.⁠*｡ﾟ♡𝓚𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪♡☆.⁠*｡ﾟ

“April?” June calls for her attention, even though she’s perched between two abnormally large turtles. “Are you alright?” She places a hand on April’s arm and gives her a small squeeze. 

“Why are we still here playing doctor?” a grumbling voice mutters behind them—uninterested. June already knows the owner of it as she gives the red-masked turtle a hard glare over her shoulder. His eyes meet June, but they're softer than previously that it contradicts his tone. She resists a reaction from his unexpected gaze.

The blue-masked turtle interjects before June can speak. “She may have a head injury,” he clarifies, motioning to April. The red-masked brute paces boredly—his response is a lazy grunt. 

“Uh, correction,” the orange-masked turtle says with a raised finger, “she’s a hot chick who may have a head injury, which makes it our civic duty…”

“Shut it,” June cuts him off with a scowl. The blue-masked turtle chuckles beside her, and June faintly hears the same noise from another turtle. But she doubts he’d admit to it. 

“Ma’am? Ma’am! Can you hear me?” the purple-masked turtle begins to snap his finger in April’s face. The focus is back on them. “Do you know what city you’re in? Do you know where you are?” he asks as April blinks her eyes open. 

The orange-masked turtle stands over June. “Have you seen the video where the cat plays Chopsticks with the chopsticks?” June unintentionally snorts at his question.

“Can we focus here?” The blue-masked turtle barks as shoves his partner away by the face. He turns back to April and holds her shoulder.

She squints at the harsh light. June notices, and elbows the purple-masked turtle. “Turn off the flashlight!” she rushes him.

“Oh right,” he says and scrambles with the switch. The light flicks off, and April’s vision starts to clear.

“Hey, sis,” June waves. “Glad you’re awake,” she smiles at her, comfortingly. But it doesn’t hide the four stalking turtles situated around her.

April’s eyes roam the appalling sight in front of her. She hesitates to move, staring up in disbelief. Her voice is hoarse as she asks, “Are you okay, Juno?” She searches for June’s hand.

“Me?” June exclaims, linking their fingers together. “You’re the one that passed out. Are you okay?”

April sniffles a pained laugh. “Yeah, I’m good.”

The rooftop is quiet for a moment. April finds her eyes skimming the turtles again. Her expression turns skeptical, and the purple-masked turtle realizes it first. He starts to back away, dragging his blue partner with him. 

“Guys, please. Give her some air,” he tells them. June looks at him, thankful.

April tentatively sits up, switching her eyes between June’s unbothered state and the curious turtles watching her back. 

“What are you?” April blurts without thought. June moves to crouch beside her, holding her arm.

The blue-masked turtle looks back at his partners, then at April. “Well, miss, uh… we’re ninjas.” He holds his fist with his other hand as he bows his head. 

“We’re mutants,” the red-masked turtle spits over the two sisters. He watches for their reaction to his statement but June doesn’t give him one to analyze.

The purple-masked turtle, still wearing his tech goggles, adds, “Well, technically, we’re turtles.” 

“Oh, and we’re teenages,” the orange-masked turtle beams. He grows a sly smirk, “but we can still have adult conversations.”

June and April share a look, trying to wrap their heads around the information given. June has had a little more time to do so, but April still needs to blink her eyes closed for a moment to process.

“Wait, wait,” she mumbles, using June’s help to stand up properly. The turtles take another step back to give them room. “So, you’re ninja… mutant… turtle… teenagers?” she drags out each word, looking at the turtle who spoke it.

“Really?” June quips with a lift of her eyebrow. “Ninja mutant turtle teenagers?”

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous,” the purple-masked turtle comments, offended, throwing a hand up. 

The long second stretches on the rooftop while everyone simply stares. April flicks her eyes to each turtle, giving them her own scan while June can only find her gaze seeking a certain red-masked turtle crouching on a HVAC unit in the back. 

He narrows his eyes at June, snarling under his breath. Her lingering stare was uncomfortably drawn-out, filled with thoughts he couldn’t read. And it crawled under his skin. “See, she’s looking at us like we’re freaks!” he accuses, pointing solely at June. 

She flinches at the distaste in his tone. “Me?” She gasps, before arguing back, “No, I’m not.”

“You clearly are,” he bites.

“I’m—you’ve been looking at me the same way!” June takes a step forward, beside April. “You haven’t stopped glaring at me this whole time. If you got something to say to me, then say it!”

The red-masked turtle is at a halt for words. The tension on the rooftop is palpable as the others watch the interaction, bewildered. 

June crosses her arms, flustered under all the eyes on her. “Whatever,” she mutters.

April places a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “We didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“Oh, really? Like we believe that.” the red-masked turtle scoffs—riled up again. June only watches him as he speaks to April. “I bet that’s why you took our picture, wasn’t it? To show your friends?”

April shakes her head as the large turtle jumps down from the unit to showcase his true height. 

“Bro, that’s a good thing!” The orange-masked turtle gushes with his arms out as the red turtle strolls closer to the sisters—his footsteps are intimidatingly heavy. “Maybe they have hot friends!”

The red-masked turtle pulls out April’s phone and waves it tauntingly in their faces. “Looking for this?” He grows a wicked smile. June frowns at him, lifting her chin as he towers over them.

“Don’t break it,” April begs, bracing her hands out. The red-masked turtle continues to wave the small object in his oversized hand. He raises it higher in the air. “No, no, no.” April’s breath starts to panic again.

The phone is swiftly snatched out of the red-masked turtle’s hand by the blue. He rolls his eyes as he scolds his partner, “How many times do I have to tell you? We don’t break things, we fix them.” April lets out an exhale in relief.

The red-masked turtle avoids eye contact as the blue gets in his face. He parents him like a child. “Donnie already wiped the phone, genius,” his voice drops to a gentle whisper. “Problem solved. Moving on.” The phone is handed back to April with an apologetic bow. 

June cracks a smile at the red-masked turtle’s flushed expression as he casts his eyes down. She could see the green scales on his cheek tint a lighter color. She bites her bottom lip to restrain a giggle.

The red-masked turtle notices June’s amused look in the corner of his eye. His jaw ticks, once embarrassed now agitated.

His broad shoulders visibly tense. He whips his head away from June to the blue-masked turtle, pressing into his space. He shoves harshly at his shoulder to challenge, “And who put you in charge?”

“You know who did,” the blue-masked turtle retorts just as fast, whispering in his partner’s face.

The orange-masked turtle jumps on top of the HVAC unit to become the tallest. “Oooh, tension,” he interrupts to taunt them. “It’s been like thirty whole minutes since you guys had this argument.”

The purple-masked turtle walks between the red and the blue, closing his hologram watch on his wrist. His tech goggles have left his eyes to sit on his forehead. He wears a pair of glasses instead. “Leonardo, if we want to make it home before Master, we gotta hustle,” he warns the blue-masked turtle with an uneasy tone to his voice.

April’s face scrunches in confusion. “Leonardo?” she mumbles under her panting breath. June looks over at her, questioning if she spoke. 

There is a silent exchange between the red and blue-masked turtles. They come to a temporary agreement before turning to the sisters with hard frowns on their faces. It startles April to take a cautious step back, dragging June with her, as the large figures stalk menacingly closer.

The blue-masked turtle uses the handle side of his sword to point at them as he leans down to their level. “Do not say a word about this to anyone. If you do, we will find you,” he declares, his voice dropping an octave. “April and June O’Neil.” 

“Is that a threat?” June blurts. Her hand falls to her hip, insulted. April darts her eyes to her sister, shocked she spoke back. The blue-masked turtle tilts his head slightly. “I let you delete the picture from her phone. Obviously, we don’t want any more trouble.”

“You didn’t let us do anything,” the red-masked turtle butts in. “And all you are is trouble. You probably walked right into the subway station knowing the Foot Clan were there, didn’t you?” 

“No! We—” June is stuck juggling for a remark, but one never comes. She lets her mouth fall shut. The red-masked turtle humphs, proudly, with a loose smile. He cocks his eyebrow muscle up. 

“That has nothing to do with taking your photo,” April interjects. “But we won’t say anything, alright?” She directs to the blue-masked turtle. He nods, deeming the situation as solved. 

The large brute covertly strains a glare at June. She returns one just as strong, unable to figure out why he’s so bothered by her. He saved her once—no, twice. And yes, she's surprised he's not human, but June doesn't see him as a freak.

The blue-masked turtle pivots around to order the red, “We’re on the move, Raphael.” His rounded shell blocks their view from one another—June can finally force her eyes away. She hears a scoff before the red-masked turtle turns away to climb onto the ledge of the building.

“Raphael?” April mumbles, slightly louder for June to catch. She looks over at her sister to question her absent expression. But the sound of a weapon slicing through the air brings her attention to the red-masked turtle again. 

His short swords flip in his hands before he slots them back into his belt. He growls with his toothpick switching to the other side of his mouth. And he doesn’t take his gaze off of June as he does so. With a final look, the red-masked turtle narrows his eyes at the younger sister before leaving.

“Yeah!” The orange-masked turtle drags out, “we’ll find you, O’Neils,” as he backs away—his wink has no receptor. April’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I’m sorry, that came across super creepy, okay? It’s—wha… we will find you, though!” He apologizes with a playful smile. He stumbles away to join the rest of his partners.

The four turtles leave the sisters alone on the rooftop as they flip over the metal bars and swing to the next building. April digs into her jacket pocket as she rushes to the ledge of the rooftop. June joins her, watching the turtles depart as the night sky turns them into silhouettes. 

