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evenmoreofadisaster · 11 months

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Click here for the link to the chapter :)

Edit: I’d hold off on reading this chapter until the issue with ao3 is resolved (´∀｀)

Edit 2: I've posted a copy of the fic under the cut, for those who still want to read it :)

The Fast and the Furriest

Running errands with Splinter was definitely not what One had planned for the day. Yet, somehow, the rat had managed to abduct One to a dirty place called ‘Walmart’ across the city, which had to be the farthest possible route to a grocery store EVER. As if the surprise journey wasn’t horrifying enough, One was practically forced to witness Splinter squeeze into skin-tight jeans and an ugly tie-dye shirt too snug for the fat around his tummy. The only way One could avoid the displeasing sight was to turn around and put on a disguise of his own.

Unlike Splinter’s bold choice of wardrobe, the rat had brought a loose hoodie for One to wear, blue and way too bright to be an effective disguise.

The long and unpleasant trip took half of the day, at least. One was stealthy enough to smuggle every item on Splinter’s prolonged list without getting caught by security, but the rodent didn’t seem to care. If One didn’t know any better, he’d think the unwarranted detour was Splinter’s annoying way of genuinely trying to spend time with him. But the slider is far too clever to be fooled by the rat’s fake pleasantries.

By the time One returns to the lair, both of his arms are burdened from wrist to shoulder with the majority of his and Splinter’s “purchases”. The rat himself carries a single bag into the kitchen.

“Boys!” the rodent calls as he places the items carefully onto the counter. One follows Splinter into the room and drops the remaining plastic bags next to the essentials.

“What’s this?” Two’s voice pierces through the near-silent air. When he looks up, One catches his brother’s scrutinizing eye from the entryway, where the living room blends into the kitchen. One matches his twin’s glare with a steady look that reflects the slider’s incredible tolerance for his brother’s temper.

The stare-off is promptly disrupted when the orange one walks in between them on his way to the counter. “Oh, sweet!” The younger turtle exclaims as he begins taking the grocery items out of the ripped bags. “You got stuff for dinner.”

Splinter helps with putting the items in their proper place. “Yes, Blue is a natural at… acquiring our necessities.”

One breaks eye contact with Two and forces a prideful smirk towards the rat and his “son”, ignoring the small portion of his ego that triumphs over the compliment. “Yeah, did you know you can get onions for free if you just take them without paying?”

“Aw, that’s great,” Orange coos.

Two scoffs from the other end of the kitchen as he trots inside. “Spirits, I wonder why that could be,” he declares, then grabs One tightly by the arm, “— and sidebar,” the softshell mutters and pulls One aside.

“Hey— what?” One protests.

“What are you doing?” Two hisses. “We have a mission.”

“Hey, Raph. Catch!” Mikey shouts. One looks up, watching the orange-clad turtle toss a jar towards his older brother as Red joins him in the kitchen.

“Woah!” The snapping turtle just barely catches the jar as it’s thrown. Just past him, the rat faces away from the boys to put some cereal away, one ear swiveled in One and Two’s direction.

One’s brows pull together tightly as he looks back at his brother, yanking his arm free to snatch Two roughly by the collar and drag him further out of earshot. If this conversation is going where One thinks it’s going, it would be much better to talk about it in the tunnels.

“Yeah, I know,” One retorts. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Two squirms. “Frankly? Slacking,” he bites back. One drops his brother when he feels they’re far enough to not be overheard.

Two whirls around. “Aren't you supposed to be a leader?”

“We’ve been over this,” One groans in mild annoyance. “I'm just buttering them up,” he explains. Honestly, it feels like he’s done so a hundred times. “Everything's under control.”

“It’s been weeks,” Two argues, “and we have made no discernible progress.”

“Trust me, it's all part of the plan.”

One notices the way Two’s jaw tightens in response to his excuse. One knows his brother well enough to know when he’s about to blow. “What plan?” Two snarls. “There is no plan, I don't see a plan!” Two throws his arm out, voice rising with his large gesture. “What is that over there I wonder?! NOT A PLAN!”

“Keep your voice down,” One hisses.

“I’m not going back empty handed.”

One pauses and regards his brother for a moment, noticing his clenched fists, bared teeth, and the sharp glint in his eye. The slider counters Two’s posture, leaning back and crossing his arms coolly.

