “Hey man. You good or—?”

The person on the ground gasped dramatically, whipping around the other way to further hide their face.

“Don’t— don’t look at me!!” the guy sobbed. Then, choking, “I’m hi-HIDEOUS!!”

…uhhh?

“I’m… sure you’re fine, dude, here—”

Leo reached out to take the guy’s arm to help him up, assuming he was just drunk or high or something (New York – what a town), but the guy wrenched away from him, still refusing to face him.

“You don’t UNDERSTAND,” he wept at top volume. “Everything’s gone all WRONG!! My life is ruined and it’s all thanks to Mina Dundruff—”

“MINA…” Leo groaned, dropping his face into his palm.

“You know her?!”

“You could say that,” he said, dragging his hand down his face. He had a sinking sense in his gut that he knew what had happened here.

“So, I could ask you what went down just now, but just for fun, lemme take a stab in the dark at it: You run into a lizard girl named ‘Mina’ at some point—”

“She goes to my college!” the guy spat, still staring at the ground. “She’s annoying!”

“Yep, right, okay, and she started giving you some spiel about how you could ‘release your inner self’ or whatever slogan she landed on, sold you a bug – even though she shouldn’t even HAVE the bug in the first place, because certain people said they’d be getting rid of all the bugs but WHATEVER – and now something unforeseen has happened, and you’re not happy with the results. Am I close?”

“She sabotaged me!!” the guy insisted shrilly. “She was jealous of how much prettier I was than her!! She tampered with the bug, or just left out a step on what to do, or—!!”

“So I was right on the money, swell,” Leo said, slumping and staring up beseechingly at the sky. Regathering himself, he said, “H’okay, so, first off, getting bit by that glow-y green bug doesn’t ‘let out your best self’ or make your dreams come true or whatever salesperson slop Mina was peddling. The people they bite mutate into the last animal they—”

“I knew I’d turn into an animal!” the guy snapped, intensely annoyed. “I’m not an idiot, I made her explain the process before running off to try it!” A fresh sob. “But I was supposed to transform into a beautiful peacock, not a-a—”

He dissolved into wordless wails again.

Krang had poked his head out of Leo’s shell just slightly by this point. He was staring at the person crumpled on the ground in front of them, seemingly unsure whether he felt complete disgust or pure bewilderment. He and Leo shared a look. On the one hand, Leo acknowledged that the guy had just gone through an irreversible change that would probably affect his whole life going forward. It was more than fair to be a little emotional about it, and more than anything he probably needed a little support and reassurance right now. Especially since (if Leo was understanding things right) he’d somehow managed to turn into the wrong animal.

On the other hand… the blubbering and melodramatic “no! don’t look at me!” –bit was more than a little annoying. Was that callous? Also, did this technically count as a “reap what you’ve sown” –deal considering he did go into it willingly, even if something apparently went screwy during the process?

Leo shook his head, heartened at least a little that someone besides him did indeed also see this shit, and tried again: “Hey, listen, I’m sure it’s fine! …as much as it can be, considering! Look—”

He tapped his cloaking brooch, making its effects drop. “You’re among friends! Big ol’ turtle over here, c’mon! Hit me with your best shot!”

There was a pause. The guy took a deep, dramatic breath, then turned to face Leo like he thought he was the Beast from – duh – Beauty and the Beast revealing himself to Belle.

Leo didn’t have time to get more exasperated by the continued dramatics. He was too busy staring at a blue bill. “ARGENTINE RUDDY DUCK” was sent screaming across his mind, and all the fun facts he knew about that particular bird. Talk about the worst kind of coincidence.

Now, usually, gawking like Leo definitely was at a person who’d made it clear they were presently very sensitive about their looks would’ve only spelled disaster. Luckily, Duck-Guy was preoccupied gawking at Krang.

“Ew,” he said, recoiling. “What in God’s name is that?!”

Again, usually, Uno probably would’ve taken offense to that. Somethingsomething, “glory of the Krang,” yadayada. But when Leo glanced over at him, rather than looking offended, he was staring back at Duck-Guy with both tentacles pressed over his mouth, looking more genuinely horrified than Leo had ever seen him.

Krang’s eyes flicked down. He turned to Leo.

Leo glared. Do NOT.

Krang glanced back to Duck-Guy, glanced down again, looked back to Leo. Are you going to tell him??

Leo gave him an incredulous, mortified look. JESUS CHRIST, no!! He can learn that on his own time!!  

Leo was about to send him a ‘why do you even care??’ mental note (or whatever little non-verbal expression-based conversation they had going on here), when Duck-Guy interrupted with, “Ex-CUSE me?! I asked you a question, what IS that?!”

Before Leo could answer, they all jumped at a loud, “AAA??!”

Leo’s head swiveled around, stomach dropping. A human janitor stood a little ways behind him, broom in one hand, earbud held a little ways from his ear in the other. Unsurprisingly, he looked shocked at the man-sized duck and turtle (+ square tentacle-brain with a face) having a conversation in front of him.

Leo mentally flailed for a convincing lie, debated trying to knock the guy out so when he woke up he’d think it was all “just a dream” (or, alternatively, the result of the apparent head injury he’d gotten), when, suddenly, A PEACOCK!

It jumped out from behind a bush, making peacock-noises as it went. The janitor caught it – apparently Leo’s reflexes weren’t the only ones that got him in trouble sometimes. Which, usually, catching a panicking bird when it jumped at you could only result in minimum trouble, right? Except in this case, the reason why the bird was panicking and jumping was because it was being chased by an oozesquito.

Before Leo could move to do anything, the oozesquito hand plunged its nose-drinky-bit into the poor guy’s earlobe.

Hooh boy at this rate he’d probably get less crap if he claimed he hadn’t gone in to investigate this shit-show…

“…er,” Krang said, watching the janitor glow green and start rapidly growing feathers before their eyes. “What’s happening—?”

“Guy got bit by an oozesquito,” Leo explained, horrified (and kinda exasperated), from behind his hand as he also watched, unable to do anything else. “He’s mutating into the last animal he touched, which was—” He gestured at the peacock the guy had just dropped.

“Is this the process that occurs for all sentient non-human earthlings?”

“Pretty much,” Leo mumbled. “More or less. If they start as humans.”

“…it’s a bit reminiscent of Krangs’ assimilation process, honestly,” Krang noted thoughtfully. “I suppose that tracks with you all being stronger than humans…”

The formerly-human-now-peacock’s transformation came to an end. Leo, Krang, and Duck-Guy all stared at him as he gasped and regained his bearings. Slowly, he noticed them staring, and looked up.

A beat, and then his new tail feathers suddenly poofed out. He turned his head to look behind him slowly, then turned back to the rest of them, eyes wide. Another beat passed.

“…so, I know this is a big life change and everything, but that is a stunning display, sir,” Leo said approvingly.

The guy looked back at his tail feathers again, then back to Leo. “…y’think?”

“Totally! You look amazing!”

“…huh. Thanks!”

Duck-Guy screamed. The rest of them jumped.

“Don’t compliment HIM!!” he shrieked, enraged. “I’M supposed to be the one you’re complimenting!! I’M supposed to be the beautiful peacock!!”

Suddenly, he lunged at the second freshly-mutated birdman of the night. Reflexively, Leo caught him under his arms to hold him back.

“How dare you!! Are you the one who threw the duck at me?! Did Mina set you up to this—?!”

“Dude, calm down!” Leo demanded, dragging him backwards (thankfully, the guy wasn’t especially strong, even if he was off his mind on rage at the moment).

“I could stab him in the neck, if it would help…?” Krang offered, holding up a tentacle. “I could definitely reach from this distance…”

“Yeah, no, thanks, but please don’t,” Leo said firmly.

“I’ll figure out what just happened to me on my own,” said the janitor-peacock, backing away quickly from the demented duck still trying to get to him. “No worries, if anyone asks I didn’t see you, you didn’t see me, bye have a good night.”

He gathered his broom, replaced his earbud, and skedaddled.

“Give me the bird!!” Duck-Guy was screaming, redirecting his focus and trying to drag himself over to where the now well and truly traumatized peacock sat on the ground, shaking. “And that useless bug!! I’ll do it over!!”

“You cannot double-mutate yourself!” Leo insisted, rapidly approaching fed-up as he continued to pull him back. “Nothing even close to ‘good’ is gonna come from that!”

“What happens if someone ‘double-mutates’?” Krang asked in an undertone, sounding half-apprehensive, half-interested.

“No idea,” Leo muttered back, “but frankly I’m not getting paid enough to find out.”

“Since when are you getting paid?” Krang returned, unimpressed.

“Aw, Uno, does your face hurt from walking straight into my point—?”

Leo’s distraction cost him slightly: Duck-Guy managed to wrench one of his arms free. The physical jolt of it was apparently exactly what it took to close the distance between Leo and the aforementioned fed-uppedness. Now frustrated, he rotated his upper body, swinging Duck-Guy to the side by the arm he still held. He was sent stumbling a few paces when Leo let go. While he was trying to regain his footing from that, Leo unsheathed one of his swords, and slashed down.

The oozesquito that had been hovering in front of them came apart right down the middle, dead and useless. There. That was that solved, at least.

Leo grunted as a fist collided with his cheekbone, and stumbled back.

The punch hadn’t hurt-hurt – the thrower of the punch clearly didn’t know what he was doing. And judging by the way Duck-Guy was now holding his fist and wailing yet again, Leo’s face had given just as good as it’d gotten. But it was the principle of the thing – nothing he’d done had warranted a punch to the face!

Krang wasn’t happy either, for the record.

“Wretch!” he spat, mirroring Leo and pressing a tentacle to his affected cheek. “What was that for?!”

Apparently Duck-Guy had somehow missed Leo and Krang’s little back-and-forth as Leo had been trying to hold him back from further fucking himself up, because he screeched, “It talks?!”

Leo mentally swatted down a Shrek quote (“yeah but the real trick is getting him to shut up”). For once Krang wasn’t the problem, and using the quote would be taking a shot at him for no reason, funny or not.

Anyway, Dubble-Bubble had things covered on the snappy-comeback front: “Indeed, and I can do it without shrieking, miracle of miracles!” A sneer. “Given that I haven’t heard you speak a single sentence without screaming or blubbering this entire conversation, this is apparently not a trait we share. How sad.”

Duck-Guy huffed and puffed for a second, plainly offended, and while he was too busy doing that to yell anymore, Leo echoed Uno’s question: “Why did you hit me, dude??”

“‘Why did I hit you’? Why did you kill the bug?!” Duck-Guy demanded. “Now I have to go back to Dundruff to try to get another one— while looking like this—!”

Leo growled. The already scant amount of sympathy he had was being drained out of him the longer he had to listen this. “My guy, read my lips: Double mutation equals BAD IDEA, okay? I just saved you—”

“Saved me from what?! Fixing this nightmare?!”

Leo’s patience was just about as depleted as his sympathies, but before he could think of a way to phrase “I don’t know what mutating yourself twice will do, you know even less, you should not do this,” he was cut off:

“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, looking like that, but I used to be beautiful!” Snarling, Duck-Guy went on, “Just because you’re unfixably ugly doesn’t give you a right to take it out on other people!”

“At least his genitals don’t corkscrew!”

Leo turned to look at Krang, jaw hanging open. Krang was unrepentant, immovably staring daggers at Duck-Guy.

Duck-Guy apparently wasn’t up to date on his True Facts About the [Insert Animal] watching, because he barked, “What?!”

Krang gave him an unimpressed look, as if he was stupid for not immediately knowing what he meant. (Never mind that up until watching that video with Leo, he hadn’t known, either.)

“You’re a duck now,” he pointed out imperiously. “Ducks’ sex organs corkscrew – the males’ in one direction, the females’ in the opposite.” He tilted his head just slightly. “Also, after you use it, it’ll fall off. Apparently that’s unusual for your kind, so have fun with that. And that’s not even getting into the barbs…”

For a hard second, Duck-Guy looked horrified. Then abruptly, he seemed to mentally shake himself off, rolling his eyes and scoffing.

“You’re obviously lying,” he sneered. The feathers that had – presumably unconsciously – puffed up in shock slowly flattened back out a bit. “I don’t know how it works for talking fungus, but the bits for normal people— …and… animals, I guess, don’t ‘corkscrew.’”

“Mm. And I would lie about this because…?”

“Jealousy, obviously. Even like this I’m still prettier than whatever you are.”

Krang gave an amused hum, mouth slowly twisting into a smirk. “Bold claim coming from the creature whose mouth technically extends a foot out from their face.” And then, with ~PETTY~ practically flashing in neon behind his and Leo’s heads, “And whose genitals are corkscrew-shaped.”

“They are NOT—”

“They might be,” Leo said, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t know how much the mutation affected… that stuff, but it is a thing with ducks, look it up—”

“Shut UP!” Duck-Guy snapped. “Keep your ugly little nose out of it, you algae-colored moron!”

…y’know what? Fuck this guy. Leo’s sympathy for him had officially taken the next bus to Brooklyn, never to be seen again.

Krang apparently took Leo’s rising annoyance as blood in the water, because he gave a low, dark chuckle, and asked in a faux-undertone, “How might one explain that to potential partners, I wonder? Is there some sort of protocol for that, Pest?”

The neon-flashing ~PETTY~ behind them burned still brighter, and Leo was okay with that. “Nah, you pretty much have to either open with ‘so this is a little weird, but stay with me!’ or not say anything and pray they just go along with it.”

“Either option would have very high success rates, I’m sure,” Krang said sagely (if still obviously sadistically amused). Then, as if just remembering, “If I recall correctly, that that video you showed me described the duck’s genitals as ‘explosive,’ didn’t it? Surely that would complicate things a fair bit…”

“I mean – that’s one way to break the news to your boinking-buddy! SPROING here’s a shlong!”

“Ah, it would need to come out prior to the act, wouldn’t it? I suppose that’s preferable to what I’d been envisioning.”

(Duck-Guy was fuming – huffing and puffing again, too. Was it bad Leo was having as much fun as he was?)

“What the heck were you picturing that was worse?”

“That the ‘sproinging’ you just described would happen during.” Krang made a little gesture. “Launch the poor partner across the room.”

Leo surprised himself with how loud the little bark of laughter that pulled out of him was. “Waitwait no— they get launched across the room, and they get blown through the wall, and the hole’s a perfect outline of them like a cartoon!”

Krang was still grinning, but the amusement was less dark, somehow, Leo couldn’t really explain it. “Also wait, if it’s proportional to a duck’s compared to their body-length, would it even fit inside a partner—?”

“SHUT UP!!”

Leo and Krang looked back to Duck-Guy. He looked twice as big as he had because of how much his feathers had poofed up in outrage.

“How dare you stand there and talk about me like I’m not here!! How dare you stand there and talk about me LOOKING LIKE YOU DO—!!”

Krang hunkered down and leaned forward on Leo’s shoulder, balancing his head on a tentacle, intentionally looking bored. (Leo wasn’t fooled – he was still very pleased, and the sadism had slipped back into it.) Leo, meanwhile, just rolled his eyes.

Duck-Guy had said he went to college with Mina, right? If Leo was remembering things right, that would mean he went to Eastlaird. (And even if he hadn’t remembered, the guy was literally wearing an Eastlaird hoodie.) So alrighty then, Leo felt it was about time for this ducky to waddle on home!

“Hey guy,” he said, grinning as he interrupted his tantrum, “wanna see a magic trick?”

“—?? No, I do not want to see a stupid—!”

“Good!” Leo said cheerfully, taking out his swords. “Abracadabra!”

A portal opened underneath Duck-Guy. (Was portalling people away turning into Leo's finishing move? Maybe, and completely unintentionally if it was. It was just that he couldn’t argue with how quickly and cleanly it resolved things.) He fell through to Eastlaird’s campus with an actual-factual quack! as he went. 

“Sayonara, Swizzle-Dick!”

And then something weird happened: Krang laughed.

Leo had heard Krang laugh a couple times before. Mostly from back before they’d ended up attached to each other, back during the invasion. (That said something, probably, but Leo hit mute and didn’t bother listening.) It’d been pretty much exactly what you’d expect a Villain Laugh to be – dark, menacing, and dripping with vibes of “I’m better than you and I find how stupid and weak and useless you are very funny.”

That wasn’t how Krang was laughing right now. Leo’d never heard him laugh like this before. He sounded… happy? Like he wasn’t just getting off on how miserable someone else was? Like he was actually having fun?

Leo had never heard anyone laugh like that over a joke he’d made before. Most he ever really got was a snort and a good-natured shove, assuming people didn’t just groan and roll their eyes. Or have him wear a literal shock-collar to make him stop, like that one time.

Leo smiled.

Then he said, “Really? I’ve been making funnies since you got here, and this is what finally makes you crack? A dick joke?”

“Shut-shut up,” Krang said. It would’ve sounded a lot more commanding if he hadn’t been giggling the whole time.

“Wow. I mean wowww. You could’ve just told me your sense of humor was like that, Cuddlelumps, I’d’ve adjusted! We could’ve been yuckin’ it up this whole time—”

“I’m not laughing because it’s funny,” Krang insisted (still giggling, as though he found something very funny), “It’s just stupid.”

“I could’ve done ‘stupid’ too! I’ve got the range!”

“Aren’t we-aren’t we supposed to be doing something?” Krang demanded suddenly, reigning himself in (and pointedly turning away from Leo, probably to hide the fact he was still smiling). “Tracking down criminals for your like-a-sister, or something? Why are we still here?”

Leo snickered a little himself, raising his swords to open a portal. “Yeah, yeah, we’re goin’, Horchata, we’re goin’.”

Notes:

I want you to look at me, right in my beady little eyeballs, and just TRY to tell me that if Leo - ANY of the Mad Dogs, honestly - hadn't been constrained by a Y7 rating, they wouldn't have bequeathed someone the title of Swizzle-Dick. These are the boys who dubbed someone MEAT SWEATS, remember. Just try and argue with me, you can't.

Anyway yeah, that's Chett's villain name now. It's a hard-knock life for the duck. :/

Chapter 17: Field Trip!

Notes:

Seriously debated raising the rating because of this chapter, but upon reflection, I don't think anything that happens in it is any worse than something that might happen in like... a TV-14 sitcom? Which still fits within the fic's original T rating, I feel. If anyone reading has a different perspective, feel free to share, and I'll take it under advisement!

Also, this chapter was originally supposed to have four additional sections, all of which were fighting me. So okay sure, fine, those ones can be put off for just a little longer and just be the next chapter.

Also-also, forgot to add this and then the Ao3 crash prevented me from going back to do it, but I am begging all readers to go back to ch. 16 and look at the comments. The fic got some fanart, and it's BEAUTIFUL.

Gemini’s had a bouncer standing out front, checking IDs before letting people in. The place was a club or something, apparently, which likely meant it was serving some of the ol’ sauce inside. So yeah, carding people at the door made sense.

The problem: Leo hadn’t grabbed any ID when he’d popped out for this little adventure. He hadn’t thought he’d need it. And yes, he did have ID – all his bros did. They were for their cloaking-brooch-selves, granted, but they had them. April wanted to go clubbing together once everyone was of age, so they’d invested in some.

…after Donnie had forged everyone birth certificates and social security numbers. Still. They were all technically officially New York citizens at this point.

Now, under different circumstances, Leo would’ve just Face Man’d the guy into letting him in without an ID. But considering he lived in a world where he was a. A world-class ninja, and b. The proud owner of swords that let him teleport besides, he decided to skip that step.

“Why are you leaving?” Krang asked. Leo hadn’t even realized he’d poked his head out of his shellpack. “Isn’t that the place you were trying to get to right there?”

“Yeah, but I’d have to get through the guy in front to get in, and I don’t wanna bother right now. I’m gonna double the block to the back of the building so no one waiting in line sees me portal through a wall.”

“Oh.” Then, “I don’t think it would take you that much effort to ‘get through him,’ honestly. Not only is he a mere human – which, realistically, could only give you a certain amount of trouble, and nothing beyond that – but you fought that— oh what’d you call it… ‘hippo’?”

“Yep,” Leo said, nodding in confirmation as he ducked into an alley.

“Right – you fought that hippo-thing, and it was far bigger than the human guarding the entrance. You could dispatch him easily.”

“Thanks, I s’pose,” Leo said, turning a corner, putting Gemini’s out of sight, “but that’s not the kind of ‘get through’ I meant. If I tried to fight him I’d get the cops called on me for attacking a guy just doing his job. Which. Not especially helpful to our goal, here? His whole deal is he wants my papers and stuff.”

“Your ‘papers’?”

“Yeah, y’know, like. The official ID stuff that has my age and junk on it. Check to make sure I’m old enough to get in.”

“Humans place age limits on entry to certain build—? Oh. They give you that tequila swill in there, don’t they?”

Leo snorted a little without meaning to. “I mean I don’t know if they serve tequila specifically, but that’s probably part of it, yeah.”

Krang grumbled, but let the topic die there. “So what’s the plan once we are inside, however we get there?”

Leo had reached the back of the club. There wasn’t much back there but a dumpster and some cigarette butts scattered across the pavement, probably flicked away by employees after their smoke-break was over. He ducked down next to the dumpster just to make sure he wasn’t visible as he and Krang debriefed.

“We go in, and I ask around for a ‘Kim West.’ The cop said she works here, so it’s not like we’ll have to mingle with anybody who’s in there dancing or trying to have fun. My guess is she’s a bartender – maybe a manager or something – so we’ll start there. Once we find her, I schmooze with her a little, get her comfortable, and then try to steer the conversation towards the SBB so I can pick her brain on it a little. If we’re lucky, as soon as I mention the guy she’ll start talking about what she saw without me having to ask, but we’ll have to play that bit by ear.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Leo blinked. “Uh… not really? Even if you weren’t literally stuck to me, you kinda stand out as ‘not normal’ ’round these parts. We’re trying to keep a low profile here.” Raising a brow, he asked, “Did you actually want to do something?”

“Well. Yes.”

Confusion sat heavy on Leo’s brain. “Why?”

Krang huffed, slumping so he was staring up at the sky. “Because I haven’t done anything for weeks. I’ve existed nearby while you did things…”

Ah. Okay. That tracked.

...Jesus Leo hadn’t thought about it until that moment, but it must be really, really boring to be someone’s parasite…

“After this we’ll try and find ya a hobby or something, sound good?” Leo asked. He didn’t have the time or energy to dedicate to Krang’s woes at the moment. “For now try to keep things stealth, okay?”

Krang made a face. It was weird to classify it as pouting, but like… if the shoe fits…!

“What if you get the information you’re looking for and you learn where this person’s holed up? Surely you won’t need to ‘keep a low profile’ for that?”

Leo gave him an unimpressed look. “Uno. Babe. Once we’re done here we’re going home, whether we get the info we’re after or not. I’m not going after this guy by myself.”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re at risk of get your spine broken. You said it was in the back, right? Your spine is protected by your shell— …your spine is inside your shell.” Krang’s brow creased. He glanced down at where he’d crawled out of Leo’s shellpack, then looked back to him. “…do you have a spine?”

…holy shit did he..??

“You’re the one with an inside look of things, Uno!” Leo said, deflecting from the fact that he didn’t actually know. “You tell me!”

“I can’t actually see anything in there,” Krang returned. “And I’m not actually… touching anything, either? Nothing like organs or bones, at least. It’s more… I’m in a pocket when I’m in your shell.”

Hm. That didn’t sound… normal. Though now that Leo thought about it, he couldn’t ever remember learning that turtles didn’t have a little pocket separating their shell from their internal stuff…

“Is that a Krang-thing that you know of, or should I maybe consider going to get that checked out…?”

“Krang can make lesser beings grow extra limbs, Pest. I wouldn’t deem the creation of a pocket something to worry about.”

…fair point.

Krang must’ve decided that was all the discussion the topic needed to have, because he waved it off with a tentacle. “Whatever. Your back is very strong one way or another. It would probably be more comical than anything to watch someone try to break it.”

Leo made a face, but looked away to cover it up. “I can tell ya from experience it doesn’t feel too comical, Tentacruel.” He shook his head. “Anyway, whether I got a spine or not, that’s not happening. We’re just getting info to bring back to everyone else, so we can go after this guy together, remember?”

Leo had to think of his team. Wasn’t like he was worth much of anything without them, anyway.

Krang gave a long, displeased exhale, but disappeared into Leo’s shellpack after that. That probably indicated compliance, right? Leo decided to take it as such.

Leo walked over to the corner of the building farthest from the dumpster (and therefore farthest away from the back door that employees presumably came and went from to chuck things into said dumpster). He took out his swords, and cut open a portal. It let out only about a foot or so where he’d be entering it, but considering he was only trying to bypass a wall that ought to be more than far enough.

He paused, suddenly realizing something, and looked down at his swords. Generally speaking, it was kinda-sorta frowned upon to bring weapons into any sort of establishment. So frowned upon that it might get you arrested, actually. And unfortunately, his weapons weren’t like his brothers’, which were small enough where they could at least sorta be tucked away (or collapsible to the same effect).

Leo worried his bottom lip, glancing at the dumpster. He wasn’t going to be in here long (he hoped), and it was pretty dead out here… would it be safe to just sort of hide them? It wasn’t like he’d need them to get back out; they didn’t check IDs to allow you to leave. And anyway it’d be a massive waste of time to call it quits now before he’d actually even gotten started (or, worse, get the cops called on him because he’d made someone inside nervous).

He exhaled through his nose, frustrated with himself at his poor planning, but not seeing any other alternative at this point. The portal should stay open just long enough for him to duck into after he set his swords down if he hustled. He jogged over to the dumpster and gently tucked his swords behind it, saying a quick prayer that they’d still be there when he came back out. He ran back to the portal he’d opened, said another quick prayer that he wasn’t about to walk into a woman’s restroom or something, and jumped through.

It was a bathroom he’d just walked into, but judging by the urinals lining the wall he doubted it was a women’s. Bonus, it seemed to presently be empty. He could walk out like nothing, and nobody who saw him would think anything of it.

Leo’s relaxed a little in relief. So far so good.

The bathroom was pretty swanky, honestly – clean and sleek looking. Which was a good sign that the rest of the club was probably pretty upscale too. Bathrooms were usually a pretty good indicator on the quality of the rest of the building. He could hear the muffled thump of music coming from outside.

He squared his shoulders a little, getting his game-face on and moving towards the sound. Okay, Kimmy – be a lamb and be real easy to find out there, yeah?

Leo exited the bathroom, and immediately stumbled to a halt.

So. Leo had assumed – which, yeah yeah, “makes an ass outta u and me” and everything, lesson learned, please get off his dick – he had assumed from the bouncer out front, and the fact that one of the employees here apparently got off at 3am, that this was a club of some sort. Reasonable enough thing to infer, right? As such, he’d been expecting to walk out into a sea of people dancing and drinking.

There were people dancing! And this was most definitely a kind of club!

It just wasn’t the kind that required everyone to wear clothes!!

Leo ducked back into the bathroom, eyes wide.

So! So he was! In a strip club! That... definitely hadn’t been on his bingo card for the night! Or the month, but whatever! This meant it’d be the first time he was around naked people since he was a tot and Dad used to throw him and his brothers in the tub together to save time (and how much water he’d have to wipe up off the floor). But that was fine!

Leo looked back towards the door he’d just retreated back through. He’d started pacing. He was in a weird mental place where he was aware he wasn’t… panicking, exactly (thank God), but his thoughts were moving very, very fast. He didn’t know how to slow them down.

During his three second visual sweep of the club, his eyes had settled in one spot in particular. It’d been on a specific dancer crawling up the stage, and he hadn’t been able to help noticing something as a result.

The dancer had been a guy. He was in a male strip club.

Leo slapped either side of his face a few times, trying to ground himself. It was fine. It was fine! This didn’t change anything. He was a mature, focused adult. He’d go out there, maturely focus on the task at hand, and track down Kim West. He’d be his usual self and charm the pants off her— except not literally!! Obviously! Enough of that going on already with the guys out there—

He’d talk to her and find out what she knew about the Spine Breaking Bandit. That was the plan, that’s what he was going to do. Yeah? Yeah. Okay break good huddle team.

Leo shook his arms out quickly, trying to reset himself, then turned on his heel to leave the bathroom again. Which, his resolve almost back to normal, meant that of course that was the perfect moment for the peanut gallery to offer commentary.

“Pest?” Krang called up. Leo’s stomach flipped. “What’s wrong? Something feels… odd. Are you—?”

“I’m great!” Leo insisted, hoping the crack in his voice wasn’t as obvious as it seemed to him. “Everything’s good! Don’t come out!”

As he left the bathroom a second time, he glanced around the club again. A stage (keep your eyes moving), people pressed in close to the stage, tables, guys wandering around to talk to guests (wearing not a lot – keep scanning, never let your eyes rest, focus Leo!), and—

Boom! A bar! He could ask the bartender if Kim was around! Perfect!

He was about a third of the way there when his reflexes decided to screw him over yet again. It was a small thing, too, which made it even more annoying:

Leo caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Reflexively, he looked.

There was a guy doing an upside-down splits halfway up a pole. He was wearing nothing but a G-string.

Leo’s face instantly burst into flame (normal turtles didn’t have to worry about stuff like that! Thanks Dad!), and a voice from inside his shellpack exclaimed, “What the fuck??”

Oh. Ohh no. Krang could feel everything he did, and currently he felt—

Leo’s eyes snapped forward again while resuming his (now notably speedier) walk to the bar. His stomach rolled. It’d been a while since he’d last been this embarrassed…

Krang was crawling up the shellpack, presumably just to see what was happening. Leo hissed, “Be quiet! And stay in there! There’s people everywhere in here!”

As if to prove his point, his path to the bar was cut off by what looked like a marauding bachelorette party, all seeming about two sheets to the wind. They were all gleefully shuffling past to try to get seats in front of the main stage. Leo stood and waited impatiently for them to pass.

“What just happened?” Krang demanded back. He was ignoring his request to be silent, but at least he wasn’t moving to come out anymore.

Though, honestly, Leo might’ve preferred having to explain why an alien had just crawled out of his backpack to an entire strip club over actually answering his question.

“It’s— it’s nothing. Just feeling a little under the weather suddenly, I’ll push through it, relax—”

“Pest, I am aware what a surge of mating hormones feels like, I experience it every five years,” Krang snapped. “I want to know why you just got hit with about fifteen years’ worth of them right this moment. Is it just extremely unfortunate timing, or is the building pumping out pheromones through its vents or some—? What am I looking at.”

He had pushed himself the rest of the way out of the shellpack before Leo could tell him not to. Just peeking, honestly – thanks to Leo’s shell currently being brooched into a backpack, his head was covered by its flap, so really the only parts visible on him were his eyes. And even then, someone would probably have to actually look to really see him. He was trying to be discreet, at least. For all the good that did right now, considering.

 “Pest?” Krang prompted again, more insistent.

Leo shifted his weight uncomfortably. How many girls were in this bachelorette party? It was practically a full conga-line at this point. ~Dun-dun-dun-dun-da-da— HURRY UP ALREADY.

“So, um… this is a place where humans will come to watch other humans, um… take their… clothes off?” Leo shifted his weight again. “The whole point is to make people feel the—” He coughed. “The ‘mating hormones.’”

“Mission accomplished, apparently,” Krang mumbled.

(Leo was abruptly realizing the benefits that would’ve come with the guy beating him to death three years prior.)

“Look elsewhere,” Krang said suddenly. “I cannot fathom why this would elicit any sort of physical response from you – or anyone else – but it’s getting worse.”

Leo’s whole expression scrunched, feeling chastised and embarrassed and over-scrutinized. “One, I’m staring dead ahead, not looking at any of… that, and two, ‘it’ is staying exactly the same.”

“It’s not,” Krang insisted, and he sounded a little… squeakier than usual? Strained? Both? “It’s definitely getting worse.”

Leo’s brow furrowed. “Maybe you should stop looking at them, dude…”

To his shock, Krang ducked back into his shellpack without another word.

The bachelorette-conga finally passed by, and Leo closed the space between him and the bar. He fell into a stool, feeling too warm in the clothes the cloaking brooch had put him in and wanting to die just a little bit. The bartender was at the other end at the moment, talking to some lady. She looked to be anywhere from early to mid-thirties, with a tattoo of a shark on her left bicep.

She finished up with the gal she was talking to, and walked over.

“What can I getcha, baby?” she asked.

Okay. Go-time. Shove everything else to the backburner – time to focus.

Leo’s expression snapped into something nonchalant, and he gave her a smile. “I was actually wondering if you could answer a question for me, if that’s cool?”

“I can try. Hit me.”

“Is ‘Kim West’ working tonight?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

Wow! Literal first person he asked! The universe actually listened when he’d asked it to make this girl easy to find! That was rare!

It did kind of knock his plan to try to bring up the SBB naturally and hope she’d automatically fill in the gaps a little crooked, though. Now that he’d asked for her specifically, it wasn’t like he could go “Oh, nothing, never mind – so hey how about crime in New York these days? Awful right? Let’s talk about that for a while.”

If he’d prepared more of a script for different outcomes, maybe he could swing it, but the unexpected glimpse of all the abs and thighs and ass had (justifiably!) thrown him a little off his game.

So okay, he was just gonna go for it. Moment of truth: “A little birdy told me that you caught a glimpse of the Spine Breaking Bandit a bit ago? Was there anything more to that story, by chance?”

Kim’s eyes narrowed, her entire demeanor shifting. Uh oh. “What ‘little birdy’ did you hear that from, exactly?”

Krang was moving in his shellpack. He didn’t leave, but he was now definitely sitting up close to the top, presumably peeking out again. In fact, Leo felt confident in saying he was staring.

“Friend of a friend of a friend, that whole deal,” Leo said breezily, reaching over his shoulder to give the top of his shellpack a firm shove, pushing his parasite back to the bottom.  “The ol’ grapevine, you know how it is.”

Kim didn’t look convinced. “And why do you want to know, exactly?”

Leo paused a second, then looked down at the bar, taking a breath.

“A friend of mine was one of the guys he attacked,” he lied quietly. “It’s been years, and the cops still don’t seem any closer to catching him. At this rate I don’t think they ever will, so I’m looking into things myself. Your name came up – something about how you saw the guy fleeing the most recent crime scene? – and it got mentioned that you might know more than you’ve told anyone.”

He looked back up. “I’m not gonna repeat anything you tell me to anyone official if that’s what you’re worried about, I swear. I just… need some help here.”

Kim was quiet for a second, staring at him with her upper body leaning on her arms across the bar.

“…‘looking into’ a guy that’s seriously injured people on your own is really dangerous,” she said finally. “You’re how old, exactly?”

“Thirty-five,” Leo supplied quickly.

Kim wasn’t impressed.

“Thirty-five?” she repeated, and Leo nodded. “You barely look twenty…”

“And this is why we moisturize!” Leo returned, balancing his chin on the back of his hand and grinning. Letting his expression fall back to something more serious, he went on, “I’m not saying I want to personally take him down or try to vigilante him for revenge or something. It’s just that the police aren’t making headway, probably because there’s a bunch more cases happening at the same time that they also need to focus on. I just want to try to maybe figure out where or who the guy is so I can drop an anonymous tip or something that might help them get him.” He let his eyes go soft in what was hopefully an earnest-seeming, sad sort of way. “Please.”

Kim stared at him a moment more, brow furrowed, then sighed. “Here’s the thing – I didn’t see the guy running away from that last guy’s apartment…”

Leo’s stomach dropped, thinking this whole outing was just another dead-end, but then she went on, “I saw him in an apartment.”

Leo’s hopes buoyed back up, and he sat a little straighter.

Kim drummed her fingers on the bar, apparently trying to dredge up the right words. Finally, she amended, “I saw him in my ex’s apartment, about a week ago.” Then, making an unsure sort of face, “I think.”

“Start at the beginning and walk me through it, Kimmy,” Leo said, leaning against the bar himself now.

Kim chewed the inside of her cheek for a second, then began, “So me and my ex broke up like three months ago, right? Well, before we’d broken up, I’d left my laptop at his apartment. Every time I tried to text him about giving it back he’d ghost me, and the few times I went over to try to get it he ‘wasn’t home.’” She scoffed, disgusted. “Which is bullshit, because I know I heard him moving around in there while I was at his door knocking. So sometime last week I finally got sick of the run around, and just decided to go get it out of his apartment myself. The asshole’ll have to go back watching his porn on his phone, boo-fucking-hoo.

“He has a ‘boys’ night’ every Friday, and doesn’t usually get back until like four, five in the morning. So last week I had one of the boys cover for me here for a bit while I went over to his place while he wasn’t around. Figured it’d be perfect – this way, if he tried to accuse me of breaking in to steal my laptop back, I’d have the alibi that I was working. He’s one of those morons who hides a key into his apartment on top of the doorframe, so I go over there, I grab the key, I go in. Smooth sailing so far.

“Once I’m in, I start looking around, checking all the usual spots he stashes things, y’know, and I start getting a really weird feeling out of nowhere. That whole ‘eyes on your back’ feeling. And at first I think, ‘oh fuck, this is the one Friday he didn’t go out, and he’s in here with me,’ so I’m just waiting for him to flip on the lights and start bawling me out. But then I start thinking about it, and nothing about that idea’s adding up. If he were home, why were all his lights off? Why would he just be sitting around in the dark doing nothing? Why would he let me creep around, looking for something that’s not his but that he wants to keep, instead of just being like ‘Kim what the fuck are you doing here?’ It didn’t make sense.

“I’m just freaking myself out more and more the longer I think about it, so I try to hurry things up. I clear the living room, my laptop’s not there, so I go into the second bedroom that Elijah just uses for storage and shit to have a quick look through there. Then, as my back’s turned, I feel something come up behind me, so I spin around and I just swing.”

“You hit him?” Leo clarified, incredulous and slightly impressed.

Kim huffed, looking disappointed. “No. Whoever it was jumped back and I missed.” She gave Leo an intense look. “But there was someone behind me, and it definitely wasn’t my ex. As soon as they jumped back they sprinted out of the room and down the hall. Then, because apparently I’m an idiot, I chased after them. Adrenaline, or something – at the time all I could think was ‘I have to find out who that is.’ Except as soon as I caught up to him, the SOB jumped out a window. Elijah’s apartment is four stories up, I thought I’d just watched someone commit suicide. I run to the window, look out, and the same fucking guy is sprinting down the street. I see him go into an apartment building further down, and then that’s that. He’s gone.”

“Did you happen to get a decent look at him?” Leo asked.

“No,” Kim said. “It was too dark. I didn’t turn on any of the lights while I was in there. I didn’t want to risk anyone from the apartments across the street seeing me, and coming forward if my ex decided to report my laptop being ‘stolen’ to the police. I’d been going through his apartment just using the flashlight on my phone. Then when the guy came up behind me, I jumped and dropped it.”

Leo frowned. Darn.

She slumped further down onto the bar. “At first I just thought it was a random – very scary, but still random – thing, but then yesterday the news broke that the spine-breaker’s back, and I just thought… ‘holy fucking shit, was that the guy? Was Elijah supposed to be his first victim of however long he’s planning on terrorizing people this go-around?’ My friends think I’m nuts, because ‘if it was the spine-breaker, why didn’t he, y’know, break your spine?’ but still. I went to the police to say I’d seen something.”

She sighed again. “Problem is, I couldn’t exactly go to tell them exactly what I saw, considering that would mean I’d have to be like ‘yeah, I only saw this guy because I broke into this guy’s apartment myself.’ I tried to give them a hint about where he might’ve gone – I said I saw him run off in the direction of that one apartment – as best I could without incriminating myself, but…”

She trailed off.

“…did you at least get your laptop back?”

Kim snorted. “Oh yeah. I wasn’t about to leave it there after all that.” She shrugged. “Finally found it under his bed.”

Leo gave her a half smile. “That’s good, at least.” Then, “Did you notice any… just, general weirdness? Did you notice anything off-looking while you were scoping out his apartment?” Then, feeling like he was answering his own question, he added, “In the dark?”

As expected, Kim began to shake her head, but then, unexpectedly, she paused.

“I mean… I don’t know if this counts, but while I was going through I saw a really ugly end table that definitely hadn’t been there when I’d been dating Elijah.” She wrinkled her nose. “Like, I cannot overstate how gross this thing was, I would’ve remembered if it’d been there. But, here’s the thing, I can’t remember if I saw it on my way out when I left. Which, I was pretty rattled at that point, checking to see if the world’s ugliest furniture was still there and still ugly wasn’t really high on my priority list. But the guy I swung at wasn’t holding anything when he jumped out the window, so I don’t know what happened to it if it wasn’t there…”

Leo tilted his head. “I mean… if the guy didn’t have it with him when he left, you were probably just freaked out like you said, and didn’t look back at it before you left. I mean…” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Where else could it have gone?

She shifted uncomfortably. “The only thing I can think of is that there were actually two guys in there with me. That would make sense if it was the Spine Breaking Bandit, right? One guy goes in and takes whatever they’ve gone in to steal, and the other attacks the victim as like… a distraction? Dunno about you, but if someone was breaking my spine, I wouldn’t be super concerned with my television or whatever getting stolen. It’d also be a way to throw the cops off, since they’d only ever be on the lookout for one guy…”

Hm. That was definitely a theory... he'd pitch it to April. “Which apartment building did he run into after he jumped?”

“The one on 63^rd,” she replied. Which, how she expected the cops to figure out he’d gone there just by giving them “a hint” about the direction they’d gone was kind of insane. That was a ways away from the other victim’s apartment, which was allegedly where she’d seen him run from.

As if just realizing something, she asked, “You’re just gonna go to the police about this, right? You’re not gonna try to go confront whoever it is? Even if it wasn’t dangerous – which, again, it is – there’s no promise he’s permanently living in that apartment building. For all we know, he just ducked into the lobby for a second to hide out.”

Leo mumbled noncommittally. Kim looked frustrated.

“Well,” he said, slapping the bar good-naturedly. “Not a heck of a lot more damage I can cause around this place! Thank you so so much for all the info! I appreciate it a lot!” Pushing himself to his feet, he tapped two fingers to his brow in a little salute, clicking his tongue and saying, “Have a great night, Kimmy! Thanks again!”

She muttered, “Uh, yeah, sure, you’re welcome,” and Leo turned around to leave.

…and immediately ran face-first into the toned pecs of a six-foot-something, wearing what looked like a Tarzan getup (that was to say: he wasn’t wearing much). The guy mumbled “sorry, excuse me,” as he looked down at him.

He had a good jaw and cheekbones that could cut glass. Leo liked guys with strong features. Well, honestly, it was more that he liked guys who looked more mature (Jupiter Jim Don Suave there was a list leave him alone). His brothers gave him crap for it literally whenever “types” came up, even when Leo was minding his own business and not even part of the conversation. Which, he gave them crap for their tastes, too, so fair’s fair. But honestly that was just because unlike him, their tastes were terrible.

Anyway: Hot guy. Leo’s type. Basically naked right in front of him. His mind moving like a zillion miles a minute. Krang now making a very strangled, very noticeable sound from inside the shellpack.

Leo laughed nervously, blushing so hard he was scared it was going to stain his face, and side-stepped around the guy, muttering an apology of his own. Then he put his head down and sped-walked to the bathroom.

Of course, once he got to the bathroom, several seconds after burying his face in his hands, because oh my god oh my god, he realized that, just because this had been his point of entry, he couldn’t presently leave from here. His swords were outside.

Which meant he’d have to turn his tail around and walk alllll the way back through all that.

He did! Don’t worry! Very bravely and maturely! He kept his thoughts very clean the whole way through, because like it or not he had an audience to every affect his thoughts had on him, and what he’d already experienced was enough, thanks!!

(…he tried to keep his thoughts very clean! He was just ever so slightly in hell! The second he got home he was taking a shower on an “ice” setting!)

When he finally, finally made it back to the rear-side of the building, he rounded the corner just in time to see two kids jump and then sprint away with two oblong objects under one of their arms.

Two long, sword-shaped objects.

At least shouting at and then chasing after two little jerks served well enough to shake particular thoughts out of his head… (All the same, Jesus H. Christ what a friggin night.)

Chapter 18: Perspectives and Heat Transfers

Notes:

I don’t think anyone could reasonably argue that Leo’s brothers don’t love him with all their hearts, but I don’t think a single one understands him. Not nearly to the degree he does them, at any rate. See Many Unhappy Returns and the beginning of the movie for details.

(This phenomenon is not helped in the slightest by Leo, the little scamp, never actually COMMUNICATING with his brothers. About anything. See Many Unhappy Returns and the beginning of the movie and a chunk of the whole series for details.)

Oh, also: WE GOT ANOTHER ONE, LADS! More fanart in the previous chapter's comments, go look at it! My world literally gets brighter whenever people draw things for all the run-on sentences I throw in front of everyone's eyeballs!

Raph should’ve been asleep hours ago. He had work tomorrow; getting up was going to be hell if he didn’t fall asleep soon. Which, of course, meant the time he’d need to wake up was practically standing over him, staring down at him in bed. Which then meant he was obviously left counting how many hours of sleep he’d get if he fell asleep right at that moment. Which, because of the pressure of it all, obviously didn’t happen.

Leo had been acting weird.

Except not… not really. Except yeah, kinda. He’d been fine today. Nothing unusual or noteworthy that Raph had seen. And lately, it felt like he was the only one looking. It was his behavior yesterday that was sitting on Raph’s chest (he’d had trouble sleeping last night, too, for the record).

They’d all gotten into a fight with some villains. Nothin’ new there. And it’d just been the Crab Bros. (Raph could never remember their names), so the stakes had been pretty low. Cool. Routine scrap. Get through it and move on with their day, right?

Leo had been the only one scrapping. He’d gone and cleared the whole scene before any of the rest of them had even managed to get their feet back under them after the first punch (claw?) was thrown. Really focused on the task at hand, he’d taken them out like it was nothing.

Which was really, really not like the guy who tried to make a point to be as lax as possible, always.

Raph rolled onto his side. Maybe he was overthinking things. Leo had kinda done this once before, hadn’t he? Back after the invasion when he’d been training his brains out? Or hey, on a less heavy matter, pretty much every Lair Games they’d ever had? He got these wild hairs up his butt every now and again – when he zeroed-in on something, he really zeroed-in. Hadn’t Raph even thought about how much more responsible Leo had become after the invasion? Like, excessively so? Right before… before this whole mess started…

Raph’s Chasm came out. He was more responsible. More than he had been, at least. Which, considering how little he took anything seriously back before, meant now he was just below average. It’d probably only seemed excessive back before because it was far and away from how Leo usually acted.

Besides. The fact that Leo had been on the ball during that fight wasn’t what was really bothering Raph, anyway. Because Leo hadn’t just been “on the ball.” He hadn’t just been zeroed-in.

He’d been vicious.

Raph had initially felt at least tentatively sure that the Krang wasn’t able to zombify his brother as it was. If that was even something this one personally could do, which he doubted. He’d still worried about it plenty, but it’d kind of been like how as a kid, he’d been worried the big worm from Beetlejuice would break into the Lair and eat everybody. The thought scared him so bad that he was on edge from it, but deep down he knew it wasn’t very likely, not really.

Yeah. No. He was second-guessing all that now. (The Krang-related bits, anyway – he still felt pretty sure they were all safe from the worm.)

Leo had never fought like that before. Not against everyday-villains, anyway. There’d been a point where, just for a second, Raph had been scared Leo wouldn’t stop unless someone else made him stop. That he’d keep wailing on the crabs until they were dead. Something about the look on his face…

That wasn’t what had happened, obviously – once it was clear they weren’t going to fight anymore, Leo had just portalled them off somewhere. But the fact that it’d even been a concern in the first place had Raph rattled. That wasn’t like Leo. That was like the Krang.

Was it affecting Leo’s brain? It was obviously doing something to him – his eyes were still yellow. And it felt increasingly unlikely that they’d go back to normal, even after he and the Krang were finally separated. Was the Krang just taking the proverbial scenic route, and krangifying Leo slowly over the whole course of their time together? And then, the longer it stayed attached, the less of Leo would be left?

Raph imagined a point where he looked into Leo’s eyes, and instead saw the thing that had forced its way through his memories. It made his heart beat harder and a lump form in his throat. It made him want to bust into his little brother’s room then and there, pull him into a hug and never let go.

He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d told Leo how much he loved him. He felt like he was running out of time to say it to him. (Was that crazy? He felt crazy. But what if he wasn’t?) He hadn’t been able to do it recently, because that felt like he’d be personally handing the Krang ammo to use against Leo when the two were alone. “He’s lying, he’s weak, you’re weak,” the typical villain slop. Anything it could say to hurt Leo, and it would’ve been Raph that prompted it.

Raph felt anger start to heat his chest up from the inside, and he let it happen. He wasn’t usually an angry guy (or at least, he tried not to be), but right then, it felt way better than the nauseating worry that had been stirring up his guts. He wouldn’t let that happen. Either scenario.

He wasn’t gonna let the Krang hurt Leo. He wasn’t gonna let it take him over. Come tomorrow, he’d be all over the pair of them. If anything seemed even slightly off, he’d be able to call it out right away. Maybe letting the slimy little creep know he was onto it would shake it up enough to make it back off.

…after work, anyway. Which he still needed to go to sleep for. Ugh.

Raph rolled over again, grabbed his phone, and shot a “hey. u up?” to Casey. She’d be able to shut his mind up, at least a little bit…

---

Donnie should’ve gone to bed hours ago. Not that it wasn’t unusual or unheard of for him to miss the window of optimum sleep, but let the record show he always made an attempt to turn in at a decent time.

…provided he wasn’t neck-deep in the middle of a project, of course. That was an extenuating circumstance. Science waited for no turtle, and frankly took precedence over most else, anyway.

But he wasn’t working on a project tonight. Not one he was in the thick of, at least. He was presently in the middle of re-reading some of Draxum’s notes. 

At Leo’s insistence (and then Dad’s, since Leo had blurted out he had empyrean whilst under the influence), Donnie had contacted Draxum to gain deeper insight on the mystic aspect of the materials he was working with. It had gone about as well as he’d anticipated.

That was to say, somewhere between mildly and wildly infuriating.

Draxum had forbade him from working with empyrean alone. Apparently, Leo’s concerns of him accidentally triggering an explosion (or something equally detrimental to his health) were more valid than Donnie had initially wanted to give him credit for. Draxum had been appalled when he’d explained what he’d done. He’d then proceeded to lecture him for roughly thirty minutes on the volatile nature of empyrean, and how, ahem, “monstrously boneheaded” it was for a layman to attempt to work with it.

Imagine. Someone lecturing Donatello on lab safety. Oh, the indignity—!

Draxum had gone so far as to confiscate the samples that Donnie had collected for himself, despite him getting them fair and square, specifically for his own personal study. Pointing this out had garnered no sympathy, from Draxum or Dad. Pointing out that Donnie was, in fact, an adult, NOT a child, and therefore didn’t need anyone’s permission to work on things as he liked, had been met with similar reactions. With the addition of Raph arriving on the scene to put him in a headlock when he tried to stop Draxum from collecting his samples, heedless of Donnie’s protests.

As a result, Donnie had more or less been relegated to the role of Draxum’s assistant for this project, which was overwhelmingly frustrating. He’d taken on the endeavor with the hopes of covering the scientific blind-spots Draxum might be missing mystically. Being forced to follow his lead was counterproductive to that. It made Donnie feel useless.

(So, basically, same as he’d been feeling for the past month or so.)

Donnie didn’t understand why he was the only one who seemed to see any urgency in actually removing the Krang. Even when it had first revealed itself, everyone else had been hesitant to do much more than trying to talk about the situation – as though the concept of a verbal solution was even marginally viable. That thing had nearly beaten Leo to death. And now it was alone with him all the time. Why had everyone been content to just talk?

That might not be fair. Everyone was doing all they could. Donnie didn’t care. It wasn’t enough.

Leo was among the people who didn’t feel it was especially imperative to deal with Krang, or at least that was what his patented lack of bother was indicating. He’d joked and japed when the Krang first revealed himself, and lately he seemed almost comfortable with the thing…

Donnie huffed, brow furrowing. He hadn’t absorbed a single sentence he’d just read. It didn’t help that mysticism wasn’t as gloriously straight-forward as science or tech – there were about a dozen exceptions to practically every “rule” it tried to set, and a million different ways each that one of those exceptions could affect the end result of whatever you were working on. He backtracked a few paragraphs to try again.

 It wasn’t that Leo was arrogant, per se, it was that he was deluded. He was good at a lot of little things, which he decided meant he’d be good at everything. Because he thought it was a given he’d be good at whatever he tried, he didn’t bother to take anything seriously, or really focus much at all. Make no mistake, when he really truly did focus he succeeded at quite a lot. He just… didn’t often do that. And his assuredness in himself drastically affected his ability to gauge danger. He utilized so much of his time and energy trying to be “funny” that he often didn’t pay proper attention to things that could hurt him.

Donnie didn’t judge him for this, not really. He became more than a little annoyed with him now and then, but truly, show him a pair of brothers who didn’t get annoyed with each other. He’d unveil a mirror and show you a liar.

Donnie imagined a Lair Games absent of Leo’s irritating showboating. Or evening patrol absent of stupid puns. He imagined birthdays with only one cake.

The Krang tried to make all of that a reality.

Donnie dropped the notes onto his workstation, leaning back in his chair and pressing his palms into his eyes.

He had to do something. He just had to do something. He had to do something.

…perhaps he was approaching this from the wrong angle. He sat back up in his chair, removing his hands from his eyes.

He’d been doggedly pursuing immediate, earthen methods to remove the Krang. Logically, considering that “homebrew” solutions were really the only ones he had access to presently.  But it was rapidly becoming clear that, if such a thing were even possible, it was presently beyond his scope to suss it out. For as much as he’d historically been the solution-finder, problem-solver, and malfunctioning-tech-fixer, Leo wasn’t tech. Donnie simply didn’t know enough about what was happening to him to fix him. So instead, Draxum was the man stepping up to the plate this time around.

Draxum had this particular investigation essentially handled on his own, and didn’t really need any help with it. While Donnie would still insist on being part of the process (even if he wasn’t leading the investigation – oof, still hurt to have to acknowledge that), he was abundantly aware that his abilities to contribute were woefully limited.

How-EVER. If there was one thing Donnie prided himself in, it was his ability to learn. He stood by his initial assessment that it was stupid to let Leo’s safety ride on a single possible solution. One they didn’t even have proof was even viable yet. He didn’t know enough about empyrean to work with it. Draxum didn’t know enough about the Krang to guarantee if the altered empyrean would be enough to separate the thing from Leo.

Aha! But you know who did likely know enough about the Krang as to definitively say what might remove one from their host?

The Krang had claimed that once one of them took a host, there was no separating them until the process was complete. But then, it would be in its best interest to claim that, wouldn’t it? Donnie had since been forced to acknowledge the probable truth behind his claims that trying to separate them through traditional means would likely be fatal to both. He now thought back to his demands to attempt to essentially perform brain surgery on Leo and shuddered – it was one of the few if only time he was glad to have been stopped before pursuing a scientific endeavor.

But! While that might be true, it in no way indicated that it was being truthful that there was no way to separate them! It was just as likely that information was omitted, and then covered with a quick lie since none of them knew any better! Therefore, it would just be a matter of brushing that lie to the side, and learning better!

His panic and worry for Leo had driven him away from the most obvious method of solving a problem, like some sort of half-witted fool (and THIS was why emotions were inferior to logic, if anyone was wondering!!). He needed to address the problem at its source. He needed to go through the Krang.

If he could get a closer look at the Krang, perhaps get a sample, maybe even employ a clever psychological trick to make it let information slip, he’d be able to compose a solution, surely.

Yes. Yes, that should do it! He’d begin his investigation tomorrow! …or whenever he next had an excuse to get near the Krang! It’d likely seem suspicious if he sought him or Leo out directly. He’d have to wait until Leo and himself were doing something with the group at large, lest he tip the Krang off to what sort of information he was trying to glean and make him put his guard up.

Before he did anything with that, though, he’d try to make sense of this mystic-mess. He would not be outdone by this magic-adjacent buffoonery! Even if it didn’t end up achieving the desired goal, it was the principle of the matter!

Donnie picked up Draxum’s notes once again, trying to read through with new eyes.

---

Mikey’s brain felt fried, in a really really bad way. Not that brain-fry ever felt good, but usually he’d fried it by doing stuff he liked. Like the time he drew for sixteen hours straight. 

He’d been trying to draw a Lou Jitsu comic(book, he’d wanted it to be a complete story, with backgrounds, fully colored) in one sitting. He hadn’t met that goal – one second he was rubbing his eyes, trying to make his vision stop blurring as he stared at the paper, the next he was waking up in his bed. His best guess was that one of his brothers had put him there after finding him passed out on top of his comic. It was in the same pile he’d left it in when he returned to the spot he’d been working at, anyway.

By the end of that whole thing, his brain was basically burnt to a crisp. He’d wanted to keep drawing and finish what he’d started, but the second he looked at it his mind went completely blank. And he swore he could hear a sort of grinding, sputtering noise as he tried to think. He couldn’t think of what poses to put Lou in for the next panel, he couldn’t think of what dialogue to have anyone say, or what angle to draw the backgrounds from. Honestly, he hadn’t felt confident in his ability to draw a stickperson at that point, let alone a full comic. He’d had to put the project on hold for about two weeks until his brain reset itself, and the very thought of it didn’t make him crabby.

(And also until his wrist stopped hurting, but that wasn’t the point right now.)

Mikey knew what his brain-fry was actually called: Burnout. He’d gone too hard, and he’d needed time to “rest,” in a way. The thing was, in that case (and all cases of brain-fry/burnout before and after), his brain was only fried in terms of his creativity. He could still happily go veg with his bros – binge movies and video games or go skate or something, and it’d felt alright. Now, though, his brain felt like that towards his whole life.

 That’s what happens when you macrodose on worrying, apparently. Things had settled, sure, but the fact that nothing had been fixed meant the file was always running on the computer of his brain, burning through its battery. (Mental nod to Donnie for teaching him that however long ago, so he could make that reference and articulate his situation here.)

Mikey rolled onto his shell, staring up at the ceiling above his bed. There were two kinds of brain-fry, or at least two kinds that he frequently experienced: The “lethargic, no-thoughts-head-empty, spilled carton of milk, always tired just let me sleep” –kind, and the “too many thoughts constantly zapping his brain, too wired to even think about sleep” –kind. It was the second flavor tonight. Which, arguably, was the worse one. Yippee.