But one is vaguely familiar. It makes her huff that his attitude got to her.

“I was on fire, bra!” June hears the distinct voice of the orange-masked turtle cheering. “Did you see me back there? Guys, I totally talked to a girl!”

In unison, the other three shout, “Shut up, Mikey!”

April pulls out her phone and lifts it up to snap a photo of the turtles leaping in the air. The pixelated image is still clear enough to prove the vigilantes are more than mere humans.

They’re something incredible, June sighs in thought.

April turns to her sister, her mouth ajar. She can’t find the right words to use but June nods in understanding. “I don’t even know. That was crazy.”

But it’s not what April was trying to convey. She shakes her head with her hand reaching up to caress her temple. June watches her with concern.

“What, April?”

“I…” she breathes out, then tries again, “I think I know them.” June blinks at her sister. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

April doesn’t answer, muttering incoherently. June just stares, utterly confused as to why she would claim something as bizarre as that.

“You mean, personally?” She asks another question. “How? We just met them.”

“No, Juno,” April says and grasps June’s shoulders. Her voice drops to a whisper. “No, we didn’t.”

June is panting loudly as they travel up the stairs to their apartment. April hasn’t spoken since her declaration on the rooftop—instead she repeated the same names under her breath. 

Leonardo.

Raphael.

Her eagerness to get back home ignored the cars honking as they cut through the streets and pushed past the strolling pedestrians.

April rams the front door open and darts into her room. June follows close behind, finally speaking up to ask, “What’s going on, April? What did you mean back there?”

She stands at the doorframe, watching April slide the door open to her closet. She reaches for the items piled on the top shelf and throws them behind her. June hesitantly walks further inside the room. 

“Leonardo. I know those names,” April rambles as more boxes and loose clothing find themselves on the floor. June steps around them to stand at April’s side. She looks at her sister, worried. “I know those names.”

“April, I don’t understand. What do you mean we know them?” June speaks softly, hoping to get her attention. 

She doesn’t receive an answer as April drops to her knees to dig at the bottom of her closet. More clothes, more boxes, more confusion for June. “Raphael… Leonardo. I know—”

April continues to dig further until she suddenly freezes mid-motion. Her back straightens and her expression widens. June drops down to her side. “What?”

Her query is responded to when a brown striped box is pulled out from the closet. June stays quiet while her eyes flicker between her sister and the box.

April takes off the black top and flips the box over so all the content falls out. The first thing to catch their attention is a black folder. On the bottom, there is a small, fine print that reads: Project Renaissance. 

Her hand steadily opens the folder and finds a single piece of newspaper. April’s breath stills. Her finger slides over the palpable header.

Lab Fire Kills Scientist. Hidden in the corner of the page: Arson Suspected.

It’s not a shock—April knew her mother kept everything related to the fire. It was her obsession for a while. But this box has been buried and unopened, stashed away to be passed down generations until it was eventually forgotten. Now it’s risen to the surface and slapped in her face. The original newspaper copy of the laboratory fire. And the few files that survived. 

A notebook with the same Project Renaissance imprinted on the cover hides underneath the folder. June picks it up and skims through the pages. Black ink messily fills the lines with red highlights correcting their work. She doesn’t have the mental capacity to digest the amount of information scribbled down, but June admires the handwriting of her late father. She drags her finger along his words.

April continues to search through the pile, pushing folders aside until she finds a blue shoe box. She flips it over to dump out an old camcorder and mini video tapes. They scatter on the floor, and April grabs the first one in sight to stick it inside the camcorder.

Her hands are trembling with her uneasy breath. “June,” April calls for her sister to join her watchparty. She presses down on the play button while June situates herself closer. It takes a while for the film to cough to life after being stowed away for years. 

The small screen changes from a black void to a small, doe eyed April O’Neil from fifteen years ago. “Good evening, this is April O’Neil reporting live from my dad’s lab,” she introduces herself to the camera. “I know it sounds pretty boring, but actually, he does some pretty cool stuff.”

June leans against April’s shoulder to get a better look. “No way,” she gasps, growing a smile at the proof of their father’s laboratory. All the sound in the bedroom is snatched when little April turns the camera around to… their father.

“Time to put the camera away, April,” he tells her from his desk—his voice has a stern but adoring tone for his daughter.

“Aw, dad!” Little April groans. The video abruptly ends after their father’s demand. April glances at June as the features on her face go wide. All the emotions are filled in her eyes as they rim with tears. 

April grabs another video tape to put inside the camera. She clicks the play button again. It skips to a couple of months ahead where little April explores the bustling laboratory at her short height.

“And now, I will show you something amazing,” she explains as she unsteadily moves the camera to a glowing canister, protected inside a glass box. It lets out an alienated hum under April’s voice. “It’s supposed to be from a different planet in outer space!”

April fast forwards the video because her younger self can’t stable the camera during her tour. She lands on Eric Sacks, in his lab coat, holding up a turtle as he gently injects it with a needle. “Here we go,” he whispers while little April zooms in. “Ah…”

The video eventually turns into an interview of little April cornering Eric Sacks and their father. “Mr. Sacks, what sort of experiments are you doing here?” Little April asks, making the scientist break out into a dubious chuckle. Their father joins in with a simple laugh behind him.

June stares intently on the man leaning against the wall, amused at his daughter’s question. She hones in on his features—the crinkle of his eyes, the shrivel of his nose, the expansion of his cheeks from the curve of his smile. 

She’s used to the stilled pictures of her father, so the liveness in his eyes forces her lips to mash together as she withholds a cry. He looks into the camera as Eric speaks, and June feels him as he stares at her. His every small movements are being watched by her.

“Look at the camera!” Little April scolds Eric—the older version smiles at herself on the screen. 

The bedroom is sounded by the film camera, but also the quiet sniffling of the two sisters sitting on the floor. June wipes her nose as the video continues. 

She glances down at the rest of the thrown video tapes on the floor. “Hello, Splinter,” she hears little April speak in the video. June remembers the name of the rat they’ve spoken about briefly.

She distracts herself by gathering up the other video tapes—there’re only four of them after she hands April a different tape to watch. June notices a scribbled word on each of them. The handwriting doesn’t look like their father’s, but more like a ten year old April’s doing.

“Are these also lab videos?” June asks, casually, as she loosely plays with one of the tapes. April only shrugs, unsure of the answer herself. She clicks play on the camera to start the new video.

“And these are my little turtles!” Little April speaks again. June’s eyes glance at the screen while her fingers fiddle with the video tape in her hand. Little April slides the camera to each lined up tank of the red-eared sliders she begins to name.

June flips the mini tape in her hand, presenting a name written on the cover with a red marker. “Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and…” Her face drains completely of color. She audibly chokes on the word as little April names the last turtle in the background.

“... Raphael.”

April is frozen in utter shock—the sole noise being the mini tape dropping from June’s grasp. The video continues in the background. “The fans want to see you.” Little April lowers the camera to her side, where thirteen month old June stands against her sister’s leg. “And the ‘fans’ being baby Juno,” Little April laughs.

June slowly forces her eyes to watch herself on the film camera. Little April lifts her sister to sit on her hip so she can see the tank of turtles. The screen becomes shaky as April tries to hold baby June with one hand and record with the other.

The turtles inside the tank notice the two sisters on the other side of the glass. One of them, marked with a red sticker on its shell, swims to the staring humans. June babbles at the turtle—little April laughs behind the camera.

“Watch this, guys,” she says, bringing June closer to the glass. “This one likes baby Juno.” To experiment, June squeaks out a sound as she plants a hand on the side of the tank. The red-stickered turtle, familiar with a certain voice, climbs on top of a rock and stares at the baby babbling at him. 

April giggles as she holds the camera back to display the interaction. The turtle suddenly rises to stand on two legs. One of the sisters lets out a stunned gasp as the other spits.

“See, he likes her,” Little April proves her hypothesis. “Now, watch this.” The camera loses a focus as June is placed on the ground. The screen is upside down for a while until little April steadies it again. 

The red-stickered turtle continues to stand against the glass, intrigued by little April's movements. “Ready?” She prepares the audience. The camera is brought closer to the tank as April holds up her own hand to the glass—a replica of June’s gesture.

It takes a second for the red-stickered turtle to react, but it slowly retracts its head back before it suddenly pounds against the glass—right where April’s finger hovered. The tank cracks from the impact, almost shattering the glass.

The video ends, and the camcorder is lowered as April turns her head to look at June. The younger sister doesn’t know what to say as her mouth has fallen agape. 

They have met those turtles before.

“I knew it,” April exclaims, placing a hand on June’s shoulders. “The vigilante… I saw him!”

“You saw them,” June corrects her with a disbelieving shake of her head.

“Yes, I saw them! And I’ve known them since I was a little girl,” April splutters as she looks down at the other video tapes with the turtles’ names on them. She picks one of them up, disregarding the rest of the mess on the floor. “They were my pets. They were my childhood pets, and they were named after Italian Renaissance painters!”

June covers her forehead with her hand with an anticipation for a pounding headache. April is high on adrenaline as she searches through more of the files scattered around them. She opens other notebooks and shakes loose papers out of their folders.

But June grows dizzy. That vigilante that saved her, now bothered by her—has been the turtle that was once intrigued by her.

And they probably won’t ever meet again.

June stays up that night to help April gather all the pieces needed for an evidence board. They use the printer that was stocked away in June’s closet to issue larger images of their father’s lab and the experimental animals that have grown into incredible creatures.

