Disclaimer

The TMNT and TMNT universe is property of Viacom Entertainment, based on characters created by Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird. This story is non-profit and for the fans.

Genres

Action, Suspense, Sci-Fi, Drama, H/C, Angst - Leonardo POV

Warnings

Mild language, moderate violence

A/N

I wrote this one for a Secret Santa challenge on deviantArt. My recipient asked to see Leonardo showing some brotherly love towards his siblings, so I of course wrote them all into a horrifying situation and forced the boy in blue to try and rescue their tails from the fire. This is a character study into the Fearless Leader and focuses a lot on his one-on-one interactions with each of his brothers. I'm going to upload one chapter per week, every Sunday, for a total of seven chapters.

Enjoy, and thanks for reading! :D

Prologue

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They say you don't know what you've got until it's gone, but I never found truth in that. For instance, I have always appreciated the hard work and study it's takes to become a ninja. I've trained most of my nineteen years in the mastery of ninjutsu; the majority of those in the many forms and techniques of combat, a decade or more devoted to the arts of stealth and strategy, two years in mastering meditative alteration of consciousness, and I spent a single (awful) summer ingesting small doses of various poisons in an attempt to build immunity. Despite its obvious ups and downs, I have always felt that this was not only the right path, but have always considered myself fortunate to have been raised by such a skilled teacher; "born" into a family that celebrated these types of things. I've given my life to training with them, against them, and ultimately for them. Years of dedicated study and perseverance have made me into the skilled warrior I am today. However, there is another thing I've always held fast to, instinctually, organically; something a part of me as much as any of my limbs, though if I had to choose I'd sooner cut off the limb. This is a thing I was never taught, and in truth my master chose me to lead our clan in part because of it. He saw in me, even at a young age, a sense that I alone exhibited: that no matter the circumstances, I always put my brothers first.

I have never once taken them for granted, and I have never assumed that life would be the same without even a single one of them in it. So when they disappeared, I didn't think. I moved forward, prepared, because I knew this. I knew it, because it had been my single worst nightmare for as long as I could remember.

My name is Hamato Leonardo, and I have never valued anything more than family. Let me tell you a story…

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CHAPTER 01

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This was the single worst moment of my life. I knew this, even as it was happening.

I put my hand on the mechanism that powers the first of a double set of doors leading to our lair, and there I paused, frozen, the knowledge of what I was about to do finally sinking in. Even though my head was pounding, even though I was minutes away from blacking out, I hesitated. I came for a purpose, to do this in person rather than call. It just hadn't felt real until right then, and when my fingers touched the fake stone Donatello had crafted over the switch, making it indistinguishable from the surrounding wall – that's when it hit me. This was really happening. It had already happened. And I was going to have to face Splinter and tell him.

I had come home alone.

It was late, and Sensei was asleep. I tapped firmly on the sliding door, rattling the paper between dividers. "Master Splinter? Come quickly… something's happened!"

I heard him moving immediately. Seconds later the door pulled back and there stood my father, looking worried, outlined in the glow of a single bedside candle. "Leonardo. What is it, my son?"

"I-I'm…" I was what? Sorry? The word didn't even begin to describe how I felt. My chest was made of lead; I couldn't speak, I couldn't even find the breath to speak. I stalled, unable to express the utter defeat I felt, unwilling to admit to my father, my sensei, that this day had come.

I fell to my knees in shame, still cradling the arm I'd twisted, still squinting at the blood that had trickled into my left eye. "Sensei, I failed you. I lost them… all three of them."

He grabbed my chin, pulling my face upwards to meet his. "They have perished?!"

I stared at him wildly, trying to choke back my emotions, my voice cracking. "I-I don't know. There was an explosion… I looked but I c-couldn't find them…"

Splinter relaxed and bowed his head, gathering himself. He grabbed me by the shoulders then and pulled me in, embracing me. "Then they may yet be alive. Come." He helped me stand. "I will treat your wounds and you may start at the beginning."