“Why are you upset?” he asks flatly.

Two bites his cheek. “I’m not upset,” he counters. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Not taking this seriously?” One scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Okay, you’re not in charge. I am.”

“I am simply thinking about the mission,” Two argues. “To be successful, we need–”

One cuts him off. “That’s not your job. Your job is to follow orders,” he reminds his brother blatantly, flicking him in the forehead. Two flinches back with a hiss, but One doesn’t quit there. He steps forward and jabs a finger into Two’s plastron. “When you question me, you question Dad,” he continues without missing a beat, locking his brother in a firm gaze to make sure that he receives the final part of the message, loud and clear.

“Remember your place.”

Two’s shoulders stiffen, eyes flashing furiously but he doesn't argue.

One backs off with a stiff sigh. Really, what does Two have to worry about? All his brother needs to do is relax and let him do his thing! But One could see that Two is having a hard time accepting that. Again. His brother is smart, but sometimes he thinks too much.

The slider plants a hand on his hip and leans his weight on the same foot as he looks out of the tunnel, watching the Hamato family with disdain. If he could move this along faster, he would. But he needs to be careful. ‘Cause one wrong move could blow his cover and then what would he do? Start over? The likelihood of ever getting close to the Hamatos again is second to none. Especially since two of them are already suspicious of him.

He needs to change that.

One’s keen eye zeroes in on the rat, who is the more obvious threat to his plan. These past few days, the slider has noticed Splinter’s “subtle” ways of diverting One’s attention whenever he’s about to make a move. Which makes it almost impossible for him to do anything without getting caught— which is frustrating. And the lingering mass of questions surrounding the rat is just one more reason why he needs to be dealt with. And quickly. Before he ruins everything.

“We’ll get them,” One tells his brother, though his eyes don’t drift from Splinter. “Just play along until then.”

He can’t see Two’s face from where he’s standing, focused on the rat, but One can practically feel the tension emanating from his twin’s scales. He’s not as reassured as One would like him to be, but he knows that his brother won’t step too far out of line. And that’s good enough for now.

The rest of the evening was smooth-sailing. In other words, boring. One had taken his difficult brother back to the group, where they were preparing for dinner. As One observed them, he decided that the best time to take care of the rat is when everyone is asleep. But first, he’d need to know what he’s getting into— or rather who he’s trying to take down. Always know your enemy.

The slider winds skillfully through the dark tunnels as he hunts for the rat’s dwelling several hours later. He had made sure to note everyone’s whereabouts beforehand so he could snoop around. He discovered Raph and Mikey to be asleep in their rooms. Splinter was on the sofa.

It takes longer than expected, but One finally makes it to the two sliding doors. The shadows peek through a narrow slit between the doors, inviting the slider into the cryptic rat’s bedroom.

A sour expression twists One’s face when his enhanced lenses adjust to the darkness. The slider looks around the absolute mess of a room in exasperation.

How the hell am I supposed to find anything with all this junk?!

One’s claws twitch impatiently at his side as he debates moving forward. But with a lot of mental effort, he proceeds.

“Eugh,” One groans in disgust when stepping by a rotting pizza box.

As he explores the dump, One finds a modest cabinet flush against the wall to his left. There’s a sign, sloppily made, taped to one of the shelves, reading: DO NOT TOUCH. Which can only mean there’s something in there that Splinter doesn’t want anybody to see. In other words, I am going to touch everything on that shelf.

One leaps silently over to the cabinet and rustles through the shelves, looking for something— anything that will give him a sliver of information about who Splinter could be. But after digging through the collection of items… he finds nothing.

A terse growl erupts from the back of One’s throat. There’s nothing. Nothing. Just more junk.

One’s hands jump to the next shelf just when something clatters to the floor, snapping his attention to the ground. He tilts his head in interest as his lenses focus on the artifact. One bends down and picks up the round object, too big to be a coin. A medal, maybe? One’s thumb brushes the surface of the object before turning it over.

Engraved in the center of the stone is the Hidden City’s symbol. One raises an eyebrow. This is a gateway into the city. A key, they call it. The people who carry these are typically active or retired criminals. Usually thieves and smugglers, who like to pass freely in and between the Yokai and Human realms. People who have challenged the law before and aren’t afraid to risk crossing the line again. Or, even worse, the people who are paid to do it— like bounty hunters or agents of the council, who like to zap in wherever they like and snatch their victims. The slider’s brows pull together tight. If there’s one thing One detests, it's the thick-skulled thugs the government throws money at to get its self-righteous shady shit done.

