Simple Unicycle
Izurich
Morden Man
Leonardo sat transfixed by the television. He was laying on the front of his shell, sprawled out on the old, threadbare carpet that lay on the floor of the Den's living room. His head was resting on his hands, his elbows propped up on a pillow that had seen better days, its red, corduroy fabric faded to a dull pink. His feet kicked up and down as the scenes on the television reflected off his eyes, which were like saucers when watching his favorite show.
"Man, the old guy could totally beat down on this one," Raphael motioned towards the TV. "Picard is such a weenie. Can we go back to Kirk? At least that guy threw a karate chop now and again, even if his form was terrible."
Leonardo sighed, "Picard is a thinking man's captain, Raph. He examines and analyzes the situation before making precise decisions on how to diffuse a situation. He's a master of strategy and using the strengths of his crew to the best of their abilities."
"So he's a better leader then you then?" Raph chuckled. "Last time I checked he didn't create his worst enemy."
"Ohhhh burn!" Mikey called out, looking up from his GameBoy. He was laying over the two arms of the armchair, like a doll that had been thrown haphazardly down.
The eldest turtle ignored his brothers. He had been in his head enough about the situation with The Foot, he wasn't going to allow them to ruin one of the few things he still enjoyed without reservation. Star Trek spoke to him unlike anything he had ever found from the human world. The way they supported one another, rational thought, and didn't thin badly of those that looked different from them gave him hope that he too could work alongside humans like the aliens on the show. It was probably a childish hope, but it was something that he had to believe would be possible some day.
"Turn on the news!" Donnie's call came from his room. He flipped over the back of the couch, landing next to Raphael, knocking him aside. The red-banned Turtle elbowed his brother, who returned the favor. "Turn on the news, seriously."
Leonardo shrugged and changed the channel to one of the local channels.
On the screen, standing behind a podium set in front of the base of the Empire State building stood a tall, sharply dressed Japanese man. His jet-black hair was pulled into a traditional chonmage ponytail, displaying the sharp, keen features of his face. His strong cheekbones and dark eyes gave him a regal air. He was dressed in a slate grey suit with a striking red tie. On the front of the podium was the symbol of a red Japanese dragon.
"No way," Raph gasped.
"Please tell me I'm dreaming," Mike's game system fell to the floor.
Leonardo read the chyron, "Oroku Saki. Out in the open."
The cameras flashed as her grandfather stepped to the podium. He smiled slightly, an expression that was far more calculated than natural. He looked over the crowd, clearly pleased that a large crowd had amassed. As they should. It was not every day that a reclusive billionaire made his first public appearance ever. Especially when he was the latest in line of a family of billionaires.
It was a cover story the true believers of The Foot had crafted over the centuries of his disappearance, going as far as to infiltrate government agencies to forge identities and cover for shell corporations. The name of Oroku Saki had been passed down from unseen CEO to unseen CEO for decades in case The Foot had managed to revive the Shredder. Now it was finally paying off, and The Foot and near limitless resources to rebuild itself.
"Thank you for coming," Saki's voice in this setting was powerful and deliberate, like the beating of a war drum of an approaching army. "Many of you have heard the rumors, and yes, I am Oroku Saki."
A murmur rolled through the crowd and Karai smiled. They were buying it hook, line, and sinker. Good. Things always went so much easier when people believed the lies they were fed.
Saki continued, "For generations my family has been among the most successful business men in Japan, and recently, I have extended our reach globally. Up until recently, we have been content with amassing our wealth and running our business. Then, the Stryfe Incident happened, and I began to have a change of heart. I watched as New York, one of my adoptive cities, was torn apart by terrorists and madmen. I have done much soul searching, and have decided that we will no longer stand idle. Beginning immediately, I will be directing Dragon Construction's American branch towards the finishing of the Empire State rebuilding and any remaining damage from the Stryfe Incident."
Another roll of surprise went through the crowd, and Saki smiled naturally this time, "In addition, I will personally be funding all the work myself. The people of New York do not deserve to bear this burden. They have already been through so much, and I have so much to give. I truly just hope this allows the city to start to heal, and together we can move forward into the future."
The assembled media and surrounding citizens stood and cheered loudly.
"Wow," April mused as the news report ended and she polished off her dinner. Oroku Saki, reclusive billionaire, comes out of hiding to rebuild a broken city. It was like something out of a story or something. That would be one hell of an interview, if she could manage it.
Yea, right, April, the voice in her head laughed out loud. You're an intern for the Daily Bugle. You're never gonna get within ten feet of a guy like that.
A knock from the door came as she plopped the dirty dishes into the sink. She spun around to look at the clock, and cursed under her breath. The guy she was supposed to be tutoring was here. She had totally forgotten about that. At this point, she wondered why she kept her name in the tutor pool after she had gotten the internship. The easy answer was she had forgotten, and when they came to her with a desperate case she just couldn't say no.
Damn my bleeding heart.
She tried to clean the table as quickly as she could, giving at least the most feeble attempt at presenting an acceptable study area.
Another knock on the door, this time clearly more impatient.
"Coming!" she called out and rushed to fling open the entrance to the apartment.
