Author Note: Well here it is, later than I intended it to be up but I've been having internet woes.. My internet provider is sick of the sound of my voice by now!

This is the sequel to 'Choosing Destiny', my AU fic. This first part is the prologue and very very short. When I get into the chapters, they will be much longer (ya all know I can talk a LOT) and the first might even be up tonight. I have to go over it before I do.

I'm rambling again. OK, enjoy!


Karai kicked the target viciously, still angered by the recent revelations she had received from New York. Someone she had thought of as valuable ally, trusted confidante, close friend – and he had betrayed her. Betrayed the Foot.

Leonardo had sided with his brothers against the Foot, left the organisation. After everything they had done for him, he had chosen to align himself with his treacherous brothers.

The ungrateful whelp she thought as she took out her fury on the targets gathered around her private dojo. Just one of the many perks of being the leader of this branch of the Foot clan, but right then she would have traded it all to have been back in New York, searching out those who had shown such insolence.

There had been those who had defected from the Foot over the years, usually found swiftly and dealt with mercilessly. None of those had ever made Karai quite as angry as the four Turtles leaving had done. Particularly Leonardo, whom she had regarded as one of her closest allies during her time in New York. They had trained together, held conversations about their hopes for the future – all of which involved the Foot, she remembered sourly – and discussed how strongly their allegiance to the Foot was. Obviously, Leonardo had been lying. He had deceived her, after she had trusted him.

The other three, they meant little to her, although the five of them had grown up together. She found Michelangelo obnoxious and annoying beyond belief. Raphael was bad tempered and crude. And Donatello was just incomprehensible. She hadn't felt close to them and their leaving only made her angry as a betrayal of the Foot. But Leonardo taking their side – it hurt her on a more personal level.

A leaping kick beheaded one of the practice dummies. Her Master had hurt her too, by refusing her suggestion that she return to America to join the search for the renegades. He insisted they would not be hard to find and that this was one score he would like to settle himself. She had attempted to argue, but he was her Sensei and had reminded her coldly of the fact, forcing her to acquise to his wishes.

And if he can't find them?

She smiled with satisfaction. If that was the case, Saki would have to allow her to return. She was the one person in the Foot who knew Leonardo best and she was the one with the best ideas about where he would take his brothers. And she hoped that he wouldn't find them.

She wanted to be the one to bring the Turtles down.


The Foot soldiers were nervous, Saki could tell. He wasn't shouting, wasn't berating their failure and he knew that made them even more nervous. He should have been in a towering fury but instead he had retreated to his private meditation chamber and was deep in thought.

How could he have thought the situation was under control? Obviously he had underestimated Michelangelo. He had honestly believed that the Turtle had nothing more to tell them, that him telling them under interrogation that he had not told his brothers about the mutant rat he had found captive had to be the truth. He had not thought Michelangelo capable of deceit under torture.

He had been wrong.

The other three had risked everything to free their brother and managed to hide their intentions from him until it was too late, even going out on a Foot mission that same evening. Then somehow, they had brought down security functions, escaped the Foot and freed the rat as well as his erstwhile adopted son.

Keeping the rat alive had been a mistake, Saki could see it now. At the time he had enjoyed gloating to the rat about how he was integrating the Turtles into the Foot, claiming them as his own. And knowing that the rat had been the same one that attacked Hun all those years ago, that it knew who he was, was sweetest of all. The failure with Hamato Yoshi still rankled. The Guardian had given them nothing at all, no matter what the Foot subjected him to. Having the rat around had been almost as good as having Yoshi locked away instead, to eliminate that distasteful memory with the grim satisfaction of having the mans mutated and intelligent companion in his custody.

Not anymore. When the security system had been overcome with a virus – Donatello, it had to be, none of the others were intelligent enough to bypass the encryption codes – the rat had taken the opportunity to break out and rather than running, had found the Turtles and aided in their escape. Another failure, adding salt into the wound of the earlier one.

Saki did not like to lose. Certainly not twice. The rat's master had robbed him of his answers, the rat's escape had robbed him of his vengeance, the rat's words had robbed him of his sons.

The rat was going to pay. As were his treacherous former Foot ninja. No one crossed Oruku Saki and lived to tell. No one.