April clicks away on her computer while June skims through the pages of their father’s notes. They connect previous Foot Clan crime scenes to the kanji symbol that appeared at each of them. The camcorder sits propped up to play in the background—little April loved to show the chemicals bubbling in the laboratory and the green substance that sat protected inside its box.

The sisters finally call it a night when April stashes their evidence into a slim, briefcase bag. June is on her fifth yawn that pains her jaw sore. She gently places all the files and materials that were dumped onto the floor back into its brown box.

Her exhaustion of the night had finally caught up to her—being attacked by the Foot Clan to then be saved by four mysterious vigilantes to then meet the mutated turtles that actually were her father’s test subjects. It strained her head tiredly as she passed out on April’s bed with the glow of green eyes narrowing down on her in her dreams.

June follows April through the streets of New York on her bikes, thanks to Vern returning it back to its rack. She brisks in the early morning air as she accompanies her sister to the Channel Six building.

The briefcase bag flaps behind April, filled with make-or-break evidence. June lets out a nervous exhale and unsticks her wet palms from her bike handles. She knows the people at Channel Six aren’t the friendliest, especially with April’s Foot Clan nonsense. But she still wants to stand by her side this morning because the discoveries of last night were very important to April.

There are vigilantes that are fighting back against the Foot Clan. And those things are April’s childhood pets.

Her boss’s office is small but still holds enough room to slide two whiteboards inside. April and June get straight to work as they tape up their printed pictures that were stuffed in the briefcase bag. They place post-its next to their photos and write down notes with a variety of whiteboard markers.

April boxes important details with a lighter color and draws numerous arrows to show the connections of the photos. June stands back to watch the final pieces come together.

“How does it look?” April asks over her shoulder. She circles the Kanji symbol that shows up in each photo with a red pen. 

“Good. A lot of documents on here. Should be enough,” she answers, walking over to the turtle section of the whiteboard. A zoomed in picture of one of the turtles sits beside the pixelated photo April took on the rooftop. 

June is still stunned, more so in disbelief, of the events of last night. During the bike ride to Channel Six, she had to remind herself that it wasn’t a dream. She couldn’t tell April that she was crazy for making crazy accusations. Because June was there and saw it all… It's true. 

And as she stares at the photo of the four large figures leaping in the air, she can’t deny it any longer that she is just as eager as April to learn more. To delve deeper into the experiments her father and Eric Sacks worked on. And hopefully, April’s boss will too.

June stares at the names bulleted down a line. Leonardo. Donatello. Michelangelo. Raphael.

Her heart thumps against her chest again. She plays with the charm sitting on her neckline to covertly hold herself steady. Her emotions are unable to understand how they want to feel. 

She was robbed of her breath when she saw him standing in front of her. She examined the parts of him in awe, attempting to make sense of what she saw. But she hates how he thought it was in disgust; in fear of his looks. He was more than what her brain could handle. 

And now she wishes she could see him again to start over.

June is pulled out of her thoughts when April’s boss bursts inside her office. “O’Neil!” The sisters jump to attention—June moves to stand beside the whiteboard. She reminds herself that April wanted to do all the talking. She’s simply there as support.

 “Alright, what was so important I had to get here?” Bernadette asks, searching for an explanation.

“Okay, are you ready?” April exclaims, bouncing on her toes. She’s fueled with a buzzing new drive—a newfound determination. Her hands run through her hair as her boss finds June and the whiteboard standing behind her.

“Yeah,” Bernadette nods.

“Okay,” April starts as she clears her throat, “you know how I saw the vigilante?”

“Yeah?”

“But I had no photos of evidence to show you, so I just sounded crazy!” April continues as she frantically waves her hands around. 

“Yes!” Bernadette’s nods turn rapid, eager to hear where this’ll lead.

“But I saw him again. Well, I didn’t see him again, I saw them, because there’s four,” April corrects herself, holding up four fingers. “There’s not just one there’s four. And I was standing as close to them as you are to me right now.”

Bernadette’s eyes widen. “What’d they look like?” She pleasingly presses for evidence.

April smirks at her boss, “I’ll show you,” before turning to June near the whiteboard. Her pants are loud as she moves across the office.

June prepares to show Bernadette the photo of the four figures jumping to another building. But April throws her a curveball when she decides to use two fingers to point to the image of the red-eared slider instead. The thin, yellow lines stretch across its face to its shell. 

“What…?” Bernadette is stuck for words. June’s mouth parts to speak but she ultimately sucks her comment back in. She just watches her sister instead. 

April taps the whiteboard. “Like this,” she motions to the red-eared slider again. June winces under her breath. 

Bernadette squints her eyes at the image. “Like turtles?” She asks for clarification.

“Well, they don’t look like turtles because they are turtles,” April explains. June turns her head away to cringe. She didn’t think April would lay down the news that way. It makes no sense—not that mutated turtles make sense in the first place. But there was a better way to explain it, and April is not doing that. Still, June doesn’t interject as it isn’t her place to. She stands back straight, nodding in support.

Bernadette lifts an eyebrow at April then stares back at the picture she points to. “They’re over six feet tall and they speak English,” April tells her. 

The room goes silent. Bernadette even looks at June, shocked, wondering if she’s on the same boat as April. The younger sister simply nods.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps in disbelief.

April pulls at the roots of her hair, realizing how she may sound. Bernadette shakes her head and turns away. “I was awake all night, please!” April begs to stop her. “Look, I was awake all night googling all of the thwarted crimes over the past three months.” She directs the room’s attention to a different section of the whiteboard.

The scattered photos of numerous crime scenes cover the board. They all surround the kanji symbol bolded in the middle. “And this symbol appeared at every single one.” June glances at Bernadette, who watches April wide-eyed and jaw dropped.

April ignores Bernadette’s appalled expression as she roams her hands around the board. “Look! Every single one of them. This one—look. Here, here, here, here, here,” April says, pointing to each photo of the crime scene with the same symbol. “And it’s an ancient Japanese symbol that means family.”

Bernadette’s head drops into her hand. She sighs, incredulously. 

April runs to the table that sat the rest of the files they brought. “Wait, it’s on my laptop,” she mutters. “It’s here. It’s here.”

“I can’t believe you brought me in to do this,” Bernadette laughs, almost amazed. April ignores her as she types on her laptop to open up a video.

June takes the quiet opportunity to speak. She steps forward to stand beside April who frantically stutters her finger along the touchpad.

“It’s a video from our father’s lab,” June says, politely. Bernadette chews on her lip as she listens to the tamed sister. “It’s the same lab where these things were born… or created… uh, mutated?”

“We don’t know the terminology, but will you please just look at what I’m showing you and listen to me?” April flips the laptop around to face Bernadette. The screen showcases the four turtles swimming in the makeshift pond in their tank. “It’s all connected. The turtles are the vigilantes and the vigilantes are these turtles,” she explains, desperately.

June watches with Bernadette as little April feeds the orange-stickered turtle a piece of her pizza. The turtle lifts up for a bite. “Pizza has cheese, tomato sauce—all your favorite stuff. Eat it! You guys need nutrition.”

Bernadette sighs loudly, now very unimpressed. She pushes up her glasses as she looks away from the video of little April muttering at the turtle, “Or not.”

June chews on the inside of her cheek, anxiously. She would have shown a different video, maybe the one of the red-stickered turtle breaking the glass, but the damage is already done. Her boss is pissed.

Bernadette closes April’s laptop in their face as she huffs, “I just want to be clear. You are now telling me that there are four six-foot talking turtles walking around New York City, and no one has seen them but you two?” 

June knows she’s making the question sound like it’s a crazy, illogical idea. Because it is. June would think the same exact thing… if she hadn’t been face-to-face with his glowing eyes.

Bernadette gives April an out. A chance to reveal that this is one big joke and show the real vigilantes she saw. But April keeps her chin high. “That’s what I’m telling you,” she answers with a firm nod.

“I don’t mean to laugh…” Bernadette chuckles, and decides to play along. She shrugs her shoulders, casually. “But is there anything else we should know about them?” She asks with a humored smile. Her head tilts at April—it’s obviously condescending. 

April looks away for a brief second. “They’re ninjas,” she mumbles.

Bernadette’s face drops. “I’m sorry, what?” she blinks at April as if she’s lost it.

“And they do karate,” April adds to make matters worse for herself. June rolls her lips inward, wanting to correct the term for ninjutsu. But she braces for impact instead.

Bernadette lets out a hard exhale. “Okay, get out.”

June helps April carry her boxes out of the Channel Six building—being put on leave for an unforeseeable time until, and quote, “get a hold of yourself or you’ll be let go for good.” 

The sisters leave through the front door with April walking at a faster, embarrassed pace than June. The travel downstairs was quiet, though the obvious gloat the turtles had over them could be heard. Of course this was the reaction others would have.

“O’Neil's." June rolls her eyes at the redundant call of Vern’s voice. They both turn their heads to find him leaning against the Channel Six van. 

“Vernon,” June mutters.

He pushes off the van to approach the sisters, immediately noticing the state April is in and connects the dots. He lets out a puff of air. “Could have been worse,” he tries to downplay.

June shakes her head, adjusting the box in her hands. “Yeah, real smooth,” she chuckles. 

There is a clear red rim in April’s eyes and her flushed cheeks are coated with dry tears. “I just got put on leave, Vern, for however long. How can it be worse?”

“Maybe it’s good. Maybe you should take a little time. Take care of yourself,” Vern shrugs, sympathetically. June forces down a snarky comment with a clear of her throat. “Come on, let me give you two a ride,” he offers. "I already put your bikes in the back."

