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05 || 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝟏𝟐 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 - 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 - 𝟓:𝟎𝟑 𝐀𝐌

Donatello rubbed his tired eyes beneath his glasses, frustration building pressure inside his skull. The lab's ambient lighting had dimmed automatically as the night stretched into early morning, but he hadn't noticed. Five empty coffee mugs formed a semicircle around his keyboard.

"Nothing," He muttered, pushing back from his workstation. "Absolutely nothing."

The monitors surrounding him displayed a dizzying array of search results, all negative. No matches in any database. No social media presence. No academic records. No employment history. No border crossings. No facial recognition hits from traffic cameras or security systems throughout the city.

Violetta is nowhere.

Donnie picked up the small evidence bag containing the tiger claw she had dropped during their fight. Custom-made, high-grade steel with micro-serrations along the inner edge. Deadly, and different from standard Foot weapons.

"Who are you?" he whispered to the empty lab.

The footage from his shoulder cam played on a loop on one of the side monitors. Donnie had watched it so many times he'd memorized every movement, every strike, every defensive maneuver. The way she anticipated his bo staff attacks before he fully committed to them. The efficiency in her movements... no wasted energy, no unnecessary flourishes. A mind like his own, processing probabilities in real-time.

Leo's voice came from behind him. "You should get some rest."

Donnie didn't turn around. "I'm fine."

"You've been at this since we got home last night."

"She's out there, Leo. Planning something. We need to know what."

Leo approached, studying the screens. He had just woken up and planned to meditate this early morning to start the day. Sitting in his chair, his little brother was nearly slipping from it. "And we will. But exhaustion leads to errors. Even for you." He said.

Donnie sighed, knowing his brother was right but unwilling to admit it. Something about this woman had gotten under his skin like no adversary ever had before. It wasn't just her fighting prowess or her connection to the Foot. It was the disturbing sense of recognition. A feeling that went beyond combat routines.

"The way she fights, the way she thinks... It's not just standard Foot training." Donnie says quietly.

"I felt it, too," Leo admitted. "She wasn't just fighting us. She was reading us."

Donnie nodded, relieved that his brother had noticed the same thing. "Also, she's... amazing."

The older brother cocked an eyebrow ridge. "Is my brother caught in prohibited love?" Leo joked.

"No." Don answered quickly. "Nothing like that..."

The older brother laughed lightly. "Get some sleep," Leo said, placing a hand on Donnie's shoulder. "You'll have fresh eyes once you're rested."

Donnie nodded reluctantly, but as Leo left, he turned back to the screens. Sleep could wait a little more. The mystery of Violetta had sunk its hooks too deeply into his mind to let go.

He pulled up the clearest image he had of her face, a frame captured during the moment her mask had slipped. Those eyes. Gorgeous. Somehow familiar in a way that both intrigued and unsettled him. He couldn't shake that specific feature of her from his head. They're filled with a past he doesn't understand. And when Donnie doesn't understand something, it agitates him.