Leo seemed… fine, lately. But then, when didn’t Leo seem fine? He didn’t really take things seriously, he never had. It just wasn’t him. In fact, the only time he did take anything seriously was because the situation had made him take it seriously.

And sometimes not even then! Even with everyone trying to make him wake up to what was going on around him!

If Mikey didn’t know him like he did, it’d be easy to assume he just didn’t care. But he knew that wasn’t true – Leo cared a lot. About his family specifically, sometimes the most out of any of them. Just… not enough to put together how his behavior affected others.

It was because he had no coping skills besides denial, Mikey felt sure. And he was so deep in denial, he believed himself when he said things like “I/we got this.” Bad things happened and it took an act of God to make him realize things were, in fact, not okay. Otherwise he’d go on lying to himself that they were. It broke Mikey’s heart.

If Mikey could just make Leo talk about things and acknowledge his own behavior, he knew they’d be able to find a solution. He’d tried to stage a full family intervention a little while after the invasion, when Leo had apparently been trying to “train” himself to death. Dad had pulled the plug on it before Mikey had even got it started; something about how “dogpiling” Leo wouldn’t help in this instance.

Which, how exactly was it “dogpiling” to sit Leo down, get everyone he knew together, and explain, one by one, how his actions were upsetting them? That drowning himself in training was just another form of denial? That he needed to acknowledge his behavior was unhealthy and he needed to stop?

Dad had ended up having his own private intervention with Leo. He had let up on the obsessive training, which had been a relief. But considering how Leo’d behaved in the weeks after Krang had first wriggled out of his shell, Mikey doubted Dad (or, obviously, Leo himself) had addressed any of the underlying issues. Leo had cracked jokes the entire time, completely not realizing how uncomfortable he was making everybody else.

But! That had mostly stopped in the last couple weeks! Sort of. Leo was still acting like everything was okay, but it was more… normal? Like, “how it was before” –normal, not “we’ve all just gotten used to it now” –normal. Incidentally, this shift happened after Krang had let it slip he felt insecure.

…again, sort of. He’d framed it like it was a subconscious thing on his part (“instincts”), and just something Krang did, but Mikey wasn’t born yesterday. Where there’s smoke there’s fire, and it was practically a breathing hazard in here, baby. 

Also, sure was one heck of a coincidence that as soon as he communicated this issue, Leo started acting more like his usual self, don’tcha think? Or could it be that – since Krang and Leo’s emotions were apparently linked – him relieving a little of that stress relieved a little of Leo’s? Maybe all the guy needed was a little love and support? He’d been in the prison dimension for a long time; that’d be enough to frazzle anybody.

If nothing else, it meant Mikey had an opening. Dr. Positive had already pulled one former-villain into the family! He’d do it again! It’d mean they’d have one less (scary as balls) enemy to worry about, and Leo could relax. And, maybe if they addressed Krang’s issues, Mikey could use that as an opening to address Leo’s. Really, if everything worked out, it was a win-win scenario.

Mikey rolled over again, this time turning to face the wall. He just… didn’t know how he’d go about achieving any of this. Yet. He’d figure it out! ...tomorrow, hopefully. After he got some sleep.

Again, hopefully.

Mikey gave a quiet huff, wishing he could put a speed-limit on his thoughts, still feeling very fried.

---

A few weeks prior, shortly after dropping his false “security” narrative, Krang had sardonically wondered what the next “most humiliating moment” of his life would be. At the time, it had seemed unlikely that anything could possibly top it. His enemies all thought he was a clingy, needy idiot – what could possibly be more mortifying than that?

This entire evening had essentially been a series of “whats,” so there was that lesson learned.

Krang had always considered earthlings rather… ungainly. The best he’d ever been able to muster up towards them – appearance-wise – was utter neutrality. Otherwise his opinions typically rested at mild disgust.

That had not been what he’d been feeling earlier. He’d felt warm (though not disagreeably so), and his stomach had felt funny as he’d looked at the humans twisting and writhing around before him and his host. Honestly, he could’ve stood to look at them a bit longer—

It was his host’s fault. It was his host’s fault. It was his hormones causing the reaction; Krang had just been subject to them! They didn’t count!

There was a niggling voice in the back of his mind, insistently pointing out that the humiliation that had occurred before his host had even set out on the aforementioned venture could decidedly not be attributed to the connection they shared. That was fully from his side of the line, and the only thing he could blame his host for was inducing it. Which he did, completely and fully, but…

Ugggh, he’d made such an idiot of himself…

The first thing his host did once returning to base was stick them both under a spray of freezing cold water. His host alleged that a “cold shower” would help reset their systems after… all that. (“Or something like that.” It was a very convincing and fact-based strategy, clearly.) Considering that chasing after/confronting the vermin that had nicked his host’s swords hadn’t been enough of a distraction to purge them of the feelings accosting them, Krang had allowed it, uncomfortable as it’d been. 

Back towards the beginning, when Krang had first revealed himself, his host had given him very strict, very hostile instructions to never come out or speak to him while he was in that room. As much as Krang hadn’t appreciated being ordered around (especially considering he was given no reason for this demand), his host’s emotions were volatile enough towards the topic that he’d never attempted to cross that particular line.

Considering this last trip into the water-box had resulted in Krang and his host entering their room still shivering, he felt he deserved accolades for continually adhering to the boundaries set to him. (Even if it had worked as intended – the horrid… sensations Krang had been feeling prior felt very far away now. Regardless.)

“Hurry up and get into your bed,” Krang demanded from inside his host’s shell, teeth chattering. “I’m freezing.”

“Believe me, I’m going as fast as I can,” his host insisted, hastily trying to shuffle into some “p’jama pants,” or whatever he’d called them. The task was evidently a little trickier than usual, given that he was also shaking from cold – he misjudged where one of the legs were and stumbled to stay upright. (Or at least, that was Krang’s best guess, considering he couldn’t properly see.)

Why his host was bothering with the pants in lieu of immediately burrowing into the promised warmth of his bed, Krang couldn’t ascertain. Thankfully for both their sakes, he did hasten beneath the blankets as soon as his p’jama pants were securely on his body.

Unhelpfully, this didn’t help much at all.

“Why is your bed so cold?” Krang asked forcefully. One might think that being nestled within another’s shell would offer at least a little warmth. As it turned out, that didn’t do much when the system you’re being regulated by presently felt like a block of ice itself.

“It’s not,” his host muttered back. “I’m, like… mostly cold-blooded, so I’m really bad at. Making my own warmth, I guess? Orrr it takes me longer? I dunno, ask Donnie about it…”

(Note: Krang would not be doing that.)

“So we’re stuck like this?” Krang asked, shivering again.

“Psh, no. We’ll warm up eventually. It’s just gonna take a minute. Or. Y’know, a little longer.” His host shivered as well, curling further into himself (for all the good it did). “Usually I’d go sit under our heat-lamp right now, but if I go do that and then someone wanders out and catches me, they’re gonna ask why I’m so cold. And… yeah, don’t really wanna have to explain the details of that right now.”

Krang huffed. “You put entirely too much stock in your family’s perception of you.”

(Never mind that Krang also didn’t exactly want the group to learn about their recent escapade and what about it had necessitated a cold shower. Ever, if he could manage it. It was irrelevant to his – correct – point.)

He suspected his host was making a face at him. No real reason, it was just a sense he got. Whatever, he was too busy entertaining the notion that had just struck him across the back of the head:

He was (unfairly) beholden to his host’s emotions and every physical sensation he experienced, one way or another. But then, at the same time, was his host not also beholden to every physical sensation Krang experienced?

“Whaddya coming out for?” his host grouched, likely displeased that he had to unbundle himself from his blankets slightly to make room for him on his shoulder. “It’s not any warmer out here…”

“I’m going to try something,” Krang explained. “Hold on…”

Krang nestled into the crook of his host’s neck, using his pulse to pick out the tempo of his own. (It wasn’t required for what he was about to do, but it helped.) Then he focused, and…

“Whoa,” his host said as blessed warmth flowed through their bodies. He uncurled just slightly. “How’d you do that?”

“It’s one of Krangs’ methods of thermo-regulating,” Krang explained. “We can temporarily heat up or cool down at will. Since you apparently have trouble getting back up to temperature after it’s dropped, I sped up the process for you. You’re welcome.”

Honestly, Krang was just relieved that the effort hadn’t been wasted. Be just the way of things for him to make this attempt only for it not to work, wouldn’t it? It was, technically, his host that was chilled, after all.

But, since it had worked, this was actually the perfect moment for it. The process involved a not inconsiderable burst of energy to achieve, but it wasn’t as if he was about to be exerting himself where he’d need the energy. He was hopefully about to go to sleep. Which, if he were left lying there cold and uncomfortable, he likely wouldn’t be able to sleep.

His host burrowed back into his blankets, clearly not wanting to lose a drop of the warmth he’d just been given, taking Krang with him. “Okay. You got me: This is pretty sweet. Definitely beats just laying here with our teeth chattering, anyway.”

“Indeed,” Krang agreed, allowing himself to be burrowed. “Granted, we wouldn’t have had to do either of those things if you hadn’t made us freeze in the first place.” He threw his host a weakly sour look. “Why drench yourself in ice water if you knew you’d struggle to warm up again?”

His host shifted uncomfortably, turning his head to look away from him. “I told you – we needed a reset. I didn’t want to have to lay in… that for longer than I had to.”

“You needed a reset,” Krang corrected, perhaps a touch too defensively. “The only reason I felt anything was because you couldn’t keep your hormones under control—”

Ah, that was evidently taking things too far… Embarrassment flared in his host’s core, which meant it was back in Krang’s as well.

Krang was already starting to feel the drain of heating up both himself and his host. Which shouldn’t have happened – the action was tiring, but not typically to this degree. Probably something to do with his body presently being smaller than he was used to as well as having to heat an entire second person. He didn’t want to fall asleep feeling like this (he didn’t even want to know what “dreams” this sort of mood might elicit), so apparently it was now his job to try to undo his misstep before he lost consciousness. Nothing like working on a time limit to really motivate a person…

What he’d say, he wasn’t sure yet. He supposed he’d have to think something up on the fly. He ended up not needing to.

Sluggishly, Krang reached a tentacle over to try to turn his host’s face towards him (he preferred his host look him in the eye while he fought to talk him out of his negative feelings). Increasingly uncoordinated as he was (embarrassed or not, the sudden burst of warmth and depletion of energy was fighting to drag him under), he wound up sort of dragging it up his host’s neck before finding his chin.

His host made a small, surprised noise, and his embarrassment faltered.

…well that certainly seemed familiar...

Krang paused. His host didn’t move. Before either of them could think any further (or indeed, react to what had already been done), Krang rubbed just under his chin.

His host made another small noise. He brought his hands up, as though to push his tentacles away, but stopped just short of actually doing it. Krang did it again.

A dopey smile spread across his host’s face, and he chirped.

Hm. Well. Wasn’t this serendipitous?

“What was it you said before, Pest?” Krang asked smoothly, allowing his tentacle to harden just enough to properly scratch under his host’s chin. “Something about an ‘off-button’?”

His host didn’t respond verbally. He began churring quite loudly though, and tilted his head to allow him a better angle at his jaw. Krang obliged him, basking in the sense of calm and contentedness that had washed over them, replacing the horrid embarrassment. He could work with this.

It certainly leveled the playing field, at any rate. As was only proper.

Notes:

Little thing I’d like to expand on just real quick: I see a lot of the fandom using Mikey to flawlessly therapy-speak at other characters to resolve problems, or else just give him perfect understanding of other characters’ mental/emotional states and what they’ll need to heal/feel better. In reality, I don’t think he knows shit. He initially tried to rehabilitate Draxum by dressing up as a dinosaur and jumping on a trampoline for Christ’s sake. Funny, but not actually helpful. A desire to help others, though commendable, doesn’t instantly equip you with the knowledge on how to do that.

He’s only 18 here. I would not trust an 18 year old to give me psychological counsel (even with the weird yokai-aging stuff I've added taken into account). He loves and wants to help his brother, but he’s a long way from understanding how to actually do that. Anyway, I’m yapping again, don’t mind me.

Chapter 19: Just A Good Day To Be Weird

Notes:

Saw an opportunity to canonize some of the beautiful fanart I got back in chapter 16’s comments (that I hadn’t already sort of had plans for, funny how that worked out huh?), and by God I took it. So shout-out to Fiddle for the inspiration!

And speaking of Fiddle, they made more fic art! So did SmilingStar! You can find both in the comments of chapter 18! Thank you both so much!

Leo woke up very suddenly, which kinda sucked. He’d never been super into being cozily asleep one second, and then abruptly not being that the next. But more than that, he’d actually been sleeping well, so it doubly sucked. (“Sleeping well” had been happening a lot more often lately just generally, but he’d really been zonked last night. Weird.)

But – clear question – what had woken him up so suddenly so very early in the morning? Well, far as he could immediately tell, movement. Something had shifted against him in bed.

Quick refresher! Leo didn’t usually share his bed with anyone! He was presently single (but accepting applications, if anyone hot was wondering!), and not living in a grandparents-from-Charlie-and-the-Chocolate-Factory situation! So feeling someone move next to him while he was sawing logs caused a very justified spook!

Now, there were no prizes for guessing exactly who had moved and accidentally woken him up. He wasn’t sharing his bed with anyone specifically, but he was sharing… well, pretty much everything else. (Which, in retrospect, actually kind of made the fact that he wasn’t in a bed-sharing relationship a relief. He suspected this whole parasite-situation would be a deal-breaker for a lot of people.) Krang had obviously woken up before him, and crawled out of his shell. 

Nope. Wrong. Krang was already on Leo’s shoulder, but he was still very asleep.

And now that Leo thought back, he couldn’t actually remember Krang ever going into his shell for the night. With dawning horror, the last thing he did remember came screaming back to him. They must’ve fallen asleep sometime during that. It’d felt so nice. How could Leo not?

Now they were laying with their faces smooshed together. At some point, Leo had brought his hand up to sort of… hold Krang to him, apparently. Krang had a tentacle twined around it.

Krang must’ve felt his alarm (or maybe he was picking up on his embarrassment, who could say), because as Leo was still reeling, he twitched, began to stir, and sleepily blinked his eyes open.

Tick, tick, tick—

They sprang apart like they were magnets who’d had their positive sides forced together. 

…as far as they could spring, anyway, which admittedly wasn’t far. But let it be known that the current lack of distance between them wasn’t from lack of trying, on either part!

Anyway, bigger matters:

Leo took note of the vaguely slimy spot on his hand, the one that had been closest to Krang’s face, then just as quickly realized what it must be.

“AUGH GROOOOSS WERE YOU DROOLING?!”

“You’re the only drooling idiot here, Pest!!” Krang shot back, latching onto anger and offense like lifelines. 

Leo scoffed. “Yeah yeah suuuure Cuddles—!”

“The trail running down the side of your face corroborates me, I’m afraid!” Krang spat, gesturing.

Leo wiped his palm across the side of his mouth. Sure enough, it came back wet.

Face now warm, he countered, “Yeah, well, right back atcha Uno!” and swiped his thumb over the opposite corner of Krang’s mouth. It was also wet.

Krang sputtered, clearly flustered but slapping a layer of irritation over it to hopefully cover it up, and swatted Leo’s hand away.

He looked like he wanted to throw out a denial of some sort, or maybe even more accusations. But after a beat, all he ended up doing was looking away and saying, “Let’s never speak of this again.” 

Leo turned his head away too. “I’m digging a mental-hole to bury the memory in as we speak.”

Yeah, ha, no he wasn’t. Wanted to, couldn’t. If it were that easy to just forget things that weren’t so nice, Leo would be a much better-adjusted turtle. 

So what did he do now? How was he supposed to acknowledge last night? Should he acknowledge last night? He’d have to, wouldn’t he? Not the— y’know, the snuggling parts (he was right there with Uno: never mention it again), but the—

Eugh. The, um. The scritches part. That had been. New. Leo hadn’t known that would feel that nice. Kinda obviously, he’d never experienced it before. Be a little weird for his family to just start doing that to him at random, and they were kiiiinda the majority of his social pool. 

But yeah. Whaddya say to that? Just generally? Because whatever you might say to someone finding a spot that instantly made you feel melty and relaxed generally, Leo didn’t think it would work for his current situation. Krang was not “general.” It wasn’t like Leo could go “hey so like, I foiled your evil plan and you tried to kill me and my family, but that was a sweet little moment we shared last night, huh?”

And he got it, he did, he really did. “All’s fair in exploiting each other’s sweet-spots and war,” that whole concept. It was retaliatory, in a bizarre way, just like he’d come to expect from his parasite. But it was just that, at the same time, Leo couldn’t deny it’d also felt sort of… nice, emotionally (and physically, but pssh no duh, already established that), to have someone doing something seemingly just because it’d felt nice for him.

To have Uno doing something seemingly just because it’d felt nice for him. Now, that sounded weird and wrong, he knew that, but stay with him here:

He didn’t care about this whole situation, not on a level that mattered, or anything. It wasn't the guy, exactly, more... the circumstance? It was like... Leo liked to be liked. That was fair, that was normal, who didn't? He’d been attached to a person who very, very aggressively did NOT like him for a while now, and it was draining as all hell, thanks for asking. Except, last night, there’d been a very distinct lack of “I hope you die, Pest” –vibes during that whole exchange. It'd been a little bit of a relief, honestly.

And yes, Leo (again!) acknowledged that was because Krang was either trying to get even by subjecting Leo to whatever “disgrace” he felt he'd put him through with his gill-thingies (which, if that was the case, Uno baby you’re in the wrong house), or else he was just mooching off the feeling it gave Leo as he did it. That was fine, preferable even, since it meant there weren't any weird emotions Leo needed to dissect. It all wrapped back around to "relief that the situation was becoming less tense, it had nothing to do with any specific individuals."

...although, if the sensation transferred to him the same way petting his gills transferred to Leo, he wasn’t actually gaining that much. Yeah it was relaxing, but sheesh that could be achieved just as easy with a good enough ASMR video (or the Krangly equivalent of such, whatever that may be). But instead, he was getting it in a way that more directly benefited Leo. Honestly, it almost made it seem like he was maybe growing on Krang a little. 

‘Heh, got it backwards there, LITERALLY,’ said a weak voice somewhere towards the back of Leo’s head. Ah, Inner-Wit, you never miss! But under that, even weaker, quieter, was another voice, one saying something dangerous:

‘He’s starting to LIKE me.’

No, Leo. No he was not. He was being anything from pragmatic to annoying. He wanted you and everyone you love dead, no matter how used to him you were getting. Don’t get it twisted.

…you don’t fall asleep cuddling someone you don’t like at least a little, though. 

Leo shut his eyes. He couldn’t make himself forget, but he could try to smack the reset button of his brain by changing topics. So alright, what was the most pressing thing he had to do today?

…oh right!

“So, um… I’m gonna tell everyone about what we found out last night, right? Just to make sure we have our stories straight if anyone asks, we say Kim was a bartender, and don’t add any details, yeah? Nobody needs to know what sorta place she was a bartender at?”

“Very well,” Krang said, tone a bit clipped.

“We’ll probably go out to investigate after Raph gets home from work, but we’ll see what happens.”

“I have no say in anything that occurs amongst you people – you know that – but I suppose the forewarning is appreciated.”

“…you can have a say in breakfast, if you want…”

“…those little micro-wave flatcakes. Provided there are any left.”

Leo smiled just slightly before he could think to stop himself, pushing himself up from his bed. “They’re one of Dad’s favorite snacks, what can ya do?”

---

“You shoulda told someone…” Raphael groused, expression sour.

“Let it go, Raph…” Krang’s host said.

“No! Raph will not ‘let it go,’ you shoulda let someone know you were leaving!”

“Okay, yes, fine, I should’ve, for safety reasons if nothing else, ya got me. But I only didn’t do that because I knew if I did, whoever I told would try to stop me—”

“Yeah duh! Of course we woulda stopped you! You should’ve waited instead of going alone!”

Krang rolled his eyes. He was once again hidden away inside his host’s shellpack, so there was no real reason not to indulge in his frustration. None of them could see him. (Though, he could still see them, peeking out as he was.)

Raphael had returned home from whatever labor he went off to do every day, and his host had informed everyone of what they’d learned. The group was presently en route to the apartment Kimwest had singled out as a potential hideaway for the human they were tracking, once again in their human disguises. Ostensibly, they were taking the “scenic route” (read: walking there physically rather than simply making use of his host’s portals) so they could form a game-plan on the way. So far, however, all that had happened was Raphael attempting to lecture his host using backwards logic.

“‘Waited’ for what, Raph?” his host asked, sounding as exasperated (and annoyed, however much he was trying to smother the feeling) as Krang felt. “There was literally no point. I’m the only guy who can open portals quickly, and the bigger the group we brought in, the more likely we’d’ve gotten caught. Literally no point in bringing anyone along if we didn’t have to. And you didn’t even like the plan to begin with! Why wait?”

Krang felt a tiny spike of… something – almost like triumph, definitely not pride but also definitely adjacent to it – at how much his host was essentially quoting his proposed reasoning from the night prior. (Of course, for however confidently he was saying these things, his stomach was still churning terribly as the words left his mouth. Krang may need to coax him into talking about this later…)

Raphael looked prepared to say more, but Apriloneil came up beside him and interjected, “Raph, he’s got a point.”

As Raphael turned to look at her, surprised and vaguely betrayed (and definitely frustrated), Krang’s host burst, “Thank you April!”

She went on, “You really weren’t on board with this whole plan – which, you made a lot of good points! I was following, I was with ya! – but it doesn’t make sense to be upset with it now after it’s over and done with. Especially after it got results.”

Far be it for Krang to feel anything more than disdain for a human (much less the face-smacker), but in that moment Apriloneil reigned supreme over every other example of her species. His host’s mood rose sharply from the depths at which it had previously been sitting, heartened by her support. (So perhaps Krang wouldn’t need to have him talk about things later.) ‘Thank you April’ indeed. 

Raphael gave her a disapproving look, probably only to hide how much he was sulking. “You’re just sayin that because it means you can keep going after this story…”

“Doesn’t make me any less right!” Apriloneil said, grinning. She turned to Krang’s host beside her. “Seriously, thanks for this, Leo. The best thing I had after the Bandit was still the corkboard story.” She reached over, and Krang felt her playfully tweak his host’s nose. “But yeah, Raph’s right – don’t go out in the middle of the night without letting someone know where you’re going. Something goes wrong and no one’ll know where to start looking for you.”

This pulled a smile from his host, and Krang was feeling more warmly disposed towards her by the second. Shame she’d basically introduced herself with a grievous insult towards him. He might’ve considered making her death quick, elsewise…

“Psh, ‘something going wrong’?” his host asked, still smiling and exaggeratedly rolling his eyes. “For me? Fat chance, you’re all worrying too much.”

(Krang wished he knew how to turn his host’s manufactured bravado into genuine belief in himself. The words he spoke were accurate; the emotions happening beneath the surface of his mask were not.)

Apriloneil rolled her eyes back, then looked up and said, “Oh, isn’t this it, Leo?” At his confirmation, they all stopped walking.

Apriloneil turned to address the group at large. “How’s this: I go in, scope out the apartment – see what the entry situation looks like, if there’s anyone around to pose questions to, basic stuff – and then once I have a better idea of it I’ll call you guys, and you can either come pick me up and we plan from there, or you come and meet me over there and we’ll do a look-around together. Sound cool?”

Everyone looked at each other.

“I could just. Y’know. Portal us in through a back wall or something, if you’d rather?” Krang’s host said, raising a brow.

“You could,” Apriloneil agreed, “but then what? We don’t know who we’re looking for, or if the guy even lives here. Most we could do at that point is start knocking on doors and asking people about the Bandit directly. Which, if the guy does live in the apartment, would tip him off that we’re on to him.” She shrugged. “Anyway, all it’ll take for us to get booted from the building is for someone to complain about a group of twenty-something-slash-college-age-looking kids wandering around an apartment complex they don’t live in, and asking weird questions.”

Raphael’s brow furrowed. “That’s fair and all, but the whole point of us coming with in the first place was so that you wouldn’t be going in alone against someone dangerous? Sorta defeats the purpose if you head in by yourself…”

Now Apriloneil rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and I appreciate you guys having my back, but I also kiiiinda remember saying you didn’t need to come for this? Pretty much for all the reasons I listed just now?”

Donaldtello crossed his arms, saying, “But if the Bandit is in that apartment, and somehow does learn what you’re there investigating in spite of your attempts to be subtle, you would be at risk.”

“Psh. I’ve fought—” She coughed suddenly, as if remembering something and trying to cover her need to redirect. “Y’know, worse. And it’s not like whoever it is can be too public about attacking people, considering.” She gave them a smile. “I’ll be fine. Wait here?”

There was a general murmur of reluctant acquiescence, Apriloneil gave them a thumbs-up, then disappeared around the corner of a building to go and enter the apartment complex (the group had approached it from behind, and those left behind now stood waiting in an alley).

The murmur slowly turned into full conversation to fill the time, of which Krang took no heed of. What the group spoke about to each other held no particular interest to him, so why bother to listen to it? He tuned in every now and again, mostly only ever when his host spoke—

“Hey Krang,” called Michael suddenly, “why don’t you come out and chat with us? We’re in an alley, so there shouldn’t be too much risk of anyone seeing you…”

Krang blinked, realizing suddenly how unused he was to people who weren’t his host addressing him.

He didn’t especially want to come out and “chat” with them, if he was being honest. Both for the reasons listed above, and for the simple fact that he didn’t particularly like them. He was suddenly realizing his plan to be more present so the group would grow more accustomed to him was coming with some unforeseen consequences. Perhaps it had worked a bit too well…

But then, since it was apparently working, did it not mean that he was more or less obligated to at least show his face now that he’d been invited to do so? It felt very likely he might accidentally offend someone and undo all his work, if not…

Slowly, he emerged from his host’s shellpack, unable to stop the suspicious look that spread across his face at Michael’s stupidly encouraging smile.

(He saw his host throw Michael a confused look, but no comment was made on the matter).

Raphael was glaring at Krang.

Krang wanted to roll his eyes once more, though he managed to restrain himself. Glare at your stupid brother if you disagree with Krang being out, he was the one who had requested his presence in the first place. Krang looked away as his host and Michael resumed a discussion on something unrelated, staring at the dirty bricks of the building across from them all. Hopefully, Apriloneil would decide it actually would be beneficial for the group to accompany her, come back, and bring them into the building with her. That way, he’d have an excuse to duck back into his host’s shellpack, and no one would bother him. Or, better, that she would come back saying she’d gotten all the information she needed from the venture, and they could all travel back to their base. Then Krang and his host could go back to their room for the evening and—

Something was very nearly touching him.

Krang lashed out with a tentacle behind him and his host, his guard up and already seething at whatever might dare. Turning, he just managed to catch sight of two snappable metal arms retracting swiftly back into Donaldtello’s pathetic “battle shell.” Both seemed to be holding something. They retreated too quickly for him to definitively determine what, but he did catch a glimpse: One seemed to hold miniscule tongs, and the second held a petri dish.

Krang stared at him, outrage nearly drowned out by incredulity. He stared back, clearly guilty but trying (and failing) to be nonchalant.

Had he just. Had Donaldtello just tried to take a piece of him??

His host had (rather obviously) noticed him lashing out, but hadn’t turned in time to see the metal arms retract. As such, he gave him an extremely disapproving look, slapping his hands on top of his tentacles as if to hold them in place.

“Heyheyhey Uno! What the heck?! We use our words on this planet, if you want someone to take a step back or something you just ask them—!”

“What’re you attacking people for?!” Raphael demanded, barreling into Krang’s line of vision. He was glaring and pushing entirely too far into Krang’s space for comfort; Krang felt compelled to lean back against his host’s neck so their heads didn’t touch.

Krang was, obviously, thoroughly indignant at all involved.

“He was trying to put pieces of me in a dish!” Krang snarled, jabbing a tentacle angrily at Donaldtello (he hated how much this sounded and felt like tattling). “Is that reason enough?!”

His host shifted his gaze from him to his brother (his expression was still just as disapproving, though now it mingled with suspicion and pure exasperation). So that was something, at least. Raphael, meanwhile, was glaring like he was competing in a tournament for it (that was to say, “aggressive to the point one might assume he was being judged on it”).

Donaldtello scoffed, unconvincingly insisting, “What? I would never…”

Krang was prevented from snapping something back at him by Michael coming up and placing a hand on his back. He was similarly prevented from smacking the appendage away (or preferably, lancing through it) by his host’s hand still pinning his tentacles down.

“Hey now, let’s everyone just calm down, okay? I’m sure nobody meant to attack anybody, it was probably just a reflex!” He turned to look at him, offering him a kindly smile that made all twelve layers of Krang’s skin crawl. “You weren’t specifically trying to hurt Donnie, right? It was just self-defense!”

Krang stared at him a long moment, his anger at being touched warring with everything he’d personally done so far to make his host’s family even so much as disinterested towards him. Finally, he settled for saying, “In a sense, yes,” as neutrally as possible.

“Is it typical for Krang to always feel the need to be on guard?” Michael asked.

Krang raised a brow, because, when surrounded by enemies (which he was), yes. Obviously. What a stupid question.

“Yes,” he said again, not especially caring how curt his tone had become.

“Mm-hm, mm-hm,” Michael said, pursing his lips and nodding, looking contemplative. “And how was your childhood?”

“My— huh??”

Krang boggled at him. How was that relevant to anything?? He cast a look towards his host, who sent him the same back. It wasn’t just him then, at least…

“Krang do not have ‘childhoods,’ strictly speaking,” Krang finally said, deciding he’d rather put the matter to rest over being continually hounded about it. “We are born, we have a developmental period of about a year where we do our best to increase our size and weight and avoid our elders, and then we begin working towards the Krangs’ overarching goal of widespread assimilation.”

(“So you’re all born creeps, then,” Raphael sneered, “good to know.”)

“What do you mean ‘avoid your elders,’ what’s that about?”

‘Why do YOU care?’ Krang wanted to ask.

“If we didn’t we’d be eaten?” he asked back instead, still more confused and irritated. It was done to weed out the slower and weaker younglings before they became too big to easily dispose of, but still equally useless. That ought to be common-sense, shouldn’t it?

“That’s awful!” Michael burst, looking horrified and nauseatingly heartfelt (and for what??). “So you’ve been fighting and never feeling safe your whole life, huh?”

Never felt— He didn’t— what?!

Krang was about to snap that he’d felt perfectly safe once he was of an adequate size to defend himself – he’d been more than a match for his peers, both those in his age group and those above – and it was dangerously offensive to imply he’d ever been anything less. Moreover, what was he supposed to have been doing with his life besides fighting? Sounded boring, honestly.

He was cut off from actually doing any of this by Michael removing his hand from his back (finally) and taking hold of one of his tentacles with both hands (no no no stop touching him you grabby little peon—!).

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he assured him. “You’re safe with us!”

…congratulations, Michael, you’ve managed to render Krang utterly speechless and completely unable to react with mind-melting confusion. Truly a first. You remain his least favorite.

Thankfully, his host was stepping in while he was unable, gently disentangling Michael’s dumb grubby little digits from his tentacle.

“I mean he kinda has to be unless everyone wants to be a brother down, amirite?” he asked, subtly side-stepping his brother. “But yeah, real sweet of you to say, little bro, I’m sure Uno appreciates it.”

Michael nodded. Krang fought not to sneer at how pleased he looked. He forced himself to turn, to at least divert his eyes from the sight, and—

Donaldtello was RIGHT THERE.

Both Krang and his host jumped, retreating back a step. (Well, Krang’s host retreated; Krang himself was regulated to simply recoiling on his shoulder.) Donaldtello had been standing naught but four inches away from them, purposely looking elsewhere, as though uncaring of their presence beside him. Bare minimum he hadn’t tried to pluck off anymore pieces of Krang when he wasn’t looking, he supposed, but still—

“Ha ha, yes, very very safe with us. So speaking of ‘safe,’ it is astounding how UNsafe the separation of a Krang and their host is. Earth doesn’t have anything like it. Even I, with my vast intellect, have no idea how it works.” He cast an intense, expectant side-eyed look towards Krang, as if gauging his reaction.

Stars above, was this idiot still on that? Krang now dearly wished he’d ignored Michael’s invitation to “chat,” and had instead simply stayed in his host’s shellpack. It was regrettably too late to return to it now, as that would essentially count as a retreat. Which, in turn, would count as unforgivably weak. Krang was not weak.

Instead, he looked to his host. Again, his host looked back, and didn’t seem to have the slightest idea what was going on either.

Raphael was standing a bit too close as well, honestly. He wasn’t saying or doing anything, just. Staring.

“…can I help you?” Krang finally asked, irritation bubbling over. Because what was happening here? Was the lack of blinking meant to intimidate him?

(Apparently so.)

“What’sa matter?” Raphael demanded. “Don’t like me looking at you? Why? Scared I’ll notice something? What is it you don’t want me to notice, huh?!”

“Raph, buddy, you good…?” Krang’s host asked, giving his brother a confused look.

(“Obviously not,” Krang hissed to him in an undertone.)

“Raph’s great,” Raphael said bluntly, still glaring fixedly at Krang. Michael and Donaldtello were pushing in from either flank as well.

“How does a Krang disconnect from the brainstem, if I may casually ask—?”

“If there’s anything you want to talk about, you can share how you’re feeling—”

“Are you planning something—?!”

They were all looking at him. They were all too close. There were only three of them, and suddenly that felt like too many.

If any of them got so much as an inch closer he’d tear out all of their throats—

“Aw darn!” his host said suddenly (a touch louder than normal). “I just realized I gotta pee. Gonna pop back home for a sec and get that taken care of, m’kay? Be right back, let April know where I’m at!”

He opened a portal behind them, took a large step backwards to enter it, then closed it behind them before anyone could say another word about it.

They were back in their room.

Krang wanted say a lot of things just then, but oddly nothing seemed forthcoming. So instead he sat on his host’s shoulder, enraged for reasons he couldn’t articulate or fully understand, and fruitlessly trying to formulate words.

His host lifted his hand and brushed his thumb against his phonation lamella. All over again, feelings of relaxation and just all-around good flooded his system. He fought not to go completely limp like last time, truly he did, but he wasn’t used to experiencing a sensation this… mmrph, pleasant, yet. Resisting was therefore… difficult.

“You need to calm down,” his host said simply, if a bit firmly.

Indignation sputtered in Krang’s chest, like a spark looking for something to catch, and he clamped on to it.

“They were the ones who—”

“I know,” his host said, “I know. Lemme think of a way to bring it up and I’ll tell them to lay off later. But they’re not here now. Just us. Nice and quiet. Nothing to worry about.”

Krang held firm a few seconds more. Then he exhaled, allowing the tension he held to leave him with the breath, and leaning more heavily into his host’s hands.

This wasn’t a surrender. This was him acknowledging a point that was correctly made. The others were ultimately beneath his concern, so there was no sense in allowing anything they said or did to work him up. Simple as that.

Anyway, it wasn’t like he could do much to stop his host at this point. The option to reject his ministrations had essentially been taken from him. Not much choice but to accept the lot he’d been assigned…

…it was sort of nice.

“There ya go,” his host said quietly, encouraging. Krang sunk further into his hands. “It’s all good, man, you’re good…”

They stayed like that for a bit. Might’ve stayed longer, except his host’s phone buzzed. His host took his hands away from Krang to extract it from his pants pocket and read the message he’d been sent.

The spark of indignation had gone out, now replaced by twinges of muted annoyance and disappointment. Those Krang snuffed out quickly.

His host’s brows rose a bit as he read. He tilted the phone just slightly so Krang could get a better look at what it said: “April’s back, pick us up, she’s got news.”

Ah. So his host going to get information on his own was indeed fruitful, then? He expected an apology from Raphael to his host, at the very least. (Also, he’d most definitely be using this as an example the next time he was speaking sense and his host tried to be all, “noo but my FAMILY” about it.)

His host left their room, trotted to the kichen, then opened another portal. The other four entered through it shortly after.

“We got a lead!” Apriloneil announced excitedly. “I barely even have to ask!”

The five gathered around the surface that sat in the center of the room. “Island” had been used once or twice, which, yes. That made logical sense, all things considered, so very well, that could stay. Once everyone was settled, Apriloneil began to explain:

“Right as I got through the front doors, there was this old guy coming out of the second door – y’know the one that’s locked, and you’d have to buzz in to get through or use your key or whatever. Second he sees me, he starts getting huffy and asking if I lived in the building, if I was visiting, and if I wasn’t then I needed to move on. Then before I can even say anything, he asks me if I was the person he saw crouching in the entryway a week ago, and if he sees me again he’s gonna call the police, just on and on. I’m finally able to get a word in and say no, that wasn’t me, and actually I’m working to investigate that same person he saw. He kind of decided that must mean I’m a detective or something, but I didn’t correct him.

“So now he’s a lot more cooperative. He starts telling me this whole long story about how he’s got this cat with weird dietary issues so it sometimes only eats at odd hours, but he realized he was out of cat food that night, and then there this whole tangent about how he doesn’t trust Uber delivery guys because they always pick out the dented cans. Long story short—”

(“Too late,” Krang muttered. His host used scratching his own jaw as a disguise to flick him disapprovingly.)

“—he calls a cab so he can go get his cat some grub from the nearest graveyard-shift place that sells it. He goes down to wait for it, and finds some guy in a dark jacket, hat, and bike shorts just standing around in the entry. Doesn’t turn to look at him, he never sees his face. Right as he’s asking who the guy is and what he’s doing, his cab pulls up. This guy – the one just hanging around – books it out the door, and jumps into the cab. The old guy’s got a bad knee, apparently, and can’t run after him, so by the time he gets out the door the cab’s already driving away.

“But here’s the thing: He called the cab company to complain, something about ‘not verifying who called and for what’?” She looked around at the group. “Do cabs even do that? He mighta been thinking of Uber, I dunno. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe if we called the company, maybe we could get the guys medallion number and—”

“And ask for info on the guy who jumped into his cab,” Krang’s host finished, understanding.

“Exactly,” Apriloneil confirmed. “Donnie, can you look up the number?

---

Okay! That had gone pretty well, all things considered!

Calling the cab company had actually hit paydirt – they’d managed to get in contact with the guy who’d driven the suspected spine-breaker. The driver also hadn’t managed to catch the guys face (which, geeze did this guy even have a face?? Leo was starting to wonder at this point), but the maybe-bandit had him drop him off somewhere specific, and he remembered where it was!

Sort of. The driver remembered it’d been another apartment building, this time up in East Harlem, but he couldn’t quite remember which. This was sort of exciting to hear, even if the details were a little foggy. It seemed clear now that he’d only ducked into the first apartment building to try to hide from Kim West after she’d nearly caught him. Why would he then take a cab to a second building, this time all the way up to East Harlem, if he didn’t live in this one?

Additional info? The guy had apparently been a prick. Initially tried to leave without paying his fare. Which, yeah, if the guy was out breaking spines for a hobby, it kinda tracked that he wouldn’t be the most personable guy.

Donnie had volunteered to do his techy-hacker-business on the available security cameras any apartment buildings/nearby businesses might have, and see if he could pick up any footage of a cab dropping anyone off at the estimated time the driver thought he might’ve dropped the almost-definitely Bandit out.

All in all, some progress had been made! April was all fired up again, at least! Mission success! It almost made the… for lack of a better word, weirdness coming from everyone else ignorable!

…in Leo’s opinion! Which, clearly, was not a sentiment shared amongst everybody!

“What,” Krang began, once they were safely back in their room, “was going on with your family??”

“I don’t know—”

“Why were they all so—” Krang made a series of nondescript, borderline wild gestures towards the door with his tentacles, indicating everyone on the other side of it, “—mmnehheugh today?!”

“Dude, I have no idea. Just a good day to be weird, I guess.”

Krang did a sort of growl-sigh and slumped against Leo’s neck, apparently completely fed up. It was an action that felt… broken-in, somehow. It was normal, it was casual, it was whatever. It occurred to Leo in that moment that his “be nice to Krang to throw him off” plan might be working better than he could’ve anticipated. Stuff like this plus stuff like last night said things.

It similarly occurred to him that Krang’s “be nonthreatening to make everyone chill out a little” angle might be working better than he’d anticipated it might, too. See, he hadn’t been completely honest in saying that he didn’t know what was up with his bros…

Raph was clearly in Overprotective Older Brother –mode. What had specifically triggered it to come on so strong now of all times, Leo couldn’t say for sure. He had suspicions, but nothing he could definitively point to and go “that’s the cause for it all right there, officer, get ’im!” Irregardless, that was almost definitely what’d been up with Raph.

Donnie had been trying to get samples, probably for some science-thing since Dad and Barry had pulled the plug on him messing with empyrean. And then had also been trying to prod Uno for info on how to separate him and Leo. Subtle as a brick to the back of the head, that guy.

Mikey had been fully embodying Dr. Whoever. And before anyone got into it, cut Leo some slack for not knowing who exactly. He had… what, five different Doctor personas? Anyway, he’d obviously been trying to pick Uno’s brains for “underlying issues,” or whatever. The success with Barry had probably made him decide to shoot his shot with Krang, because really, what did he have to lose at this point?

All to say, it was still very very sweet that his family was still doing everything they could to help Leo or try to keep him safe. But they were doing it with the thought that the guy they were trying to keep him safe from had a chink in his proverbial armor, even if it was just a small one. Be real real easy for one of them to start to underestimate him, or else really buy into the shit he was selling with that in mind.

Was that arrogant for Leo to think? That he knew better than his brothers? That they might get fooled by Krang, but oh no, not him? He was too smart for that? Because he didn’t mean it that way, honest! It was just that… 

He spent literally all his time with the guy, and had seen moments where he was actually vulnerable, not just faking it. It was fair enough to think he understood him at least a little better than everyone else, right?

He became more attuned to the weight of Krang against his neck all of a sudden. It made his thoughts switch tracks a bit.

Presently, he understood that his parasite was plum tuckered out from a day involving way more socialization than he was probably used to. Be real nice of Leo to help him unwind from all that, wouldn’t it? Nice enough to maybe distract him from any perceived “weakness” he might’ve picked up on from his brothers?

Leo brought his hand up, rubbing at Krang’s gills for the second time that day.

Like before, Uno jumped a little in surprise, tensed like he wanted to resist, then went slack again against Leo’s neck. (Leo, meanwhile, felt beautifully chill suddenly.)

“You did good with all that today, whatever was going on with everybody,” Leo said casually, testing the waters for how Mr. “I am a gift!” vs. Mr. “‘I’m proud of you’ = weak words” would react. For future reference, if nothing else – lot easier to schmooze somebody if you know what buttons to push and which ones to avoid like the plague. “All things considered, I mean…”

Krang didn’t say anything back. Instead, Leo was met with a noise that sounded like the lovechild of a gurgle and water boiling. He could feel it resonating in Krang’s core.

It wasn’t an aggressive sound; nothing about it suggested “if you don’t stop and back off, I’ll retaliate.” Honestly, it sort of reminded Leo of something (besides the aforementioned boiling water), even though he had definitely never heard it before, from Krang or anything else.

He realized what his mind was drawing parallels to suddenly, and a surprised laugh popped out of his mouth before he could stop it. He couldn’t help it.

“Dude, are you… is this like the Krang-verson of purring right now?”

Fucked up to even think this, but it was sorta… cute, if it was.

Uno’s expression twitched momentarily, as though pained, and then he gave Leo a look through narrowed, slightly unfocused eyes. Rather than respond, he brought his tentacle up to Leo’s chin, and scritched underneath it.

Leo was T-boned with the same flustered sense of “ugh noo stop except maybe don’t please” he’d felt the night before. It only got worse when he accidentally chirped. Not that he could say anything about it – fair’s fair after all, nothing he could do…

“Hey, um, you wanna maybe watch more Jupiter Jim with me?” he managed to force out, thoughts going warm and fuzzy even as he spoke. He was grasping at anything that could ground him through this. Maybe if he did, he wouldn’t make a total idiot of himself.

“Very well,” Krang agreed, obviously fighting to keep his thoughts frosty and clear-cut just like Leo was. It was a little funny to hear his voice cut through the weird gurgly-noises he was making. Kind of reminded Leo of the little mrrrp! trills cats would make sometimes at the end of a purr.

He didn’t comment on this at all, instead just ambling over to the TV, and trying to put in the movie one-handed.

Neither of them lasted ten minutes.

(Also, they kinda, sorta, mighta woken up the next day in positions similar to how they’d woken up that morning. But like… if it got to the point they could ignore it, it didn’t count, right?)

Notes:

“Is this like the Krang-verson of purring right now?” ASKS THE GUY WHO BASICALLY CHURRED HIMSELF TO SLEEP LAST NIGHT. Like c’mon Leo.

And this is unrelated to the events of the chapter and apropos nothing, but the siren song of a secondary pairing is starting to call to me. Stay tuned to see if I succumb to it or if I’m able to resist its temptations.

Chapter 20: Dumpster-Diving and 20 Billion Bacteria

Notes:

This chapter feels all over the place to me. Hopefully it’s just because I had to switch things around and didn’t actually accomplish what I’d initially intended with this chapter, but let me know what you think.

Also, Casey and Raph are not art majors.

Leo stood at the sink, brushing his teeth so he could lay his sorry self down for bedtime.

The camera-sweep for the Bandit was going… meehhhh? True, it’d only been one day, so it wasn’t like any of them were ready to throw in the towel yet, but thems were the facts of the case.

As it turned out, the neighborhood the cab driver had dropped the guy off in was a littllllllle… sketchy? To put it nicely. And then, either as the reason for said sketchiness or a result of, not a lot of apartment buildings had outside cameras. The surrounding businesses definitely did, so they weren’t completely SOL, but the cameras weren’t great. They served their purpose and caught what was going on immediately outside the shop or gas station or whatever had set them up, but seeing what was happening across the street clearly? Nah.

Also, in case anyone was wondering: Real, real bad idea to suggest Donnie do any “zoom, enhance” tech-stuff to try to get a better view of the stuff the cameras weren’t quite picking up. That’d earn you a rant about how “these cameras only record at a 360p resolution!!” and “trying to ‘enhance’ the image will only make it look worse—!!” Just like, for the record. Don’t do it.

Anyway, he was working on that right now. Leo had slunk away with an excuse of hitting the hay as soon as there’d been an opening during the potential camera-resolution-rant (Donnie had needed to stop to take a breath).

He spat out the last mouthful of toothpaste, rinsed off the brush, then replaced it in the cup on the back corner of the sink. There. Ready for bed.

“What is the point of this ritual, again?”

Leo turned to see Krang looking back at him in the mirror. He raised a brow. “If I don’t brush my teeth they’ll fall out, how’s that for a point?”

Krang raised a brow himself now, persistently grumpy. “…and?”

Leo gave him his best ‘fym AND??’ face, gesturing helplessly at their reflections. “…and they won’t grow back after?? I’d be gumming down my food for the rest of my life.”

Krang’s expression fell to dismayed incredulousness. “Earthlings only get one set of teeth in their lifetimes??”

Leo rolled his eyes as he left the bathroom. “Only one set of ‘I’m all grown up!’ teeth, and if you don’t brush ’em they rot and fall out.”

“They rot?!” Krang demanded, looking disgusted. Which, considering… pretty much everything about Krang biology, Leo felt decently offended by. “What kind of bacteria farm are you cultivating in your mouth where if left unattended your teeth will rot?!”

…Leo didn’t actually have an answer for that one. He didn’t know the exact process of how or why teeth would rot if you didn’t brush them, he just knew they did. Apparently that wasn’t an issue Krang had to deal with. …huh, how did that work—?

---

 “—and then he goes ‘don’t worry, you’re SAFE with us’!”

“WHAT?!” Casey squawked, slamming the lid of the dumpster maybe more violently than she would’ve otherwise (which was saying something, considering her general state of being – it bounced back up for a second). “It is decidedly NOT ‘SAFE.’ The second I can get my hands on that thing without it hurting Leo, it will be in pieces.”

“That’s what I’m sayin!” Raph said, gesturing at her as if to say ‘YOU. YOU get it!’ (Which she did, it was why he was talking to her.) “Nobody else said anything! Or thought it was weird! Raph felt like he was going crazy!”

They walked farther down the alley, with the intention of turning the corner to get to another dumpster. Casey tried to do this at least twice a week, but really she’d go to scope out dumpsters whenever she didn’t have anything else going on. People didn’t exactly dump babies on a schedule, after all. If she wasn’t checking frequently, there was a chance she’d miss who she was looking for. Or at least, that was her logic (tracked just fine with Raph). She’d invited Raph along for this run more for his benefit than anything; he had some stuff he needed to get off his chest.

“I almost wanna say Mikey’s just trying to do what he did with Draxum all over again, but that can’t be it, can it??” he demanded. “The Krang is so much worse than Barry, it’d be pointless to try to ‘reform’ it, right?!”

“Right!”

“And then— then! Leo was acting weird too! Raph was keeping a real close watch on the Krang, right? Figured that way, if it tried to do anything sneaky, I’d pick up on it right away.”

“Vigilance is imperative when dealing with an enemy,” Casey agreed seriously.

“Right! I’d already decided I was gonna do that before we even went out, but then when we did I was paying extra close attention since Mikey and Donnie wouldn’t stop talking to it—”

“Wait, why was Donnie talking to it?!” Casey demanded.

“—he was asking questions about how the whole situation with Leo worked and trying to take chunks of it to study,” Raph dismissed. “That was normal, that made sense.”

Casey nodded, giving a quiet “ohhhh” as her confusion cleared. She gestured for him to continue.

“So I was paying extra close attention while Mikey and Donnie were talking to it, and Jonesy, when I tell you that thing was acting sketchy as all out…!”

He threw up his hands, the frustration he’d felt the day before swinging back around to— well, frustrate him all over again. “But then just as it was starting to really obviously get nervous, LEO goes ‘I gotta pee!’ and portals them both back home! Which— that can’t just be a coincidence, can it?!”

“That is EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS,” Casey confirmed, looking outraged (which, translated, meant she was concerned).

Raph nodded furiously. “And this is after he was acting all weird when we got into that fight outside the last apartment the Bandit hit, and after he’d gone out alone with it last night! What if it’s—”

He swallowed suddenly.

But this is why he talked to Casey: She got him through things even if they were uncomfortable. “‘What if it’s…’?”

He took a breath, then let it out. “What if it’s influencing him? I mean, okay – I agree with what you said the other night when we were texting. Even if it could krangify Leo slowly, it’d kinda be a waste for it to try, since we already proved we can snap each other out of that like Leo did with Raph.” He shuffled his feet a little. “Thanks for pulling Raph back from that one, by the way—”

“You concerns were justified,” Casey said firmly.

“—yeah, but still. Thanks. Anyway. The Krang is always with Leo now, right? They’re alone together all the time. What if it’s putting stuff in his head to make him behave more like it? What if it’s the one who put the idea to go out alone in Leo’s head, and Leo listened?”

Casey was quiet for a minute. Slowly, she said, “I mean… this isn’t the first time Leo’s decided to do something on his own—”

“Exactly!” Raph burst. “How much worse is he gonna get if he’s got someone literally sitting on his shoulder, telling him it’s a ‘good idea’?! Or pressuring him into it because ‘blah blah the STRONG work alone! blah blah blah’?”

Raph growled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Not that it’d probably need to do much pressuring, if it phrased things right. Be juust like Leo to decide he’s ‘got’ something just because someone pumped-up his ego, even if that person is literally the current worst person on the planet…”

He suddenly heard how that might’ve sounded, and felt extremely guilty. Leo’s head could get a little big sometimes, but it wasn’t like he was some uncontrollable ego-maniac. Even at his worst, he always came back down to earth quick enough when the chips were down and they really needed him. That hadn’t really come across in what he’d said.

It was just that, if someone could combine the two – his ego and doing something for his family – Raph didn’t like his odds of not falling for it hook, line, and sinker. Which. Hmm. “Go out and do this thing all on your own to show how strong you are, to help April”? Sounded like a perfect storm, to Raph. Which, why would the Krang try to stroke Leo’s ego unless it was part of a plot to get him hurt?

Or, worse, the first steps to isolate him from his family?

Before he could verbalize any of this, though, Casey said, “Try to minimize the time they spend alone, then. If everyone’s not doing something together, talk to your brothers, April, and Splinter to set up shifts. Try to have at least one person designated to be with him until he goes to sleep. Do not allow the parasite the chance to influence him with honeyed words!”

Raph frowned just slightly, thinking. That had kinda been the arrangement back when the situation had first started. No one had wanted to leave Leo alone for too long. They’d all sort of eased up on it in the last couple of weeks because—

…why had they eased up? Had the situation just started to feel too normal? Had they all just decided “well he’s not being attacked RIGHT NOW, so that seems okay enough to go back to business as usual”?

If that was the case, Leo had some pretty rotten brothers.

“That’s a real good idea, Jonesy,” Raph said instead of voicing any of the above out loud. “I’ll pitch it to everybody else and see what we can work out.”

Casey nodded, satisfied. And, honestly, Raph felt just a little bit better too. It always helped to have a game-plan.

They came up to the next dumpster on Casey’s route, and she flung it open.

“CASEY JR. ARE YOU IN THERE?!” she called, sticking her entire upper body down inside. “MAMA’S HERE NOW, EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY!”

There were some rummaging sounds, and then she reemerged. “Not there,” she said matter-of-factly. “Next one.”

And they continued walking.

“Hey, um,” Raph began, “have there been any developments with… y’know, your folks?” A little uselessly (and probably a little unnecessarily), he clarified, “’Cause, before you said they’d been texting you a lot, when they’d never before? Anything new with that?”

Casey slowed. Didn’t stop, but her pace definitely down-shifted.

Then suddenly, her stride picked up again. “I got fed up with them texting me all the time, so I met up with them just to shut them up,” she said bluntly.

“Oh. How’d that go? What did they want to talk about?”

“Inheritance.”

Raph tilted his head. “Are they leaving you something?” Then something occurred to him and panicking a little, “Are they okay? Is one of them thinking they’re about to—?”

“Both of them are fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And it’s not them who wants to leave me something.”

They reached the next alley, and Casey made a beeline for the nearest dumpster. She opened it, leaned way deep into it just like before, then retracted after a second, slamming it shut. No Casey Jr. in there, either, apparently.

“My great-aunt passed away three months ago,” she went on. “I used to spend whole summers over at her farmhouse while my parents were off on their business trips or having parties to ‘network.’ She left it to me.”

Raph blinked. “Wow! That’s… wow.” He then tilted his head, confused. “Uh. Were your folks just letting you know? Shouldn’t, like. A lawyer or something have done that—?”

“I cannot be expected to answer the phone for EVERY RANDOM NUMBER that calls me!” Casey burst, throwing up her hands as she walked. She wasn’t bursting at Raph, it should probably be pointed out, just… at the world in general. “How was I supposed to know the one number that kept popping up was a law office??”

Her arms fell back to her sides suddenly, and she glared at the ground. “My parents want me to transfer ownership over to them.”

Raph faltered to a stop.  “Wait what? Why?”

Casey, realizing he wasn’t beside her anymore, stopped too, turning to look at him. “They want to turn it into an AirB&B—type thing. And they figured I ‘probably wouldn’t use it for anything anyway,’ so why not just give it to them so it doesn’t go to waste?”

“That’s just— what??” Raph sputtered. “So— lemme get this straight: You spent a good chunk of your childhood at this place, your aunt left it, to you, probably BECAUSE of all the time you spent there, and they expect you to just… give it up?? They didn’t think maybe it’d, y’know… mean something to you??”

Casey shifted where she stood a little. “I mean… I doesn’t, actually. My aunt was… nice, I guess. Or at least nice enough, even though she kept ‘losing’ my hockey gear and trying to give me blush and mascara to ‘make up’ for losing it.” She gave Raph an utterly annoyed look. “And then when I actually used some of the stuff she gave me, she said I was doing it wrong! What’s wrong with how I do my eye-liner?!”

“Nothing,” Raph said, and he meant it. He thought Casey’s eyeliner looked cool, he always had. Even back when he’d only known her as “Foot Recruit.”

He went on, “How you do your liner is like… it’s like that picture of that one smiling lady.”

Casey’s indignation came to a screeching halt, and now she just looked confused. “What picture is that?”

“Uhhhh The Monica, I think? I dunno, ask Mikey. Or Pops, even, I first heard about it because he was talking about where he got our names.” He shook his head to clear it. “But like, I can see it in my head, and I know it’s famous, and that’s the level your eyeliner-game is on.” He paused, tilting his head again and narrowing his eyes. “If I squint, you even kinda look like Monica. And I mean that as like, a compliment.”

Casey seemed satisfied with that. For all of a second, anyway.

“For the most part, when I was at her house, all I was thinking about was how my parents dropped me on her and then left. I mostly just wanted to get back to the city to keep training with my senseis. So it’s not… it doesn’t mean anything to me. And my parents aren’t wrong – what am I going to do with it?”

“Sell it?” Raph suggested, Chasm creasing between his brows. “You could put the profits towards Grandma CJ’s?”

“It’s a complete DUMP,” Casey said bluntly. “My aunt really let it go as she got older. She lived alone and couldn’t take care of it. And it’s in the middle of nowhere – no one would buy it as it is. It’s fine for my parents – they can afford to fix it up. And if they turn it into an AirB&B, it being away from anything means they can market it as a vacation spot for people who live in the city. I don’t care enough to do any of that, and even if I did I am ONE woman! I’ve already got a business to run, and I do not need my focus split between that and how a bunch of slobby strangers are wrecking a house over two hours away!!”

Raph was a little confused. “I’m a little lost, Jonesy… If you don’t know what you’d use the house for, and it’s not sentimental or anything… why not just give it to your parents? Or better, sell it to THEM if they want it so bad?”

Casey made a face. “Because… because they want it. And they thought that they could call me up after years and go ‘hello daughter, give us this thing we want,’ and that I would. After they ignored me basically my entire life.

“If I say I’ll sell it to them – first they’ll probably try to go ‘but we’re your PARENTS,’ and when that doesn’t work they’ll insist it get appraised first. Then they’ll insist they won’t pay a dollar over the amount it’s worth, and get even more annoying about ‘if you want to sell it, you have to be fair about it!’”

She gestured at nothing, obviously getting frustrated. “Even if I did manage to get them to pay over what it’s worth, they’d make the amount back in probably less than a year! And the only reason I’d be selling them something that I didn’t want in the first place rather than just giving it away would be to righteously spite them for being two of the WORST PARENTS IN THE WORLD, and what’s the point of spiting them if it doesn’t ultimately accomplish anything—?!”

