Chapter Text
As the sun set over New York, the sky was painted in warm hues of yellow and orange, reflecting off skyscrapers to illustrate the beautiful scape of a recovery city. Remnants of the sudden war had finally begun to disappear, leaving the memory to be just that. A memory. A story for future generations. The deep chasms where the vile appendages of rotting biogrowth sprouted from the ground, writhing and seeping into the city infrastructure, splitting the cascading layers of concrete, were finally filled. The buildings that had collapsed from falling debris and invasive matter had been replaced with scaffolding as high as the eye could see. Construction littered the streets with plaster, tiles, and new materials, clogging up the flow of civilians and traffic. No one dared complain about the changes the city was suffering, every soul painfully aware of just how much worse it could be.
The heroes of New York City remained unnamed and faceless, slowly becoming a mythic tale for children to look up to. They were slowly being forgotten, in just the right way, and just the way they intended to. Almost forgotten, at least.
Crime may have slowed, and some criminals may have given up on that life, but that didn’t mean grudges didn’t still hang heavy in the air. That didn’t mean everyone gave up on their evil ways.
Amidst the horrors of the invasion, nothing ever seemed more important than survival. Even the strictest jobs let loose in the name of seeing another day; pilots abandoned their flights, judges ran from the courtrooms, and prison guards left their posts– a bigger loss on their end, rather than the criminals they watched over. The prisons stood strong through the damage. The stone-walled, cold, and monotonous stronghold was appreciated by its inhabitants for once. Prisoners stayed in their cells, even with their freedom in reach. They kept themselves safe. All except for three.
It had been two years since the Purple Dragons escaped their cells, two years since a state-wide search had been sent out. They lay low, allowing time to consume their absence. Eventually, their lack of resurfacing eased some tensions, and the pressure lessened. Wanted criminals, yes, but untraceable and hidden, also yes.
With no eyes stuck to their every move and a need for vengeance burning strong, the high-tech team decided it was time to make a reappearance. The only problem was, they wanted a little more punch to their actions—a little more personal retribution, while they were at it.
______
Turning away from the cracked window of their hideout, the leader of the Purple Dragons yanked the curtains shut to relieve the dark lab of any unnecessary light. The sounds of another set of hands typing vigorously away on a keyboard filled the room, guiding the thoughts that swarmed her head. They were short a member, but he would be returning soon.
Their long-term absence was used to design the perfect weapon to give them everything they ever wanted. To get their hands on control. To get control of an enemy. To get back at that pesky family that got them sent to prison. The Purple Dragons would hit them where it hurt, right in the heart of their operation.
Not long passed until the old door in the corner of the room creaked open, inviting in the scrawny, pale, young man they had been waiting for. “Were you seen?” The leader dared ask.
“We’re safe, Kendra,” Jason muttered, pressing the door shut slowly and silently. “No one saw me.”
“Did you get it?” The third spoke, voice low, looking away from the bright screens he was glued to.
A sleek smile spread across Jason’s face as he unveiled the technology hidden beneath his jacket. A small, slim piece of purple metal glinted from the computer lights, lined with wires, answers, and opportunities. A small piece of a larger project they had stolen years ago, from the heart of the very artificial intelligence their target treasured. Helping that rebelling robot had always served a longer purpose, one they could finally complete.
Kendra laughed softly at a thought. That blasted turtle had such an ego, yet never noticed the missing sliver of his own design. Too caught up in his measly emotions and fake son to notice the damage. That lack of acknowledgement would cost him far more than he’ll ever know.
“Get to work, boys,” Kendra demanded, looking proudly over Jason and Jeremy. “Othello Von Ryan will be ours in no time.” She snarled, taking her seat at the center of their high-tech setup. They had a few long nights ahead of them, but all of that analysis and work would be worth it.
______
Rolling out a crook in his neck, Donnie meandered away from his spar, Leo in tow. The muscles in his legs ached, but that was a consequence he expected after skipping training for the past three days.
His youngest brother quickly stood, already jumping around to get his blood pumping and ready for his spar. “Come on, Dee, where was the flair? The razzmatazz?” He joked, throwing out a few punches. Leo took a large step forward and joined his jumping, using his hands to mimic boxing pads for Mikey. They ducked and swung at one another with bright smiles on their faces.
Stretching his arm over his head, “Leo was throwing in too much flair; it was nearly impossible to understand his movements while moving myself. That’s why.” Donnie grumbled.