So why would the rat have a key?

One’s fist tightens around the stone. This isn’t enough. This isn’t an answer, this is just another question. He’s just going around in circles that keep spiraling deeper and darker. Who is this rat? Who does he work for? What does he want? What does he want with them? One’s claws cut into his gloves and through his skin, drawing a thin layer of blood. I don’t need more questions, I need answers.

A dull scrape cuts One’s ears and he’s blinded by light suddenly pouring into his peripheral vision. One jumps and knocks his elbow into the shelf, then spins around quickly. The contacts quickly adjust to the brightened lighting but his nictitating membrane stays closed protectively over his eyes. The curtains open, revealing a stout shadow in the doorway.

“Blue.”

Splinter stands where the light bleeds into the dark of the room. One’s eyes narrow in the rat’s direction as he silently puts the key back on the shelf.

There’s a pause. “Come with me,” Splinter says. The muscles in One’s shoulders tighten. He releases his claws from their curled fists, eyeing the rat cautiously, searching for tells. But regardless of whether or not the rat has caught onto his snooping, One steps forward and lets the old man take him wherever he wants to go.

They both stay silent as they walk. One eyes the rat, mind lingering on the key. The very same kind he saw frequently as a child, when he and his family were on the run.

There are too many unknown variables. No innocent bystander would have a key like that. But at this rate, digging up the doubtless piles of dirt on the rat will take longer than One can afford. He needs to get rid of the rat before he stops his friendly charade and becomes a threat. Besides, they can’t have any loose ends scurrying around the sewers when One finally puts this game to an end.

One follows Splinter willingly into the garage, and checks over his shoulder to make sure that the door closes behind them. The slider keeps about three paces behind his target, watching his every move and waiting for the right moment to strike. The garage is isolated and sound proof. Two had transformed the neglected but generous space into the perfect place to work without grating One’s eardrums or burning his scales while he slept. It’s also the perfect place to exterminate a victim. He should thank his brother for his convenient engineering later.

One watches Splinter whip out Two’s keys to the tank. One remembers his brother telling him how he had just finished working on it, but needed a chance to test it out before they could use it. Personally, the whole tank idea seemed pretty useless, since One can just open up mystic portals to go wherever whenever he feels like it. Well, almost. Frustratingly enough, his weapon’s magic can only carry him so far before his heart either falters or gives out.

Before One can close in on his target, Splinter jumps up on the vehicle, using the side mirror as a foothold to reach the roof of the tank. The corner of One’s lip twitches upward in annoyance. He needs to be quicker.

One joins Splinter on the roof of the car just as the rat finishes opening the top hatch. Splinter drops inside by the time One has the opportunity to make another move. The slider huffs, but jumps in after him.

Okay, there’s literally nowhere to run, One thinks as he rises to his full height in the tank’s central control bay. The slider doesn’t waste another second after he stands before he leaps forward and swipes his sharp claws at the back of Splinter’s head.

But Splinter jumps into the driver's seat impossibly quick, dodging One’s attack effortlessly. The hard-hitting miss makes One stumble forward. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, but quickly regains his footing and swipes at Splinter again, who ducks just in time to put the keys in the ignition.

One misses— again— but he catches himself against the wall of the tank. His jaw is tight as he glares down at Splinter, who’s preoccupied with starting the vehicle. As the rat sits up, One leans off the wall and waits impatiently for Splinter to settle before going in for another attack.

As he moves, Splinter punches him in the stomach with his tail and sends One crashing into the passenger's seat. “Ugh!” One grunts, then stubbornly climbs out of the seat as Splinter slams his foot on the gas pedal and speeds out of the garage. One flies into the rounded and sealed back hatch.

Now in a heap on the floor, the slider gruffly and unhelpfully recalls the lecture he gave Two about how they absolutely don’t need a tank, but Two was still riding the high of his looting expedition and insisted it would come in handy. One’s current ordeal would be a great counterpoint to his brother’s outlandish claim.

