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Braving it in the New World	By : EvaBrick Category: Comics > Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Views: 10090 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own the Ninja Turtles, nor am I making any money from them. I'm just borrowing the boys for a while. I do own my original characters.

Chapter List
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Raphael rolled over on the couch and checked the time on his shell cell. It was nearly 4am and Estrella wasn’t back yet. She was never later than 2:30. He punched in her cell number and waited as it rang.
“Hello?” Estrella sounded like she was whispering. In the background, he could hear the club music pounding.
“Just wonderin’ where ya are,” Raphael said. “It’s nearly dawn.” He stretched and wiped the sleep from his eyes.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “There’s this bunch of guys here for a private party. The boss called a some extra girls in and everything. I think they’re gang.”
Raphael sat up straight. “Bloods or Crips?” he asked. Both groups were dangerous and anytime they gathered there was always a chance of a drive-by shooting that usually resulted in some innocent person being killed.
“No… they’re not black,” she said. “They’re… I dunno… Asian or something. They’ve got matching tattoos on the backs of their necks.”
“Chinese mafia?” Raphael said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Be polite, kochanie. Don’t piss ‘em off.” There was a long pause and Raphael wondered for a moment if he hadn’t heard a woman scream. “Estrella?” he asked. “Que pasa?”
In rapid-fire Spanish, she said that some of the patrons were insisting on more than a lap-dance. Glass broke and this time Raphael definitely heard a woman scream. And then he heard something that sent cold terror into the depths of his soul… someone in the background was speaking Japanese.
“What do the tattoos look like?” he asked. There was more commotion and she didn’t answer right away. “Estralla! Answer me!” he barked. “What do the tattoos look like?” He gripped the phone with white knuckles as he waited for the dreaded answer.
“A footprint… a left foot… I gotta go, Raphael. The boss wants me to dance.”
He stood and grabbed his trench coat to pull our his hidden sais. “I’m coming to get ya,” he said.
“No!” she whispered in Spanish. “They’re dangerous!”
“So am I, mami,” Raphael growled.
*****
April sat up in bed and snapped on the light as she head the living room window band open. Beside her, Yoshi hastily got out of bed and pulled on a shirt. Before either of them could say anything, their bedroom door burst open and Raphael’s large frame filled the doorway. He pushed his way past Splinter and gently deposited Miguel on the sheets next to April. The little boy was asleep and had the ends of Raphael’s mask in a tight grip.
“His name is Miguel,” Raphael said as he tugged his mask loose. “I have to go save his mom - I think the Foot Clan is havin’ a party.” He turned to hurry out of the room.
Yoshi reached under the bed and pulled out a katana. “I will come with you, Raphael,” he said.
Raphael turned to look at his father. “No, sensei. If Shredder really is still alive, it’s better fer us all if he thinks yer dead. You’ve suffered enough. We’ll handle it. Just protect Miguel fer me… he’s a good kid, but he’s gotta mouth on ‘im.”
April smiled and stoked Miguel’s hair. “Sounds like someone I know,” she said.
*****
Raphael crouched on the rooftop across from the strip club. The bouncer at the door looked nervous. Leonardo crouched down on one side of him and Donatello and Michelangelo flanked him on the other side.
“How many girls are in there?” Leonardo growled. The club music pounded out a heavy bass beat that rumbled under their feet. The turtles flinched as the sounds of a scream echoed faintly over the music.
“I dunno,” the red turtle growled, “but she said they’d called in extras.”
Leonardo nodded. “There’s a backdoor and a side exit… but we won’t be able to cover the front without being seen.”
Raphael pulled his fedora down lower over his face. “Anyone who sees me won’t live to tell the tale.”
Michelangelo sighed and pulled out his nunchucks. “Remember when we used to just beat people up and leave ‘em for the cops?”
“Remember when we didn’t have anyone we loved enough to kill for?” Raphael countered. “The stakes are higher now, bro.”
“You’re in love with this girl?” Donatello asked.
Raphael shrugged and looked back to the bouncer. “I guess I’m about to find out.”
*****
Raphael walked right up behind the bouncer and pinched the guy’s neck. He dropped like a stone and the red turtle dragged him into an alleyway. Part of him felt guilty for using a forbidden move right out of Master Splinter’s book, but part of him liked how easy it had been to render the man unconscious.
He walked in the front door of the club and took in the chaos. Besides, the book had said that there was only the possibility of brain damage… and was that really worse than a concussion?
