Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Leo jerks awake to his phone alarm.

Quietly, he slips out of his mattress-on-the-floor bed and crawls across the plywood floor to the power bank his phone is plugged into and silences the damn thing. He glances over, but Bella is still face-down on her own mattress, completely still. Leo watches for a minute until he can be sure she’s still breathing before he gets up.

One thing he likes about living in the Yokai quarters-they have to share the bathroom with far fewer people. Out in gen pop, everyone shares the same two. It’s such a crowd that they had to set up showers in one of the tunnels and have everything drain into the subway tracks-which never seemed to drain all the way and smelled awful-and after a while they had installed some portable pump sinks outside the bathrooms just so people could wash their hands and face or brush their teeth without crowding the toilets.

The Yokai that have moved here temporarily have set up shop in one of the upper tunnels however, and had access to all the maintenance areas. Most notably, a ‘private’ bathroom. It still required a similar set-up, with showers and an extra sink set up outside, but there was far more privacy. And he only had to share it with three dozen other people, versus a hundred to a toilet.

And, look, Leo shared a single squat toilet and a cooking pot with a garden hose for a bathtub with four other guys until Donnie learned how to do plumbing. He has three brothers, two of which have zero sense of personal space. He knows how to share.

But this level of sharing is absolutely murder on his nerves.

He brushes his teeth and takes care of his morning bathroom routine quickly, reveling in the relative quiet. Back in the hovel he calls home for now, Leo throws on some pants and does up the boots Angela insists he wear. Bella hasn’t so much as twitched. She had stumbled in long after Leo went to bed last night, as she does every night. Josh’s floor-bed is empty, as is Reed and Cho’s inflatable mattress, but they all have morning shifts and Reed is in quarantine.

His N95 mask has to go around his head. Since he doesn’t have ears. It actually isn’t an N95, since the term is trademarked by the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health, but he still calls it that out of spite.

Another perk of living up here-the walk to work takes about thirty seconds.

“Helloooooo.” Leo poses as he lets the door swing closed behind him. “No, really, hold your applause.”

Angela has a flashlight in a human girl’s mouth and doesn’t even look up to greet him. “Oh good, you’re here.” She motions for the girl to tilt her head back. “Sixteen new appointments, I need you to get their charts ready. Michael B is coming back at eleven.”

“Again?”

“Until we get the paperwork to send him on to Witch Town, yes, again. Pull his chart first.”

“Aye-aye.” Leo takes his temperature quick and writes the result down, glancing over the whiteboard schedule with a grimace. Most of these he’s going to have to rush to finish their charts before their slots. He’s slowly but surely working his way through the pile, but it’s hard to make progress when he constantly has to interrupt his flow to pull someone’s chart from the lineup and finish it quick because they’re coming in to see the doc. He’s still only partway through the J’s. The rest of the alphabet will go quicker as time goes on, since he’ll have so many of the charts done already, but still. And that’s on top of checking people in and all the other random jobs they have him doing.

New mutants have a lot of medical issues, he’s finding out.

Most are benign, at least with this batch of mutants. Weird intense pains as their bodies adjusted to their new forms, random teeth growing in because I don’t know what to tell you, your body just does that now. Random bouts of hyperactivity and sweating was known as ‘post-mutation high mania’ and was caused by your adrenaline glands getting spooked and throwing themselves into hyperdrive, which was expected to taper off gradually. Sometimes hemorrhoids happened, sometimes random nosebleeds. The vast majority of it was just discomfort more than anything, and most were expected to clear up on its own. Eventually.

But sometimes it was more serious. Like Michael B with his heart. And it was better to waste the doctor’s time with something that turned out to be not a big deal rather than stay silent about something that’ll kill you.

He goes to the records closet first, passing through the magic barrier that’s only attuned to him and everyone else who works or volunteers here and unlocking the cabinet with the key he’s entrusted with. He’s all important now, with work keys and shit. Now he just needs one of those loopy wrist things with a keychain attached and he’ll cement his working man image.

Thirteen charts, six of them actually completed. Joy. He’ll have to track down the other three, Michael’s is probably on someone’s desk. They must be done if they’re in use, at least, so he’ll just have to fill the appointment sheet for those. Human Girl is still in the main area when he carries everything back, kicking her feet on the table as Angela has her back turned. She watches Leo warily, like she’s never seen a turtle before.

Michael B trots in just as Leo is finishing up paper-clipping the last of the paperwork to their charts. None of it is sorted by time or the doctor they’re seeing yet, but he can deal with that later. “Hey man.” Leo picks up Michael’s chart and plucks a pen from the cup nearby. “How’s it going today?”

“Hey, Leo.” Michael’s fingers tap against his cane, his eyes glancing around furtively. “Um, doing okay. Just the usual, you know.”

Michael is only a few years older than Leo is and worked with Mikey in the kitchen until his fatigue and muscle weakness left him unable to stand for long periods of time, prompting his initial doctor visit. Since then it’s been an onslaught of tests and observations trying to find out what’s wrong with his heart. 

He’s also had a lot of trouble walking upright, but that’s just something that can happen when you mutate into a bee.

Really, he needs to be at the hospital in Witch Town. He’s going to need surgery sooner or later, and they just cannot do open-heart surgery in a goddamn subway tunnel. But Witch Town is only allowing people through if they’re on the verge of death, and so far Micheal B isn’t dying. Leo just hopes they can get him over there fast if he starts.

“Angela is off with a walk-in, she’ll be back in a few. Now come on, you know the drill.” Leo clicks his pen importantly.

Michael follows him slowly, leaning his cane against the table that serves as Leo’s desk. “We really have to do this every time?”

“We really do, Angela will have my shell if I don’t get it.”

“I’m the same height as I was two days ago.”

“Not true for everyone. Jacinta is growing an inch a week, we gotta keep on top of this.” Though she’s slowing down, thankfully. Yokai are still bound to biology, and something he’s learned about biology in the past weeks-all land animals on Earth have a limit on how big they can get. After a point the energy needed to move under the weight of gravity is too great, their hearts and metabolisms can’t keep up. They end up too bogged down by their own weight to function.

It makes him think about Raph, how big he’ll eventually get. Alligator snapping turtles were aquatic, and after they got big enough they never left the water. They were simply too big and heavy to function, and they never stopped growing for as long as they lived. Kappa Yokai eventually stopped growing-he supposes, because all the ones who didn’t produce the hormones to stop didn’t live for very long-but Draxum made them for war. Would he make their bodies to trigger that ‘done with growing’ hormone, or would it serve him better to have a giant on his team for as long as survived? He didn’t need them to live long after their purpose was fulfilled, after all.

His doctor friends reassured him when the subject was brought up. They could stop Raph’s growth if needed, gigantism wasn’t that uncommon of a problem among Yokai. Even humans had figured out how to make that hormone artificially. A few shots every couple of years and he’d be fine. And that made Leo feel a little better. 

It would have made him feel a lot better if Raph was with someone he knows would do the same.

“She doesn’t have strep,” Angela says when she returns, rubbing the bridge of her nose where her barbell piercing is. “So there’s that. At least.”

“Covid test came back negative?”

“Thankfully. It might just be a flu strain, which isn’t ideal but it’s better than the other options. I’ve quarantined her in B, I’m going to monitor her for a few days.”

“Noted. What’s her name?”

“Hannah Longston. No allergies, her mom’s coming by later to drop off some of her stuff. If anyone else comes in with flu symptoms, put them in a quarantine room right away.”

“Okay. Do you want me to flu test her mom?”

“Might as well. But if she’s started spreading it already we’re fucked.” She shakes her head as she glances over the file Leo just handed her. “Michael, we’re going to go back to the office, give us a bit more privacy. Leo probably wants to play his trash pop music.” 

