Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from the TMNT.

Alas how hard it is to say what it was like,

this savage and sharp and strong forest,

which even in thought renews my fear!

So bitter was it that death is little moreso;

but in order to speak of the good that I found,

I'll tell of the other things I saw there.

—Dante, "The Inferno," Canto I

Another clump of iron-grey hair dropped from April O'Neil's scalp to the stained linoleum floor. She didn't notice.

"C'mon, work, damn you!" she muttered at the ancient metal payphone. It gleamed dully back at her in the light that spilled out from the main room at the Scales Bar. The wall behind it was a scrawling mess of faintly illuminated graffiti, much of it offering cheap sexual favors and scribbled profanities but plenty of it demanding the end of Shredder's reign. "Kill the Shredder," the wall cried out.

It was surely a sign.

As April continued her struggle with the phone, two men shuffled past her down the dark hallway. One of them leered at her and pulled his buddy to a stop. April froze momentarily before launching into a loud, one-sided conversation on the old phone.

"Yes, send Master Shredder's Strike Team immediately—there are collaborators here!"

The two men quickly walked on without a second glance at her. April swallowed back the bile that had risen in her throat and managed to get her pounding heart under control. She turned back to the phone. The Scales was pretty representative of most of New York's underground bars; the whiskey burned when you drank it and the clientele could burn you worse if you weren't ready for them. But the payphone usually worked, even during one of the Shredder's Communication Blackouts.

It wasn't working during this one.

April was about to give up when she heard a buzz and then, miraculously, a dial tone. "Thank God," she whispered, dialing a number…tapping her foot impatiently…hoping Angel was there to answer. She ran a hand across the patchy, molting skin on the top of her head and felt a few more clumps of hair gently fall away.

"Speak." The terse female voice that crackled across one of the few remaining landlines in New York was unmistakable.

"Angel, we need to talk."

"Nope."

April sighed. She had hoped Angel would have forgotten their old quarrel and be willing to cooperate. She'd have to resort to Plan B. Angel rarely did favors for anyone, but for her two favorite turtles—well, it might happen.

"It's about Leonardo. He wants to meet with Raphael, but he won't unless you and I are there, too. Can you convince Raph to meet us?"

There was a long pause. "Be at the power station in fifteen minutes. My guards will bring you to headquarters."

April replaced the receiver and leaned her head against the wall, which felt cool and slimy against her hot forehead. That hadn't gone too badly. Slowly she picked up the phone again and punched in another number. She had one more call to make.

When the Shredder conquered New York City he crushed Chinatown, razing much of it to build a new power plant and then abandoning the half-finished building to the rats and the human Tribes driven to live with the rats. It loomed over this part of the city like an enormous black hole, a massive concrete structure that absorbed light, humanity, and everything that landed in its shadow.

The Tribes expected Oroku Saki to knock the abandoned plant down. But for some reason he let it stand, and it soon became the center of the new Black Market. Clean water, food, and medical supplies went for very high prices in the Underground marketplace.

April couldn't afford these things.

As she slunk up one of the dark streets that led to the immense black structure, she caught a glimpse of herself in one of the few unshattered storefront windows that were left in the neighborhood. Skinny, filthy, old…mangy. Cheekbones too sharp, green eyes too shadowed, skin an unhealthy yellow shade, and the hair…. She scratched her head and winced as more grey tufts rained down around her.

"He's poisoning you," came a familiar voice.

"Leo." April barely had time to breathe the name before she was wrapped in warm, strong arms and lifted off the sidewalk. A hand, scarred but still beautiful and powerful, gently touched the bare patches on her head.

She pushed Leonardo's hand away and separated herself, drawing her arms close around her narrow body. He took a step back; the familiar blue mask was gone, replaced by a pair of smoky black glasses. In the sputtering glow of the streetlamp she noticed a few new scars, but not many.

"So you're just letting him kill you like this?"

"Yup, and he's being awfully slow about it," she said with forced laughter. She could barely stand the weight of his gaze behind those glasses.

"It's been a long time, April. You've…you're so different." She didn't pull away when he reached out again to touch her face and neck, letting his rough fingers drift across her jutting collarbone and down her bony arms—only drawing back when he tried to touch her head.

"You're different too, Leo."

"Why did you want to meet with me?"

April drew a breath. It was now or never. "I'm ready, Leo. I'm ready to fight again."

AN: More chapters to follow for those who are interested. I should be updating shortly.