A Brother's Intuition

Enemy of My Enemy

The first place Raphael decided to search for Foot activity was the docks. Even if the Foot weren't there, it was usually a hotspot for troublemakers. Fortunately for him, it took less than ten minutes of careful observation to find exactly what he was looking for. Below him on the docks ten Foot soldiers appeared to be standing guard,while ten more were moving unmarked crates from one truck to another.

Raphael scaled a stack of intermodal containers as silently as he could. He crouched on the corner and looked down, his eyes counting and positioning each Foot soldier carefully as he mentally created a plan of action. Given the number of Foot, and the fact that Raph had no desire to get his head blown off, a stealth tactic seemed the best option.

The muscles in Raphael's thighs and calves rippled with tension as he readied to hurl himself down into the shadows below. He spun a sai pensively in his right hand and awaited the perfect moment. The moonlight struck the hilt, highlighting the rugged perfection of the sai's well-worn and meticulously cared-for monouchi. The matching yoku, the weapon's wing-like prongs, were silhouetted ever so softly, yet the backlight tapering slowly down towards the sharp tips spoke of deadly power.

Three, thick, green fingers wrapped tightly around the base of his weapons as the moment arrived, but before he could even push off, his movement was halted by a harsh battle cry. Rising to his full height and glaring down over the edge of the intermodal containers, Raph watched as a human leaped from the shadows and began beating the crap out of the Foot punks with a hockey stick.

Who the shell is that? Raphael thought to himself as he watched the guy fight. Humming appreciatively as the guy took out two armed Foot with one swing, Raph's eyes slowly scanned the human.

The guy was young, or at least very well built. Big, well-defined muscles could be faintly seen through his baggy jeans and tattered vest. His arms were ripped, which was increasingly obvious with every swing. Shoulder-length black hair whipped about as he turned to swat down Foot soldiers at every angle, some of it sticking to the perspiration on his thick neck. The man's face was obscured by a stark-white hockey mask.

For a brief moment during the fight, the man looked up and over to the shadows in which Raphael was concealed, as though sensing the turtle's gaze on him.

Shit! I can't let him see me! Raph thought as he drew further back from the edge.

Deciding that whatever opportunity he might have had to learn more about the Foot's plans was ruined, Raphael was about to leave the hockey-masked vigilante to fend for himself when a Foot soldier came up behind the human. Hockey Mask--as Raph had internally dubbed him--was already dealing with three Foot Soldiers on one side. He wouldn't notice this one until it was too late.

Raphael acted on pure instinct. He dropped down, taking the Foot out from above with a flip and a back kick, before melting back into the shadows.

Hockey Mask took down the three Foot in front of him and a soft scuffle behind him made him turn. He whipped around in time to see another Foot soldier, one he hadn't realized was there, fall to the ground like a sack of bricks. Blinking curiously at the unconscious Foot for few moments he caught his breath. He slowly realized that he was no longer alone and his dark eyes narrowed. "Whoever you are, come out where I can see ya!" He drawled in a thick Brooklyn.

Part of Raph told him to leave right then, but part of him, the more mischievous part, whispered that he should have a little fun with this 'vigilante.'

"You don't want to see me." Raph said, giving into his mischievous side.

The masked face turned directly towards the shadows Raph was currently concealed in. "Whatsamatta? Ya too scared?"