“Uh, how dare you. I only play smooth jazz out here.”

The next patient comes in less than two minutes later.

Leo checks people in, gets heights and weights and takes blood pressures and temperatures and writes down all sorts of numbers he’s been told to write down. Administers a few covid tests, sterilizes surfaces after they’ve been used, and distracts a very large cow mutant as Josh takes blood from his arm.

It’s good work. It’s intense, engaging work, and Leo busies himself with charts and numbers and smiles and for a few hours he doesn’t have to think about anything else.

They’re less busy by the time his lunch break rolls around. He always feels a little guilty for taking a lunch hour, considering the doctors never do and just eat at their desks, but he just gets tired so easily now. And even though his injuries have mostly healed, he’s still building back muscle and gaining weight. Angela wouldn’t hear of him skipping meals. He takes everyone else’s order (besides Josh, who rarely eats anything he hasn’t made himself) and shuffles off down to the main floor.

Mikey is waiting for him in their usual spot, a long cafeteria table that’s filled up at meal times but is deserted after lunch. He stands up as Leo walks up, hugging him tight around the midsection and helping him sit down on the bench, even though Leo doesn’t really need help with that anymore.

“A real treat today,” Mikey says, pushing a dish in front of him and removing the cover with a flourish. “Four cheese tortellini. Even scored you some with chicken.”

It’s maybe an ounce of shredded chicken, but Leo smiles all the same. “Thanks, Angelo. It looks great.”

“Of course!” He pulls the cover off his own dish, handing Leo a fork before digging into his own. Without meat. He’s noticed that. They’re supposed to alternate who gets meat dishes and who gets the vegetarian option so everyone gets their proteins, but Leo’s ‘turn’ seems to come up with surprising frequency. “We made these cookie bar things for dessert,” Mikey says through a mouthful of pasta. “I don’t think they turned out super well, but everyone said they liked them.”

“Cookies are cookies. Besides, everything you make tastes great.”

“Mmm.” Mikey holds his hand over his mouth as he swallows. “Jody thinks we should raise chickens down here. Free eggs and they don’t really smell.”

“Can chickens live underground?”

“Probably? A bunch of people in Witch Town have them.” 

“They have that mystic aura thing that fakes the sky, they won’t have that down here. What do they eat?”

“Anything, I think? They eat stuff humans can’t digest.”

“Most people here aren’t human, feeding them needs to come before animals. Plus chickens are super dusty, our ventilation system already needs work. And do you really think you could butcher one after you raised it?”

“Okay, I get it.” Mikey presses his fork down, squashing a tortellini. “Bad idea.”

Leo breathes out. “No, sorry. It’s not a bad idea. I’m just thinking of the logistics. If you bring it up at one of the meetings just…you know, be sure you have the answers for all that. Cuz they’ll ask.” Leo taps his fingers on the table. “So are Claire and Gino together yet or what?”

Mikey’s face lights up then, and he rolls his eyes. “Ugh, no, they’re totally being thick about it. Claire’s pretending like she’s too busy to date even though we’re literally not doing anything else, and Gino is all flustered about it. Apparently he was like, a giant ladies man before this, I don’t know if getting turned into a bird is messing with his groove or if he just really likes Claire.”

“Aw. Maybe he’s going through character development.”

“We keep telling him she’s obviously into him back. I mean, you’ve noticed it, Mrs. O’Neil has noticed it.”

“Kind of hard to miss, they’re flirting all over the dinner line.” Leo doesn’t often eat at peak meal times, but on the occasions he’s gotten in line he’s definitely noticed those two are always on expo together. Usually he finds that cringe, but they’re more cute than obnoxious about it.

“I know, but he’s still too nervous! Maybe she’ll be the one to make the first move, girlboss it up. It was funny the other day though, when Gino found out she was white before this.”

“I thought she was Asian. Isn’t her last name Nguyen?”

“Oh right, I forgot about that. Kinda hard to tell considering her dad is a cat now.”

Mikey fills him in on all the kitchen gossip as they eat. Some of the rest of the kitchen crew are at different tables taking their own lunch break, with Isaiah and an older squirrel lady named Lisa wiping down tables. Nia comes over to hear what the rest of the infirmary wants and says she’ll have it waiting for him under the warming lights when he’s done.

He’s enjoying his cookie bar-a little grainy from the sugar, but still good-when Mikey starts it up again.

“Dad wants you to come home.”

Leo swallows. “Dad knows where to find me.”

“He’s not going to apologize, Leo. Come on, you know him.”

“Then he’s just going to have to deal. I’m not coming back. When he wants to apologize he knows where I am.”

“He cries sometimes,” Mikey says. “And I think he naps in your bed when no one’s there.”

“That’s nice. I’m still not coming back until he apologizes.” Mrs. O’Neil was on his side, she said his dad needed therapy. Mr. O’Neil said the same thing, but thinks Leo should go home and work on getting an apology out of Dad from there. 

His new unit was perfectly fine with him staying with them-he did have to bunk with Bella for the first two nights before they could get an extra mattress, which he was grateful for because Bella is a cuddler and sleeping with her was like sleeping with a furnace-and truthfully, he likes staying in the Yokai quarters. Even with plywood walls and curtains for doors, it’s quieter than gen pop. And it’s right next to his work. On bad knee days Mikey will bring him meals so he doesn’t have to tackle stairs, but those happen rarely and it’s usually just dinner after a day he’d been walking around a lot. He eats with Mikey at least once a day, Mr and Mrs. O’Neil often eat with him for the other meal, and April wasn’t talking to him anyway. Leo is honestly fine with the arrangement.

“I think he is sorry,” Mikey says. “But you know how he is, Leo, he’s not going to apologize if he doesn’t think he was in the wrong.”

“Then he’s not actually sorry. I don’t think I’m asking too much, I’m the one who had to explain to everyone why I had a bruise the size of a taco on my face for a week.”

“He didn’t mean to-”

“He did.”

There were a lot of things in life Leo didn’t mean to do. Didn’t mean to happen. Didn’t change the fact that they did.

“What if he never apologizes?” Mikey challenges. “Are you just never going to come back?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“Leo.”

“What’s he gonna do, make security drag me back to a different shanty than the one I’m living in now? I’m almost an adult, I can live on my own if I want.”

Truth be told, Leo’s not sure why he’s so particularly upset about this. It wasn’t like Dad never hit him before. Or never hit hard enough to bruise before. Maybe not as bad as this one, but Leo was no stranger to looking a little beat up-with three brothers who all loved roughhousing it was just an inevitability. The fact that Dad hit them never really bothered him before, it was just…how shit was. They’re mutant turtles, Jeopardy was on at seven, and if they were acting up Dad would smack them. And honestly, Leo was a shitty kid. He deserved to get smacked a bit.

Maybe it was that Dad accused him of lying. Which he apparently still maintains, even though Mikey has 100% smoked pot since then without Leo involved at all. Maybe the fact that Leo has a big boy job now and had to tell his new boss that his face looked like someone had driven over it with a unicycle because his dad decided to whip him across the cheek, that it’s hard to maintain an air of professionalism and maturity when he’s still bearing evidence of his father physically disciplining him. Or maybe it was the moral righteousness that had him sick, that after so many years of ignoring them Dad thinks he can just pick up the parenting stick whenever he feels like it, act like the strict parent he never was and just expect them to jump into place. A place Leo doesn’t even know how to take, because Leo has never had a dad like that.

When he thinks about it, it’s not like Dad ever beat them. Leo can’t think of a single instance where any of them was given more than a single strike at once. He’d react quickly, lashing out with his tail or palm or occasionally his cane, dealt out discipline and then it was done. When they were younger Dad would sometimes throw stuff at them-mostly Leo and Donnie, to get them to stop fighting-but that stopped as they got older and learned to listen better. Now Leo’s thinking back on all of it and wondering how much of it was Dad’s chosen form of discipline and how much was just anger.