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To really start at the beginning, I have to go back six months, back to when the invasion began. If it hadn't been for that, the city wouldn't have turned into a warzone, and we wouldn't have been in that warehouse in the first place. The Zetas had been moving some big artillery in and selling it to the Purple Dragons, who had no business with such weaponry, except to add to the chaos. I didn't believe for a second that they were arming themselves to help fight the real threat; rather they were trying to increase their standing in a grab for power amongst the other gangs. So while the criminals of the city fought each other, scrambling to get to the top of their twisted food chain, we were left fighting the bloodthirsty monsters which somehow kept pouring up from the tunnels below, decimating everything in their path.

It was New Year's Eve, when aliens invaded New York City. There was no warning. My brothers and I were huddled on a rooftop near Time's Square, thanks to Mike, who dragged us out into the freezing cold every year in order to watch the ball drop. That year, the countdown never made it.

"'The hell is that?"

It was Raph who saw them first. I looked up, following his line of sight, and saw a few large dots moving in the sky. For the first couple of minutes we just watched, not really sensing danger, but wondering instead if it was a part of the show. Every year it seemed like the holiday's festivities were trying to top the last, and I admit I don't really keep up the latest in special effects. It wasn't until the ships came into view that I started to get a bad feeling, and when I looked around at my brothers, I could see the same look across all their faces.

The murmur of the crowds below escalated until the first ship fired, and then it became mass hysteria. We ducked into the shadows of a rooftop garden.

"Guys, what are we gonna do?!" Mike said.

They all looked at me. Before I could answer, a blast rocked the side of the building we were on, shaking it on its foundation. It was enough to make my decision for me. "Just go, get to the sewers!" I shouted, and we went, trying to stay out of sight as we retreated to cover. The streets were filled with people, but it was dark and we were clothed for the weather, so it wasn't difficult to slip away in the chaos. We made it home without incident, where we called our friends and stayed glued to the TV for the next forty-eight hours. Absolutely everything changed in that time. We watched as poorly-shot videos streamed in, showing three large UFOs opening their doors to release the nightmarish, insect-like abominations that would tear the city to shreds over the next six months. Even as it was happening, we could hardly believe it. Even months into fighting them, it didn't seem real.

My brother Donatello was suspicious from the start. "Why here?" he kept asking. "Why not invade DC?" No one knew. The talking heads tossed around theories, but reports from the front lines were spotty and full of misinformation. Were the invaders looking for something in particular, or was this a message? New York was a hub of American culture, perhaps they sought to weaken our resolve before launching a bigger attack. I could see that. It was a common tactic in war, to demoralize your opponent. Regardless, the "why" of it didn't matter, not when we had bigger worries. While martial law was being established and the military was moving in on all sides, local law enforcement did its best to stand up to the first attacks. Though they were outnumbered, they continued to fight even as the situation escalated. Armed citizens banded together as small, private militias. And of course, my brothers and I were on their side, though they never knew it. We tried our best to push them back. In the beginning, it seemed like we had a chance.

People tried to flee the city all at once. Riots broke out. It was complete anarchy. One of our first priorities was getting our friends, April and Casey, to the lair before too much of the violence reached them. They stayed with us for a few weeks before we escorted them through the tunnels to the north, where Casey "borrowed" a car to take them the rest of the way to Northampton. We considered joining them, but in the end decided that we couldn't turn our backs on the situation. There was no doubt that we were out of our league with this one, but we weren't ready to give up on our home.