She slumped, huffing. She was about as close to defeated as Raph had ever seen her. Which was too close when talking about Cassandra “Casey” Jones.

Raph wasn’t gonna let this stand, absolutely not.

“So be spiteful, then,” he said. “You don’t want them to have it? Keep it, even though you don’t have anything you want to do with it.” Then, inspiration striking, “Yet. Maybe you’ll wanna take Junior up there when he gets a little older so he can run around without having to worry he’ll end up in traffic or something. You can make some new memories there that’ll actually mean something.”

Casey stared at him for a second, expression unreadable and a little un-Casey-like. After a second, she quietly asked, “You think…?”

“Raph’ll personally go up with you to fix it up and make it kid-safe.”

And then, she smiled. Raph felt even more secure about his comparison of her to The Monica. “Thank you.”

Raph smiled back. And then marched up to the nearest dumpster, flung in open, and hollered, “CASEY JR!! YOUR MOM AND UNCLE RAPH ARE HERE TO TAKE YOU HOME! SOUND OFF IF YOU’RE IN HERE!”

---

Leo knew Donnie was still up, because when he’d left him he had been working on something. And Donnie didn’t ever stop working on something; he either finished or got them to “reasonable checkpoints” that he was satisfied with, and then set them down until later. Leo’d been heading towards his lab, and in doing so he passed the kitchen. Something moved somewhere inside it.

Krang noticed it too. He cocked his head to the side, expression twisting suspiciously. He gave Leo a look that suggested “go find out what that was.” Leo nodded, already walking – “roger that, already on it.”

Leo walked over and flicked on the kitchen light to get a better look at whatever was going on.

Ah, just the turtle he’d been looking for! Donnie was now standing frozen in the middle of the kitchen, looking… guilty? Huh, come to think of it, why had he been rustling around with the lights off in the middle of the night—?

“…Don is that coffee?”

Donnie glared. “How many energy drinks are under your bed right now ’Nardo?”

“Psh,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. “None.” About two cases.

Donnie narrowed his eyes, then turned expectantly to Krang.

Krang tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed. “‘Energy’ what?” he asked innocently. Good, at least he wasn’t a snitch.

Donnie huffed, unconvinced and lightly insulted at the attempt to pull the wool over his eyes.

Leo tactfully changed topics: “SoheyDonnie, could I ask you a random question?”

Now Donnie raised a marker-brow, intrigued and self-important in the most Donnie-sort-of-way possible. (Which wasn’t a crack at Donnie, actually – whatever he was doing to make it a “Donnie-sort-of-way” only made Leo want to roll his eyes. Usually, self-importance made him want to punch somebody in the mouth.)

“That depends,” Donnie said, taking a slow, haughty sip of his coffee. “What are our opinions on my evening coffee now?”

Yep, eye-roll, right on cue. “Totally justified.”

“And will we be telling Raph?”

Leo made a face, outraged, and put a hand on his own chest. “Asked like it was ever something I was gonna do in the first place! Jeeze Don, does the Younger-Brothers Code mean anything to you?!”

(“What’s the ‘younger brothers code’?” Krang asked quietly.

“If me, Donnie, or Mikey catch either of the other two doing something sketchy, we don’t tell Raph,” Leo whispered back.)

Donnie shrugged pointedly. “Just had to be sure. If I’m remembering correctly, you broke Younger-Brothers Code just recently when you learned I had empyrean, so—”

Leo gasped, offended. “I did not. The Code doesn’t apply if it seems like one of us is going to do something that could get them or anybody else hurt, and YOU had already caused one explosion with the stuff!”

“Hm. That doesn’t sound like me.” Another sip. “So anyway, what was your question?”

Now it was Leo’s turn to narrow his eyes a little. Because surrrre, change the subject when it veered towards something he didn’t like. Typical. Oh well:

“Why do teeth rot?”

Donnie stared at him for a second.

“…part of me questions as to why you’ve brought this particular question to me at—” He checked his wrist-gizmo. “—10:39 PM, but the other part is too thrilled at the fact that you’ve come to me of your own volition to learn about science to rightfully care!

“Ahem: Tooth decay, or cavities, occur when acid from bacteria dissolves the hard tissues of the teeth –so that would be your enamel, dentin and cementum. The acid is produced by the bacteria when they break down food debris or sugar on the tooth surface – simple sugars in food are these bacteria's primary energy source, and thus a diet high in simple sugar is a risk factor. This is where the assertion that sugar will ‘rot one’s teeth’ comes from, when in reality, it’s not the sugar at all! The reason this tends to happen when proper dental hygiene isn’t observed – that is to say, brushing one’s teeth – is because the sugar upon which the bacteria feeds is allowed to sit on the teeth, giving the bacteria more of an opportunity to release the acid which leads to decay.”

Leo felt like he’d gone slightly cross-eyed from that explanation. He turned to Krang, feeling a little dazed, and asked, “That clear things up for ya, Tentacruel?”

He nodded. Then, disgusted and a little horrified (and with a decent amount of pettiness, because why not), “So your mouths are bacteria farms, then. Good to know.”

Donnie opened his mouth to say something, then paused for a second, apparently considering. “…Krang don’t have upwards of twenty-billion bacteria in their mouths?” he clarified to Krang. Then, before he could answer, “Is Krang saliva some sort of antiseptic?”

Not missing a beat, calm as anything, Krang spat.

As Leo and Donnie stared at the wet splot on Donnie’s arm in stunned, silent horror, Krang asked, almost bored, “Do you feel cleaner?”

A beat.

“I am— I am disgusted,” Donnie said, monotone but staring at the spit with wild eyes, like he might explode, “I am revolted— AUGH!!”

Leo didn’t have time to ask Donnie if the meme-reference was on purpose, or if the holy ghost of Vines past had just taken the opportunity to speak through him. He turned on his heel and marched himself and his coffee out of the room, presumably to go clean off Krang-spit.

“Sorry about that Don!” Leo called after him. As he disappeared around the corner, Leo rounded on his parasite.

“Dude that wasn’t funny.”

“He says through barely contained glee.”

It was true, sort of – Krang’s complete nonchalance paired with Donnie’s patented over-the-top reaction was fighting to pull a laugh out of Leo. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep contained.

“Just because what you did was outta left-field, not because it was funny. Don’t spit on people, it’s gross!”

“When you lob your twenty-billion bacteria at people, yes. Very ‘gross.’ But that’s not what I did, so it’s fine.”

“Don’t lob your mouth juice at people, with or without bacteria!” Leo burst, the laugh finally escaping. Because what the flying farfegnugen was this conversation??

Krang made a short sound in the back of his throat, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “‘Mouth juice’?”

“I said what I said!” Leo insisted, which probably would’ve sounded a lot more steadfast if the thought of “don’t laugh, it’s not funny!” wasn’t giving him the giggles.

The other corner of Krang’s mouth rose to match the first. He pressed the back of his tentacle to the smile that had formed and looked away. His efforts didn’t hide his giggles like he’d probably been hoping they would.

Leo’s smile widened.

“Huh, who’da thunk the age-old answer to ‘how to make a Horchata laugh’ would end up being dick-jokes and mouth juice – heck of a sense of humor ya got Cuddlelumps—!”

“I have no idea what you’re referring to,” Krang deflected, still not looking at him and biting his inner cheek to (unsuccessfully) hide his smile.

“I made you laugh!”

“You’re making yourself laugh, Pest.”

“No, you made me laugh—”

Krang finally turned back to look at him, head tilted and a crooked smile across his face.

“Yes yes, ‘outta left field,’ whatever that means, you said.” he said dismissively, still smiling. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind – thank you for seeking out information for me and all, however – might we relocate back to your room now?”

As Leo rolled his eyes and started walking (because yeah, probably not the best idea to hang around in the kitchen after he’d already brushed his teeth for the night, considering what his appetite had been like), Krang went on, “Honestly, why you didn’t just go there and search the answer on your phone in the first place is beyond me. There are limitless articles on that thing, I’m sure there would have been one describing your bacteria-rich mouth juice.”

“I mean yeah, unquestionably,” Leo agreed, “but I wanted to know too!”

Krang raised a brow, confused. “And? You could have also read it? It’s not like the device would’ve been unreadably far for you. Even if it was, you could’ve just taken it back to read it yourself once I was finished.”

Leo’s smile faltered.

Krang noticed didn’t he always? “What?”

Leo deflected again, pretty typical: “‘What’ what?”

Krang scowled. “‘What-what’ what, why did you suddenly get embarrassed?”

Leo stalled. “Let’s get back to the room first, sound good?"

They got back to the room, and Leo’s time ran out. Which, kinda silly he stalled in the first place, even sillier he’d kinda insisted-without-actually-insisting Krang wait until they were in private to talk about it, because it wasn’t like his whole family didn’t know this already.

(But the topic wasn’t comfortable, and Leo WAS sort of embarrassed, and talking about any combo of those two things was hard, so silly or not stalling was what he did. Mostly just because he couldn’t brush things off completely, because Krang never stinkin’ let him. Ugh.)

“It’s nothing big,” Leo said honestly, because it really wasn’t, “I’m just not that good of a reader, that’s all.”

He needed something to do, he decided. He settled for digging around his shelf, trying to find the switch April had given him for his birthday. (Donnie had gotten one too, obviously, albeit one with purple and green joy-cons as opposed to Leo’s blue and green). He didn’t feel much like playing anything at the moment, but honestly he probably wouldn’t have been able to even if he had. Thing probably needed to charge up to even turn on, first, it’d been a minute since he’d played it…

Krang, meanwhile, was giving him a searching look.

“I’ve seen you read…” he said doubtfully. “You seemed fine at it to me…”

“That’s comics,” Leo said. “Those are fine – the words are usually only ever a couple sentences long, and even if I miss something, I can usually just follow what’s happening with the pictures. Going through big paragraphs – which those science-y articles always have – is just… y’know, rough…”

Krang stared at him a moment more. Leo continually felt very small.

He was suddenly seven years old all over again, complaining to Mikey to stop clicking through the dialogue of the videogame they were supposed to be playing together, and actually read it all of it. Mikey said he had. Donnie and Raph, who were watching them play, confirmed they had both read through all the dialogue no problem too.

Donnie speculated his reading comprehension must just be subpar. Which, since he clearly wasn’t good with words, basically meant he was a big dum-dum. Which then cued up teasing from Mikey and Raph. Leo stuck his tongue out at Donnie and called him an egghead, then said he had to go to the bathroom. Don’t stop playing, he’d be back soon, just one minute, and then he went and sat in his room. Mikey came to find him a couple hours later, asking why he hadn’t come back. He said he’d gotten bored and decided to go play by himself. Mikey was hurt and angry that he’d been ditched, and had given him an almost comically pointed silent treatment for two days.

(Leo had actually tried to come back as quick as he could, but by the time he’d stopped crying he’d been gone too long to brush it off, so he’d just stayed where he was.)

Krang was still looking at him. “What about the ‘big paragraphs’ is more difficult to read than smaller ones in your comix—?”

“The letters move too fast for me,” Leo blurted. “It’s stupid, I know, but I never claimed to be smart, alright?”

Krang’s question had been genuine enough. It had probably deserved a fairly level answer back. But Leo was feeling more than a little scrutinized and – yeah – embarrassed. So the answer that had come out a little more irritated than he’d even meant for it to.

So he was very, very surprised when – instead of Krang matching his irritation for his uncalled-for response way to take a nice moment and make it spiral into shit, Leo – Krang instead squawked, “The letters do what??”

Leo’s hands stopped digging. He’d pinpointed his Switch, it’d been (apparently, he had no memory of putting it here, he needed to learn to take better care of his stuff) near the top of a box under his shelf. He'd pulled it out, then began shuffling things around, looking for the cord he’d need to charge it. He was now too thrown to care much about the cord.

“They, um… like switch around?” he said, suddenly unsure. He hoped this wasn’t a communication issue of some sort, because he couldn’t think of how else to describe it. “Y’know, like how when you… when you go too fast and all the words just sort of turn into soup? Except ‘too fast’ for me is apparently normal for everyone else, so, um…”

He really didn’t know what else to say.

Krang looked flabbergasted. “Well no wonder you struggle to read! How could anyone if the letters are— Is it like that for all earthlings?!”

“…I— I mean I always figured it… was…?”

But Leo was realizing just now, he wasn’t sure.

Did his brothers really not have to deal with this…?

“…is that not the deal for Krang?” Leo finally asked uselessly, unsure of what else to do.

“It is decidedly not,” Krang said firmly. “The letters are completely stationary upon whatever surface they appear on.”

When it was clear Leo wasn’t going to say anything else of use (couldn’t, more specifically), Krang said, “Get out your phone, we need to see if this is common amongst your kind.”

Leo shifted a bit uncomfortably where he knelt on the ground, fiddling with the Switch’s buttons. “…yeah, um… the ‘big paragraphs’ –thing kinda screws with that idea just a little bit—”

“I can read them just fine,” Krang said shortly. “I’ll read whatever results I find to you – give me your phone.”

A couple minutes later, Leo and Krang were lying in bed, Leo’s switch charging on top of the subway-seats-turned-headboard above their heads, going down a checklist for “dyslexia” together.

(“‘Never claimed to be smart,’” Krang sneered under his breath. “The blasted words are moving and YOU think it’s an issue of intelligence – you are utterly exhausting, Pest.”)

---

Donnie re-entered his lab, arm held out in front of him and slightly aloft.

Was this situation disgusting? Oh absolutely it was. He couldn’t think of a single person who wouldn’t have been completely horrified upon going through what he’d just experienced. But he was – always had been, always would be – a turtle of opportunity.

He walked over to the cabinet he kept his materials for dealing with biological hazards. Gingerly, he extracted a swab, swiped the – eugh – saliva off his forearm, then just as gingerly deposited it in a sanitary bio-bag.

He had his sample.

Notes:

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!: What Donnie said to Leo when they were kids was meant to be a joke. He was just doing some brotherly ball-busting for fun, not actually call Leo dumb. Something that Mr. Hamato “I know I say this about Donnie a lot but: demon possession!!” Leonardo really should have picked up on. And probably would have, if the comment hadn’t hit him right in the inferiority complex. So instead he internalized it and never actually explained to his brothers or dad why he struggled so much, and instead just played things off as not caring about reading. (And, obviously, sticking to things like comics and “just reading the comments” on articles.)

Chapter 21: Acclimation Montage

Notes:

Shout-out to Fiddle again! They suggested something in the comments of ch. 18, and it actually served as the perfect way to steer development in the direction I wanted it! So thank you Fiddle!

Also thank you to Wig yet again for helping me out with ideas for one of the sections, even if the trajectory of the scene sort of took a left turn as it progressed. I ended up not using what I wrote that pertained to her suggestions, but still! Acknowledgement where it’s due! And I’ve got a scene rearing to go for a later chapter, which is nice!

It’d been almost a week since they’d all gone to scope out the apartment building the Spine-Breaking Bandit had last been seen, and a bit less since the guy had actually attacked anyone. Which was good, technically, or at least it was for the people of New York. By all appearances, he’d finished up for the year. Made his rounds and slunk back to whatever lackluster excuse he had for a life until his next go at things. (Leo assumed his life was lackluster, anyway – people with happy, fulfilling lives didn’t typically go around mangling people.)

It was less good for April (and, by proxy, the rest of the fam), since this meant there were no other places to look for clues.

The last two victims were guys who – like all the others so far (save one) – lived alone. Sort of. The first of the two was the only person on his lease (and had been alone at the time of the attack), but he had a girlfriend that acted as an unofficial roommate. She was over at his place often enough, anyway – had a drawer in his dresser just for her, and a place for her toothbrush in the bathroom.

How did they know this? Because every time they all tried to peep over to his apartment to see if they could glean any info from it, like they’d tried when they’d first fallen down this rabbit hole, she was there. Presumably to keep an eye on the place while the guy was in the hospital, and act as general upkeep so he wouldn’t come back to a dusty, expired-food-filled apartment when he got back. Which, primo-girlfriend-points to her, honestly – her boyfriend got attacked in his own home, and she went, “I’m gonna stand watch over the same home you got attacked in, by myself, to make sure nobody else messes with it.” What a lady. If Leo had any way to contact the guy without it seeming suspicious, he’d tell him to marry her the second he could stand upright without a brace. That’s a gal you wanna hold onto, buckeroo.

But yeah. Apart from learning he had a stand-up girlfriend, that was all the information they were able to get on that guy. Not especially helpful in terms of finding the guy who’d attacked him. So that was a little bit of a bummer.

The second guy, chillingly, lived in the apartment building Kim West had seen the SBB duck into. It wasn’t clear if the SBB had marked the building as a hunting ground before he’d hidden from Kim in it, or if he’d decided on it during the time he’d spent crouched in its entry. Or hell, maybe he remembered it sometime after. Guess it really didn’t matter in the long run. Whatever his reasoning for it, he went back, and someone got mangled.

It wasn’t the old guy he’d stolen the cab from, at least – the one who’d been going out to get catfood in the middle of the night. Which… maybe meant he wasn’t planning his hits out at all? If you were going to hit a place you’d already been seen at, wouldn’t it make the most sense to try to take out the guy who saw you? So maybe the fact that he ended up in that building was just a coincidence?

But then, as Mikey pointed out, he’d have to be planning things at least a little. What were the odds that all his victims just happened to be lone-living men (again, save the one who’d had a roommate)? That sounded more like he had a preferred Type than anything. Which… yeah. Yeah, Leo hadn’t had a counterargument for that. Point to the true-crime aficionado.

The only thing of note in that guy’s apartment was a mess left in the kitchen. Apparently, that’s where the victim had been attacked. The melted tub of ice cream and open jar of maraschino cherries suggested he’d been making himself a sundae. This was how Leo learned that, apparently, the police didn’t clean up anything after they’d done their own pass at evidence-gathering. Not only had the ice cream been left out to melt (and probably slowly going sour, if the guy didn’t get back home soon), but there was still a sloppy puddle of dried Hershey’s syrup in the middle of the floor. There was a trail cutting through the middle of it, and a weird pattern in the bottom corner. The pattern gave Leo the impression that someone had been poking their index into the syrup, making little spots.

It was pretty sick to imagine that after breaking the guy’s spine, the SBB had taken a quick break to fingerpaint with chocolate syrup, presumably while the poor dude was lying several feet away, moaning in agony. Assuming it hadn’t been the victim himself, anyway. But then, why would he? This wasn’t like a murder mystery, where someone had been stabbed and used the last of their strength to scribble out a clue in their own blood. There was no reason to try to write anything in syrup; the guy was alive. It was just that – like all the other victims – he couldn’t offer any sort of description of the guy who’d attacked him.

Granted, Leo couldn’t come up with a reason why the Bandit would play in the syrup, either. Neither could anyone else, when he pointed it out. Still, it made a lot more sense for the weird pattern to have come from him rather than the guy who’d probably been more preoccupied with having just gotten the thing that kept him upright snapped. It was the closest thing they had to a clue, for this reason, even if nobody had the slightest idea of what to do with it yet.

Irregardless, Donnie and April were unmoved from their respective goals of tracking the SBB down. April’s efforts were admittedly a little stone-walled at the moment (no new evidence, probably no hope of getting more for at least a year), but she wasn’t letting that slow her down. She was trying to discretely get in contact with some past victims for interviews, to see if there was any information they could offer that the fam had missed during the Bandit’s most recent go-around.

Donnie, meanwhile, was just as determined as ever to use the footage he’d hacked for… something. Pinpointing where the SBB had gone after he’d been dropped off from the cab was looking less and less likely, but – per usual – that wasn’t something Donnie was about to let stop him.

Anyway. Completely separate from the Spine-Breaking Bandit, and not that anyone was keeping super close track or anything (Leo definitely wasn’t – time was as much of a blur to him as it ever was), but he and Uno were creeping up on their… twooo month-iversary as parasite and host? Give or take? Hold on, how many weeks was it actually, quick calandar-app check…

…just crossed the threshold into eleven weeks! Uber exciting milestone, obviously, please don’t everyone give them your congratulations all at once.

Leo had debated pointing this out to Krang when it occurred to him, but pretty quickly changed his mind. Or at least, he decided not to point it out in the exact moment he’d realized it – Mikey, Raph, and Dad had been hanging around at the time. Leo didn’t know if pointing out the timeline would have a good or bad effect on any of them, so rather than take any risks he’d just kept his mouth shut. He was then almost immediately distracted by something Mikey said, and forgot he was ever going to say anything. By the time he remembered again, the moment had passed. Aw well.

The point: It’d been about eleven weeks since Leo’s found out he had a built-in sidekick.

---

Week 11, Thursday

“Did you get any of that chocolate-drizzle-popcorn?” Krang’s host asked as he rummaged through plastic bags.

“Nnno, don’t think so,” Michael replied absently, preoccupied with transferring boxes into their designated storage shelves. “Wasn’t on the list.”

“Aw man, I’ve been thinking about that stuff all week…”

“Put it on the list next time!”

It was Krang’s understanding that Michael had gone out to fetch rations and other amenities, as apparently the group was low. Krang and his host had remained at the base, which was both good and bad in turns, in Krang’s opinion. It had meant Krang hadn’t been required to wait silently in his host’s shell, pretending he didn’t exist until such a time where they weren’t surrounded by humans, which was preferred.

On the secondary tentacle, the rat had been shadowing his host for the last couple hours, and had only backed off once said host had expressed a desire to help Michael put away ‘the groceries.’ Which… harmless enough, Krang supposed, but still incredibly annoying. He hadn’t needed to hide in his host’s shell, but he still hadn’t exactly been welcome to join the conversation. He would’ve much rather he and his host simply go to their room, and find something to entertain themselves, by themselves. But no, that concept was yet again thwarted by his host’s family deciding they absolutely had to pester them right that moment.

They seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. At least Krang could argue that meant everything was going to plan, but still.

Presently, Krang listened to his host and Michael converse. His expression remained neutral, because frankly it would be beneath him to react to this conversation in any capacity. In reality he was just about as displeased with the news about the pop-korn as his host was, but that was solely because it now meant he’d have to weather his host’s disappointment as though it was his own. Clearly. Nothing to do with the fact that his host had promised to share the pop-korn with him. Ridiculous. The point being, one would never guess any of the above based off his expression alone.

…although it would be Michael to neglect this sort of thing and ruin it for the both of them, wouldn’t it—?

“What are you planning to do with the hamburger?” asked his host.

“Either burgers or those barbecue-sauce meatballs everyone liked.”

“Ooh, my vote’s on the meatballs!”

Krang huffed, throwing his host a look that he didn’t catch. He wanted burgers.

There was a bright orange container poking out of one of the bags close by. It was different than the rest of the boxes and bags that surrounded it, so it caught Krang’s attention. He picked it up, inspecting it.

He could smell whatever was inside of it without even opening it, and it smelt… well, good. The picture on the front (assuming it was of the product inside, which Krang had gleaned to often be the case) looked enticing as well. He opened the container to find that the foodstuffs inside were small – could easily fit in his host’s palm.

Well, if Michael had plans for these things and didn’t’ want people eating them yet, he should’ve made more of a point to remember his host’s pop-korn. Krang took one out and put it in his mouth.

…stars ABOVE—

There was something nostalgic about it, it was almost like what he would consume back before, when the Krang had been at the height of their power. It tasted similar to their rations, but also with a distinctly… earthen (?) flavor to it.

These were… good. These were VERY good.

He scooped up three or four more.

“Find something tasty, Tentacruel?” his host asked, still shuffling through bags.

“Mmhm,” Krang mumbled, mouth full of… whatever this stuff was.

His host opened his mouth, turning his head slightly towards Krang and pointedly saying “aaaaahh,” but not bothering to take his eyes off what he was doing. Krang took one of the little packets from the container and put it into his mouth for him. His host chewed, swallowed, and his eyes got wide.

“Holy shit that’s delicious, what is—?”

He stopped. He’d finally turned to look at what Krang was eating/had just fed him. His expression went totally blank.

“…what?” Krang asked, raising a brow as he popped another packet into his mouth.

“Donnie!!” his host suddenly hollered deeper into the base, making Krang and Michael jump. “Help I’ve made a MISTAKE—!!”

…so apparently “Tide Pods” were considered supremely toxic to earthlings when ingested. Or at least, earthlings who hadn’t had been granted the gift of Krangs’ influence. After many, many, many tests, Donaldtello – with prominent notes of befuddlement, consternation, and awe in his voice – gave Krang’s host a clean bill of health. Whatever effect Tide Pods were supposed to have, they weren’t having it on him. The greater portion of the group seemed incredibly disquieted by this revelation, for whatever reason.

Krang’s host, for once, didn’t really seem to notice. Once it was confirmed that eating them wouldn’t cause any ill-effects on his health, he was very eager to resume his consumption of them. Which, he wouldn’t catch Krang complaining about!

So, of course, his host’s stupid family had to jump in and spoil their time.

“Leo no we need these for laundry!” Michael insisted, holding the container to his chest and fending off Krang’s host with his foot. “We’re almost out of towels, we gotta wash some!”

“Mikey, I need you to understand – if you could eat one of those without dying, you’d wanna chow down on ’em too!” He flailed in his brother’s direction, kept at bay by the foot on his chest. “Just bum us a couple and then we’ll leave the rest alone, I swear!”

(Krang, meanwhile, was cursing the lack of reach his current size allotted him. If his tentacles had been just a bit longer, he would’ve been able to grab the container from Michael while his host distracted him.)

Michael bent his outstretched leg just slightly, closing the distance between Krang’s host and the Tide Pod container (so close—!), and then re-extended it, pushing his host off. He stumbled backwards a bit at the shove.

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Leon,” he said, eyes narrowed in dramatic offense and holding the Tide Pod container a bit tighter. “I give you a couple and then that turns into ‘just one more,’ and then even more, and then before you know it the whole thing’s gone.” With finality, “These are for laundry.”

Krang’s host’s brow furrowed, and Krang glared. He was almost about to signal for his host to just leave, so they could devise a strategy for how to divest his brother of the pods in private. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult to steal the container out from under him. Judging by how his host kept glancing at it, he was thinking something similar.

“But,” Michael continued suddenly, “if you guys can just wait and not eat these, I’ll go get you some just for snacking.” Then, thinking a moment, “If you can give me a few days, I could experiment a little and see if I could turn these into, like… actual meals. I’d need to get whole new pans and stuff, because I’m not ruining the ones I’ve got trying to cook soap, and I mean I don’t actually know if I’ll be able to really cook with these but… whaddya say?”

Krang looked at his host. His host looked at him. They both silently weighed their options with each other.

Reaching a consensus, they looked back to Michael. “Deal.”

(Krang would reluctantly admit to finding Michael slightly less intolerable than usual in that moment.)

---

Week 11, Sunday

“Uggggggggghh why am I even here?”

“Because, ’Nardo, this is one of the rare moments I require assistance with one of my many incredible scientific pursuits. Now stop moving, you’re giving me inconsistent readings.”

Leo glanced at Krang, and they both silently called bullshit.

The “assistance” Donnie needed basically amounted to “hold this thing in place so I can get a signal off of it.” Leo was currently sat in a chair beside him, holding some antenna-looking-thing slightly above his head, so Donnie could triangulate some science-blahdy-blahdy-blah. Donnie had like a bajillion bits bobs and whatsits to help with his experiments, specifically so he wouldn’t have to ask anyone for help. According to him, that sort of thing just slowed him down.

Except now he needed Leo for something this simple and boring? Yeah, no, shenanigans were definitely afoot. Leo had already been getting an inkling of that for the last couple days, and now he was sure of it.

Mikey had sort of been following him around since he woke up. Not that weird, he’d kinda done it his whole life. Came with littlest-brother territory, or something. Anyway, he was trying to pick his and Uno’s brains for recipe ideas to try out with Tide Pods. Eventually, Raph had eeked his way into their conversation, and then it was the three of them (well, four counting Krang, but Leo was strictly talking in terms of his immediate family here, stay with him). This suited Leo just fine. Except it wasn’t too long after Raph joined Leo and Mikey that Mikey broke off to go do something unrelated. Which, honestly, cool. Quality time with Big Bro, Leo was down for that. Especially since he hadn’t really hung out with Raph much since… this whole situation started. Which made sense, Leo wasn’t gonna whine about it or anything – it probably tied into why Raph was acting a little weird the whole time. Not super noticeably or anything, more like… there was obvious tension there. Which, considering how his eyes would flick to Krang to glare every thirty seconds…

It’d been like that since the start of this whole situation, too. Leo could guess why. Did so much as looking at Leo make him uncomfortable now? Did he resent him for being a constant reminder of what he went through during the invasion? What if Leo was never able to spend time with Raph like normal again because of this?

Leo wasn’t sure if he was relieved when Raph excused himself to go do something, or if he felt continually worse.

Funny thing, though… no sooner had Raph left, and who should come marching over, abruptly demanding he needed Leo to come help him in his lab? Leo was distracted from all his internal crap by realizing how very “changing of the guard” it all felt.

Thinking back on things, it’d been a hot minute since he’d had any time alone. Well— “alone” being a relative term, obviously, but you get it. Everyone had been kindaaa… clingy wasn’t the right word, but it was all Leo could think of at the moment – they’d been getting clingy again. Which, again, Leo wasn’t complaining about, per se. He’d always been a people-person.

He loved spending time with his bros. What he hated was feeling like he was being baby-sat. Which was rapidly what he was starting to think was happening. And for what?? He’d understood why everyone had been hovering back before as much as he hadn’t really liked it; it was because they were worried about him. It was pretty obvious at this point that Uno couldn’t do anything to hurt any of them, what had reignited the worry? What could Leo possibly have done recently so as to make everybody think he was incompetent enough to need ’round the clock supervision, again?

…did this make him ungrateful? Or at the very least, a huge hypocrite? When this whole thing started he’d been all “my family doesn’t wanna spend time with me, boo hoo, cry cry.” Yet now that they were spending time with him, he was getting pressed over the why? Shouldn’t he be grateful, whatever their reasoning was? Especially since spending time with them was back to being fun. That sad, pitying undertone to everything seemed to have dried up. They’d all ditched the weird “we’re gonna station ourselves around you all the time but treat you like you’ve got one foot out the door of life the whole time” –vibe they’d had. It was a lot better now! Why did he have to nitpick every single little thing and get upset about it—?

Uno shifted on his shoulder, seemingly bored, and one of his tentacles brushed the spot just under Leo’s jaw. Leo blinked.

Then he abruptly asked, “How much longer am I gonna have to hold this thing?”

Donnie looked up from the screen he was staring at, hands slowing atop his keyboard (not stopping, mind you, but the clip at which they were moving definitely downshifted). “Until I’ve gotten all the info I need? Obviously?”

“Couldja try to hurry it up, then?” Leo requested, deadpan. “My arms are getting tired…”

Donnie just rolled his eyes. To which Leo came back with, “Hey! If you take too long, my arms give out, and you lose your ‘signal’ or whatever, it’s gonna be on you! No skin off my teeth if this whole deal is a complete bust!”

“Noted.”

(See, he was saying that with a tone of “uh-huh yeah sure Leo whatever,” but he was typing quicker now.)

Leo adjusted his grip, trying to see if he could find a position that offered his arms some relief without actually jimmying the antenna too much. No such luck. “What kinda ‘info’ are you gathering again, exactly?”

“Leo, I explained this to you before we even started—”

“He’s trying to locate additional radiowaves on the street your spine-breaker was last seen,” Krang cut in. “Something about how – since the cameras from the local businesses are too low-quality to glean much useful information from – he’s attempting to ascertain if a camera set up by a civilian within their apartment might have caught something on the street outside.”

“…oh. Okay,” Leo said. Then, feeling like he knew the answer (and not really having a place to judge, and he acknowledged that, but still), he asked, “Is that legal…?”

“‘Legality’ is a spectrum,” Donnie dismissed. “I do whatever is the most efficient way to achieve the goal I’ve been set.”

“…hm,” said Krang. “An earthling with common-sense. That’s refreshing.”

Donnie stopped typing altogether and wheeled around sharply in his seat, staring intently at Krang. His expression looked to be a mixture of surprise and something that seemed familiar, but that Leo couldn’t totally place. Then, quickly replacing surprise, confusion.

All at once, Leo realized why the second half of Donnie’s expression looked familiar. It was the same look he got when Dad (or any of his bros, or April, or Big Mama that one time) told him he’d done a good job.

If either of his hands had been free, he would’ve slapped his own forehead in exasperation.

“…well?” Krang demanded when Donnie’s incredulous staring dragged on a little too long. “What are you waiting for? Get back to it!”

Donnie snapped forward like a soldier who’d just received an order, somehow both newly determined and still more confused. Oi vey.

“Yeah, again, the sooner we wrap this up the better,” Leo put in, fully aware he was griping (though not especially caring).

Krang rolled his eyes, giving a massively irritated “tch” as he exhaled. He then lifted one of his tentacles to the underside of the antenna doohickey, taking some of the weight off Leo’s arms.

…taking a lot of the weight off his arms, actually. It was easy to forget what a powerhouse the guy actually was, what with how small he was now.

“Thanks for the help, Horchata,” Leo said, and meant it. 

Krang gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re strong enough to do this on your own, you know. There’s no reason why you should need help…”

“I was doing it on my own!” Leo insisted. “Doesn’t matter how ‘strong’ you are; muscles get tired, whaddya want?”

Krang scoffed again.

---

Week 12, Tuesday

Earthlings had a holiday dedicated to horror, apparently. Or something like that – when Krang had looked it up on his host’s phone, there’d been a whole history involved, which he hadn’t bothered reading. He didn’t care enough. Regardless, whatever the day had originated as, the premise now (or at least as far as his host cared) revolved around, quote, “spooky stuff.”

Which, in this case, apparently meant donning paper-thin disguises, “for fun.” His host had taken to emulating the human from his dopamine-hit. He’d given an entire explanation that Krang hadn’t asked for about how he’d gone as the human before a few years ago, and yes some might say it was cheap – or at least repetitive – to go as something he’d already been more than once, but there was a difference between being repetitive and a throwback, in his opinion, and besides, the suit he was wearing was from a different movie than the suit his last costume had been from, so that counted as different enough, right?

(Again, Krang hadn’t asked for any of this information, but he’d still wound up listening to and absorbing it all anyway. Go figure.)

Apriloneil had dragged Krang’s host and his brothers out to a club (very much NOT like the last one Krang had been in, thank fuck) to “celebrate.” Some sort of themed event, allegedly.

It was loud, and very, very crowded. Krang had been able to tolerate the previous establishment because being inside it had involved working towards a goal. Anything could be tolerated if a greater plot necessitated it. Without that, it was just… it was an annoyance. He was just annoyed. Krang pressed as far down into his host’s shell as he could go to try to escape the situation in its entirely. A resounding failure, unfortunately.

He hadn’t been in the prison dimension in weeks, why was he still reacting this way—?

They were there for about an hour, something Krang would only come to learn later. It’d felt much longer. His host spoke to him a few times throughout, though what he’d said Krang couldn’t properly discern (again: The establishment was loud). He got the sense he was being asked questions, but – unable to hear what they were – he didn’t answer any of them.

His host then rather abruptly announced to the Apriloneil (who’d been closest at the time – the other three had apparently danced off somewhere) that he was feeling “bleeeugh” all of a sudden, and was going to head back to base. He blamed it on eating too much candy before they headed out when asked what was wrong with him. He told her to keep partying and pass along the sentiment to his brothers, send him pictures if they got up to anything crazy, and then slipped away before she could protest too much or ask too many questions.

Funny thing, though… from what Krang could tell, his host felt fine. More to the point, to memory, he hadn’t consumed any candy before they’d left…

When Krang inquired about this after they were safely back in their room, his host claimed he’d just been bored with that club, and hadn’t felt like hanging around. Color Krang leery. When Krang pressed, he was once more shrugged off.

“What can I say?” his host asked. “Gemini’s really raised my standards.”

The comment had NOT pulled a surprised huff of laughter out of Krang. He didn’t know what his host was smiling about.

Since the previous activities had allegedly been lackluster and they didn’t have anything else to do, his host had settled on having their own “celebration” just the two of them. Interestingly, part of what he settled on doing for this involved gorging on the candy he had allegedly already had too much of. The other part involved watching more films, albeit more “on-theme” than his usual stock.

In more ways than one, according to him.

“So okay,” Krang’s host began, putting a deeveedee disk into the player across from the bed, “I’ve never actually seen this movie, but I keep meaning to. Got this—” (by which Krang assumed he meant the aforementioned deeveedee) “—forever ago, and just never got around to watching it. So since it’s a sci-fi/horror classic – emphasis on horror – I’m deciding tonight’s the night I finally do, and I’m taking you along for the ride.”

“Lucky me,” Krang replied monotonously.

His host ignored him. “This movie’s also always getting compared to Jupiter Jim: The Enemy Within— well, sorta. Actually Enemy Within is what’s always getting compared to it, because this actually came out first. JJ’s didn’t come out until ’83, this one came out innnn ’79, I think? ’78? Whatever, the 70s. People were all up in arms because ‘ohh, JJ’s copying, they’re just trying to cash in on what’s popular.’ Which, yeah, maybe that was what was happening a little – because JJ’s totally the first ANYTHING to do that, gasp-shock-horror-burn-the-witch – except, first, this movie has ‘~themes~’ and junk, allegedly, whereas Enemy Within is more like… lore-heavy for the JJ series as a whole? Second, this is rated R, where JJ is as family-friendly as it ever is. So technically Enemy Within had to be more creative when trying to do freaky stuff.”

(Krang hadn’t the foggiest clue what “rated R” was meant to signify. Or “family-friendly,” come to think of it, nor what either had to do with each other. Was one more suited to watch in large groups? Like how he’d noticed the “family packs” of his host’s food were bigger than average, and therefore able to be shared with more people? Did the R therefore stand for… reclusive or something?)

His host fell back onto the bed, waving his hand as though hurrying the topic along. “Anyway, that’s sort of why I kept meaning to watch this – I wanna see how it stacks against Enemy Within, and if people have a point to be upset or if they’re pitching a fit over nothing. After this we can watch some more… classic Halloween-horror stuff, but for now we’re starting here. Plus there’s some…! Other stuff I wanna compare this movie to!”

Hm. Cryptic. Krang opted not to bite on the presumed bait being waved in his face, and instead settled against his host’s neck. He’d sat through films of his host’s choosing before. He’d allow this, for the time being.

Krang found himself wishing his host was showing him another one of his “JJ” films before they even hit the five minute mark. Stars above why was it taking such pains to – slowly – reveal so much as the title? And then just move to a bunch of lingering, panning shots around what appeared to be a ship? His host’s preferred media would’ve outlined the entire adventure by now – get to the point.

The only thing that kept him from being overt about his boredom and distaste was the fact that his host kept passing him candy, which consequently kept his mouth otherwise busy (Krang found himself enjoying “Twix” in particular out of all of them).

It took over a half-hour for something interesting to happen. An “organism” (film’s words) had attached itself to the face of one of the characters. Attempts to remove it from the character would “tear his face off with it.” It had something down the character’s throat, presumably feeding him oxygen (since it was covering his entire face and blocking his airways).

Essentially, killing one would involve killing the other. Krang gave a mostly involuntary exclamation of “wait a minute—!” and pointed at the screen reflexively once the obvious comparison occurred to him.

“Right??” his host said, openly laughing at his reaction. “I remembered this was a kind of famous plot-point for this series a couple weeks ago, and went ‘hey wait that sounds familiar!’ I mean like geeze, did the generation of Grandpa-Krang sell the rights to your whole parasite-deal to Fox or something?” He shuddered suddenly. “Thanks for not attaching to my face for this whole situation, I guess…”

Krang was, admittedly (almost reluctantly), more invested in the film past this point. Even though it took another twenty minutes before anything else happened.

Right there on his host’s television, Krang witnessed a birth. There was less chewing involved than he was used to, and with much more… upwards/outwards projectile-like motions, but in essence, he’d personally experienced what he was seeing many times.

The small spawn that emerged from the gore paused, seemingly surveyed the humans surrounding it and staring in horror, and then positively zipped away.

Krang couldn’t help it – he laughed. He felt no concern about his host possibly scolding him for it (because earth sentiment, or something – that human was almost assuredly dead after that), because he laughed too.

“Bye, I guess??” his host said through laughter. “Sheesh, I wonder what the script directions for that was – ‘alien bursts out of guy’s chest then NYOOMS offscreen’?” Then, slowly getting a grip on himself, “Glad you didn’t announce you were here that way, yuck.”

Krang suddenly started giggling without pause at the thought that just occurred to him, unable to stop himself. When his host turned to look at him questioningly, he said, “You–you wouldn’t make half as good a host for one of those things as you do for Krang…”

His host’s grin widened, and he said, teasingly, “Aww, you think I’m a good host?”

Krang’s thought process skipped a beat as realization clipped him, but before he could address it or even consider it too deeply, his host asked, “What makes you think I wouldn’t be the phenomenal-amazing-perfect host I am for you to that little guy? Apart from, y’know, the fact that I’d be kinda sorta—” he gestured at the screen (he’d paused it on the rest of the cast’s stunned and terrified faces so the two of them could get over their laughing fit without missing anything), “—really really dead by the time he came out?”

Krang rolled his eyes, snorting. “You would very likely not be dead, which is why you’d probably make a terrible host for the thing.” He reached down to knock sardonically on the front of his host’s shell. “Nothing is getting through this – poor stupid thing would probably concuss itself to death trying to get out.”

He started snickering again, the mental image that had caused the episode in the first place returning to him. “You make a big dramatic scene during your dinner, screaming and flailing and having a whole episode, then all anyone hears is a dull THUNK and you’re just. ‘I seem to have overreacted. Someone pass the pop-tarts please.’”

His host snorted back. “‘Poptarts’?”

“Whatever! Pass the dinner-food, you know what I meant!”

Another small cascade of laughter, and then his host said, “What if the little guy didn’t die? Like we’re going about our business, talking to somebody, and then all of a sudden everyone just hears a tiny voice yelling ‘lemme out!!’”

Krang shuddered a little. Speaking as someone presently stuck to another person, there was something particularly nightmarish about the idea. Although, in this instance, the dismay he felt was somehow enjoyable? In a way? Was that part coming from his host, or was it more common than he was aware of for there to be something delightful about a certain kind of horror? Was this the sort of thing the humans had built the holiday around?

His host eventually hit play on the film again after they’d finished discussing how the proposed scenario could continue to play out. Somehow, for whatever reason, over the course of it his host had named his nonexistent chest-dweller “Gunther.” Which then culminated in him crying “Gunther, noo!!” when the creature who’d originally nyoom’d away got blasted from an airlock at the end of the film. Caught off guard, Krang burst out cackling again.

(Something about ‘Gunther’s’ fully-grown form seemed familiar, though. Achingly so. He said as much to his host, who – after pausing and squinting at the creature for a moment – agreed. Neither could put to words what exactly was familiar, unfortunately. Undoubtedly, this would be something Krang would end up pondering later on. How annoying.)

The rest of the evening passed with much more of the same: An assortment of other “horror” films, nonsensical discussions, and yet more candy. The smattering of wrappers on the floor beside the bed slowly grew to a full-fledged pile. At some point, his host took his discarded “space helmet” and put it on Krang. Ostensibly, so he “wouldn’t feel left out.” (Mmhm. Sure). Krang never bothered to remove it, mostly because the amusement it produced within his host was agreeable enough so as to make the situation tolerable.

Besides, unlike his host, it was a simple task for him to slip his tentacle up under the helmet’s rim, so it didn’t hinder his ability to consume Twix. So he wasn’t particularly bothered.  

---

Week 12, Friday

“Any special reason you picked Run of the Mill for tonight’s ’za?” Leo asked, taking hold of a lamppost as he walked with one hand. He let his weight fall forward, still holding on, so that he swung around the post. He came to a stop in front of April, who he’d been walking beside. “I’m not complaining or anything – never gonna be able to accuse me of being picky as far as pizza goes – it’s just last I checked, your preferences ran a little more towards, say, Bro’s Pizza?”

As April rolled her eyes good-naturedly and gave him a gentle push to get him out of her way, he amended, “Or at least, quote, ‘anywhere that doesn’t serve anything that talks to you’? Cryin shame you feel like that, by the way – the Super Creepy Supreme is actually delicious once you get used to all the wriggling—”

“Still a hard pass,” April interrupted, giving a little shudder as she walked past him. “From now until forever, if you’re wondering.”

Leo trotted to catch up. “So again: What inspired you to pick Run of the Mill SPECIFICALLY if you’re not heeding the call of their specialty pizzas? Especially considering they don’t deliver to the human-side of the tracks?”

April pursed her lips just slightly, likely thinking over how to respond. “I’m kinda hoping to run into Exploding Frankie, actually…”

Leo’s face fell in surprise, connecting the dots he’d been provided. “You still haven’t been able to talk to Sunita?”

“Who are these people??” hissed a voice from Leo’s shellpack, only just loud enough for him to hear.

Or at least, only just loud enough for him to understand. Based on April’s expression, she’d heard something, she just couldn’t definitively say what. Either way, Leo was a little surprised his parasite had said anything. He hadn’t thought Uno had been bothering to listen here…

“One second!” he said back in an undertone.

Him and April rounded the corner past the laundromat, coming to stand in front of a heavily graffitied brick wall. Leo made the necessary gesture to open said wall, and a portal swirled to life. A quick hop through, and suddenly there were yokai of every shape and size, wall-to-wall.

A little off to the side of its entrance, Run of the Mill had a counter where you could place to-go orders. Leo headed that direction, tapping his brooch and letting his natural colors (varying shades of Turtle) shine through again. He placed the order he and his brothers usually got when they ate here (sans ‘anything with toppings that could talk,’ per request), then moved aside to sit and wait for their order.

And also, to finish the conversation he’d started.

“Coast is clear, Dubble-Bubble!” he called, falling into a seat alongside the wall next to April. “Come on out! Lot easier to have a talk face-to-face.”

There was the tiniest pause before Uno complied and crawled out. If Leo had to guess, he’d been taken off-guard by getting told he could show himself despite obviously still being out in public. Luckily, he wasn’t the type to hesitate for long.

His expression was a blend of intrigue and befuddlement as he looked around the room – hardly anyone looked back, and those who did weren’t especially fussed. Hooray for unusually uninteresting sights amongst yokai! Leo felt weirdly compelled to smile as he watched Krang look around (he didn’t, he bit the inside of his cheek).

“These beings aren’t… human,” Krang finally said slowly.

“Nope,” said Leo. “I told you, remember? This joint is run by yokai.” He gestured between the two of them. “Weirdos like us, y’know?”

Uno sent him an imperiously pouty look. “Speak for yourself, Pest. You’re the ‘weirdo’ out of the two of us.”

(Not gonna smile, couldn’t make him, still biting his cheek.)

Leo turned to April and said, “M’kay O’Neil, Sunita’s your friend – fill him in.”

Both April and Krang blinked at him, blinked at each other, then looked back to him, surprised.

Refresher time!: So far Krang-a-Rang had done a solid job of getting everyone around them to relax just a little bit just by being around more often. Awesome, sweet – except people were starting to get comfortable enough where they’d talk to him now. And it was becoming more and more clear that Krang really wasn’t good at having people talk to him just because. And when Krang got taken out of his comfort-zone, he got cranky. Cranky enough where, potentially, he might lash out, and undo everything they presently had going for them. Or worse, hurt somebody. And anyway, it wasn’t exactly super fun for Leo for him to be overwhelmed and upset. Best way Leo could think to prevent all that was to get him more acclimated to the experience. Which, in effect, meant having him talk to people more, rather than only going through Leo. Since April was best at “acting normal” in regards to this whole situation, Leo had elected her the person to help him do this.

Any-whoosiers, it got a little exhausting to constantly have to be the middle-man for conversations that were happening in real time. So he was gracefully cutting himself out of that position, and making the sides he’d previously been wedged in between do their own talking.

Either realizing she wasn’t going to get any further help here (sorry April!), or just by virtue of being the go-getter she naturally was, April opened her mouth to explain—

—then stopped short, squinting at Krang suspiciously. “What?”

He gave her an irritated, questioning look back, giving a small gesture to match. “I’ve said nothing.”

“No, you just look like someone told you to go drink bleach—”

“I promise you, I do not,” Krang said, and Leo felt the same sense of “oh Jesus nEVER again” that Krang probably just got. “If I felt you had implied that I associate with that swill in any capacity, my reaction would not have been containable to a mere look, I assure you.”

“…right, well, poor choice of words,” April conceded. She very sweetly had not laughed when she eventually heard that story, even though Leo could admit that it would’ve been objectively funny if it had happened to anyone other than him. “But you did look annoyed just now.”

“That’s just my face,” Krang huffed, then jerked a tentacle shortly at Leo. “Ask him.”

“Can confirm,” Leo said, nodding. “The RBF is strong with this one, don’t take it personal.”

“It was more than usual!” April insisted. Then, pointedly, “There a reason you don’t wanna talk to me, exactly?”

“You attempting to smash my face in left something of an impression,” Krang snapped. Then, realizing what he’d just said and looking pained, he added, “No pun intended.”

April stared at him for a second, percolating, then took a slow breath in and out. “Right, well… I’m— I’m sorry about that.” She gestured at Leo. “It was defensive, alright? I was worried.”

Krang gave her a look through narrowed eyes, and didn’t immediately respond. Ugh, of course he was gonna be a little grudge-monkey about this…

“C’mon Uno, don’t be a petty baby about it,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. “’Specially since we both know that if the scripts were flipped, you woulda been taking swings at any of us like no one’s business.” He gave him a gentle poke noo he didn’t intentionally aim for his gills, why would he do that? and said, “She said sorry.”

Leo was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed the little shiver Krang gave at that (or at least he hoped; he’d never hear the end of it from him if anyone else did). He was given a quick, very pointed glare, but then Krang exhaled, and gave a permissive sort of wave of his tentacle.

Leo took that to mean all was forgiven. Or at least, no further grumblings were to be had over this, at least for now. Either way, worked for him!

Smiling, he turned back to April and prompted, “Sunita…?”

“…right,” she said slowly. “Sunita’s my, uh… friend, like Leo said.”

“…yes,” Krang replied woodenly. “I gathered that.”

“She’sss a yokai – a, um, googlyschmootz, specifically. And we met at my high school—”

“Is your initial meeting-place relevant, somehow?”

“Sure it is,” Leo cut in. “It means they go way back. Which makes the fact that they haven’t seen each other in forever super weird.”

(What? He never said he was gonna stay out of the conversation completely. Just because he didn’t want to act as the string between the two cans in this game of telephone didn’t mean he didn’t wanna talk period.)

“We’ve been in contact!” April said quickly. “I mean, we still text and call each other and everything. Pretty regularly! It’s just…” She faltered, rubbing the back of her neck. “We haven’t actually seen each other face-to-face in… a while…”

Leo tilted his head. “Mmhm… ‘a while’ beiiiing how long, exactly?”

“…since graduation, pretty much?” A cough. “High school graduation?”

Whoa wait hold the phone—

“You haven’t seen Sunita since high school graduation—?”

“What is the significance of that?” Krang interjected, glancing between them. “How long ago was ‘high school graduation—’? What even is ‘high school’??”

“It’s where humans go to learn stuff,” Leo supplied. “And April and Sunita graduated about four-ish years ago.”

“Oh.” Then, “You haven’t physically seen your ally— FRIEND, whatever, don’t start with me Pest – in four years?!”

“It didn’t seem like it’d been that long until recently!” April defended. “We graduated, she had stuff she had to take care of in the Hidden City, I had college, it’s not that weird to drift a little after you leave school—!”

“You never drifted from us,” Leo pointed out, kind of quietly.

“…yeah, well, that’s a special circumstance,” April said, her indignation deflating slightly as she bumped her shoulder against his. (It was the one Krang was sitting on, which made him pull a face.) “It’s… different, for other friends you make when you’re a kid.” She paused, suddenly looking unsure. “…I hear, anyway… Outside of you guys and Casey I guess Sunita was kinda the only other friend I really had— aw man, that’s super depressing, isn’t it?”

“All those kids slogging around Washington Irving High School, and not a single one of ’em had any taste,” said Leo, shrugging. “Go figure.”

April smiled, bumping his shoulder again. (Krang briefly ducked back into Leo’s shell, before reappearing on his other shoulder, looking affronted. Drama-queen.)

She went on, “Anyway, again, me and Sunita call and text a lot. It never felt like we’d gone so long without seeing each other in person.” She pursed her lips again, this time looking somewhere between contemplative and frustrated. “But then when I did realize and pointed it out, she sorta just half-acknowledged it and changed the subject. And then whenever I suggest we meet up, she says she’s ‘busy.’”

A half-sigh, half-huff. “I wanted to see if I could catch Exploding Frankie to ask if she’s okay. Doesn’t seem like she’s gonna tell me anytime soon—”

“Right, about that,” Krang interrupted again, “who precisely is ‘exploding Frankie’?”

“—? Oh, it’s her dad.”

Krang looked like he expected her to say more, and was annoyed when she didn’t. “And does he actually—?”

“Okay birthday girl!” cut in a voice a few tables over.

“Perfect timing,” Leo said, smiling and turning to look (Krang turned to look with him; April was pressing as far into the wall behind them as she could get).

“Get ready to P-A-A-A-A-R-TAY!!”

KA-SPLAT. Green slime everywhere. It was the bit that always delivered!

Krang sat frozen on his shoulder, rigid in shock and discomfort. Leo was delighted beyond words to realize he hadn’t seen him look this horrified since they’d first met Swizzle-Dick.

“…that was ‘Frankie,’ I take it?” he finally asked stiffly, face splattered in green.

“What gave it away?” Leo asked, grinning. And also covered in slime. So was April, though she seemed less amused by the whole bit.

Poor Uno didn’t seem to know what to do with himself. “Is he… dead now, or—?”

He made a little sound of alarm as the slime suddenly began sloughing off them, slipping and sliding along the floor until it all recombined into a full Frankie a ways away. Cheers from the surrounding patrons erupted at his wide-armed showman-stance once he finished.

Uno made another – slightly louder – sound of confused disgust. And then, to Leo’s further delight, did a little maneuver that was pretty much universally used to convey ‘ewewew GROSS.’

“Dude, I refuse to believe that with how stabby-stabby-smashy you are, you’ve never gotten other folks’ blood and guts and stuff all over you,” Leo pointed out, laughing a little. (At Uno’s reaction! The blood and guts part was horrifying!) “You’re seriously gonna waste energy being grossed out by this?”

“‘This’ is… different!” Krang insisted. He’d slunk back into Leo’s shell a little bit, presumably in case Frankie popped again.

“I’ll pay you actual cash-money to tell me how,” Leo shot back, still smiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw April wearing a small (if sort of confused) smile too.

Krang was quiet for a second, obviously scrambling for words. When he apparently couldn’t come up with any, he demanded, “Are you genuinely telling me that you don’t find it even mildly distressing that you were just—?!”

He stopped dead suddenly. Leo felt he had a good guess as to why.

“Say it,” he said, grin getting even bigger.

“…no thank you,” Krang said, sinking further into Leo’s shell.

“Nonono c’mon – I’m curious. Say it.”

“Say what?” April asked.

Krang didn’t speak for a second. Then, voice a little muffled by shell from how low he’d sunk, he mumbled, irritation clear, “Don’t you find it distressing that you were just splattered with another person’s everything, essentially—?”

“Nooo~!” Leo sang, having the time of his life. “I’ve had another person growing off me for MONTHS! I’m used to it~!”

Krang breathed out a sigh like he was in pain, and April snorted and gave Leo a light shove. Then, glancing over, she said, “Oh. Hold on, it looks like Frankie’s taking a break from the party. I’m gonna go see if I can talk to him for a sec? Holler for me if the food comes out!”

As Leo nodded her off, Krang called after her, “Perhaps mention it’d behoove him to not drench the unsuspecting with himself during your conversation!”

Sort of. He said it louder than normal, but not exactly loud enough as to actually be heard by April. Not already halfway across the room as she was, anyway. It made Leo wonder if Krang was even sure if he wanted to be heard or not. There was a definite lack of commitment going both ways, whatever he was trying to achieve.

Weird.

Oh well, not much to do now but wait for food and people-watch…

Run of the Mill was the same as it ever was, which Leo found vaguely comforting. Whatever else was going on, it was kinda nice that certain things could be counted on to stay pleasantly constant. He should compliment Señor Hueso for his consistency one of these days. Not as many people as Leo usually saw when he came in, though – kinda weird for a Friday, but oh well.

A waiter (some sort of fly yokai) fluttered past somewhere to his left, drawing Leo’s lazy attention that direction. Hey! Speak of the devil! There was the bone-man now!

…looking a little harried, actually! Weird… normally he only pulled that face after realizing Leo and/or his brothers were in the building, and Leo was pretty sure he didn’t know he was there yet. He was giving what looked like (very blunt) instructions to another member of the waitstaff, apparently none the wiser that one of his favorite turtles was in the house.

…welp! Couldn’t fix that sitting all the way over here!

Leo pushed himself up from where he sat, waving his arm and calling, “Señor Hueso!! Hey! Over here!”

Hueso jumped a little at the sound of his voice, and looked around quickly to find the source. They made eye-contact (or, y’know, eye-to-socket contact). He slumped and stared up at the ceiling, Leo thought he heard him mutter “dios, aquí vamos de nuevo,” and then he straightened again.

As Leo got closer, he said, “Greetings, Pepino. It has… been a while…”

He’d noticed Krang sitting on Leo’s shoulder. Krang was staring back in the most pointedly haughty way possible.

Leo didn’t have the energy to do a whole lore-drop for something he hadn’t officially been asked about. So rather than go into the whole thing, he just said, “Eh, y’know how it gets sometimes – life and stuff, amirite?” He gestured at Krang. “This is Uno, say ‘hola.’”

Leo didn’t wait to see if Hueso would do as suggested and actually said hi – he was already moving on (that was the trick when it came to sidestepping things you didn’t feel like blabbing about, just keep things moving!): “But anyway, anyway, yeah, been a minute! What’s up with you? Don’t mean to pry or anything, but you seem a li’l put out?” He tilted his head a little. “Why the long skull, Bone-Man? What’s up?”

Hueso glanced between Leo and Krang for another second, but – like Leo had expected – didn’t push for details. People usually didn’t once they were given an opening to talk about something that was bothering them.

