Donatello sat on the roof of the building where Alopex had seen the ninja, cursing that he and his brothers had found corroborating evidence to back up her words. A throwing star left behind from their tussle, including some of Alopex's fur, showed that the Hand were indeed real, and they were in New York City. That meant the Turtles were about to be thrown into a war their father had been seemingly be training them for their entire lives.
It was less than ideal. While Donnie was a capable fighter, he never enjoyed that aspect of his life. He could help his brothers so much more behind the scenes. But Splinter had made it clear that the four of them were stronger than three. It made sense from a purely logical point of view, but Donnie's reservations remained.
"Make sure you keep that star," Donnie nodded to Raph, who had been the one to find it.
"Might be able to find something off of it.""Aye-aye, Captain Science," Raphael mock saluted. Donnie rolled his eyes. Raph was a fighting machine, and had always teased Don about his desire not to fight. Nothing too hard, they were brothers after all, but it was still a running thread.
"Very funny.""Quiet, you two," Leo hushed them. He motioned towards the ladder that led from the roof to the fire escape. It jiggled only slightly, and Leo didn't even have to motion to his brothers. The four of them moved to the shadows of the roof, hiding behind HVAC equipment for the warehouse.
From his hiding place, Donnie can see a pair of shadows climb up onto the roof. They move past him and towards the glass skylight that ran down the middle of the roof. He caught a glimpse of Leo, who had taken cover on the other end of the roof from him. Leo motioned for him to wait and be patient. Don nodded. Raph and Mikey would be see if they approached the newcomers, so it was up to the two of them.
They stopped by the skylight, and Donnie could hear cars pulling up below. He was amazed. These guys had fought Alopex here only a few nights ago, and they were already using it again. They were either stupid or to powerful to worry about someone else showing up to try and stop them.
Splinter would say such confidence would lead to one's downfall, and it struck the young turtle that his master was wiser than he had ever thought. What kind of idiots would go right back to the same place?
Ones who knew they didn't have any competition to worry about.
Once the newcomers came to a stop by the glass, Leo nodded. He and Don silently left their hiding spaces, and crept low and slow towards their quarry. Once each was withing their grasp, the two turtles flung themselves on the human ninja. Each was clad in a red yoroi, with a mask covering their face. Leo and Donnie locked in sleeper holds, putting pressure on points on the neck and temple of each man. Within a few moments, they were alive, but unconscious.
"They wouldn't come back to the same spot twice, huh?" Donnie looked at his brother with a bit of a knowing glance.
"I mean, we would never do something that dumb," Leo shook his head as he placed his ninja down on the roof.
"It doesn't make sense, right?""It makes sense if you think you don't have anything to worry about in this part of town," Don shrugged.
"My guess is the Hand have already secured this territory, and are hashing out their demands for their new mob underlings.""What do death cult ninja want from the mob?" Leo stroked his chin.
"Why don't we go in and find out?" Don motioned towards the catwalks of the warehouse.
"Yessss," Mikey looked eager.
"Let's super spy this mission up!"Leo considered the idea. Don knew he'd go for it. It was safe, but it would give him information on his enemy. Donnie knew his brother. He knew how his mind worked. If there was an avenue to take to finish a mission, Leonardo was going to run down it.
"We're going in and we're getting info," the eldest nodded in agreement.
"And then we're taking whoever comes in through those doors down. We're sending a message that New York has someone to protect them."
Antonio Puzorelli took his seat at the table and adjusted his tie. He had been with the Kingpin Crime Syndicate for damn near as long as Wilson Fisk. It was a good life, at least for him. It had given Antonio and his family a comfortable, luxurious life. It had given his bitch of a wife little reason to complain over the years. It had put his kids through college. It kept his mistress quiet.
At least it had until it all came crashing down. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen had killed Fisk and thrown the whole damn city into chaos. Tombstone was the first to start carving up Kingpin territory, and then the damn ninja moved in claiming they had been in a partnership with Fisk before his death. Damn bastards in pajamas started dolling out orders like the owned the place.