The weeks became months, the weather became warmer, and the city changed. We hit the bugs (as we started calling them, and you can imagine how thrilled Raphael was about it) at every opportunity, pulling the wings off of every one we could, though in the literal sense, not all of them could fly. In one fight we were attacked by long, worm-like creatures with mouthfuls of sharp, needlelike teeth. They were surprisingly fast and agile. I think every one of us was bitten at some point, Mikey the worst, and I remember him complaining nonstop about the welts itching for days after. Another fight saw us facing small, Frisbee-sized ants. At first they didn't seem like much, but their strength was in numbers. They poured from the sewers in an unending wave, their pincers cutting us to ribbons. In that one, we barely made it to higher ground before we were overrun. We found it strange how much the invaders varied in size and shape. Some were even humanoid, or sported humanlike features and attributes. Those versions were always stronger and more organized it seemed, and we found ourselves retreating more often when they entered the fray. (Oh and for the record – all things considered, Raphael did pretty good. I only saw him lose composure once, when we faced the Spidermen in Gramercy. It was a messy battle and Raphael, covered in spider guts, tossed his lunch in the corner when he didn't think I was looking. I kept it to myself. For a guy with an insect phobia, he was maintaining much better than I ever would have imagined.)

Aside from the obvious threat, there was another element to the invasion which we hadn't foreseen. The looting and increase in crime I expected. What I didn't expect was the organization. When the invasion began, the gangs of New York City went one of two ways: either they disbanded and left, scared off by the monstrosities, or they saw opportunity in that very same thing. Alliances were made between the factions, and soon we found ourselves battling our old enemies alongside new. The bugs would align with no one, though. The invaders had one agenda, and that was only to destroy. They would spill from underground points in droves, a mindless, aggressive force, wiping out everything in their path under a wave of animalistic destruction. There was no way to reason or communicate with them. I didn't even think there was communication between them; at first I was convinced that they must be very primitive. These couldn't be the same beings responsible for building and operating the spaceships they'd arrived in, and so it stood to reason that there must others, more intelligent, pulling the strings. It was Donatello who educated me, as he often does, on the more subtle ways insects exchange information. Sound, smell – even species here on Earth were known to have very complex and sophisticated ways of "talking" to each other, ways we were yet to fully understand. Who knew what this alien race was capable of. We knew nothing of them.

It was impossible to know what the invaders' intentions were; why they were here or what they wanted. Our old enemies though – there was never any question. And unfortunately, the lives of my family were still high on their list. Even with the military battling it out with an alien race right here on our streets, old vendettas still held true.

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I woke up in the lair, Splinter by my bedside. Right away it all came back, and I realized what must have happened. I'd finally lost my fight with consciousness.

"How long was I out?" I was in a panic.

"Easy, my son. It has been two hours." He lowered his head. "I have not been able to contact any of your brothers."

I barely heard him. I bolted from the cot, one of several in the infirmary off of Donatello's lab, giving a quick glance to my wounds, dressed now in clean bandages. My hand went to my chest on instinct, looking for the strap that held my swords. I scanned the room, crazed, finding them against the wall nearby and made for them. "Master Splinter, there's no time to lose," I told him, strapping my weapons on. "We have to go after them, we have to find them!"

He stood. "My son, please. You must first tell me what's happened! You are injured, and it is no longer safe to travel outside our home, even with one's wits about him. You must rest. I will go, I will search for your brothers."

"No," I said, a bit too firm. I wasn't accustomed to using that tone of voice with my master, and it surprised the both of us. I pulled the leather through with a snap, securing my swords. "We go together. I'll fill you in on the way."

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After a routine raid on one of the many abandoned establishments the Purple Dragons were now squatting in, Mike and Raph got a tip that there was a big arms shipment coming in from Honduras. It was all supposed to go down in the Meatpacking District that night between the Zetas and the Dragons. Though I was skeptical about the source of this information, when we got there, everything seemed as it should be. From inside a nearby building, we watched the trucks pull in and opted to wait for a little while, just to assess. Donnie and I were doing most of the assessing though, which was normal, while the "brawn-over-brains" part of our outfit occupied themselves farther down the catwalk. Mike was going on about some TV show or game, I wasn't really sure. I watched the two of them joke around for a few minutes. Mike was getting a little loud, but I let it go. He was keeping Raph happy, and besides, no one knew we were there.

