Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Day of the Rat (A 90s Movies Story)

Chapter 3: Crossed Lines

The motorcycle was concealed within easy reach, leaning against a pile of scrap metal, invisible in the dark unless you knew it was there. The gates of the junkyard were in sight, the leather-clad rider hidden from view. The figures in black arrived, silently, out of the night.

They wore spandex masks stretched across the face, eyes protected by a thin mesh that bulged out and gave them an insect-like appearance. Armored pieces protected vulnerable soft tissue. Military surplus boots. A red bandana tied around the forehead.

Soldiers of the Foot Clan.

Two of them darted across the road from the junkyard gates and into the back of the parked van. Off for some more looting, no doubt – it looked like the Foot were building their empire up again, the same way as before. The rider's heart was racing. There was a decision to make right now.

Decision made.

Stepping out of hiding, the rider began climbing a pile of junk. This was further than the rider was used to venturing from the bike on these expeditions, but the risk was judged worth it. Upon reaching the top, the reward was a view past the fence that surrounded the junkyard and the sight of several more Foot ninja. Patrolling, repairing, training. A few of them were up on the roof of the large workshop hut at the back of the yard, fixing some damage.

The Foot had abandoned this base weeks ago in the chaos that had followed the Shredder's death. Why had they returned? Had something renewed their confidence? The rider ducked down when it looked like one of the ninja on the roof of the workshop was looking this way, and decided to go and ponder these questions in greater safety.

***

Master Splinter was not used to telephones. Here he was, however, waiting to be connected. His demeanor was, for him, unusually nervous.

"Haaai!" He slammed the receiver down in temper. Again, this was highly unusual behavior for Splinter. Much as he disliked these "answering machines", he had been expecting to be connected with one and hoped at least to have a chance to leave his message.

"Where are you, my sons...?" he pondered. He thought for a moment, and glanced again at the phone.

Time was difficult to gauge down here, but Splinter knew it was early, far too early, so he had some time to consider the options before having to commit himself to this course of action. His fallback plan. He felt, however, there was little choice.

***

The sun was rising, and the shaft of light that entered the apartment through the slightly open window was a warm yellow. Must be about seven, thought April sleepily as she came quietly down the stairs in her nightgown. Early, but a little late for a burglar.

Tightening her grip on the cricket bat she held as a makeshift weapon, she took a look around. There it was again. Scrabbling.

There was a flash of movement in her peripheral vision, and the keys she had left on the table went clattering to the floor. Then something darted across the room. That's one big cockroach, or... Moving forward, bat at the ready, April came face to face with the intruder...

The rat held eye contact for barely a second, and scampered up onto the breakfast bar, jumped and was through the gap in the window and away.

The open window. The one she had definitely closed. April rushed over and looked out. Just the usual view, down onto the street. She slid the window closed and locked it again, and pushed hair out of her face.

Rats can open windows now...? What's going on here...? The phone rang, distracting her. She went over to the cordless handset and picked it up.