And Leo is far, far from a perfect son. He knows that, knows on some level that he deserved it a little.

But for fuck’s sake, all he did was smoke a little pot.

“I’m not ready to come back.” Leo wraps the second half of his cookie bar in his napkin. “If Dad wants to come and talk it out with me I’m cool with that, as long as I get a legitimate sorry in there. Once he does that I’ll consider coming home, I just…I can’t deal with him right now.”

“He’s having a hard time dealing too, Leo,” Mikey says.

“Sucks to be him. Maybe he shouldn’t have whipped me across the face.”

Mikey sighs. “I’ll tell him that. Will you just…think about what I said, please?”

Leo shrugs. “Sure.”

“I mean it.”

“I mean it too. I will. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

Mikey glances up. “I have to get back. Are you going to be working late?”

“Probably. It’s been super busy.” Leo stands up, stretching his arms as Mikey rounds the table to hug him.

“I’ll bring you dinner then. We’re having squash soup with those crackers you like. And Gemma is making these grilled cheeses with sliced apples in them, I’m skeptical but I’ll bring you a sandwich if they pass the Mikey test.”

“That sounds delish, super autumny. Now if only we can get some autumn temper-” 

Leo’s phone buzzes. He pulls it from his pouch, his stomach flopping over as he reads the screen.

“What’s up?” Mikey asks, sipping on his soda. “Is there an emergency? I can help you back up to the clinic.”

“No.” Leo shakes his head, turning the phone to show his brother the text. “I have to go to a meeting. With our fearless leaders.”

“So why move everyone into malls?”

He twists the dial on the side of his goggles to magnify the image. “Elaborate.”

‘We’re in New York,” Raphael says, his eyes glancing upwards as if checking to ensure New York City was still there. “I get that everyone who lives in the Bronx and Manhattan can’t really go home if they want to still be a part of Draxum’s thing, but that can’t be everyone. Why do people have to leave their apartments to go live in a mall?”

Galois pushes his goggles up and fixes Raphael with a look. “Why are a bunch of mutants living in an abandoned subway station in Manhattan?”

“,,,that’s different. It’s technically the police in charge over there, and they shoot anyone not human on sight.”

“Do you think they behave differently in my father’s territory? Our mercenaries face attacks from the NYPD every day, and they trot out the big guns for us. And we still get trouble from gangs and raiders.” Not nearly to the same extent as Manhattan, but enough to make people cautious about leaving the sanctuaries without protection. His father is having success in exerting control over the area, with much of the police in Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island having deserted or left the city. A few have even jumped ship to join them. He knows more have retreated to Manhattan to muster their forces, but he and his father were not too terribly concerned about that now. The gangs were even less of a threat-half the real gangs have been willing to negotiate with his father, and the other half were usually smart enough to know not to mess with them directly. The pitiful bands of larpers and deplorables that fancied themselves urban raiders, if they made themselves a problem they were never a problem for long. “Keeping everyone in a smaller area more easily securable, that makes everyone under our protection that much safer. Both from small-scale threats and larger ones.”

“I thought your shields protected this side of the East River.”

“They do. But no measure is absolute, and a concrete building done in the Brutalist style will hold up far better against a missile than One Court Square.” He presses his ruler down on the paper and draws his pencil along the side. “And then there is the question of utilities. Most buildings in New York are not getting city power. That means I have to provide that power. Which I have the means to do, but if I had to power every third apartment building in Brooklyn so it could operate at 20% capacity, my job would be quite difficult.”

“Is that what you’re doing there today? Setting up the power?”

“Among other things.” Galois flicks the part of the ruler that hangs over the edge of the table and listens to it jutter. “Each sanctuary gets its own localized defense system to both strengthen the overall shield and operate independently if the network goes down. There’s the installation of my workshops, which I don’t technically have to oversee but someone always manages to fuck something up if I don’t. Then there’s the parts my father has to sign off on, just bureaucracy stuff mostly. Finalizing the rules and supply routes, approve the infrastructure plans. Usually that just involves him giving a signature so they can proceed, but sometimes people try to sneak stuff by him.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, there was one Yokai who tried to give himself ruling authority and set the sanctuary up as his own little fiefdom. Now he’s doing hard labor.”

“But you’re not expecting anything like that today, right?”

“Oh, absolutely not, G1 is expected to be a cornerstone sanctuary. And what more, it’ll be the first sanctuary with mutants making up the directorate. Father heavily screened his selections and has been in conversation with them over these plans for weeks now, there will be no surprises.” Galois slides the ruler over and makes another line in the paper. “I don’t think these former humans have the wits or the guts to try and get one over my father, frankly.”

“I mean, he did pick them because they’re smart,” Cass says from a table over, scrolling on her phone.

“It’s my father.”

“My old masters nearly tricked him. If it wasn’t for me he would have put that armor on and let it drain him.”

“Is that what the dark armor was supposed to do?” Raphael asks. “Kill whoever’s stupid enough to put it on?”

“No, it wouldn’t of killed him. It was supposed to absorb his lifeforce and use it to bring the Shredder back to life.” Cass shrugs, lifting her hair over her shoulder. “Kill two birds with one stone, they remove a powerful potential enemy from the game and supply our master with a plethora of magical energy to utilize. And then the plan was to kidnap one of you turtles or the rat to sacrifice and complete the ritual.”

“You never told me about this, Cass.” Galois puts down his pencil.

“Wasn’t important, I guess.” She shrugs again. “It’s not going to happen now. Which wasn’t my goal, I just didn’t want it to be Draxum. But once your dad offered me a position with him I didn’t really have a reason to care anymore.”

“I mean…the Shredder was supposed to destroy the world.” Raphael glances at the floor.

“Maybe the world deserves it. Draxum’s plan is good, destroy everything that’s wrong with humanity and replace it with something better.”

“I don’t think humans are unredeemable.”

“Then you’re naive, Raphael,” Cass says bluntly.

Galois turns over the information in his head. He was aware of his father’s relationship with the Foot before his kidnapping, of course, but his father kept him away from his dealings. They shouldn’t have even known Galois had existed-Cass hadn’t known, not until the Foot had broken into his house and taken him captive.

Which was done in retaliation to Father breaking their partnership and stealing several pieces of the armor. If Cass had been the one to tell Father about the true nature of the armor, she probably felt responsible for his abduction.

Never mind that. Was this the true reason for Donatello’s captivity? Were they planning to sacrifice him to their evil demi-god? Part of him wants to latch onto that, that it wasn’t Galois’s fault, that Donatello was simply the Hamato that was easiest or they had the best opportunity to kidnap, that his resemblance to Galois was nothing more than a coincidence.

But the logical side of him-which is most of him-says that couldn’t be the reason. They wouldn’t let their underlings torture him nearly to death, they wouldn’t want to risk him succumbing before he could be sacrificed. And Father…his father would have told him if that were the case. He would have reassured Galois that Donatello’s presence in the same Foot compound Galois was being held in was merely a coincidence, that his kidnapping was entirely unrelated to Galois being their prisoner at the time. That it would have happened anyway.

He would have told Donatello’s family about it.

Raphael would have known. He didn’t.

So…why did the Foot kidnap his brother? Were they planning to use him in the sacrifice at all? Were they still planning to kidnap one of them to sacrifice? They can’t complete the armor, his father has five pieces of it hidden and locked away. They must be trying to locate them, but the only activity he’s heard from the Foot in the past year has been Bradford’s attempt on his life.

And if they wanted the armor pieces from Father, it made no sense to kill Galois.

Galois straightens up as the door opens.

