The rain came down in sheets, drumming against surfaces in an ancient tribal dance. Auburn eyes watched the droplets bounce from the hood of the car springing in flairs of a fairy dance. The rain once was something he would look forward too. Something he remembered getting excited over when the sounds of the tunnels had rushing water. His heart would begin to race, his hearing blocking everything else out. He would always make some excuse to leave, to go up top to feel the heavenly drops kiss his skin like the petal soft lips that smiled. He was never cold in the rain... he pushed the memories to the side when he could hear the clack of high heels on the pavement. Pushing back he uncrossed his arms from the steering wheel that he had been leaning against. The door opened, the black skirt of his companion's suit were a stark contrast to the pale legs. She didn't bother straightening out the skirt that traveled up her thigh, mindlessly he reached over and straightened it as the woman tried to push the wet and frayed dark curls from her face. “Thanks,” she huffed out in her unique accent. With an “oh” she quickly moved correcting the black cap that kept his features hidden from anyone who may chance looking into the vehicle.

“How'd it go in there?” Raphael asked quietly as if the rain itself could be listening.

The woman's intelligent eyes darkened, her face falling into a hardened scowl. She opened up her purse pulling out a bundle of paper and a tape recorder. The purse was tossed with little care; the empty pouch of hard fake leather clattering around the back before falling to the floor between the seats. She clutched the objects feeling her saliva muck up with distaste, “Better to take it home and find out for yourself... there's a lot to take in.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we go home and I order out for curry and more caffeine than legally acceptable for the United States... We've got a long night ahead of us.”

Fingers twisted up like spider legs, limbs locked in peculiar angles, joints dislocated forcing the being into a convoluted remnants of its former self. The ice crystals upon the dirtied denim slowly crumpled and melted in the warm air, mixing with charred scorch marks that peppered across arms and legs. There was... so much to do as the uninvited guest started to gasp for air on the floor. Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, eyes fixed on him, still pleading for help as it became more difficult to breathe.

Leonardo passed the turtle a pair of scissors, the pair of blades shimmered in the light, the sight startling the person on the floor. Michelangelo's firm hands kept the human from moving more than a few inches, his whole body weight pressed down to achieve the task.

“Easy, easy,” Don moved the pair of scissors down to the bottom hem of the shirt. His voice was soft and encouraging like a father speaking to a child, “Before we move you we need to see how injured you are.”

Donatello took a moment, before putting the scissors in place and started cutting. Slowly, the scissors cut the cloth. The metal slipped up pulling the matted fabric away from the flesh that clung desperately onto what it tried to swallow. As he worked, a strange oder slowly became more pungent. With the final snip the man's shirt draped and folded in a peculiar way. Donatello's eyes narrowed, his attention screwing down tight onto the sliver of discolored tissue that peered through the bunches of cloth. His heart pounded loudly in his ears; his breath held in as his mind tried to deny what he was anticipating on finding.

Carefully gripping the cut shirt he steeled himself. Gently pulling the cloth back, he opened the tissues to he fresh air. A wave a stench wafted out, thick with rot assaulted his nose. He had to swallow down the swell of bile that climbed up his throat at the sight. Donatello heard Michelangelo vomit and Leonardo move back, his carapace scraping against floor as the oldest moved back. The olive colored turtle covered his mouth with the back of his hand taking a few deep breaths. He found himself shaking, his eyes burning as the man continued to gulp air. Donnie's watering gaze locked to the mans. His lips mouthed wide and bold “Please help”. Hazel eyes dropped down to the gaping cavity of red, black and yellow. The stinging in his eyes made a few tears pearl down. There was... there was no way he could help, except...

His sight picked out the familiar shape. Shakily his hand went over the piece of wood and metal. He swallowed, hesitating. He looked back making eye contact once more and within a blink of an eye Donatello's fingers had wrapped around the handle. An arch of light reflecting off of the metal tooth before the knife came down.

Raphael stabbed the small box of chinese take-out with his chop sticks, the small utensils sticking straight up as he growled leaning back in his chair. Spread across the table in front of him were thick pamphlets were stapled, paper clipped and even curled together with rubber bands. The papers ranged from hand written notes to crime scene reports and photographs. In the middle was a tape recorder that clicked silently before clicking off. He put his hand up to his lips in thought, his mind wrapping around what he had just heard, all of the information that had just been given to him.

The woman beside him rested her head against her hand as she sat. Her dark hair twisted and curled in a lazy pony tail that was falling out. She swallowed the bit of water she had in her mouth, the tap of her placing her glass down the only sound that was currently filling the apartment. “Well... what do you think Rhoddin?”

Auburn eyes looked to the woman with a unique accent that was a mix of british and welsh. He let out a long breath through his nose before twisting in his seat to address her properly. “I think we need to get some better answers.”

“And how do you plan that?”

“I haven't been helpin' you out for nothin'.”

She shifted leaning forward, “So how do you wanna do it?”

“Get in and get out, yank that whack bag out by his own golden tattoo.”

“We'll be breaking into a state penitentiary. We'll need a plan, gear-”

Raphael smirked, “Don't worry about it. I got it covered.”

To Be Continued...