Instead, he sighed. “It’s The Maze of Death, Pepino, it’s not here anymore. Didn’t you notice?”

“Uh – no??” Leo said, boggling, because he really hadn’t. Glancing over, he saw the big “PROVE YOU’RE A CHAMPION” sign had been taken down from over the big, ominous archway where it had previously been stationed. And, looking through the big, ominous archway – which wasn’t looking quite so ominous anymore – he saw the Wall of Champions was now completely clean of the pictures that had once covered it. (So much for consistency…)

“When’d that happen?”

“A few weeks ago,” Hueso said, sounding tired and frustrated and a little defeated all at once. “The Minotaur wanted to retire, and when she left she took her maze – and her ‘World’s Greatest Pizza’ – with her.”

Leo was about to ask how in the heck she’d managed to pack up a whole-ass death maze – no way that counted as a carry-on, wherever she ended up going after this – when Hueso continued, “The maze was a way for Run of the Mill to distinguish itself amongst the competition. Without it, business has been much… slower.”

…well that would explain why it was so quiet in here tonight. Eugh boy…

“Well shucks,” Leo finally said, mostly because he was unsure what else to say, “that’s… rough, Señor. I’m sorry…”

He was about to ask if there was anything he could do to help – though what he could do he was also unsure of, oh yeah no problem, let him just whip out his massive death-maze from his back pocket, you could borrow it! – when he heard a voice back by the counter:

“Order for—” a sigh, “—for Neon Leon?”

“Crap, that’s me, Señor—”

“Really? I never would have guessed.”

“—I gotta grab April and get that before it gets too cold. Sorry to hear about the maze and everything! Um. Bye!”

“The maze of what now?” Krang asked quietly as they walked away. He actually sounded interested, which was both a little surprising and actually made a lot of sense.

“Death,” Leo supplied. “If you could survive all the way to the middle without using any mystic powers, you got some of the ‘world’s greatest ’za’ and your picture on the Wall of Champions.”

Krang didn’t say anything for a second. “…what sort of challenges were participants meant to survive to get to the middle, precisely?”

“Uhh… y’know, spikey walls closing in on you, people trying to kill you, fire. Standard stuff, I guess?”

“…that sounds reminiscent of the Gauntlet Games,” Krang said. Then, before Leo could ask for clarification on what that was, he said, “And it’s gone?”

Aww, he sounded genuinely disappointed…

Leo, who was most definitely not feeling weirdly endeared, don’t be ridiculous, but who was distracted with grabbing the food right at that moment, said, “Apparently. Figures that it’d go bye-bye right as you get here, you probably would’ve crushed it—”

He abruptly realized what he’d said, but was saved from thinking on it too deep by Krang downright preening at his words.

“Undoubtedly,” he scoffed, predictably sounding lofty as all get-out. “As if there was even a moment’s question of that.”

Then, as Leo took a quick second to roll his eyes, he asked, “How many times did you complete it?”

“April!!” Leo called. “Food’s ready! Let’s go!”

---

Week 13, Tuesday

He was in his room. The TV droned softly, playing… something. His attention was fading in and out, and he couldn’t fully remember what had been put on. He thought he recognized JJ, but he didn’t know what movie it was specifically. More to it, he couldn’t be bothered to try to parse it out at this point, either. He was that rare sort of content where focusing on anything besides how content he felt seemed like an impossible task.

His brother was snoring quietly beside him, though good luck ever trying to convince him that was something he did. His sister pressed into his other side, silent in her sleep but leaning into him a bit more heavily than their brother.

They were beside him, uninjured and whole. The danger had passed, and would never touch any of them again. Had it ever, truly? It felt so far away now, if it had. Maybe it hadn’t even been real to begin with.

And there was just… relief.

Leo’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t sure why.

He was still in his room. The TV was off. There was no one beside him. The night was dark and quiet as it ever was.

His parasite, who’d previously been sleeping in the crook of his neck, had scrambled to get upright, jostling him in the process.

Krang didn’t say anything. He was looking around the room rapidly. It was like when someone dropped or misplaced something, but it had been right there, they’d literally had it just a second ago, where was it, where could it have gone—?

Leo felt disoriented. Maybe Krang did too. He definitely looked… lost.

“Cuddlelumps…?” he called gently. He was ignored.

“Horchata?” he tried again, rolling onto his back. Seemingly out of spite, Krang still didn’t respond, looking more and more desperately around the room.

What did Leo do in this situation? Why did he feel increasingly sick?

“Uno, there’s no one here—”

Krang snarled suddenly, and a tentacle snapped against Leo’s temple, hard, leaving stinging pain in its wake. Krang disappeared back into Leo’s shell before he could react beyond an exclamation of pain.

Leo was left lying in the dark, quiet room by himself.

This was… that hadn’t been his dream. Obviously. Except, in the dream, it’d felt like—

Like how Leo felt when he was with his family. Like how he’d felt to reunite with everyone after the invasion.

That had to be something to do with his and Krang’s wires getting crossed, right? Krang had made it super clear right off the bat that, as a group, the Krang didn’t care about stuff like that. Krang brought the setting/subject matter, Leo had brought the emotions. Krang didn’t know what to do with that, and had woken up confused.

And then he lashed out. That was… normal, expected even, when he was dealing with anything he didn’t like. But it made sense in this situation, didn’t it? Even moreso since it was so normal for him. Like, if he could just act like things were normal and that he wasn’t feeling… fuck, if he wasn’t feeling, then it meant everything was fine, or at least would be eventually—

…fffffffff— was being snarly Krang’s version of being hilarious? This whole time, had he just been—?

Leo pressed his hands to his face, and tried not to start yelling. Because um, Universe? Could you hear him from down here? If you could, please excuse his tone, but: You have got. To be fuckin kidding him.

He laid there another second, mind whirring, then slowly put his hands down. He felt like he should be angry, even though if anyone had asked he probably wouldn’t have been able to explain why.

Krang hadn’t cared! Back before, literally one of the first things he’d learned when he’d popped out of Leo’s shell was that his brother was dead, and he hadn’t even cared! So why now was he acting like—?

—Krang had learned his brother was dead, while surrounded by the people who’d basically killed him.

How would Leo have responded to that?

Trick question. He wouldn’t have. He would’ve avoided thinking about it until he couldn’t anymore. And then— and then…

Uno woke up looking for them.

It felt like Leo had a rock in his gut. He almost wished he would throw up, just because it’d be a chance to purge the feeling along with whatever else was in his stomach.

He felt like he should say something.

Silence stretched. Eventually, he rolled back over to stare at the far wall.

What was there to say?

---

Week 13, Wednesday

[dreams]

A dream is a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that usually occur involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. Humans spend about two hours dreaming per night, and each dream lasts around 5–20 minutes, although

. . .

[causes for dreams]

There are several theories about why we dream. Possible explanations include:

• interpreting random signals from the brain and body during sleep
• consolidating and processing information gathered during the day
• representing unconscious desires and

. . .

[how to prevent  ]

“—hey Cuddlelumps?”

Krang didn’t look up from the phone. The tentacle that held it twined around it a little tighter, obstructing the screen. “Yes.”

A pause. “I just… I mean, y’know— if–if you— I was thinking—”

“I don’t feel like conversing at the moment, Pest,” Krang said tonelessly. “Don’t bother me.”

“I—” Another pause. Silence.

. . .

“…you, um… want anything to eat, maybe?”

“…no. Not now.”

It felt like his host wanted to say more.

He didn’t.

Notes:

I really love the Alien franchise, which – in case it wasn’t glaringly obvious – served as some inspiration for elements of this fic. Seemed only fitting that I reference it outright, especially since a. The fic is set in a universe that allows me to do so with relative ease, and b. I’m pretty sure the Rise character designers based Uno’s mechsuit at least in part on a xenomorph (and then bonus, early drafts for Casey Jr. are very clear references to the yautja).

Another thing I feel I should mention: Originally, this chapter was intended to have a much fluffier ending. I had a whole extra section planned out. But then as I was working on it, I realized “wait, wouldn’t it make more sense to have this happen at the end of the next chapter?” So it got bumped back, and we end off on this depressing as fuck note instead. Sorry about that!

Just as well, I guess – after a couple more chapters of sillieness we’ve got a lot of pain on the docket. So really, it’s best to start building tolerance for that now, I feel.

Chapter 22: Adjusting Angles, Shifting Stances

“So get this: The roommate definitely saw something.”

Everyone was sat/stood around the kitchen island again. Fitting, kinda, considering that the decision to start looking into the Spine-Breaking Bandit was made in this very spot. Now here they were, back again, getting updates on that same thing.

April stood at the front, addressing the group: “None of the past victims I got in contact with wanted to talk about their experience much, if they even responded to me at all. Most of them just ghosted me. Except for the roommate, the one who’d been in the apartment during one of the attacks: Carlton Fripp, friends call him ‘Kanada.’ Don’t ask, because I didn’t and can’t tell you. See, he told the police he didn’t see anything, which is. Kinda true? But he’s also worried it’s not?”

Everyone glanced around at each other for a second, trying to find someone who could explain the logic. When none could be found, Leo looked back to April and said, “M’sorry, how’s that work now?”

“He was higher than a goddamned kite at the time of the crime,” April explained, “so he’s not really sure what he saw.”

“High on what, exactly?” Uno asked suddenly. Everyone looked at him a little surprised – he didn’t usually interject during group discussions without being prompted first.

“Uh… LSD,” April said.

Leo was taken a bit off-guard by the scowl that scrunched up his own face. Krang huffed, spitting “idiot” under his breath.

April took in a breath, nodding as if to say ‘I know, but what can ya do?’

“He told the police that the Spine-Breaker was gone before he’d even gotten into the room to see why his roommate – Tim Schuss – was screaming,” she went on, “but, like I said, he thinks he actually might’ve seen something. He didn’t say anything to the police because he was scared that if he told them the truth, it would sound like he was on drugs. And he was on drugs, which could’ve gotten him into trouble, whatever else happened. If what he’d seen was even real to begin with.”

“They’d have caught this idiot by now if people would just tell the ones investigating things what they actually saw,” Krang grumbled. Leo nodded, feeling a little exasperated. All the love to Kimmy, but crying out loud, people…

“So what did he see?” Mikey asked, frowning in confusion.

“According to him, he saw the PS5 – the only thing that was taken besides a class ring of Tim’s – getting carried away by a bigger PS5. At first. He said once it got to the door, it turned into, ahem: ‘a catlulu-mind-flayer-looking thing.’”

April sighed suddenly, looking tired. “Probably should take this moment to say I fully and completely acknowledge this guy ain’t exactly what you’d call a ‘reliable witness.’ I think he was high even as he was talking to me – just on weed this time, at least far as I could tell, but he was kinda…” she made a little gesture here that indicated extreme spacey-ness. “He got distracted at this point asking if I played DnD, and then went on a whole tangent recommending me all the podcasts he listens to. Also added he wished the PS5 had turned into a ‘hot elf’ instead of a mind-flayer.”

Raph, who was leaning over the island, tilted his head. “So like… maybe Raph’s wasting his time trying to figure out how the mind of someone who’s drugged-out works, but why not tell the police he saw a guy, just plain-old regular, and just leave out the hallucination-y bits?”

“Because if he said he saw the guy, like at all, the cops would want to know what he looked like,” Leo said. “And then when the best description he could give them was a PS5, he would end up looking mighty suspicious himself.”

He thought a second, then conceded, “At least until/if he owned up to being on something, which… even though I don’t think the police would care too much about drugs if it meant they could catch the SBB—”

“They wouldn’t,” Mikey agreed. “They’d probably be willing to look the other way in exchange for whatever info he could give them.”

“—right, exactly, so he could’ve said something, but I don’t know how much help it would be here? I mean, it’s not like the guy shouted his own name on the way out. A PS5-mindflayer isn’t exactly going to be a heck of a lot of help with narrowing down suspects.”

“Actually,” April said, catching all of their attention, “I’m kinda on Ralph’s side. He couldn’t have described the guy’s face, but he could’ve mentioned to the police where he’d seen the guy go.”

“You might’ve opened with that,” Krang said, giving April a look that was both boggled and mildly disapproving.

“I got a whole story, I’m gonna give a whole story!” April said indignantly (fair enough – this was her thing they were talking about here. Journalism and all). “I was building up to the exciting bit!”

“So where did he go?” Mikey asked, leaning forward in his seat, eyes wide. (Uno muttered “ridiculous” from Leo’s shoulder.)

April mimicked him, leaning in herself. “Straight into the apartment down the hall from Tim’s. He didn’t even know anybody lived there at the time. Supposedly, that particular apartment is haunted. No one ever stays in it for long.”

Everyone was, predictably, gobstopped at these revelations.

“He might’ve seen the Bandit go into the apartment down the hall, and he didn’t mention it to the police?” Donnie asked, looking disbelieving and frustrated.

“Do you think the Spine-Breaker is a ghost?!” Mikey demanded, looking well and truly freaked out. “Is that why no one ever sees him come or go after attacks, and why he never leaves fingerprints??”

Leo opted to ignore Mikey’s outburst (whatever the explanation for the SBB being able to evade capture, it was definitely much simpler and more grounded than “ghosts”), and instead asked, “Is the apartment you’re talking about here is in the same general area as where we last heard the Bandit got dropped off at? Have we clocked him finally? Because if not, I think I’m confused.”

April shifted a little. “No, it’s in a different area than where the cab dropped him off before. I don’t know what it means, but right now this is the best lead we got.”

Well. Hard to argue that point…

“So are we all gearin’ up and heading out, or was this just an update before you go do some reconnaissance on your own like last time?” Leo asked.

“All together, or at least me and you,” April said, making Leo’s brows raise.

“Me?”

“I’m gonna need a portal to get into the building this time. Carlton told me the apartment number he thinks he saw the Bandit run into, so it makes more sense to just go in and investigate rather than wait around to ask questions or try to be lowkey.”

Leo nodded. Then, grinning, he said, “Good thing I already grabbed these bad boys then, huh?” and jerked his thumb at his swords, already strapped to his shell.

“Give the rest of us just a minute to grab all our stuff,” Raph said, pushing up from the island. “Be right back.”

He, Mikey, and Donnie trailed out of the kitchen, leaving Leo alone with April.

And Krang, too. Couldn’t forget him.

Krang had been… off, since that dream they’d had a couple nights ago. Not that Leo was worried, exactly— …well. Except maybe he was. Krang had been acting his tentacles off to cover things up – there’d even been an uptick in how often he’d actually talk with the rest of the fam. Not by a lot, but then he’d never exactly been a social butterfly to start with.

Nonetheless, it was still obvious – to Leo, at least – that he was still bothered by things. Just like with the night it had happened, though (and the day after, but who was counting?), Leo had absitively-posolutely zero idea how to ask him about it. Not in a way where he wouldn’t immediately brush him off, anyhow.

This whole thing was reeeally throwing off Leo’s whole “be nice to throw him off, but don’t actually start to like or trust him, or really be genuine in your ‘niceness’ at all” –plan, just for the record.

Because listen: When this whole thing had started, not trusting Krang had been a given. Kinda still was, honestly. And liking the guy had been next to impossible. Except then they started talking, and doing things together, and Krang was actually really, really good at making Leo feel like less of a fuck-up. And as much as Leo wanted to claim nonchalance on the last point, he was agonizingly aware that he hoovered that shit up every time. The fact that Uno had seemingly been faking it whenever he approached anything resembling human emotion had been the last thread Leo had left to hang off of before he dropped directly down into “he’s not totally bad, actually.” Because obviously, if he were even capable of human emotion, he’d have felt it towards losing the only people he was unquestionably close to, right?

Except now that thread had snapped. Now Leo was feeling compelled to be nice to him just for its own sake. Just for Uno’s sake. Because Uno had felt all of that towards the people who were closest to him. And he was probably feeling really shitty and unsure about his present situation, and what exactly he was going to do about things after. And all this was coming on the heels of a three-year stint in solitary confinement, in probably the most piss-your-pants-upsetting prison ever made.

Where did that leave Leo, exactly?

“Okay!” Raph called, suddenly re-entering the kitchen, tucking his sais into the belt his cloaking brooch gave him. “I’m set. Everybody else?”

Leo watched him adjust his patch into a more comfortable position over his eye.

…this all left Leo in exactly the same place he’d been in before. It didn’t change anything, not really. It didn’t matter whether Krang was an unfeeling monster who didn’t care about anything besides enslaving people, or a guy who loved his siblings and felt lost and alone. The “wants to enslave people” part was still very present in both scenarios. Being sad didn’t negate any of the bad stuff he did.

…but…

He could still try to check in and see if he was okay, if he could. For consistency’s sake. He’d been cultivating a rapport here, might as well keep that going strong since it was working. And just because Krang was an enslaving-asshole didn’t mean Leo had to be rotten too…

Anyway, it was good karma. Leo could always use more of that!

Turning to April, Leo tapped his own brooch (yep, he’d grabbed that too – April texted “family meeting” and he guessed which way the winds were blowing), and asked, “Where we headed, April?”

“The old building on 24.”

“Got it. Ready, mis hermanos?”

Group nod. Uno tucked back into his shellpack.

“Let’s go!”

Swish. PORTAL.

It was the same sort of deal here as it was with Gemini’s (the details of which Leo still hadn’t fully revealed to anybody, so shh). Leo had never actually been inside this place, and only had a vague idea of where he was portalling. When everyone exited the first portal, it was outside of the building. The second portal Leo made let out a couple feet or so beyond where he’d opened it, which basically just served as a means to bypass a wall. Once they were inside the building, April led the way up. She gestured at the door they were looking for as they came up on it.

Leo was about to repeat the process that had gotten them into the building, right on the cusp of drawing his swords again. It was at that moment that he (and everyone else, for that matter) suddenly received a very blunt reminder: Even though they were all caught up in the bandit-chasing excitement, the apartment they were about to break into was, in fact, still very capable of being occupied.

The door opened, and a girl of about twelve or so stepped out. She stopped dead when she noticed the group of strangers hovering just outside her door.

“Um,” she blurted, jumping a little. She held the door halfway open behind her – she’d been in the process of shutting it when she’d caught sight of them. Now she looked like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to pull it the rest of the way closed or dart back inside.

“Hi!” Leo said, smiling and taking point. “Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out – we were looking for someone, and we were told he lived in this apartment? We heard he was selling his old PS5 and wanted to ask him about it, but we’ve been having issues pinning down where he’s at. Is this the right place maybe, orr…?”

This whole thing was, of course, very sketch all the way around. Depending on what questions she might ask next, the whole story could crumble like a house of cards. Still, it was the best Leo could come up with on the spot, so it would have to do.

The girl relaxed, apparently buying that the group hovering outside her door was just there by an innocent mistake, and not something she should be worried by. “It’s just me and my mom here – we moved in a couple weeks ago. And we don’t have a PS5.”

Mikey’s brow furrowed. “You really shouldn’t go around telling strangers you and your mom live alone—”

Leo knocked his heel into Mikey’s shin at the same time Raph plapped his whole hand over Mikey’s head, covering most of his face. He was right, yeah, but maybe giving this girl a “stranger-danger” talk wasn’t the best idea when they were the strangers.

The girl didn’t notice (thank God). Instead she went on, huffing and looking discomforted, “I wish we hadn’t moved in… this place gives me the creeps.”

“What kind of ‘creeps’?” Mikey asked, voice muffled by Raph’s hand.

She shrugged listlessly, finally pulling the door closed behind her. “I dunno. Just feels like everything about the apartment is screaming at us to leave all the time. I’m going up to the roof just to get out of it for a while. I can’t say anything to my mom about it, because then she’ll do the whole thing about ‘Jenny this is the best we could afford since Dad left,’ and I can’t listen to it anymore.”

…woof. So apparently this poor gal was going through it and didn’t have anyone else to talk to. That was a lot of info to dump on a group of random strangers…

Finishing, she said, “Everyone I’ve talked to in the building says this apartment is haunted, though. The people who lived here before us didn’t even last a year…”

…hm. The Bandit-Case that Carl “Canada” Rip (or whatever April had said his name was) had taken place two years ago. So there wasn’t much – if any – possibility that the last people who’d lived here had had anything to do with the Bandit. Any evidence that might’ve been in there would probably be long gone by now.

“Welp in that case, we probably better vamoose!” Leo said, glancing around the group and silently checking for conflicting opinions. He didn’t find any. “Thanks so much for your help! Sorry to bother you!”

And they skedaddled.

“Chalk up another dead end,” April groaned once they were all back outside.

“Do you think he was squatting in the empty apartment when he attacked the guy?” Raph asked, chin balanced on his fist as they walked, contemplative. “Like… an easy-access scenario? Or d’you think he was just trying to duck out of sight and got lucky that the door wasn’t locked?”

“Or he was actually living there,” Leo put in, “and Mr. LSD just didn’t notice. Then when he thought he might have a witness on his hands, he just jumped ship and moved into the new apartment building we got a beat on him at.”

“I’m really starting to think he’s a vengeful spirit,” Mikey insisted. “Everything lines up!”

“It does not line up, because ghosts aren’t real,” Leo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Then how do you explain multiple people thinking that apartment had bad mojo?” Mikey demanded. “That can’t be a coincidence!”

“Could be anything from a bad paint job to poor lighting to small bedrooms,” Leo said dismissively. “You’d be surprised how much a spot’s feng shui can skeeve people out if it’s crappy.”

“I concur, Miguel,” Donnie said (Mikey pouted at them both).

As they all turned the corner to take a shortcut down an alley, Donnie went on, “There’s no conclusive evidence for ghosts generally, much less in this specific scenario.” Chest puffing, he added, “It would seem as though it is still up to me and me alone to unravel this mystery, with the power of technology—!”

“Unless you’ve suddenly learned how to add pixels to things, I find that unlikely,” Uno snarked from Leo’s shellpack.

Donnie gaped in offense, and Leo almost felt bad for sniggering in surprise. He was a little worried that laughing right now would only bum April out more, but then to his surprise/relief she gave a tiny snort of laughter too, albeit a very subdued one.

(He didn’t feel bad for laughing at Donnie. Uno hadn’t insulted his skills, or anything – heck, Donnie had been the one to say he couldn’t add pixels, and that that was what had made the whole process of making the footage visible difficult. That was a deserved zing.)

Mikey looked down at the ground as he walked, still pouting, then his face went slack. “Hey, is that a—?”

SHNAP.

Metal bars suddenly snapped down in front of, behind, and above them, literally boxing them in.

“—tripwire…?” Mikey finished weakly.

“Uuuuugh,” Leo groaned, slumping to stare up at the sky (and bars) imploringly. “We really gotta stop taking back-alleys…”

“Congratulations, turtles!” called a voice smoothly from the darkness. Or at least, Leo got the impression that was the intention. Given the time of day and angle of the sun, it wasn’t actually dark enough for the voice to come “from the darkness.” Instead, it just came from behind a dumpster.

Which is exactly where Wilbur Pebbles came smugly slithering out from. “You’ve walked right into my trap!”

April gasped.

“Warren Stone!!” she cried, stars in her eyes.

(Yeesh, poor girl was so distraught over the lack of leads in the Spine-Breaker case that she’d forgotten the name of her own idol. Leo tactfully didn’t say anything about it – at least it had cheered her up some.)

Krang – who had presumably peeked out as soon as he heard the cage drop, or at least that was Leo’s guess – now crawled out a bit more to see who/what they were being confronted by.

Evidently, his attempts at visual identification weren’t doing him any favors in that regard.

“Pest?” he asked, staring at Wilbur with palpable confusion. “Wh… what am I looking at, exactly?”

“Worm,” Leo said dully. He didn’t elaborate further.

“I mean I can see that, but—” he looked around. “It’s put you in a cage??”

“That would seem to be the case, yep.”

“It— how— how did it set this up? It’s a foot long if that. How did it know you’d all be coming this way—?”

“Shhh,” Leo hushed gently, patting his tentacles.

“Yes, it is I!” Wilbur exclaimed, gesturing dramatically, apparently none the wiser to Leo and Krang’s conversation. “You all made the grave mistake of letting your guards down, and now you shall face your demise at the hands of your greatest foe—!!”

“—sorry, I’m sorry, you’re what now??”

Uno had crawled out completely now, and was staring fixedly at Wilbur. Wilbur recoiled slightly in surprise as he saw Krang in full for the first time, making an “eueesh” sound as he went. He didn’t start demanding an explanation though – presumably, Hypno had already filled him in on everything after they’d last fought him.

Instead, Wilbur composed himself and recited, “I am Warren Stone! Former-newscasting star and villain-extraordinaire! The greatest and most POWERFUL nemesis of the—!”

“‘Most powerful’?!” Krang demanded, balking. “You?” Then, sneering, “What can you even do?”

“He’s the greatest newscaster to ever live,” April told him seriously.

“I cut him in half once,” Leo said, remembering. “And like… his back half grew back!” His eyes quickly flicked back to Wilbur, checking. “…apparently!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I stepped on him once before too!” Mikey agreed. “And he came back from that, I guess!”

“…and that’s it?” Krang asked. “No notable combat abilities, not even any mystic powers to cheat with? That’s it??”

Nods, which were undercut by a worm sputtering, “No, that is NOT ‘it,’ I am—!”

Krang wasn’t listening. He looked like he was in the process of fighting off an aneurysm. Sneer twisting into an outright snarl, he rounded on Wilbur and gestured at the group at large. “These beings rivalled the Krang, and you have the gall to claim you are anywhere near their level? Let alone that you’re their ‘greatest foe’?!”

“Says the guy who’s growing off one of the losers!” Wilbur snapped. (Which: Leo had done nothing to deserve that, he was literally just standing here.)

“And yet even reduced to this, I still pose more of a threat to them than whatever this farce is,” Uno retorted, gesturing at the bars around them. Slumping down on Leo’s shoulder in a way that was both somehow fed-up and condescending all at once, he bit out, “Which says more about you than it does me, when you think about it…”

Wilbur looked ready to pop. “I will—!!”

SMASH

…for the record: Having their encounter with one villain get interrupted by another villain crunching the front-half of the cage the first villain had put them in with a large mech hadn’t been on Leo’s bingo card for this adventure. And yet, here they were.

Baxter Stockboy was standing on top of the broken bits of the cage. Which, okay, sure, why not, but hadn’t they just fought this kid within the last month or so? Yeah, it had been entirely off-screen, but still—!

(Pebbles was presently trapped under the mech’s right foot. By the sounds of it, he was having a very muffled rage-fest under there.)

Puberty had been a mixed bag for Stockboy. He was… taller, at least, and his puberty-pipes had finally evened out. It’d been a rough time there for a while (for him, hilarious for the rest of them). That said, he seemed to be one of the folks destined to have permanent baby-face – even at sixteen, he didn’t look particularly like he was approaching adulthood. And sadly for him, it wasn’t a case of “he has softer, rounder features, but he’s still good-looking at the end day!” like it was for someone like, say, Mikey. Baxter had the flavor of baby-face that was going to make him look like a tall twelve-year-old up until he started getting wrinkles, and then he was just going to look odd. Like he was permanently using one of those joke-filters.

It was tragic, really – maybe that’s why he was still overcompensating with jumbo robots he could ride around in, and an assortment of Scooby-Doo hoaxes.

“Didn’t we trash that thing?” Leo asked, gesturing at the aforementioned jumbo-robot-suit Stockboy was sitting in. It was humanoid-shaped, with Stockboy’s head sticking out of the top. It just made Stockboy seem bigger.

Before Stockboy could answer (and because it only just occurred to Leo), he asked, “Do you walk it down all the way from your place when you pop in to bother us? I feel like that would raise some eyebrows here or there…”

Stockboy’s expression faltered – he’d actually looked like he was about to start talking himself, which Leo had interrupted with his questions – but then his face set back into place again as he registered what had been said to him.

“You destroyed one of my suits,” he snapped, glaring. “I made sure to make spares!” Then, straightening his mech into a prouder stance, he explained, “And no, I didn’t walk this here from my house! I designed the entire suit to retract into a discrete, easy-to-carry disk, small enough to fit into the average pants or jacket pocket, ready to go whenever I need it!”

“Explains why the last one was so brittle,” Krang grumbled. “I can’t imagine anything of that size that could be compressed to fit in a pocket would be especially sturdy…”

“Agreed,” Donnie muttered, nodding. “Amateur mistake.”

Leo decided to keep his opinions to himself, for once, because clearly Krang and Donnie had it covered. Anyway, other things he could be talking about: Did he think he’d be able to talk Stockboy down from whatever he was planning? Not really, but he lost nothing in trying!

“Listen,” Leo started, “my guy. You build some really amazing gadgets—”

“Not as good as Genius Built™ gadgets,” Donnie added under his breath, “but decently above the norm.”

“—yeah yeah, exactly. My point: Why not just. Sell them, if you wanna make money so bad? There’s gotta be an easier way to do this…”

Baxter spluttered, offended. “I don’t do what I do just for the money, thank you! I have principles! …I also do it for clout!” He harrumphed, crossing the arms of his mech. “Fastest way to get both is to become a viral sensation!”

He sighed suddenly. “Selling my gadgets would make me money, sure, but at the end of the day I’d still just be a little nerd with that as the only thing going for me! Being a tech-wiz won’t get me girlfriends or respect!”

Donnie drew in a deep, shuddering gasp, as though he’d just watched his firstborn get stabbed right in front of him. “Howww DARE you disrespect the craft like that!! You take that back!!”

“It’s the truth!” Stockboy insisted, stomping his mech’s foot a little (some muffled cursing floated up as he did). “I’m head of the robotics team at my school, president of the tech club, and a champion mathlete! Guess who still doesn’t have a date to the winter formal??”

April raised an eyebrow. “Mm, having an entire internet-footprint of clickbait-y can-stacking probably ain’t helping your case.” She scoffed. “Show up for ghosts and you give us robots? I wouldn’t date you either.”

“What’s wrong with robots?!” Donnie demanded, offense (and defense, apparently) still high.

“Nothing! If he’d told us from the beginning that there were gonna be robots, not ghosts! If you set peoples’ expectations up when you know you’re gonna yank the rug out from under ’em, you can’t get mad when they don’t want anything to do with you!”

“I liked where you were going with just the can-stacking!” Mikey added, both earnest and frustrated at once. “You didn’t need all the hoaxes and conspiracy theories!”

“Enough!!” Stockboy shouted. “You’re all missing the point!”

“Which is?” Raph asked.

Stockboy straightened again. “All anyone has been able to talk about on the conspiracy theory subreddits have been ‘the mysterious color-coded creatures who saved New York from aliens.’ For like, years now. Anytime a popular conspiracy vlogger covers the story, their video trends for at least a week.”

Everyone glanced at each other.

“So… what, you want an interview or something?” Leo asked, tilting his head. “I mean… I could be down for that, but you coulda just come over to us and asked nicely. No reason to bust out the pocket-bots or anything—”

“We’ve been over this,” Raph groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Nobody’s doing any post-invasion-interviews!”

“And if you did it better be with me,” April added, crossing her arms and giving them all the Look. “If I find out aaaany of you passed me up for Stockboy, I’m disowning all y’all.”

“I’m not here for an interview!” Stockboy burst. “I’m here for footage!”

A drone with a camera suddenly rose up behind, followed quickly by a second drone, this one carrying a ring-light.

“…that’s smart, actually,” Leo said thoughtfully, staring up at the floating light. “Nothing worse than taking a whole bunch of pics – or, y’know, shooting a video – only to look back and realize the lighting wasn’t doing you any favors.” He looked back to Stockboy. “Speaking of favors, if you end up uploading this, could you try to use the shots of me that keep mostly to my left? That’s my better side. I mean, don’t get me wrong, both sides are above average, but again if this is gonna be immortalized on the internet forever—”

“Leo,” Raph cut in tightly, “stop talking.”

Donnie gestured at the group, brooched-up and human looking as they were, and said (a little louder than normal), “This entire endeavor is pointless! We are naught but average – albeit brilliant, in some cases – New Yorkers out for a stroll, as you and your camera can plainly see!”

“One, the camera’s not running yet, I need to get into position and do my intro. Two, you look like ‘average New Yorkers’ for now! If I have to pummel the glamour off, I—!”

Stockboy stopped dead, doing a double-take at them. At Leo specifically.

“Is that one of the aliens?!” he yelped, eyes huge behind his glasses.

Everyone’s heads snapped over to look(/glare) at Krang. In what was definitely a completely unrelated move, he slowly shuffled his way back into Leo’s shellpack, disappearing from sight.

(Though, in retrospect, kinda shocking it’d taken Stockboy this long to notice Krang just sitting there, making snappy commentary. Teenaged tunnel-vision, or something.)

“Are you carrying around one of the actual aliens that invaded New York?!” Stockboy pressed. “Or – I mean okay it's small, so— one of it’s young, maybe?”

Leo shifted awkwardly. “I mean… yeah, a little. It’s a whole thing, though. See—”

“You’re carrying around one of the actual aliens that invaded New York!” Stockboy repeated (practically squealed – calm down, dude).

“Not by choice, I promise you!” Uno called from inside the shellpack. “From either side!”

Stockboy wasn’t listening. “This is incredible! It’d already be one thing to get footage of the people who supposedly saved New York, but to have those same people— no, to have the Mutant Menace—” (“Not that crap AGAIN!” Raph burst, throwing up his hands.) “—actually be in league with the same aliens who they defended New York against?? Scandal! Intrigue! Outrage! My views would skyrocket! I’d be able to get verified overnight!”

He was staring at Leo almost wildly now. “Bring it back out.”

Leo felt… something swell in his chest. He didn’t wanna call it protectiveness, because like… what the heck was Baxter Stockboy gonna manage against Krang? And anyway (and sososo much more to the point), he didn’t like Krang. You don’t feel protective over people you don’t even like.

“Fat chance!” he spat, leaning back and glaring.

Stockboy glared back for a second, then shrugged. “Fine – I need to smack the glamours off you, I can add a few extra to get the alien to show itself again, too. But first—”

Something beeped inside his mechsuit, and the drone holding his phone hovered down to his eye line in front of him.

“Hey fans!” Stockboy began, “It’s me, Stockboy! That’s right—!”

“Nuh-uh,” April interrupted. “You are not gonna stand there and make a video of you trying to hurt my friends, right after mashing my idol!! Into!! The ground!!”

Stockboy blinked, thrown off. As he looked down at his mech’s feet (presumably to check who he’d landed on), there was a bellow of “APRILLL O’NEIL!!” and the O’Neil in question launched forward.

“What does that mean?” Krang asked as Leo watched her tear at the mech with her bare hands (she wasn’t doing too bad, all things considered – but then, Uno and Donnie had commented on the probable whys for that).

Leo blinked. “…what does what mean?”

“‘Apriloneil.’”

“…it’s her name?”

“Yes, I’ve gathered it’s what you call her, but what’s it mean? Why is she always yelling it? Is it a reference to some earth thing?”

“It— she’s yelling it because it’s her name. That’s it, that’s the whole thing.”

“…that’s it?” Krang repeated, somehow embodying incredulous and disillusioned and deadpan all at once. “This whole time she’s just been screaming her own name? I thought it was a battle-cry or something that she kept using, and that’s why you called her that!”

Leo snorted a little in spite of himself. “Nope – full government name.”

He felt Krang sink even lower in the shellpack. “That’s disappointing…”

Leo’s snort morphed into a full giggle. “You really didn’t put together it was her name…”

“You and your brothers all have fifty-million different names you go by!” Krang insisted heatedly. “Why should I have assumed you weren’t doing that with everybody? You call me things that aren’t my actual designation all the time!”

“I mean we could make one of them official, if it’d make you feel better?” Leo said, shrugging cheerfully. “Pop down to the courthouse and draw up the papers to legally dub thee ‘Cuddlelumps’? You could even borrow ‘Hamato’ if they push for a last name, I mean you’re literally growing off me so you probably count—”

Ooh. Um. That might’ve been taking the joke too far. Was it taking the joke too far? It’d felt weird… though now that he was thinking about it, maybe it should’ve felt weirder? Why’d he say that?

Krang didn’t catch the weird vibe Leo suddenly had. Or maybe he did, but it was at that moment that Stockboy finally managed to get a hold of April, so Leo didn’t pick up on it.

Stockboy threw her longways down the alley, and everyone else reflexively drew their weapons and moved forward to defend/avenge her.

Leo saw April had managed to twist in midair and slide into a crouch as she landed. Looking back up at them, she blurted “guys—!” but that was as much as Leo was able to catch.

He was quickly distracted, you see, by the multitude of arms suddenly exploding out of the mech, Doc Ock –style, and trying to slice and dice them all. The three-pronged, gripper-bits of the arms started spinning like sawblades, and were being swung at them wildly. Greeeeeat…

Maybe “Syndrome-bot from The Incredibles” was more accurate than Doc Ock, now that he thought about it… hm, would that mean they could maybe beat this thing like Mr. Incredible had beat the bot in the movie? Speed this whole debacle up a little? Worth a shot at least, right?

While everyone else was focusing on engaging the kid, one of the arms launched towards Leo. He opened a portal that let out directly in front of Stockboy.

The arm jettisoned through, Stockboy moved at the last possible second, trying to keep track of Mikey who was razzmatazzing left and right, and the arm punctured the mech down in its side, rather than through the chest.

Not quite the plan, but the whole mech was beeping pretty loudly and pretty rapidly now, so he felt like that must’ve done something.

Leo snapped the portal closed, severing the metal arm, and Stockboy said “oh no,” while looking very concerned.

The beeping increased, becoming even louder and faster. Stockboy activated a somethingsomething, which ejected him out of the suit and sent him gliding off in the parachute that deployed once he was high enough. Leo read the writing on the wall and opened another portal, yelling “Everybody in!” as he did, and everyone hustled over. No sooner had they all crossed back over into the Lair’s kitchen, literally just as Leo was closing the portal, and the whole mech exploded.

(Leo thought he heard a small, distant voice from the far end of the alley yell “yeah that’s right, run ya bottom-feeders!!” just before the whole thing went kaboom. Wonder what that was about. Someone wasn’t having a good night, that was for sure!)

---

“I’m still putting my money on a ghost!”

“Honestly Mikey, absolutely nothing about what we learned points towards—”

“You don’t know that for sure, Donald! Negative energies are a clear indicator of unhappy spirits!” A gasp. “Maybe the Spine-Breaker is the restless ghost of someone who was killed in that apartment? By getting their spine broken? Maybe by a lone-living man who lured them there? Now their spirit wanders New York, reeking their terrible vengeance—!”

“Is it not far more likely that dear ‘Kanada’ was simply hallucinating that the bandit went into that apartment, much like he hallucinated him being a PS5, or a mind-flayer?”

“I hope so. I can’t use the Spine-Breaker story for anything if it’s a ghost…”

“Hey, um, not to derail the conversation or anything, but should we be concerned about Stockboy?”

“Nah, we were in disguise the whole time, and he didn’t get any shots of Krang. Don’t worry so much, Raph—”

Krang sat on his host’s shoulder, listening to the group discuss their recent outing, and had a strange, niggling thought of, ‘why do I not feel IRRITATED by these fools?’

Because, usually, he was. Irritated with them, that was. In fact, that had been his standard disposition towards them until…

…stars, when had this even happened? It had been a slow, creeping thing that he was realizing he hadn’t bothered to keep track of. It had to have been recent-ish, though… When had he last felt the boiling hate that had been his only company within the prison dimension?

He couldn’t remember. At some point, numbness had replaced true ire, and it was only when one or more of them were obtrusive about their nonsense that he managed anything like irritation towards them. He was only just noticing now because, listening to them, having just ventured out on a whole escapade with them, he realized that he felt…

There were other things to focus on at the moment. Anything. Like his host, what was his host doing—

His host was glancing surreptitiously around the room, looking as though he was waiting for someone to speak to him. No one did; they were too busy conversing with each other.

Slowly, Krang felt his host begin to wilt. There we go, that sufficed to take the not-feelings that were accosting him and grind them into the ground. If Krang hadn’t known any better, he might’ve suspected the group was intentionally disregarding his host’s accomplishments. As it was, he suspected they were just ignorant and infuriatingly neglectful.

“That was an exceedingly well-executed attack you performed earlier, Pest,” he said pointedly, almost defiantly. “Redirecting its attack into its own infrastructure, I mean. Very ingenuitive.”

His host perked, turning to him with a smile, opened his mouth to say something—

—and chirped.

He clapped a hand over his mouth, and Krang gave a surprised burst of laughter, irritation abruptly forgotten.

“…soo that wasn’t voluntary??” his host said sheepishly after a moment, putting his hand down and chuckling nervously. “Heh, weird, right?”

He was grinning in that way that made it very clear he wasn’t sure what else to do, and had gone red in the face like he usually did when he was embarrassed. Which, indeed, he was, very much so, but it was more akin to what he felt whenever Krang utilized his off-button. There was joy mixed into it too, as odd of a sensation as that created.

And his host’s reaction to his own embarrassment was… amusing (?) enough where he could tolerate that portion of the experience.

“Is there a point in earthlings changing color like this?” Krang asked smoothly, grinning as he poked his host’s cheek. “Is it meant to signal something, or just act as a lovely accent?”

“You are literally so annoying, shut up,” his host insisted, looking the other way and batting his tentacle aside. He was still laughing bashfully.

…it was… odd. By all definitions, his host was acting like an idiot. The only enjoyment Krang ought to be feeling just then was the delighted sort of scorn that came from interacting with someone he was superior to. That wasn’t what sat thrumming in his core. Scorn was completely absent from the equation, for starters. It was… similar to whatever else was going on with the rest of the group, but… stronger.

He liked this. He wanted more of this.

The realization hit him at the exact moment Raphael finally addressed his host, albeit to ask “what was up” and “are you good?”

He was pleased his host was buying into his act so well. Same for the rest of the group. That was all this was. The lack of apprehension indicated that, for as much as he’d seemingly been aware of Krang’s true intentions, he was still beholden to his machinations regardless. His host had been downright affectionate as of late, what else could that mean? It boded well for Krang’s ultimate goal of taking him and his family unaware when he was finally free of him.

That was all this was. That was all this was.

Obviously.

---

Leo and Krang had fallen into a bedtime routine of sorts.

Either as Leo got ready for bed or once they were both bundled under the covers, Uno would do a sort of “nightly check-in.” Mostly because, lately, it was the only time they were alone enough to actually talk with each other. At this point, Leo could vent about anything that had bothered him over the course of the day. It was to make sure nothing had the chance to build up over time, which, fine, Leo could admit was a bad habit of his. Sometimes Krang would prompt him, sometimes (if things had been really annoying) Leo would just start talking.

Unsurprisingly, tonight they were talking about earlier.

“It’s not like I want them bowing to me or anything,” Leo said, pulling on some pajama pants. “I mean, like, if they wanted to I wouldn’t ruin their fun, but that would be their choice, I wouldn’t ask for it!”

Uno hummed noncommittally inside Leo’s shell, giving him the distinct impression this was something they disagreed on just slightly. Which tracked.

Covered enough to where it wouldn’t be embarrassing/indecent for someone else to see him, Leo flopped onto his bed. Uno correctly took this to mean he could come out of his shell, and crawled up onto his shoulder.

“It’s just that it’d be nice, every once and a while, to get a little acknowledgement. Just a little, ‘hey, you did good back there. You, specifically, did good.’ But like… how do you phrase wanting something like that?”

Leo slapped a big, fake smile onto his face, and started gesturing at no one.

“‘Heyyy, so, I know you guys love me and everything, but I’m not really ~feeling it~ so if you could maybe drop a couple comments about how you think I’m cool and strong and an important part of the team, that’d be great, thanks! OH but also you have to make sure you sprinkle it into conversation in a way that feels spontaneous and like you really mean it, and not like you’re babying me or saying it out of pity, okay?’”

He let his arms fall limp onto the bed, splayed out on either side. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

Krang was quiet for a second. Then, slowly, he said, “Addressing things individually, do you not feel as though you’re strong or an important part of your ‘team’?” Then before Leo could answer, “Because we’ve discussed this before, as I recall – if it hadn’t been for you—”

“Nonono, this is different than that, this is more—” Leo rummaged through his mind for the right words, “—I know I can be like— useful. I know I’ve got strengths. It’s just… So, Raph’s the leader, right? And Donnie’s the genius tech-guy, and then Mikey’s the creative, fun, heart-made-of-gold guy. Who can also cook. And then April’s the enthusiastic go-getter who – incoming pun, because it’s perfect – pulls us out of our shells and keeps us all together. Which… that’s all really important stuff! Literally, look at any kids’ cartoon; it’ll tell you a team’s not complete if you don’t have all those parts!”

(Krang looked confused at the “kids’ cartoon” comment, and Leo realized too late he probably didn’t have any context for what that was. Oh well.)

Leo faltered, coming to his point but now unsure if he actually wanted to say it. Finally he sighed. “And then there’s… me.”

Krang didn’t say anything, just let him gather the will to keep talking get his thoughts in order.

“I tried to carve out a spot as the team’s faceman, right? Which I mean – bare-minimum I’ve definitely got the best face for the job, so it would make sense, but—”

“Pardon, what is a ‘faceman,’ exactly?”

“—hm? Oh, it’s like… the face of the group? When you think of them, he/she/they’s the first one to pop into your head, y’know? Usually because they’re the guy who’s at the front of things doing the talking, like the spokesperson, kinda.”

“I… see.”

“Right. Well, anyway, that was my angle for a long time. Mostly just because the other thing didn’t work out, but—”

“What ‘other thing’?”

Leo felt his expression drop. Ugh, why could he never speak and think at the same time? He hadn’t needed to bring that up…

“I… kinda-sorta thought that since I didn’t have a super-defined thing I could do, I could learn some, like… medical stuff? So that I could help out if needed, and be, um… n-necessary?”

This sounded so stupid. Was this actually as embarrassing as it felt? ’Cause it felt really embarrassing to say all this out loud.

He realized he was playing with his fingers, and being obvious about it. Both hands snapped shut into fists on his plastron. Speaking faster than he meant to, he finished, “But yeah, learning med-stuff requires a lot of reading which— I mean you can probably guess how that went, considering. Kiiinda threw a wrench into the works, so it never happened.”

Krang’s brow was furrowed like he was irritated (or maybe exasperated was a better word for it?), but he otherwise seemed unbothered.

“If you could read without the letters jumbling themselves up for you, is this still something you’d be interested in pursuing?” he asked.

“Uhh… I mean… yeah, I guess? It’d be nice to be… needed, I guess.”

“Then I’ll read whatever it is you need to you,” he said. “The letters don’t move for me, and you can listen just fine— …when it suits you, anyway. So mark that problem as solved, and stop thinking about it.”

Leo stared at him. “Wait— seriously?”

Uno gave him his patented “don’t be so stupid” –look. “Yes, ‘seriously.’ Pick a time and we’ll get started.” He scoffed suddenly. “Not that it’s necessary, by any means, at least in not terms of you being ‘needed’ hinging on it. One of the first things I saw you do was ‘faceman’ at that reptile who was trying to steal the insects.”

Looking like he was frustrated with being made to say it out loud, he added, “You had a point, before – Raphael would’ve been arguing with her for ages if left to his own devices. It was better for all involved that you’d stepped in when you did.”

Leo felt… warm. But not in the uncomfortable, embarrassed sort of way. In the— well. The cozy kinda way. The way he’d felt earlier, when Uno had— anyway. He couldn’t even be fussed to react when Uno groused, “Are we done with that point, now? You’re not going to mope unwarrantedly about it any longer?”

Leo shook his head, realizing a little belatedly that he was smiling.

Uno looked away suddenly, clearing his throat.

“Good. Anyway. Moving on: That out of the way, is it common for earthlings to periodically reaffirm their beliefs in a comrade’s prowess?” Leo must’ve looked confused (which was accurate), because he tried again: “Is there any possibility your family never comments on your capabilities because they feel the sentiment is implicit? Because they know what you can do, they view it as too obvious to point out?”

Leo thought for a second.

“…I mean… maybe,” he said kind of slowly, and, ah darn. That warm-cozy feeling had already faded. “I kinda doubt it, though…”

“Why?” Krang asked. “You’re clearly above them in terms of skill – and if you say so much as ONE WORD in protest here I’m going to hit you until we’re both unconscious, be quiet – you’re above them in skill, so why would they think to compliment you? It would be like commending water for being wetter than most things. It’s expected.”

Leo looked at him for a second. It was a nice sentiment, but he felt fairly confident that wasn’t what was happening in his situation. Mikey was expected to be a good artist, but everyone (Leo included) still always told him how much they liked his pieces whenever he showed them to them.

“Is that how it is for Krangs?” Leo asked, the thought hitting him out of nowhere.

“Obviously,” Krang said, sounding put out at the implication that Leo might’ve suspected anything less. “Krang receive less and less affirmations the higher they rank. Such things are meant to inspire those of lower stations to strive to be the best they can. The higher a Krang’s station, the more it’s expected they be their best.”

…m’kay, so, two things: First, that was some bullshit as far as Leo was concerned. Just because it was widely known that someone could do amazing things didn’t mean they’d get tired of people telling them they did a good job. That was malarkey. Second…

…hadn’t Uno gone on record saying he was the leader of all Krang? Was that like… a newish thing that had started once it was only him and his sibs left? Or had that been more of a longstanding situation? How long had it been since someone had told him they were proud of him, or openly said they thought he was cool?

The memory of this guy loudly proclaiming that he was a gift came floating back to Leo. Almost like if he didn’t say it—

Just like that, Leo was shot straight through the plastron by a sense of understanding that he’d never really felt before, to the point that he couldn’t bring himself to be unsettled by it. He wondered if Uno had ever had any self-realizations about the dots Leo had just connected. He wondered if that was why he had suggested this whole point to begin with.

this is dangerous, you don’t like him, he’s not like you, you’re falling into the same trap you were trying to sidestep earlier

The realization and feelings were enough to send Leo’s misgivings to the back of the line of his thoughts. Would they eventually shuffle their way back to the front? (Probably, almost definitely) possibly, but he’d worry about that as it happened. In the meantime, he was making the executive decision to try to enjoy the rest of his night. He felt better.

Uno did too, apparently – or at least, he seemed decently relieved.

“Put on one of your ‘Jupiter Jims,’” he instructed suddenly, his posture loosening on Leo’s shoulder. “I need dopamine…”

Leo snorted and rolled his eyes, only just barely refraining from saying something like “yes sir,” or something. He didn’t think Uno would take that as the “h’okay bossy-socks, whatever you say” –snark that Leo would mean it as. He’d probably like it too much and get smug. Why the heck did that thought make Leo feel endeared…??

As the opening credits started to roll and they were getting settled in bed, Leo realized that things were… calm. Uno seemed comfortable. Not to put it in his terms or anything, but his guard was down. If Leo were to ask him a question, he might answer.

Slowly, doubting himself even as he spoke, he said, “Hey, so… I’m not the only guy with feelings here… how’re you doing?”

Krang froze for a moment, then said (maybe a little too forcefully, and with a lot of finality), “I’m fine, Pest.”

Leo didn’t believe that for a picosecond, obviously. For starters, he was the king of this maneuver, and Uno of all people should know that. (Maybe he did. Maybe he’d learned it from Leo.) Even if he hadn’t racked up waay too many personal flyer-miles with this exact play, he wasn’t born yesterday.

Krang would’ve pushed if the situations were reversed. He would’ve pressed Leo to talk about what was obviously bothering him, and he wouldn’t have backed down until Leo did so.

Leo wasn’t Krang.

Bluntly he said, “Not being allowed to get compliments just because you’ve proven you’re ‘strong enough’ or whatever is dumb, just so you know, and I’m opting out: You’re smart, and you can be really helpful when you’re not being an ass.”

Now, see, what Leo had been expecting to happen was for Krang to either roll his eyes and dismiss him, or for him to get really smug and wax poetic about the glory of the Krang.

Instead, his gills popped open as he blinked at Leo in surprise.

Was Leo crazy, or were they glowing brighter than he remembered them doing previously? He really only had a split-second to ponder this, because once that split-second was up Uno slapped a tentacle over each gill, forcibly closing them.

Leo stared for a second, shocked, and then a huge grin split his face.

Because HA! Ha ha ha HA!! Leo hadn’t been sure he’d be able to get Krang back for earlier, at least not to the same degree! But nope! The same moves he’d used on Leo worked on him too, apparently! Boy did Leo love it when things worked out all nice and square like that!

Little thing about Leo, he had never been a “quit while you’re ahead” –type of guy. It was for this reason that, still grinning, he said, “You’re pretty much stronger than anybody else I’ve ever known, too.”

Krang got as far as “I’m— that’s—” before apparently giving up and quickly turning away.

He was making that gurgly-bubbly noise again. Entirely against his will, if his reaction was anything to go by.

“There we go, see?” Leo asked, positively soaring on the sense of accomplishment he’d just got. “Feels good to have someone say nice stuff to you, don’t it? Even if they are a ‘lower rank’ than you?”

He tilted his head to rest against Krang’s, still grinning. “I mean, I’m assuming you think I’m lower, since you said that nice stuff about me earlier, you sweetie-pie you—”

“Shut up,” Krang said, evidently still not able to look at him. Guess who wasn’t pushing him away, though! Guess who was smiling in spite of himself! Guess who was still gurgle-purring around every word he said! Figuring he might as well go all-in, Leo reached up and started rubbing Krang’s gill-thingies, too. Krang made a little noise – embarrassed and frustrated and pleased all at once.

“Although, I mean, I’m assuming that where you sit on the Krang social ladder has something to do with how well you can fight/how strong you are? That whole crock, but! I did survive you, not sayin’ just sayin’. More than that, didn’t you make a whole point about how I ‘kept up with you’? That one time we were talking, remember? Pretty sure that means we’re even-steven, honestly. Should move me up a rung at least—”

Presumably fighting back in the only way he really had left, Krang started scritching under Leo’s chin.

“You’re insufferable,” Uno said, still not looking at him. And if he thought that would be enough to hide his smile, he was gonna be one disappointed cube of bubblegum!

“I’m right,” Leo sighed, turning to jelly. Damn, at this rate he wasn’t even gonna make it to the ten minute mark of the movie… “And anyway, I owed ya for earlier.”

He realized a little late that he mighta coulda used a little more distinction in what he’d said. What he’d meant was, “I’m right that I’m on the same level as you,” and “I owed you for taking me off-guard and making me look like a dork earlier.” Pairing both points together without specifying kind of made it sound like he was saying “I’m right about all the nice stuff I said, and I owed you for the nice stuff you said.” Oops.

Uno abruptly pressed into his neck, seemingly getting comfortable.

…eh. Oh well. What he’d said vs. what he’d meant vs. how it was interpreted was all close enough. No point getting pressed over the details. Anyway, this was like one of his Top Five JJ movies, that was a lot more deserving of his attention…

Notes:

Is there any greater joy than seeing a confident character who’s 110% secure in their own abilities crumble like a goddamn house of cards when their love-interest says something nice to them?

Originally, I was gonna do a whole big fight scene with Stockboy. I eventually decided to scrap it, both because I’m bad at writing action scenes (or at least, they don’t come easily to me), and because the scene served its purpose without the big fight. Anyway, I’ve got some bigger, more plot-heavy action scenes coming up, so hopefully no one feels cheated that I skimped on this one.

Also, the bit with everyone talking and Leo kinda falling to the wayside was actually inspired by this.

When it comes to information that’s revealed outside of canon, I personally feel that if they didn’t make it abundantly clear in the source material, fans are free to cherry-pick what they like and disregard the rest. That said, the comics are considered official canon alongside the show. This kind of situation I just constructed is canon. I stand by the “you take what you want, reject the rest” mentality, but. I mean come on now.

(The final section is the fluff I didn’t use in the last chapter, by the way! Trivia!)

Chapter 23: What Do We Do Now?

It would have been different if progress was simply slow; that would have still counted as progress. But no, it wasn’t that it was slow, it was that progress was nonexistent.

Months of work, and Draxum was still not one inch closer to separating the Krang from Leonardo. 

Draxum stepped off the buhss and onto the pavement, fighting with all he had to keep his expression neutral. Michelangelo had spent the last however-many years impressing the importance of not scowling and/or grimacing every time he saw a human. And, indeed, things did go a lot smoother for him if the human-worms didn’t immediately pick up on his distaste for them.

Said distaste had admittedly gone down significantly over his time spent living amongst them. Frankly though, he preferred not to advertise that. The amount of grief he would get from the rest of the “family” he’d been sucked into would be a nightmare. At the very least, he expected a lot of smug side-glances and “I told you so!”s from Michelangelo.

All that aside, his hatred for the accursed transport known only as “the buhss” remained unaltered throughout the years. Nothing but sweaty, grumpy humans on all sides, always, and there was never anywhere to sit. Regrettably, public human-transportation was really his only option unless he wanted to walk. Which, it must be pointed out, he usually did, but the area he was planning to canvas was a bit too far to justify the time it would take to walk there and back, so, unfortunately: The buhss it was.

He needed somewhere new to run his experiments on the empyrean. He was becoming increasingly concerned that his landlord was going to start noticing if he continued to conduct them in his apartment. Particularly considering his most recent attempt had resulted in something that he hesitated to classify as anything less than a bioweapon. Which was not only a far cry from mystically separating a space parasite from its host (at least not safely), but it also wasn’t exactly especially ideal to have just laying around. He already had Hidden City authorities out for his blood – he didn’t need the same from New York’s on top of it.

…that said, he was still going to keep what he’d accidentally created. It might be useful for something down the line, and anyway what only he knew couldn’t hurt anyone (or get him reprimanded)…

The point: He needed to find an alternative locale where he could more easily and discretely run his experiments, but that wasn’t an utter hovel that was rife with contaminants. And that he could also afford to purchase/rent on a lunch-lord’s budget.

As could easily be surmised, the odds weighed heavily against him. Regardless, he’d found an ad for an office space that seemed… adequate, so he was off to inspect it. Hopefully, the stars would align at least somewhat, and it would suit his purposes well enough. Hopefully (though depressingly, even more unlikely), having the proper space to work would inspire some sort of breakthrough.

Hopefully, it wasn’t already too late.

Draxum’s pace slowed momentarily, but then he huffed and quickly brought it back up to speed. Contemplating what-ifs and might-bes was a lovely way to make a person freeze, often when it would otherwise behoove them to keep moving. If he had worried about things that might happen, for example, he never would have taken his first steps to creating mutagen in the first place.