As if this assassination couldn’t have gone worse, the rat decides to butcher One’s eardrums by blaring ‘80s music on max volume. While the rodent speeds the two of them onto the streets of New York City, One scrambles to the front of the tank, but slides and crashes into the wall when Splinter makes a sharp turn.

“What the hell?!” One cries over the ear-grating music.

“Buckle up!” Splinter shouts, though One has a hard time hearing his orders.

“What?!” he yells.

The tank comes to a quick stop at a red light and Splinter grabs him roughly by the belt and forces him into a seat, buckling him up tightly in one fluid motion. As the stoplight flashes green and the traffic clears, One watches in horror as the old rat flips neon orange, ‘80’s style shades over his beady eyes and floors it. One swallows a scream as the sudden acceleration crushes him into the seat.

“Woohoo! Isn’t this fun?!” Splinter exclaims, then sends the tank flying into a 360° spin on the surprisingly open road.

One grips the edge of his seat tight, claws tearing through the leather as if it were paper. When they continue on a straight path, the slider quickly unbuckles himself and slams his fist into the radio. The music cuts off sharply with a dying warble and soon the only thing filling the tense silence is One’s heavy breathing.

“What is wrong with you?” One snarls.

“Wh— rude. Didn't your alchemist teach you a good music taste?” Splinter retorts, making One pause and stare at the rat.

“What?”

One doesn’t recall ever mentioning Draxum in the rat’s presence. He’s made every conscious effort not to, in case Splinter turned out to be one of those bounty hunters or some shit, always after his dad’s ass. Which One thinks he could be, despite his unassuming… everything.

“Sit down!” Splinter orders before hitting the curb.

The tank bounces, knocking One back into his seat, though the slider doesn’t take his prying eyes off the rat. “How do you know about Draxum?”

Splinter’s ear twitches, muscles going stiff. “Uh—! Who doesn't know about Draxum, really.”

In any other circumstance, One might’ve brushed right past Splinter’s awkward defense. Because, really, it’s true. Draxum’s wanted posters used to be plastered all across the Hidden City. He and Two even gifted their father a framed copy for his birthday after they noticed their dwindling numbers. But literally everything else about that statement— the way Splinter said it, the way he avoids glancing in One’s general direction— makes One call bullshit. He’s hiding something.

One leans over the armchair, and narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

Tell me, you old rat. I need to know. I need to know if you’re a threat to my mission. I need to know that my brother is safe.

From where he’s sitting, One thinks he can see sweat glistening under the rodent’s fur, but Splinter doesn’t give him a good chance to wonder if that’s because he’s nervous or because of his reckless driving.

“I am about to take a right,” is One’s only warning before Splinter suddenly swerves in that direction.

One is thrown to the left, but catches himself on the other armrest with a grunt.

Splinter erupts into a fit of laughter and One feels his jaw tighten. “Oh, Blue! You are a riot, aren’t you?”

The slider whips his head around and snaps fiercely, totally unamused. “Okay, what’s the point of this?! Just tell me what I want to know!”

Splinter doesn’t seem to have noticed his little outburst as his laughter still echoes obnoxiously off of the tank’s walls. “Oh, uh. Yes. What do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” One presses again. “What do you want with us?”

“Want with you?”

“You have two genetically mutated experiments living in that dump you call a home and you have a key to the hidden city. Why?” He demands.

“Oh, that old thing?” Splinter pauses as he breaks at another stoplight. “Uh… I think it’s broken. What do you want with that?”

One scoffs, but he forces his voice to relax into an even tone. “Broken?” he asks flatly. Yeah, right.

The light turns green and Splinter continues down the road in a more calm manner.

“Yes. I am not surprised,” Splinter smiles to himself. “I learnt very quickly that my boys are very rambunctious. I had my hands full with just the two of them.” He falters, “Although… sometimes I wonder if it may have been easier if I had all of you.”

One could never guess, for the life of him, why Splinter would think that. The very thought of growing up in the sewers with this weird family makes One sick to the stomach, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much. “Probably not.”

“You remind me of Orange,” Splinter says, catching One off-guard and making him cringe. The rat’s tired eyes soften on the road. “He would ask so many questions when he was much smaller. Still does.”

The accusation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but as much as One hates being compared to someone so small and inferior, he brushes off the jab for the sake of his mission. “Yeah? I guess it runs in the family.”