“All in the strat, my dearest twin. That,” Leo pointed at Donnie with both of his hands as he ended his mock fight with Mikey and plopped down on the padded floor, “sounds like a you problem, hermano.”
Donnie scowled, “You know what’s about to be a you problem, Leo? My foot up your-”
“Alright, alright, settle down.” Raph chuckled, following Mikey into the center of the room. “You ready to lose, little man?” The snapping turtle taunted, stepping into a ready stance.
Mikey gasped, head jerking back at the name. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Raph grins.
“Oh, you’re so dead.” The youngest’s face fell flat as he slid his foot back, lowering his stance. “I’m gonna mystically whoop your ass, you won’t even know what hit you.”
“Hey, language!” Raph faltered, and Mikey immediately jumped into the fight. The twins, still breathing heavily from their spar, watched their brothers as Mikey flew throughout the room, leaving Raph stuck on the floor. Mikey’s elegant, dance-like style contrasted with Raph’s grounded, solid style, which is why Leader-Leo started pairing them together more frequently in spars. Raph struggled to adapt to that style, so he pledged to work until he could.
Donnie had his fair share of issues with fighting a looser, freer style like that, but growing up and fighting with Leo as frequently as he did, he learned to adapt quicker. It would take him a few minutes and a few slipups, but he’d begin to understand the rhythm and the patterns, and soon enough, he’d fight with an equal difficulty–all an art of analysis.
After spacing out for who knows how long, Donnie realized the fight had come to an end. To no one’s surprise, Mikey had won, rubbing in the “little man” comment in Raph’s face with no real venom in his words.
The brothers all did their cool-downs together, chatting about nothing in particular. That was until Leo started pointing out the improving points for each of them. Raph still needed to work on his agility without relying on his ninpo constructs, practicing being light on his feet rather than being stuck in one place. Mikey needed to adjust to smaller spaces a bit more; his mystic chains clambered up the space enough to even through the weilder off. Donnie had to “think less” about how he was fighting, which he felt was a wild note. How was he supposed to think less? That’s all he did. But he shrugged and acknowledged it either way, knowing that, being the natural strategist, Leo was probably, and unfortunately, right.
“Any pointers for me?” Leo opened up the floor. The three brothers thought on it for a moment, Donnie being the first to answer.
“You’re becoming too dependent on your left leg again. I know it’s nice not to have flare-ups anymore, but we can’t guarantee it won’t act up after too much use. You need to ease into the showy fighting so as not to trigger another injury.” Donnie said as he eased into an eagle stretch. “Also, make sure you’re actually doing your heat treatment.”
Leo frowned, but nodded. “I am getting ahead of myself, you’re right. I’ll slow it down a little. I swear I’ve been consistent with the treatment, I just got too sucked into Mario Kart to do it yesterday.”
Donnie nodded, content with the response. It was a rather intense Mario Kart competition the previous night. Casey Junior was finally getting the hang of video game controllers and was, for the first time, not getting last in one of the races. It got loud rather quickly. Especially when Donnie won, obviously.
“Enough chitchat,” Mikey sighed, standing from the floor, “It's time for dinner.” He skipped off, not waiting for his brothers, to the kitchen to begin his cooking. Raph was second to follow.
The twins remained in the dojo, quietly finishing their respective stretches. While the family had healed, for the most part, from the invasion, some injuries still lingered. Leo’s knee had its problems every once in a while, so he had to focus on keeping the muscles in his legs warm and relaxed. Donnie’s back and shell had suffered some nasty damage from the Technodrome, and he often found himself struggling with posture more than usual. The pain in his spine would fluctuate, so though it had faded in severity and didn’t bother him often, he made sure to work out any tension he had. Once Donnie felt he had done enough, he stood from the floor slowly. “I’ve got work to do, I’m gonna head to my lab.”
“Okay,” Leo huffed, following his brother's move. “I’ll bring you dinner once it’s ready.”
Donnie nodded, knowing there was no use in protesting. Leo patted his shoulder as he moved past, leaving Donnie the last in the room. He shut off the lights, closed the door behind him, and made his way to his lab.
A cold breeze washed over Donnie as he walked into his sterile lab space. At his entrance, several purple lights and screens whirred to life, reviving his obscenely high-tech space. A buzz filled the air, but it was swiftly overtaken by the quiet background noise of Donnie’s playlist: a confusing mix of his heavy-synth techno and his 80s jams— the perfect atmosphere for him to work.