“Galois, I’m sorry,” his father says loudly as he clops into the lab, Tigerclaw closing the door behind him. “But we’re going to have to postpone our mission this afternoon.”

“What?” Galois slides out of his seat. “But we’ve been going back and forth on this for three weeks!”

“I know.”

“But if we don’t get this done today, then they can’t move forward with anything we’ve talked about. They can’t start moving people in at the end of the week! We need G1 open, and-”

“I know. Believe me, I know. I’m sorry.” Father sighs, rubbing his temples. “But there is a… situation in Morris Heights that requires my presence. We can reschedule for later this week, I will see about sending some extra manpower to get G1 up and running on time.”

“We don’t have manpower to spare for construction work.” Galois thumbs through a few papers on the table. “We’d have to divert from other projects and risk those failing or falling behind. This is going to push back all my deadlines, mess up my entire schedule-you don’t have time to meet with them later this week, you’re completely booked.”

“I will figure it out,” Father says affirmatively. “I always do. We’ll meet later this week and will have G1 up and running at the latest by next weekend. We will just have to make do until then.”

“What in the world is going on in Morris Heights that’s so important-” Galois touches his forehead as he pages through the papers. “We’re not even set to move into that area until next year. What is going on?”

“Traag was insistent I was present for it.”

“Of course it’s Traag.” Galois rolls his eyes. “Can nobody handle their jobs on their own?”

“Believe me, I’ve thought the same. But this is my job.”

“So is-”

“I know. I don’t like it either, but Annalise will understand.”

“Why don’t I take Gale up to G1?” Cass says, leaning back in her chair. “We could-”

“Absolutely not.”

“You didn’t even hear what I was about to say.”

“I heard enough. Under no circumstances will I allow you two to go trapezing around undefended with half the NYPD and the blasted EPF after you.”

“No, Father, that’s a good idea.” Galois gestures in Cass’s direction. “Ananda and her core team are going to be there anyway, the entire site is already secure. Everyone in that building has already been cleared by you, Cass is more than capable of looking sufficiently intimidating while I work, and I am more than capable of signing off on the plans on your behalf.”

“No.” Father folds his arms. “You are not going to the surface without me there to protect you.”

Galois scoffs. “Father, I’m going to have to be seen without you. No one will respect me if I’m constantly clinging to your skirt, and they’ll respect you less if they think you can’t cut the apron strings.”

“That’s preferable to something happening to you.”

“Like what?” No, that’s a bad question to ask. “I mean, what could happen up there today that your presence would stop but Ananda and her team couldn’t handle?”

“If I may, sir,” Tigerclaw says. “The boy does have a point. People are talking about your protectiveness over him-”

“He’s my son, of course I’m protective of him!”

“-and the fact that almost no one has seen him face-to-face,” Tigerclaw finishes. “He’s right, if he is not seen soon then people will question why they’re risking their lives when you refuse to risk your son.”

“He’s more than just my son, if he’s killed then everything we have fought for will be for nothing!” Father wraps his arms around his midsection. “And if they can’t find it in themselves to understand a parent’s concern-”

“Many are parents themselves, sir. They’re concerned about their children as well.”

“My son is different.”

“Sorry,” Cass whispers across the table. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“It’s not your fault,” Galois says to her, then turns back towards his father. “And this would be a perfect opportunity to test Raphael’s-”

“No. I will conduct Raphael’s field observation on my own, he would not pass my tests right now.”

“What test?” comes Raphael’s voice.

“When are you going to do that?” Galois crosses his arms. “You’re booked for weeks. But if you start letting me go topside again, I can take over some of your administrative duties. So you don’t have to-”

“You have more than enough duties, Galois, I do not wish to ask more of you.”

“You’re not. I’m offering.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand. Don’t you trust me?”

Father blinks. “Of course I trust you, Galois. This isn’t-oh, child, I know you’re capable. But considering our history-”

“We’ve made plenty of visits to the surface that were entirely uneventful. If you consider the amount of trips we’ve made and weigh them against the number of incidents-” Galois blinks at the number on his gauntlet display. “Okay, so eleven percent is a tad high, but important to note that this calculation doesn’t factor in our rallies or my trips to the library, all but one of which I came home from completely unscathed, so the statistics imply that I am quite safe leaving the house.”

“It might be the best opportunity to have him seen,” Tigerclaw says. “Considering how secure the site and the company will be, I can’t think of better conditions for a trial run.”

“I just-I wanted to be available the first time we tried, just in case. I wanted to have plans.”

“You would have worked yourself up for days,” Galois says. “We’d never get there, you would get too nervous and cancel it.”

“That…well, you aren’t wrong, my boy.”

“I would rather keep the cubs down here as well,” Tigerclaw says. “But we can’t hide them forever. Perhaps not today, but later-”

“No, if we do this then it has to be today. G1 is expecting both Galois and myself in a few hours, I do not want anyone knowing Galois will be unaccompanied ahead of time.” Father presses his pointer finger to his temple, staring at Galois intently before turning his head towards Tigerclaw. “And you will go with him.”

“I-” Confusion passes over Tigerclaw’s face. “Gladly, but that leaves you undefended.”

“I have centuries of experience on Cassandra and Galois and I am used to working without a bodyguard. And even if that were not true, I would rather have you with them.”

“Father, I would rather you be protected,” Galois says. “There will be a team of mercenaries with me, this really isn’t necessary.”

“There will be mercenaries where I’m going too. If the mercenaries at G1 are enough to keep you safe, then the ones waiting for me in Morris Heights are capable of doing the same for me.”

“I could go with them,” Raphael says. “I’m totally cool with that, this could be my trial run-”

“I’ve already said no, Raphael.”

Raphael looks dejected for a moment, but then he perks back up. “Then maybe I could go with you? You know, I could watch your back over there so Tigerclaw can go with G and C to Queens without worrying about you. And maybe that could serve as my field test or whatever so I can accompany Galois next time.”

“That might…” Father puts his hand to his chin, but he shakes his head a moment later. “No. No, I don’t want you there with me today.”

“Are you sure? Because I totally don’t mind, I-”

“It wasn’t a bad offer, Raphael. It just isn’t ideal in these circumstances. We’ll conduct our field evaluation soon. No, with Huginn and Muninn on my shoulders I will not be caught unawares, I will be quite safe. I don’t-” Father’s eyes flick over his head. “You haven’t finished your armor yet, have you?”

“...No.” Galois shrinks in on himself. “I have the lower part done, but-”

Father sighs.

“I have my exoshell and I can wear a chestplate, it won’t be as good but it still provides plenty of protection.” Muninn hasn’t finished the embroidery on his sash anyway, he’d be heartbroken if Galois didn’t wear it the first time he took his armor out. It pulled the whole fit together.

“That will be heavier, are you sure you can move in that?”

“I can perform my duties in it. It would slow me down to fight or run, but-”

“If there’s trouble you will portal back. Straight back.”

“I was just about to say that, Father.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve had a breakthrough on the bypass portals.”

“No. But the security check would have identified any jammers, there will only be the basic dome shield preventing untethered portals into the mall. Only us and Ananda’s team have the key for the portal stamp.”

“Cassandra.” Cass perks up as Father turns his head towards her. “If I allow this-I’m not committing yet, if- you two will stick together like honey. Never more than a few feet apart, you will stay within reaching distance of each other.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“And you will stay within sight of Tigerclaw at all times.”

“Of course, Sensei.”

“Perhaps-no, I want Cassandra with you.” Father presses his finger to his lip, eyes far off and the tone of his voice indicating he’s talking to himself again. “The directorate of G1 will feel more comfortable with a human around-but most Yokai won’t take her seriously like this, they won’t see her as a threat. I can’t lose either of you. If-”

“Father, you’re spiraling again.”