April shakes her head as she starts to back away in the other direction. “Not unless you’re going to the Eric Sacks estate,” she challenges, then motions for June to follow her. “Come on, Juno.” 

Vern is quick to step in front of her path. “Hey, hey!” He whispers to not draw attention.

“I’m not giving up on this story,” April says, firmly.

Vern holds his hand out to slow her down. “You gotta put that to bed,” He tells her. His eyes look up at June still nearby the van. “Both of you.”

“Would all of those other great reporters that you worked with, would they have ‘put it to bed’?” April argues back.

“No, that’s different.”

“How is it different?” April steps in his face. “They all started exactly where I am, right?”

There is a long pause as the two simply stare at each other. Vern lets out a hard exhale, ticking his jaw—annoyed but not surprised of April’s stubbornness. 

He finally takes the box from her hands. “I’m not driving the Channel Six News van onto the Sacks estate,” He says, brushing past April back to the van. 

“Who asked you to do that?” she turns to follow him, a smile starting to grow on her face. June feels lighter about the situation now.

“Uh, you did,” Vern replies, playfully. “And a thanks would have been nice.”

“Maybe one day you’re gonna be thanking me,” April shouts as she climbs into the passenger seat.

Vern approaches June. “Put the boxes in the back,” he says, opening the door. The younger sister, quiet up until now, helps Vern stack April’s stuff into the van. 

“Thanks, Vernon,” she whispers, inaudible to April’s ear. She slips him a gratefully smirk as they slide the boxes against the wall. Their bikes already sit on the opposite side, picked up by Vern. He winks at June in response, before she climbs into the back of the van. He shuts the doors behind her.

Vern hops into the driver’s seat and clicks in his seatbelt. “So, what do you want with Eric Sacks?” He looks over at April as he starts up the van.

“Our dad used to work for him,” April replies, resting her head back against the headrest. “He’s the only person that’s gonna be able to tell me whether or not I’m crazy.”

“Crazy about what?” He asks, obliviously.

April looks back at June with a hesitant frown. It’s almost a question of whether it was a good idea to bring Vern into their absurdity. June leans up in her seat to answer for her. “She doesn’t want you to laugh at her also,” June tells Vern.

“Oh, come on, O’Neil. This is the Fenwick Express—it’s a judgement-free zone,” he says with a wide smile. “A cocoon of safety.”

April’s voice goes soft. “Promise?”

“I’m insulted that you would suggest otherwise.” Vern looks forward to begin the drive.

June’s phone on the ottoman begins to ring. As she settles down on the couch, she reaches for it and answers the call from April.

“What’s up, April O’Neil from Channel Six News?” June exclaims into the phone as The Little Mermaid is put on pause.

“Hello, June O’Neil from the couch,” April giggles back on speaker. June whips her head around. 

“Wha—How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess? Just the likely place you’d be,” April teases. June clicks her tongue. “Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“Yup. I bet you're wondering what it is.”

April puffs out a breath, feigning a thought. “I don’t know. Pizza?”

“Exactly!” June cheers. “And no, there will be none left for you when you get home.”

“Darn,” April sighs. “I was hoping to have frozen pizza for dinner tonight.”

June shrugs, unfortunate. She takes another bite and exaggerates a tasty moan. 

“But speaking of dinner, Vern won’t shut up about a new burger joint he wants to take me to.”

“And this involves me… how?” June drags out.

“We’re a package deal.”

“Cute,” June snorts with a roll of her eyes. “Fine, send me the address. I’ll bike there when you get off work.”

“Thank you,” April says. “Well, enjoy your pizza. I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Ta-ta,” June sings, before ending the call. She uses the remote to continue the movie.

The breeze filtering from the open balcony shivers June’s shoulders. She runs her hand down her arm, glancing at the ajar sliding door.

June places her plate on the ottoman, before strolling into April’s room—a casual idea to raid her closet for a certain hoodie. It’s being shared between the two sisters, though it vacants in April’s closet when it’s not being worn.

June enters the bright, beige walls of April’s room and is met with a pile of papers scattered along the bedsheets. June isn’t one for being nosey, but a picture of a shipping container catches her eye and pulls her over to the bed to take a glimpse.

The image of a kanji symbol graffitied on a wet shipping container sits in the middle of the stacked papers. June picks it up to examine it. She immediately recognizes the setting of the picture and knows April took it when she snuck to the docks. It’s the symbol that the vigilante left behind, the one April told June about. 

The next paper June picks up is a printed explanation of the Japanese symbol. It’s an ancient symbol that means family, and has been photographed at numerous crime scenes, presumably to mark the vigilante's presence. June lifts a curious eyebrow, wondering what the vigilante's real purpose was for leaving it behind to be found.

Why an ancient Japanese symbol? Why family? 

June puts the papers back where she found them and continues her search for a favorite hoodie in the closet. The questions will have to wait to be answered. And not over burgers with Vern.

The sky is dark but the city lights brighten the streets of Manhattan. The Channel Six van sits in another block of traffic. Car horns play on the radio, or outside—the difference is a fine line.

June is tired from the large burger that she ate in one go, challenging herself to not have any leftovers on her plate. She leans back into her seat and listens to the soft music on her phone.

Vern has gone hushed, frustrated by the red lights flashing in his face as April watches the smoke rise from the manhole covers out her window. She interrupts the silence with a mumbling confession, “Eric Sacks was so inspiring last night.” June and Vern look over at her. They realize she’s caught up on the Foot Clan again. “I know this is a story that actually matters.”

June sighs, not exactly pitiful. She reaches up to place a hand on April’s arm. “I know. I think it is too,” She agrees. April looks back at her sister with a thankful smile.

Vern cuts in to joke, “The superhero one?” The sisters give him a bored glance. “That’s a good idea. I should chase that down.”

“Shut up, Vernon,” June says, trying not to laugh as she flicks the back of Vern’s head. “Like you can take the Foot Clan head on,” she quips—April snorts, dryly. Because they both know he can’t, but also know who could.

June hasn’t been forthcoming about meeting the vigilante. She doesn’t know what good it’ll do to tell April as she’s only seen him once. If there’s another sighting of him, maybe the timing will be better.

Another car honk breaks June from her thoughts. She leans forward against the back of Vern’s chair. She places a chin on the shoulder with a huff.

“I assume we’re not getting home anytime soon,” June blurts.

“Probably not. But no worries. The Channel Six van is a perfect camper—” Vern’s words are overridden by the loud commotion of people appearing around a building’s corner, wailing as they sprint away. They maneuver through the street, around the blocked in cars. The look of horror casts undeniably on their faces.

June recoils in her seat, startled by the noise. 

“Where’s everybody going?” Vern lifts his hands from the steering wheel. 

April sits up, poking her head out her window. “I don’t know,” she whispers, barely audible. “Stay here, Juno.”

The sound of the door unlocking turns June and Vern’s head in April’s direction. She jumps out the van, slamming the door behind her. “O’Neil! Where are you going?” Vern yells.

“April!” June hollers, releasing herself from her seatbelt and climbing into the passenger seat to shout her name again. April grabs the shoulders of the first person she bumps into.

“Hey! What are you running from?” She asks, swiftly. The person’s face is smite with fear as they slap April’s hands away to run past her. “Wait, wait!”

April continues to dash in the direction the crowd disperses from. Her head spins with absurd curiosity. 

“Ugh, what is her problem!” June fumbles with the door and stumbles out of the van. April disappears out of sight, igniting June’s feet to run faster.

“June! Hey! Stay here—” Vern’s voice is tuned out as June chases after her sister.

Again.

June turns down a new block, bumping into numerous people. She pushes them away to keep her eyes on the beacon of April’s neon yellow jacket. Her hair jumps wildly behind her.

The overstimulating sound of honking cars playing in the background of people screaming begins to blur as June’s heavy pants ring in her ears. She dips around the rear end of parked cars, brushing past the food trucks, and maneuvers through the few blocks of escaping new yorkers to the danger.

The stairs to the subway are in view—so is the faint sight of April. Her speed slows at the entrance as she allows the people to run past her. April travels down the stairs, grabbing onto the railing for leverage. June quickly follows suit.

When she reaches the bottom of the steps, April stops in her tracks to peek around the corner. It gives June the opportunity to catch her.

Her anger is eminent as she growls a loud, “What is actually wrong with you, April!” She grips her sister’s forearm to jerk her back against the wall. April does a double take, blinking widely at June.

“June! What are you doing here?” She barks, holding onto her shoulders. “I told you to—”

“Are you an idiot, moron, or just plain stupid?” June quiets her yelling to a stern whisper as the voices fade from the last few people running up the stairs. “Do you have a concussion?”

“June,” April sighs, briefly closing her eyes to contain her annoyance. “You never listen.”

“Neither do you!” April’s hand slaps over June’s mouth when her voice echoes through the empty subway entrance. The sounds of footsteps peek the sisters’ head around the corner again.

Two Foot Clan soldiers, dressed in their signature black uniforms, descend down another stack of stairs. They hold their guns tightly in front of them. When they disappear, April faces June with a glare filled with fury.

“Go back to Vern, June,” April commands. Her jade eyes narrow. “I’m serious.”

June pushes April’s hand away from her mouth. “Did we not just see the same thing? Those were Foot Clan soldiers! With guns!”

“I know! So you need to go,” April says sharply, grabbing June’s arm and urging her back up the stairs to the surface. “I’ll meet you back at home.”