______
Puffing out his cheeks, Donnie watched as the code he’d just finished ran by. Troubleshooting was a mandatory part of his creation process, but he always found it so boring unless he knew his design would work out perfectly. He blew out the air quickly and started creating popping noises with his mouth. The code ran smoothly with no issues, as anticipated. He had spent several days on this project and far too many hours that night. His half-eaten, now cold dinner sat beside him, cluttering up his space enough to annoy him, but he didn’t actually care enough to do anything about it.
He was leaning back in his chair, left leg hiked up to his chest as he surveyed his other screens. The Genius-Built sensors around the city hadn’t picked up any strange activity over the past hours, meaning most of the Hamaots had officially turned in for the night. It was always hard to say if Leo actually went to bed, but he knew how to regulate himself, for the most part, so Donnie wasn’t worried.
Just as his code was nearing the end of its run, a bright red warning appeared on his screen, catching him off guard. It took his eyes a few moments to adapt to the harsh color that contrasted with all of his purple.
ERROR: MALWARE DETECTED
His head jerked back in surprise. He stared, having to jog his memory of ever installing the warning. Donnie had never dealt with malware or viruses before. That didn’t mean he wasn’t prepared, though.
Donnie sat up, putting his leg down and crossing it over his knee instead. He leaned forward and paused his project, dismissing the warning. Locating his virus-detection code, he let it run, but also manually checked everything, just in case. He circled through all of his open tabs, his files, and installments. One by one, he cleared each threat of invasion, coming up empty-handed. Nothing was corrupted, nothing was lagging, no suspicious pop-ups, his battery was running no faster than usual, and nothing new had mysteriously shown up on his multitude of monitors. When his manual check came back clean and his malware sensor mirrored that, he wrote a quick note to himself to double-check the warning code. Perhaps it was outdated, since he had designed it so long ago.
Worries eased and anxiety settled; he shook his head and returned to his code. He let it complete its test run and went back to go over each word. There were no typos, but it never hurt to check, even if it was a drag. But he had good music going on in the background, and that’s how he got through any minor inconvenience in his work.
By the time he had cleared the code for further work, his lids were beginning to weigh heavily over his eyes. A yawn forced itself free from his chest, but he worked on. As he was reviewing his blueprints and plans for the next day’s projects, the warning disrupted his flow for the second time. He stared at the screen, flattening his mouth into a thin line.
Despite the annoyance, Donnie dismissed the alarm and cycled through his computers, searching for any signs of concern. He let his malware scanner go through it as well. There was no foreign entity in his tech, no glitching, no complications. The only complication was the damn alert going off with no reason.
After clearing his tech from any concern for the second time, he finished prepping the digital materials for everything he’d need the next day. He kept working, his playlist now looping through songs he’d already heard, but he paid it no mind.
When the malware warning went off for a third time, Donnie groaned and leaned back in his chair, dragging his hands down his face. He didn’t manually check anything that time, letting his code do its work. Unsurprisingly, it came up empty-handed. Not even five minutes later, the alarm went off again. “Oh my great Galileo,” Donnie grumbled, exasperated. Reluctantly, he set off his detection code and, annoyingly, stared at the computer as his answers came. Nothing! What a shocker.
Donnie took a deep breath and went about his work, trying to dismiss the angry annoyances in his mind. When the atrocious red light appeared once more, Donnie threw his hands up in frustration. He dismissed it immediately and clicked away from his work. He opened up the malware detection tab and disabled the code. He wasn’t going to get any work done if that malfunctioning warning kept going off.
With the silence and peace returned to him, Donnie continued to work. He wrapped up all his plans for that night at the reasonable hour of 4:12 AM and decided that perhaps it was time for bed. He released his battle shell from his back, the hiss of air accompanied by the release of tight tension. He rested it on its mount and began shutting down his lab, malware detection and prevention still disabled. He quietly slipped from the now darkened room and tiptoed his way through the lair. Raph would be waking up soon, and Donnie did not want to be caught amidst his late-night shenanigans.
Once safely in his room, he crawled into bed and collapsed onto his pillows. Snuggling into the soft materials, he pulled his blankets over his shoulders and curled into the warmth. Sleep took him in minutes, the exhaustion from the day dissipating as his muscles relaxed and his dreams swept him away.