“I’m thinking.” 

“I can wear my cool shoulder pads,” Cass says. “And I could stuff Gale’s platform boots and fit in those if you want me to look taller. I can totally look intimidating.”

“Or you could send me,” Raphael says again. “Anyone looking to cause trouble will take one look at me and-”

“No. You will remain home.”

“But your whole problem is that Casey isn’t a mutant.” Raphael holds his hand out in Cass’s direction. “I won’t even do anything, I promise, I’ll leave any actual bodyguarding to Tigerclaw and just look scary!”

“Let it go, Raphael. I will not change my mind.”

“Why not?! You changed your mind with-”

“Raphael,” Father snaps. “I said no.”

“But why?! I’ve passed all your other tests, you said you’re impressed with my training. I don’t get it, the only reason I’m here is to protect him, so why won’t you let me-”

“Because I don’t trust you.”

The lab goes so quiet Galois can hear the hum of the mini-fridge holding Father’s bio-samples. Raphael looks down, his eyes hardened and trained on his feet, his hands ground into fists. Father just continues to stare him down, silently.

Finally, Raphael turns away without a word. 

Father watches after him for a moment, but then he sighs and pulls his hair back from his shoulders as he looks down at Galois. “You really want to do this? You think this is a reasonable risk? A good use of your time?”

“Yes. I do, Father.”

Father sighs again. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. Just for today. I will allow it, but-”

He’s cut off as Galois throws his arms around him.

Father returns the hug warmly, holding him firm and rubbing the back of his shell before pulling away. “This isn’t a free pass forever, Galois, even if today goes perfectly I would still feel better if we didn’t repeat this. When Raphael is fully trained and Cassandra has adjusted to her mutated form then it may be different, but that won’t be for months at the very least.”

“I understand. Thank you, Father.”

“I don’t think I can deny you anything.” Father shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. Then he raises his arm and glances at his watch. “I have less than an hour before I need to meet Traag. You two, get your armor and weapons in order, I will check in before I go. Tigerclaw, walk with me, I want to go over a few things with you.”

“Of course, master.”

They turn towards the door. Galois catches Cass’s eye, shooting her an excited thumbs-up. Cass dances in place for a moment, grinning.

Leo shrinks in on himself, perched on a folding chair in between Angela and Josh, who both look out over the group like they’re about to eat one of them whole.

Their rudimentary leadership, which Mikey’s friends have taken to calling an HOA, consists of four humans, five mutants, and two Yokai. And not a single person under the age of forty-five. Not only is the ratio not representative of their shelter’s demographics, but none of them can get along with one other person in the group. 

Not even the two Yokai like each other. Josh has referred to it as ‘eleven horses trying to pull the cart in eleven different directions,’ which Leo thinks sums it up nicely.

“Now that we’re all seated,” Ms. Dietrich says, looking to them as if it was their fault they had to scrounge up two extra chairs. Or maybe she was just angered by the presence of witches and their refusal to leave him, even though they were told multiple times that their presence wasn’t necessary. (“Tough,” Angela had replied. “He’s my apprentice. You either deal with me or his father.”)

“We’ll get this over with so the good doctors can get back to work,” says Mr. Henderson, who worked in construction before he turned into a pigeon, but not on the side that actually constructed anything. “We have a simple favor to ask of Leonardo.”

“Leo’s sixteen, what the hell do you need his help with?” Angela says bluntly. A little harsh, Leo thinks. He’s helping her out. She’s-well, she’s not paying him, but apprentices don’t usually get paid anyway. Not that he’s an official apprentice either, but still.

“It’s actually very simple,” Cheryl Poffenberger says, her eyes very pointedly pinned at a point behind Leo even as she smiles warmly in his direction. She’s probably the nicest of the bunch, even if her wolfish grins make her look like she’s about to eat him. “It should only take the afternoon.”

“I need him in the afternoon.”

“You can’t go a few hours without him playing receptionist?”

“I could. I’m not going to, if your favor is as stupid as your pitch is.”

“What do you want him to do?” Josh asks in a tone that’s not really a question, his arms crossed over his chest.

Dr. Luettgen, who insists on being called a doctor despite being a chiropractor and doesn’t have a degree, claps his hands. “We have gotten in contact with another safehouse,” he says. “To the north. They are well physically and have food and shelter, but the area has grown quite dangerous.They have requested to join our colony.”

“And can we support them?” Josh asks.

“No.” Ms. Dietrich rubs her eyes. She’s okay, if not particularly nice or pleasant. Leo isn’t sure what her qualifications for being on this council are. “I mean, we shouldn’t take them in, we’ll have trouble enough feeding our own people soon. We don’t have the space or the resources to be taking in strays.”

“They’re not strays, they’re staying at a Yokai-hosted safehouse,” Clantress argues. “They simply weren’t lucky enough to end up in ours.”

“And every group we reject is another group that might go over to Draxum’s,” Gnovan adds.

“Why do you need me?” Leo asks.

People look to him then, like they already forgot he was here. “Well, there’s a wrinkle in the evacuation plan that we have not been able to solve,” Dr. Luettgen says. “The safehouse is located in River Park Towers, high into the Bronx.”

“Over the river.” Leo nods stiffly.

“Yes, so you see our problem. Every bridge between Manhattan and the Bronx is held by the NYPD, so there’s no way to cross. Unless you crossed over to Randalls and entered from there, but Randalls is firmly under Draxum’s control now.”

“As you know, creating a portal between this station and Witch Town was a taxing endeavor,” Clantress says. “And it was only possible with a witch on this side casting the spell in tandem. The safehouse is actually owned by a cousin of mine, and he is not a magic user. To establish a portal we’d need to get someone over there, not to speak of the security issues with forming a portal in such an insecure location.”

“We’ve discussed using a ferry,” Father James says. He’s alright, as far as priests go. “But it’s too dangerous. The NYPD is shooting nonhumans on sight and they’d have clear visibility of anyone on the water.”

“You’d only have to cross the Harlem,” Angela says, crossing her legs. “The Harlem isn’t that wide. Or deep.”

“Some of these people can’t swim. And they’d still-”

“What could Leo possibly do for that?”

“It’s our understanding that Leo is a portalsmith,” Clantress says. “Even with the barrier spell in place, he’s still capable of making portals.”

Leo shakes his head. “It’s not me, it’s the sword. Anyone could use it.”

“Anyone could not. The sword is a conduit, not an enchanted item. It’s still drawing on your magic to work, even if the actual focal point is in the sword itself.”

“Okay. My dad’s used it, and two of my brothers. You guys are free to borrow it.”

“They don’t have the experience you do, Michelangelo nearly passed out after using it last July and your father is…unreliable.”

Translation: Dad’s off staring into space again.

“We would like to ask you to accompany our team to the safehouse, Leonardo,” Dr. Luettgen says gently.

“Absolutely not.” Josh folds his arms. “Leo’s scans show his patellar and cruciate ligaments have yet to fully regenerate, and there’s still inflammation in his infrapatellar. He can’t walk across the entire damn city.”

“That’s what the portal is for,” Mr. Henderson says, but Clantress shakes her head.

“He’s not going to be able to portal straight there, he’d exhaust himself and then they’d all be stranded. We just need him to portal across the river and back.”

“We have the passenger van Nicholas offered up,” Mrs. Poffenberger points out. “Not everyone will fit on the way back, but I don’t think anyone will object to Leo getting a seat.”

Leo has no idea who Nicholas is.

“That’s a great way to get them carjacked,” Ms. Dietrich replies. “Everyone who hears that engine will be trying to rob them.”

“Let them try, they’ll run away as soon as they see it’s all freaks inside.”

“Or they’ll just shoot them all.”