Unfortunately, he found out quickly that there was no saying no to them. That was clear after they chopped off one of Puzorelli's men's head right in front of him. Now he had to come to this dump once a week to talk to these weirdos or face the same.
"Where the hell are they?" Big Louie, Puzorelli's body guard asked. Lou was, well, big, but he was far from bright. But he was the only other one allowed to meet with the Hand alongside the Fisk lieutenant. They were a secretive bunch, and wanted all their orders to flow through someone who commanded the respect of the people left in the Syndicate. They probably figured Louie was too dumb to decipher what their plans were. They were probably right.
"The ninja follow a way of patience, my friend," a soft voice came from the shadows. What followed it were three ninja dressed in red, the leader the only one to reveal his face. He was Japanese, and stood at almost six foot tall. His skin was covered in scars, as if his face had been beaten by a cheese grater. One eye was merely white. His name, as Antonio had been told, was Kirigi. He was the messenger of the Hand, but not its leader.
"Yea, well, not us Italians," Louie grumbled in return. He disliked the agreement with the outsiders just as much as Antonio did, he was just worse at covering his distaste up. He would have to be warned about that. These weren't the kind of people who back talked.
"Please excuse Lou," Puzorelli smiled warmly. "It's past his bedtime."
"Indeed," Kirigi smiled and took a seat at the table. The other ninja remained standing. "We appreciate the shipments coming in on time. Things have been running fairly smoothly."
Antonio nodded. The shipments were of weapons, they brought them in on Fisk shipping containers, usually disguised as fish or some other crap. It had always been a profitable racket, but the cops were getting bolder. Probably because of the devil freak and the spider weirdo. Too many heroes in New York. Too many across the country. Antonio thought that maybe his kind was becoming an endangered species. Soon all the criminals would be like the stranger sitting across form him, and they'd all be fighting some nutcase in spandex.
He felt very tired all of a sudden.
"We've had to change up our delivery routes to escape suspicion," the mob boss explained. "We run through Purple Dragon territory now. They're a small outfit, but they're dangerous. They tried to hit one of the trucks the other night. We managed to get away without losing any of the merchandise, but stuff like that's gonna get the attention of the fuzz."
"Indeed," the ninja nodded. "I will report back to my superiors. If necessary we will dispose of these...Purple Dragons."
"Yea, well, good luck," Puzorelli chuckled. "These street gangs are like cockroaches. You think you kill 'em all and then it turns out a hundred of them were living under the rug."
"In that case we will set fire to the rug," was Kirigi's monotone response.
The mob boss knew he was not joking. The Hand wanted control of New York, and they were going to do anything to get it.
Before either of the men could say another word, the single bulb illuminating the room shattered, showering the able with darkness and glass. Antonio heard a series of thuds as heavy objects fell around him. He could hear Louie fumble for his gun before the big man's body hit the concrete floor hard. The sound of metal meeting metal clanged through the warehouse. Someone let out a grunt of pain.
Antonio Puzorelli squinted and tried to see what was going on. As his eyes began to adjust, the last thing he saw before being struck on the side of the head were a pair of white eyes glaring out from the darkness.
Detective Sam Sterns shook his head as he looked over the scene. Suspected mobster Antonio Puzorelli was tied up to some other Italian muscle head, draped over a pile of rubble that had once been a table in the middle of some two bit warehouse. A trail of blood, whose he had no idea, ran from the area near the table out the door, but then disappeared. For all he knew it was the person who did this's, or it was a friend of the mob boss.
What Sterns did know was he had a vigilante crime scene on his hands.
"Whattaya think, Sam?" the beat cop who got here first asked. "One of the devil's work? Or the spider?"
"Too much blood for the spider," Sterns shook his head. "And it doesn't have the devil's calling card. Could be someone knew."
"Aw shit, the cap's not gonna like to hear that," the uniformed officer lamented.
"No one is," was Sterns's simple response.