…even though that had resulted in his lab being destroyed, twice, as well as him losing his occupation as the head of Hidden City Security. Which meant no more access to rare, confiscated mystic oddities, which had been (and still were, frankly) his favorite things to collect and study. Not to mention it had resulted in the script getting completely flipped, to coin a phrase, and getting him labelled as the criminal.

He huffed, rolling his eyes at himself. In retrospect, perhaps it would have been better to have stayed frozen, in that regard…

…but then, if he had, he wouldn’t have four boys.

What if he didn’t hurry and was left with only three?

A nearby crack in the pavement widened slightly suddenly, and the noise of it made Draxum catch himself again. He stopped completely, glancing down at it. He saw the smallest tip of a purple vine peeking up at him.

He was distantly glad that, at least, there wasn’t anyone nearby at the moment (he was rather pushing the borders of the city limits out here; the population being less dense was a perk). As much as he disliked it, he’d been forced to admit over the years that it truly was for the best if humans never saw him use his powers. As it turned out, however, feeling especially strong in any negative direction had the habit of drawing them out of him at points, whether he willed them or not.

It wasn’t simply difficult to picture the boys’ quad absent a member, it felt fundamentally wrong.

He began walking again.

He and Leonardo weren’t… close. Frankly, Draxum hesitated to say he was “close” with any of the turtles, save perhaps Michelangelo. He was by far the easiest to talk to, at least in Draxum’s opinion. He was engaging in a way that Draxum – who preferred to keep his thoughts closer to his chest (or else expose them properly in a grand speech) – felt compelled to respond to. He supposed that, if he were being fair, he could also get along with Donatello after a fashion, but that was really only when their mutual respect for science and the art of creation came up. So he still ranked a bit below Michelangelo.

Leonardo just… talked. Quite a lot, at all times. And Draxum often hadn’t the slightest idea of how to respond to anything he said. There was also the trifling little matter that Leonardo was evidently intent on bringing up how Draxum had thrown him off a roof at least once every conversation. Which rather spoiled the rest of the discussion going forward, no matter what that discussion was about.

Regardless. Gone were the days Draxum could view the turtles – any of them – as the living weapons he’d originally created them to be. “Close” or not, Leonardo was just as much one of his boys as he was the rat’s.

One of his boys had nearly died nearly been killed, and he’d been two states away, none the wiser.

For months after the invasion, it had been all Draxum had been able to think about. The thought that Leonardo might have, in a crueler reality, breathed his last while Draxum was casually discussing ways to maximize lunch-line efficiency with his peers clawed at the inside of his chest at consistent intervals. So much as glancing at Leonardo’s battered form why did he look so small, suddenly? during the entirety of his healing period had made something squeeze at his heart ferociously.

It was made so, so much worse by the realization that, in another different (but still indescribably cruel) reality, Leonardo may have looked like that at Draxum’s hand. All the boys might have.

Draxum didn’t know why it had taken this to make him fully understand that fact. At the time he’d been their enemy, he’d dismissed their potential demises as being necessary to the greater good. Then, once they’d all made amends, he’d dismissed his previous line of thinking (and everything he’d done regarding such) with the fact that he’d never actually succeeded in hurting any of the turtles. Not to any notable degree, anyway. So what was the use in getting fussed with it after the fact?

And then he saw Leonardo after he’d faced the Krang. And he was overcome with rage and grief and a million other things.

And then it all clicked.

Ever since, he’d been plagued with the image of any of the boys in a miserable, broken physical state, hanging limply from his own fist. Particularly Leonardo, considering it was the sight of his injuries that had sparked these visions. Particularly considering out of all of them, he was the one Draxum had come closest to genuinely killing injuring. He no longer blamed the rat for the grudge he’d held against him when Michelangelo had first tried to bring them together.

I made you, rang out inside his head now when he looked at him. You’re mine too.

And you almost died.

What if the Krang managed to somehow overtake his mind if left to fester for too long? What if it managed to split from him before anyone could properly prepare for it, and then finished what it started once it had no further use for him? According to the rat’s updates, nothing new seemed to have developed, but what if that was all a ploy to lull them into a false sense of security? It’s what Draxum would have done…

Draxum turned the corner, harshly trying to tug himself out of the stream of consciousness he’d fallen into. He very nearly tripped over two positively miniscule gargoyles in his distraction.

Two very familiar— …oddly battered-looking gargoyles.

Draxum looked at them. They looked at him. They looked at each other. They looked back to him.

And then Huginn said, voice reaching for its usual cheerful, cajoling lilt (and missing by mere inches), “Draxum! Heyyy! Good to see you again! Could we, um, talk for a minute…?”

---

Leo and Krang had found a (rare, as of late) moment by themselves. Leo half-suspected everyone just thought the other guy was keeping them company rather than easing up on whatever it was they were doing, but he wasn’t about to start complaining.

Since they’d been watching so much Jupiter Jim lately anyway, Leo had suggested he and Uno do things properly, and start from the beginning. He’d agreed! Which, though Leo knew he technically didn’t have any choice (he was kinda stuck watching whatever Leo put on, whether he agreed to it or not), Leo was nonetheless taking it as confirmation that he liked the JJ series too.

But then, like, how could he not? Especially when he had a superfan right there to give him fun-facts and behind-the-scenes trivia?

“This is a different human,” Krang pointed out as the opening credits faded out, revealing the man of the hour (and a half): Mr. Jupiter James himself!

Sorta.

“Yeah, okay, so!: When I said we’d be starting at the beginning, I meant the very beginning. The guy we’re used to seeing – and who plays JJ for pretty much all of the franchise – is Markus Moncrief, right? He’s unfortunately a littllle—” Leo whistled a quick mimicry of a cuckoo-clock, twirling his index next to his temple, “—but I’m pretty sure that’s just the price you pay to make art for so many years. Anyway: He’s actually the second Jupiter Jim in the franchise!

“He took over from the original guy – Ed Carter – in the 80s. Carter only acted in the first two. He was too old – comparatively – and just not flashy enough for where they wanted to take the franchise, so they retconned things a little by saying Moncrief was actually the original JJ’s son. They were originally gonna market everything starring him as ‘Jupiter Jim Junior,’ but eventually decided that outright renaming the franchise could turn off the fans who were attached to the first two movies. So they cut that factoid out of their marketing campaign, left it as a throwaway line in the first movie Moncrief starred in, and then never mentioned it again.”

“Ah,” Uno said.

Several minutes passed as they watched.

“Everything regarding space-travel is incredibly inaccurate, you realize,” Krang said. “That’s true across the franchise, it would seem, but it’s especially egregious here.”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Cut ’em some slack, this was the 70s. At this point in history the closest people had ever gotten to space was faking a moon-landing, I’m pretty sure.” He gestured at the screen absently. “They got a black guy for the lead of their franchise though. Twice. Which was big. Most 70s flicks with black leads are pretty niche – they definitely didn’t usually get 80+ sequels. It’s part of the reason JJ’s got such staying-power.”

Krang tilted his head, confused. “‘Black’?”

“Oh, whoops – yeah, it’s what you call it when people’s skin is dark like that.”

Krang looked at the screen, then back to Leo. “That human is brown? Umber, if we’re being specific.”

“First of all, don’t be pretentious—” (“I’m not— how is that ‘pretentious—’?!”) “—second, I know, but that’s just what you call it. And if they’re pasty you say they’re ‘white—’”

“They’re pink—”

“I didn’t decide this was the verbiage we were using! Take it up with the old dead guys who made up English or whatever! I’m just the translator!”

Krang paused for a second, looking torn between more indignant arguing and exhausted acceptance. Apparently, acceptance won.

“So… Apriloneil would be black, then? Not literally, but that’s what you’d refer to her as being?”

“Bingo.”

“And why was it ‘niche’ to have a black lead back before? You said several technological shifts took place in regards to earthen media – tapes to disks, all that – did black people not film well up until one such shift was made?” He glanced back at the screen. “Because it looks fine to me, if that was the case…”

Leo shifted uncomfortably. “Nnnnno, it’s unfortunately a little uglier than that…”

“‘Uglier’?”

“Yeah, so, up until… I guess pretty recently, comparatively, black people were treated as like… less than. They actually had way less rights than most other people. And then way back when, they were considered literal property, like they’d get bought and sold and everything. Y’know, after the white people went and kidnapped them. It didn’t really start changing untilll— c’mon history don’t flake on me now, this was actual important stuff – the 60s, I think? Anyway, having a black guy be the lead in not just a movie, but be the face of basically a whole franchise? Big stuff.”

“…what was the point of this? Were ‘the white people’ trying to… establish themselves against rivals, or…?”

Leo suddenly felt like he had something sticking to the inside of his throat, realizing too late how close this was to the Krang’s whole… everything. Swallowing the feeling (he really just wanted to keep things lowkey and not think about this), he said, as neutrally yet firmly as he could, “No, they weren’t, the whole thing was stupid and evil.”

“…pause the film.”

Leo, taken off-guard by how hard his voice was, complied without comment or question, his stomach dropping.

There was a second as Krang apparently got his thoughts in order.

“Why,” he finally began, and yet again Leo was surprised by the note of real anger in his words, “are humans apparently allowed to subjugate each other however and whenever they see fit, but the Krang were imprisoned when they tried?”

Leo gaped. “It— wh— They’re not allowed! It was just as bad when they did it! That’s the whole point of what I was saying! It was shitty that people were doing that to other people! Jupiter Jim is good because it’s pretty much always said ‘screw that’!”

“Why were humans doing it in the first place if it was so ‘shitty’?”

There was a hard, cold lump forming in Leo’s gut. For as much as he was trying to stay non-combative, Krang’s aggressiveness was starting to spark actual anger in him. How had things spiraled so quickly? They’d been watching a silly space movie, for crying out loud—

this is what’s been sitting in front of you this whole time, you didn’t want to see it but this is who you’re dealing with, it always has been

Glaring, he bit out, “Because some people are shitty, and they do shitty things! There’s been bad eggs throughout all of history, Cuddlelumps – slavery, wars, murder, the whole nine-yards! That doesn’t make any of it right—”

“And that’s my whole point!” Krang spat, glaring back. “It’s not right! It’s pointless and nonsensical! They’re all humans, yet they’ll in-fight with each other over something as stupid as coloration! If humans had simply welcomed Krang when we’d first arrived, that entire issue would have been nullified!”

Leo’s glare faltered a little, confusion eeking into his thoughts even as he tried to hold firm. “How the hell could the Krang taking over the planet ‘nullify’ that issue? What, were your big plans to level the playing-field by turning everybody into mindless slaves—?”

“The Krang did not turn the planets we overtook into slaves! And the ‘mindlessness’ to which you’re referring would’ve been bred out after a few generations!” Krang glared somehow harder. “We assimilated them! Do you understand what that means, Pest?!” 

He glowered at Leo as if he wanted him to answer, but plowed on before he actually could: “It means no more petty in-fighting for stupid reasons! It means they wouldn’t feel the heavy, choking sadness that you’re frequently subjected to! It means they would have the strength to defend themselves from interplanetary invaders, should the need arise! We were gifting them the likeness of Krang! They should have been grateful!” 

Finishing, he spat, “Instead, we were punished for doing something they'll do themselves, despite having a genuine, logical reason for our actions. Unlike them, apparently.” 

Leo’s anger died as he listened, something clicking. Miscommunication thwarted, he was now sort of surprised, mostly numb.

“You… you really think you were helping people when you krangified them, don’t you…?”

“We were!” Krang snarled maybe snarl wasn’t the best description; enraged or not Leo was sure he’d heard his voice break just slightly. “And then the humans destroyed everything.”

“…is that why you were going so hard on earth when you came through the second time? Revenge? You and your sibs didn’t seem too concerned with giving ‘gifts’ when you came out of that portal, or… really anytime afterward, if I’m honest.”

Krang gave him a look through narrowed eyes. “You spend one thousand years locked away and see how generous you feel.”

“Fair enough,” Leo mumbled. Then, even though he felt he already knew the answer, he asked, “What compelled you guys to start doing this?” Then, clarifying, “Assimilating planets, I mean?”

“Krang are the strongest beings in existence,” he growled. “It’s our right.”

“But why bother? According to you, you guys were out there trying to make people better, yeah? But for why? What did you get out of it?”

“The rest of the universe was weak,” Krang insisted hotly, like it was obvious. “They didn’t deserve to exist! Krang gave them strength, and in doing so we made them worthy! Krang had been embarking on this crusade for eons until—!”

“So what I’m hearing,” Leo interrupted (softer than he’d meant to, but Krang stopped talking anyway), “was that you guys felt it was your duty to help the people weaker than you?”

Krang didn’t respond. He was staring at him, horrified and furious all at once. He wanted to say something, Leo could tell— more than tell, he could feel it, but what that was, he apparently couldn’t work out.

Leo couldn’t work out what to say either. In his defense, the only thought he could really force through his head here was, ‘what do I do now?’

Because Krang had been trying to help.

It didn’t change how many people he’d hurt, it didn’t fix anything he’d broken. It still didn’t negate any of the bad stuff he did—

He’d been trying to help.

Leo and his brothers had been taught it was the right thing to help people who needed it. They’d been taught that the best way to help people was to use their strength to keep people safe when they couldn’t do it themselves. Same lesson, different font.

“Leo!!”

Both Leo and Krang jumped at the sound of Mikey’s voice.

He called again: “Leo!! Come quick! Raph’s about to beat his high-score on Zombie Unicorn!”

Leo stared at his door for a second. Before he could think of how to respond, Krang called back, “He’s coming!”

Leo turned back to him, but he didn’t make eye-contact. When Leo didn’t move, he prompted, tersely, “Your brothers are waiting for you, Pest. What they want you for sounds time-sensitive. Get a move on.”

Slowly, Leo stood up, and made his way towards the door.

---

“Draxi-poo, it’s so… nice, to see you again!”

Draxum was having a very hard time believing that. For starters, Big Mama’s voice was exceptionally strained. Moreover, a muscle in her cheek was twitching worrisomely, completely destroying the effect of her forced smile. Finally, she kept throwing glances of “you two had better have an explanation for this” at Huginn and Muninn. He would know, he’d given them that type of glance often when they’d worked for him.

(He couldn’t remember them looking quite so nervous when he had done it, though…)

He looked around the… “office.” If you could call it that, which he hesitated to. A room with naught but a desk plopped in the middle did not an office usually make.

As if reading his mind (or maybe she’d just noticed him glancing around the room), Big Mama said, “You’ll have to forgive the hoggledy-woggly state of everything. I’m rather… in-between things, at the moment—”

“I picked up on that,” Draxum said, sparing her a look out of the corner of his eye.

The muscle in her cheek twitched again.

“—and I wasn’t expecting visitors. I’ve had no time to spruce up or tidy or any of that. So sorry.”

Her head snapped in the direction of Huginn and Muninn (and Draxum was becoming increasingly alarmed at the way they flinched). “Would either of you goylies care to explain why you’ve dragged an audience into my office without so much as an eensy-piddle of warning?”

The pair looked at each other (Draxum got the sense they were either bracing themselves or mutually solidifying their resolve), swallowed, and then Huginn moved forward a step.

“Why else, boss? We found you your next Battle Nexus champ!”

“What.”

“WHAT?!”

“You said you wanted someone more ‘bloodthirsty’ then your last champ – who could fill that slot better than one of the guys who went toe-to-toe with him and survived?” Huginn asked.

This was ludicrous! No, worse, it was an insult! Him? Work for Big Mama? Who was infamous for her ability to trap people in dangerous, uneven deals? By competing in a bloodsport wherein the greatest prize that could be gained often amounted to little more than “street cred,” and the greatest thing that could be lost would be his life?

Did they think him insane, or simply a complete fool? In what backwards, upside-down world did either of these halfwits think Draxum would ever willingly—

“And you said you wanted someone more charismatic than Lou Jitsu,” Muninn added. “We worked for the guy, so we’ve got experience, so trust us when we say it doesn’t get more charismatic than Baron Draxum!”

—on second thought, he should let them finish. They’d clearly put a lot of thought into their pitch, it would be rude to interrupt now.

“Plus— plus! Look at those shoulders!” Huginn pointed out (as in, he was literally pointing).

“Best I’ve ever perched on in my life!” Muginn agreed, nodding.

“People love shoulders! They’re on every magazine nowadays. The crowd will go nuts.”

Big Mama stared at them for a moment, expressionless. Then, slowly, “And you thought he’d go along with this, did you?”

Huginn and Muninn glanced at each other nervously, but before they could answer she turned back to Draxum. “Well, Draxi? Will you help a poor damsel in need? Or has too much water flowed under our bibbly-bubbly bridge? Have the goylies have once again wasted my time with their incompetence?”

She was looking at Huginn and Muninn once again, who were pressing into each other, seemingly trying to make themselves as small as possible and avoiding eye-contact.

“Why are you both flinching like beaten dogs?” Draxum asked abruptly, ignoring her question.

Big Mama exhaled through her nose, rolling her eyes. “Yes, quite extranfibbulous, aren’t they? A few rounds in the Nexus and now they jump making me toast in the morning. Quite depressing, really – especially considering the scum-drummies competing in the Nexus now aren’t even half as fearsome as the champions I used to have—”

“Since when is the Battle Nexus back?” Draxum sniped. “Last I heard it had dissolved after your Battle Nexus: New York fiasco…”

She gave him a dangerous, narrow-eyed look, saying, “As I believe I’ve already told you, it’s in-between things at the moment. Temporarily, I assure you. But I’m still holding little get-togethers, here and there, so the public doesn’t forget completely. It’s important to stay on top of these matters, you know.”

Draxum grunted noncommittally, taking the opportunity to visually inspect the two gargoyles a bit more closely.

Huginn wasn’t flying straight – upon closer inspection, his wing was crumpled. Muninn seemed reluctant to land; his leg was tucked up oddly against his body. This among other smaller (but far, far more numerous) injuries dotting their bodies.

Gargoyles could split logs with their faces, and get right back up. Draxum had tested this, on these gargoyles in particular. What had she been doing to them, in whatever lackluster excuse for a battle club she’d scraped together, that had resulted in this…?

“You’re both still under contract,” Draxum announced suddenly.

As the other three turned to him, staring, he went on, “According to the contract I signed with Goyles of Fortune, you two work for me until such a time where I terminate our arrangement or you die. I’ve terminated nothing, and as far as I can tell neither of you are dead. By all rights, you still work for me.”

Big Mama stood up sharply from her seat. The movement sent her chair rolling behind her with a clatter, making Huginn and Muninn flinch back.

“Now see here Draxum,” she snapped, her eyes burning beneath a furrowed brow, “I don’t care what sort of arrangement you had with the wretched goylies previously, they’re working for me presently!”

“Did they sign a contract for you?” he asked stonily. “Because if not, really all you have over them is a verbal agreement, which is hardly binding.”

He gave them both a look. 

“Well?” he demanded when all they did was stare at him, confused. “What are you waiting for?” He patted one of his shoulders indicatively. “Up-up.” 

Huginn’s gaze flipped nervously between him and Big Mama a few times; Muninn seemed unable to move.

Then Huginn took a deep breath, and yelled “We QUIT!” back at Big Mama, quickly grabbing Muninn by the wrist, and flying towards Draxum as fast as his wings would go.

Big Mama offered a bout of outraged, inelegant sputtering. “You what?!”

“You heard them,” Draxum said coldly (albeit with a bit of a grunt – Huginn and Muninn collided with his shoulders at that moment). “They quit.”

Big Mama looked… well, livid. It had been a well-known rule of the Hidden City underworld to never steal from Big Mama, which – though that wasn’t what Draxum was doing; you couldn’t steal sentient beings – she was undoubtedly interpreting this situation as. Draxum held her gaze, bracing to summon a vine at a second’s notice.

There was a split second where he was sure she was about to change into her true form for combat – Huginn and Muninn sank lower on his shoulders, cowering – his muscles tensed in preparation, and then—

“Very well, Draxi,” she exhaled, rolling tension out of her own shoulders. “Take the goylies if you must – keeping them isn’t worth the fight it would take to do so, nor are they worth losing my deposit on the building. Use them for fodder in whatever silly-willy experiments you’re working on these days. Blow them up, melt them if you like, see if I care.”

She gave him a smile that was sweet and poisonous. “But just so you know~ I will remember this.”

“…yeah,” Draxum said slowly, still not breaking eye-contact even as he slowly backed out of the room. “I figured you would.”

Big Mama didn’t break eye-contact either. She didn’t so much as blink. She watched them go, tracking them with only her eyes, and didn’t say anything more. When he finally turned the corner, he snapped his gaze forward and quickly marched from the building. The faster the three of them got out of there, the better.

(He had decided to forgo looking into the space he’d originally set out to inspect, and simply head home. Even if the space was exactly what he needed, it would be entirely too close to whatever operation Big Mama was now running. Which, plainly, would be very unwise to place himself in close proximity to.)

As soon as they exited back onto the street, the two gargoyles sitting on either of his shoulders promptly attempted to commit murder via a combination of strangulation and drowning. That was to say, they both simultaneously wrapped their arms around his neck and squeezed, bursting into tears as they did.

Below the sounds of his own choking and gasping, he thought he heard something blubbered to the effect of “WE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!”

---

Krang wanted to hurt something.

His host’s family had called him over to come witness some inane something-or-other. Krang had willfully disassociated through most of it. Too much of his focus was required towards keeping his anger in check. 

Because how dare he. How dare he. To insinuate for even a moment that the Krang’s goals could be comparable to such pathetic, weak sentiments—

“Hey Uno?” his host asked hesitantly. “Could we talk, or do you still need a minute?”

They were back in their room, finally. After Krang’s host had finished watching whatever it was Raphael had been doing, he had been roped into an assortment of other things. He’d only been left alone when he’d excused himself for bed.

“I presently have no power over whether you choose to start chattering or not,” Krang said bluntly, “so if you’re going to, I suggest you hurry and get it over with.”

His host rolled his eyes and exhaled a little more harshly than usual. Before that could deepen Krang’s anger too terribly much, though, he said, “So I’m kinda getting the vibe that you’re still a little tweaked by what I said before, that fair?”

“Whatever would give you that idea?” Krang bit out, tone light and icy.

“You mean besides the fact that you’re about as subtle as a trainwreck when you’re pissed?” his host asked. When the only response Krang gave was a glare, he shrugged and gave an airy gesture. “Because other than that, nothing in particular. When you’ve been a host as long as I have you just start to pick up on a few things, I guess.”

He gave Krang a look that was… he gave him a look. It wasn’t harsh or frustrated, but beyond those disqualifiers Krang couldn’t actually pin a definition to it. “So can we talk about it?”

A beat, then Krang gave a stiff nod.

“Thank you. I’ve got two points I wanna go through and then we can go from there, I guess, and I’m gonna need you to just bear with me a little with the first one here, okay?” His host moved and sat on the edge of the bed. “So alright, you remember back when I explained the whole ‘empathy’ sitch to you?”

Again, Krang nodded.

“Okay, well… I kinda simplified it a little when I first explained it. It’s not just feeling bad because someone else feels bad. It’s more like… it’s feeling bad because you can imagine how you would feel if you were in the other person’s place. So here comes the first point – I know Krang don’t put much/any stock in this, or… even feel it at all, I guess? But just simulate it with me for a second.”

Krang scowled. “What does this have to do with—?”

“Like I said, bear with me! Just… okay, Krang went around making other people like them, because you guys were trying to help, right? Because you were ‘stronger’? So, imagine for a second that situations are reversed: There’s a species even stronger than Krang – we’re imagining! We’re pretending! Stay with me! – and they’ve decided that they’re gonna change Krang to make them more like them. With— with emotions like me, and… pretty much all the rest of earth. Because ‘this is the RIGHT way to do things!’”

His host shifted a little, so he was leaning back more where he sat. “How do you feel about that?”

Krang stared at him, momentarily unable to wring words from his tongue. The proposed situation was ludicrous – in fact if it hadn’t been so insulting, it’d have been laughable. As it was—

As it was, he felt uncomfortable.

“Forcing your wretched emotions on Krang wouldn’t be ‘right’ though,” he finally forced out, wanting to stop the silence from stretching into something intolerable. “They serve no practical use. This is nothing like what the Krang had been working towards—”

“That’s my point,” his host cut in. “Obviously you’re going to think that, because that’s how you’re used to living. That’s what works for you. It’s shitty to imagine someone else swooping in and trying to tell you different, isn’t it? That’s how earthlings – and probably every other species you guys krangified – felt when you guys did it. It probably especially sucked for the ones who end up being mindless and feral for however many generations.”

“These emotions your kind are beholden to are nothing but a detriment on all fronts! We sought to improve other beings with our strength—”

“And in this scenario, there’s someone even stronger,” his host said. “They can and do beat you fair and square on all levels, and they say emotions are the way to go. By you guys’ logic, since they’re stronger, wouldn’t that mean they were the ones who’ve got it right? Would you be okay or grateful to get changed like that just because someone proved they were ‘stronger’ and said you had to?”

It had been a while since Krang had felt the hot, roiling sensation in his chest. It was far more unpleasant than he remembered. He was now more than uncomfortable; he felt sick.

He did not like this proposed scenario. He didn’t like the logic that existed within it.

He should hit him. Bite him perhaps, hard enough to make him bleed, hard enough to make him shut up and never think about mentioning this vile drivel again. All else aside he knew his pain-tolerance was higher than his host’s, he could take it, it couldn’t hurt to try—

he didn’t want to actually hurt him, he wanted him to shut up, how did he make him shut up without hurting him he wasn’t allowed to have a point after everything how could he make him shut up

“My second point,” his host went on, “and kinda the whole reason I needed to bring up my first point, is I’m—I’m sorry for everything that happened to you guys.”

The world didn’t turn for a second. Krang stared. It felt like several feelings were trying to happen at once – insult, confusion, yet more rage, something unidentifiable – but, unable to find the means to prioritize any singular one above the others, his mind had frozen and stopped working entirely.

“What you did when you guys got out the second time wasn’t cool,” his host abruptly asserted, almost like he was trying to establish something. “I don’t care how upset you were, you’re never gonna get me to back the idea that it was alright to take things out on people who didn’t even exist when the thing you’re mad about happened, but— just…

“The whole reason I brought up empathy is like… yeah, if it were me, and humans had put me and my bros through what you guys went through, for… beating Shredder or something, I don’t know, that was something good that still resulted in a lot of property damage, anyway – I’d also be pretty bitter after a thousand years. And I probably wouldn’t be too nice to any humans I happened to run o’cross once I finally got back out.”

He adjusted his weight on his bed again, his brow furrowing as his expression pinched. “We actually got a tiny taste of that already, a few years ago… Remember Stockboy? Yeah – he set us up as the ‘mutant menace’ that was out to hurt people and cause trouble when we’d literally only been trying to do good deeds. Got an actual mob after us, pitchforks and everything. That’s why Raph was so fed-up when he mentioned it again.” He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and muttered, “It sucked. A lot.”

There was a pause. Krang felt almost dizzy with the emotions flooding his system – there were his own, of course, which were too snarled and matted to do much with at present. But then there were also his host’s, which, as per usual, were even worse. They weren’t as tangled as Krang’s, but there were more of them. Trepidation and frustration and guilt and resignation and resistance and (nausea, which wasn’t an emotion but it was certainly there) somehow there was numbness—

“I can’t say I understand exactly,” his host said, “but I can guess, and… you guys didn’t deserve that. Not for trying to help, even if I don’t think you went about ‘helping’ the right way, either.”

Another pause. One that felt longer than it probably was. Presumably, his host had to fight every single emotion currently accosting him, by himself, unarmed, before he could continue.

Then, “You didn’t deserve that. And I’m… yeah. I’m just sorry.”

Krang was still… he wasn’t pleased. The emotions he’d held before his host had started the second half of his little speech were still viscerally present. But the heat they’d held had dissipated. Now even though the feelings were still there, they sat heavy at the bottom of his chest like burnt-out coals.

One thousand years spent watching everything he’d ever known get swallowed by an endless nothing, until there was nothing left behind but the hollowed-out husk of a purpose.

And his host was “sorry.”

It was an insult. All that, and he thought a simple condolence could make up for what had been done to Krang? Individually, as a whole, at all? He thought Krang could be mollified by empty words, was that it? Was he so stupid as to think it would be enough to garner Krang’s mercy once he was free of him?

One thousand years watching Krang maim and desecrate themselves until there was nothing left, desperate for release, for escape. One thousand years of being unable to do a single thing about it. One thousand years spent looking at his sister and brother, wondering if he’d wake one day to find them missing from their sleep-spots beside him, gone the same way as the others.

Finally thinking it was over, only to end up right back in the same place. Endless days trapped in the same devouring, empty abyss, alone without—

And Leo was sorry.

And the only thought Krang could force through his mind was, ‘what do I do now?’

 …it didn’t matter. He didn’t need— justification or condolences whatever tripe his host was trying to foist on him. Krang would make the whole planet ‘sorry’ by the time he was through with it. He didn’t care about the apology of a single, worthless earthling you do. It changed nothing it does.

Once he was reunited with his sister, he’d destroy this planet and all who inhabited it.

will you?

Chapter 24: Counting Chickens and Different Perspectives

Notes:

Shorter chapter this time around, but it mostly just exists to emotionally pull the main boys back from the heavy stuff they talked about last chap, so I guess that’s okay.

“Do Krang age at all?”

Krang didn’t respond immediately. Presently, he was sitting at the bottom of his host’s shell. He wasn’t sure what his host was doing outside of it, despite them both having been awake for at least an hour or so by this point. The… conversations from the day prior still rang loud in Krang’s head, and so he’d remained within his shell rather than crawling out to greet his host when he woke up.

Out of offense. Clearly.

“Why do you ask?” he finally parried back, deciding there was no point in pretending he was still unconscious. They could both tell when the other was or wasn’t asleep by now, whether they spoke to each other or not. Regardless, he wanted to know what he was getting into before he deigned to respond to his host’s inquiry. Particularly considering their last conversation.

His host shifted in a way that suggested he’d shrugged. “I was just… wondering, I guess. Like, I get from what you’ve told me already that you guys don’t pop out fully ready to rip, so that implies you’ve gotta grow at least a little. But I mean… you’re at least a thousand by this point, right? That ain’t exactly what you’d call a ‘normal lifespan,’ at least not ’round these parts—”

“It isn’t normal for Krang, either.”

“…oh.” A pause as his host waited for him to go on. When he didn’t, he tried, “What, um… what’s the deal with that then?”

A powerful bitterness bubbled up Krang’s throat it was still too soon to be talking about that place in any capacity yet—

“Beings who were put inside the prison dimension weren't there until they died,” he explained. “They were there unless they died.”

Another pause, and then his host coughed. “So… so if I’d stayed in the prison dimension with you, would I still be sixteen right now—?”

“You wouldn’t have made it to ‘right now,’” Krang blurted darkly. “Not if I had anything to say about it.”

It came out… more vitriolic than he’d meant it to. Or not vitriolic enough? He’d meant what he’d said, but somehow… he hadn’t meant to say it like he’d said it? Or perhaps he hadn’t meant to say anything at all? He was regretting he’d said anything at all? He couldn’t tell.

“…yeah,” his host said. “I guess on second thought I’d picked up on that.”

Whatever Krang’s misgivings were, they suddenly got worse. Which, in turn, made him all the more frustrated and fed up with his host, mostly for lack of anyone else to be frustrated or fed up with.

“Your suffering would have been brief, at least,” he offered stiffly. He had the oddest feeling that lashing out just then – rightfully or not – would only serve to make him feel still worse. “You wouldn’t have been subjected to languishing as I was, anyway.”

His host seemed like he wanted to ask something else. There was another pause, much more protracted than the first, wherein he seemingly fought with himself on whether or not to voice it. Krang waited, suddenly feeling tense for reasons he couldn’t immediately discern.

Apparently, however, the side of his host that was against asking whatever it was won the fight, because he suddenly pushed himself up from his bed without another word. There were the sounds of things being shuffled around, and then he called, “Hey Cuddlelumps, come out for a second, yeah?”

A bit thrown by the abrupt shift in topics (and unsure if he was further annoyed or relieved by it), Krang did so after yet another moment’s resistance.

His host was holding his… hm. In retrospect, Krang didn’t really know what it was. It was a device of some variety, a bit like his host’s phone, but bigger. And the screen was more horizontal, as opposed to the phone’s screen being vertical. There were colored sections on either side of said screen – blue and green (appropriately, Krang supposed), each with analog sticks and buttons.

“You remember how, right before we popped into Gemini’s, you were telling me you were bored because you don’t really have anything to do?”

Krang blinked at him, taken further off-guard. He did remember that, but only because his host had just reminded him of it. It was a little surprising, therefore, that his host had remembered it completely without prompting.

Apparently taking his silence to (rightly) mean that he did, in fact, remember, his host gestured just slightly with the device. “Bam! Solution right here! …sorta! I mean—”

He lowered the device, using the hand not holding it to rub the back of his neck. “It’s not like a real something to do, I guess, it’s like… you play videogames and stuff on it, y’know? So you are doing stuff, it’s just… pretend stuff.”

He shrugged a little sheepishly. “Still, it’s more… involved than watching videos or reading stuff on my phone, so I mean… it might scratch the itch?” He raised the device again, offering it to him. “You wanna try?”

Krang looked at the device, then back up to his host. He couldn’t help but suspect an underlying motive at play, albeit not one he could pinpoint the specific intentions of. Was this meant to be some sort of peace-offering, perhaps? A pointless attempt at comfort? Either option would be anywhere from mildly to grievously insulting, honestly, depending on the specifics his host was using to justify his actions. The timing of the gesture was highly questionable, anyway, considering the last conversation they’d had, and—

—and Krang was… tired. He’d put himself to sleep the night prior by mentally chasing himself in circles. And now that he was awake and once more aware that he still hadn’t actually resolved anything, he felt compelled to start again. Which he would, unless suitably distracted.

…he would accept this… this stupid, fumbling attempt his host was making, whatever his reasoning for it actually was. He didn’t especially want to entertain the concepts from the night prior, despite the fact that he apparently felt compelled to do exactly that.

Besides. Whatever insult that might exist in his host’s motivations changed nothing. Neither did what he’d brought up the night before. No reason to entertain the conversation any further, there was nothing that could be achieved by doing so. Nothing apart from probably giving the pair of them matching headaches, and he didn’t feel like weathering through that at the moment. He’d accept this distraction.

“What is a ‘video-game,’ precisely?” Krang asked, accepting the device to inspect it. He was slightly dismayed to realize how exhausted he already felt, despite having only just woken up.

Realizing he probably ought to specify, he added, “I’m aware it’s a simulation of sorts, based off what I’ve witnessed from my vantage point on your shoulder but… what’s the overarching goal? Is it to train coordination, or…?”

“No. I mean… some of the more boring ones, maybe, but mostly they’re just for fun.”

Krang huffed. “Doing nothing but burying yourself in scenarios that aren’t real counts as ‘fun’ to you people, does it?”

Again: Krang’s words were coming out more harshly than he intended (again: maybe, he still couldn’t decide). He was oddly relieved when his host took no offense, and instead simply said, “Sure does! I’d rank it top-ten best ways to spend my day, honestly!”

Krang managed to swallow what he had to say about that. He still wasn’t sure if that’s what he actually wanted to be doing. He felt consistently and deplorably off-center today.

Krang’s host actually needed to take the device back to turn it on and find a game he thought Krang would enjoy. He muttered to himself as he flicked through differently styled squares:

“Def not, cozy-games don’t really seem your style, and anyway it’s better on the computer with mods…” Flick. “Nope, might be kinda interesting to see your reaction to the mushroom-zombies, but I’d kinda rather not have horror-sounds and zombie-clicks right next to my ear for however long you play it…” Flick. “Too slow-paced,” flick, “too much story,” flick, “not enough story,” flick, “—oh. Ohoho yeah. This one.”

Krang stared. “…you rejected one because it was ‘too slow-paced,’ I highly doubt that that little thing could possibly somehow be more intense than—”

“Trust me,” his host insisted. “‘Intense’ is actually a good word for this one.”

(Under his breath, he added, “Here’s hoping you don’t rage-quit and destroy my Switch…”)

Krang rolled his eyes, but once more accepted the “switch” from his host. Cuphead it was, apparently, though his expectations for it were rolling around somewhere on the floor.

…it was a very, very rare moment that Krang was ever made to eat his own words. Even rarer that he wasn’t the slightest bit irritated with that fact. But the Cuphead videogame did indeed exceed his expectations, to the degree that he was too enthralled to be upset by it.

(It helped, perhaps, that his host didn’t seem particularly smug about being right. He just seemed oddly… happy. Strange.)

---

Mikey had volunteered the night before to take the first shift with Leo. There’d been a little mix-up or something yesterday, and everyone had thought the other guy had been with him. Raph was lowkey-highkey freaking out about it. Mikey didn’t understand why, really—

Well, sort of. He did understand why Raph was freaking out on a base-level: This was the Krang they were dealing with. The same Krang who’d put Leo through probably the worst beatdown he’d ever had. Raph – big bro extraordinaire that he was – was worrying about that guy being left alone with his little brother. The logic checked out.

But like… had he not been paying attention recently? Mikey sure had. Operation “drag Krang into the fold so he doesn’t feel like he NEEDS to beat the tar out of Leo” was coming along great from where he was standing. Mikey still hadn’t gotten him to open up yet, but Barry had been a tough nut to crack too! Time, patience, and consistent effort was key here!

Anyway. He was heading to Leo’s room to see if he was up, both to continue his efforts with Krang, and to help Raph relax a little on the whole situation.

Leo was indeed up— nnnehhh… he was awake. Not fully out of bed yet, but he’d def been awake for a minute yet. How did Mikey know? Because he was very attentively watching Krang playing his Switch.

Mikey felt like a parent who’d just walked in on their toddler achieving a milestone: Astounded, thrilled, and reluctant to draw attention to himself lest he spook or otherwise distract them. He was in the middle of a furious internal debate on whether or not to risk taking out his phone and capturing the moment, when Krang suddenly barked, “Who’s loitering in your doorway, Pest? I’m not wasting the focus it would take to look over…”

Leo looked over, and Mikey offered him a wave when their eyes met.

“Hey guys!” he said, walking further into the room. “Whatcha playing—?”

He got close enough to finally make out what was on the screen. He felt his eyes go big.

“Cuphead?! I love that game!” he cheered. (Which was true, even though it also was among the top five things in the world that could make him feel true, white-hot, blinding rage.) Inspiration striking him, he asked, “You guys maybe wanna set it up on the projector so I can watch you play?”

“That’s a good idea, actually,” Leo agreed, suddenly tilting his head over his opposite shoulder until there was a faint pop! “I’m getting a cramp from watching at this angle – let’s go.”

He stood up, moving towards the door. Krang grunted, his eyes still glued to the screen, and still furiously pressing buttons. “Fine, just don’t jostle me while you’re moving to set up whatever…”

Mikey smiled to himself, trailing after them. Operation “drag Krang into the fold” was definitely working its magic, baby!

---

Donnie was frustrated, and – if he may be open enough to say so – overwhelmed.

As much as he hated to admit it, as much as he’d railed against the fates with nothing but his technical genius to aid him, it was becoming increasingly obvious: Trying to locate the Spine-Breaking Bandit via surrounding security cameras was a dead-end. He wasn’t yet ready to stop trying to generate results, mind you, but his hopes in seeing his efforts bear fruit were dropping by the second. The idea of having to finally admit defeat and tell April all was for naught weighed heavily on his mind, and it was making him a gross combination of frenetic and nauseous.

On top of that, he had yet to divine anything of note from Krang’s spit. Which! Let the record show he’d uncovered numerous things about the Krang through his studies!: Said saliva had revealed to have similar properties to mouthwash, for example, and – if the very notion wasn’t completely disgusting – could probably be used as such if you had enough. Again, if the idea hadn’t been one of the nastiest, most ick-inducing concepts Donnie had thought of in the last three years, which it was.

Next, from what Donnie had been able to ascertain from his sample of DNA, Krang’s genetic makeup was similar to that of earthen fungi. Mostly. Apparently, being attached to Leo was affecting Krang’s genetics, if only marginally.

It made sense. Krang was growing off Leo, after all – stood to reason that he’d end up mirroring/absorbing something from him in the process. Donnie couldn’t think of any other explanation as to why there would be so many similarities between Krang’s DNA and the samples he’d taken from himself and the rest of his family throughout the years, anyway…

So yes, he’d definitely uncovered a variety of information regarding the Krang. It was just that… well, none of the information was especially useful. None of it could be used to separate Leo from the Krang, so it felt like he hadn’t really learned anything.

Donnie had been sitting at his desk, trying to will himself through the bout of immobility that the thought “nothing you’re doing is enough” was giving him. Unable to make himself move mentally, he latched onto the nearest physical sensation he could find: He was hungry.

He would get up, get himself a snack, and by the time he was done with it he’d have been hit with a bolt of inspiration, and have an idea of what to do next.

Hopefully.

En route to the kitchen, however, he heard yelling. Of the “egging on” variety, not distress-sounds. Unworried but nonetheless curious, Donnie followed them to the living room. He found Leo, Mikey, and—

—and Krang in front of the projector, playing a videogame??

Donnie looked on. The image continued to confuse and befuddle him. Finally, he said from the doorway, “Pardonne-moi, but um, whhhat’s happening here?”

“Cuphead,” Mikey provided bluntly, eyes not leaving the screen (as though Donnie couldn’t already see that).

Leo, also not looking at him, nodded. “Uno started a new save this morning.”

Donnie’s jaw dropped. Not simply for the fact that Krang had started a save-file for any video game (though that was part of it); it was more because—

“You started this morning and you’re already on Honeybottoms?!” he demanded.

“Speedrun, baby!” Mikey cheered.

“He’s on Expert, too!” Leo said, sounding a weird mix of astounded and incensed and oddly proud. “First time outta the box and he’s crushing this on Expert-mode! He doesn’t even have thumbs! I am not exaggerating even a little when I say I hate this guy—!”

“By all means, continue!” Krang suddenly cut in. Like Mikey and Leo, he didn’t bother to take his eyes off the screen. Though it was admittedly more justified in his case, as he was presently in the middle of furiously clacking away on the controller. “Your envy of my obvious superiority serves as potent motivation to continue being better than you!”

“Yeah yeah, keep your eyes on the bee, Cuddlelumps!”

“It’s an airplane right now, Pest!”

Finally (although only briefly), Mikey turned to look over his shoulder at Donnie, beaming. “Come sit with us!”

Donnie stayed right where he was for a moment more, then said, “I’m getting food first – anyone want a flavorless juice?”

“I’ll take some chips and guac!” Leo called over his (non-Krang-occupied) shoulder.

“That’s not what I offered,” Donnie said, turning to walk towards the kitchen.

He had to admit, things felt much less… dire, as of late. Less so than they’d felt a few weeks ago, anyway. Definitely less than they had months ago when this had all started. Which… it wasn’t… he hadn’t forgotten what Krang had tried to do (or what he did do, to Leo specifically), and he wasn’t deluded like Leo as to think everything was fine. It was just… well, Leo seemed content. Like actually content, not just his usual flavor of “I’m in the mix, so it’ll all be fine.” Call it a Twin Thing.

Important sidebar: Donnie and Leo weren’t actual, biological twins. Donnie knew this. It was important to him that everyone knew that he knew this. But… emotionally they were twins. It was the only time Donnie would ever allow emotions to take precedence over cold-hard facts, so savor the moment.

Ahem. Anyway.

Donnie didn’t put much (read: any) stock into the “twin telepathy” nonsense that Leo liked to go on about. Even if they had been biological twins, that wasn’t a thing. All the same, he felt tentatively confident in saying that he could sort of… sense that Leo was feeling calm about the present situation. Which, when didn’t he, provided nothing was actively attacking them, but it in turn made Donnie feel a little bit calmer. For as annoying as Leo’s ego could be, there were still points where it could actually be very reassuring.

Of course, there was a chance – a small one, but still – that he was just projecting his desire for Leo to be okay onto his seeming complacency. It wasn’t like he’d ever gotten a “sense” for how Leo was doing before any of this, be it good or bad, and of course the delusion Leo constantly lived under was still a very real factor here—

He suddenly heard Krang yell in that distinct “videogame took me by surprise and I just came very close to dying” –sort of way, followed by the sound of Leo cracking up.

…Krang had acknowledged Donnie’s brilliance earlier. And not in a sweet-talking, “I want something from you” way – it’d been quick and genuine-seeming. Surely anyone who would do that couldn’t be all bad, right?

Maybe… maybe things would actually be alright, no further action needed? Maybe (as seemed to usually be the case with Leo), this was yet another instance to side with emotions over logic…?

Mm, he thought, disgruntled as he took out the blender for his juice. Color me skeptical.

If nothing else, it’d be stupid to abandon what he’d been working towards over something as flimsy as “a feeling,” so he wouldn’t be doing that. He would stay his course and continue to try to find a way to separate Leo from Krang.

…but for now, at least, he deemed it safe enough to relax a little bit and enjoy a videogame with his brothers. Which would have been unthinkable a few weeks ago, so maybe that counted as data that his hopes weren’t as unfounded as he was afraid they may be.

---

Raph was stressing.

To start off, they’d dropped the ball yesterday. Raph had thought Donnie was going to be with Leo, Donnie had thought Mikey was, Mikey had thought Dad was— it’d been a mess. By the time they’d all realized their mistake, the Krang had had time to—

…okay, Raph wasn’t sure exactly what it had done/said, but Leo had been off yesterday, so it must’ve done something. He’d seemed extra blue (no pun intended, Raph would leave the bad puns to Leo, thanks), and just plain distracted during everything they’d tried to get him engaged with once they finally called him out of his room. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he was like that right after he’d had probably the most solid chunk of time alone with the Krang since Raph and everyone started taking shifts with them, right?

Right. So. So how did they undo whatever it’d done??

He didn’t know. Hence: Stress.

Also – making everything worse – the Krang had been talking a lot more often. Before, it’d only come out to yell when someone had said or done something to make it mad. Then after, even when it started being out pretty much all the time, it really only ever talked to Leo. Now, it would talk to everyone and anyone just because it could. It getting more comfortable couldn’t signal anything good, right?

RIGHT. Hence: Even more stress.

Raph entered the Lair feeling fried (in case the fact that he was out here using words like “hence” wasn’t enough of a hint). Work had been decent, if he was being honest (at least he hadn’t had to worry about Heather today). It was just that – with everything else going on – it’d still managed to suck the life out of him anyway. Which made the fact that he was technically about to clock into another “shift” of sorts now that he was home that much more exhausting.

Just to be clear, hanging out with Leo wasn’t the problem. Raph could spend all day with Leo and be fine. Under the right circumstances, Leo could help restore the life Raph might’ve previously had sucked out.

It was his undetachable add-on that was the problem.

Raph heard voices coming from the living room. Hopefully, that was the sound of whatever Donnie and/or Mikey was distracting Leo with. It sounded like there was more than one voice in the mix, which meant that unless Dad was doing something with Leo somewhere else, they’d flubbed again.

He walked over to enter the room, and stumbled to a stop.

“Omigoshomigosh you’re so close!! Whatever you do don’t miss a card now—!!”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Mikey don’t touch him!!”

“Sorry, sorry—!”

There was a furious clacking of buttons as Raph stared, dumbstruck at what he was looking at.

“DIE you stupid cube-headed, smug-faced, card-slinging—!”

“YOU DID IT!!”

Leo, Donnie and Mikey all started cheering loudly, with Mikey going so far as to throw his arms around Leo and the Krang both. It was too busy looking smug to be offended, like it usually would’ve.

“Dude that was incredible! You did so good, what even was that—?”

The Krang was grinning like it’d just bit someone’s throat out at Leo’s words. Raph felt slightly sick looking at it.

Mikey, meanwhile, was bouncing in his seat. “You’ve got one last boss to go and you beat the game!”

“I sincerely doubt the final ‘boss’ will be a match for me when all who’ve preceded it have failed. I’m not concerned.”

“Slow your roll there, Horchata – take a break and hydrate for a second why don’tcha, that was intense. Mikey do we have any soda’s left or anything?”

“I’ll go get some!”

Mikey popped up, then brightened as he finally noticed Raph standing in the doorway.

“Raph!” he said, smiling. “You’re home! How was work?”

Raph couldn’t answer. He was too busy watching the Krang slump and press into his brother’s neck, and his brother tilting his head to rest on top of it.

Notes:

I personally think that Uno would be good at games that rely on reflexes and timing and such, as I headcanon he intentionally honed his reflexes to be very good. Hence him killing it on Cuphead. (I additionally headcanon that his sister would be even better, if she ever had the chance to play these sorts of videogames, but that’s neither here nor there.)

Fun fact: The name/content of the chapter is a mirror to chapter 18!

Oh also I found this song, which fits this fic scarily well (or at least this first half), please listen to it.

Chapter 25: What Constitutes an Emotional Betrayal?

Leo woke up to the sound of a True Facts video playing next to his head. He blinked for a second or two, unsure of how much time had passed, and reflexively reached for his phone to check. It was only upon finding that it wasn’t where he last remembered leaving it that he

1. Registered that, no duh it wasn’t where he last left it, it was in use, and
2. Remembered the night prior, and the reason why it was presently in use.

Things just before they’d fallen asleep had been… fine. Uno had been doing like he’d said he would and helping Leo read some medical stuff. That was, he’d been reading to Leo. Which had been surprisingly enjoyable, even considering the dry subject-matter. Uno honestly had a really nice voice when you actually stopped to listen to it—

Fine! It’d just been fine! Not bad, not overly good, just an experience!

…thing was, eventually, they both passed out. And then Uno had another dream. The subject-matter had been… okay, all things considered, at least as far as Leo was concerned. It hadn’t involved the Prison Dimension (which was good for both of them), and it hadn’t involved the images of the Krangs of yore tearing apart random whosits. That’d happened a couple times. (Which counted as “fond memories” for Uno, but Leo had never been super into gore. So to him it was just gross).

The dream had been about Uno’s brother and sister talking. Like both of them, talking. Leo hadn’t known that was something his brother could even do (or ar least, he’d never heard him do it). It wasn’t… English they were speaking, or really any language Leo could say he recognized, but somehow he understood what they were saying anyway. Something about collecting bones and then covering them with Krang-growth to make a new animal? Interesting. Anyway, he probably had Uno to thank for being able to leap that language barrier.

Uno gave up looking for them faster than the first time this happened. He did still look, which had been hard to watch, it was just that he seemed to come back to reality quicker. And then just as quickly disappeared into Leo’s shell (and straight into denial, Leo couldn’t help but assume. Or something equally as unhealthy and like what Leo himself would do. And here he’d been counting on Uno to be above the influence).

Already fully aware of how unlikely it’d be for Uno to talk about anything, Leo had skipped directly to action: He’d taken both their butts out portal-jumping. It helped.

…a little? Maybe? It might’ve taken his mind off things for a minute, at least. Except he still seemed off once they finally got back home, and the parts that didn’t seem off seemed fake. Scrambling for a way to take at least a few pounds off the emotional weight of everything, Leo had suggested they watch some mindless YouTube videos to wind back down from their combined adrenaline rush.

They’d settled on – kinda already been spoiled up top, but whatever – more True Facts About [Insert Animal] videos. They’d watched the ones about owls, chameleons (shout-out to Mina?), and octopuses. This was the only one that’d managed to get Uno to visibly cheer up, if only for a second – octos had hecktalcuttle tentacles too. And yeah, it was more of a “and you balked and called it weird/I knew it wasn’t!” –kind of cheer-up, but it still counted. Still, funny little coincidence, yeah?

Leo had fallen asleep during one about “killer-surfing-snails,”  or at least that was the last one he had any memory of. Well, actually, the last memory he had was Uno comparing the snail’s… rad-doola? Was that the word? To something on a Krang. Leo’d apparently been fading fast at that point, because he couldn’t remember what exactly.

But that was the point: Leo had fallen asleep. The fact that Uno was still right where he’d left him (not that he could really go far right now, but still), doing the exact same thing he’d last seen him doing…

Can’t dream if he doesn’t sleep…

Leo supposed he should’ve seen this coming, maybe, considering all the… everything, lately. Or at least, all the everything he and Uno had been dealing with. Things had been… okay, the last few days. Thanksgiving was in a couple days, which meant everyone else was mostly focused on getting that organized. Meanwhile, Leo had been a little surprised at how well his sort-of peace-offering of videogames to Uno had worked to smooth out the… not tension or awkwardness exactly. Leo didn’t really have a word for whatever had been going on between them after the whole “the Krang were actually trying to help, in their own fucked up, traumatizing way (or at least, they were back before they’d been imprisoned)” –debacle.

What Leo did know was that if he thought about it for too long, he’d be hit with a sort of jittery nauseousness that he didn’t know what to do with. Thinking about it meant getting slapped in the face with the fact that he no longer knew where to go from here.

Did he let things go on the grounds of “I feel like I know you well enough to vet that you were well-intentioned before, and went through some heavy shit afterwards, so what the hell let’s just call it square”? He wasn’t allowed to do that, was he? It’d be one thing if he had been the only one Uno had hurt during the invasion. If it had just been him, he would’ve had the final say on whether he could give him a pass or not. But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t the one who’d been abducted and brainwashed. He wasn’t the one who’d looked horrified and disgusted when he found his brothers playing videogames with the guy who’d ordered the brainwashing. He wasn’t the guy who’d be getting betrayed by his younger brother siding with that same guy.

Oh gee. The jittery-nausea was back. Fun.

Uno. Uno was having bad dreams again, and that made sense— uh. Well not bad dreams, but that was the problem. Sorta? More like… sad dreams. “I don’t want to wake up from this” –dreams. Whatever – it made sense considering the heavy subject-matter that was probably still sitting on his mind the same way it was Leo’s. Probably brought back thoughts of how things were before, and wanting to go back to them.

Should Leo… comment on that? Bring it up, somehow? Not directly, obviously – Uno wouldn’t respond well to that. Funny thing, really – as much as Leo got called a bonehead, his skull wasn’t nearly as hard as Uno’s when it involved talking about vulnerabilities (and Uno didn’t even have a skull, make that make sense). But if he could phrase things the right way, maybe he could convince him to take a nap or something…?

“What were you saying last night?” Leo asked instead, stretching Uno’d probably refuse a nap on principle, whatever reasoning he offered, let’s be real. “Last thing I remember was snails and you saying something about radoolia?”

“Radula,” Uno corrected (pff, close enough). “It’s how snails eat. Their entire mouth is essentially filled with thousands of tiny teeth that cut and grind up food in place of chewing.”

Leo was about to comment something to the effect of “oh yeah, pretty cool,” but then he went on, “I’d been telling you that the premise was essentially what was happening within Krangs’ ovipore during mating. Which, fine, the snails are using it to eat, not mate, but again. The premise.”

“…oh,” Leo said. The phrase “fleshy, fleshy sandpaper” came floating back to him suddenly; turns out he did remember a little bit about that. “That’s… cool.”

“Only during the mating period, though,” Uno clarified contemplatively. Then, “Always feels bizarre when they form for the season… never got used to it.”

…and on that borderline-TMI lore-drop, Leo decided it was time to get up and get going for the day!

“Gonna have to put this down for a second, Horchata,” he said, taking his phone back as he pushed himself up out of bed. “I’mma go shower.”

Uno huffed, put out by the removal of the phone from his tentacles. “You did that last night before you went to bed…”

“And if the bathroom’s free I’ll do it before I go to bed again tonight!” Leo said proudly, plugging his phone in to charge (battery was in the red after playing vids all night). “I’m a turtle, whaddya want?”

Uno grumbled some more. But he retracted back into Leo’s shell as he did it, so Leo let him.

The Lair had four bathrooms, all converted from the restrooms of old that had been built into the subway tunnel before it was abandoned. Three of them were “fair use,” and one was basically inhabited solely by Dad. This had been agreed on by everyone when they first moved in after the whole thing with Shredder: Dad could pick a bathroom that he’d get sole dominion over. He’d never have to worry about one of his sons taking up residence in one when he desperately needed to pee. (As was statistically likely, considering there were four of them and one of him.) In return, none of them would have to worry about rat fur being all over the spot they were trying to get clean in, or deal with it clogging up all their drains.

(Or have to deal with him deciding “I don’t care that you’re showering or on the pot, I raised and bathed you for the first years of your life, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I need [insert ointment or something] so I’m coming in!”)

The one Leo was headed to wasn’t his, explicitly, but it was the one he used most often, and the one his toothbrush typically lived in. He technically shared with Raph (Mikey and Donnie had unofficially claimed the other two as “theirs,” respectively), but this was strategic. Leo had deemed sharing a worthy sacrifice if it meant getting regular access to the biggest tub. Which, since Raph tended to go to bed earlier than him, meant he’d had some bangin late-night bubblebaths. Got to chill in there as long as he wanted.

Not that that was what he’d be doing now. Baths were relaxation-zones, and Leo was trying to pump himself up for the day.

“What does you being a turtle have to do with you showering?” Uno asked suddenly. Leo allowed it on the technicality that they weren’t actually in the bathroom yet.

“We usually hang out in water,” he replied. “Or at least, the non-mutated ones do. And the rest of us love a good soak, but that’s presumably why.”

“…hm,” Uno said. “Quite similar to Krang, actually…”

Leo raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder slightly to give Uno a look he was pretty sure he couldn’t actually see at present. “Whaddya mean? Were you guys water-babies too, orrr…?”            

Uno didn’t respond for a second. Then, slowly, he said, “It’s… the Krang were mostly aquatic back before we began assimilating other lifeforms. So I’ve heard, anyway—”

“‘So you’ve heard’?”

“It was thousands of years before I was even born, Pest, how old do you think I am?”

“’Least a thousand years older than me, ya fossil.”

Uno ignored the crack. Sounding kind of pensive, he said, “I haven’t experienced water in any capacity since… anyway. I can’t truly say I remember what it feels like.”

Leo got to the bathroom and entered the shower, which meant Uno stopped talking. That was fine, Leo decided as he fiddled with the water temp. He needed a second to process.

He’d forgotten what water felt like??

Listen, maybe it was just because Leo was, A-GAIN, a turtle, considering turtles and water typically went together like cheese and tomatoes, but that was one of the saddest things he’d ever heard. Leo required one shower a day minimum to keep his mental health afloat (as leaky as that particular boat was). Repeat, minimum. More was always preferable. The idea of going without one for so long that he forgot how it felt to be wet was nothing short of horrifying.

He had a choice to make here – the problem was the choice sat between “do nothing and let someone continue to exist in a state that he would personally consider to be borderline-torture,” and “do the right thing, but ‘the right thing’ is extremely awkward.”