“Which is why Leo won’t be going,” Angela cuts in. “This is far too dangerous, he’s still a minor-”

“I’m sixteen,” Leo says. “I want to help. If my portals are the only way-”

“Oh please, they can find someone else who can make portals.”

“We’ve been trying,” Dr. Luettgen says. “None of your Yoo-kai have been able to make a stable one under the barrier.”

“I’m okay with this Angela, seriously,” Leo tells her, then turns back to the group. “How many people are at this safehouse?”

“Two dozen or so. Give or take a few.”

“So twenty people, one of me. I can deal with some knee pain if it saves lives.”

“You need to put yourself first sometimes, Leo,” Josh says in a low voice. “You can’t keep helping people if you get shot out there.”

“I won’t get shot. Ninja, remember? And I have literal built-in body armor.”

“What’s the security going to be like?” Angela asks. “He’s not going alone.”

“Of course not, we were going to send him with a group made up of volunteers from the scavengers and security,” says Mr. Henderson. “A small group, so they can move fast and not draw too much attention to themselves.”

Angela turns and looks at Josh over Leo’s head. “Any ideas? Could we send any of our Nexus fighters with them?”

“Bella’s fucking passed out right now, she’s worse than useless. I’d send my brother but he has covid. Leo, I know you’re fighting with your dad right now-”

“Lou Jitsu is not available right now,” Dr. Luettgen says. “We checked.”

“...I see.” Josh readjusts his glasses. “Fine, but I want Chosovi Lomatewama on the team. He doesn’t leave Leo’s side.”

“If Leo wants to, I can’t exactly stop him,” Angela says. “Well, I could, but I think he’s mature enough to make that decision.”

“Appreciate it,” Leo says through a cheeky smile. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

“You better. If anything happens to you, your father isn’t going to care that I warned you against it.”

“You heard what they said, he’s too busy in la la land right now to care.”

Angela’s eyes flick him up and down. “Trust me, Leo. He’d kill me.”

Galois turns to the side, looking at his figure in the reflection of his powered-down monitor.

“You look fancy,” Raphael says. “Is that one of those pinafores you like so much?”

“No. I mean, technically?” He shrugs. “I guess it’s more of a jumper than an apron, but I don’t think pinafores can be leather.”

“It doesn’t look like much protection.”

“I’m wearing a bulletproof vest underneath and my shirt and pants both have ballistic weave. And thick leather like this is very good armor.” He turns to look at his other side. “It makes me look way too skinny.”

“Well, you are skinny, man. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’ve been steadily gaining a pound to a pound and a half each week, I’m a lot better than I was.” He presses his hands against his stomach. “I don’t have a bulkier vest.”

The dress was intended to be worn with a ballistic cloak, which was why it’s sleeveless. But it’s 31 degrees celsius outside and G1 does not have air conditioning set up yet. And Galois isn’t quite ready to put a fastener that close to his throat.

“You look fine, dude. Put on a big jacket like you’re sneaking snacks into a movie theater.”

“I’ve never been in a movie theater.” He doesn’t think he has, at least. But it seems familiar. Maybe his father took him to one a long time ago? It would have been a risk, taking Galois out in public like that, but he knows his father did bend the rules occasionally when he was younger to give him some semblance of a normal childhood. As normal as his life could be, anyway.  “And it’s hot as hell up top, the long sleeves on my shirt are going to be brutal enough.”

“Is it? I thought it’d be cooler. It’s almost October.”

“Almost like climate change is real.”

“You know more about that than me. Oh, anyway-” Raphael pulls his mask tassels over his shoulder. “I got your stuff ready to go! At least I’m pretty sure this is all you’ll need.”

“You got my tools?” Galois approaches the table, eyes scanning over the equipment and folders neatly laid out.

“Yeah, I know what you usually take along.” Raphael rubs the back of his neck. “And I pulled all the files I thought you’d wanna bring, just-like the security plans, you usually always bring those, but just the ones for G1. The others are still filed away, I didn’t touch ‘em.”

“No, you have pretty much everything I needed, thank you.” Galois grabs the leather satchel from his desk and begins loading files and tools in. He hadn’t realized Raphael had paid such close attention to his work. He hadn’t realized that Raphael was capable of understanding his work well enough to be able to predict which files he’d need. “Oh, but I’ll need the documents Father was to bring along, hold on.”

Raphael follows him like a nervous duckling out of the lab. Galois runs up the stairs, hand on the railing to pace himself. His stamina still isn’t great. He can gauge how much energy and strength he has left much better now, but he still tires more easily than he did before. He does not intend to shuffle around G1 with his staff because he’s too exhausted to hold himself up.

“Father!” Galois stomps up the last few stairs. “Father, I’ll need-” He pushes open the door to Father’s bedroom. “Oh, he’s not here.”

“Did he leave already?” Raphael asks as he climbs the last stair.

“No, he wouldn’t have left without lecturing me one more time.” Galois knocks on the door to his father’s study. “Father? Are you in there?”

No answer. Galois just shrugs and opens the door. He knows where his father keeps the files he’s looking for anyway.

“What are you doing?!” Raphael hovers in front of the doorway.

“Getting the papers I’ll need?”

“Are you even allowed in here?”

“This is my house,” Galois says slowly. “Why would I not be allowed somewhere in my own home?”

“I mean-Draxum doesn’t mind you being in his office without him?”

“I’m sure he’d mind if I came up here for the express purpose of snooping, but I’m not.” There, the leather-bound folder is still sitting on his desk. “There is nowhere in my house I’m not allowed, Raphael. This is my home.”

“What about the armory?”

“I have full access to that too. I’m not a toddler, my father trusts me not to play with weapons.”

Raphael’s shoulders relax, but only slightly. “What about that safe there?”

“Code’s probably my birthday, most of them are.” Galois tucks the folder under his arm. “It’s just documents and the like, his will and my mutation certificate are both in there. Legal nonsense. Actually, I probably should ask him what the code is, in case something…just in case. You know.”

Raphael’s eyes scan over the room. “So how many degrees does Draxum have?” he asks casually as Galois rounds the desk.

Galois shrugs. “Like, thirty something? Those up on the wall aren’t all degrees, some of them are certificates or awards.”

“How long did it take him to earn all those?”

“Centuries. Some of them are absolutely outdated and useless by now, but he says he earned them so he has a right to display them.” Galois shuts the door behind them.

“I mean. Can’t argue with that.”

Cass is already in the lab by the time they return, doing her pre-mission weapons check with her gun laid out on the table in front of her partially disassembled. She doesn’t notice them coming in, but she snaps to attention when Raphael whistles.

“Man, that is some armor!”

Cass turns around with a big grin, raises her arms and strikes a pose.

“Oh yeah, work it!” Galois yells as she sticks out her hip. “Like a star, darling!”

“You’re such a goddamn dork.” She’s still grinning though.

“Seriously, I love the shoulderpads!” Raphael shifts excitedly from foot to foot. “It’s like Rose Rison in Jupiter Jim: Stars of Saturn!”

“I was going for more Samus Aran which, fun fact, was the inspiration for Rose’s costume.” Galois lays the leather-bound folder next to his others. “Though the color scheme was more Diania from the Moons of Mercury plotline and that one unfortunate Neptune spinoff.”

“We don’t talk about the Neptune movie. Even Moncrief said that one didn’t happen.”

“When did you become an expert on Jupiter Jim?” Cass looks him up and down. “I knew you were a nerd, but I didn’t realize-”

“Uh, excuse you.” Raphael reaches out to poke her in the shoulder. “Jupiter Jim is the greatest film franchise to ever exist.”

“They’re like, the epitome of eighties cheese and nineties budget sci-fi. I only know what it is because my dad used to watch them all the time.”

“There’s a new JJ movie like every year. We are still alive and kickin’.”