"Donnie?" I asked. "What've you got?"

He squinted through his goggles. "Pretty light on security. We've got a few milling around the entrance to the building, where the trucks came in," he said. "I picked up two more at the end of the driveway though, watching the entrance."

I turned and gave my orders. "Raph, Mike. Go take out the guards at the end of the street and meet back here."

"On it, boss," Mikey said, and they left, dropping down from the catwalk and heading out without a sound.

I wiped at the dirty glass with my arm and took a closer look but I stayed low, just in case. Don was right. I could pick out the men walking back and forth on the ground. "You sure that's all?" I asked him. "Based on what Mike and Raph said, I expected this to be a bigger operation. What about inside?"

He lowered the thermal goggles and gave me a testy look. "Well I can't exactly see through walls, Leo. There's probably more inside guarding the shipment, but I doubt it's too many. There's only two vehicles present." He sighed, bringing the goggles back up again. "It hardly matters, we can't make a move until the last guests arrive, and I haven't seen a Dragon ye- wait! Hold that thought." He reached up, twisting the dials on his goggles like a madman. "That's them! I've got a car and a van… looks like three coming from the car, packing small, probably glocks… van has four bodies – wait, make that five. Similar getup, but I see two MGs, about the size of uzis."

I nodded, taking it all in. Guns were always a concern, but this was good news. Uzi's were notoriously inaccurate, and in the dark they wouldn't have the advantage over us anyways. The plan was to cut the power and take them all out as fast as possible. Don had already rigged a small explosive onto the main breaker for the building and was ready to turn out the lights at the push of a button. But first we had to get inside. Raph and Mike returned without incident, and I thought things were going smooth. I didn't want to wait any longer. We left our lookout and started moving in. There was even a perfect entry point; a large, broken window high up with access to the catwalks and rafters, the interior of which just happened to be completely shrouded in darkness. Too perfect, as it turned out. Had I just stopped to investigate… it was only thinking back when I realized I stepped over broken glass, a clear sign that the window had been busted recently, and from the inside out. How could I have missed that? After all of Master Splinter's teachings, after he'd warned me time and time again not to fall victim to one of the most common mistakes in what we do, I still let overconfidence cloud my thinking. For wasn't a ninja's greatest enemy, himself?

I should have noticed the glass. I should have known that two guards was too light on security for what they were guarding. I should have realized that the thugs Mike and Raph had squeezed information out of would talk. I did, but I severely underestimated them. I just thought they'd increase their numbers, and that we would deal with it. I thought we were prepared. I never could have guessed that it was a set-up from the start.

I should have realized it was a trap.

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I remember getting inside. I remember looking down on the scene below and wondering why there were so few men there. It seemed strange that the others hadn't come in from outside yet. I held up my hand, signaling my brothers to hold position while I tried to figure out what was going on. It was the last thought I had before the ear-shattering bang; and then I was thrown forward, falling, the walls coming down on top of me. I landed badly, felt debris rain down on top of me, and then it all went dark.

I woke sometime later, dazed, not thinking clearly. I'd sustained (what didn't realize then) a significant hit to the head, amongst other small, insignificant injuries. I remember the headache and the blood running down my face, but I was hardly aware of it. When I came around, my own health was the last thing I was concerned with.

I crawled out from underneath a section of metal sheeting that had come loose from the wall. As I started to piece together what I was seeing – the building caved in at one corner, the catwalk we'd been standing on a twisted, gnarled mess – I started to panic, calling out my brothers' names and shoving junk aside. That's when I heard voices and saw the lights from outside. I didn't think, I just pushed into the shadows on instinct, watching and listening. More trucks started to arrive and I had to make a decision. I couldn't see any sign of my brothers. Maybe they'd already gotten out? Maybe they were okay. The voices were getting closer. I slipped around to the opposite end of the warehouse and hid between the stacks of empty crates, away from the damage and away from the men investigating it. There wasn't much I could do but watch. Several men were there, looking over the damage and talking to each other. I was in shock, unsteady on my feet and I could feel myself starting to black out. I fought it. I had to hear what they were saying.

