The warehouse stank of fish, stale beer, and unwashed bodies.

Mike held very still where they'd tied him up in some netting, and tried to keep his stomach from rebelling. He didn't want, or need, another crack to the head. He suspected he already had a concussion. Raph was going to give him hell for this. He could just imagine his brother's taunting voice.

'I always suspected you were brain damaged, but now we know for certain.'

A small smile lifted Mike's lips. He'd show Raph. The next time they sparred, he'd hand his brother his shell on a silver platter.

"When's the doc comin'?" one of the punks whined.

Mike slitted one eye open—the other was crusted shut with dried blood—and looked around. Seth and ten of his buddies sat on old packing crates, sipping beer and smoking something foul smelling. The gang leader was flipping a knife idly as he watched the large sliding doors to the warehouse. The blade flashed in the fluorescent lights as it spun, and the handle made a soft smacking sound each time Seth caught it.

Spin, flash, smack.

Spin, flash, smack.

"Doctor should be here," Spin, flash, smack, "in ten minutes or so."

Spin, flash, smack.

Mike blinked and shook his head gently. Gotta focus, he chided himself.

He tried moving his right arm again. The gang members had taken his 'chucks, but his belt was still in place, and he hoped they hadn't searched it too thoroughly. If he could get to his communicator, he could at least turn it on so his brothers would know what they were walking into. He had no doubt they'd come for him. He just hoped they'd be able to find him before this doctor character arrived and carted him off to some secret lab to be dissected and studied.

Mike hissed in pain as his movements jarred his wounded shoulder.

"You awake again, Greenie?" Seth asked.

Mike cringed inwardly but lifted his head to meet the gang leader's dark eyes. "Guess I am."

Two of the gang members got to their feet, thick pieces of wood in their hands.

"Leave him be." Seth took a long drag on his cigarette. "We want him to be in good shape for the doc."

The two thugs looked back at Seth uncertainly. The gang leader glared at them until they returned to their seats. His gaze went back to Mike.

"I seem to recall a picture of four freakishly large turtles in the papers a while back. You crashed a nightclub or something."

"Yeah. So?" Mike retorted.

Seth took another drag. "So, those other three freaks can't be far away, right? Will they come for you? The doc's promised me a couple grand for you, but how much would he pay for all four?"

Mike forced a laugh. "A couple grand? Surely I'm worth at least a million. Maybe more. How much do you think he's going to make off me? You got gypped, dude."

Seth's minions grumbled to each other.

Seth threw the knife which landed point down in a nearby crate. He stalked forward and thrust his face into Mike's.

"As long as I have you, "dude", I can renegotiate the price."

He grabbed Mike's left shoulder, digging his thumb into the bullet wound. Mike yelled in pain as his vision greyed out.

"If I were you," Seth hissed, "I'd shut my mouth. You don't want another knock to the head, do you?" He patted Mike's cheek, leaving a bloody smear behind, then went back to his seat. He yanked the knife from the wood and began flipping it again.

Mike sagged in the netting. Despite Seth's confident attitude about capturing his brothers, Mike was pretty sure the gang leader would get his butt handed to him when Leo, Raph, and Donny showed up. Mike hoped they'd show soon. He didn't want to endure Seth's hospitality any longer than he had to.

Casey parked the van in the darkness between two warehouses. Don was the first one out, followed by Raph, Leo, and Kiira. Casey joined them, and Kiira's eyes widened at the paraphernalia she saw in the golf bag he pulled over one shoulder. Someone was going to be in a world of hurt.

"That one there," Don said, pointing to a dilapidated warehouse.

"Alright, let's go," Kiira said.

Leo put a hand on her shoulder. "You should stay here."

Raph nodded. "This is going to get messy."

Kiira set her jaw. "You're all going. You want me to just stay here with the van?"

Raph folded his arms over his chestplate. "That's the idea."

"We may need to make a quick get away," Don said. At least he had the grace to look apologetic.

Casey held the keys out to her with a smile.

She snatched them out of his hand, glaring. "Thought you were going to look out for me. At least leave me with a bat. If some punk comes wandering by, I don't want to be defenseless."

Casey pulled a heavy wooden bat from the bag on his back and handed it to her. "Aim for the head and swing hard."

"Thanks," she said dryly.

She leaned against the van and watched them literally melt into the shadows. If she hadn't been watching their stealthy progress, she probably wouldn't have known they were there. Once they were far enough away that they wouldn't hear her, Kiira made sure the van was locked, tucked the keys into her pocket, and followed.

"I hope they don't kill me for this," she muttered.

But she wouldn't stay behind. She'd abandoned Mike once already.

I won't get involved in the battle, unless I have to, she promised whatever Fate or deity might be listening. I just need to make sure he's okay.