“No Jupiter Jim film has been made for theatrical release since 1998,” Galois says. “That’s when the original studio dissolved and sold the rights to the franchise, and the new studio considered Jupiter Jim to be too expensive to produce and relegated them to straight-to-video status. This also played into Moncrief retiring from the role in 2005, initiating a notably downward trend in film quality. Ironically, the reason the original studio went under was the disappearance of Lou Jitsu and the cessation of his movies.”

“Wait, seriously?” Raphael turns his head towards him. “But Lou Jitsu movies got huge after he went missing!”

“Yes, because a different studio bought the rights to the Lou Jitsu franchise and very cleverly used his disappearance to advertise re-releases and other merchandise.”

“Seriously, where did you learn all this?” Cass asks. “I didn’t think you were into camp sci-fi. And your dad banned Lou Jitsu movies.”

“I’ve seen them. It’s just been a while.”

“JJ is the family favorite in my house,” Raphael says excitedly. “We had a space helmet we took turns wearing and my brother liked to perform all the musical numbers.”

“You guys are nerds,” Cass says.

“Don’t you like Doctor Who?”

“...That has nothing to do with this.”

The lab door opens, and all three of them instantly straighten up. Father steps it, his armor on sans his helmet and gauntlets and-

The voulge. One of the mystic weapons Father was given by the Council of Heads. Clutched in Father’s hand, holding it just off the lab floor as he walked.The only weapon that wasn’t stolen by the turtles.

They had the tonfā back now obviously, since Raphael brought them with him and Father confiscated them, but the sword and kusari-fundo were still with his brothers. Galois had his hands on the sword once, months ago, but he left it behind because he was trying to get away from them-and in his addled mind, he didn’t want to give them more reason to come after him.

Galois has asked his father several times if he wanted to reclaim the weapons, but he seemed unconcerned about legendary weapons in the hands of their enemies. He wasn’t supposed to have the weapons anyway, he’d remind Galois, not anymore. They didn’t have a use for them, Father preferred his gauntlets and magic and Galois preferred the things he built himself. Anyway, the turtles didn’t know how to use them, not really. 

And, as Father had pointed out repeatedly, Galois was missing when they were stolen. He had more important things to search for.

Did Father need the voulge for whatever he was doing today? Galois supposes it would project an air of intimidation, would certainly give him legitimacy. But why now?

“Are you two prepared?” Father asks tiredly.

Galois opens his satchel again and resumes packing up equipment and files. “Just about.”

“Give me ten, I was just starting my weapons check.”

“Tigerclaw is performing a preliminary sweep at G1, he will portal back for the two of you once he’s finished. You have time.”

“Great.” Galois holds up the leather-bound file. “I took the contracts from your office, by the way.”

“Oh, I had forgotten about those. You’re wonderful.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Cassandra.” Father’s hooves clack across the floor.

Cass pushes herself out of her chair, standing up straight as Father approaches. “Sensei.”

“Why do you still insist on calling me that?” Father says with a smile in his voice.

“Just…habit. Sorry.”

“I don’t mind, child. But I told you when we started this that we would be on more equal footing than you were with your old masters. I greatly value your insight, Cassandra.”

“I-yeah, I guess this was my idea. I mean, Gale had the good arguments, but I did start it.”

“You did, and you made a good point. I want you to know that I am immensely proud of you, the work you’ve done and the person you’ve become.” Father shifts then, turning the voulge parallel to the ground and holding it out in front of him. “Which is why I want you to carry this while you protect my son.”

Cass blinks. Her eyes go from the voulge to Father’s face, over and over again.

“Draxum,” she starts to say, but she says nothing after that.

“Cassandra.”

“I…isn’t that for Gale? I mean, you were saving it to give to him, right?”

“My intention was for him to pick amongst the mystical weapons in my possession, yes, but Galois much prefers his staff and technology. He has stated that he does not want it.”

“Go for it, Cass,” Galois mock-whispers.

Cass takes the voulge reverently, her eyes wide as she feels its weight.

“I cannot mutate you yet,” Father says. “Soon, I promise. But the Yokai will respect you more if they see you carrying this. And I believe you-”

Father is cut off suddenly as Cass throws her arms around him.

“Careful, careful!” But Father returns the embrace all the same.

“M’being careful,” Cass says softly. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. You’ve earned this.”

Cass runs her hand up and down the staff after she pulls away, her eyes sparkling as she looks over the blade and flail.

“You aren’t going to be able to tap into its mystical abilities,” Father says. “Not unless you develop your own power during mutation. It’s not simply enchanted, it requires innate ability to draw from. But it’s stronger than a conventional weapon. And everyone else doesn’t need to know that you can’t use it to its full extent.”

“It’s perfect.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Father raises his hands to her head then, pulling out the sloppy topknot she’s done her hair in. “I know the extent of your abilities, so I don’t need to tell you how to hold it.” He runs his fingers through her hair, slipping her hair tie over his wrist as he separates the strands with his fingers and begins braiding them back together.

“We’ll look like total badasses. We’ll strike fear in the hearts of our enemies, I promise.”

“I just want you two to watch out for one another. I know I’m acting paranoid, but it…it makes me feel better, knowing you’ll be with Galois. I know I worry too much.”

“You’re just old.”

“Quiet, you,” Father says, earning a laugh from Cass. Her braid just brushes her shoulder as Father ties it off. “That’s better.”

“Thanks. I don’t know how you deal with your hair, I have like a quarter that amount and I can barely handle it.”

“You’ll get used to it. It gets heavier as it gets longer as well, I find it more manageable that way.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you, sir?” Raphael asks in a small voice. “I won’t say a word, I promise.”

“I am quite sure, child.” Father pulls his hands away from Cass’s head. “I will not argue with you about this anymore. My answer is no.”

“I-okay. Sorry. I just-”

“Not now, Raphael. We will talk later.”

The lab doors open again.

“Ohhhhhh, Casey’s got her torture stick!” Huginn’s excited voice rings out.

“I told you he was gonna give it to her!”

“Come over here, Case, let’s see the goods!”

“Oooh, strike a pose first, I need a picture of your new armor for the album. Yeah, that is the perfect accessory.”

Cass laughs and walks over to where Huginn and Muninn have perched, excitedly talking a mile a minute.

Galois’s father approaches him. Something with the light and his armor makes the wrinkles at his cheeks and under his eyes more apparent, makes him look so much older. More tired. “Are you sure you’re alright with this?” Father asks. “I can reschedule my obligations for tomorrow. We can make this work.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it. I’m almost sixteen, I can handle a few hours of work without clinging to my father’s skirts.”

“You’re growing up too fast. You used to be so little you could sit in the palm of my hand, and no part of you would hang over the edge.” Father reaches up and presses his palm to Galois’s cheek. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise, Father. I’m just doing some mechanical work, it’s about as risk-free as you can get.”

“I know. But still, there are risks.” Father’s thumb rubs over his cheekbone. “Do you have any idea how precious you are to me?”

“You’ve mentioned it. Once or twice.”

“Words cannot encompass what you mean to me. I just-” Father sighs, raising his other hand to Galois’s shoulder. “If I lost you, all this would be for nothing. The world could end for all I care. I won’t do it, Galois. I can’t do it.”

“I’ll be okay, Father. I’ll text you when we’re back home.”

“I know you will.” Father sighs again. “Okay.”

He draws Galois close, pressing their foreheads together and just holding him for a moment. Then Father stands up straight, holds Galois tightly to his chest, and presses a soft kiss to the top of his forehead.

“Be safe. I will see you soon.”

“You got everything you need there?” Roselynn’s eyes flick him up and down. “Leo?”

“I have pants and shoes on, what more do you want?”