“Yes,” Splinter agrees after a moment. “I am glad you are back with our family.”

One falters. Our family. One’s stomach twists. Our family. Really, he should be thrilled that his plan is working so well, but the heavy sincerity in Splinter’s voice makes him worry that his plan is working a little too well.

One scoffs and eyes the rat awkwardly. “Really?”

“Yes,” Splinter says simply. “You asked me before who I am. I am a father and you are my son. Even if you do not trust me, what I truly want is for you and your brother to know that you have a home with us. You are safe here.”

And One is so glad that the rat’s old eyes are fixed on the road, because he is having a very difficult time processing Splinter’s response.

You have a home. You’re safe.

There’s a very clear and obvious difference in the rat’s voice. There’s no more deflecting, no awkward shuffling around the truth. He’s being genuine. The thought churns the slider’s stomach.

Still, One’s suspicions aren’t so easily discarded.

One watches Splinter for a long time before he asks, “Why am I here?”

“Oof…” Splinter winces and rubs the back of his neck. “That is… a loaded question.”

“I mean in the truck. Why did you bring me out here?” Why, if he poses no threat, did Splinter decide to drag him away from his temporary “home”, from his brother? If he’s supposed to feel safe, why isolate him?

Splinter raises an eyebrow. “Oh, can I not have a pleasant casual outing with my son?”

Oh. Well, that’s stupid.

“That’s it?” One says flatly. He thinks back to the grocery trip earlier that day. “You wanted to ‘spend time’ with me?”

Just behind the shades, the rat’s expression turns depressing after the question, which makes One very uncomfortable for some reason. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Before One can answer, the tank comes to an abrupt stop, sending both One and Splinter forwards.

“What? What happened?!” Splinter cries in distress, shifting the clutch around.

One groans and pushes himself upright. “I have a pretty good idea,” he mumbles. Right as he says it, a robotic voice filters in through the speakers.

“Shopping cart protocol activated,” the voice says.

“Ugh, I don’t suppose you know how to fix this thing?” Splinter asks.

As One leans back, he watches Splinter rifle through the glove compartment. “No,” he replies blatantly. “Not really my domain.”

Splinter pulls out a wrench. “Ah, then we will figure it out together.”

One doesn’t respond, but watches Splinter as he leaves the vehicle and walks around to the front, opening the hood to mess around with the engine underneath it.

The slider thinks about his next move carefully. After some very clever detective work, One’s concluded that whatever sob story motivated the rat to adopt a couple stray turtles really doesn’t pose any kind of threat to his plan. In fact, a devoted father could become useful.

It takes Splinter about ten seconds to realize One is still in the tank. “What are you still doing in there!?”

As lame as it may be, Splinter’s expecting him to help. Though he’d rather get his head shoved through a beehive, the slider decides to hop out and join the rat. For the sake of the mission.

When he makes it to the front of the vehicle, One finds Splinter sticking his nose right into the engine. The slider raises a brow and peers into the interior of the hood, where Splinter is working and bashing the wrench into the tank’s engine.

“I thought you were trying to fix this thing, not break it more,” One chimes in after a moment.

“Yes,” Splinter says, smacking the engine again and rearing his hand back for another strike. “That is what I am doing!”

One watches unhelpfully as Splinter continues to beat the tank’s engine into complacency. With unsurprisingly no luck, the tank remains immobile.

“Well, well, well!” a low voice rumbles behind them. One spins around, eyes shooting up to greet their ugly guest.

“Yeesh, that face isn’t hard to forget,” One mumbles as he immediately recognizes Experiment 00E1-Alpha 9, or as One remembers Raph referring to the sweaty pig as ‘Meat Sweats’, which he hates to admit is a much better name.

“Oh, good! Could we catch a ride with you?” Splinter asks the large mutant. “This baby's done all she can for us,” he says mournfully as he pats the closed hood.

Meat Sweats’s mouth twists into a smile. “But of course. I was just whipping up a meal, too. Perhaps you could join me.”

Splinter looks past him, at the food truck. “Oh, good! I was getting hungry,” he chuckles and willingly walks over to the food truck. One figures he’s probably unaware of the pig’s cannibalistic habits and the slider has no intention of warning him.

His straying blue eyes drift up to Meat Sweats, whose crooked smile gives One goosebumps. One considers bailing… but a distant… familiar… angry voice rings down the street. Everyone looks up.