"… van outside?"

"Probably deal gone bad… IEDs, looks like military grade…"

"…friggin' black market… tellin' ya, it's outta control…"

They were carrying heavy guns and dressed in camouflage, but not uniformly. These looked like local militia to me, not official military. For reasons we didn't know, it was rare to see actual soldiers here inside the fire zone, which included all of Manhattan, a good portion of Brooklyn and about half of Queens. The military kept the borders locked down though. Jersey was inadmissible, even for us and our subterranean pathways. Strangely, it almost seemed as if they were trying to keep the bugs contained here, while doing nothing to actually stop them.

They began sifting through the rubble. My chest seized. What if they found my brothers? One of them could be lying unconscious in there, like I was. They'd think we were aliens and shoot on sight. I pulled one sword, sloppily, just in case I had to intervene. I tried to watch from between the layers of dusty canvas, sheets of it draped over the wooden crates I was pushed up against. My head was pounding so bad that I was seeing double. Again, I fought it with everything I had. The men searched through for a while, still talking to one another, but I couldn't hear what was being said. After a while they seemed satisfied and regrouped near the entrance. One of them broke away and moved closer to where I was hidden. When he'd put enough distance between himself and the others, he pulled a radio and began speaking into it.

"Dispatch, this is unit seven-oh-four, Alpha Squad, reporting in on that explosion."

"Copy that, Seven-oh-four Alpha, what's your report."

"No sign of bugs, looks like the locals setting off fireworks again."

"Alpha, did you search for casualties?"

"We did, none to report. We saw blood, but whoever's leaking must've walked outta here. Found some weird stuff though… ninja stars, nunchucks. Some kinda pointy, pronged weapons."

"Goddamn gook gangs."

The soldier laughed. "Yep, same as before. Got a bag full of grenades too, looks homemade. What I wouldn't pay to watch 'em go head to head with the webslingers. Do us all a favor, ya know?" The grenades, that would be Donatello's bag of tricks. I didn't hear mention of phones, but I wasn't worried. Don designed them to be untraceable in such an event. I couldn't explain it like he could (not that we'd understand the explanation, probably) but from what I gathered, anyone trying to crack into them would cause an automatic memory wipe to occur. I didn't care about any of that though, because it all paled in comparison to why I was here listening in the first place: no bugs, no casualties. They found my brothers' gear, but not their bodies. Relief washed over me in a downpour. It was so overwhelming I had to steady myself against the crates. The feeling didn't last. I frowned, looking over the scene. So if they weren't here, where the hell were they? No bodies didn't mean living bodies somewhere else. I didn't want to run with those thoughts, but just looking at the destruction to the catwalk and surrounding area was enough to plant the seed. I just hoped that whoever pulled my brothers from the mess of metal, concrete and glass had pulled them out still breathing. The human standing close to me spoke again, but I was fading fast and couldn't focus on everything he said.

"…repeat, no bugs at scene, we are clearing out… dispatch… keep lookout… black van, painting of a giant snake or something on the side…"

I snapped back to attention at that. A van, with a… no, not a giant snake. A Chinese dragon. It was the same one Don and I had watched pull in from across the street. He was calling it in, so they must've seen it leaving the scene. I made a mental note of it. I was fighting to stay upright but luckily they left soon after that, and I was able to resume my own search, which mostly amounted to me yelling my brothers names until my throat hurt. I hauled brick and tossed aside wood, I cut myself on jagged bits of metal and glass, digging through the mess to find anything, any sign of them. But of course there was nothing, except the small pile of weapons the men had picked out and tossed to one side. The militiamen had already upturned everything, and I had a feeling they weren't the first to do so. At a loss, I headed for home to my father, who I always sought out when I needed guidance.