He almost walked past the dodgy coat check vestibule, but paused when he heard a whimper. He glanced inside the window and saw a man in an expensive suit, pressing the coat check girl into the wall. The girl struggled to get free, but the man back-handed her and tried to tug up her skirt. The girl met Raphael’s eyes over the man’s shoulder. She looked terrified.
Raphael reached through the window and grabbed the man by the back of his collar. He yanked him close to the window and stabbed him neatly between the ribs. His sai ran right through the man’s heart, killing him instantly. Raphael looked back at the girl. “Get out,” he ordered. The girl hesitated for a moment, then ran for the door. The dead man’s head tipped forward and Raphael frowned at the Foot Clan tattoo on the back of his neck. He took a picture with his shell cell and texted it to his brothers so they’d know for sure who they were dealing with.
He dropped the man and pulled the collar of his trench coat up higher before he pushed through the main doors into the club. He stayed in the shadows and scanned the stage for Estrella, but she wasn’t one of the frightened-looking dancers. There were about twenty Japanese men in suits, lounging around the place. Some were watching the dancers while other played cards. From the bulges in the sides of their jackets, Raphael guessed that they were all packing heat. They were dressed well, but they looked like a rough crew. They reminded Raphael of the Foot soldiers he fought as a teenager… these guys weren’t punks, they were the real deal. For a moment, he wished Donatello had stayed home… the purple turtle had a wife and baby to think of now.
At the back of the club, a man was guarding a stage door. Raphael’s pulse quickened - if Estrella was still here, she had to be back there. He made his way around the outskirts of the large room and walked up to the guard. “The boss wants you out back,” he said in Japanese. “There’s trouble.” It was a gamble, but if they were the real Foot, then this guy had to speak Japanese.
“Who the hell are you?” the man responded, in Japanese.
“I’m the guy the boss calls when there’s trouble,” Raphael responded with the most dangerous, cold tone he could muster. “Now get moving, or I’ll rip your throat out.”
The man hesitated for a moment and then went out the back door. He hoped Leo wouldn’t be too surprised by the man, but he tried to have faith in his brother’s training. He stood in the man’s place as if on guard, waiting as the seconds ticked by. The door opened again and Leo stepped in. One of his katanas dripped with blood. The blur turtle wiped it on his sleeve and locked eyes with Raphael before looking pointedly up at the ceiling. Raphael followed his gaze and saw that Donatello was perched above the ventilation system. They exchanged quick nods, then Raphael slipped into the back.
Raphael had guessed that there were private lap dance rooms back here, but he was surprised at how filthy they were. He shuddered at a dried cum stain on the wall. Lipstick was smeared next to it. The possibilities of how they got there were too gross to consider.
He tried the first room. It was empty. The door to the second room was locked. He knocked and said, “Open up,” in Japanese. Someone cursed and it opened a crack. Raphael kicked it in and punched the guy in the throat. The man’s windpipe collapsed and he dropped to the floor, gasping for a breath he could draw. Raphael stepped on his face and twisted his foot so the man’s neck broke. Splinter would not have approved of such an unnecessarily violent death, but if the guy was going to die anyway, what difference did it make?
Raphael looked in the corner where a stripper cowered in fear. She had a fat lip and it pissed him off. “Lock the door behind me and don’t open it until the cops come,” he said, before he stepped out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him and he heard the lock click.
The third room was a peep show room and he leaned down to see inside. A man’s face slammed into the plexiglas and exploded in blood. The door swung open a moment later and Michelangelo stepped out in an attack pose. He relaxed when he saw his brother.
A scream rang out in the main part of the club and Michelanglo tore down the hallway to help his brothers. Raphael moved on to the last room. The door wasn’t locked. Inside were three men and one of them had a gun pointed at Estrella. “We were here first!” one of the others snarled at Raphael in Japanese. “This one is a real bitch, but you still have to wait in line.”
Raphael snorted and played along he wondered if Estrella recognized his trench coat and hat but she hadn’t taken her eyes off the gun. “You need a gun to control a woman?” he responded The man pointed to the scratches on his face. “This kitten has claws.”
Raphael smirked and felt a surge of pride for his not-quite girlfriend. He shrugged and moved to the centre of the room where a chair sat, waiting for the lucky recipient of a lap dance. “If you can’t handle a woman, I’ll show you how,” he said, still in Japanese.
“Hey! We were here first!” the guy with the gun said. “I told you to get in line!”