“HEY!”

One whips his head around, instantly spotting Two perched on the roof of a nearby building. He leaps down with Raph and Mikey beside him and advances with a burning gaze directed right at One.

One winces. Screw that.

His brother’s wrath is a force to be reckoned with, and One has just spent much more energy than he was willing to expend handling the rat. Number Two is the very last thing he wants to deal with right now, and his brother’s furious march right towards him makes hopping into Meat Sweats’ murder van seem a lot more bearable.

Apparently, Splinter has the same idea. “Uh-oh. That is our cue to get out of here!” he says quickly before jumping into the food truck. One turns without a word and follows Splinter inside, where he is already leaping into the front seat.

“Blue, take the wheel!”

“Wait, what?!” Meat Sweats cries in protest after joining the pair inside.

At the same time, One’s head swivels around. “What?”

“Go!” Splinter shouts, crouching to the floor and hitting the gas pedal with his front paws. Meat Sweats is thrown backwards as the truck launches forward.

One grabs the back of the driver’s seat for balance, but as Splinter speeds up, the vehicle starts to swerve uncontrollably. One catches the wheel as he falls into the seat. The second he has a grip on the truck, and its direction in his firm control, his eyes light up like a kid with a new toy. He realizes now that he’s never driven a car before and it is thrilling.

And, he’s pretty good at it. His turns are rough, but considering the speed they’re going and the fact that they haven’t crashed yet, One is pretty confident that he’s uncovered a hidden talent.

That is, until something rams into the truck's rear.

One grunts as his upper body jerks forward. He steals a glance at the rearview mirror, and sees that his brother and his tank are right on his tail. Through the windshield, One catches Raphael yelling something to Two, who ignores him and slams another button on his console. A second after, three loud clangs reverberate in Meat Sweats’s truck, and One whips around to see three round dents hammered into the truck’s hull.

“Ohoho, so that’s how you wanna play it?” He taunts his brother in spirit right before he yanks the emergency brake and stops the truck completely. The two vehicles collide instantly, with the tank rear-ending the food truck. One faintly hears more shouting from the tank, which swerves but doesn’t stop. Though they’ve crashed, the tank’s strength and speed keeps both vehicles racing across Brooklyn Bridge.

“My truck!” Meat Sweats wails.

“What are you doing?!” Splinter shouts over the sound of screeching rubber as One jumps out of his seat.

The slider unsheathes his ōdachi weapon and draws a wide circle in the air, making a portal that he can step into and onto the roof of the truck so that Two can see him.

“Is that the best you can do?!” One goads his brother, flashing his sharp canines in a toothy grin, which earns a muffled shriek of outrage from his brother.

“You pretentious, self-obsessed, WRITHING LITTLE MAGGOT!” Two barks loudly enough for One to hear. His brother’s next course of action is to pull a lever, which releases metal appendages that reach up and shoot at One.

The slider veers out of the way and cuts effortlessly through the appendages. When the path is clear for him to cross, One leaps onto the hood of the tank and flourishes his ōdachi. He gives Two an obnoxious grin before stabbing his weapon through the metal, killing the engine. He tugs the sword free and swings it back in an arc to rest on his shoulder. As soon as he does, the portal he cut into the back of the truck blinks to life.

As the tank sputters and dies, One steps back coolly into the portal that takes him into the truck so he can rejoin Splinter at the front. The slider smirks as he leans against the emergency break to unlock it. “Floor it,” he commands.

Splinter cackles and pushes into the gas pedal. The food truck surges forwards as it regains its own speed.

“Wait— argh!” Meat Sweats cries as he flies back through One’s portal and out on the road. Oops.

One and Splinter only get a few leagues further down the bridge before something suddenly thuds against the truck and pulls, sending it into a spin back towards the tank.

“Hey!” Splinter shouts and One grunts, holding on tight.

When the truck finally stops, One has a clear view of the scene at the tank through the truck’s windshield.

Two stands on the smoking hood with a massive cannon aiming over his shoulder and into Meat Sweat’s face. The tank’s final appendage holds the larger mutant tightly in place as he cowers from the giant weapon.

“Bring them to me.”