“No, no freaking way! I’m coming.” June fights back. She opens her mouth to speak again, but the vibration of gunshots rumble in their ears. The sisters go still.

April has to look up at June, but doesn’t falter her sober scowl. She takes a step forward, pointing to the stairs. “Go, June.”

“No. You either leave with me or I’m coming too,” June argues. “I understand you don’t want to give up on the Foot Clan story, and I’m not here to stop you.”

April’s eyes soften for a moment. “What?”

“I said, I’m not here to stop you. But I won’t let you do this alone anymore. If you want to deal with the Foot Clan, we do it together.”

June brushes past April, not waiting for an answer. She heads for the closest column to hide behind. April darts across the room to join her. She places a hand on June’s side, breathing quietly against her back.

“If we’re doing this, you follow my lead,” She tells June with a scolding pinch. June hisses and smacks her hand away. “Don’t leave my side. Understand?” 

“Okay. I know,” June says, glancing over her shoulder.

Another round of gunshots stop their footsteps—June squeals into the silence. She’s never heard the sound of real gunshots before and never knew they could shake someone’s body to the core. She hugs the pillar to ground herself.

April squeezes June’s side for her attention. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m coming with you,” June waves off April’s attempt to push her away. “Let’s go. Lead the way.”

April huffs, jogging to the turnstiles first. She lifts herself over it and rushes to hide behind another closeby column. June does the same, finding herself crouched by a column beside April. 

They share a glance, checking on one another. June lifts the corner of her mouth to assure her sister she’s ready. April hesitates to proceed, clenching her teeth together as she examines the empty room. June watches her sister, waiting for a signal.

The flash of black is so fast that June doesn’t get the chance to warn April before two Foot Clan soldiers grab them from behind. “June!” April chokes on her voice as the Foot grabs at the back of her neck and yanks her from the column. She’s lifted slightly off the ground as the soldier gets a better holding on her.

June is forced into a headlock as she screams for her sister. “April! Help!” She cries in fear, latching onto the Foot’s arm that pushes her forward painfully. 

“June!” April yells again, her eyes darting to June being dragged away. She watches helplessly as the soldier that holds her follows behind the pair. “I’m here, Juno! I’m here,” April calls out to her.

The sisters are walked down the stairs to the subway tracks. They are accompanied by almost a hundred other hostages. The pained groans and worried whines fill the room. June gasps at the number of people lined up against the walls. Guns point sternly in their faces and direct orders.

June forces her head back, catching a glimpse of April behind her. Her racing heart bumps down a beat in relief. “I see you, Juno!” April tells her with a tremble.

The Foot soldier shoves June forward again, seething, “Keep moving,” in her ear. She wants to kick her leg back to knock him down, but it would only make matters worse as she’s outnumbered. 

In front of her, June is met with a familiar woman. Her features don’t come to mind but the red highlights in her short ponytail flashes June back to a rainy night.

A Foot Clan member drops his gun as he’s slammed to the ground, his yelp cut short as he passes out.

Just after the first container dents into the floor, another one rises to fly at more Foot Clan members.

The authoritative voice of the woman from earlier yells out, “Retreat. Retreat!” She and the rest of the Foot Clan make a run to their vehicles. 

She must be the leader of the Foot Clan—and June realizes she’s caught in the crossfire of another one of their plans. Her eyes meet the woman’s briefly and she’s given an uninterested glance before the Foot soldier leads her further into the station. 

The woman scans the room—she seems attentive, secretly troubled as she ignores the hostages crying at her feet. She keeps a close grip on her gun sitting in her holster as she listens for movements beyond the station.

June is thrown to the ground against a column. When she plants her hands down to catch herself, they grab the edge of the platform. June sucks in a sharp breath and jumps back before falling into the train tracks.

A grunt is heard beside her. April lands just as harsh, shutting her eyes to brace the impact. The immediate sight of her bright jacket relieves June.

“April!” she sobs as she latches onto her sister. April, fallen on her side, holds June against her. She presses June’s head into her chest. 

“It’s okay. We’re okay,” April whispers in her ear to overpower the frightening barks of the Foot Clan soldiers.

June’s ear perks up at the sudden noise of loud ticking, followed by the screaming of, “They’re bombs!” She lifts her head from April to observe the small, black boxes being set up along the walls by the Foot Clan. The red flickering light against the box widens April’s eyes. 

A newfound set of panic whimpers from June’s mouth. 

April turns her back to June, attempting to shield her from the commotion. She grabs June’s arm to place around her. June hugs April from behind and shuts her eyes.

“I’ll get us out of this,” April says as the regret settles in. June holds onto her sister tighter, nodding into her back.

The room grows quiet as the dominating voice of the Foot Clan’s leader booms out, “We know you’re out there!” Everyone’s attention points to her, questioning who she speaks to. The dark makeup around her eyes sharpen her wrathful expression. “If you don’t surrender, we start executing hostages.”

The Foot continue to force their guns in people’s faces as they cry. They growl at them to stay quiet and keep down on the ground.

“Who is she talking to?” June asks April in a quiet whisper, her voice shivering. 

“I… don’t know,” April answers back. “The vigilante?”

June gapes, “You think?”

“Just keep your head down, Juno,” April tells her over her shoulder. “It’ll be alright.” June does as she's told, hiding her head into April’s back again.

April moves slowly, watching the Foot soldiers as they surveil the hostages. “Don't make me tell you again! Not a word!” one of them yells at their group against the wall. 

April slyly pulls her phone out from her jacket, holding it close as she tilts the camera to put the leader and her soldiers into view.

June is oblivious to April’s plan as an older woman on the other side of April notices. “Don’t,” she begs under her breath. “Don’t do it!” June furrows her eyebrows in confusion as she glances over April’s body. Her eyes laser on her phone, and she instinctively reaches out to grab it.

“What are you doing, April? Stop!” June protests.

The sound of April’s phone capturing the scene turns the short ponytail leader around. She finds April and June fighting for the phone pointing at her. 

“You two!” she shouts at the sisters. Her gun clocks loudly, startling the both of them. June hugs April—scared. “Stand up,” the woman orders. Her heels clank against the concrete as she draws closer.

“No,” June cries into April.

Before the girls can move, a voice strikes through the stillness. It comes from the empty train tracks. 

All aboard!

The high-pitched turn of train wheels hiss in the air, barreling into the station. The echo of deranged laughter cuts the short ponytail woman off. June can see her face pale as she darts her head to the cursed tracks.

She shouts to her soldiers in Japanese as the lights of the subway fail into a black out. April reaches back to hold June, assuring that she's still there. The train’s headlights blind the hostages to cover their eyes as it rumbles through the dark station. 

June is hit with an unsettling sense of deja vu when a bulky shadow leaps from the top of the train and lands onto the platform. A distinctive size figure bolts across the concrete to the leader that shoots undirected bullets. 

A harsh grunt is heard as she is slammed barbarously into the tiled wall—pieces falling on top of her, as she flops unconscious to the ground.

June slowly sits up. Her jaw drops on its own as she's met with the vigilante from the docks. The one she was sure she may never see again. She feels a smile start to form on her face at its return. It came back to save her.

But another gust of wind flies over her, the same kind as before. June is forced into a halt as a different shadow slices through the air onto the platform too. Almost identical to the vigilante.

“Another one?” She speaks out loud. 

This figure rushes into a group of Foot soldiers, throwing each one into the wall. It makes playful exhalation sounds, almost like it’s having fun. The impact of each soldier ricocheting to the floor is accompanied by a pained groan. The figure runs back into the darkness. A streak of orange.

April begins to stand to her feet. June watches as her sister holds her phone out to record the intense sequence. June rises from the ground herself and grabs onto April.

“What are you doing?” She yells over the noise, exasperated. April ignores June and turns her camera to another Foot soldier being hit.

June plants her feet steadily to fight the harsh wind of the train whipping by her. She pushes her hair out of her face in time to see a Foot soldier being grabbed and thrown into the moving train. She gets a look at the figure for a short moment before it darts away. A streak of blue.

On the other side of the platform, through the windows of the train, the same shadow repeatedly punches another soldier into the wall. June notices the figure has a bulky back as well, like the one that saved her. But it's noticeably smaller with two sword scabbards. 

June’s eyes are forced in a different direction when a Foot soldier flies in the air and crashes into the ceiling lights. He falls back to the ground with sparks landing on the hostages. They turn their heads away, giving the figure time to disperse from its spot. This one is taller and holds a long stick by its side. June doesn’t have time to dwell on the features but still notices something before it disappeared. A streak of purple.

A loud laugh is heard with a lively cheer, “like a shadow, bra.” A pair of swinging chains shine against the wavering light. Its punches are brisk, knocking out each Foot soldier one by one. “How you like that?”

June’s vision turns hazy from all the flickering. She feels dizzy as her eyes blink the sight into sense. Her head feels like it’s pounding. She can’t comprehend what she sees and doesn’t know if she can believe it.

Not one. Not two. Three vigilantes invade the Foot Clan’s plan and are here to save all the hostages.

A grunt lands behind June. She flinches from the noise, turning around to a large body hovering over her. A Foot soldier groans as it hits the ground—the figure kicks it away. 

June chokes on her gasp as she gawks up at a tall, familiar silhouette. The flash of light gives June a short second to examine it. The glow of its eyes peers down at her, a growl rumbling in its chest. 

The second is over and the darkness engulfs the figure. When the flash returns, June is met with… nothing. She stands alone, staring out to the bustling brawl in the station. But she still caught it. A streak of red.