Slowly, Leo glanced down, worrying his bottom lip and staring at the water running down his legs and towards the drain. Realistically, could Leo really try to request any kind of privacy from the guy who’d been with him literally every second of the day for months? Especially when, in all fairness, it wasn’t like he’d actually be able to see anything on Leo presently? It wasn’t like with humans, who let everything all hang out 24/7. Leo’s embarrassing bits were nice and tucked away and very much not visible at the moment.

On the other hand, were they at the point where Leo was cool with him seeing him naked, even if he didn’t see much? Because in or out, it wasn’t— you can’t just— it felt like a big deal. It felt like a big, embarrassing, very very awkward deal. Or something that would require a lot more maturity than Leo had in him at the moment. 

…Uno had just had a really rough night…

UGGGH him and his stupid ability to care about other people—!

“Hey Cuddlelumps, why don’t you um— why don’t you come out for a minute?”

There was a pause (Leo’s nervousness spiked in the silence), then, “…I thought I was to, and I quote, ‘never come out, never speak to you, and basically pretend I’m a figment of your imagination’ whenever you’re in the… oh, help…”

“Bathroom. And that still stands, unless I talk to you first. Which I am, so…”

Another pause. “Does this have anything to do with the spike of negativity you were feeling a bit earlier—?”

“Yep, so how’s about you be a pal and distract me from it?”

“Are you—?”

“Just come out,” Leo blurted exasperatedly, rolling his eyes. When he still didn’t feel Uno move, he added, “Quickly, please, before I change my mind!”

Slowly, Uno did begin to move, at which point Leo panicked. “Just— just don’t look down, okay? Eyes up until I’m out of the shower.”

Another pause (Leo heard him mutter “wh—? why—? oh nevermind…”), and then he finished climbing out of Leo’s shell. He stopped once he physically registered there was water hitting him. He didn’t look… stressed or upset or anything, so Leo wasn’t exactly concerned, but…

“You good, Tentacruel?” he asked. His nerves/awkwardness weren’t forgotten, exactly, it was more he was able to curb all of it temporarily as he got to the bottom of… whatever this was.

“…mm,” Uno said, clearly buffering. “I’m… this is…”

 He slowly went lax, settling in comfortably against Leo’s neck, then sighed.

Leo’s awkwardness was unceremoniously creamed by a passing bus as it waited on the curb he’d left it at. Taking its place was a warm, glowing sense of accomplishment. 

“Alright, note to self,” Leo said, grinning and bumping the side of his head against Uno’s, “‘be sure to water your Krang at least once a day.’”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious, Pest.”

“I am, yeah, thank you for noticing!” Feeling pleased with himself and in the mood to call a bluff, he asked, “You saying you don’t want more of this after we’re done here?”

“…I didn’t say that,” Uno said stiffly.

Uh huh. That’s what Leo thought. 

He must’ve picked up on Leo’s smugness through their link, because he slouched down further. Pouting! He was pouting! He could call it whatever he wanted, but after all their time together Leo had his number now, and he was being a big ol’ Pouty-Pants!

"You'd be dumb to say something like that," Leo asserted, not bothering to hide the smile that was still on his face. "A thousand years without water. No wonder you’re always so cranky.” 

He heard Uno stifle a snort, and he poked him lightly in the jaw.

Sometime later, Leo prompted, “So them octopuses, yeah? I remember that one. If it weren’t for all the suckers and the fact that they don’t look like something out of Minecraft, I’d’ve said you guys looked related.”

He was trying to wake Uno up, honestly. Leo was trying to wake up, it was way harder to do that when his other half was getting comfy and sleepy (through hey, idea for the nap concept later).

Uno snorted again, more derisively (if impassionately) this time. “It wishes. The only similarities between it and Krang are the hectocotylus and the fact that it’s got superior intellect amongst its kind – relative term, you understand.”

Leo shrugged. “The whole ‘changing color and texture’ –deal was kinda cool – can you do that?”

“Why on earth would I – or any Krang for that matter – want to—?”

He stopped. For so long, in fact, Leo was slowly starting to get concerned. Because um? What’s going on with that?

Then, almost making Leo jump, Uno blurted, “Wait a minute…”

---

The Stock&Shop was deplorably busy. As might be expected, perhaps, considering it was a mere two days before the humans’ annual feasting holiday, “thankgiving.” Draxum, for as much as he preferred to avoid throngs of humans, had been left little choice but to venture out into one such exact crowd.

The rat liked to brag about his “famous green bean casserole” every year, and would consistently throw back-handed compliments at Draxum’s cranberries. No longer! Not this year! Draxum would construct the most tantalizing, delicious side-dish anyone in this family had ever experienced, mark his words!

But first, he needed to acquire ingredients.

Presently, he stood in the cheese aisle, inspecting and comparing bricks of the stuff. April had, ahem, “hooked him up” with a family recipe for mac’n’cheese for the occasion. According to her, it was what she made every year for her human-family’s gathering, and it was a universal crowd-pleaser. Since she and her mother were going to celebrate the feast-day with other relatives over in Connecticut (as they did every year), she didn’t see any harm in giving him the recipe to share with the rest.

(Draxum liked the idea of defeating the rat with a recipe involving cheese. How gloriously ironic it would be.)

He’d left his freshly re-acquired gargoyles in charge of overseeing his latest batch of experiments. Hopefully that wouldn’t reveal itself to be too much of a mistake. Huginn and Muninn weren’t… incompetent, per se, it was more they had a tendency towards laziness, and would sometimes take liberties with the instructions he gave them. Ostensibly, because they thought they’d found something they could improve on and were trying to please him, but…

He’d given very strict orders to not touch anything apart from removing a sample from the heat of the burner he’d left it on when a timer he’d set when off. Otherwise, all they had to do was keep an eye on things. It was a task that ought to be perfect for them – it involved doing the absolute minimum. Obviously, if something looked to be going egregiously wrong they were to contact him immediately, but he didn’t foresee that being something they’d have to—

“Boss!”

Draxum dropped the Colby-jack he’d been holding, his spine going ramrod straight. Knowing what he was going to see before he even looked (but dreading it nonetheless), he slowly turned to his right, a grinding noise practically audible in the background, and—

Mm-hm. There were his goyles, grinning awkwardly as they flapped next to him. Muninn gave him a small wave of greeting when he finally locked eyes with them.

Reflexively, Draxum snatched them both out of the air, lest they draw attention to themselves.

“What,” he demanded, looking from one to the other as he held one in each hand, “are you doing here?”

“Okay, so: Your timer went off, and we turned the burner off, just like you said,” Huginn explained, unbothered by the fist he was currently being gripped in, “but then the stuff started like…”

He paused, then turned to Muninn. “Would you say it was more bubbling or fizzing in this case?”

“Kinda a mix of both,” Muninn said, tilting his head contemplatively (his cheek smushed against Draxum’s thumb). “It didn’t seem like that was what it was supposed to be doing either way.”

“Yeah, definitely seemed weird,” Huginn agreed, turning back to Draxum. “So we thought it might be safer to, um… come tell you…?”

“You fools,” Draxum hissed. “The fact that to ‘come tell me’ would necessitate that you reveal yourselves in an area crawling with humans never occurred to—?”

“Excuse me?”

All three of their heads snapped towards the source of the voice. A human – elderly, mustachioed, and balding on top – stood staring at them.

Draxum stared back, mouth dry, but before he could offer any sort of explanation for the talking gargoyles he held, the human smiled. “Sorry to be pushy, but is there any possibility I could grab some cheddar and mozzarella behind you?”

Draxum blinked, glancing back at the cheeses he’d previously been inspecting, then looking back. Slowly, he moved out of the way.

“Thank you!” the human said cheerfully, moving forward to inspect the selection. “Homemade mac’n’cheese is just about the only thing one of my granddaughters will eat at Thanksgiving— well. Mac’n’cheese and a buttered roll. She doesn’t like turkey or stuffing, or even mashed potatoes really – she likes the taste fine, but the texture makes her gag. She’s autistic, you see, so that’s always a big thing for her when it comes to food – texture. So if Grandpa doesn’t bring her mac’n’cheese, the poor thing won’t have anything for dinner besides rolls.”

The human found the cheeses he wanted, then added far more than Draxum would’ve expected he’d need for a single batch of mac’n’cheese. Based off what he himself was getting for April’s recipe, anyway…

Apparently noticing the look he was getting, the human smiled at him once more. “I have a… well, I’d say a friend, but I feel like she’d call me presumptuous for that. But I suppose she isn’t here right now, so why not – I have a friend who’s going to be alone for the holiday. Since I’ll be out with my family, I wanted to at least leave her with something homemade she could enjoy. I’m making an extra batch just for her. I do it every year.”

As he finished loading his cart with cheese, he said, “I’m Joe, by the way, have I said that out loud yet? Joseph Xeinos.”

Generally, when humans provided their name to a stranger, they expected to get said stranger’s name in return, or so Draxum had learned. Not wanting to push the human’s tolerance (he was presently still standing there with a gargoyle in each fist), he replied brusquely. “Draxum. Baron— ahem, Barry Draxum.”

Xeinos’s eyes drifted down to Huginn and Muninn, and Draxum’s heart skipped a beat.

“Those are some very nice dogs you have there!” he said in a… particularly pointed sort of way, Draxum couldn’t help but notice.

Huginn, clearly trying to grab the line they’d just been thrown, loudly declared, “Woof woof!”

As in, he said the words “woof woof.” Enunciated and everything. Which, though frustrating, did put him a step ahead of Muninn. Presumably panicked, he blurted out “meow!”

As Draxum internally withered and died, Muninn, realizing his mistake, corrected himself with a sputtered, “I mean— bark bark!”

(Again, fully enunciated words, not simple onomatopoeias.)

Against all odds, though, the human didn’t seem to notice these glaring missteps. He simply smiled and nodded as though he truly was observing two average human pets. Perhaps he was simply senile…?

“I wouldn’t recommend keeping them with you here in the store,” he said, looking back to Draxum. “An employee or fellow customer might take exception to them and ask you to leave. But all the same, they seem very nice!”

Continually unsure of what to make of the human, Draxum mumbled acquiescence.

Xeinos when on, “My friend – not the one I’m making mac’n’cheese for, mind, a different friend – had a dog like this, too. Bit bigger than the ones you’ve got, but the same… breed, I suppose you’d say. Very rambunctious creature, if I’m remembering correctly.”

Under his breath enough where Draxum could still hear him, but surrounding humans would not, he added, “Used to run full-force at fallen trees whenever they’d go on walks. Split the things straight down the middle with his face. I used to visit them all the time in the city they lived in. Can’t remember the name of it for the life of me – old age, you know – but I do remember it was very hard to get to. My friend used to joke they were hiding it.”

And he threw Draxum a private smile.

Draxum stared, and it took everything in him to keep his jaw from going slack.

“Well!” Xeinos said suddenly. “I’d best get to gettin’! Lot of cooking ahead of me, don’t want to leave it for the last minute! Happy Thanksgiving, Barry!”

He gave a final smile, headed off towards the pasta aisle.

The three of them watched him go, frozen in their shock. At least until Huginn let out an exaggerated “phew!” going limp in Draxum’s grip and laughing a bit.

“Man, how clueless can you get?” he asked. “I thought we’d be busted like ten times over during that whole thing!”

“I know, right?” asked Muninn, doing the same. “Still, nice guy at least.”

“Yeah, very nice! That thing about his granddaughter was so cute!”

Draxum slumped to stare imploringly at the ceiling, listening to the two chatter about nothing and miss the point on a near cosmic level, as was usual for them.

---

Little thing about Mikey’s Mystic Hands: Using them involved grabbing at “fissures” in reality, whatever the heck that meant. Basically, if you grabbed at the little mystic cracks that existed within all time and space, then you could temporarily pull them apart to open portals to different places/times. Or at least, that’s how it’d finally been explained to Leo after he’d gone wall-eyed from Mikey trying to repeat how Draxum had told it to him. Granted, Leo’s understanding on how the application of that whole process worked was still a little spotty, but eh. Not like he’d be needing to pull apart the fabric of reality with his bare hands anytime soon.

Mikey had tried to draw comparisons to Leo’s portal-making, which hadn’t connected either. Leo didn’t need to feel out any “fissures” to portal, he just needed his swords. Well, his swords and a mental picture of where he was trying to go, whether that was a few feet ahead of him or across the country. Just slicing away to go somewhere, anywhere, usually took him to very weird and very scary places.

There was also sort of… not rhythm, exactly, but he wasn’t really sure how else to describe how to make portals work properly. Maybe frequency worked better? Like he’d noticed his swords would hum when he used them, and the more he tuned into that, the more proficient his portalling was. Which – he felt like he’d gone on-record about this before, oh well here he went again: He’d gotten really good at! Not to toot his own horn or anything, but y’know (jk, toot-toot!).

But anyway! Getting off track here! The point was, by virtue of the nature of Mikey’s powers, he’d gotten good at feeling out stuff like that. Which, incidentally, made him really good at finding entrances to the Hidden City. Draxum had never specified it was because the entrances were basically portals to another dimension when he’d first started teaching Mikey all this; at the time it had just seemed like some sort of wayfinding, water-witching-esque perk to the whole thing. Hindsight, right?

They’d called April for an emergency meeting, then hopped a bus. Mikey was able to mystically water-witch them over to another dumpster-portal behind some apartment buildings once they got where they were going.

To the Hidden City…!

Now, in Leo’s experience, there was a lot of variety in the Hidden City, to the point he hesitated to call it a city. There was just too much stuff to try to squeeze it all under that heading. There were some kind of familiar scenery, here and there – big, tall buildings and lots of tourist traps, stuff similar to what you’d see in New York – but there was also huge swaths of jungle wilderness with joey-pouch-having birds wandering around. Ports and seaside homes. Old-timey witch-towns. Just a whole assortment of stuff.

They all ended up dropping down beside one of the previously mentioned seaside homes, which sort of served as a teaching experience for all of them. See, back home, any sort of ocean-view property would’ve been ritzy. Even if it’d been small, it would’ve been spruced up as much as possible in hopes of turning a profit on people who’d pay anything if it meant getting to wake up near the beach.

The house they dropped in next to was a shack, and that was being generous. Talk about culture-shock. Still, so far everything was lining up.

Leo took point as they all moved towards the house, and knocked on the door.

There were sounds of movement from inside the shack, but no one answered. Leo knocked again. Still no answer. Leo knocked a third time—

“What do you want?”

The door had been wrenched open just enough for the occupant to look out and see who was bothering them. Leo’s heart skipped a little at the sliver of yokai he could see peeking out at him from the crack in the door.

“Hi, sorry to bother you,” Leo began, smiling apologetically, “it’s just that we were sort of looking for someone? And we think you might be him.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not, kid,” the guy snapped. Uno, who was sitting on Leo’s shoulder, glared at him for his impertinence. “Go away.”

“Are you sure?” Leo asked, reaching up discretely to pat Uno’s tentacle calmingly. Not yet. “We really need to find who we’re looking for. Have you been up to New York in the last month or so, maybe?”

Leo’s expression shifted just slightly. “Break any spines lately?”

The guy stared at him for a second, frozen, horrified, and then slammed the door shut.

Too bad for him, they had a Raph, and he slammed the door back open.

Everyone pushed in through the now ruined doorway, drawing their weapons as a precaution, and looking down at the yokai now groaning in the rubble of what was formerly his front door. It was an octopus, just like Uno had guessed. There was gonna be no talking to him after this, was there—?

“You got a lot of people over in NYC pretty flustered, buddy,” Leo said lightly, glancing around the room as Raph hauled him up and held him by the scruff of his shirt a couple feet off the floor. The house was presumably only two rooms, with the one they were standing housing a kitchenette, a bed, and two card tables (one for dining, one to hold up a small yokai-tv-equivalent). There was a door on the back wall, which hopefully led to a bathroom or something, and wasn’t just a closet. Leo didn’t want to think about how the guy got around not having a toilet if it was a closet.

The whole place was filthy. Definitely gave off screaming “I’m not happy with my life, so I’m opting to take it out on other people!” –vibes. Which Leo might have chastised himself for thinking – profiling, and all that – if not for the fact that the cleanest stuff in the whole place was a neatly arranged pile of random junk.

Leo’s nose wrinkled momentarily as he took note of what was in the pile, disgusted, but he smoothed out his expression as he went on, “The Spine-Breaking Bandit never leaves fingerprints, never forces entry. Seems to poof away as soon as their done committing their crime—”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” the guy snapped, apparently coming out of the daze that getting slapped by his own front door had put him in. He started struggling in Raph’s grip. “Get the twelve-hells out of my house! I’m calling the HCPD for breaking and entering and for destroying my Council-damned front door—!”

“Real funny thing, though,” Leo went on, ignoring him. “Humans have to work really hard to not leave any fingerprints in places, ain’t that right, April? And they can’t just poof.” He leaned in closer to Mr. Octo, whose struggles faltered to a stop as his space got invaded, and gave him a hard look. “Guys like you, though? No fingers! No prints! No bones to stop them from squeezing into nooks and crannies to get in or out of apartments, either! Not quite a go poof-moment, but pretty close! And your whole— wait, wassitcalled… ‘environmental mimicry’ –thing probably made it a lot easier to blend it with whatever apartment you snuck into, yeah? Get the jump on whoever was in there?”

“I’ve never even been to the human world!” the guy spat, glaring at Leo (and pushing back a little in Raph’s grip to try to create some space between them, even if that ended up bringing him closer to Raph).

Leo raised an eyebrow. “No? That’s interesting…” Lazily, he turned his head to look at the pile of miscellaneous junk over in the corner. It was the only part of the house that looked to be getting cleaned regularly. “Care to explain how you ended up with a flatscreen, an iPhone – outdated, by the way, you should really upgrade – and— huh! Look at that! A PS5!” 

He looked back at the guy, giving a smile with no weight behind it. “We heard the funniest story about a PS5 recently, talk about coincidence!” His smile dropped. “Funny thing, though… last I checked, you couldn’t get ’em in the Hidden City. Kind of a ‘human-exclusive’ type-thing, really. And it’s not plugged into anything, so I can tell you haven’t been playing it… whatcha have it for, then?”

The guy had gone completely still again. He was staring at Leo, wide-eyed and frozen, and clearly mentally scrambling. 

Finally, he went limp. In the most scathing, venomous voice Leo had heard in at least a few months (this guy’s coming for your title Uno, watch out), he asked, “How’d you find me?” Then, “Are you with the cops?”

“Nope, just a bunch of amateur sleuths with way too much time on our hands. We’re looking to adopt a talking Great Dane as we speak,” Leo said, grinning again. “New York’s kinda our town, and we didn’t really appreciate your whole shtick.”

As the Bandit sneered, Leo jerked his thumb in Uno’s direction. “And you can thank this guy for us finding you. He was the one to realize ‘hey, maybe the reason this crook is so hard to catch is because they’re not human, and playing by rules humans can’t.’”

Feeling weirdly proud in spite of himself (that was his parasite who’d worked this all out!), he added, “He even guessed right that you were an octopus.”

He could see Uno smirking viciously in his peripheral vision. And y’know what? Hell yeah buddy, you earned the right to be smug here. 

Leo kept talking: “If you weren’t a human, that meant you had to be a yokai. If you’re a yokai, it means you’re probably hiding out in the Hidden City when you weren’t out spine-breaking. Hiding out in the Hidden City, you need a way back and forth. We’d managed to track you to East Harlem on the human side of things before we lost your trail, so on a hunch we went over there and felt around for any spots you might be popping in and out of. Aaand look at that! We struck paydirt!” 

He leaned in a little again, though he didn’t invade his space as much this time. “Level with me here – was there a way into the Hidden City into that apartment you ducked into that one time? When you stole the PS5?” A scoff, glancing back at The Pile. “If you even remember that – from the looks of it you’ve done this a lot—”

“I remember every hit I ever did!” the Bandit snapped, sounding oddly offended. Then, a little sulkily, “And yeah, there was. Behind the fridge.”

“Hm,” Leo said, glancing at Mikey. “What a simple answer.”

(Draxum had said before that the mystic-mojo of the Hidden City would drive humans away from its entrances, which would probably start to get real stressful when that entrance was located where you were trying to, y’know. Live. Someone should let poor Jenny know.)

Mikey rolled his eyes and stuck out his bottom lip, but didn’t respond. 

Leo looked back to the Bandit. “Really, all we’re missing here is a motive-rant. So whaddya say, you got one of those for us?”

The Bandit stared back at Leo, hard, incredulous and offended. 

“C’mon,” Leo wheedled, “you’ve been doing this for almost a decade, you’ve gotta be dying to spill some deets on the how’s and why’s on everything…”

The Bandit held his gaze for another second or so, then glanced to the side, contemplating. 

“They’re just… stupid, y’know?” he finally said, looking back. Glancing around at everybody, expression pinching, he said, “All of you, and everyone else who needs bones to stay upright! They’re not necessary, and you’re all idiots for acting like you’re better just because YOU need them!”

Getting worked up now, he went on, “And humans specifically are the worst! They have a whole hierarchy— did you know they keep beings like me in–in these freakshow, slave-camp type things?? For other humans to come gawk at—??”

“Do you mean aquariums?” April asked, squinting in confusion. “Because those octopuses don’t talk…”

“One of them is still worth a thousand of you!” The Bandit snapped. He suddenly rounded on Uno, looking frustrated and furious. “How can you stand to be associated with these people?! Don’t you have any pride?!”

(Uno blinked at him, taken aback and confused. Clearly, he hadn’t expected to be catching strays during this encounter. He glanced at Leo, and then around to the rest of the group. ‘What’d I do??/is this guy for real??’ rang out silently in his expression. Most everyone rolled their eyes with him, affirming his bewilderment and indignation.)

 “So… let me get this straight,” Donnie cut in, lest he verbally attack their Krang anymore than he just had, “you’re saying your entire modus operandi is based on racism towards vertebrates…?”

“And humans!!” the Bandit insisted. 

“Right, yes, of course— ‘and humans.’ How dare I forget,” Donnie agreed, deadpan and disgusted and moving to stand just a bit closer to April (who was aggressively unimpressed, please note).

“Any particular reason you went after guys specifically?” Mikey asked. 

The Bandit scoffed. “The females are usually more aware of their surroundings. Not always, but usually. Enough for it to be annoying. They’d notice me casing them out as I got ready for my Fun-Week and their guards would go up. But men? Pfft.” (He blew out a dismissive puff of air, making the tentacles hanging in front of his mouth briefly billow out.) “Barely ever noticed a friggin’ thing – never pay any attention. They think they’re invincible, all of ’em.”

He suddenly got a wistful look in his eye, like an old, happy memory had just come floating back on the wind. “That’s how we got this one guy a couple decades back – me and my boys, y’know. Hardest thing I ever did was taking that plea deal to put them away. Anyway – we got that guy in a grocery store parking lot, he never saw it coming. Had him for months.”

His expression darkened suddenly, frustrated. “It’s why I even started going to New York in the first place. That guy’s son moved out here, thought I’d give him the treatment too, y’know, for completion’s sake. But he’s some high-powered fancy-pants, and it’s too dangerous to try to go after him.” 

Disgust wasn’t a strong enough word for what Leo was feeling just then. What he was feeling was white-hot, and working its way down his limbs. He knew instinctively that everyone else felt it too. He could probably get away with going off-script and just skewering this guy, right—?

Leo’s feelings must’ve shown on his face, because the Bandit sneered, “Aww, what’s amatter? You mad?” Smugly, he said, “Why don’t you go slob a human’s knob and make yourself feel better since you love them so much…?” He cast a hateful glance at April. 

Leo’s body twitched to unsheathe his katanas, because how dare this filth so much as even look at April—

He stopped short of actually doing so by April coldly asking, “There a reason you only went after guys who lived alone? Well… mostly, anyway?”

The Bandit glared. “That one guy was a fluke,” he said. “His stupid roommate never left the damn apartment. I spent weeks watching the one guy, and never saw anyone else go in or out of that unit. Lousy jerk almost got me caught!”

He calmed just slightly. “It’d be too dangerous to go after people who might have backup around. Going after guys who lived alone meant I didn’t have to worry about other people catching sight of me, or coming in to try to fight me off. Obviously.” Under his breath (though still too loud, in Leo’s opinion), he muttered, “Dumb fuckin’ boney…”

The white-hot feeling surged up and down Leo’s limbs again (Uno’s tentacles tightened around his shoulder, and he could feel his glare simmering next to his own). The Bandit laughed suddenly, oblivious.

“Best part! No human will ever believe any of you! Not without proof, and you’d need to out yourselves to do that! I’ve told you everything and you can’t do a damned thing about it!”

“You don’t think us hauling you into the NYPD and slapping you onto their front desk like an overdue report won’t count as ‘proof’?” Raph clarified.

“Uh, couple issues there, shellhead: I know who you all are. EVERYONE in the Hidden City knows who you bozos are. You’re the guys Big Mama was beefing with a couple years back, who she tried to broadcast getting snuffed. You’re the ones who live with the humans. You turn me in to them, and it means they’ll be on the lookout for you. I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be one mistake away from getting hunted and killed in the street like dogs for the rest of your lives.”

“How about if we just take you over to the Hidden City police?” Mikey asked. “They reeeally don’t like it when yokai go up and hurt humans – ask Draxum.”

The Bandit’s smug expression faltered for a second. Only a second, though. “They can’t do anything to me without proof, which you don’t have. If they even believed you in the first place. You can’t touch me.”

“There are three slight problems with that…” Donnie interjected, ticking things off on his fingers: “One: We’ve caught you in possession of a literal mountain of evidence linking you to these crimes, none which you seem to have any ready explanations for. Two: Your violent past discredits you further, and is presumably well-documented, considering you mentioned needing to take a plea deal. And three, even if the police somehow managed to dismiss both of the aforementioned on the grounds that they’re ‘circumstantial—’”

He pressed a button on his wrist gizmo. The entire conversation, starting at “they’re just stupid, y’know?” began playing.

“—I record everything.”

---

The incirrina had thrown an absolute fit once it was revealed how thoroughly he had incriminated himself. Donaldtello had needed to step in with a gadget to contain him – Raphael was having difficulties keeping his grip on the idiot with how hard he was flailing. The incirrina had taken to screaming insults and expletives indiscriminately once it became clear that escape was impossible (not that he didn’t still attempt an escape, it was just that now he was yelling pointlessly as he did so).

The hidden city’s “cops” arrived in short order after the group summoned them. After listening to the recording Donaldtello had made of their conversation, they gathered up the incirrina (and said recording, as well as all the human-item trophies, for “evidence”), and hauled him off. Job completed, Leo portalled everyone back to base.

Apriloneil collapsed onto the base’s sofa, blatantly exasperated beyond words and pointedly dramatic. “So much for the ‘impress my bosses by solving the Spine-Breaking Bandit case because it’s more believable that anything to do with yokai’ –plan…” She sighed. “New Yorks biggest weirdness magnet strikes again…”

“Look on the bright side…?” Leo tried, falling into the seat next to her and giving her a sheepish smile. “Gonna be a lot less broken spines around town this time next year…?”

“Oh I’m super happy about that,” she insisted, her head tilted back against the headrest and staring at the ceiling. She sounded genuine, for what it was worth. “We stopped a dangerous lunatic from hurting people – you’re never gonna catch me regretting that. But I mean come on…” Another small sigh. “I still don’t have anything to bring to my bosses…”

Krang raised a brow at her. “Someone’s stolen your ‘corkboard’ idea, then…?”

Leo flicked the side of his head. Which was egregiously uncalled for, considering the comment had made Apriloneil snort.

“Not yet, no. Guess if it comes to it I’ve always got that in my back pocket.” She looked around the room. “In the meantime, you guy’s’ll still help me keep an eye out for other stories, right…?”

There was a burst of supportive enthusiasm from the general assembly. Apriloneil seemed heartened.

Her resolve apparently revitalized, she straightened in her seat. “Now, I decided I was going to do an interview for this case, so I’m going to be interviewing someone for this case—!”

She snatched up the nearby remote, and shoved it into Krang’s face. 

“So Mr. Krang, what made you first suspect the Spine-Breaking Bandit was a yokai?”

Krang stared at the end of the remote she was holding up to him, bewildered, before looking to Leo.

“What is she doing?” he asked under his breath.

“She’s interviewing you, dude, just roll with it!” Leo whispered back encouragingly. When all Krang could bring himself to do was glance between him and the remote, continually confused, he specified, “Just answer the questions like you’re giving a big speech! Go on!”

Feeling awkward (but likewise not about to back down from nothing more than a human wielding a remote), Krang cleared his throat. 

“The… the thought first occurred to me whilst watching—” hm, how to describe the nonsense earth-animal facts he watched with his host…? “—informational videos. The abilities of the animal the video was giving information on— erm, that is, an octopus – coincided with skills whoever was running around breaking spines would need.”

Mentally shaking himself out a bit (because he’d addressed far larger and more formidable groups than this, ridiculous as the entire exercise was), he went on, “At any rate, it made more sense than the criminal in question being a ghost, and investigating it was more proactive than trying to add pixels to video.”

(Donaldtello started making offended noises in the background, and Michael started dramatically intoning “boo! hiss! change the channel!” Krang tossed them both a smirk and moved on.)

“Everything after that initial theory was all him, though,” Krang said, gesturing at Leo (and feeling more comfortable as he went on – stupid practice or not, this was still proving to be… mildly entertaining). “He was the one to put together a plan on how to find the octopus in question, and the one who came up with the idea of tricking him into giving a verbal record of his crimes. So if you want information on that entire thought-process, you’ll have to ask—”

Leo turned and smiled at him. It turned his eyes into little half-moons, it was so big.

Krang faltered, momentarily forgetting what he’d been going to say.

Apriloneil was smiling, too. “Okay, Mister – Leo, was it? – care to explain your process?”

The innocent earnestness of Leo’s smile fell to the side, replaced with something bigger and showier (there was a word for what he was being here, he’d called Krang it a couple times before… “nork”? something like that). “I’d be happy to! Y’see—”

He then proceeded to be as dramatic as possible for his explanation. Krang would admit he was far more engaging to watch than Krang himself had been. Listening to Leo was… pleasant, honestly.

Slowly, the “interview” came to an end, and it was decided they would order food and “chill” for the rest of the day. To celebrate their success, and whatnot. When films were suggested, he lobbied a vote for Jupiter Jim alongside Leo (it was the franchise he was more familiar with at this point). Krang found the whole concept amenable enough. The company was good, anyway—

*

*

*

This… this was all according to plan. Any sense of comradery being felt at present was from their end, just as he’d intended. It was why they were being so reciprocative towards him. The fools would be that much easier to take unwares when he finally—

—when had he started making such a habit of lying to himself simply because it made things easier?

Distantly, he could still vaguely make out discussions on what pizza toppings the group wanted to order going on around him. The conversation sounded like he had his head underwater.

He felt… fond.

Except no, he didn’t, and that wasn’t a lie, to himself or anyone else. He had no reason to trust any of these people. Any “good” memories he had with them were minimal, and only really qualified as such when compared to their stances towards each other prior to being forced to co-inhabit. There was nothing to justify the level of feeling he had for them.

Happiness was a chemical. Earth’s pathetic concept of love was a chemical.

These were not his feelings; they were his host’s.

Krang felt cold and dizzy all of a sudden. He was speaking sense to himself, he knew he was correct on this matter, but—

—but it didn’t matter. The feelings were there, whether they originated from him or not. And they were affecting HIS emotions, and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

These were the people who’d imprisoned his sister.

These were the people who’d killed his brother.

And he was fond of them.

The wave of self-disgust that washed over him was so powerful he was shocked he’d kept himself from retching.

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. Once he’d separated from his host, he would kill them all, just like he’d first planned months ago. Nothing had changed.

His nausea increased tenfold, along with a lump manifesting in his throat. He swallowed, hard.

It didn’t matter. These weren’t his emotions. He would not betray the Krang (past or present) for these earthlings. He wouldn’t. When he was free, he would kill them all—

“Hey Dubble-Bubble, you okay?”

Leo’s voice cut through the muddled, indistinct noise of everything else, nearly making Krang jump.

“I’m— fine,” he forced out, hoping his expression wasn’t somehow betraying him. “Just… thinking.”

Leo smiled. It was softer and a little sadder than either of his last. “Don’t think I’m gonna let you get away with that after all the grief you give me whenever I do it – cut it out, we’re trying to have a good time here!”

Krang mumbled something acquiescent and mildly evasive back.

Leo’s smile dropped just slightly. “This have anything to do with last night…?”

Krang’s chest tightened unbearably all of a sudden, and he couldn’t answer.

The smile dropped almost completely, and there was a terrifying moment where Krang was sure Leo was going to press the issue.

Instead, he held up his hand to him.

Krang stared at it a moment, then looked over to him. Leo gave him another soft, sad smile.

He didn’t lower his hand.

Slowly, Krang took hold of it.

…a small— a small amendment to his assertion: He’d kill the majority of them. He— he’d keep Leo.

Leo was— well, he was ridiculous, consistently, but he was also incredibly pragmatic. He could be useful. Failing that, he could be a— a pet. That would be reasonable. It would be more than reasonable to keep him.

Please, please let it be reasonable. Please don’t make him give up this idiot turtle. Not this one.

Notes:

This chapter was originally supposed to end after Draxum’s section, and the bit where everyone goes to confront the SBB was supposed to have a fight scene in it. Changes happened because

1. We’re getting to the halfway mark of the Important Plot Bits, and I’m an antsy little fuck who wants to stop dawdling and get on with it already,

2. I cannot imagine the SBB as I’ve depicted him would make for an especially challenging fight for the Mad Dogs at this stage in their careers, if I’m being realistic. He’s a total coward who needs to rely on ambushing people to get any sort of edge over them, and intentionally avoids victims who might have friends around who could help them because he knows he’d be in trouble having to fight two people at once. But he could totally take on a group that’s essentially comprised of demigods in regards to their power-scaling. That doesn’t break the suspension of disbelief at all. So yeah a fight between them doesn’t make a lot of sense, considering.

3. I’ve already got two upcoming fight scenes and an action sequence that I’m going to have to write within the next three chapters, and I’m TERRIBLE at writing fight sequences. They’re so hard. Cutting myself one last break before I have to lock in.

Chapter 26: Coming to a Head

Notes:

Rating/warnings have been updated.

Raph started yelling in the other room, which spooked Leo enough where it almost made him fall off the chair he was standing on.

(He’d wanted a piece of the leftover cake, but it was before-dinner. Whenever Leo asked for dessert before-dinner, Dad always said no. Which was unfair, because Dad had cake before dinner all the time. He said that because he always had a glass of milk with it, that made it healthy. But then when Leo said he’d have a glass of milk with his cake too – so it would also be healthy – he’d still said no. It would “spoil his appetite” because he was so much smaller. Leo had since reasoned that, if he didn’t ask his dad, his dad couldn’t tell him no. And if his dad didn’t say no to something, it meant he was allowed to do it. So he’d been on a chair trying to reach the cake Dad had hidden behind the breadbox.

Until Raph had started yelling, anyway.)

Leo dropped to squat on all fours on the chair, waiting to see what happened next, and then Raph yelled again. As quick as he could without making himself slip and fall, Leo scrambled to get down. Dad had always told him that when he was in a situation he didn’t know what to do in, he was supposed to go get a grown-up. Leo didn’t know what to do, so he was getting his dad.

At least until he actually realized what exactly Raph was yelling: “Mikey, stop!!”

Leo turned tail and started running towards his big brother’s voice. He knew what to do with Mikeys; he didn’t need a grown-up for that.

Mikey and Raph were in the living room. Leo wasn’t sure what Raph had been doing, but Mikey had apparently been playing toys. Presumably still was, if the way he was vigorously whapping Raph in the face and arms with his action-figures was any indicator. Chanting “die! die! die!” the whole time, by the way.

Leo ran up behind him, grabbing him under his arms and hauling him off Raph. (Sort of. It was less of a “haul” and more of an “awkward drag.” He was five-years-old and trying, okay?)

“Whaddya think you’re doing?” he demanded, letting go once they were a safe distance away from Raph. Mikey fell harmlessly onto his shell, looking up at Leo from the floor. Leo put his hands on his hips and glared down at him expectantly. (The stance worked for Dad, sooo…)

 Mikey’s face scrunched in offense when he finally registered that he was being yelled at. “Playing!”

“Why’re you hitting Raph?” Leo specified, gesturing at him.

“Yeah, what’d I do??” Raph echoed, and looking over Leo saw he was rubbing his eye. Mikey must’ve clocked him in it. All Leo had to help him feel better were hugs and kisses, so he left Mikey on the floor and went over to give him some.

“It was just pretend!” Mikey said, rolling onto his tummy and pushing himself up. He did sound a little sorry now, at least. “Like-like yesterday when we were playing dinosaurs and had the long-necks fight the sharp-teeth? You were the one making them all fight – how come it’s okay when you do it—?”

“Toy’s aren’t real,” Leo said, exasperated, arms around Raph’s neck (Raph had his head resting against his). “Raphie is.”

“They are real!” Mikey insisted. “They’re my friends!”

“But they don’t hurt!” Leo insisted. “When we threw our dinosaurs down the hall to fly, they didn’t cry when they hit the floor, right? Would you cry if we threw you down the hall?”

Mikey looked like he wanted to argue, then hesitated.

“’Xactly,” Leo said, nodding when Mikey didn’t say anything. “’Cause you’re real. Raph is real, and is really getting hurt. The toys aren’t, so they can’t get hurt, so you can play whatever you want with ’em. It’s not okay to hurt real people.”

Mikey stared at his feet for a second, playing with the tail-end of his shirt. Then he started to well-up, and before Leo could do any damage control, he whimpered, “I’m sorry Raph—!”

Leo, arms still around Raph, was abruptly dragged over to where Mikey was standing as Raph went over to give him hugs and let him know he forgave him and wasn’t mad and all that. So it sort of turned into a group-hug situation, which Leo took as meaning everything was fine now.

---

Working for the EPF wasn’t… quite what Dale had been expecting.

Not in a bad way! He’d meant it when he said he understood that he had a long haul ahead of him before he’d get to do anything more than grunt work! Due-paying had been the phrase he’d settled on, if he was remembering right. He stood by all that!

It was more that… well, he hadn’t expected the grunt work to be quite so much like a detention he’d had in 10^th grade. A lot of his work day involved scraping decently gross substances off of various surfaces (back then it’d been gum and stuff, now it was alien bio-yack), and then sanitizing the surface he’d just scraped.

Which, again, he’d known this was what he’d be doing when Agent Rook had explained it to him. And he’d made peace with it pretty quickly. That wasn’t the issue.

The issue was that, even with all of the above in mind, he was still struggling to feel like an actual agent, and not just a city-wide janitor. He wasn’t demanding glory or accolades at this stage in his career, and he was happy to help with the job at hand (it was the whole reason he’d been allowed in despite his bare-bones training, after all!), but…

When was the feeling that he actually was doing his part for humanity and the world at large going to kick in?

Talking with Agent Bishop helped. Not because Dale was confiding in him or anything, it was more… Agent Bishop was legit. Sustained contact with the living embodiment of “Secret Agent” gave Dale hope that eventually he’d start to feel that cool, too.

Also Agent Bishop indulged him pretty consistently even though he was just the new guy, even though he most definitely had better things he could be doing. Dale appreciated that.

“So, sir,” Dale began, trying to match Agent Bishop’s pace in a way that made it look like he was walking with him rather than scampering after him, “I’ve actually been meaning to ask you – do you remember what you said to me before, when I first started? About aliens ‘slipping through the cracks’ and already being here, like even before the invasion?”

“I do,” he confirmed, moving (briskly, because that was Agent Bishop’s natural pace) though the many halls of Headquarters, presumably to do something very important.

“Do you think it’s to, y’know, gather info to send back? Or just soften us up?”

“That’s always been my belief, yes,” Agent Bishop said, nodding seriously.

Dale’s heart leapt a little – he’d proposed an idea and Agent Bishop had agreed. “Right, because, okay – I noticed a lot of really weird stuff happening around New York just a few year before the invasion. Right up until, actually, and even now I’ll see some stuff that doesn’t seem quite right…”

Agent Bishop stopped and looked at him. “What sort of ‘weird stuff’?”

Okay here we go—

“So back at my high school, right? The head lunch-guy or whatever was really freaky, I think he’s actually still working there. I really think he might be a—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Agent Bishop said, and Dale’s stomach dropped at the note of exasperation in his voice. “Did this ‘freaky lunch-guy’ ever hurt anyone?”

“Not… not exactly, but he was a bossy jerk and just acted off – kept calling himself a baron and talking in third-person. Not to mention he’d do this thing with purple—”

“If he’d been working with the aliens,” Agent Bishop cut in, “there would’ve been a lot more kids and teachers from your school who were hurt, missing, or dead, Malinowski.”

His tone wasn’t unkind. If anything, it was patient and vaguely consoling. Dale still wished he could go crawl under the nearest desk and die for how stupid he suddenly felt.

Agent Bishop went on, “The main goal that all non-humans work towards is the enslavement – if not outright destruction – of the human race. If ever they managed to infiltrate a human establishment like a school, they’d quickly be outed by their own violent natures. It’d be like setting a tiger loose in a crowd of people who are all wearing vests of raw hamburger.”

He started walking again; Dale followed. “Your ‘lunch-guy’ wouldn’t have lasted years with nothing on his record besides seeming ‘off’ if he’d been an alien operative. More people would’ve gotten hurt, plain and simple. And the alien would’ve kept hurting people until someone came in to stop it. Likely the EPF. If we’re being realistic, only the EPF could’ve stopped them if it came to it, considering we’re the trained professionals in regards to handling hostile non-human lifeforms.

“Here’s an example: Do you remember back in… Christ, 2019, I think it was? Anyway – do you remember when that baseball stadium blew, did you catch anything about that, or were you too young to care?”

“No, I— I remember hearing about that—”

“That was a combination of a gas leak, hallucinations, and mob mentality. Something sprung a leak somewhere in the stadium, everyone started feeling unwell, one or two people started seeing things, announced that they were seeing things, and it all just went downhill from there.”

He thought for a second, then amended, “Not as downhill as it could’ve gone, granted – whatever people thought they saw was enough to make them all leave the stadium before it blew. So that was lucky, actually.

“But anyway, the point: Shortly after it happened, we got a whole slew of reports from a whole load of witnesses claiming they saw some big monster. When we finally got down there to inspect the place, it was trashed, sure, but there was no monster. And like I said, no one was hurt. So where did it go, if it’d been there rampaging? We certainly didn’t stop any violent monsters, and since we were the only ones who could…”

Agent Bishop went on, “At any rate, New York is famous for its… eccentrics. Just because someone is a bit odd, or even overly surly doesn’t give you grounds to accuse them of being and alien. Sometimes you’re just dealing with someone with a passion.”

Dale tilted his head. “‘Passion,’ sir…?”

“Mm-hm,” Agent Bishop said, nodding. “You been to the botanical garden recently? The head groundskeeper insists on dressing like a giant plant day and night. Which, they’re all like that. The groundskeepers working at that place operate like a mini-militia dedicated to protecting begonias and whatever else they’ve got in there. They aren’t dangerous – well, again, unless you’re screwing with the begonias – and they’re definitely not aliens. They’re just extremely dedicated to their craft, and a little weird because of it.” Agent Bishop shrugged a shoulder. “Like I said: Passion.”

That… that made sense. Which, obviously it would, Agent Bishop was the expert on things like this – of course he’d have it all mapped out. Dale felt continually stupid for wasting his time.

As if reading his mind, Agent Bishop patted his shoulder encouragingly. “You’ll get better at picking up on things the longer you work here. It’s a skill you have to hone just like anything else. Don’t get discouraged.”

Dale’s chest swelled with the reassurance. Saying something like “I’ll make you proud, sir!” felt too much like Dale was trying to brown-nose. Or at least, like he had a crush or massive daddy-issues or something. Maybe both. Either way, he kept that thought inside his head, and just nodded.

Because he would make Agent Bishop proud, even if announcing such out-loud would be questionable. A few years from now, he’d rise up through the ranks and be the best agent the EPF had ever seen. Second only to Agent Bishop himself, probably.

Dale had a sudden vision of a much more muscular version of himself walking down these very halls, talking to a new, wide-eyed recruit. He was giving him this same sort of speech, explaining what to look out for when it came to alien imposters, regaling him with stories of all the alien scum he’d taken down in his youth. The new recruit took in every word, every bit as impressed with him as Dale currently was with Agent Bishop.

The daydream was cut short before it really even had a chance to take off: Agent Knight came around the corner suddenly, looking like she was trying to find something. The look faded as soon as she saw Agent Bishop.

“Hey hun, could I borrow you for a minute?” she asked him. “We’ve got… there’s someone you might want to speak with here…?”

---

It’d been a couple days since Thanksgiving, which had been… okay? Definitely different than it had been in years past, mostly thanks to the extra company. And that wasn’t just referring to Uno; apparently Barry had gotten his old shoulder pads back, and just hadn’t bothered to mention it to anybody until the three of them showed up for dinner. Leo had only ever really interacted with the two briefly during fights (he actually didn’t confirm their names/which was which until that night), so it was a little jarring to suddenly have them there, alternating between chattering about nothing to him and offering their condolences for his situation over mashed potatoes. 

Leo couldn’t say he appreciated the latter too much. Uno had been literally right there the whole time they were talking about him. Rude.

Uno had been alternating between being kinda distant, and… well, snuggly. Leo hesitated to use that word (mostly because he was pretty sure the guy he was using it on wouldn’t appreciate the application), but there really wasn’t another word for it. He’d been pressing into Leo a lot more frequently lately, seemingly at random. Like he might disappear, or something. (As though Uno wouldn’t sort of be forced to disappear with him if he did??) Plus, Leo didn’t think he’d spent a single night since they’d caught the Spine-Breaking Bandit inside his shell. He’d spent the last few curled up in the crook of Leo’s neck. 

But then, on the flipside, there would be big chunks of time where he wouldn’t say a word to anybody. It was like back when this whole situation first started, just with fewer bouts of hateful yelling. It was all really weird. 

Did Leo have his suspicions about what was going on here? Of course. Tied back into why he’d initially thought he’d been dreaming of his brother and sister. Honestly, it was probably the same stuff, just made worse by the thought of his brother and sister. Very “hey, things were better back then, they’re really confusing right now, I miss my family, and you’re presently the closest thing I have to a Constant Person, please stay where I can see you.”

As if Leo could really leave right now, but y’know. The Emotions™. Common-sense didn’t have a say over those. He wasn’t going to judge.

Also, for as guilty as Leo kinda felt about it, he sort of… liked the idea of being someone’s Person. Their source of “having you around specifically makes me feel better.”  The idea that it was Uno who felt that way about him was just the icing on the

Leo and the fam had decided to go out for the day. They were bored and had nothing else going on, so they’d all decided why not? and headed topside. Anyway, it was starting to get chilly-chilly, and pretty soon they wouldn’t be able to go out without long underwear stuffed with thermal packs. (Well, except April. Warm-blooded and everything.) So it made sense to capitalize on the above-frigid temps while they had them.

If nothing else, they all figured they could window shop a little to start getting gift ideas for the next big holiday on the roster. (…besides Donnie, anyway, who planned to order all his gifts online, per usual.)

“In the most ‘I’m glad this happened but at the same time, aw man,’ kind of way,” April said as they walked down the street, “it really sucks they caught the Long Island Mangler last year. That could’ve been a career-making story, too…”

“Maybe you need to start moving away from the True Crime angle?” Mikey suggested. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love it, but all the high-profile cases are a little slim at the moment.” He gestured at the buildings around them. “Anyway, this is New York! There’s gotta be something interesting happening around here that you can use—”

Almost on cue, a loud, very weird noise shot through the night.

…from another alley. Hooough boy, here we go again…

Everyone looked towards the noise, looked at each other, then tromped off towards it. At the end of the alley, they found Meat Sweats trying to stuff some poor mutant animal into the back of his food truck (some sort of alley-cat/sloth mix-up?).

“Hey Sweatie!” Leo called. “Feels like we haven’t seen you in forever, how’ve ya been?”

Meat Sweats stared at them a second, confused and consternated. He started to say, “Sorry chums, I don’t think we’ve—” then caught sight of April. Recognition flickered.

“Oh trust me,” Leo said. “We’ve definitely met.”

Recognition blared. Meat Sweats’ posture went rigid, snapping to his full height indignantly as he glared at them.

“You all got BROOCHES?!” he demanded.

“They look pretty nice, right?” Leo asked, grinning as he glanced over the group. “Not as nice as our natural look, but eh what can you do. Kind of a given. But yeah, they come in handy. Sure is nice being able to bounce around town whenever we want, no worries about who sees us.” Noting the rise he was succeeding in getting, his grin got wider. “Got ’em from our buddy Todd. So nice to have friends who’ll help you out with stuff like this when you need it.”

Leo faked a wince. “Whoops, sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, considering you try to EAT anyone who spends longer than five minutes with you… kinda hard to build up a rapport with anyone that way, huh?”

Meat Sweats sputtered, outraged. “Do you think I like living this way?!” he demanded. “Do you know what it’s like?! Working for years to claw your way to the top, tasting the sweet flavour of success, only to have it all ripped away without a moment’s notice?!”

April scoffed. “Don’t even. You are not the only person who got mutated in this city, and basically everybody else who did is doing fine.” She paused to think for a second. “Actually, I think all the other people who got mutated are doing pretty well for themselves right now, or at least all the ones I know about are…”

She started ticking people off on her fingers: “Repo runs a scrapping business, Hypno’s still rocking the magician gig, Warren Stone’s in his ‘villain era—’” air-quotes used here, “—but he’s still the GOAT, so that barely matters, Ghost Bear got married…” She grinned, gesturing at the incognito turtles around her with her thumbs. “Splintz, aka Lou Jitsu, aka Hamato Yoshi, has the coolest family in town…”

“Bullhop’s doing great on the dance team he joined!” Mikey put in. “They’re on tour! Oh that reminds me, he sent us a message saying they’re all coming back to the city to do a show, he wants to know how many tickets we want.”

“Ugh, do we have to go to another dance recital?” Donnie asked, upper body going limp so he was tilted back to stare at the sky, arms dangling towards the ground.

April gave him a confused look. “I thought you loved dancing?”

“I love to dance,” Donnie corrected. “Watching OTHER people dance is a frustrating and restrictive waste of time.”

Mikey rolled his eyes. “It won’t kill you to be supportive for one night, Donald—”

“Shut up!” Meat Sweats burst. “It’s easy for them. THEY were only ever normal-nobodies!” He sagged sadly. “I’ve been forgotten in the celebrity world – newer, ‘more present’ chefs have risen to take my place!”

“Mm-hm, well, again, maybe if you hadn’t made a point to try to eat every other mutant/yokai you came across, you could’ve kept doing that,” Leo said, unimpressed. “Coulda jumped the fence like Ghost Bear? Been a celebrity chef in the Hidden City? Maybe found yourself a Mrs. Sweats or something? Or another Mr. Sweats, I guess— I don’t know your story.” He shrugged. “Don’t really see how you can get mad at us that you went all Sweeney Todd on everybody and got yourself blacklisted from any and all mutant groups…”

Meat Sweats glared. “My restaurant’s lost two stars in my absence, because I wasn’t around to ensure my chefs were properly unleashing the flavour of my recipes—” (“Ooh, yeah, I heard about that…” Mikey said, wincing sympathetically.) “—meanwhile you low-end cuts are out here, parading around the city, happy as anything?” He very pointedly hefted his tenderizer-hammer-thing, gripping it with his other hand. “That doesn’t seem fair. I’ll have to rectify that little injustice…”

Leo quietly stanced up himself, unimpressed. “I mean hey, if it’s a brooch you want – and if you can give us some sort of proof you’ll stop trying to eat people – we could probably be persuaded into giving you Todd’s number. He’s a real stand-up guy, I’m sure he’d be happy to hook you up too—”

“Weren’t you listening?” Meat Sweats asked menacingly. “I’ve got nothing to go back too, brooch or no. But if I don’t get to be my old handsome self and be normal, why should any of you? Anyway, it’s been such a long time since I’ve had a nice, comforting bowl of turtle soup—!!”

He swung his hammer, hard, and everyone scattered. Mikey swung a chuk up to grab a nearby fire-escape, attempting to get the (literal) drop on him. Raph, meanwhile, leapt in to engage the old-fashioned way: Fists. He got in a solid smack, but then Meat Sweats brought his hammer back around, knocking him aside. He also managed to sidestep Mikey as he came down, and nearly caught him on the backswing. Mikey was a lot more nimble than Raph, given his size and preferred fighting style, so he was able to avoid the swing, though not without needing to fall back a fair bit.

Meat Sweats tore off one of his gloves (gauntlet? what made it one or the other?) and the tentacle-business he usually kept stuffed inside it writhed out into the air. They briefly wrapped around the sloth-cat Meat Sweats had been harassing before, then glowed green. Throwing the animal away, Meat Sweats snapped them like whips, spraying droplets of… something out at everyone. Leo managed to duck, tuck, and roll out of the way. He spun back around—

—aaaand everybody else was down for the count, at least for a second. Sort of. They were all moving in super slow-mo now. Ugh, how had Leo gone from the guy who’d haaated training, to apparently being the only guy who did it regularly? Like seriously guys, Meat Sweats was B-level compared to some of the other threats they’d tangled with - let’s get our heads in the game here!

H’okay, guess this was just him over here, then – he hopped backwards into a portal before Meat Sweats could sling anymore slow-mo juice at him, disappearing. He came out behind him, but apparently he was getting predictable or something: Meat Sweats was already swinging his hammer behind him to try to catch him as he reappeared.

Unfortunately for Meat Sweats, his hammer was heavy, and not actually all that easy to swing quickly. Which meant Leo had more than enough time to react. He leaned his whole body backwards, and the hammer sailed over him with a whoosh that almost knocked him off balance.

Leo righted himself, flashing Meat Sweats a grin as he did, which he evidently didn’t appreciate. He lashed out with his tentacles, but before he could hit Leo with the juice, Leo sliced them off.

He gave a loud, panicked sound of shock and pain, but like. Really dude. You’re out here fighting a guy with swords. Maaaaybe it’d be smart to not flail your bits around and give that guy an easy target? Seemed like common sense to Leo.

While Meat Sweats was reeling from that, still letting out wordless exclamations as he backed away and stared at his own blood starting to pool on the ground and the useless tentacles lying there in, Leo slashed at his gut. The cut wasn’t as deep as he’d been aiming to make it – the abundance of fat and muscle Meat Sweats had saved him from outright disembowelment. Still, it wasn’t anything to sneeze at, and it was enough to make him gasp and drop his hammer. He grabbed at the injury, blood pouring through the fingers of his remaining gauntlet.

Leo moved forward again, intent on plunging his sword into the handy little slit he’d just made. Meat Sweats blurted something ineffective, something to the tune of “no, stay back—!” and swung at him. The punch came faster than Leo had expected, so he didn’t move in time. Just as well – it’d been frantic and un-coordinated, all things considered, so it only made Leo stumble over causing any actual damage.

Anyway, doing so had caused Meat Sweats to slip in his own blood and hit the ground, so really trying to hit Leo had done him more harm than good.

He was scrambling to get away. Because there was even a hope of that for him at this point, sure. He could barely even stand up, much less run. The attempt was more embarrassing than anything.

Leo walked over, catching up to him easily, and lashed out with his sword. He’d been aiming for the back of his knee, trying to sever the popliteal artery (learned that with Uno the other day!). From a combination of Meat Sweats hearing him approach and flinching, and the general franticness of his escape attempt, Leo missed, and instead just sliced open the back of his calf. The squeal this produced was ugly, and Leo’s expression scrunched in distaste. 

At least that meant his escape attempt had basically had the breaks put on it. Kind of hard to scamper off when your leg didn’t work. Time to wrap this up, then!

Leo moved up, jamming his heel between Meat Sweats’ shoulder blades to keep him in place. He raised a sword, aiming for the back of the neck, right at the base of his skull—

“—LEO!!”

Leo jolted as he was seized under the arms and literally ripped away from Meat Sweats, taken by surprise. Probably for the best, as if he hadn’t basically just gotten put in a hold, his reflexes would’ve made him skewer Raph. Apparently, the slow-mo juice had worn off. 

“Dude, what the hell…?!” he demanded, fighting against his grip. “You’re supposed to be fighting the pig, not me—!”

“Leo…”

That was Mikey. Leo’s struggles faltered to a stop as he looked over to him. He looked sick and terrified, and like he was going to cry.

Everyone looked like that, he realized, glancing around. And they were all staring… at… at him…

“What??” he demanded again, starting to feel sick himself. Why were they all looking at him like that…?

“What do you mean ‘what’?!” Raph demanded furiously, sounding torn between rage and wanting to cry, just like Mikey. Leo’s stomach curdled further. “You almost killed him!!”

“…yeah??” Leo said, still not understanding. “So?? He started it! It’s not like he’s real—”

—w… wait…

Meat Sweats gave a gurgling gasp from his spot on the ground, drawing attention back to him. From the looks of things, he was rapidly losing consciousness. Leo may have missed the artery he’d been aiming for, but apparently blood-loss might get him anyway.

Everyone was sent scrambling, apparently realizing exactly what Leo had.

“Do we call an ambulance—?!”

“And tell them what Mikey?! That we have a mutant pig who’s bleeding to death—?!

“Call Draxum, somebody—! Raph, get over here and put pressure on this—!”

Reluctantly – and after notable hesitation – Raph let go of Leo and moved to where April was directing him.

Leo stared, watching everyone scramble, looking at Meat Sweats. He tried to see a person under all the blood, but couldn’t. Just an enemy. Just a lump of flesh. It’d barely even put up a fight when he’d let loose – it’d just tried to run. Pathetic, weak—

Leo stopped breathing.

Some faraway part of him realized Uno had slowly crawled out of his shell, and was now observing the chaos in front of them, confused and discomforted. Quietly, he said, “Pest…?”

Leo couldn’t answer.

“It made him do this!! Raph was right!! It was taking him over slow so we wouldn’t notice—!”

“Raph, focus! Meat Sweats? Meat Sweats stay with me, do not close your eyes—!”

Leo took a wavering step back.

Uno turned to him more pointedly, discomfort starting to overpower his confusion. “Pest?”