She had no idea how Casey and the turtles had planned to enter the warehouse, but as she approached, she saw a stack of crates against one side. They led up to a window, and Kiira decided that was her point of entry. As she crossed the open space between one warehouse and her destination, she heard the roar of an approaching engine. She darted forward and dove behind a crate as two large black vans—driving without their lights on—pulled up and parked in front of the warehouse. Kiira peeked around the corner and watched as four burley men, and a tall, slender man exited the vans and headed for the large double doors.

"This can't be good," she whispered to herself.

Clutching her bat tightly, she scaled the crates that led up to the window. Metal bars covered the glass, but they'd been cut and bent outward on the far side. Kiira slipped through the gap and into the warehouse through the broken windowpane. A catwalk circled the building on three sides, and she dropped to the metal grating then inched forward until she could see over the edge.

The first thing she saw were several young men lounging on a bunch of broken crates in the middle of the warehouse. She looked around and found Mike tangled in netting toward the back of the building. Blood covered the left side of his body from a wound in his shoulder, and she prayed he was still alive.

A loud banging sounded from the warehouse doors, and two thugs got up to pull them open. The slender man and his four bodyguards from the black vans entered and crossed to the young men on the crates. One of them stood up—probably the leader—and addressed the new comers. Kiira couldn't make out the words, but the gang leader gestured to Mike.

She could see no sign of the other three turtles and Casey.

"Come on, guys" Kiira whispered. "Where are you?"

She crept along the catwalk toward the back of the building where Mike hung. A staircase led down to the warehouse floor, but there'd be nowhere for her to hide if she went down that way. If anyone looked back, she'd be spotted for sure.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?!"

The loud voice startled Kiira and she crouched on the catwalk, looking down into the warehouse. The gang leader and the slender man in the suit seemed to be arguing about something. All eyes were fixed on the two.

Now's my chance, she thought.

Gripping her bat, she darted for the stairs. She toed off her shoes and picked them up, running down the stairs as quickly as she could on silent feet. She slipped behind some boxes and tried to breathe quietly, listening to hear if anyone had noticed her. The gang leader was still yelling. Kiira peeked around the boxes. Mike hung a few feet away from her. The gang and the man with his bodyguards were moving toward the doors of the warehouse. Maybe the deal was off. She could only hope. Kiira slipped her shoes back on and headed for Mike.

He looked up as she approached, and something in her chest eased. He was alive.

"You shouldn't be here," he whispered.

"I'm not alone. Your brothers are here too. Somewhere." She set the bat down and started working on the knots around Mike's wrists. "Once I get these undone, we go up the stairs over there, then out the window. There's some crates that lead down to the street, and I'll get you back to the van where we'll wait for your brothers."

Mike let out a groan as his wounded arm fell free. Fresh blood began to ooze from the wound. Kiira pulled off her tee-shirt, leaving her in a cami top and bra.

No time to feel embarrassed, she thought, cringing, as she pressed her shirt to the wound in Mike's shoulder.

"Hey!" a male voice rang out. "Wha'chu doin' back there?"

Kiira froze, a thrill of fear going through her body. She met Mike's eyes and saw his fear too. For some reason that calmed her. With steady hands, she finished tying her shirt around the wound, then picked up her bat and faced the gang.

"I'm making sure my friend here doesn't bleed to death while you idiots haggle over price."

The gang leader and the lean man in the suit led their respective people toward her, stopping a few feet away.

"You seem pretty cocky, little girl," the gang leader said.

Kiira rested the bat on her shoulder. "I'm feeling a little cocky. You hurt my friend, then kidnapped him. And I'm pretty sure you're trying to sell him to the suit there, so now my protective instincts have kicked in."

Just buy some more time, she told herself. Mike's brothers are going to jump in here any second. Just keep the bad guys' attention on you.

The gang leader leered at her, looking her up and down. "I like tough chicks. Maybe you and I can get to know each other better, after I've concluded my business with Mr. Suit here."

"Over my dead body," Mike growled from behind Kiira.

The gang leader grinned. "That's the plan, man."

"Oh for the love of little green apples." Kiira swung the bat out in front of her. Several of the gang members backed away. "If anyone comes a step closer, I'll knock your block off. Now go stand over in that far corner while I finish untying my friend. Then you'll let us walk out of here, and maybe I won't report your illegal activities to the authorities."

Kiira caught movement behind the assembled gang members and bodyguards and saw Casey heading for the group, a bat in each hand, hockey mask over his face. She still didn't see the other turtles.

"And what will you do if we don't let you and your . . . "friend" . . . walk out of here?" the gang leader asked.

Kiira smirked. "You really don't want to know."

As if on cue, the lights in the warehouse went out.