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Splinter didn't have much to say after I told my story. After laying out all the facts, we agreed that there only one conclusion: my brothers, one or more, had been taken by the Purple Dragons. However, it was still possible that not all of them were taken. One of them could be hurt, hiding out, unable to contact us. Or he could be on his way home. Or… they could still be buried beneath the wreckage. I'd watched the soldiers search, I'd searched myself – but there were still pockets of debris, too heavy to move with our hands. What if one of them was lying crushed beneath all of it? My heart lurched at the thought. There were so many unknowns. That was the worst part, being unsure of what direction to go in. One misstep could mean life or death and I could hardly bear the weight of it. What if we didn't find them? What if they were waiting for rescue, while we wasted time debating, looking for clues? They could be anywhere.

No. I closed my eyes and centered myself. When I opened them again, it was with resolve. I was going to find them. I swore it then, in my heart. I would not rest until I found my brothers and brought them all home.

Splinter and I went back to the scene, to approach it all with a clearer head, though despite what I told him, mine was still a little fuzzy. Still, I don't know if it was the short nap I'd taken, or the fact that the initial shock had worn off, but I had a much firmer grasp on things than I'd had hours before. I approached it like a detective, remembering Sensei's teachings in hunting and tracking. In the end, we didn't turn up any dead bodies (much to our immense relief), but we didn't turn up any live ones either. There were signs, however. Tracks in the dirt, footsteps (sneakered shoes, not combat boot) leading out and most damning – lines in the dirt, spattered with blood, as if someone had been dragged. The question of who – whether the Dragons were pulling their own injured out of the blast, or dragging my stunned or unconscious brothers into their van – I couldn't tell, but there was no denying that they weren't here. It was now several hours without contact and we had to assume they'd been taken. And while the fact that we'd found no bodies should've put my mind at ease, it only opened the door to more worrying questions. What would the Dragons do with them? I didn't think our beef with the gang would extend so far that they'd target us for anything but monetary gain. Concepts like honor and revenge didn't come in to play with the non-ninja clans quite as much. Most likely they'd auction my brothers off to the highest bidder, and I knew of at least one enemy with a big enough wallet to "foot" the bill, so to speak.

With the trail cold, we needed a lead. It was time to "shake down the local criminal element," as Raphael would have said. Considering recent events, I had a feeling that that was going to prove to be more tricky than usual.

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After much convincing, Splinter finally accepted that I was lucid enough to conduct the rest of the search that evening on my own. He headed back to the lair, just in case one of them did come home and was in need of help. Given the size of the blast and taking note of my own condition, it was likely that the three of them were also suffering some sort of injury and I didn't want the lair to be empty if that was the case. The night was almost gone however; daybreak was only hours away and I wasn't hopeful. I headed towards the Lower East Side, Dragon territory, to case some of their known hangouts, but all was quiet. What few establishments there were left operating weren't exactly doing so at this hour. I found no sign of the van. Exhausted and heartbroken, I slipped back underground at the first hint of light. Splinter greeted me when I arrived. He tried his best to hide his disappointment as I gave my report, which of course only made it worse. I opted to sleep just a few hours while I waited for the world above to wake and go on with its business. It was not a restful sleep.

When I awoke I first wandered into Don's lab to see if I could find anything useful. As if I'd know where to start. It was no secret that my brother was a brilliant strategist and engineer, but one look at his living space only screamed "mad scientist." There were books stacked, toppling, and in some cases, fallen into a heap. Electronic bits and pieces scattered every surface. Peg boards, notepads and dry-erase boards covered the walls, covered themselves with scribbled bits of indecipherable notes and equations. In a few places, I saw where he'd actually gone off the board and kept writing onto the wall. Bits and pieces of mechanical devices. Coffee cups. Multiple computers. Junk everywhere, not that I'd call it that to his face. Doing so would only get me one of Don's patented long-winded explanations on the purpose and importance of each thing in there. Looking around, I realized we were going to have to have another (quiet) discussion about creating such an appealing habitat for rodents.

