Reckless. [TMNT 2012]

25. Lone Boy and Turtles; Casey

Song: Let It Burn - Red

By the time we get back to the lair Donatello has mentally recovered from his injuries, but not physically. He leans heavily on Leonardo and Michelangelo as we step into Lucy's house. Raphael and I help the two turtles lower Donatello into a chair and take steps back to examine him.

    Donatello's burns look worse in the light. His arm is covered in a dark char color and his plastron isn't much better off. His russet eyes are glazed in pain as he covers his wound with one of his hands. He looks terrible.

    Michelangelo wraps a bandage around Donatello's arm injury and puts some ice on it. "There you go, buddy. Good as new!" he says cheerfully. "Can I get you anything else? Some water? Pizza?" He whips out a DVD from behind his back and his eyes widen persuasively. "Crognard the Barbarian?!"

    Donatello doesn't seem annoyed with his young brother for once. "No thanks, Mikey. I'm good," he answers as he leans back into his chair. "I just wish I could have been more useful. I was the reason they got away. I should have been quicker."

    Leonardo stands beside Donatello and pats his good shoulder gently. "It's not your fault, Don. They were tougher to beat than normal," he sympathizes.

    "It was so hard that it's almost like Shredder was still there," Michelangelo sighs glumly as his shoulders droop.

    I feel my stomach twist at his words. Michelangelo has a point, but I'm not about to admit it. The Shredder is gone and there is no way he's coming back.

   "Did anyone catch a glimpse of what was in the crate, by chance?" Donatello questions as he hunches over. His expectant gaze trails over the four of us, but we just shrug.

   "Not really," Leonardo answers, obviously disappointed. "All I know is that it was a really small crate. Almost like some kind of wooden box."

    "And it smelled like pine trees!" Michelangelo puts in with a proud smile, as if the information will help us save New York.

    "No designs or symbols on the crate?" Donatello presses on curiously, the concern spreading further across his face.

    I exchange a glance with Raphael and shake my head. "It was just a crate, dude," I say to the insistent purple turtle.

    Donatello slouches down in his chair. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. After a long silence, he seems to give up on remembering anything about the crate himself.

    "I don't know what they're collecting then," the intelligent turtle sighs in defeat. "It could be anything from guns to Christmas decorations."

    "No offense, Don, but I don't think Tiger Claw would be sneaking Christmas thingamabobs into New York," Michelangelo comments, and then adds in a quieter voice to Raphael, "And you say I'm the dumb one."

    This earns earning an indignant expression from the Donatello. "I'm just clarifying our lack of knowledge about the stolen shipment," the purple-clad turtle grumbles as he covers his face with his hand. The pain he is in must be making him irritable, because he is not acting like himself.

    Leonardo straightens up and focuses on me. "Well, the best thing we can do now is double patrols. I'll take patrols out to the pier more often to make sure that we catch them next time," he announces in his usual, authoritative voice.

    "Why don't we just find their home and take them out there?" I suggest with a scowl. "We can end this whole charade right now!"

    "There's two things wrong with that plan," Leonardo begins with a small shake of his head. "First, Donatello is wounded from just fighting three of them. If we go straight into their home where there's even more of them, there's a high chance that we won't walk out at all. Second, we don't know where they're staying at."