There are four of them. And the last one was him. Her vigilante. 

“Let’s go! Let’s move!” June looks around, finding the shadows rushing to a large, yellow tarp against the wall, blocked by barricades. The tarp bulges and shakes as the vigilantes climb out of the station. June takes a step forward, standing beside April, who notices the same tarp.

The hostile yelling and clocking of guns go quiet. The people trapped in the station begin to rise from their spots, deeming themselves as safe. A crowd rushes over to the tarp and surrounds it. “Did you see that?” someone says. “Here, here!” They question who are the shadows that saved them.

“They climbed up here!” The tarp stays unmoving—the vigilantes already escaping the scene. April grabs June’s arm to run her over. June catches her footing to join the rest of the crowd.

“Some kind of freak!” A man points up to the top of the tarp where it leads to the ceiling. “Yeah, there were a couple of them.”

“Whoo! Right past me.”

“They saved us.”

April looks up, examining the tarp. June glances over to the Foot Clan soldiers as they line against the wall, tied up together. They lay unconscious and beat. 

“Lets get out of here. Follow me,” April turns to June, backing to the direction of the stairs. Her hand shoots out. “Come on.”

“Are we following the tarp?” June asks behind April as they’re forced into a line. The relieved but panicked chattering in the small stairwell powers over April’s response. So, she nods instead. 

The subway is loud as the once hostages escape to the surface. They push one another up the stairs and into the safety of the streets. SWAT teams meet them at the entrance, directing the people out as the rest descend down to the station.

June continues to hold onto April as they are released from the subway to the New York streets. “Which way?” June asks as April moves them around abandoned cars.

“Other side,” April answers, following the scaffolding around the building. They stay in the road because most of the sidewalk is blocked off for construction.

But they eventually turn the block to the back of the building, where the yellow tarp emerges from the subway underground. The sisters stand nearby, wondering which way the vigilantes ran off to. It’s then when June hears the faint voices coming from the roof.

“You see that? I smoked that dude! S’up?” 

“Up there!” June points, releasing April’s hand to walk toward the building. But her sister hesitates to move. June glances behind her when she doesn’t hear April follow. “What? What’s wrong?”

She can’t meet June’s gaze as she casts her eyes away. “I… I’m sorry. I put you in danger back there. I shouldn’t have...”

June walks back to April and plants her hands on her shoulders. “It’s fine, alright? I put myself in that situation.”

“No, I put us in that situation. I wasn’t thinking.”

June shrugs, “Yeah, you weren’t.” A chuckle leaves her lips—April smiles at the sound. “But I was. And I made the decision to go down there. And we made it out, so let's finish what we started.”

April nods once. “Okay, but if you really don’t want—”

June groans in April’s face. “Goodness, April O’Neil, you don’t listen. I said I want to, so let's go find your vigilante.”

“I don’t know if it's the same one from the docks,” April says as they walk toward the building wall. “There were multiple of them. You saw that, right?”

June reaches up for the fire escape ladder and yanks it down to the ground. She stands to the side to let April lead the way. “I did. But maybe there were always more. And now we can catch them all together,” June says, motioning the ladder.

April smiles shortly, walking up to June. She pinches her chin, before grabbing the bars to start her ascend. “Stay close,” she tells June.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, following April up the side of the building.

“Yeah, boys, bring it in.”

“That was amazing.”

“You were incredible.”

The voices on the roof become clearer as the distance from the ground grows further. June pants loudly as she uses the railing for leverage. April sprints up the stairs with the same set of irrational determination as the docks.

June can hear her breathing directly in her ears. The bustling streets turn quiet as her hands grab each metal rail. The celebration on the rooftop is coherent and echoes in the air.

“Great elbow, Donnie.”

“Oh, yeah!”

The final set of ladders pump adrenaline into June. She can feel him again—on the pads of her fingers. His scaly arm has faint ridges on his damp skin as he swings them across the shipping containers.

It has to be him.

April makes it to the top of the stairs, looking for June. She joins her on the platform slightly after. Her hands set on her hips as they both look up at the final ladder that leads to the rooftop.

“That's what I'm talking about! This is our city! These are our streets!”

“You mess with us, you steppin' to the whoo-TANG!” Another voice cheers, ecstatically.

April turns to June as she puffs out a breath. “I’m just going to peek.” 

June nods. “Take a picture?”

“Yeah, of course.”

June leans against the railing, still catching her breath as April starts to climb the final ladder.

“Did you see that guy’s jaw connect with the concrete?”

“He’ll be drinking out of a sippy cup for months!”

April reaches the top of the ladder, looping her arms around the poles to hold herself up. She pulls out her phone from her jacket. June stares up, watching April from below. The voices are so clear as they celebrate. She discreetly listens for the voice that claims a certain silhouette.

“That’s what I’m talking about, brothers. Like shadows in the night, completely unseen…” 

April uses her flash to snap a picture. The sound of her phone and the shine coming from her camera turns the celebratory shouts utterly silent. The only noise is April’s heavy breath. June leans to the side to question what happened.

“April?” She whispers as her sister stares out, frozen in her spot.

“What was that?”

“It's a camera flash…”

“We know it's a camera flash.”

“Who's behind the camera flash?”

“By my calculations, it's a girl.”

“Now we gotta kill her.”

“What?”

“With kindness!”

June hears the exchange on the rooftop, stiffening slightly as her eyebrows shoot up. She pats April’s ankle for her attention.

“Come on, April. Quickly!” She yells for her sister. April gulps, beginning to back down the ladder. June urges her to go faster.

“Wait there’s another voice. Another girl.”

“Two?”

“Do we kill both of them?”

“We are not killing anyone!”

“I got this.”

“Raph, no, no, no! Come on!”

June holds onto her sister’s leg as she lowers down. But April pauses—both sisters notice a long chain looped around her waist. 

“Wha—” April is suddenly flying in the air, pulled back onto the rooftop.

“April!” June yells, swiftly climbing up the ladder. She plants her hands on the concrete edge. April lands harshly on the ground, groaning as she grabs her wrist. June calls her name again as she rushes to her side.

The rooftop is quiet now. June crouches down to assist her sister. April rolls onto her side. “You okay?” June asks, examining April's state.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think,” she sighs out. 

Before June can speak again, a loud thump hits the ground in front of them. All sounds coming from the sisters are immediately silenced. The figure lands so close that the air is consumed by him. He lets out a hard, rumbling grunt as he stands up tall.

His voice startles June to her stomach, she visibly shivers. “Give me the camera,” he demands in a scarcely low tone. April blinks rapidly, trying to make sense of the sight in front of her.

“Ooh, look, he's doing his Batman voice.”

All June can do is stare, unable to speak. Her mouth is dry as she shuts her lips together. Her eyes slowly graze the length of the figure. However, it takes a while for her brain to register what stands in the dim light in front of her.

In her crouched position, June is leveled at his feet, planting heavy with weight. He shifts in his spot on two singular toes. They’re thick, splayed apart, each one bandaged and wrapped up to his ankles.

The glow of his skin is undeniably green with a faint, thin yellow stripe that bends with the shape of his foot. Solid muscle builds him up. He's lightly textured with small scales that catch the light enough to show its depth. The ridges of his leathery skin patch his entire body.

June lifts higher to his inhumane thighs, also wrapped in worn bandages. They continue the pattern of scales before it is hidden from his armored chest; his plastron. It makes sense now.

It’s a muted yellow, cracked on some edges but shape his chest and stomach into hard abs. A strap crosses over his body to the back of his shell to holster his gear. 

June gazes at his hands. They’re large, doubtlessly strong as his three fingers flex. There’s tension in them as he grips his short swords in his hands, prepared to strike. June leans back as he brings his weapons closer. 

Her eyes run up his arms, thick bumps of scaly muscles protrude as he bends them. The feeling in June’s fingers tingle as she stares at his bicep. Most of his forearm is wrapped in more bandages to the tips of his fingers.

His growl brings her eyes to his shoulders that stretches him wide—a dark, heavy shell hovers over his frame. The curve of the shell is the same as when she looked up at him nights ago.

He stands massive and imposing, forcing shadows over June. She’s submersed in the darkness he keeps her in.

“Ooh, they’re so hot, I can feel my shell tightening.”

“We can hear you!” His voice rumbles with annoyance as he looks back. It’s only for a moment before he turns back to June and April. Still, it gives them time to stumble up to their feet. April keeps June slightly behind her, grabbing her hand.

The tall figure’s jaw ticks—his head tilts forward into the light.

The red mask across his face, stark against his green skin, is prominent to June’s focus. A pair of sunglasses casually sit on his forehead. The worn fabric of his red mask place over his eyes and his rounded head. The tails of the mask trail behind him—one of them resting on his collarbone.

June’s gaze draws to his eyes. But she doesn’t look at them for long. His stare is too intense, guarded as he scans her, unblinking. They narrow neither soft nor friendly. It doesn’t feel safe, like the look she received at the docks.

But his eyes have the same glow. They’re a conjunction of yellow and green, fighting for dominance. They stare down on her, beautifully firm with anger.

April sucks in a breath, bringing June back to reality. She shakes her head awake but finds her attention still on the figure in front of her. And it finally dawns on June who she’s looking at. What she’s looking at:

A six foot something walking, talking turtle.

“If you don’t give me the camera,” he starts to speak again, slower. His upper lip has a deep scar cutting through it. “I’m gonna—”

“Enough!” Another stern voice cuts him off. April and June’s head shoot away to a figure flipping off a water tower. He appears from the shadows and lands onto the ledge, on the other side of the sisters. They spin around to face him, now surrounded and trapped on the rooftop.