“Barry, it’s Mikey, we— we— ohmygodohmygodohmygod we need you to come now, something happened and we don’t know what to do, Leo—”

“Quarantine— there’s no other option now, we need to put them in quarantine, it’s not safe to let them have free-range after this—”

“Can you put Leo under?? Will that stop it from spreading—?!”

Leo spun around, bringing his swords down and cutting a portal open. The last thing he heard as he bolted into it was his family yelling after him.

---

Leo couldn’t breathe. Krang knew this, emphatically, because he also couldn’t breathe.

They exited the portal at a run, which almost ended very badly considering where it let out at. At first, Krang thought Leo had brought them to the roof of another building, like when they would portal-jump. He could see the ocean in the distance, and not much else. It wasn’t until looking around and seeing the city in the distance that he realized they were on a bridge tower, away from the buildings. Leo threw his swords to the side as soon as the portal closed behind them. Again, something that could’ve ended poorly, considering how far up they were. Above open water, no less. Krang wasn’t exactly in a mental place to admonish him for it.

Leo was breathing unevenly, and collapsed hard to his knees as he came to the edge of the tower. The scream he unleashed spooked Krang took Krang by surprise. It was loud and panicked and raw, and Krang could feel it shredding his own throat just as it was Leo’s. He stopped only long enough to take in another ragged breath, then resumed.

“Pest— Pest!” Krang called over his screams, unable to stand the panic effusing into his chest as well. Leo’s screams were turning to sobs. “Calm— calm down—”

“How the FUCK am I supposed to calm down?!” he demanded, teetering towards hyperventilating. “My family wants to lock me up, I nearly killed somebody, they’re nev-never going to want to see me again, you saw how they looked at me they think— I didn’t— I didn’t mean— they think I’m— that I’m— oh god, ohgodohgodohgod—”

“Leo, you need to breathe!!”

Too much, it was too much, Krang had never felt this level of raw panic and fear before, he didn’t know what to do—

“He didn’t feel real! I mean he did, but— but not as a person, not as something that could feel pain, he was just something I needed to get through, just an enemy I needed to—” gasping, hiccupping, so many tears, “—I almost killed him— I almost killed him. I almost killed him and I didn’t even— I still don’t feel like—”

Pacing, he’d pushed himself back to his feet and started pacing. Krang couldn’t tell if it was born of an attempt to calm himself, or simply a result of his mounting panic. From one side of the tower to the other and back, again and again and again.

“I fucked up everything, I fucked up everything, why didn’t I stop, now everyone thinks I’m— that’ll I’ll— FUCK this is just like before, this is just like— everyone’s in danger again and it’s because of me AGAIN, i-it’s— they’re in danger FROM me—”

“They are not!” Krang barked. “What are you talking about ‘again’?! You never—”

“If I hadn’t gotten my shit together— my whole family— would’ve died,” Leo snarled, yelling and gasping and sobbing all at once. “And that’s not me being dramatic – that’s info straight from the future’s mouth.” He choked. “Everyone would’ve died, all the most important people in my life would’ve died because I couldn’t just fucking listen. Because I had to do things my way, because I decided the fact that my feelings got hurt meant I could be an ass to everybody—”

A sob clawed its way up from Leo’s gut as he paced, Krang felt it move up his own chest and throat. “I was the one who got Raph captured, I was the one who almost got Mikey and Donnie and Casey killed because I was so desperate to get him back. I was the one to screw up and let you guys out, it was my fault. In at least TWO different timelines— how many more screw-ups do I have left before I cause something like that again—??”

Krang began to say, “Pest—” in far too shaky of a voice, but was cut off.

“My whole family would’ve-would’ve died,” Leo repeated, gasping to get back the air his crying was robbing him of, “and you would’ve been the guy who killed them.”

Krang felt like he’d been dropped in ice. It wasn’t a revelation, it was correct, but Leo’s utter distress was causing a sense of horror to grow inside him regardless.

Leo made a noise caught between a forced laugh and another sob, spinning on his heel as he paced back to the other side of the tower. “And what am I doing over here? Buddying up to the guy who would’ve – repeat, repeat! – KILLED them?” Another hiccup, another sob. “And!! I’m-I’m apparently becoming just like him!! Is my next screw-up going to be me losing it and just killing everybody myself—?”

“We talked about this!” Krang insisted accusatorily. He didn’t mean it, he wasn’t trying to be, but it was so hard to breathe and everything felt horrible and he couldn’t think. “If you hadn’t—”

“I fixed everything on ACCIDENT!” Leo barked. Krang was shaken by the force of it – it suggested the thought had been festering in him for a while, despite him never having mentioned it.

Leo went on, speaking faster and more forcefully with each word, “Every good thing I did to stop you guys was on accident!! The only things I did on purpose were the things that fucked everything up! I’m not useful, I’m not good, I’m not strong! That whole time, I was so— I was—” A shuddering intake of breath. “I was so scared.”

His breathing was spiraling out of control again. Krang mentally scrambled for a way to calm him, but – feeling everything just as Leo was – came up with nothing.

“There—there were points after everything where I’d just feel weightless, like I was back in the—in the prison dimension, then for a while after you came back I’d just be waiting for you to start screaming at me again, and I felt so sick, I was so scared I wanted to throw up—”

Another gasp of air, Krang had the terrifying feeling that he was going to lose the fight to keep his own head above these emotions, and would soon join him in this.

“Did you tell anyone about this?” Krang demanded, voice rough. “Before I reawoke? Why didn’t they comfort you? Why didn’t they help?”

“No— I didn’t— I-I can’t— it’s not about me—”

“I am MAKING it about you!!” Krang yelled, taking hold of Leo’s face and forcing him to look at him. His own voice was breaking, he couldn’t stop it. “You do not deserve this!! You did nothing to deserve any of what you’re feeling! You have just as much right to comfort as any of the rest of your family!! You didn’t cause the invasion, you made a mistake!”

Snarling, he demanded, “Do you want to hear about a real mistake?? Leading your forces to a planet inhabited by beings with the power to condemn you and everything you’ve ever known, everything you ever worked for, to an eternal wasteland! THAT is an irreparable mistake!! You rectified your actions! Damn the timeline where you didn’t, you did everything possible to fix things in this one, and you did!”

His throat was closing. He kept talking anyway. “Missteps h-happen, Pest – whether through pure chance or miscalculation, or if you’re focused and doing ev-everything you’re supposed to. That doesn’t mean you deserve to suffer the weight of those missteps forever.” Again, as forcefully as he could muster (considering): “You do not deserve this. Any of what you’re putting yourself through…”

Krang involuntarily drew a shuddering breath of his own, chest tight and briefly unable to meet Leo’s eyes. “You didn’t deserve any of what I put you through…”

In other circumstances, Leo’s expression may have counted as defiant. He held it for several sustained seconds, then Krang watched his expression crumble.

“…what if I hurt them…?” he hiccupped, still trembling. “What if I lose it like Raph did when he turned, and I hurt them? I can’t be the reason that happens, not again—”

Krang feeling Leo’s emotions barely registered at this point. It was barely a fraction of what was wrong. Leo was hurting, he was hurting.

“What happened to your brother is diff-different from what’s happening to you,” Krang said, trying to swallow the lump in his throat (he failed). “Your brother was assimilated. As is typical with beings who are assimilated, he became aggressive and mindless, save for commands issued by a Krang. You have not been assimilated, you are not mindless, and if a simple command was all it took to get you to do things, we wouldn’t-wouldn’t be here right now. From what you described, your mental-state during the fight was akin to that of a Krang, not the beings we’d assimilate – pragmatic, efficient, and ruthless.

“If your mental-state is shifting towards that of a Krang, you have nothing to fear in regards to hurting your brothers, or any of the rest of your allies. Krang don’t turn on their siblings unless the situations are extreme, and necessary beyond a shadow of a doubt. Even then, doing so isn’t a gladly-made decision. I cannot fathom a situation where you would deem any sort of assault on your family necessary, so unless you’re secretly harboring deep, bitter resentment towards any of them, you’re no more likely to cause them harm than you would be if the two of us had never met.”

Leo was still taking harsh, shaky breaths in and out. Fearing he’d make both of them light-headed and cause them to pass out, Krang said, “Sit down now,” gesturing at the top of the tower beneath their feet. Unsteadily, Leo obeyed.

“What if they all h-hate me now?” he asked, voice cracking. “What if they think I’m evil and don’t want anything else to do with me? I can’t— I can’t lose them Uno, I need my family, I don’t wanna keep going if they’re not with me—”

Krang gently scratched under Leo’s jaw, grasping for anything that could calm him. He whimpered and sniffled, but didn’t sob again, leaning into his touch.

“They aren’t going to turn on you, Pest,” Krang insisted, gaining slight ground in the battle to steady his voice. “Any fear they displayed was for you, not of you. It was born of worry – I haven’t known them half as long as you, and even I could see that. Whether or not they have reservations towards you for a while is irrelevant – they did the same thing when I first showed myself. They’ll come around.”

He felt a spike of something awful curdling in his chest – fear, trepidation, doubt. Krang swallowed hard, and furiously insisted, “If they cared for you so little as to toss you away over something you clearly can’t help, they wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of extracting you from the prison dimension. They’d have left you with me to rot. They would’ve quarantined the pair of us back before you'd done anything, ‘just to be safe.’ Or let Donald attempt surgery like he wanted to, because why would it matter to them if you died? But they didn’t, because they WANT you around.”

Krang hesitated, a thrill of panic rising in his chest, but then before he could stop himself he blurted, “And I swear to you, for as long as I live, I’ll never do anything to hurt you or your family again.”

He watched Leo’s eyes well with tears again. In the smallest, shakiest voice Krang had ever heard him use, he asked, “You won’t…?”

Krang was no longer sure if the lump in his throat was coming from Leo. An unfamiliar instinct to wail bore down on him. His body wouldn’t stop shaking and his eyes burned. Leo was calming though, what was this—?

“…I promise.”

liar

traitor

weakling

A fresh sob ripped itself from Leo’s throat, and he pressed the crook of his arm to his mouth to quiet himself. Tears poured from his eyes in rivers. The frantic anguish in him had waned, but those two words from Krang had apparently served to dredge up new emotions that demanded to be exorcised just as fervently. Not knowing what else to do (with Leo, with himself, with anything) Krang pressed into his neck, wrapped all available tentacles around his shaking shoulders, and let him get on with it.

liar traitor weakling liar traitor weakling liar traitor weakling weakling weak weak weak weak—

Notes:

Someone’s either about to betray everything they’ve ever stood for or they’re lying…

Anyway, the scene with Meat Sweats has been sitting in my head for almost three years now. It’s one of the core scenes I had planned for this fic when I first came up with it. Words cannot describe how frustrated I am that I don’t feel like I did it justice.

Also anyone else ever do the thing where you’re really upset about something and then someone comes over to try to talk to you about it but then they accidentally bring up another thing you’re upset about and then your brain sort of short-circuits and you start ranting about that instead of the reason you were originally upset? Sometimes (especially) because you don’t know how to talk about the thing that originally upset you? Because I do that a lot, and that’s what I was trying to capture in that last section.

Chapter 27: Various Concerns (Most of Them Brother-Related)

The kid couldn’t have been older than sixteen, if that. Short, baby-faced (though the comparatively giant glasses weren’t exactly doing him any favors in that regard), and presently looking very serious.

John respected that, if only on the most basic of levels. It was a serious matter they were discussing; he appreciated that the kid was giving it proper gravitas.

It was rare for people who’d made reports on “unusual sightings” to get dragged this far up the chain of command. Statements were usually brought to the EPF’s attention via reports from local authorities, and were then taken down by mid-level agents. They’d be reviewed by higher-ranking EPF members (John, Agent Knight, Agent Rook, or any of their direct subordinates), and either dismissed under the umbrella of “likely mundane causes,” or given back to those same mid-levels to investigate. Who would then afterwards either dismiss the case themselves, or once more bring it back to their higher-up’s attention. There was a surprising amount of back-and-forths required in this job.

This kid’s report had jumped from local authorities, to mid-level agents, straight to their higher-ups, to Rhiannon Knight, to John, all before any actual investigating had taken place. They’d even brought the kid in to clarify his statement. Again, all very rare.

But then, it was even rarer still for a report to have seemingly legitimate, physical evidence attached to it.

It was just John and the kid at the moment. The room they were in was white and empty, save for the table and chairs they sat at. John stared at the picture on the table in front of him, jaw tight, brow braced against two fingers. The image was blurred. Presumably, it’d been taken a distance away from its subject matter (via drone, if he had to guess, possibly by accident), then zoomed in a bit beyond what the pixel-count could support. Still, what was in the picture was unmistakable. It was a group of people, five in total, standing in an alleyway. Which, on its own, was unremarkable enough.

The problem was the very obvious blob sitting on the shoulder of one of the five. John recognized it instantly, blurred and out of focus as it was. He’d fought similar blobs three years ago. He saw a blob like that whenever he had the displeasure of going down to Xeinos’s lab.

It was one of the aliens who’d attacked New York. What was it doing sitting on one of the citizens it had tried to destroy?

“And you said this photo was taken how long ago?” John asked, forcing calmness.

“A little more than two weeks ago?” the kid said. “I think? The date should be on the—”

“I see the date, son. Just clarifying. Procedure. Why did it take you so long to report this if it’s legitimate?”

“It is legitimate!!” the kid burst, looking suddenly frustrated. (John should probably start using his name, though. It’d been in the report, and anyway they might be here a while: Stockboy. Baxter Stockboy. John was struggling to remember why that name sounded familiar.) “And I tried to report it! Do you know how many forums I posted that picture on?! Everybody said it was fake and ‘obviously photoshopped’! Why would I even be here right now if I hadn’t tried literally everywhere else?!”

Exasperation cut through the tumult of everything else John was feeling. God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph and Moses give him strength…

“I meant more ‘why did it take you so long to report this to the proper authorities,’” he sighed, “but I guess your response answers that well enough…”

Let it be very known John didn’t understand modern kids’ obsession with internet fame, regardless of how much it counted as legitimate motivation to them to do the nonsensical things they did.

He took an even breath and exhaled. “Moving on: How exactly did you find yourself in a position to take this picture?” He clarified after a moment, adding, “Do you know these people – are they friends or acquaintances of yours? – or did you more… stumble across this?”

Baxter made a face. “Well… both, kind of? I’ve met these people before – wouldn’t say we’re acquaintances, and we’re definitely not friends, but I’ve known about them for years – but I also did sorta stumble on the fact that they were allied with the alien. I mean, y’know, I learned it by accident. They didn’t tell me about it.”

“‘Allied with the alien’?” John repeated, the phrasing standing out to him like neon, his heartrate increasing just slightly. “What makes you think they were allied with it? Did they say something to imply such a thing, or…?”

John had been previously staring at the picture, feeling sick at the thought that five people were being more-or-less held hostage by some extraterrestrial filth. For at least two weeks, given the date. Maybe even longer, maybe they’d been in this situation since the invasion. The idea that other humans might have allied with the thing had never occurred to him, mostly because it was unthinkable. Frankly, he still felt pretty sure that Stockboy must just be mistaken in his assessment of things – he’d said they “definitely weren’t friends,” maybe personal bias was blinding him to the trouble these people were clearly in…

Baxter scoffed. “They were talking to it like they were all buddy-buddy, so they didn’t really need to imply it. It was pretty clear.”

John’s heart dropped, even though his mind was still uncomprehending. Maybe… maybe these people had just been overtaken by the thing, similar to the citizens who’d been possessed during the invasion? Or— based on the picture, the alien was clearly smaller than the monsters John had fought before. Could it be that it’d spun some lie about it being too weak/innocent to cause the same problems its larger comrades had? It would be just like its kind to prey on the goodwill of humanity—

Baxter shifted excitedly, clearly taking John’s disbelief at face-value. “That’s not even the craziest part! This time around, the alien’s teamed up with…” He actually paused, as though dramatic effect was a thing applicable to real, human-conversation, and not a thing only meant to be used in fictional monologues and soliloquies, “…the Mutant Menace!”

…oh. Oh, God-Mary-Jesus-Joseph-Moses, you people were not pulling your weight up there. John abruptly remembered why this kid’s name sounded so familiar.

“You’re the kid with the blimp from a few years ago, aren’t you?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and pushing up his sunglasses as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “The one who got picked up for attempting a publicity stunt for the Stock&Shop?”

All Baxter’s bravado abruptly left him, quickly replaced by indignation and frustration. “That wasn’t a publicity stunt! …for the store! And the Mutant Menace is real! I have proof, if people would actually bother to take me seriously—!”

He suddenly gave John a hard look. “Do you have your phone?”

John, taking his hand away from his bridge and letting his glasses settle back over his eyes, raised a brow at him questioningly.

“The proof is on my YouTube channel!” Baxter explained, clearly on the brink of being fed up. “Look it up and I’ll show you how real they are!”

He suddenly sat a little straighter, his demeanor smoothing out into something simultaneously more pleasant and more slimy all at once. “While you’re on my page, you can subscribe and donate! I’ve helpfully compiled my evidence into an easy to consume format, so while I’m grateful for any amount, I completely understand if you feel compelled to be a bit more generous with your—”

“What’s the username?” John asked, holding back another sigh as he pulled out his phone from his jacket pocket. He was feeling increasingly unsure if he ought to write this kid off as an unreliable source, or if he needed to mobilize a rescue-team for a group of citizens who might not even realize they were in danger. If watching YouTube videos was what would help that spinner land one way or another, then YouTube it was.

Baxter deflated, his sales-pitch cut short. “STOCKB0ii. ‘Boy’ is spelt b-zero-i-i. The proof’s in the ‘Cybersleuth’ playlist.” Grumbling, he amended, “The proof is the ‘Cybersleuth’ playlist, I guess. I was gonna make it a whole series, but the comments from that fiasco got so bad with trolls after it got labeled as a hoax – unjustly, may I add – that I had to turn them off. Didn’t make much sense to keep trying after that.”

John muttered something noncommittally as he found the playlist in question, and tapped the first video.

There were four videos in total. The first was a preview of sorts, comprised of more still-images, and Baxter being dramatic in an Albearto mask. (As in, a mask of the popular pizza mascot, the one with a literal theme park on the coast. That was apparently the logo Baxter had settled on for his ill-fated ‘cyber-sleuth’ series, too. John had to wonder how the videos hadn’t gotten slapped with a copyright-claim yet.) The stills weren’t especially great quality, but they were better than the most recent picture of the alien. They were obviously all of four, human-sized turtles, taken from different angles, distances, and locations.

Which, honestly, didn’t prove anything. Could easily be exactly the kind of hoax Baxter was insisting it wasn’t. Photoshop could take someone who knew how to use it properly a long way. And for what it was worth, Baxter seemed to be exactly the kind of attention-seeker who’d learn to use it properly, along with anything else he could use to “verify” his bogus claims.

The second and third videos didn’t contain much of anything of note. They listed all the alleged crimes committed by the “mutant menace” in question, and acted as more previews/ads for the kid’s livestream. Something about “ticket sales” were mentioned.

It was the fourth video that put John in a proverbial headlock.

The video started as unimpressively as the first three. It was formatted (and titled) as an “apology” for the hysteria Baxter had caused with the stunt the first two videos had been setting up. In reality, it was mostly Baxter berating his audience for not believing him. That went on for a good fifteen minutes (the majority of which John skipped), followed by twelve seconds of video “proof,” salvaged from the remains of a microbot (whatever that was).

Most of the video was garbled and pixelated. Shapes were visible, noises were audible, but for the most part it only offered the idea of what was meant to be there. It gave every impression that the curator of the video didn’t want people to be able to clearly see or hear what was being filmed. All and all – and rather against what Baxter was clearly trying to convince people – it fit in perfectly with the whole thing being fake and/or staged.

And then, suddenly, towards the end of the clip, everything flickered into 1080p, and John very clearly saw what was being filmed. It was up-close, clear as day footage of the turtle-people that had previously only been shown at a distance. Blinking, breathing, moving, and then one of them spoke:

“What’s your angle, Stockboy?”

Mouth moved in time with the words. Tongue hit teeth in exactly the way it would need to make the sound. No kid could orchestrate this, on the computer or in costume. How had people still managed to tell themselves this was a hoax—?

The clip crackled back to pixels and warbly audio shortly after. Didn’t matter. John had seen enough. And he couldn’t help but notice the turtles had been wearing masks.

The rumor of masked, non-humans stopping the aliens abruptly swung around to crack him in the jaw.

The videos collectively had around a thousand views. John didn’t know if that counted as ‘viral’ amongst the kids nowadays. Especially considering that the video was old, comparatively speaking. According to the little grey stamp under the video, it was first posted four years ago.

Which meant what he was seeing predated the aliens by a year, and therefore couldn’t have been driven by the rumors that cropped up after.

“That was them!” Baxter insisted, gesturing pointedly at the phone. “The people in the— hold on—”

He reached across the table, picking up the picture he’d submitted that had gotten him called in. “This is the Mutant Menace!! I don’t know how they did it, but they’ve started disguising themselves to look human!”

John’s blood ran cold.

There was a pause, and then he asked, as calmly as he was able, “Are you saying that these— things, who have terrorized humans several times in the past – according to your videos –  are not only capable of blending in with humans, but are aligned with the aliens that attacked New York?”

“Yes!” exclaimed Baxter, sounding relieved and thrilled that he’d finally gotten his point across. “That is exactly what I’m saying! Nobody will listen to me! They’ll listen to you, though! All we’ve gotta do is get a couple clips of you verifying my story! I usually work with a ring light, but I guess the ‘realistic’ artificial lighting makes it seem more official, so it’s fine. I just need to get my phone back from you guys and then we can— wait, where are you going?”

John was already halfway to the door. He tossed a “stay there” over his shoulder as he moved, hearing Baxter start to rise from his chair.

“Confiscate everything the kid has that has any capacity to hold images or video,” he ordered the agent that had been stationed outside the door shortly. “Contact Agent Knight, and tell her I want his entire digital footprint downloaded and then wiped, understand?”

Baxter, overhearing this, started sputtering behind him.

“Wait what?!” he demanded shrilly. “You can’t— you can’t do that!! I’m helping you, you can’t—!!”

John didn’t bother to listen to his resulting tantrum. He marched down the hall at an incensed pace, his oxfords emphasizing his resolve with each step.

---

The john didn’t knock this time. It came banging into the lab, enraged, and made both Krang and the old human jump.

The human had just gotten back from a gathering with its ilk. It did this every year, and would be leaving for another gathering within a month or so. It had been in the middle of regaling her with all the stupid activities it had done with its spawn and spawn’s spawn, once more fiddling with the cells it had taken from her. She hadn’t asked, please understand, but she’d allowed its useless prattling as repayment for the food it had left her in its absence. Which, least it could do, honestly – it’d left her alone for multiple days. Making sure she was properly fed ought to count as the bare-minimum.

(Still, the food it always left her this time of year was about as close to “looking forward” to something as she was able to get in this place. She would risk nothing that might compel it to stop making it for her.)

All of this was moot, of course, considering – as stated previously – the john came bursting in unannounced, and cut the whole thing short.

The old human said, “John—” and hastily moved to turn off the microphone that let her hear, but the john forced its way in front of it, cutting it off.

“No,” it snapped, using a tone that Krang had only previously heard from other Krang. “You are going to be quiet, and you are going to LISTEN to me, goddammit: Do you know where I just came from, Xeinos?”

“I—”

“I had an interview with a kid. He’d reported an ‘unusual’ sighting. He had photographic evidence. Do you want to know what that photograph was of?”

“Well—”

“It was another one of THOSE things!” the john spat, and Krang jolted as it pointed an accusatory finger directly at her.

‘Another one of…’ There was… there was another Krang on earth…? That couldn’t… who—?

The old human was apparently in a similar state as she was. “John, that’s… that’s not possible—”

“Ask me who it was with, Xeinos!” the john demanded, cutting him off again. “Go on, I dare you. Ask!”

Before the human could even attempt to respond, the john snarled, “With the non-human ‘heroes’ that THING claimed to hate!”

“What?!” Krang blurted, surprising herself.

The john rounded on her, practically bearing its teeth as it stalked closer to her enclosure. “Don’t you DARE try to play dumb with me, you revolting sack of—!”

The old human had shoved its way in between her and the john.

“You will not speak to her that way,” it said, and that unfamiliar edge was back in its tone.

“It KNOWS something!!” the john insisted loudly, its voice rough with the force of its words. “I have both a witness and physical evidence that there’s collusion between the aliens and the creatures who ‘defeated’ them - I have a picture of one of the little fuckers literally riding around on one of their shoulders, Xeinos! And time-stamped proof that these ‘heroes’ have been active on earth a full year before the aliens invaded, preying on humans the whole time. And that they’ve disguised themselves as humans. Do not stand there and try to fucking argue with me that isn’t by design, and that that one isn’t in on the scam!!”

“John, can you hear yourself?” the human demanded, before half-turning to gesture at Krang behind it. “Look at her. Look at her expression— actually no, never mind, you don’t care, how about this: Look at the size of the beings you’re referencing. Krang wouldn’t fit on anyone’s shoulders. Not anyone who isn’t absolutely massive, anyway, which would make disguising themselves - or even just keeping a low profile - anywhere from exceedingly difficult to impossible. Choke down your prejudices and paranoia for three seconds and try to let a little common sense shine through—”

“This one is smaller than the ones we encountered during the invasion!” the john barked loudly, taking a step forward. “Its size not matching the - minuscule! - sample we’ve seen of the aliens so far doesn’t mean it can’t exist! That doesn’t mean it wasn’t working behind the scenes!”

Krang’s body had gone ice-cold listening to it rant. All six of her tentacles were numb with it.

There were only three Krang left living. Only one of them could constitute as anything resembling “small” anymore. There was only one who was (speaking respectfully) unskilled enough in direct combat as to be taken prisoner. Only one left with the ability to take control of their enemies if they hadn’t been taken prisoner. 

That… that wasn’t… that couldn’t be right. Both of her brothers were in the prison dimension. She’d— she’d heard it—

No. No, she’d heard her leader raging in the prison dimension. She had assumed their smaller brother was with him. He rarely made any noise these days, and she thusly hadn’t questioned not hearing him. She’d last seen him inside the Technodrome, but she’d never actually had a way to confirm—

He’d never been in the prison dimension. If he had, he would have never left their leader behind now that he’d – apparently – escaped. If their leader was with him, the worms that had imprisoned them wouldn’t still be alive to be seen by random humans. Not if he had his say.

Her leader had been alone in the prison dimension, for years. No other Krang, no other anything.

The image of the lifeless husks of Krang floating through empty nothingness, dead by their own designs, flashed through her mind.

—no. No no no no no, that wasn’t possible. Her leader was the strongest being there was, the strongest being there had ever been, he wouldn’t— never, he would never, he was fine. If anyone could outlast that sort of situation it would be him, he was fine, he was fine, he had to be, he—

Three years. In that place.

All alone.

Krang’s eyes flicked between the old human and the john, waiting for one of them to speak and give her more information. She could see the TV sitting on its stand in her peripheral. She had seemingly forgotten how to breathe.

“You’ve protected that thing long enough, Xeinos,” the john spat, throwing a disgusted glance her way. “You’re going to give me access to it, now, and I’m getting answers and a location out of it.”

“You’ll find you won’t.”

“I’ll go over your head if I have to Xeinos, just you fucking watch me—!”

“You will not,” the human said, and Krang was taken off-guard by the real note of anger in its voice. “Primarily because no one above us will listen to you, and you know that. You’d have ‘gone over my head’ a hundred times over by now if you thought there was positively anyone who could order me to comply with your demands, but there isn’t. Too many years spent ranting and raving and mutilating innocent beings over nothing has rather shot your credibility in the foot, I fear. 

“Do you want to know what I’ve spent the last few years doing, John? Offering concrete findings. Tangible results. While you’ve been spinning in circles looking for enemies that aren’t there, I’ve been proving to anyone with any say that matters that peaceful study of Krang and those like her is more productive than ‘forceful interrogation’ ever has.”

Practically snarling itself, it finished, “Give me another week, TWO at most, and I’ll have them convinced that your methods are an outdated concept. What a pity, you’ll have to learn how to treat people different than yourself like sentient beings, how terrible for you.”

The john was staring at it, still visibly, increasingly furious, but now with an unconcealable horror simmering beneath it all. 

“You… you wouldn’t dare— you couldn’t—”

“I very much would, and have been in the process of it for years now.”

The john’s breathing was growing ragged. “You— you pompous— you insane—” It jerked forward, seizing fistfuls of the old human’s lab coat and wrenching it towards it. “You are putting all of humanity at risk with your suicidal delusions, do you understand me—?!”

The old human gave it a forceful shove backwards, making it stumble and breaking its grip. 

“Get out of my lab, John,” it said coldly. “And don’t come back.”

The john looked like it might burst. It was on the brink of hissing and spitting and snarling, Krang could tell. It was odd how inhuman this obvious human could look. If this was the first time Krang had encountered it, she may have second-guessed its classification as such. 

It stormed out of the lab abruptly, leaving a vacuum in its wake. 

Silence, for a moment. 

The old human cast a glance at her, and something in her expression must’ve revealed her distress. Stupid, rotten thing - it took that to mean she was afraid. 

“You don’t have to worry about him, Krang,” it told her. “As long as I’m here, he won’t lay a finger on you. Or anyone else, for that matter. Everything’s alright.”

Nothing was alright. Unlike other, petty grievances, however, she couldn’t very well tell it that. 

She muttered something at it, then went to hole up in her nook, unable to stand looking at it any longer. 

She would escape within the fortnight, she decided, curled against the wall of her nook. First chance she got. It didn’t matter if she got mangled in the process, it didn’t matter who she had to go through. Anyone who tried to stop her would meet a swift, bloody end. She would escape, she would return to the base of the filthy creatures that had separated her from her brothers, and either reunite with her smaller brother or free him from the ones holding him prisoner.

No matter what it took, they would release their leader from the prison he was trapped in. They would. And he would be there, waiting for them. He’d be— he’d be irritated. Irritated that it had taken them so long. If that. He may simply want to get on with his plans, he’d had so many plans—

Her leader was fine. He was fine.

Krang couldn’t stop shaking.

---

Raph grappled back down to ground-level, looking around in random directions, and hearing his heart thump in his ears.

Draxum had come as quickly as he was able, which had been terrifyingly about half a second just before “too late.” He’d managed to do some quick and dirty field-med stuff to stabilize Meat Sweats, but had made it really clear that that was only going to work for so long. He’d been saying something about needing to take him to a yokai-run hospital so he could be properly treated for his injuries, but Raph hadn’t fully registered much beyond that. The second he’d heard the equivalent of “he’s no longer literally about to die here and now,” he’d taken off. If he was being honest, he’d barely registered anything Draxum had said about Meat Sweats condition even before he’d given him the “not in mortal peril anymore” – bill of health. He’d been demanding Donnie track where Leo had portalled off to.

He was in his room. He’d just gone home. He was just in his room. They knew where he was, and now Raph just needed to get to him before— before—

He wasn’t sure, exactly. He just knew it would be bad, and that he needed to get to him as fast as he could.

Little problem: He wasn’t in his room. He wasn’t anywhere in the Lair. Raph called Donnie, confused and freaking out, haphazardly explaining that Leo had moved again. He wasn’t home anymore, and he needed his new location.

Donnie told him, confused and increasingly panicked himself, that his tech was still saying Leo was exactly where he’d been before: In his room. Raph told him he definitely wasn’t, and to try— what was the phrase, recalibrating, or something?? Donnie insisted that there was no point, all his equipment was functioning optimally, it said he was in his room, by all accounts he should be in—

There’d been a pause that had made Raph’s heart sink, and then he said, slowly, “The tracker I placed was subcutaneous. It— I didn’t want any of the trackers to get damaged or— or noticed by placing them too shallowly in the skin, so I inserted them all in our shells…”

Raph nearly dropped his phone. Donnie went on, throat clearly going dry as he talked, “There’s a nonzero chance that Krang somehow found the tracker I’d placed on Leo, and removed it.”

Sure enough, when Raph had followed Donnie’s directions to where Leo was supposed to be in relation to him, he found a teeny-tiny chip-lookin doohickey. It was under Leo’s bed, close to the wall, crusted with what looked like dried blood. There was a layer of dust over it. It’d been there for a while.

Leo had been pretty well accounted for since the Krang had revealed itself. Donnie hadn’t bothered keeping super close track of where the chip was. And when he did glance at its location, it wasn’t anywhere Leo didn’t have reason to be (obviously, the chip was in his room). So he’d never questioned anything.

He told Raph all this over the phone, sounding uncharacteristically like he was going to cry. Raph felt like he’d been hearing everything through a fishbowl, and hadn’t been able to respond or comfort him.

The next thing he was aware of, he was sprinting blindly through the streets of New York. He couldn’t actually remember leaving the Lair. He was just suddenly running around like he might stumble on Leo around the next corner he turned. It was just a matter of turning enough corners to find him.

He hadn’t yet.

Raph’s cloaking brooch had gotten deactivated at some point. He couldn’t remember if he’d done that, or if it’d gotten bumped somehow. Whatever’d happened, if anyone saw him, they’d be able to see right away that it was actually a big turtle running around, and not just a panicking citizen. He couldn’t really be bothered to care much at the moment.

Raph couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.

The Krang officially had Leo all alone now. Had that been its plan all along? It didn’t need to take him over completely or all at once, it just needed to do it at the right moment to shake them all up and drive a wedge between them to make Leo split off—

If that was its plan, it had only worked because Leo’s own family had let it. Because Raph had let it. Because Raph had driven him off right when Leo needed him most.

He’d caught sight of Leo’s face just before he ran. It hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. It hadn’t been what he’d been terrified he’d see for the last few months. He hadn’t seen a monster who didn’t care about who it hurt; he hadn’t seen a reflection of the Krang.

He’d seen his baby brother, terrified and devastated, and clearly right on the brink of panicking and bawling his eyes out.

And then he’d been gone.

When Raph had gotten taken over, after he’d attacked everyone he loved been brought back, he’d felt sick and ashamed and just generally awful. Leo had been the guy to tell him – repeatedly, as many times as he’d thought Raph needed to hear it – that no one blamed him. It wasn’t his fault. They all still loved him, and no one was scared of him. No one saw him any different.

What did Raph do? He freaked out and made Leo feel even worse than he already definitely did. He’d said – loudly, Leo still in earshot – that he should be put under. Donnie had said it “wasn’t safe” for Leo to be left walking free (he wasn’t thinking, he hadn’t meant it like that, Leo knew Donnie could just say things sometimes—), and Raph had implicitly agreed.

Leo had told him over and over and over that no one saw him any differently because of what the Krang had made him do. Before he’d even been back on his feet after the Krang had attacked him, before the bruising around his throat had even healed—

Raph swiped at his eyes with the back of his arm, trying to breathe at least somewhat evenly as he ran, still glancing frantically down every alley and street he passed.

He’d let Leo down like this before – he’d ragged on him to be more “heroic” until Leo did. He’d sacrificed himself to close the portal, and almost died because of it. It was only because of Mikey luck luck luck it was only because of LUCK that they got him back after. Would he still have made that choice if Raph hadn’t put it in his head first? Had he heard Raph’s voice in his mind when he decided to do it?

What if he did something like that again? Because of Raph, AGAIN? What if he decided the “heroic” thing to do here was to take himself out before he could hurt anyone else? What if Raph was already too late—?

Raph cried out as his face met the pavement. He’d suddenly gotten a really sharp, stinging pain in the back of his leg, and it’d made him trip—

Wait… was his leg going numb?

He suddenly became aware of voices muttering to each other kinda close to him.

“No, not the numbing—! This is the mistake we made last time, use the proper tranqs—! There we go!”

Raph felt another stinging pain, in the side of his neck this time.  His panic and internal pleas of no no no, not now, I need to find Leo, not now—! did nothing to stop him from getting dragged under. He was unconscious in seconds.

Notes:

John Bishop is a man of fluctuating competence when it comes to being able to spot non-humans. It mostly depends on whether or not someone being a non-human aligns with his biases, I guess.

Chapter 28: Explosions of Emotions and a Bit of GTA Roleplay

Leo had finally stopped crying, now he was just trying to work up the balls to head back home and face the music. Probably why getting up and going was taking him so long, honestly.

(See, it was funny because he was a turtle, and he’d never had balls, so working up any was going to be tricky— …hm. First time his own inner-wit had made him feel worse. Is this how everyone else felt whenever he told a joke? …how annoying. Donnie’s shock-collar suddenly made a lot more sense. Kind of surprising he hadn’t pursued that harder.)

Leo stared up at the sky, his legs dangling off the bridge tower. Maybe he could just live up here. Portal down when he needed food, then back up before anyone realized where he’d been. Let his family live lives that didn’t involve dealing with all his nonsensical crap. They’d probably happier without—

“No,” Uno said, his tentacles squeezing Leo’s shoulders just a bit tighter. His voice was a little thicker than usual. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.”

He was responding to the lump that had just spontaneously reformed in Leo’s throat, and how his eyes had started stinging again. He’d been surprisingly patient in letting Leo have his little freakout, even though it couldn’t have been fun for him to experience either. He’d pressed into him like he was trying to offer a hug or— or just hold Leo while he cried, to help him calm down. It’d been a sort of counterproductive effort if that had been his endgame, but that was hardly his fault. Nothing he could do about the fact that Leo was broken or else just dumb, and getting showed basic support only just made him want to cry harder. 

“Sorry,” Leo croaked, swallowing and trying to do what he was told and just make it all stop. He’d been doing so good there for a second there…

“Quiet,” Uno hushed. He didn’t sound angry, or harsh, or anything he should’ve sounded like at that point. Instead, he sounded…

stop being nice to me, I don’t deserve it, not now

Leo didn’t know how to say “thank you” and “I’m sorry” in the same breath – at least, not with the weight he needed to say the words with – so he found he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

He swallowed again, hard, getting frustrated with his inability to choke the lump down, then forced a breath in and out. 

“We should… should probably get heading back now, huh—?”

But even that was enough to make his stomach flip. What if everyone was angry with him when he got back? What if they yelled? What if they were afraid of him? What if they tranq’d him before he could even try to explain or talk to them, what if they changed their minds and decided to risk surgically removing Uno before he was ready—?

Something was wrong.

Leo blinked. It wasn’t the ‘wrong’ he’d been feeling, literally just a second ago. It was new and unrelated. It was like a prickling in the back of his brain, unbidden and not particularly appreciated. He realized he’d felt something like this before, but…

Why was he Ninja-Mind-Melding now all of a sudden? How? He hadn’t done this since he was… what, fifteen?? He hadn’t even known this was something he could still do, he’d thought—

no no no, not now, I need to find Leo, not now—!

It faded quickly, leaving Leo staring down at the water hundreds of feet below his legs, stomach doing fresh somersaults.

Raph. 

“What was that?” Uno demanded. He’d heard that (felt that? which was it?) too?

“Raph’s in trouble,” Leo said shortly, shoving himself to his feet and scrambling to snatch up his swords. He didn’t have a mental picture of where he needed to go, he didn’t even know where to go, the only thing he had to tune into here was Raph—

He was sprinting through the city glancing up and down alleyways and streets a trip a fall he landed on his face there was an alley to his left—

“That’s— I-I didn’t know you were able to do that,” Uno said, confused and alarmed. “How long have you been able to do that? Was that brought on by—?”

“Long story,” Leo said, slashing his swords, latching onto the mental image of the alley he’d seen and praying. “No time.”

The portal let out in that exact alley, and Leo’s stomach flipped again. In exhilaration, in confusion, in a lot of things. At the far end of the alley, out on the street beyond, there were three vans. Leo’s heart sank at the sight of his unconscious brother being loaded into the back of one by multiple people. 

Something hot sparked to life in his chest, but before he could do anything about it (or feel too much about its existence, and whether or not it counted as a bad omen), it was snuffed out by a confused realization:

“Waitasecond, I think I— I think I know that guy…??”

---

Ever since Dr. Alex Noe was a boy, he’d known what he wanted to do with his life. While all the other kindergarteners were proclaiming things like “astronaut” and “the president” when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, Alex had always proudly responded, “I want to be a dentist.”

(Food for thought, none of his former classmates had actually achieved their lofty career aspirations once they graduated, at least not to his knowledge. Guess who’d been a dentist for over two decades now?)

He’d been called precocious for it when he’d been especially small. When he got older, for whatever reason, people started to label his dedication to incisors and bicuspids as “overly intense.” He hadn’t cared – he’d eventually found like-minded souls in his Tooth Fairies, so it had hardly mattered in the long run.

(Mostly. His inner-child still carried the emotional scars from when his mother had callously thrown out his VHS copy of Rankin-Bass’s Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, along with his homemade Hermie the Misfit Elf costume. Because she’d been “concerned,” or something. Still, what person didn’t have some scars left over from childhood? Parents were people, just like everyone else – can’t expect them to get everything right all time. He eventually forgave and carried on.)

So he’d grown up, he’d become a dentist, he’d formed a group who was as passionate about teeth as he was, all’s well that ended well, yes? …not exactly.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his job – he did! – it was more that… it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

Some of the teeth he looked at were tragedies, plain and simple. He didn’t mind; meant he’d either get to craft a success-story out of them, or else customize the perfect set of dentures for whoever they were attached to. There were layers to his work, and he loved them all. But then, there were also teeth that were perfect. Pearly white, straight as an arrow, regularly flossed…

He wanted them. He wanted to put the whole set in his back pocket and take them home with him, so he could view them whenever he liked. It made his chest ache.

Now, obviously, he’d never act on this desire. He wouldn’t risk his livelihood like that; he’d almost certainly lose his license for it. People didn’t appreciate others taking their teeth for themselves (which, a little unfair, as he was certain he’d love those teeth more than their former owners ever could, but oh well).

Animals, though? People were much more willing to look the other way when it was animal teeth he was taking.

At first, it’d just been something to soothe the itch of not being able to keep the – downright gorgeous, honestly – teeth of some of his patients. Like when someone was trying to beat a nicotine addiction, so they took to eating fistfuls of chocolate whenever the urge hit them. (Note: Moderation and frequent brushing/flossing was key when it came to consuming sweets! Be mindful!) But then, slowly, he started to see the beauty of it. So many different shapes! Unique functions! Connections to still more people who shared his passion! Bragging rights!

Over time, his little “hobby” became just as important to him as his actual career. He felt there was something of a heartwarming moral to his story: Follow your dreams, don’t abandon your interests for the comfort of people who don’t understand, and you’ll lead a rich and fulfilling life.

Sure, it now meant he had collections that he felt powerfully compelled to complete, which consumed his every waking thought until he did, but really, when you thought about it, wasn’t that another good thing? It indicated a powerful personal drive towards his interests. And if a person didn’t have drive, what were they actually doing with their lives?

And sure, when he was prevented from completing his collections, he got a bit… irritable, but he maintained that was a perfectly normal, very balanced emotional response. Nothing out of the ordinary in the slightest.

A few years prior, he’d gone after what he’d believed was The Big One. The Squatch. Which, make no mistake, he still fully intended to pursue The Squatch – his Cryptid Collection demanded nothing less – but it no longer held the title of “Most Desired Tooth” in his mind. That honor had been passed to a new cryptid: 

The Snaggletooth. 

It’d taken almost four years of time, patience, and commitment, but he and his Tooth Fairies had eventually done it. They’d tracked down the Snaggletooth, in New York City, of all places! He’d honestly expected more of a search when they’d first arrived, but no! They’d found it within the first three hours of their arrival, running down a random street! 

(Perhaps this was where all the suburban legends of sewer gators had come from – misidentified Snaggletooths.)

Once they had confirmed its identity, it was only a matter of subduing it. Having learned from his mistakes, Alex had made a point to bring genuine tranquilizers with for this adventure, rather than his usual numbing darts. When they’d hit it with the darts before, it had barely slowed it down. (One of his Tooth Fairies had missed the memo, apparently. The mistake had been corrected before any issues arose, but mental note to be clearer with everyone next time.)

His Tooth Fairies had just finished strapping its unconscious body to a gurney, and loading into the back of one of their vans. It’d been a task and a half to even heft it up there, he didn’t mind saying, but this is why Alex led them on a strict exercise regimen each week. The hard part was over, now all that was left to do was transport it back to Alex’s residence for, ahem. “Surgery.” 

(He wouldn’t be caught making the same mistake he had last time. He was taking his prize back to a secure location before anything unforeseen could happen. No more on-the-field teeth removal.)

He heard one of his Tooth Fairies cry out. Head snapping towards the direction of the sound, he saw Gerald – the one who’d been moving to get into the driver’s side of the van – making hard impact with the pavement a few feet away from the vehicle. Like he’d just been thrown, or something.

Alex barely had time to register how strange that was. He was too busy exclaiming in wordless shock at the sight of the van speeding away, with nary a Tooth Fairy behind the wheel.

Someone was poaching his Snaggletooth—!

---

Fun little factoid!! Leo didn’t know how to drive!!

There’d never really been much of a reason to learn, y’know? He could portal literally anywhere, and whenever he rode around in the Tank, it was pretty much always either Raph or Donnie who drove. And, sure, maybe he was selling himself a little short here – he could drive some things. Bikes and other small vehicles. The shell-hogs in particular. Those were fine, he could handle those. 

This was not a small vehicle!! THIS had a lot more levers and switches and peddles he had to keep track of!! And a hoard of very PO’ed dentists chasing after it!! Which was not super conducive to learning how to WORK any of the levers or switches or peddles!!

Uno, bless him, was trying to be as supportive as his innate Krangliness would allow, despite very clearly being in fear for his life. 

“Are you supposed to be jerking it like that?” he asked, his voice a half-octave higher than usual as he watched Leo fight with the wheel. 

“No!!” Leo said, van swerving terrifyingly in and out of traffic. “I’ve been trying to straighten it out for six blocks now but nothing’s working!!”

“It— well— m-maybe you could just— er— maybe— un-straighten. Pest, Pest un-straighten. UN-STRAIGHTEN PEST THERE’S A HUMAN THERE’SAHUMAN—!!”

Leo missed the poor guy trying to carry home his groceries, barely. The effort took him onto a curb, through a postbox, and then very nearly into a fire hydrant. He managed to also miss that and maneuver the van back onto the road, but his heart was beating so hard in his ears that he was getting nauseous from the noise. 

(Or maybe he was getting nauseous from extreme motion sickness. Who could say.)

He hadn’t had a clean enough shot to try to get a portal underneath the gurney they’d strapped Raph to, and he hadn’t wanted to take the chance of potentially losing him if he tried to follow and wait for a better opportunity. (He also hadn’t trusted whatever had happened to lead him to Raph to work a second time, or at least, he wasn’t comfortable with hinging his brother’s safety on it.) The dentists were literally packing up to go when he’d found them, though. So it was either act then and there, or risk letting them get away with Raph. No contest there – behind the wheel he jumped. 

Unfortunately, now that he was behind the wheel – and more pressingly, being chased – it meant he didn’t have any free hands to open a portal now that he did have a clean shot at Raph, or even undo the straps holding Raph in place. So now here he was: Driving a barely under-control van with nothing but luck and prayers, with his unconscious older brother rolling around on a worryingly unsecured gurney in the backseat, and his parasite nearly as freaked out as he was. Because today just hadn’t been stressful enough, apparently. 

Shockingly, despite the pounding ringing loud in his own ears, he managed to pick up on a groan somewhere behind him. Raph was waking up. 

Leo, realizing that in the chaos of everything he hadn’t constructed any sort of script for himself –and panicking a little already, if he was being brutally honest – proceeded to panic harder.

There was a groggy “what—?” and then the sounds of a turtle struggling against his bonds. Not wanting his brother to be freaked out longer than he needed to be, Leo swallowed and called back, “Raph-a-doodle! You’re up! Great! So, I don’t know how much you remember of what’s happening here or if that’s a little fuzzy for ya, so lemme fill you in real quick just in case:

“You, um, you got kidnapped! D’you remember when we went camping with Todd, and then those weird dentist guys kidnapped him because they thought he was a sasquatch and they wanted his teeth or something? So random, amirite? Well, um, turns out they decided they really liked your teeth – or at least that’s what I’m assuming is happening here, considering what I know about their MO, and since they strapped you to a rollie-bed like you’d do if you were gonna operate on someone. But I guess now that I’m thinking about it I didn’t really ask any of them…!”

Avoid the curb avoid the curb avoid the curb— “Anyway yeah, that’s sorta where we’re at right now! I popped in on them trying to load you up and kinda-sorta stole their car, and now we’re being chased at very high speeds by a bunch of really unhappy cavity-crunchers. Defo not how I thought this day was gonna go when I woke up, but ehhh what can ya do, right? Life in New York!”

There were a few seconds of sputtering as Raph worked to process everything Leo had just told him. Which, fair, that was a lot of very weird information he’d just dropped. Rather than comment on any of it, though (maybe he’d just given up trying to process things, and had just jumped to what he knew for sure), he blurted, “Leo?! Are you okay?! Did that thing do anything to hurt you—?!”

“‘That thing’ is here trying to save you from whatever a dentist is just as much as your brother, thank you,” Uno sniped, throwing a look out behind him.

Leo felt Raph glare. “Like you have a choice! You gotta go where he does!”

“But I apparently have the ability to ‘hurt’ him despite not having the barest say in where we go or what we do. Astounding logic.”

Leo started to look over his shoulder at Raph, but two tentacles swiftly took hold of either side of his face and spun his head forward again. “Eyes on the road, Pest.”

“You’ve got the ‘ability’ to take out the tracker Donnie put on him!” Raph snapped back. “Why would you do that if you weren’t planning something?!”

Uno started to say something, but Leo beat him to the punch, surprised and confused. “You took out Donnie’s chip?? How long ago did you do that??”

“I don’t know – a while? Sometime after we’d learned we were stuck together. Eyes on the road.”

“Okay but like when?”

“A day or two, maybe. I didn’t know what it was and disliked that, so I removed it while you were asleep. Eyes on the road.”

“A likely story!” Raph scoffed venomously.

“I didn’t even feel anything…” Leo said.

“You did – you complained about me pinching you after I’d taken it out. It likely woke you up enough to react to it, but not enough for you to consciously register or remember anything— Pest I would steer FOR YOU if I could, but I can’t reach – PLEASE keep your eyes on the road!!”

“Sorry! What can I say? Too many years of Mario Kart –marathons had their effect, I guess—”

“LEO!” Raph barked, and Leo’s palms were growing increasingly damp (it was totally just because he’d almost crashed into a vendor cart just now). “Stop it! For once in your life could you please be SERIOUS—!”

“He’s uncomfortable, you idiot!” Uno snapped, whipping around to face him. “This is what he does when he’s uncomfortable! You’ve known him for years, how have you not picked up on this yet—?!”

The gurney Raph was strapped to was still rolling around wildly in the back. He had his head craned up to try to maintain eye-contact with Uno. “Yeah, I have known him for years, thanks for pointing that out gumface! Which is how I know he’ll joke around no matter what’s going down; ‘uncomfortable’ ain’t got nothin to do with it—!”

“Which one of us can feel his emotions like they’re his own?!” Uno demanded. “Which one of us could more definitively identify when he’s uncomfortable as a result?!”

“Oh yeah?? Well which one of us is more likely to—?! Oof—! More likely to lie when it suits them?!” Raph fired back, grunting mid-sentence as the gurney smacked into the wall as Leo swerved yet again. “Stay outta this!”

“Too late! You dragged me into it! Leave my host alone!”

“Leave your—?! I ain’t done nothin!! Messing with people is what you do, why should I—?!”

“Because this is what YOU do!!” Uno cut in, and Leo wouldn’t have needed a connection between them to feel how cheesed off he was (not that he could actually feel anything with their connection, but you get it). “You underestimate him consistently, and then get frustrated with him when things aren’t done to your nonsensical standards!”

“I do not—!”

“I have been here for MONTHS!” Uno barked, raising his voice. “I’ve WATCHED you do this, all of you! Do not try to tell me what I did or did not witness—!”

“Y’wanna know what I witnessed?” Raph asked harshly. “I ‘witnessed’ you meat-puppeting my brother into almost killing someone! Don’t sit there and act like you give a damn about him when you’re out here making him do shit like that—!”

“I—! I didn’t…”

Uno glanced at Leo, gauging. Leo, abruptly very glad he didn’t have to try to answer for this or explain things alone (even if he did feel monumentally sick just then), gave a stiff nod.

Uno turned back to Raph. “I didn’t make him do anything. It’s a similar situation as what’s going on with his eyes; because we’ve been connected the way that we are, there have been some… changes. He… he fights like a Krang now.”

The sudden sound of tires screeching made him stop and reflexively look out the window. It had been the sound of a different car, one not involved in the chase, skidding to a halt to avoid t-boning their or the dentists’ van.

Satisfied (or at least having not been given something new to worry about), he went on, “If something engages Krang with clear intent to harm them, it will be destroyed unless a good enough reason is provided. This isn’t because an order was given; this is – to Krang, anyway – common sense. It’s instinct. It’s the equivalent of closing your eyes when something comes flying at your face. Being attached to me means your brother has these instincts now as well. It’s not his fault that the rest of you would rather be taken down by an enemy you’d nonsensically allowed to live rather than just simplifying things for yourselves—!”

“Uno,” Leo cut in. “Please not now…”

He went quiet, albeit looking very frustrated as he did.

Raph, meanwhile, seemed horrified Leo felt so sick.

“That’s— why should we believe you—?”

“Raph,” Leo cut in, voice shaking. “He’s… he’s not lying. It— I— Meat Sweats didn’t feel like a person when I was fighting him. It’s not…” But unable to come up with the words for whatever the situation wasn’t, he just repeated, “He’s not lying.”

A stomach-churning pause.

“We’ll— we’ll undo it somehow!” Raph insisted, and Leo couldn’t tell who he was trying to convince. “This isn’t—! It’s not permanent, Leo, we’ll fix it, don’t worry—!”

“Raph—”

“I’m not gonna let that monster turn you, Leo—!”

“He’s not a—!”

Leo stopped. Raph didn’t say anything. Uno waited, trying to assess if he should intervene.

Leo swallowed hard. He could do this, he didn’t need Uno to face his own brother FOR him—

“Raph, there’s— he’s not a— we’re—” breathe, just say it, “he’s not a monster, okay? It’s— there’s a lot of culture-clash happening here, that’s the biggest takeaway, we’ve talked through stuff, a-and— we’re actually kinda… um— we’re cool with each other, now, I-I think…?”

Raph didn’t say anything for a second, but Uno slouched just a bit closer into his neck.

Three, two, and—

“WHAT?!”

Panic rising, panic rising: “It’s-it’s not—! It’s like—! I mean c’mon you spend enough time with a guy and everything will start to seem like small potatoes between you both eventually, am I right—?”

“‘Small potatoes’?!” Raph repeated incredulously. “Leo, he tried to beat you to death!! In no world could that ever be considered ‘small potatoes—’!!”

“Not like his ‘family’ treats him much better, so you’ll have to forgive him for not being able to differentiate,” Uno sneered.

Leo boggled, outraged. “Uno what the fuck—?!”

“You wouldn’t know family if one came and kicked the snot outta you!” Raph barked, then, “Oh wait! That happened already, didn’t it?”

Uno made a strangled sound through his teeth and pressed his face into his tentacles, trying to breathe through his obvious spike in frustration. (Leo attempted to ignore the whole situation by focusing how much the dentists’ vans were gaining on them, and trying to avoid pedestrians.)

Raph went on, “Family takes care of each other; family supports each other—!”

“Well you’ve done a mind-bogglingly poor job of that!” Uno spat. 

Leo’s stomach twisted. His palms were sweating so bad he could barely grip the wheel. Speaking as someone who usually liked being the center of attention, being smack-dab in the middle of all this was making him want to throw up. 

“Uno, we really don’t have to do this right now—”

“Keep your eyes on the road, Pest,” he commanded again, not looking away from Raph, his expression hard. (His voice was soft, though. Softer than the one he was using to talk to Raph, anyway…)

He gestured at Leo. “He managed to talk down that Mina-lizard, did any of you commend him for it? Or how about when he dispatched two of your enemies by himself while the rest of you were still regaining your bearings from the first punch thrown? Or when he took down that one annoying human in the mechsuit with one strike? What about when he was the one to organize the unmasking and capture of the incirrina that had been attacking humans? Did you – any of you – say anything to him about it?”

He waited half a second, like he was going to give Raph a chance to try to answer, but burst before he actually could: “No!! You didn’t!! I did!! The one who’d tried to ‘beat him to DEATH,’ remember?! You do, Raphael!! You literally just brought it up!! The person who’d attacked him with intent to kill is more willing to compliment him than his supposed ‘loved ones’!! Let that fucking sink in!!”

Raph didn’t say anything for a second. Leo, dutifully following orders, didn’t take his eyes off the road to see what expression he was making. He couldn’t bring himself to turn and check if he was angry or disgusted.

Then, Raph snapped, “So… what, you’ve been sucking up to him to get him to trust you?! So you can control him better—?!”

Uno laughed. Or at least, that was the closest known descriptor of the sound he made. It wasn’t happy or amused, or even mocking or scornful. It was a noise that communicated “I need to do something right now, so I’m doing this, because otherwise the only option left to me is to go clinically insane.”

“I can’t control— a damn thing he does!” he said between his non-laughs. “I never have!! Even though it would’ve made my life— one-thousand times easier! I don’t know what else you want me to do to prove that—!”

The van jolted suddenly. The dentists were ramming them, trying to push them off the road. Leo didn’t know whether to hope for a cop to come and try to intervene, or to be left alone until he could maneuver them out of this mess. 

The dentists arced out away from them, clearing planning to swerve back in with a vengeance to knock them clean into one of the surrounding buildings. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and floored it.

He heard a catastrophic crunch of metal, but hadn’t felt any sort of impact. Cracking an eye open, he checked his side mirror. 

The other van that had been ramming them had missed, and instead ended up wrecking itself against a brick wall. Leo allowed himself a quick sec of celebration – one down! Only one more left chasing them!

“Then why bother?!” Raph demanded. (Ah, okay. Moment of celebration over, back to Anxiety.) “If you’re not trying to control him to hurt people, then what the hell are you trying to do to him?! Why are you ‘helping’ him—?!”

“If I had any control over what he did, and cared so little about him, why would I have let him come save you right now?!”

“’Cuz—” Raph faltered for a second, clearly scrambling, before finally settling on, “—’cuz you’d also have to feel him being upset if you didn’t?!”