I sat down at his desk and tapped on one of the keyboards there. A screen lit up and asked for a password. Figured. With the amount of times Mike's tried to snoop around in here, I guess that shouldn't have come as a surprise. I slumped back into the chair and swung it around. There were blueprints and maps tacked to one wall, over the top of what strangely enough looked like a short, metal turtle. There were wires sticking out and parts missing, but I could still make it out. And that's when I realized Don had been building a turtle-shaped robot in his spare time. Maybe mad scientist wasn't all that far off the mark after all.

I stood up to get a closer look at the maps. A low hum came from the mini-fridge close by, but you wouldn't find it stocked with sodas. I started to think about the last time Don reached in and pulled out one of his test tubes, showing me his latest discovery.

.

"It doesn't make sense," he kept saying. "I detected various insect and human DNA. There's nothing foreign here."

I leaned back against the wall and crossed my arms. He'd called me in because he'd finished looking over the alien tissue samples. We were fourteen weeks into the invasion, Casey and April had already fled for Northampton, and my brothers and I were a small force against a never-ending hoard of monsters.

"So what does it mean?" I asked.

He shook his head slightly and continued talking as if he hadn't heard me. "I can't rule out other possibilities. Could there be another planet, sharing similar characteristics of Earth? Are we dealing with something in the realm of quantum theory? A multiverse, a time travel situation? Any attempt to explain this sounds crazy." He sat back in the chair and frowned at me. "I don't think we're looking at any of those possibilities though."

He was evading the question. Which meant I wasn't going to like this answer. I asked him again. "Donnie. What-do-you-think-it-means?"

He looked me straight in the eye. "Leo, I don't think they're aliens at all. I think they're mutants."

Mutants? Don's theory didn't exactly make more sense, at least to me. Why would mutants be taking over New York? We watched them come in on ships with our own eyes. Were they created on some other planet using our DNA, or was the entire thing a farce? No demands had been made, no communication attempted. We didn't know who they were, what they wanted, or why they were attacking us.

Don had theories. He always has theories but, well… one of them is usually always right. "I think it's in-house," he said. "Tensions are boiling across the globe, war is brewing. Elections are coming up." I grimaced and he tried to explain. "Look, I know how it sounds. We're edging into conspiracy theory here. It's just… the alien invasion thing looks weak to me. I mean, just look at the size of these ships," he said, going to the computer. "Limited space. It's been months! We alone have taken out enough to fill a single ship." He clicked around, pulling up files. I sighed, having seen it all before. We knew they were multiplying somehow. He wasn't wrong, I just wasn't sure if I was ready to buy the fact that someone had orchestrated this whole thing. Or, well… not someone. I knew who he was talking about.

He turned his palms up and looked at me for a long second, before he said, "Current intel suggests that Bishop's been connected to some operation up north." He crossed his arms. "Something big. And now, coincidentally, we've got "aliens," which are really mutants, running around? You know, when too many of the plugs start fitting into too many of the ports…"

"Okay, I hear you." I added, "I also heard 'current intel.'"

Don looked caught. I praised my brother on his data mining abilities, but I often questioned the red herrings he sometimes followed. He was still new to the whole espionage game and smart or no, it was often difficult to know who, or what info, to trust. "My sources are sound!" he tried to explain. "This time. Ahm... anyways. I can't prove it yet, but this whole thing reeks of his involvement. And," he continued, pulling up more documents on his computer, "he's been spotted inside the northern blockade. Right around this area." He tapped the screen over the top of the West Bronx. The Hot Spot. I knew it well. The highest concentration of alien (or mutant, if Donnie was to be believed) activity was centered in that area, for some reason. A massive ground war had been fought on all sides of it, until the military had set up the northern blockade. So far it had held, barely, keeping the bugs quarantined to mostly Manhattan, though fighting had spilled out into every other borough and was spreading farther by the day.