A shorter turtle but just as large holds two sharpened swords as he shatters the concrete under his feet. He stands tall, peering over the sisters to the other turtle behind them.

“Back off, Raph,” he scolds the red-masked turtle. June glances over her shoulder, cautiously, as the broad turtle raises his hands defensively and backs away.

“I only saw Batman once,” he mutters.

June lands her eyes on him, and the red-masked turtle meets her gaze. His eyebrow muscle lifts, challenging June silently. She inhales, quickly darting her eyes back to the other turtle.

This one wears a blue mask and covers his plastron with wooden armor to resemble chest plates. He has leather shoulder pads to widen his frame, and a samurai type kilt wraps around his waist.

He speaks up, startling June out of her head. “Ma’am, and uh, other ma’am, hello. I apologize,” he says formally, with a slight bow to his head. He jumps down from the ledge to the rooftop, leveling with June and April. But his height still towers over them. 

He takes slow steps toward the girls, stalking closer. “My colleague here forgot to say please. So, would you please hand over the camera?” He asks politely, which contradicts the threatening frown on his face.

June can feel April panicking against her. She heaves with her whole body, tightening her hand in June’s hold. She takes cautious steps back and brings June with her. 

“What do we do?” June whispers with her teeth clenched. The sisters continue to stare at the blue-masked turtle in astonished fear. 

With another step back, April bumps into a solid chest. She yelps, scaring June as well, as they both spin around to a third turtle. He grabs onto April’s arms before she falls. But it only frightens her more and she can’t catch her breath. Her lungs start to work overdrive as she hyperventilates.

The orange-masked turtle stands shorter than the others. His height doesn’t feel as looming, and his genuine apologetic expression for startling them is calming.

“No, no, no! Whoa. Whoa. Chill. It's just a mask,” he reassures April with a friendly smile. June grabs April, snatching her from the turtle's hold. “See? Don’t freak out,” the turtle says, as he reaches back to undo the knot of his mask. 

He holds the orange bandana up and reveals his light green scales underneath. The features of his face replicate the sort of mutation between a human and a turtle. His teal, oceanic eyes crinkling at the sisters as he looks at them, “Right?”

June notices April begins to wobble. She stiffens, holding her sister up before she topples over. "April?" June checks on her, concernedly. When she turns her to the side, she watches April's eyes start to roll back. Her breathing comes out at a rapid speed, before it suddenly stills and she collapses to the ground, slipping from June's grasp.

“April!” June yells as her sister falls unconscious. However, her breath has thankfully gone back down to its normal rate. 

“Oh, I think that went well.” A different, higher pitched voice appears at June’s side. “She totally didn’t freak out.” June glances over at a fourth and final turtle, a purple mask hidden behind a thick pair of glasses. He is notably skinner than the other three with a slender and longer limbed body.

His shell is mounted with numerous pieces of tech, devices toppling on top of one another. 

June stares at him, wide-eyed, as he crouches down and places a hand on April’s shoulder. He looks over at June, noticing her gawking at him, flabbergasted. 

He waves shyly, “Sorry about that. Nice to meet you.” June continues to stare at him in shock. The purple turtle clears his throat, using his free hand to drag his tech goggles that sat on his forehead over his eyes. “I’m just going to make sure your friend is okay,” he tells June.

“My… my sister,” June finally speaks.

The other turtles walk over to surround June with their larger bodies engulfing her in their shadows.

The purple-masked turtle smiles sweetly at June. “Oh, well that makes more sense. I should have known. You two look just alike,” he mentions. The corners of June’s lips begin to raise.

There are quiet conversations behind June. She looks over her shoulder at the three other turtles watching their fourth check on April.

The red-masked turtle, arms crossed, plays with a toothpick in his mouth. He was watching June, gazing at her with muted curiosity. She catches his stare and holds it for a moment longer than she should've. He grunts a noise.

The blue-masked turtle approaches with April’s phone in his hand. He finds June eyeing him as he walks over. He bends down to her side. This time, his expression is soft, apologetic and concerned.

“We’re sorry for frightening your sister,” he says. June blinks at him, stunned by his flipped tone. She nods once.

“I’m not,” a harsh scoff is heard behind him. The blue-masked turtle growls under his breath, whipping his head back. “Shut up, Raph. Yes, you are.”

The red-masked turtle rolls his eyes, turning his body away. 

“It’s fine. We were just surprised, is all,” June says, quietly. She tries to keep eye contact so she doesn't creep him out with her thirst to explore his frame. She has a lot of questions that need to answer how.

“I bet,” the turtle chuckles. “Not everyday you see… us.”

June giggles softly. “Yeah. Not really.”

They both look down at the phone in the turtle’s hand. “We really can’t have your sister walking around with our picture on her phone. Think you can understand why?”

“I can delete it,” June offers with her hand out. But the blue-masked turtle doesn’t return it, staring at her open palm.

“Actually, I’m going to have my friend here do it. Just to be sure.” He motions his head to the purple-masked turtle waving again.

June snorts a laugh, and the turtles widen their eyes at her. “What? You don’t trust me?” she underscores a tease.

“Hell no,” the red-masked turtle speaks up again. June fights a snarl in his direction. She simply looks over at him. “Your nosey sister shouldn’t have been taking pictures of us in the first place.”

Before the blue-masked turtle could scold him, June comments first. 

“No need to be rude about it. We were just threatened at gunpoint and forced to the ground when a group of shadows swoop in and single-handedly take down all of those Foot Clan soldiers before suddenly disappearing. We were curious and—”

“Well, curiosity kills the cat, doesn’t it?” He seethes.

“Oh, so you’re gonna kill me? Over a simple picture? Or are you just mad she didn’t get your good side, huh? You big baby,” June stands up her full height, even though it doesn’t make her any taller. The red-masked turtle still dominates over her. And he smirks at June’s effort to intimidate him.

He moves forward, invading June’s space. His large crossed arms bump into her chest. She reflexively steps back to catch herself.

“Chill, Raph. She’s just messing with you,” the orange-masked turtle puts a hand out. “This little dudette’s got some spunk. I like her!”

“Mikey, shut it,” the blue-masked turtle, June deems as their leader, snips at him. “And Raph, cut it out. We’ll erase the picture and everything will go back to normal, okay?”

The red-masked turtle chews on his toothpick, ignoring the blue's attempt to assure him. June doesn't look away from his hard glare. She has gained some confidence and can’t let it waver now. 

“Yeah, Raph,” she taunts in his face, playing with his name. “Listen to your buddy.”

“You picking up a fight, little girl?” The red-masked turtle starts to growl, his plastron growing in size as he sucks in a breath. June hesitates for a moment, unable to read his language.

“Yo, yo, Raph!” The orange-masked turtle comes to June’s side, placing a three fingered hand on his partner's plastron. “She’s not trying to pick a fight, dude. You are.”

June backs away, letting the orange-masked turtle calm the other down. She didn’t mean to rile him up into a defensive stance. And she obviously can’t win in a physical fight against a six something foot turtle with a weapon. 

She finds the purple-masked turtle with April’s phone in his hand. He presses at the screen, his tongue poking out of his mouth. The blue-masked turtle stands beside him. He monitors June to make sure she doesn’t argue with them.

“We’re just erasing the picture, that’s all. Then we’ll be out of you and your sisters’ hair,” he explains. 

Speaking of April, she lets out a groan, moving slightly on the floor. June crouches down to her side. “April?” she calls her name with a shake to her shoulder. “Wake up.”

The purple-masked turtle returns to June’s side. “She’s going to be fine. She’ll wake up in a minute,” he tells June, reassuringly.

She looks over at the purple-masked turtle, bowing her head. “Thank you.”

“No problem, June,” he smiles back. The girl freezes in her spot, suspicious of how her name is known.

“Wait, how’d you—”

“Oh, sorry,” the purple-masked turtle scratches the back of his neck, “my goggles gave me a little information when I hacked into April’s phone. Just your names, I swear.”

The blue-masked turtle stands behind June, taking louder steps to avoid scaring her in the process. “Wake her sister up, Donnie, so we can leave.”

The purple-masked turtle nods, leaning over April, holding her collarbone to shake.

June takes the chance to look at the other two turtles. The orange-masked turtle sits casually on the ground, wrapping the chain hanging on his neck around his finger. When he catches June’s eye, he winks at her.

She smiles back before moving her attention over. It slides to the last turtle, leaning against the water tower further back.

He’s already watching June, eyeing her with an indecipherable expression. He bares his teeth as he fiddles with his toothpick. The frame of him with the light dawning on his back to force a dark silhouette brings June’s mind to another night.

A loud breath leaves its nose, content, before releasing June from its hold. It climbs to the top of the containers to tower over June. It doesn’t leave. Even as June looks up at it with widened eyes—blinking the rain away as best as she can.

“Question for you,” she directs to the red-masked turtle. He cocks his eyebrow muscle up. He glances over his shoulder, wondering who she speaks to. June starts to chuckle. “Yes, you. The short tempered one.”

His eye twitches. “No, thanks,” the turtle growls, “I’d rather not.”

June frowns slightly. 

The blue-masked turtle stands beside June to defend her. “Don’t be rude, Raph.”

He throws his arms in the air. “Why is everyone suddenly taking her side? These two show up out of nowhere, take a picture of us like we’re freaks to show—“

“That’s not true,” the orange-masked turtle cuts in. “She told us they were just curious of who saved them.”

