If You Think I'm Gonna Come Up With A Title For This, You're Dead Wrong

Chapter 3

"I'm gonna—what?" Raph is quite clearly not taking this news well.

You try to calm him down. "Take a deep breath, alright? It might not get to that point, but you have to tell me what's going on first."

He growls in frustration but follows your instructions. "Mikey found out that he can apparently talk to people online, and he found this site where he can talk to—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You pick up your phone, typing away. "You can't, under any circumstance, let him go talk to Bradford."

"Well, I know it would be bad--"

"You misunderstand." You get up, starting to grab your things. "Bradford is working for the Shredder."

This seems to be news. "He's what?"

"Working for Shredder."

"But he's—how?"

"You have bigger concerns than the how, currently." You read the page you had pulled up again. "How long ago did he find this guy?"

"Yesterday, I think."

"Then... hold on." You read the summary of the episode in question more thoroughly. "Okay, so we aren't totally fucked, but we gotta make sure he doesn't see him again."

"Wait, hold on." He walks after you as you try to find your jacket. "Why? How could Shredder—"

"If he goes, he's gonna talk to him about general shit, right?" You slip it on. "At some point, in return for learning his secret bullshit, he's gonna want info on you and your dad."

"Then the Shredder will know where we are!" The horror in his eyes is apparent.

"Exactly." You pull on your shoes. "That, and you'll have to confront foot soldiers, which isn't good for anyone."

"Wait, is Mikey gonna be alright?"

"I mean, he gets kidnapped, but—"

"We're going. Right now."

"Awesome." You were already one foot out the door. "Close the window on your way out."

You rush down to the first floor of the building, nodding acknowledgment to the doorman as you look up and down the street. 'He has a dojo or something, right?' You try googling his dojo, only to find that, not only is it a chain but that they are all incredibly spread out. 'It's at times like these,' you contemplate, running towards the closest one, 'that I wish I could drive.'

It takes you about 10 minutes of running to get to the place, only for it to be closed. You feel tempted to throw your phone.

'Wait, when does it—hold on.' You already hate timelines. You sit down on the curb, pulling your phone out again to find some clips. 'So, Chris and Mikey meet up sometime after patrol, order pizza, and then it's sunrise.' You look up at the slowly lightening sky. 'Okay, so that means they're currently ordering, right? Because it was clearly dark in that last scene.' You put your head in your hand. 'I mean, it is, right? Because those are just wall separator things, not windows, since the sky was very clearly green in that next scene.' You get to your feet. 'So I just need to find that billboard with that specific graffiti and main message and we're good to go, right?' You groan. 'But there have to be a thousand billboards in fucking NYC.'
You stop, smiling slightly at the graffiti. 'Is that not a purple dragon?' You grin, going back to running. 'I just need to get to Chinatown, right? Is that their territory?' You swallow, turning a street corner. 'I guess we'll find out.'

The buildings tower around you as you wander the streets, the quiet desolation ringing in your ears with the force of a gong. The pounding of your feet against the pavement does little to stifle the silence. The gang in question may not be a challenge or concern for vigilantes but to you? You are barely a flower now, bright and beautiful and oh so easy to crush. But you cannot and will not stand still for long. The walls of the alleys you run crush your sides and the darkness strangles you, but despite the beating of your heart begging you to stop, you cannot. How can you?