“You don’t wear shirts that much, do you?”

“I mean, would you if you were me?”

Roselynn shrugs. “Point taken.”

A hand slams into the back of his shell. “And we finally get to see The Leo in action!” Luis raises his other fist as he slaps Leo’s shell again. “Show those cops the what for!”

“No, we’re avoiding the cops,” Roselynn says. “It’s the same deal with the scav runs, we keep our heads down and stay away from trouble.”

“We don’t go on scav runs,” Daniel says, coming up besides Luis. “We never get picked for babysitter duty.”

“David says we’re too loud,” Luis adds.

“Well, you better shut your fucking trap out there, or you’ll be the first I shove into the river. And anyway, Leo’s still got that thing in his knee, he’s taking a backseat to any fighting that happens.”

“Sad but true. Angela is terrifying to behold and I don’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath when I immediately break my knee again.” He even has the big metal brace on, the one that forces him to walk with his legs slightly farther apart than he’s used to and clicks with every step. He’ll be grateful for it tomorrow when he can physically bend his knee without screaming in pain, but what a bother.

“There you are.” Chosovi appears beside him like some foxy desert mirage, tipping his cowboy hat in Roselynn’s direction in a way only Cho could pull off without looking like an incel. “Got something for you.”

And Cho hands him his sword. Leo’s fingers close around the hilt, rubs his thumb over the familiar blue wrappings. He pulls it a few inches free of the scabbard, watching the light bounce off the surface.

It feels so good to have it in his hand again.

“Oh, hey Cho,” Roselynn says. “Heard the hubby’s got covid.”

“Yeah, but he’s doing fine. He’s just quarantining so he doesn’t spread it around. Got his e-reader and plenty of elm tea to drink, I’m not worried.”

“That’s good. At least like this we all seem pretty resilient. The humans are dealing with breakouts everywhere.”

“Yeah, it’s only killed a few people down in the Hidden City, but we also quarantined right away. Anywho, who’s taking point for this trip?” Cho looks around the hallway.

“Dunno. It’s pretty last minute, we didn’t have time to assign one.”

“David taking this himself, maybe?”

“Doubt it, he was leading a scav run that went out on Friday and just got back at like two AM last night.”

Cho sucks in breath through his teeth. “Everyone okay?”

“Oh yeah, they were being dumbasses and tried going into Midtown, they got held up because they were hiding from the police. But anyway, they’re all passed out right now.” She looks to the subway entrance. “Shit, it better not be me.”

“I’d offer, but I’m Leo’s bodyguard today.” Cho nudges him in the shoulder. “Not that he needs it, but best not to split priorities.”

“Oh, totally, watch the kid’s back.” She glances around the hallway. “I don’t think these security guys would listen to you anyway.”

“Why not?” Leo asks. “Cho’s cool.”

“The scavvers are used to Cho,” Roselynn replies. “And a few other Yokai. Security is all mutants.”

“Yeah. And?”

His train of thought is interrupted by Gill crawling on top of the card table and clapping his hands.

“Alright, fuckers, listen up!” He cups his hands to get the intended sound effect, and the hall falls silent. “We have a very simple mission today! Head up the Harlem and play escort duty with a bunch of losers, nothing major. We will have to cross the river though, so for that reason we’re bringing Leo.” Gill holds his hand out in Leo’s direction, and Leo nods at the smattering of applause that follows. “Leo will make a portal once we get close to River Park, so we won’t have to use the bridges. He’s still not cleared for fighting, and we’re screwed without his portals so our priority is getting him there and back in one piece. If the threat of being stranded in the Bronx isn’t enough, Mrs. O’Neil will murder every one of us if anything happens to him. And I, for one, am terrified of that woman, so please don’t make me explain to her how he got hurt on my watch.”

A titter ripples through the group.

Gill holds up his fingers. “We are going up Broadway! We are taking a right on 145! We are not turning at 155, there is a checkpoint at the junction between 155th and St. Nicholas, and those assholes will shoot us on sight. Why? Because they’re dicks, that’s why.” He turns to the map behind him and uncaps the expo marker in his hand. “We will take 145 to here. Then we will turn here and here and here, and then we’ll cut through the tennis court to get to River Drive. From there we can sneak under the bridges until we’re in sight of River Park. Yes, we might have been able to use the High Bridge. I don’t want to hear it, we don’t know for sure if the other side is safe. We get the refugees, we take the same route in reverse, we get home and the UN declares global peace forever. Understood? I don’t want any goddamn surprises. Now everyone check your shit and take your potty breaks. Leo, come here a sec, I want to go over a few things with you.”

Leo bounds up to the impromptu stage, thumbs stuck in his pocket. “What’s up, Gilligan?”

“It’s Giles, you know.”

“You call me Leonard, I get to misappropriate your name back.”

“Fair enough.” Gill squats down and lowers himself off the table. He’s a fishman mutant, which was apparently the butt of many jokes when they first got here until everyone got bored of it. Statistically speaking, someone here had to have an ironic mutation. “You went on scouting runs back when you were living at that pizza shop, right?”

“At Hueso’s, yeah. We were looking for a place to-you know, do this. And looting whatever might be useful, we did that too.”

“Hey, it’s not looting, it’s scavenging.” Gill glances around real quick before leaning in. “But seriously, don’t call it that. Bad for morale. If it’s commercial property and there’s no one there then it’s fair game, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Not disagreeing. Long as we’re not stealing from people who need it.”

“But anyway, you’ve been up top since the blockade began, so obviously I don’t need to tell you to not to attract attention or keep an eye on your surroundings. We do have to be a little more careful with those people from the government here, but I’ve never seen them west of Central Park. They might be north of it, but where we’re turning should be far north enough not to matter. But if you see some people in suits or camo, just run. They won’t chase you down like the police will, but they’ll absolutely shoot if they get spooked.”

“Understood.”

“We’re going to be taking Broadway for most of this,” Gill says, pressing his webbed pointer finger to the map. “Broadway is actually really damn safe right now. We’re on Broadway, and Columbia’s on Broadway. Maybe you don’t know this, but we’re in pretty tight with everyone holed up in Columbia. And then there’s the City College a block over, and there’s a bunch of people taking shelter at this octagon building over here. Between all of us, the road gets frequented a lot and there’s not much trouble. So it should be pretty safe for like two-thirds of the way there, but be careful anyway.”

“Shut my mouth and keep moving, got it.”

“These blue points, those are places we’ve found that are safe to lay low in for a bit. Usually basements and stuff, we don’t mark it because we don’t want anyone figuring out a pattern, but we looked for places that would be easy to find.”

“For anyone looking for you too.”

“Yeah, if they knew they were looking for something.” Gill grins. “These are for avoiding trouble, not making a grand stand. If you’re caught out after dark or you can’t find a path back that’s not crawling with cops, you can duck in one of these and wait a few hours. I mean, I guess it would be better than getting shot in the streets, but if someone is actually after you then get back to the station. Or Columbia. Try not to go to the City College though, they tolerate us but they don’t like us. Unless you’re on death’s doorstep they’re just going to tell you to go away.” Gill taps his finger against his chin. “What else. If your knee is bothering you and you need to take a break just say so, we should be back with daylight to spare. We can always try again too, it’s not the end of the world if we have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Okay. I understand.”

“This is a small group and we should be staying pretty tight, so none of this should matter today. But just in case. I mean it, your aunt scares me. My blood will be on your hands if you die stupidly out there.”

Well, he supposes that’s better than everyone assuming Mrs. O’Neil is his mother.

“Okay losers, time to move out!” Gill waves his hands to gather everyone together again. “ If you get separated from the group, head back here or to Columbia and sit tight. Let’s get this done quick and clean, this was supposed to be my night off and I am determined to have my date with the missus.”