Oh no you don’t went the Horchata: “You admit that I’d actively work to prevent your brother’s negative moods to spare myself from them – that in mind, why would I in any way bother to orchestrate them?? Why would I risk emotional anguish by ‘tricking him’ or ‘controlling him’ into hurting others?”

“I— I don’t know!” Raph yelled back. The wheels of his gurney squealed loudly as Leo took a corner on two wheels to avoid getting rear-ended by the remaining van. “But there has to be something! You’re evil, why else would you help him if you’re not plotting something—?!”

“Because he was miserable!!” Uno yelled, voice breaking. That was Leo’s fault, probably – his eyes were stinging again, even as he kept them locked onto the road, and it was a fight to breathe even. “And none of YOU were doing anything about it!! You were the REASONS he was miserable!!”

Leo’s hands were shaking on the wheel he was white-knuckling. “No, Uno, that’s not—”

“It is, Pest, and I don’t care if they ‘meant it’ or not, or whatever excuse you mean to offer for them!” He turned back to Raph forcefully. “Do you know how many conversations with you people he’s left hating himself? Because apparently none of you think he has feelings worthy of taking into consideration? Have a single one of you ever thought to ask how he’s actually doing, ever, or did you all uniformly decide he has no deeper spectrum of emotion beyond what he shows you?”

He barked out another laugh, and this one was scornful. “Oh, stupid me, I already know the answer to that: That’s apparently exactly what you thought. If you’d felt different, you’d have thought to ask how he’d felt about the invasion—”

“Uno, stop!!”

“Why?!” he demanded, voice so rough from what Leo was feeling that it might have counted as a sob. “Why can’t he know about this?! Why are you the one to be made to suffer this alone?!”

Once again, he rounded back on Raph. “You see?! This is what’s been happening the entire time I’ve been here! Before I even got here! He’s too afraid of upsetting any of you or making you think less of him to ever draw attention to himself! He needs someone, and I’m all you left him! THAT’S ‘why’!!”

There was another pause. Leo’s vision was starting to tunnel. There was too much going on. It was making his body go numb.

“…he— Leo knows he can come to his family for whatever,” Raph said, and God, Leo was being ripped apart at the note of betrayal in his voice. “You’re not— you don’t know what you’re…” Then, focus shifting, “Leo, you… you know that… right? You… you wouldn’t…?”

“Absolutely not,” Uno bit out, voice hard as stone. “You don’t get to do that – you don’t get to play that card. Literally one of the first things you people did – one of the first things you did – when he started showing signs of altered behavior today was suggest to knock him unconscious, presumably indefinitely, until you could figure out your next course of action. I heard no attempts to discuss this situation with him, or offer any chance to consent to this or not.”

“That’s—that’s not—” Oh God, oh God, Raph’s voice was actually breaking— “Donnie— W-we didn’t mean it like that, we were panicking—”

“I. Do. Not. CARE. I don’t care what your reasoning was or whether you meant it ‘like that’ – don’t you dare act like him feeling unwanted or disregarded by you people isn’t legitimate.”

Another pause, slightly longer, than Raph spat, “How do I know you’re not the one putting those thoughts in his head in the first place—?!”

“He loves you all so much that I’M feeling it,” Uno roared, “and you think there’s space for me to make him think ANYTHING negative about you—?!!”

He stopped abruptly, like he hadn’t meant to say what he had. Or maybe he was just catching feedback from Leo again, and needed to take a breather.

Because whether he’d meant to admit it or not, what he’d essentially just said was that he cared. Uno cared for Leo’s family the same way Leo did. He’d already promised to never hurt them again, but hearing that—

Everything else about the situation they were in was shitty. Leo felt sick and anxious and panicky and just bad regarding pretty much everything happening around him. But for all of two seconds, for the span of that one sentence, everything in his world was okay again.

They all suddenly jerked backwards briefly (Raph’s gurney smashed into the backdoors of the van). Leo’s momentary distraction had cost them – the dentists had rear-ended them.

Not the worst of it, though: There was a series of thumps on the roof, and then a bald man in scrubs dropped down onto the hood of the van.

“That’s the dentist?” Krang clarified, staring.

“Yep,” Leo said shortly.

“…alright,” he said, watching the guy pull back his fist, clearly intent on punching through the windshield. “Out of curiosity, what, er, what do dentists do, exactly?”

“They work with teeth,” Leo explained, twisting the wheel sharply to try to launch him off the hood (no such luck, but it did hit pause on him trying to put his fist through a sheet of glass). “They clean ’em and straighten ’em and pull ’em out when they’re rotten.”

“Wh… why does this human have so much musculature if all he’s doing is pulling teeth?!” Krang demanded, turning to Leo, gobstopped. “What is the bacteria doing to you people’s mouths to make that necessary?!”

Leo didn’t answer. They were coming up on the bridge (ironically, the same one he and Uno had been on before they’d come down to get Raph). This gave him two ideas at once.

He looked over to the dentist who was glaring at him through the windshield. That same hot feeling from before sparked in his chest again, just for a moment.

“Hope you guys got good insurance on this thing…” he muttered, glaring back. Then he cranked the wheel viciously.

Don’t ask him how he did it, he just did it, it was hard: He managed to twist and bump the van so that it was straddling the bridge’s cable. He gunned it until they were a few stories further up (insane dentist still clinging to the hood, mind you), and then cranked the wheel again.

The van tipped off the cable, plummeting to the ocean below.

“PEST—?!” Uno yelped, confused and probably (rightfully) freaked out as they entered free-fall. Leo ignored him as he jumped up from the driver’s seat, darting to the back of the van to Raph. He latched on to his brother, and opened a portal directly beneath his gurney.

Their landing back on top of the bridge tower (it was the first place Leo could think to portal off to) was a little rough. Again, they had just been about to start the process of free-falling. It wasn’t enough to hurt any of them, but… yeah, rough.

There was an awful crashing sound somewhere far, far below them. Disentangling himself from Raph and glancing over the edge, Leo saw white-foam from where the van had smashed through the ocean’s surface-tension. He wondered if the dentist guy was alright. Considering he’d attempted to abduct his brother for the direct purpose of performing unauthorized and nonconsensual oral surgery, Leo wouldn’t claim he’d shed too many tears if he wasn’t.

“And stay down there,” Uno grumbled, giving the ripples a dirty look. Presumably, he had similar sentiments towards the whole ordeal.

 “For real. Good riddance,” Leo agreed, turning away and heading back to Raph, still on the gurney. His swords made quick work of the straps holding him down.

Raph just… looked him for a second. He looked like he wanted to say something, but—

Oh.

“Hey Horchata, could you— could you give us a minute?” Leo asked.

“No?” Uno said, giving him a look. “Still very attached to you, Pest. And even if I wasn’t the farthest I could go is the opposite corner of the tower here—”

“Humor me, please?”

Uno’s look shifted just slightly. Then he turned to give Raph a look, stating, “I’ll be coming back out if there’s any more nonsense, for the record,” then disappeared back into Leo’s shell.

And then it was just the two of them.

“Leo, what did it mean—” Raph hesitated. Leo tensed. “‘If we felt different, we’d have thought to ask about the invasion’? What… w-we talked about the invasion, after it happened…? Is it talking about when you were training like crazy? Because I thought you and Dad…?”

Leo shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah, no, we did! Uno— y’know, Krang’s just being… it’s not about m—!”

He stopped.

“…Leo?”

Leo looked up at his brother suddenly realizing he wasn’t sure how long he’d been floating in that moment, or how long it had been since he’d breathed.

He swallowed, and forced himself to inhale.

“I… I might have gone a little light on the details of what’d been happening in my head after that whole… situation was over. ’Cuz I mean y’know, there’d been bigger things to worry about and stuff. But it’s fine now, I’m—! It’s—!”

Raph was staring at him, looking confused and worried and—

He could feel Uno pressing close inside his shell.

“—I’m… I keep… thinking about it. I know it’s stupid, I know I’m fine and I’ve been safe for years now, but it’s like—” Get your words straight, keep your voice even, do not cry, “—sometimes it feels like I’m still there, even when things are going great. N-not anywhere physically— I mean, sometimes, but more just— emotionally I’m still— there’s shit happening and everyone’s in trouble and it’s all my fault and I don’t know how to fix it, but while I’m going through all that everyone else around me is totally okay and normal and I’m just— I know I shoulda said something, but it felt like I couldn’t say anything about it because there’s nothing that happened to me wasn’t my own fault, and everything that happened to everyone else was also my fault—”

The tears he’d managed to stave off for however long that car-ride had taken were back full-force. Leo felt continual frustration and disgust with the idiot that lived in his skull. He couldn’t stop babbling suddenly.

 “Casey said you all died in the future. Because of me. And I know I shouldn’t have led everyone into the tunnel even though literally everyone was telling me it was a bad idea, but I was so scared of what could be happening to you I didn’t care, I know that’s not an excuse I know, I swear, I’m so sorry Raph I’m sorry I’m so—”

Leo was a little ashamed to admit he flinched when Raph threw his arms around him. When he didn’t register anything but a tighter-than-average squeeze, he blinked, uncomprehending and confused.

“I made a whole big thing about ‘being a hero,’ and ragged and ragged on you, and you were literally just doing your best,” he said thickly. “You almost got killed because I didn’t let up—”

“Raph, no— that’s not—”

“It is, Leo!” Raph insisted, hugging him tighter. “I know there was something else we coulda done to beat the Krang, one where you could’ve been safe, just— just maybe not other people. But because I didn’t shut up you chose to sacrifice yourself to protect other people, and I’m—! It’s wrong, I know it is, but it’s the truth – I would’ve rather YOU had been safe—!”

Raph was swaying slightly where he stood, and suddenly Leo was five-years-old again. Everything’s okay, I got you, you’re safe. He couldn’t decide if it was an intentional action, or if it was something instinctual.

Either way, Leo’s lower lip was trembling. He shakily raised his arms to cling to his brother.

“Now because of that, you’re stuck with the guy who’d tried to kill you. And getting changed because of that, and I don’t know how to help you.” A watery, non-laugh. “And now you’re telling me that – on top of all that – you don’t even feel like you can talk to any of us about what you’ve been going through?? The Krang feels safer??” His shoulders started to shake. “I’m so sorry Leo, I’m so sorry for all the times you needed us and we weren’t there. I’m so sorry I can’t save you from all this, or even help you with it.”

Leo swallowed the whimper trying to climb up his throat. “Kinda hard to be there for someone when they n-never share their location with you, innit?” The breath he took was more shuddering than he would’ve liked. Oh well. “And you-you shoulda seen this guy, pushy as all hell. At first I only talked to him to shut him up.”

“That’s accurate,” called up a voice from Leo’s shell. “It was an ordeal. He was ardently against seeing sense at the start.”

Leo pulled out of the hug to look at Raph better. “What I did was my choice. You told me to stop, remember? I don’t blame you – you don’t blame you, either, okay?”

Inconspicuously swiping at his eyes (he played it off as scratching the corner of his eye), Leo went on, “And I’m—I’m gonna be okay. I swear I am. I know it was… intense today, but that was just because I didn’t realize what was happening! I’m not ever going to do that again, I swear, I know what to watch out for now! And anyway, even if I didn’t, all you guys know to watch out for stuff like this too now, so if things go sideways, you’ll pull me back! And this sort of… thing is only towards, like… people trying to kill us! I’m not gonna go savage and attack anybody I care about, that’s straight from Uno! Krang don’t attack their siblings or— um, y’know. ‘Allies.’”

“…it told you that, huh?” asked Raph. Leo nodded, feeling nervous (at least he didn’t sound accusatory?). “So… you did talk to it about… stuff, then…?”

Leo swallowed again. “He’s a he, for starters, and… y-yeah. I did.”

“And it— h-he helped?”

“…yeah. He did. A lot.” That stupid lump that couldn’t seem to take the fucking hint to just go and stay gone came back. “Please— please don’t be mad, Raph— I’m not— I know it’s a shitty thing for me to do after what he did to you, it’s not because I don’t love you or care about what you went through, it’s just—”

“Leo, Leo, it’s… I’m not mad. Or-or hurt or whatever you’re worried about here. If talking to him helps you at all, then…” He took a breath. “Then go for it. Please.”

Leo was welling up again. “Are you – any of you guys – are you gonna start… you’re not gonna look at me differently now, right? Because I’m the same, I am, I’ve just gotta make sure I go into fights with a little different mindset, that’s all! Do you… d-do you still—”

“We’re always gonna love you, Leo,” Raph said, and Leo didn’t know if the fact that he was starting to really cry now made him feel better, because at least he wasn’t the only one doing it now, or if it just made him feel like crying more himself. “No matter what.”

Raph opened his arms again to pull Leo into another hug (he ended up not needing to; Leo kinda dove in there as soon as he’d given him the opening), and said, “And you don’t blame you either. I don’t. At all.”

Ope, there go the floodgates—!

(During the hug, just under his own crying, Leo heard a voice grumble “so apparently you two are only capable of having deep conversations if they’re prefaced by or during one or both of your lives hanging in the balance, good to know…”)

---

Meat Sweats was going to be fine, apparently. Or at least, he wasn’t going to die. Draxum had helped April, Donnie, and Mikey get him as far as an entrance to the Hidden City, and given them instructions on how to get him to a hospital afterwards, but that had been as much as he’d been able to do. Hidden City’s Most Wanted, and everything. He couldn’t exactly get caught there just walking around. It also probably wouldn’t have helped his case to get caught walking around with someone severely injured, either. 

April and Donnie had actually been the ones to transport/stay for updates regarding Meat Sweats. Mikey had stayed with Draxum, and they’d gone home to tell Pops what had happened and that Leo was missing. Draxum had been in the process of finishing up a locator spell for Leo when April and Donnie showed up with news of how Meat Sweats was faring. They were also both now panicking over Raph, because after his last call to Donnie, he’d also gone MIA. 

It was shortly after (thankfully) that Raph called to let them know he’d found Leo, and that they were both okay. And also give them a drive-by explanation of what had taken him so long to get back to them (the whole kidnapping-thing). 

He also very pointedly tried to say-without-saying (since Leo was right there) that everybody better make sure not to say/do anything to make Leo feel bad about anything, even by accident. And that if anyone did, there were no promises that he wouldn’t go Savage Raph. So like… y’know, tread carefully. 

They were coming up on the Lair’s main entrance now. Leo was trying to be discrete about it, but he was doing the thing where your palms are sweaty, so you try to wipe them off by rubbing your fingers together in fists. It made Raph want to do… something. He wasn’t sure what, but something. 

Leo stopped right at the threshold of the Lair, seeming frozen. Raph, who hadn’t noticed until he was already a step and a half inside, turned back to look at him. Before he could say anything, though, Leo unstuck himself, and entered behind him. 

Everyone was waiting in the living room. They looked up in unison as Raph and Leo entered. No one said anything at first. 

“H-heyyyy guys!” Leo started awkwardly could everyone else see how hard he was trembling, or was it just because Raph was standing closest? “I— sorry about all that, just… panicked, y’know? I mean blergh that whole thing was-was crazy, right?” He swallowed, hard, once again trying to wipe off his hands on themselves down by his sides. “I’m— I’m sorry if I freaked anyone out back there—”

He was cut short. Donnie had launched out of his seat, rushed over to him, and thrown his arms around his neck. 

Leo didn’t look like he knew what to do at first. With Donnie or himself. Then, right before everyone’s eyes, he started to crumble.

“I’m— I’m sorry,” he repeated, choking. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sososo sorry—“

Leo was clinging back, sobbing into Donnie’s neck. Raph hadn’t seen Leo cry since they were kids – little kids, and it’d been because he’d rolled his ankle – and now he’d done it twice in the same day. Hard. 

Unsurprisingly, this had set Raph off, too. And everyone else, for that matter. There was a rush of movement as everyone available lurched towards Leo, burying in a group-hug. Leo was very quickly no longer the only one crying. Even Draxum was in tears/in on the hug.

What followed was a whooole conversation regarding the whooole situation (when everybody calmed down enough to talk, anyway). They covered everything from what the situation with Krang looked like now to how Leo had been feeling ever since the invasion. Pretty much everyone was horrified. 

The fact that everyone still loved Leo – and always would, no matter what – was emphasized several times; at least once per person, solemn promises given. Raph very nearly burst into tears again over it needing to be re-emphasized so many times. Leo seemed so disbelieving and unsure…

Everyone had calmed down now. Given final hugs and reassurances for the night, and headed to bed/gone home. Raph had given Leo one last squeeze (that had lasted maybe a few seconds longer than it had needed to), and then gone back to his own room. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor under his feet. 

Little thing he and Leo hadn’t shared with the rest of the family: They hadn’t called immediately after the kidnapping part of the night had been resolved. They’d sat at the top of the bridge tower and stared out at the ocean for a minute, and Raph had worked to calm Leo down enough to go face everybody. 

He’d been curled into Raph’s side, shaking like a leaf, insisting he was fine and just coming down from the adrenaline from earlier. It reminded Raph of when they were little and his brothers used to come to him for protection when they were scared, since he was the oldest/biggest. It had always made Raph feel good whenever one of them had done this – not the “my little brother is afraid of something” –part, that’d been rough. He’d felt good that, when they were scared, they trusted him to protect them. It made him feel strong and brave. 

He hadn’t felt strong or brave when Leo had done it then. He’d felt like the reason he’d been scared, and it’d been just about the worst feeling in the world. 

Raph still didn’t know if the decision to more or less trust the Krang was the right one – what he was sure of were all the ways he’d been hurting his brother, for years, without any Krang influence or involvement whatsoever. 

Raph put his head in his hands and stayed like that, too empty to shed another tear. 

---

Leo fell backwards onto his bed, emotionally wrung out, but lighter because of it. If he wasn’t as exhausted as he was, he might’ve started crying from it all over again. Or maybe just start laughing. Or laugh until he cried. Something like that.

Raph didn’t hate him for the invasion or what had happened during it, he didn’t blame him. He didn’t feel any different about Leo now, even with all the Krang stuff happening. Raph still loved him. So did everybody else; they’d held him when he’d cried and told them how sorry he was. They’d cried with him over how sorry they were. Weight lifted.

He’d made peace with the biggest question-mark in his life in recent years (Uno), and they were both definitively on the same side now. He wouldn’t have to worry about him hurting his family going forward. Because he didn’t have to worry about him hurting his family, he didn’t have to worry about what his family would have to do to him once they separated. Everyone he cared about would be safe. Weight lifted.

Raph had given him the okay to consider Uno his buddy without guilt. He wasn’t betraying him by enjoying his company! Or being comforted when he talked him down from his own crazy! Or just generally liking the guy and wanting to keep him around! Weight lifted!

The relief was making him light-headed, honestly. The weights that had been tied around his wrists, ankles, and throat three years ago had finally been allowed to drop. There was a little voice in the back of his mind screaming and whooping ‘it’s over!! it’s finally over!!’

Sure, he— there was the little fact that he didn’t see the bad guys they’d fight as people anymore during fights, which… yeah, little unsettling. But he’d brute-forced his way through worse! The whole reason it’d even been a problem today was because he hadn’t realized it was happening. Because he hadn’t realized it was happening, he hadn’t thought to check himself. Now he did! He’d just have to be extra conscious of what he was doing in battles going forward!

Even if worst came to worst, he still had his family’s support and acceptance. They’d promised. They wouldn’t lie. Weight lifted. Weight lifted.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his pillow to his face and snuggling into it, pushing the last point away for the moment. He had it under control, and even if there were more bumps in the road to be had, he didn’t feel like worrying about it right now. Tomorrow’s problem. He was feeling a little too good about life just then to bother.

…so it was a little weird that Uno seemed so off-center all of a sudden, considering.

He’d retreated into Leo’s shell while he’d been sitting and waiting for Raph to clear things up with everybody else, and hadn’t come back out when they’d all reunited. Come to think of it, he hadn’t actually said anything since his and Raph’s little heart-to-heart on the bridge tower.

Not even when it was very clear they were alone in their room again. That… wasn’t like him. Not when he wasn’t upset about something, anyway…

Leo started to say, “hey, Cuddlelumps—” but was cut off by the abrupt appearance of Donnie in his doorway, wide-eyed and a little pale.

“Leo…?” he began, somewhere between hesitant and— and…? “We… we have a situation.”

---

Agent Bishop had asked Dale to get something for him from Dr. Xeinos before he went home for the night. He’d seemed… agitated. 

“Maybe you’ll have better luck than me with the old b— with the doctor,” he’d said, tense and very obviously irritated. “He doesn’t like me. Just tell him John sent you to ask him to reconsider. He’ll know what it means.” 

Dale sure hoped he would. Dale definitely didn’t. He was sort of nervous he was about to go down there, make a whole big thing, and then have the doctor just stare back confused. He assumed Agent Bishop would be above dumb hazing-crap, but there was still a big enough kernel of doubt in there to make him anxious—

No. Actually, he was stopping that thought there. Secret agent didn’t get anxious – they did what their superiors ordered them to do with a cool head. And they didn’t pull childish, frat-boy level pranks on each other, so he didn’t have to worry about Agent Bishop doing something like that in the first place. 

He straightened his posture as he walked down the hall, trying to decide the best way to approach the task he’d been given. He’d decided he was going to make Agent Bishop proud literally hours earlier; that’s what he was going to do! Agent Bishop needed something from this doctor-guy, and Dale was going to get it!

Dale had only ever met Dr. Xeinos in passing three or four times before. He’d seemed nice enough. Agent Bishop claiming he “didn’t like him” suggested there was more to him, though, and none of the extra bits sounded like they’d be especially complimentary. Anyone who didn’t like the main guy who was working to protect all of earth had some explaining to do, in Dale’s book. 

So okay, should he try to go in like a hardened badass to shake the old guy up? ‘Agent Bishop would like to respectfully implore that you reconsider his previous request.’ But like… kinda menacing. Not so much that it dipped into, y’know, evil-henchman territory, of course, more… ‘action hero giving the bad guy one last chance to surrender before he opens a can of whoopass on them.’ Yeah. Yeah, that could work…!

Although… hadn’t Agent Bishop wanted to go in because the doctor might like Dale better? Wouldn’t it make more sense to try to be… well, likable, then?

‘Excuse me mister Dr. Xeinos, sir, could you please maybe reconsider whatever Agent Bishop asked you about, pretty please…?’

…maybe it was more just a case of emphasizing Agent Bishop’s point. Trying to be “likable” would just make him look spineless; no one was going to respect that. And if people didn’t respect him, why would they feel compelled to listen to him?

Still, trying to puff up before he’d actually earned any kind of notoriety would probably just make him look anywhere from over-eager to naïve to just plain annoying… He’d go with a mix. Polite but firm. “I may be a lower rank (for the moment), but I’ll still be taken seriously here!”

Right. Good. Okay. He’d walk right into that lab, look the doctor right in the eye, ignore the alien in the corner, and—

—oh. Wait. Was this… Dale was actually going to get to see one of the aliens who’d invaded New York up-close here, wasn’t he? He’d known it was around (in custody, that was), but he’d never actually had clearance to, like… go check it out. (And he definitely wasn’t about to ask to go see it; majorly unprofessional. He wasn’t working at a zoo, here.)

He stood a little straighter, and walked a little quicker. He’d practice his hardened-badass routine on the alien, he decided. It wouldn’t know he was the new-blood, and he didn’t need to convince it to respect him. He wasn’t the one in the cage. It had to respect him by default.

He got to the door that led directly into the lab (discretely wiped his palms off on his pantsleg – excitement and nerves were making them a little damp), squared his shoulders, and walked in.

He stumbled to a stop not two steps inside. After a three second delay where his mind finally processed the images his eyes were sending it, he started screaming and couldn’t stop.

Dr. Xeinos lay half on the floor, half-slumped against the side of the island in the middle of the room. His throat was cut, blood pouring down his front, staining his clothes and the white tile beneath him bright, bright red. His eyes stared forward, unseeing and very dead.

A panel built into the side of the alien’s enclosure stood open. There was no alien inside.

Notes:

Alright Uno, front and center! Your turn!

Full disclosure, the plot for this chapter is heavily inspired by the cut episode “The Island of Dr. Noe,” where Raph gets kidnapped and Leo has to lead the others to go save him. I was originally going to have it set on the titular island, but logistical issues made me reorganize things. If they were just on an island, there’s really no reason Leo couldn’t have just portalled in, grabbed Raph, and portalled back out. Simple and quick, over and done with little fuss. Which would kind of defeat the purpose of me adding it into the story at all, why not just have Raph find Leo and go from there with a normal (if heated) conversation? So I went with a car chase instead.

Chapter 29: Accusations of Death and Dying

Notes:

Alternative chapter title: "Krangs Have a Real Bad Day."

One of Donnie’s scanners had pinged a report: There was a fully-formed, completely untethered Krang loose in New York. Police had been discretely informed to be on the lookout, but to not engage under any circumstances if said Krang was spotted. Contact the specialists and leave it to them.

Obviously, this wasn’t something any of them were going to leave to the people of New York. But, unfortunately, that did sort of mean that they were the ones who had to go deal with it. Which, considering how things had gone the last time they’d had to tangle with a fully-formed, completely untethered Krang, and considering the one they were heading out to face was the most violent of the three…

(Uno had taken the news about as well as could be expected. Specifically, he didn’t seem sure how to take the news, considering his current situation and everything that it entailed, and that was about as solid of a response as any of them would likely be able to drum up if put in his tentacle-socks.)

It was decided after some discussion that Leo and Uno would go in to try to talk her down, both for Uno’s sake (or at least, that was why Leo had agreed to it), and to hopefully spare everybody from having to actually engage with her. If that was even possible. (Uno insisted it was; Leo was silently very doubtful.)

It’d also been decided that Leo would let Uno do the talking during the encounter. Too much chatter from him before she’d acclimated might “set her off,” according to Uno. Consider Leo’s lips zipped.

Donnie was able to get a rough estimate on Sister-Krang’s whereabouts in the city via a new tracker he’d slapped together – it was specifically made to locate Krang. Sciencesciencesomething, it used Krang-DNA to search for like bio-signatures.

(“Where, precisely, did you get Krang material from? I certainly never offered you any—”

“Don’t spit on people next time.”)

So here they were. Donnie’s tracker had led them to a building presently under construction. It was disturbingly close to the Lair. Leo didn’t like that. Leo and Uno took point and headed deeper inside, while the rest held back and followed at a distance. The idea was to not overwhelm her with numbers. If she felt ganged up on, she’d either feel threatened or – worse – insulted, which could, again, set her off.

Donnie had also stressed the importance that they do whatever they were going to do before the people who’d been holding Uno’s sister actually showed up. Given the circumstances, they probably wouldn’t be too fussed with who was doing what if they caught them interacting with one of the aliens who’d invaded New York. Particularly considering that one of them was attached to a second alien. Nothing like working on a time-limit…

Leo glanced around at the site as he and Uno moved slowly through it, trying to catch sight of a runaway Krang. It looked familiar – was this where they’d first found Mayhem, or did all construction zones just look the same? They were making no progress here, if it was the same place. It looked to be exactly as far along as Leo remembered that building being—

“Sister, stop!”

Leo spun around, and found a one-eyed Krang maybe two feet from him. A hardened, scythe-like tentacle hovered above both their heads, just waiting to be brought down hard. He jolted back a few steps, heart suddenly set to Samba-tempo.

He hadn’t even heard her come up behind him. And maybe it was just because he’d gotten so used to Uno’s current proportions, but she looked bigger than he remembered.

Literal weirdest thing, though… As soon as he noticed her (a little bit before, even, now that he thought about it), he felt… he didn’t want to say right or good or even content, because none of those were quite right. But something… clicked inside him, sorta? Like he might even be able to tell himself he’d heard an actual click.

Satisfying, that was more the word. It was like those videos where people would slot things into perfectly sized gaps. It was that kind of feeling, but… more. Stronger. Pieces fitting together. Better view of a whole big picture. 

How weird.

Sister-Krang was staring at them, shock and disbelief smeared across her face, apparently frozen. Leo swallowed and, not knowing what else to do, waved nervously. “Um… hi…”

That seemed to unstick her, at least a little. She blinked hard, visibly resetting herself, and sputtered, “Brother? I— how—? I-I thought— you— how—?”

This was the first time Leo had ever heard this particular Krang say something that didn’t have a murderous edge to it (be it in rage or glee). She sounded… a little choked up, actually.

“I heard— the humans that held me were talking, they said there had been sightings of another Krang, a small one, with these cretins. I’d assumed— I thought they were referring to our brother, I thought you were alone in that awful prison dimension, I thought—”

Let the record show that Leo was aware this wasn’t the time or place to let his guard down. Particularly since, apparently, they all hadn’t been as careful as they’d thought, and someone had caught a glimpse of not just Uno, but Uno with THEM. And had ID’d them to government folks, or whoever had specifically been holding this Krang. (He ran a quick mental tally of everyone who could potentially be to blame for this, then mentally shook his fist at Stockboy. He was the only person who’d a. So much as seen Uno, b. Definitively knew who they were, c. Would want to turn them into gov’t folks, and d. Was enough of a snitch to actually go through with the idea. Rotten little clout-chaser…)

All the same, knowing what Leo did about his Krang, he couldn’t help but feel a certain kinda way here. Uno had missed his siblings, and it looked like his sister had missed him back. She’d been worried about him, in any case.

Uno swallowed, which was uncharacteristically hesitant enough to jolt Leo back to the gravity of the situation. “I… I was alone in the prison dimension for… however many years since the previous invasion attempt.”

Sister-Krang’s expression fell, looking horrified and sick, and Leo was forcefully brought back to his “hey, so this guy was alone for THREE YEARS, that probably sucked” -sympathies. Y’know, the ones that he’d been aggressively trying to ignore prior to their little situation/alliance(?)-shift? Welp. Front and center now!

Leo’s hand twitched, wanting to reach up and offer it for Uno to hold for support, or maybe just brush against his gills as consolation. He instead forced it to stay down by his side, and didn’t interrupt.

“Are you well?” Uno asked, scanning her and craning around as much as he could from Leo’s shoulder. “The humans didn’t…? You’re not…?”

“The humans did nothing to me beyond hold me prisoner,” Sister-Krang scoffed, rolling her eyes disdainfully. Then, amending, “They took a few cell-samples back at the beginning, I suppose. Something about splicing them with human dee-enn-ay, whatever that is, to try to get a better idea of how our assimilation process works. Which: I told that old imbecile that I hadn’t anything to do with that aspect, but it just fed me some nonsense about wanting to ‘give it its best effort anyway.’ Ridiculous. I’d intended to see if, once the sample had developed enough, I might attempt anything with it to make my escape.”

“And did you?” Uno asked. “‘Attempt anything,’ that is? Is that how you’re free now?”

(Leo had questions too – very much wanted to ask “‘attempt’ what??” but managed to hold his tongue.)

“I ended up not needing to,” Sister-Krang said. “A different opportunity to escape arose, which I took.”

Her expression twisted suddenly.

“Why are you with this thing?” she demanded, gesturing at Leo and advancing on him threateningly (if subtly; she didn’t actually move all that much, but her general aura expanded quite a lot – he leaned back just a little in time with her).

Uno’s tenseness eased just slightly, replaced with the exasperation that only a sibling could elicit (good to know that sort of thing was universal). “Sister, look at me for goodness sake. Was I this size when last we spoke? No? Why do you think I’m with him, particularly after we’ve already established I’d previously been in the prison dimension?”

Sister-Krang’s expression flicked to the sort of annoyance that only a sibling could elicit (it went both ways!) before settling into confusion. “It was your host?”

“Still is,” Uno said. “I’m not done forming yet.” He lifted himself off Leo’s shoulder just slightly, standing on his front tentacles, and then without warning yanked something. Leo was given a forcible flashback to when he’d tried to rip Uno out of his shell before he’d learned the full scope of things, and yelped in surprise.

(Uno, for the record, also grimaced in pain, but because he’d known what he was going to do and had been able to brace for it, he hadn’t cried out. Cheater.)

“See?” he said, motioning towards Leo’s shell as he settled (gingerly) back onto his shoulder. “Still attached.”

His sister balked. “What?! How— how are you conscious right now then—?!”

“I genuinely haven’t the foggiest idea,” Uno said, sounding tired. “Something obviously went wrong, but I’ve no way to pinpoint what or how to remedy it. There’s nothing to do to fix this but to wait.”

Sister-Krang once again looked horrified, though in place of looking sick, she now seemed mildly disgusted.

“…that explains why you haven’t killed it yet, I suppose…” she finally mused, staring at Leo. Her tone weeble-wobbled between contemplative and outright pitying.

Uno seemed increasingly uncomfortable. He hummed acquiescently, but didn’t respond beyond that. Sister-Krang didn’t seem to notice, really. Fair enough, she had something more pressing to talk about:

“Brother, if you’re here now, and before you’d been in the prison dimension… where is…? I-I haven’t seen…?”

“Our—” swallow, reset, “our brother was still aboard the Technodrome when it was destroyed,” Uno said (Leo’s hand twitched towards him again). “He… he didn’t survive.”

“…what?” Leo hadn’t been expecting the emotional kick to the gut with how small her voice came out. “That’s… no… no. He-he can’t be, he’s not—”

She couldn’t bring herself to finish; Uno couldn’t bring himself to add to it. He was staring at a patch of ground a ways away, and Leo recognized the forced neutrality of someone fighting for their life to not feel anything.

Sister-Krang swallowed. “How long have you been stuck with… them, then? Did you only just recently reawaken?”

“I’ve been awake for several months now,” Uno said, voice deceptively, pointedly even. (He still kept on looking anywhere but at either of the other people present, though.) “I apologize for not making more of a effort to seek you out – as you can imagine it’s been a bit difficult to accomplish much of anything in this state.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she snapped, albeit only performatively. There was no real bite to her words. “As if there’s anything you could do like this – what are you apologizing for?”

Before Uno could answer, she asked, “Are you well? I understand these weaklings weren't able to kill or harm you for fear of hurting their pathetic comrade here—” (Leo was literally just standing here, lady, stop sending him strays) “—but… has it been awful? Are you—?”

“Have I ever been anything less than completely in-control at any given moment, Sister?” Uno asked, voice going cold and authoritative. “Do not forget who you’re speaking to.”

Sister-Krang rolled her eye again. Leo would’ve given her a high-five if he’d thought she’d accept it— …high four? His three plus her single tentacle? Whatever. He was on her side, was the point. Like. Come on, Buddy. Was now really the moment for the high-and-mighty act? Be so painfully for real right now.

“You have never before been forced to tolerate the extended company of creatures who single-handedly dismantled our plans,” she rebutted. “You can hardly blame me for being concerned.”

“You’ll find I can, because I have never given you cause to be ‘concerned.’”

Frustration and annoyance flashed across Sister-Krang’s face, but apart from glancing away for a second she didn’t say anything more on the topic. Leo, having grown up with Mr. “When I Was His Age I Was Two Years Older, Gotta Fix Everything Myself” felt that sentiment right down to his bones.

Her attention shifted to Leo.

She reached forward abruptly, taking hold of Leo’s face and dragging him closer to her remaining eye, inspecting him. He went stiff in surprise, but managed to keep his composure beyond that. No reason to be bothered, it was just another Krang. He dealt with a Krang daily, it was fine, just be cool.

She could tear the jaw she gripped clean off, if she wanted. 

“My compliments on how well you’ve managed to train this thing, I suppose. It’s not nearly as mouthy as the last one. How long did that take? Or does whatever complications that arose during this mess have the trade-off of giving you above-average control of it?”

Uno shifted on Leo’s shoulder. “I… I have no direct control over him, no.”

“Hm. Well, again, well done, in that case. Assuming this one isn’t just pathetically meek, anyway.” She turned Leo’s head to look at him from a different angle. “How does it fare in combat?”

“Far above average, please let him go now, Sister.”

Leo thought he heard her grumble “you and your pets, I’ll never understand…” but she did let him go. Leo took a couple steps back just to create a little space.

“Not that I expect we’ll be keeping it once you’ve separated, as a pet or any other reason,” she amended, and Leo got the tiniest of shivers over the tone she used. “Wasn’t this the one who had been in the prison dimension with you, briefly?”

“He… he is.”

“Thought so,” she said, and her voice was leaning far closer to what Leo had come to expect from her. “Makes my question about its combat-skill a bit pointless, I suppose – obviously it would have to be ‘above average’ to engage with you and live, so pardon my inanity. Shall we kill it together, once you’re able? Or are you claiming that right for your own?”

“That— that won’t be necessary, Sister.”

The energy shifted. Sister-Krang gave him a strange look that made Leo’s stomach twist.

There was a long pause, and then she asked, “Is there any indication towards how much longer you’ll be stuck to it?”

Uno shifted again, and Leo got the distinct sense he was steeling himself. “He’s a he, actually. He’s called ‘Leo.’ And no, we’ve no idea how much longer this will last.”

She stared at him. Her expression was… off. Uno took a small breath – they’d finally gotten to the meat of this encounter, Leo realized, bracing himself. Because whatever this led to, it likely wasn’t going to start out very pretty.

Uno was cut off from actually saying anything by a small sound nearby, and Leo’s heart sank.

To everyone’s credit, they weren’t being especially conspicuous. If Leo hadn’t been looking, he might not have noticed them. But he was looking – his reflexes had snapped his head towards the source of the noise (like it had Uno and Sister-Krang), and he could see them.

(He would come to learn later they had all picked up on the tense atmosphere, and had moved a little closer in case things went south and Leo and Uno needed backup.

How ironic.)

“Well,” Sister-Krang said, looking at them. “My brother’s well-being isn’t dependent on any of you. There’s no reason you insects need to live…”

There was a split-second wherein everyone present twitched. Sister-Krang twitched as though to leap forward, all the rest of them twitched to jump away. They all stopped short of actually doing any of that by Uno yelling, “STOP.”

They all did. Sister-Krang whipped around to look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean ‘stop’?” she demanded. “Brother, these are— you don’t need— These are the ones who—”

“I know, I know, but—” Uno made a little motion with his foremost tentacles, like he was straining for words, before finally saying, “Being conscious before I have any right to be isn’t the only… irregularity present in my current situation.”

Sister-Krang stared at him again, looking dismayed. “What sort of ‘irregularity’?”

“As it presently stands, I— erm. Feel his emotions—" a tiny gesture at Leo, "—like they were my own. And his emotions if you go and kill his entire clan will be… extremely unpleasant. So… kindly refrain from doing that, please.”

She boggled, looking between him and Leo. Leo gave a wobbly smile back, feeling increasingly awkward. She glanced over at everyone. They collectively tensed, gripping the weapons they held up defensively a little tighter.

“Fine,” she finally said. “We’ll leave them until after you split from your host, then kill them. Is that an adequate solution?”

“It’s— Sister, no—”

“Why not?! What possible purpose could you have to keep them alive after that?! It’s not like you’d feel— anything… if they…”

She trailed off, staring at him. The horror from earlier was returning to her face, slowly but steadily. Uno met her stare, but Leo felt sure that all he wanted in the world right then was to retreat back into his shell where no one could see him.

“…say it isn’t true,” Sister-Krang finally said softly. “Say that you’re not— that you don’t— not for these weak, pathetic creatures—”

“Sister it’s— it’s complicated—” Uno tried, but his sister cut him off.

“They killed our brother!!” she insisted loudly, as though if she could just drive that point home enough, he’d come to his senses. “They slayed one of your own, Brother! Them! They are the direct reason we now stand as two rather than three! We will never see him again, because of them! How is that in any way, shape, or form, ‘complicated’?!”

She was more upset than Leo had ever actually seen her – if he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was about to cry.

“It’s—” Uno’s voice broke, frantically trying to dredge up any reasoning that she might accept. “I-I don’t— I can’t—”

“They’ve destroyed you!” Sister-Krang spat, her voice breaking just like his. “You’ve no loyalty towards Krang anymore! They’ve twisted you to be like them! You’re weak!!”

For the first time in this encounter, Leo felt angry. The only thing keeping him from drawing his swords and demanding she shut her rotten mouth was the absolutely shattered expression Uno was wearing.

And then Uno said, very quietly, “Run.”

Leo looked at him, confused. She knew they were attached, what could she do…?

She turned to the rest of the group. “You will all PAY for what you’ve done to them, I swear to you! I’ll make sure of it—!”

Still in an undertone, more urgently, “Pest, run.”

“YOU KILLED THEM!!” Sister-Krang shrieked, rounding back on Leo. Her voice was raw and angry and— “YOU KILLED MY BROTHERS!!”

She jerked forward, and Uno finally raised his voice, screaming “Run!!”

Leo realized too late he still hadn’t drawn his swords yet, and had to dodge back the old-fashioned way. The tentacle she lashed out with sliced across his cheek, drawing blood. It had happened so quick that, had Uno not immediately raised the alarm and put Leo on edge, it would have stabbed straight through his throat.

He heard Raph yell “Mad Dogs, let’s go!” as he danced back, and everybody rushing Sister-Krang was enough of a distraction for Leo to manage to get his swords out. He portalled away just about as soon as he did, because even with the distraction from his brothers she was lunging again.

A few yards away, trying to get his bearings, Leo pressed his hand to the cheek she’d cut, trying to determine how bad the damage actually was. It didn’t hurt too bad, but when he took his hand away his entire palm was red.

He felt silly for this literally a second later – looking over at Uno would’ve effectively shown how much damage he’d taken from the hit. Neon green poured down the side of his face. Uno didn’t look back. He was staring at the fight happening a little ways away from them, shell-shocked.

Sister-Krang, finally relocating where Leo and Uno had gone, lurched towards them again. Leo parried the thrust she’d aimed at Uno and danced back, making way for Raph to come in with a Power-Punch-Jutsu. She took each blow he gave her, ducked beneath them at the first available opportunity, then began tearing at what she could reach on Raph. Under the onslaught she was returning with, he also had to fall back.

Mikey was up next. Or he would’ve been if she hadn’t noticed him coming up on her, and snatched him up before he even managed to do anything. He was only spared from getting his head literally torn off his shoulders by Donnie swooping in on his jetpack and dropping several cherry-bomb-looking things on her, before scooping Mike up and zipping out of range again. Sister-Krang roared, swiping after them and only just barely missing.

Something occurred to Leo very abruptly. When they’d all fought the Krang before, the Krang had been fighting to win. They weren’t pulling any punches (obviously – they didn’t believe in that sort of thing), but they’d also… they’d very clearly wanted to be around to bask in their victory, if that made sense. There’d been survival-instinct-driven reservations still at play, making them gauge threat-levels and hold back just enough to ensure as much of their own safety as they could.

Sister-Krang wasn’t fighting to win. She was fighting like she had nothing to lose. They, meanwhile, were all hovering in an unfamiliar liminal space where they weren’t sure whether or not to engage, run, or try to talk to her. “Try” being the operative word – the concept was seeming more and more unlikely by the second.

She wanted them dead, clearly, but she was Uno’s sister. How do you reconcile that?

Well. How could Leo reconcile that. Everyone kept looking to him and Uno, trying to catch some indication as to what they should do. Thing was, Uno seemed to have completely checked out, and wasn’t likely to be any help in this situation.

Leo was saved from actually making any sort of executive decision by a faint beeping sound. Barely a second after he registered what he was hearing, he heard Donnie call out, “They’re coming! We need to leave, now!”

This, apparently, was enough to snap Uno back to reality. “Pest, we can’t leave her, not to them, not again—”

Sister-Krang either wasn’t paying a lick of attention to what they were doing, or she was just opting to use it as a distraction of her own. A tentacle cracked hard into Leo’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him back a ways. Before he could react enough to right himself, Raph was there, throwing him over his shoulder and making a break for it.

“Wait— no— Raphael wait—”

Leo didn’t have time to argue a case to either Raph or his parasite. Without warning, a— whattheheckwasitcalled, string-and-weighted-ball- trap— bola! Without warning, something like a bola (albeit one clearly designed for creatures with more than two legs) shot in from the far distance. It hit Sister-Krang in the tentacles as she tried to chase after them, bringing her to the ground.

It was at that point that Leo noticed the larger-than-average drone flying in above their heads. If he squinted, he might’ve been able to make out the eagle-holding-triangle logo printed on the side. Not that he would, because the logo on the thing wasn’t particularly attention grabbing compared to what it was carrying:

It had a large, clear container of synthetically-blue, vaguely luminescent liquid.

Leo had once seen April pull that exact same stuff out of her backpack, right before smacking it into a Krangified hoard so she and the rest of the group (sans Raph) could make their escape. She’d told him later it was some kind of herbicide, and the direct reason Sister-Krang only had one eye.

The drone flew directly above Sister-Krang as Raph and everyone else ducked out of view.

“What is that stuff?” Uno demanded, twisting to keep the drone in sight. “What is it—?! What is that?!”

There was a low tssss as the container opened.

Sister-Krang looked up and saw what was raining down on her. Her expression dropped as she realized what it was, exactly. There was a split-second where it looked as though she might continue her struggle to free herself, or else just try to roll away to dodge. But then Leo watched in slow-motion as she stopped struggling, closing her eye and going limp, and then—

There was instantly a sick, sizzling, hissing sound when the herbicide hit her flesh. Maybe it was just because it covered all of her, but she didn’t even scream. Within seconds, there was nothing left of Uno’s sister but a slurry of meat and fluids on the ground.

Over and done, just like that.

Nobody moved for a second. All anyone could bring themselves to do was stare, shocked and horrified. The only sound to be heard was the latent sizzling. Then Leo noticed a man coming around the corner, headed straight for the puddle. He had dark hair, dark glasses, and looked a little like D.B. Cooper, allegedly. Several other people (also in suits) trailed in behind him. He signaled to Raph (who had only managed to half put him back down after grabbing him), that it would be smartest to leave.

They all did.

They came to a stop on top of a building, far enough away from everything where it didn’t feel dangerous to try to talk. Leo looked at Uno, saw the look on his face, and didn’t know what to say.

“…so…” Raph finally said, to Uno of all people, finally breaking the silence. “That was, uh… thanks for, y’know, trying to stop her, back there, that was good of ya—”

He was trying. Leo could tell he was trying. He loved him so so so much for it, but—

“Shut up,” Uno growled, and it was unquestionably the darkest, most menacing tone Leo had ever heard him use. Even including their fights from when they first met. “Don’t you dare speak to me right now. Any of you. Don’t you DARE presume that any of that had to do with sentiment. The Krang do not—! We do not…!”

Leo watched his furious expression slip slowly from his face, unpleasant but irrefutable facts finally registering. “I-I do not…”

He disappeared into Leo’s shell so suddenly it almost seemed like he’d gotten sucked into it. There was a beat, then Mikey took a step forward, looking like he wanted to say something. Leo held up a hand to stop him, shaking his head. Not now.

They returned to the Lair in silence.

---

Leo woke up feeling anxious for reasons he couldn’t immediately pin down. He hadn’t been dreaming – Leo usually remembered his dreams, if he had any, and he definitely didn’t just then. Since he was tentatively sure it wasn’t subconscious bogeymen or whatever causing the feeling, he reflexively sat up a bit to look around his room for real bogeymen.

Nothing of note or concern, as far as he could see. His darkened room was exactly as he’d left it, and there was no one in it with him. Leo was alone.

…Leo was alone.

Leo was alone.

“Uno?” he called, sitting up all the way. No response. He was increasingly scared to realize he’d already sort of known he wouldn’t get one. Heartbeat quickening, he knocked insistently on his own shell a few times, repeating, “Uno? You awake?”

Silence.

Leo smacked the switch above his bed, turning on his lights, and swinging his legs over the side of his mattress. He looked at his arms, blinking hard and squinting, and just generally trying to hurry along the blindness that came with the sudden change in light.

They didn’t look any different. Uno had said there’d be flaking… His arms, legs, and plastron all looked normal, though. And he didn’t feel particularly uncomfortable…

“Uno?” he called again, uncomprehending. He wasn’t flaking, so Uno must still be here, right? Why wouldn’t he answer, then? He reached around to feel the back of his shell, which also felt normal. Was the flaking just… inside his shell, in the little pocket Uno had been in? That didn’t make sense though; he had to just be here and was just not answering for whatever reason, right—?

What reason did he have to be HONEST when he told you that?

Leo looked over to the door. He always slept with it closed. It stood just ever so slightly ajar, now. Not enough to be immediately noticeable, but…

He was on his feet, running through that door in record time.

The marathon he ran through the Lair didn’t reveal any Krangs. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to call out for him while he looked. Becoming steadily more panicked, he headed towards the entrance to start looking outside the Lair. 

He struck paydirt: His— …former, apparently – parasite was farther down the tunnel that led to the outside, moving slowly. 

There were probably a number of things Leo could’ve said or asked here. What he ended up blurting was, “Where are you going??”

Uno jolted a little, reflexively looking back towards him. As soon as he and Leo made eye-contact, though, he scowled and turned forwards again, moving just a bit faster. 

“Go back to your room, Pest.”

Leo took off after him, trotting to catch up. “Like hell.”

“It’s none of your business what I do, leave me alone.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s ‘my business.’ My issues weren’t your business; letting you in on things still worked out pretty good for me, I feel.”

“Why do you care?”

“‘Why do I—’? Because we’re friends??” Leo said, finally drawing level and making a grab for him. “Seriously dude, stop—!”

“Don’t touch me!” Uno snarled, swiping at him. Leo was taken aback by the force of it. “We are not ‘friends.’ We’re not anything anymore, in case you haven’t noticed. We’ve separated. We are nothing.”

Leo felt he deserved an award for managing to not roll his eyes. 

“Huh! Well! Watch me call the bulliest of shits on that!”

Uno moved to leave again, sneering, and Leo pounced. The resulting scuffle ended with Leo half-sitting, half-leaning on the ground, holding Uno in a half- bear-hug, half-headlock. 

“You’re not going anywhere until we talk first—!”

“Let go of me!” Uno yelled, struggling. 

‘Y’know how I KNOW we’re friends?’ Leo thought, but didn’t say. He was too busy fighting to keep his grip. ‘If we weren’t, you’d be doing a lot worse to me than just being SQUIRMY…’

“Where are you going?” he repeated. Then, remembering there was a whole list of questions he could – and probably should – be asking here, “I’m pretty decidedly not flaking right now even though we’re ‘separated’ – what happened to that whole concept?!”

“I was LYING, obviously!” Uno spat. “I told you all there’d be a sign signaling I’d be splitting off so I could take you unawares and kill you while you slept!”

“I got some real bad news for ya, Cuddlelumps! I think you skipped a step there!!”

Uno barked out a humorless laugh, wild and harsh, his struggles lessening just slightly. “Hardly any point in killing you now, is there? I’d intended to kill you so you wouldn’t cause any more problems for me and my sister once we’d reunited, and now— now—”

Leo wasn’t given the time to do anything about the new crack across his heart beyond registering it was there – Uno’s attempts to leave his grip picked up again full-force.

“Seriously, where are you even trying to go right now?” Leo pressed for a third time, fighting to hold on.

“Nowhere!” Uno barked. “Anywhere! It doesn’t matter! Just so long as I’m away from all of you and everything you represent!”

That… hurt, but not in a personal sort of way, oddly. “Did you only just split from me tonight?” 

“Obviously!” he snapped. “I split from you literally minutes ago! Take the time it took me to walk from your room to here and add thirty seconds! That is how long we’ve been separated!”

Another harsh, unstable non-laugh. “The universe is divinely fond of cruel irony, apparently – if I had split from you mere days earlier – hours, even – I might have— I could’ve—”

“Uno, there… there wouldn’t have been anything you could’ve done to help her, connected to me or not—”

“If I wasn’t connected to YOU I might have listened when my sister spoke SENSE! You lot murdered my brother, Pest. He’s gone, thanks to all of you. And I— I defended you, I-I—”

“Uno,” Leo said, softer than he’d even meant to, “don’t do this to yourself.”

Uno made a sound, derisive and angry and something else, and then Leo felt the energy shift.

“Pest, let me go,” Uno demanded again, suddenly. His attempts to escape were rapidly becoming less incensed and more panicked. Like he was scared. Leo was somewhere between confused and a little hurt, when something warm and wet hit his arm.

Uno was… crying. Like actually crying.

“Let me go, I said!” he repeated, straining against Leo’s grip. Now that Leo really listened, he could hear just how close his voice was to breaking.

Leo’s stomach dropped.

As they were, Uno’s back was pressed to Leo’s plastron. Leo abruptly began trying to rotate him around so they’d be face to face. Uno took it about as well as might be expected, and doubled his efforts to escape. Leo did, eventually, get him to sit forward in his lap, but getting him to actually look at him was a whole separate ordeal.

“Hey, heyheyheyhey, look at me Tentacruel, it’s okay—” Uno shoved the hands trying to redirect his face away, snarling and snapping at them, and trying to hide his expression as best he could. “Uno, seriously, shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, just look at me—”

Leo finally managed to get him to face forward, and the crack in his heart worsened into a full on shatter. Krang tears were red, as it turned out.

Uno gave him a defiant look through those tears, his breath rough as he tried to take in air.

“Are you happy now?” he snarled, furious. “You have v-visual confirmation of how thoroughly you’ve destroyed me! E-everything I was is gone, and now I’m weak just like you! Because of you! Congratulations, Pest, you did it!”

“Uno— what your sister said was wrong, you’re not—”

“She wasn’t, and I am! I’m so far gone I’ve accepted the companionship of the people who destroyed everything! For what? Because of their relation to you? Because – thanks to you – they now mean something to me? I’ve betrayed everything, everyone— You killed me, Pest, I’m dead!” His breathing was starting to spiral and his whole body began to shake. “I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead—”

“No you’re not—! No you’re not, stop! You’re right here with me, see?” Leo cupped his face in his hands, brushing away the red with his thumbs. “We’re right here.”

Uno lifted his tentacles as though to shove him away, but never actually did. Leo allowed himself to feel a second’s worth of accomplishment over the fact that, as much as Uno was still choking on his air, his intake of it had at least moved back from near-hyperventilation.

“There we go, just breathe, Horchata, there we go,” he soothed. “Now listen, okay? You’re not weak—”

“Pest, look at me, this isn’t—”

“D’you remember when Donnie had asked us to help us with his one sciencemajiggy?” Leo interrupted. “To try to find the Spine-Breaker? And he had me holding that thing, and I was like ‘yo my arms are getting tired,’ and then you helped me hold it up? Right, okay – my arms got tired because the muscles got tired, people are kinda the same as muscles, yeah? It doesn’t matter how ‘strong’ they are – the longer they have to hold onto something, no matter what it is, the more tired they get.”

He gently redirected Uno’s gaze back to him (he’d turned away again to try to hide the red rivers still streaming down his face). “How long have you been holding all this, honestly? I mean— yeah, everything that’s happened recently has been heavy and shitty, but we’re in too deep with each other for me to not at least kinda get the sense that this runs deeper than even what we’ve got going on. So how long have you been swallowing your feelings here? Least a thousand years? More? With more and more shit getting piled on top the whole time? Why are you weak for finally needing a break from that?”

Uno didn’t answer. Leo tried a different approach. “Tell me this: Did any of the Krang who decided these sorts of feelings were a big no-no for you guys go through even half of what you did? For a thousand fucking years? ’Cuz unless they did, I don’t really think their opinions should count for much. Also, even if they had, they’re dead now. You gonna let a buncha dead guys tell you how to live your life? I mean like. Babe. C’mon.”

He leaned down and pressed their foreheads together briefly. “You’re not dead or destroyed or WEAK. You’re sad, okay? You’re hurting.”

He took a breath as he straightened, then said, “Only way to make it make it go away is to just… let it happen, much as that sucks.” He swiped away a few more tears. “So... can you do that for me?”

Understanding was slow, but came eventually.

“I— n-no—” the panic from before was coming back, and Uno was trying to push his way out of Leo’s arms again.

“Uno— Uno, it’s gonna be okay, just let it out—”

Breath hitching, more panic, “Pest I can’t—”

“Shhh, yes you can, I’ve got you. I’m here.”

“If I start I’ll never stop—”

“Yes you will, I promise. Take it from the guy with experience: It won’t stop UNLESS you start. Might take a minute to get to the end, but that’s okay. I won’t leave you to drown once it’s all over.” Leo shifted them both, pulling Uno to his plastron. “You’re tired, and this time around I’m gonna help you hold everything. I’m right here.”

Uno’s transition to acceptance wasn’t smooth. It was something rough and gritty, like falling down a rocky hill. There were wild, flailing attempts to stop the descent, because the descent hurt, and he didn’t know what was waiting for him at the bottom. His fall was a tumbling succession of defiance, rage, and fear, until finally there was no more hill to fall down.

Until finally there was nothing left to do but cry from how much he hurt.

He pressed his face into Leo’s plastron still trying to hide, and the first open, broken sob of many shuddered out of his mouth.

“They’re both gone,” he said, gasping. “They’re both gone and I’ll never see them again. I don’t even remember the last thing I said to my brother. They killed my sister and I didn’t do anything to stop them. I’m still with the people who killed my brother. I’ll never get to talk to either of them again, or hear their voices or see their faces— I’m-I’m alone, again, and it’s never going to stop or get better—”

“No you’re not,” Leo cut in, hugging Uno closer. “You’re not. You’ve got me, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

Leo thought he’d been ready for this. He’d thought he’d be able to keep a straight face for it. He realized near instantly he’d been fooling himself. Tears had sprung to his eyes pretty much the second Uno finally let loose. Because what do you mean there was nothing he could do to take any of this pain away? What do you mean the moment Uno really needed some sort of tangible connection to somebody, anybody, they split apart?

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that at the end of everything, Leo had gotten love and hugs and acceptance from the people he cared about, and Uno got this. It wasn’t fair.

Leo shifted again, hugging Uno tighter and drawing up his knees to create as much of a protective shield around him as he could offer. He stared up at the tunnel’s ceiling above him, trying to keep himself together.

“They’re not going to let me stay with you,” Uno hiccupped. “Y-your family, they’re not going to let me stay now that we’ve separated—”

“They don’t need to know,” Leo assured him. He didn’t feel Uno was in the emotional place to accept the logic that Leo’s family wouldn’t send him off (or worse) after everything that had happened earlier that day. “They’re still expecting flaking, remember? You can just slide back into my shell like nothing happened. You can stay right there until things stop feeling so… like this, and then we can talk about what to do next. Or you could just… stay here period, if you want. Okay?”

Uno nodded against his plastron, whimpering (which felt viscerally wrong in the most crushing way possible). “Okay.”

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat, then repeated, “I’m not going anywhere, Uno. I promise.”

Uno clung to him harder (Leo clung back), and cried.