There, standing on the other side, was not exactly what she expected. They told her one of the school's star hockey players needed to get his grades up ASAP or risk being kicked off the team and out of school along with it. But what stood in front of her looked like something off an old grunge album she saw in her dad's shop. He had long, black hair that hung partially in front of his face. A loose, green army-type jacket over a white t-shirt, and baggy jeans with combat boots. He stood almost a foot over April, and his build was the only thing that told her he was a hockey player. But his eyes...his eyes were a striking shade of green.
When their eyes locked, he rubbed the back of his neck with a large hand, "Hey, uh, you April? I'm Casey."
"Nice to meet you, Casey," she smiled, and felt a rush of warmth go through her face, shocking herself. He was a jock, and a grungy one at that. Not her type at all. She turned and motioned for him to take a seat at the table, shaking the feelings out of her head as soon as his back was to her, "They told me you needed help with calc one and bio one, right?"
"Uh, yea," he dropped his bag down and started filing through the books, pushing the hair out of his eyes as he did. April felt her cheeks flutter slightly again, and she focused on getting that under control. "Never been very good at the nerd stuff. Wait, I mean, ugh."
April chuckled lightly, "Relax, being a nerd is cool now, remember? It's a compliment."
"Heh, sure," he nodded. "So, I've been really strugglin' with integrals."
"Well, let's get down to business."
The obnoxiously bright, gleaming hallways of the Techno Cosmic Research Institute gave Agent John Bishop a headache. The place was so clean, so spotless. It was like when he went to Disneyland as a kid. Everything felt sanitized, all the sharp edges of history and fiction sanded off. It presented itself as the perfect, above board scientific research center. But Bishop knew better. There was something here that stunk. Something behind all the shining white and sanitary lab equipment.
Unfortunately, as it stood he needed their help to find the vile creatures that had invaded New York.
"Welcome back, Agent Bishop," Jordan Perry, the head of the think tank, said in his intolerably posh British accent. "I see you got my message."
"I sure hope it's worth my time on this occasion," Bishop grumbled from behind his sunglasses. The SWORD agent had been called a few times with promises of breakthroughs, only to be shown some obscure scientific process they thought would help with tracking the turtles. It had been infuriating. Bishop hated scientific types.
Perry lit up with excitement, his round spectacles nearly toppling off his rounded nose, and white hair swishing wildly, "Oh it will be. Please follow me to Doctor Stockman's lab."
Bishop followed the skinny scientist to the lift nearby. Perry swiped his security card across the reader, and an electronic, male voice announced, "Access granted. Doctor Jordan Perry."
"Thank you, Honeycutt," Perry smiled, "I'll be taking a guest down as well."
"Understood, Doctor," was the response as the lift began to head down.
Bishop eyed the elevator suspiciously, "An AI?"
Perry nodded, "The beginnings of one, yes. We haven't unlocked his full potential, but he helps keep track of the building and the goings on at TCRI. Invaluable to what we're doing here."
The lift glided silently down for quite a while, leaving Bishop to wonder just how far down the TCRI building went. As the thought crossed his mind, however, the elevator came to a stop. He stepped out into a giant lab, where large robotic arms were hard at work assembling something. In the middle of the large room was Baxter Stockman, the small, scrawny man's hands were flying over what Bishop assumed were the controls for all the machinery in the room.
"Baxter!" Perry called out. The black man looked up, his large glasses reflecting the bright light of the room. "Care to give Agent Bishop a demonstration!?"
Stockman merely waved, and the agent heard a new set of machinery whirring to life. Then, the sound of a stampede of metal feet clanging against the tiled floor. Bishop turned to find a battalion of small, bi-pedal robots staring up at him. They looked like robotic dodo birds, but with a red, cybernetic eye in the middle of their forehead. Their beaks were lined with large metal teeth, almost like a bear trap.
Perry waved over them, "Agent Bishop, allow me to present to you the Mutant Or Unidentified Sentient Eradication Robots...or MOUSERs for short. The MOUSERs have the ability to read any being's DNA and scan for abnormalities. They can then swarm and incapacitate their targets after we give them the green light. These little buggers are going to deliver you your turtles, Agent."
Raphael stuck his sais into his utility belt, and made sure that he had some smoke bombs in case he ran into more trouble than he would have liked. He was done waiting around while Fearless Leader and his brothers messed around and allowed the Purple Dragons and the Foot to continue staking more and more territory for themselves. Whatever the Dragons were up to, the human Casey Jones would know. He hated the gang about as much as Raphael did, and that meant Raph had to talk to him. Had to talk to someone sane.
Making his way to the exit of the Den, Leonardo called after him, "Where are you going?"
"Out," he called back trying his best to hide his anger. Leo was always questioning him. Always sure that Leo's way was the best way. "Gonna catch a movie. Need some time to decompress."
There was a theater close by that was easy for them to sneak into from the ventilation system. Sometimes it was too crowded for them to drop down into the theater, but it was still easy to watch from the vents. It was an easy cover story whenever he wanted to sneak out.
"That okay?" he added in.
"Sure," Leo shrugged. "See you in a few hours."
Raphael exited the Den, ready to find some Dragons and crack some skulls.
