A/N: Usual disclaimer. Kame is my only turtle, and he is neither mutant, ninja, nor owned by Viacom. *sigh*

Thanks, as always to my epic beta readers, Diva Danielle, Melody Winters and Polaris'05. You girls rock as always!

This is the fourth in a series of one-shot song-fics. The first is Rain, followed by Raph's Mountain, then Hero.

~The Devil in Disguise~

The stocky figure leaned against the jukebox, tapping his foot in time to the country song blaring from the speakers. His hood was pulled too far forward for his features to be clearly visible, but his smile was easy to see, a row of teeth gleaming slightly in the dim reflection of neon light.

Alyssa watched him surreptitiously over her beer, keeping half an eye on him while she waited for her contact to arrive. She picked up the bottle and took a pull of the beer, careful not to make a face. She preferred the sharp burn of sake, but this was business, not pleasure. The small tables in the bar were littered with long-necked bottles like her own. Tonight, as she sought the meeting that might bring her mistress more information on her enemies, and honor and glory to herself personally, she would drink the watered down American alcohol and blend in.

He's a good-time cowboy Casanova
Leaning up against the record machine
He looks like a cool drink of water
But he's candy-coated misery

The song was beginning to grate on her nerves. She scanned the room, studying the inhabitants. The one at the machine straightened, moving casually toward her table. She barely glanced up when he eased into the seat, not across from her oddly enough, but directly to her right.

"You come here often?"

She longed to give him a cold glare and perhaps a fractured limb for his trouble, but she had a role to play.

"I am in America only a short time," she responded, deliberately thickening her accent.

The dumb-tourist act wasn't hard to pull off in a city the size of NY. She risked a glance in his direction, and was startled to see the white teeth flash again in the shadow of his hood. Men rarely smiled at her, though she was young and her looks not off-putting. She wasn't the type. Usually they edged around her, intimidated by the aura of power she deliberately projected. This one seemed to actually be enjoying her company.

"Welcome to New York," he said cheerfully.

He's the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight
You better run for your life

"Thank you," she returned coolly, turning away.

It would have been intriguing to explore further with him. She thought, But I am here to meet a contact.

She couldn't afford to get friendly with a random stranger, as much as she would have enjoyed picking apart his psyche, seeing how she could manipulate him. Men were predictable fools, but this one's air of confidence seemed too solid for false bravado.

Alyssa sighed. The Tiger Lily, as the woman called herself when this meeting was arranged, was late. She hated incompetence, hated sloppiness, hated delays. In her line of work, she could ill afford uncertainty. Karai didn't take well to failure.

Her eyes narrowed as a petite woman made her way across the bar. She looked neither left nor right, but came straight to Alyssa's table and pulled out a chair. As the woman sank down, she casually dropped a fresh oniyuri (tiger lily) on the table.

"Konban wa." The woman greeted her in perfect Japanese.

Alyssa nearly groaned. Great. Just great. Here was her contact, and the fool was still sitting at the table, grinning at her from the shadow of his hooded sweatshirt.

"Hani ga iitain desu ka?" asked Alyssa, indicating the woman should continue the conversation in Japanese. Her eyes barely flicked to the hooded figure in the other chair, but the woman turned her head to look at him full on.

"Hey there, handsome, you look like a gentleman who knows how to treat a lady right. Why don't you get us girls some drinks?" she suggested with a lazy smile.

The oaf lumbered to his feet, the grin flashing. "You got it, Babe."

Alyssa had to admire the woman's casual skill in ridding them of the boorish stranger.

"This is not your first visit to an American club?" she asked, sizing up her contact.

The brown-haired woman shook her head. "Be careful. Don't underestimate him," she said quietly. "You never know who might be hanging around."

I see that look on your face
You ain't hearin' what I say
So I'll say it again
'Cause I've been where you've been
And I know how it ends
You can't get away-ay

Alyssa snorted softly. She hardly needed to be schooled by an amateur who used a flower as her calling card. A full year serving Karai had taught her cunning and enough street skill to move up through the ranks faster than most of her peers.

"What information do you have for me?"

The woman cocked her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "So impatient," she answered softly. "I would like to know who I'm really dealing with. Information is, after all, a commodity best handled carefully. My… friend, informed me you were a writer looking for a story, but you don't strike me as the type to chase down urban legends for a tabloid."

Alyssa drew herself up, glaring.

"The identity of my employer is not your concern. All you need to know is that cooperation will be well rewarded… and betrayal avenged."

The woman chuckled, sitting back in her chair. Their uninvited guest was returning. Alyssa scowled. This evening was looking more and more like a complete waste of time.

At least I had the sense not to report to my superior where I was going tonight, she thought. Better to come home with an unexpected prize than to return with a broken promise and empty hands.

A bottle was set down in front of her, condensation dripping down the neck and pooling on the scarred tabletop. She glanced at her benefactor and saw his teeth flash once again, though the room was too dark to make out his face.

Don't even look in his eyes
He'll tell you nothin' but lies
And you wanna believe
But you won't be deceived
If you listen to me
And take my advice

"I fear we are wasting our time here," she said quietly to the other woman.

"Not at all." Even his voice seemed to smile, mocking her. "I'd say we're all having a good time, wouldn't you, Austin?"

The woman smiled demurely. Alyssa stared, her eyes going narrow.

"You didn't think I'd come to meet you without some sort of back up did you?" the woman asked quietly. "Especially considering this meeting was arranged by a known member of the Foot Clan. Now. I think we do have business to conduct. Why are you seeking information about the Phantoms?"

Alyssa ignored the woman's cryptic question, and stared more suspiciously as the third member of their little party. She burned with the sting of having indeed underestimated him. He had picked her out of a crowd of typical New Yorkers, a mix of Asian, Hispanic, Blacks and Caucasians who frequented this secluded little club. This pair were not the unschooled fools she'd taken them for. Time to retreat, before she compromised her own safety, or worse, the security of her Clan.

He took a pull from his beer. There was something… familiar, about the figure, but the dark shadows the bar lighting cast made it difficult to pick out any distinguishing details.

Carey Underwood continued wailing from the jukebox.

He's the devil in disguise
A snake with blue eyes
And he only comes out at night
Gives you feelings that you don't want to fight
You better run for your life

"My… employer's interest in these so-called Phantoms is not your concern," she said coolly, deliberately refusing to acknowledge the woman's mention of her Clan. She made one last bid. "Do you have information for me or not?"

The woman shook her head. "'Fraid I can't help you really," she said quietly. "If you won't trust me even with your employer's name, we won't be able to come to an understanding. I'd advise you to tell your… editor to leave urban myths alone."

Alyssa glared, dark-eyed at the woman. "You will regret wasting my time," she growled, knowing even as she said it the threat was an empty one. She turned on her heel and stalked away. A quiet chuckle behind her almost had her turning. The male's voice… it was so… familiar. She shook off the lingering doubts and picked her way toward the door without a backward glance.

Oh you better run for your life…

Austin turned to face her partner. "So, what do you think? Is she really a writer?"

"Foot. No doubt. They're getting younger. Too bad, she was pretty."

Austin ignored that. "Think we should tell Leo?"

"Yeah probably."

Austin sighed. "Ok, let's get you out of here Casanova."

A hand reached out and caught her wrist before she could get up from the table. A muscular, three-fingered hand.

"Not yet." Michelangelo pulled his wife to her feet and she leaned closer, staring into a pair of mischievous blue eyes. "Let's dance."

A/N: *snort* Corny, I know, but I see Mikey every single time I hear that song. LOL Sorry, Mike, I couldn't help myself. Love ya sweetie. ;)