"Assume they are aliens for a second," I suggested. "Wouldn't that draw Bishop here? It is sort of his area of expertise."

"Sure," he agreed. "But that doesn't explain what he's been up to out here." He stood, going to a large map pinned to the wall. He pointed to a large red pin stuck into it, a little north of Albany. "There's a government facility located right here, but you won't find mention of it on any official documents. Very mysterious." He slid his finger from the red pin south, to a series of pins centered around the Hot Spot. "And now he's put himself at the heart of it. Call it a hunch," he said with a shrug, "but I'm almost sure he has more to do with this than it seems. Either way, one thing's for sure, Leo - the bugs are multiplying, and there's no question that they're doing so from here."

I had my next question ready, though I was sure I wouldn't like the answer to this one either. "Any idea how they're doing that?"

"Well… based on what we know of the infected, the gestation period for some of these… I'm going to call them mutants until I'm convinced otherwise – is remarkably short." He slid back into his computer chair and swung it around in a single motion, in the way one does when one's done something countless times. He tapped at the keyboard again, showing me the data. "I've taken a wide variety of samples and I've found traces of countless species of insect. When you consider the capabilities of some of the more fertile Ectognatha, the numbers are staggering."

Infected. The word made my skin crawl. Some people who'd escaped the city were found to have been carrying parasites, leading to the forced quarantine. Everything was shut down. Humans trying to escape the city were first herded into makeshift clinics and forced to wait weeks for a clean bill of health. Needless to say it was a slow process, and the routes in and out of the city became fewer as time went on. The Holland Tunnel was actually in ruins, after a massive firefight ended in them bombing the structure just to keep the hoard of insects at bay. Several other bridges were in the same state. Those that remained were barricaded and barriers were set all along the outer banks, ensuring that nothing would cross the water. Thanks to the infected, even if one was brave enough to journey to the borders, it was likely they'd be turned away. It made me thankful that we were able to get our friends to safety at all, especially considering that there were even bugs in the tunnels, meaning we also had to be much more cautious when moving around in general. We however, knew the underground better than anyone and could still find ways around (though they were usually less than convenient). Unfortunately for the citizens trapped here there was no escape, and the quarantine was a Band-Aid at best. Central Manhattan was getting worse by the day and if we couldn't figure out how to keep their numbers from increasing, then it was only a matter of time before the blockades would fail.

"So you think they're just breeding, laying a bunch of eggs underground?" I asked. He shrugged, seeming like it was the best he had. If that was the case, I shuddered to think what was down there, laying them. And I was right… I really didn't like his answer.

.

I looked over the map again. There was the Hot Spot, the blockades and sure enough – the red pin was still there, though whether Don was right about Bishop I didn't know. It hardly mattered now. The invasion was the last thing on my mind. Still, the memory of our talk only reminded me of what an excellent strategist Don was himself, and what a great team he and I made when it came to planning attacks. It hit me suddenly. This was going to be a lot harder without him. Without any of them, really. Even if I had one of them here, it would give me greater advantage in finding the others. But they weren't. I was alone in this.

I reached out and absent-mindedly touched a dry-erase board he had on the wall, wiping through a mathematical symbol there. I stared at my fingers where they'd come away black from the marker and rubbed them together against my thumb, mesmerized by it. What would happen, if I couldn't find them? Maybe one or two would find their way home eventually. Maybe not. I looked around Don's lab, my heart sinking. Everything would stay the way it was in this room, just the way it looked now. In all of their rooms. The lair would never lose the eerie quiet that surrounded Splinter and I now. And Splinter… I feared that if I failed in this, the most important of my duties, he would never forgive me.

I had to find them.

.

.

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A/N - For those of you not familiar, "Let me tell you a story..." is a reference to Mirage's Tales of the TMNT. Many issues ended the first page, or frontispiece, with that phrase when narrated from the POV of a single character. Also, bonus Metalhead cameo. :)