Raphael walked calmly over to the unarmed men and with a quick motion, broke one guy’s neck. He slammed his palm into the other guy’s face, driving his nose cartilage into his brain. Estrella screamed and the guy with the gun looked sick. “There,” Raphael said. “I just shortened your wait.” He didn’t dare touch the third man while he had the gun trained on Estrella… it was too risky.
Raphael sat on the wooden chair in the centre of the room. The lights were very dim, not to set the mood, but because bulbs had burned out. “Let’s go, chica,” he said.
She hesitated and the man with the gun cleared his throat and said, “Y-you heard him.”
Estrella moved slowly over to Raphael and carefully straddled him as the club music blared through the speakers. She ran her long, painted nails down the front of his trench coat, then slipped them inside. She froze for a second as her trembling hand brushed over his plastron. Raphael tipped his head up a bit so she could see his face under his hat. Her expression was a mixture of confusion and relief. Her hand touched the cold metal of his sai and she froze.
“Careful, kochanie, those are sharp,” Raphael murmured. Estrella gasped and pulled her hand back. She composed herself and ground her big, round butt into his lap.
“That knife thing… it’s real?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” Raphael growled. If it wasn’t for the moral danger they were in, he’d be rock hard in his shell. He watched her butt move and tried not to groan.
“And you,” she said. “You’re… real?”
“Yeah… I’m real.”
Estrella turned again and put one knee carefully between his legs as she leaned forward on the chair, giving him such a clear view down her dress that he could see her pierced belly button.
Raphael chuckled, “Relax mami, it’s under the shell. Yer not gonna crush anything.”
Estrella moved her knee in to touch his groin. It was warm, but there was no penis. “Is he still watching us?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Raph said. “I can’t kill him until he takes that gun off ya.”
Estrella shuddered. “But you are gonna kill him?”
Raphael nodded and ran a hand over her round hip.
“This is scary,” Estrella said.
“Which part? Givin’ a lap dance to a mutant or bein’ held hostage?”
She ran her hand between his legs and his breath hitched. “The hostage part… What will happen to Miguel if… if...”
“He’s with my father. He’s safe.”
Estrella dipped her fingers inside his shell and stroked the side of his leathery balls. With tears in her eyes, she leaned in and kissed him as he gasped. She pulled back as she felt his wide tongue flick over hers.
Raphael opened his trench coat to give him better access to his sais and reached a hand out for her. She took it and he helped her straddle his lap again. “Give this guy a show,” he said. “Distract him fer me.” Estrella nodded and rocked against him, grinding her warm core against the bottom of his shell. Her spandex dress rose up, exposing her ass and Raphael cupped it with his hands.
“I have wanted to touch dat booty of your for months,” he whispered as she leaned in to kissed him again. “Yer a fuckin’ goddess, babe.” His dick was tightening in his shell. This was the most stupid and dangerous thing he had ever done.
He pulled Estrella in for another kiss and watched as the man’s eyes went to her ass. In a second he had shoved her aside and had thrown a sai into the man’s throat. The man dropped his gun and fell in a gurgling heap on the floor. Raphael pulled his sai out of the man’s neck, grabbed Estrella’s hand, and dragged her from the room. She teetered on her ridiculously high heels so he tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the fire escape.
The night air was cool and he ducked into an alley before he set her down. She tugged her short dress down and wrapped her arms around herself as sobs shook her. Raphael slipped off his coat and pulled it around her shoulders. “It’s alright, mami,” he said, gently. “You’re safe, but I’ve got to go back to help my brothers.” In the darkness of the alley, someone cleared his throat. Raphael rolled his eyes. “Nevermind, they’re spying on us.”
“We were trying to give you a moment,” Michelangelo said as the other turtles emerged from the shadows. “You’re welcome.”
Estrella wiped away her tears and hiccupped. Her mascara was running down her face. “I know you,” she sniffled as she saw Michelangelo. “You’re the other barista.”
“Barista by day, badass by night,” Mike confirmed. His voice was deep from the testosterone burst and he was bleeding from a slash in his bicep. The other turtles had a healthy collection of nicks and scrapes. Donatello looked like he was getting a black eye. Leonardo had a ninja star stuck in his plastron.
Raphael sighed at him. “Again, bro?”
Leonardo wiggled it but it wouldn’t budge. “What do you mean ‘again?’” he grumbled. “Last time it was an ice pick. This is completely different.”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Raphael took Estrella’s hand and led her into the next alley. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered.
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Braving it in the New World