Meat Sweats raises his hands and One barely has the time to make an escape before two tentacles shoot at the truck and punch through its sides. They snatch up One and Splinter and pull them out, dropping them unceremoniously just outside of the tank.

“Ow!” One hisses.

“Take the rotten lot,” the mutant sneers, although One catches beads of sweat rolling down his jaw. “I’ve had it with them.”

“Two!” Mikey cries behind the softshell. He flicks his kusari-fundo and One follows the trail of its cord behind him as the end unlatches from around the truck. He narrows his eyes.

As he faces forwards, One sees his brother hold his position a moment longer before his shoulder twitches and he powers down his weapon.

“Get out of my sight,” he hisses and Meat Sweats scrambles back. He glares at Two then the rest of the group.

“Blasted turtles.” The mutant chef snorts and turns, retreating to his vehicle. “I’ll just get takeaway!”

They all listen to the sound of his tires screeching off into the city. After a brief pause, Two turns around.

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” Two huffs.

“Oh, really?” Mikey replies, unconvinced.

“It was set to stun.” Two grumbles. “It would be idiotic to murder my own experiment.”

“What?” Raph says.

Two ignores the last statement and swivels his head around. His brother’s sharpened gaze falls on One and the fire in his eyes blazes. He snarls and steps down from the tank.

“YOU.”

One sighs and stands, but doesn’t have long before Two reaches him.

“You’re DEAD!” Two lunges at his brother. One grunts as his shell hits the asphalt roughly. He fights Two off with a hiss, swatting at him and kicking. Two fights back with just as much fire, managing to grab One’s right arm and press his knee into his plastron.

For the most part, One lets his brother push him down, generously allowing the softshell to beat him up a bit, since he’s down an arm. One waits patiently for the moment when Two’s grip lets up. As soon as that opportunity presents itself, One takes advantage and flips them around, swinging Two towards him and shifting out of the way just in time to shove him into the asphalt with a knee pressed into his back, careful to steer clear of the sharp spikes raised along the spine of Two’s shell. Two grunts.

One holds his brother down with one arm as he squirms. “Okay, you need to relax!”

Two yelps and flails his arm. “You took my tech!” He barks. “It’s still in beta and you ruined it! How could you do that!?”

“It’s fine! It’ll survive a scratch or two.”

“It’ll take weeks to find a replacement!”

“You’ll find it.”

Two throws his elbow back and One has to dodge the sharp point of its armor. “What if you got your stupid arm blown off, idiot!” Two seethes.

One pushes back and Two gets a gentle face full of dirt. “Oho, you’re lecturing me about losing a limb?”

Two growls. “Don’t start–”

“Which one of us is the one who nearly died in that accident? Oh right, it was you.” One pokes at the folded fabric covering Two’s stub. “So don’t you dare scold me about my lack of self-preservation.”

Two shoves against One with a warning hiss. One hisses back.

While the boys are busy with their squabble, Splinter walks by and takes a good look at the tank, which has stopped smoking. “Excellent job, Purple. This is a sweet ride.”

Both boys freeze. For a second One and Two stare incredulously at Splinter. When he looks at his brother, One sees Two’s eyes blown open wide, completely speechless. It’s an expression One hasn’t seen since Draxum last applauded Two’s skillset forever ago. One’s eyes jump back to Splinter, who is gazing approvingly at the tank.

What? That thing?

One scoffs, muttering, “It’s not that great…” as he pushes off his brother, who’s still too stunned to comment.

“What was that? Is everyone okay?” Raph asks, joining them on the bridge.

Splinter faces his son. “Yes, we are okay,” he assures.

Red glances uneasily at One before he looks at Splinter. “Okay… good.”

Mikey jumps up next to him, crouched low enough to rub his cheek on Splinter’s. “I’m glad you're okay, Dad,” he churs. Splinter smiles softly and pats his head. “Now, let’s go home!”

As everyone piles into the tank, One falls behind to watch what Splinter considers to be their family. He watches stiffly as Two opens the hood and excitedly shows Splinter what appears to be a backup engine. Something cold and greedy writhes restlessly under his scales.

His thoughts are interrupted before he can dwell on them too much.

“One!” Raph calls. One shifts his gaze to the snapping turtle as he finishes ushering Mikey into the tank. “You comin’ brother?”

One adjusts his sword and climbs into the tank.

#emd au #emd up

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