“Yeah, and you’d be the one to believe that garbage, Mikey,” the red-masked turtle shoots back. “You don’t even know her,” he barks, pointing at June.

“It was just a question,” June says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to rile you up. But it seems like I’m being a bother.”

“Glad you noticed.”

June tilts her head to the side, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Good thing I like being a bother.” The orange-masked turtle cackles, pointing teasingly at his short tempered partner. “Do you enjoy throwing shipping containers at Foot Clan soldiers, by any chance?” June asks, hands clasping behind her back.

The red-masked turtle pauses in his spot. The rest of them turn to him. 

“Why’d you ask?” the purple-masked turtle questions June. “That’s oddly specific.”

She shrugs, staring down the brute figure. “I don’t know. He just looks like the type to ambush a Foot Clan attack by using a shipping container to smack them into the river.” His eyes narrow at her.

“Stop talking to me, will ya?” He demands, turning away. “I’m about to leave. Let’s hurry this up, Donnie.”

With the command, both the purple and blue masked turtles lean over April to attempt to stir her awake.

The orange-masked turtle slides to June’s side with an amused smile. He bumps his shoulder with hers, getting close enough to share a secret. “I think I know what you’re talking about, dudette. And yes, is the answer,” he whispers. 

Her eyes widened at him. “Really?”

“So you’re her, huh?”

“Her?” June hums. “I don’t follow.”

“You’re the—“

The dominating shadow of the red-masked turtle hovers over his partner, snarling at him. “Do me a favor and stop being a big mouth idiot.” He grabs the orange-masked turtle by the edge of his shell and drags him away. His eyes glare at June for a quick second.

“Rude,” June mutters, turning back to April. 

But thanks to the orange-masked turtle, it’s all she needs to know. 

She's found her vigilante. Her brute vigilante. 

June still hasn’t told April that she secretly accompanied her to the docks. And has also met the vigilante she is now set on revealing. If June told April about her interaction, maybe they could uncover the enigma together. However, June doesn’t want to partake in another one of April’s obsessions and spiral down a hole with her. Because then who would keep them above water?

Besides, this vigilante doesn’t want to be discovered as it hides in the shadows and only appears when necessary. So hopefully with this tactic, April won’t find any more evidence of its identity. And June can forget the look it gave her.

The quiet apartment echoes June’s footsteps throughout the open space. The door to April’s room is ajar, and as she peeks inside, she finds it empty. Her search continues with a blanket around her shoulders to contain the warmth inside.

A ray of sunlight strikes into the living room, where June explores next. “April?” She calls aloud without receiving an answer back—not to any surprise.

When she walks into the kitchen, a note sits on the counter. The handwriting with small stars surrounding the text is undeniably April’s doing.

Running to the Channel Six building early to report the Foot attack last night. Call you later! We love you, Juno <3 April x

June instinctively scoffs at the first part of April’s note. She holds back from rolling her eyes as well. June could cringe at the thought of April bursting through the Channel Six doors and blurting her irrational run in with the Foot. She knows her coworkers aren’t the nicest, and may see April as annoying. And this Foot Clan story won’t be helping her case.

But June still smiles at the rest of the note. She doesn’t get them often because she and April usually leave in the morning together. The Channel Six building is only a few blocks away, and so is June’s school in the same direction.

While April was away at school, she would send text messages to June, encouraging her to do her very best. They were short, motivational quotes that could be found on the walls of a classroom. 

It took June a while to break the news to April that her quotes were kinda embarrassing. But then, they turned into simple, loving messages with a reminder of how much April and her parents love June—no matter the distance.

They would always end with: We love you, Juno. 

June wishes she had sent April those same kinds of messages back. Because between the two of them, April deals with the hefty death of their parents harder. She was present for both of their passings while June was too young to register the reality of the situation.

April doesn’t like to go into detail about their father’s death, but June knows the laboratory was set on fire by the Foot Clan with their father trapped inside. Stuck in a corner, millions of dollars worth of equipment and files burning around him. June can only imagine the panic on her father’s face as he yells for April to escape the building.

The only thing that survived the fire was their father’s experimental animals. April almost ran past them but swiftly grabbed them from their tanks and ushered them to a storm drain by a sidewalk. She didn’t know what the animals were being tested for but their father still cared for those animals. So, April gave them the best chance of survival and set them free.

June leaves the note on the counter as she heads back into her room to get ready for the day. She puts on a new documentary she found recently on orca whales, her favorite oceanic creature, to play in the background.

Her phone buzzes in the midst of her applying mascara to her eyes. She pauses the documentary to read a text from April.

March ;P - Hey, are you getting ready?

Juno <3 - i am

Juno <3 - how did your report go?

March ;P - Probably how you expected it to go…

Juno <3 - wonderfully?

March ;P - Har har

March ;P - I’ll tell you about it later, lmk when you make it to school

Juno <3 - will do

June likes to watch April’s portion of the daily news. She’s usually on live during her homeroom class. So, as June sits on the bean bag chair her teacher allows them to use before the period starts, she giggles at April in Times Square reporting the chaos of tourists visiting New York City for spring break.

June immediately notices the slight frown on April’s face that she attempts to push down while she speaks to the camera. She knows April’s boss at Channel Six didn’t take the report on the Foot Clan well. But who would? A vigilante stops a terrorist group attack by throwing shipping containers at them but having no evidence on who the vigilante could be or what they may look like.

However, June does. She could tell April about the interaction she had with the vigilante. She could tell Channel Six that it’s true—it did pick up a shipping container and threw Foot Clan soldiers into the river. She came into contact with it and stared into its glowing eyes. After it saved her from the Foot Clan.

The problem is, this vigilante wouldn’t be the easiest to describe, and neither pragmatic, because June still isn’t completely convinced it’s even human. But then what else could it be?

June watches the rest of April’s segment until homeroom ends and her teacher asks the students to return to their seats. She pulls out her notebook, a hand drawn turtle shell covered in pastel flowers and veins on the front. Her world history teacher starts to review their homework, and June pokes her knuckles into her cheek as she strolls her mind again to the events of last night.

And the ridges of the arm that held her against its armored chest.

When lunch comes around, June casually sits alone at one of the benches outside the school building to eat. She continues to watch Channel Six as she waits for April’s call during her own lunch break. 

…after reviewing the city's soaring crime rates with the police commissioner, Councilman Dan Gregor took to the steps of City Hall, reaffirming the city's commitment to fight against the rising crime organization calling themselves the Foot Clan. He did so on the heels of a renewed contract with Eric Sacks and Sacks Industries. 

“Using the Sacks research and securities technology, this city greatly improves its chances of bringing the Foot Clan to justice!” The councilman announces into the microphone with Eric Sacks standing proudly aside him. The press conference erupts into cheers—another step forward into taking down the group that has been terrorizing their city.

June narrows her eyes on Eric Sacks as he claps along with the crowd. His smile is poised with natural confidence. 

The last time June allegedly encountered Eric was when she was a baby at her father’s funeral. She doesn’t know him but has heard his name throughout the years and knows how passionate he was about the research he worked on with her father. She respects him.

April has seen Eric many times when she’s visited the lab. He was overseeing all of the scientists’ studies, so she liked to interview him a lot. He grew fond of April.

June’s phone screen is overtaken by an incoming call. She plugs in her other EarPod and answers on the third ring. “Hello?” She speaks out loud, before grabbing a chip from the bag.  

“Hey, Juno, how’s your last day of classes going?” April exclaims on the other end.

“Fine, I guess. Haven’t really done anything besides review old homework and watch movies.” June’s eyes roam the bustling sight of daily lunch time. The soccer ball strikes through the mowed grass and passes between the players. Stories and laughter are shared around the circle the group of friends sit in. And the students engulfed in their music, eyes rested shut, ignore the football being thrown across the field. 

June stares out to watch everyone—she plays a part in the stereotypical high school scene. Another chip is popped in her mouth as April responds with a playful mutter, “Seems like you got a better day going than me.”

“And why would you say that? I thought your report on the Foot Clan and the mysterious, unidentifiable vigilante went fantastic?” 

June can hear the roll of April’s eyes. She suppresses making fun of her further. But she’s glad her point was made. 

“No one believed me or even tried to. I went all the way to the docks to give them something new about the Foot Clan, and they all just stared at me like I was—"

“Insane? Stupid? Irrational for running into a Foot Clan attack?” June cuts in, disregarding how contradicting she was because she chased after April and put herself in the same situation. At least, she wasn’t running around telling everyone about how she learned and gained nothing from doing it.

April sighs under her breath. “I tried to tell them about the vigilante and how he actually stopped the Foot. He’s real and… I saw him.”

“But you didn’t see him. You have no idea what he looks like,” June argues. “So, you went up there and gave them nothing to work with, April. That’s why they didn’t and couldn’t believe you.”

April doesn’t quip anything back—it’s quiet on the other end of the phone. It makes June cringes at her tone. She doesn’t mean to beat down on April like her coworkers probably did.

“I’m just saying, if he doesn’t want to be discovered, then let him be a vigilante, okay?” June says, softly.

“Then why did he leave behind a symbol on one of the shipping containers?”

“And what was this symbol?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had the time to do research on it yet. But I think it might be one of his calling cards. He wouldn’t have put it there if he—"

“Or maybe it was just a warning to the Foot Clan. You don’t know, April.”

“And neither do you, June.” The absence of her nickname grows tension over the phone. The sisters go quiet with hard exhales. June ticks her jaw—April presses her lips together. They stare at their contact photo for one another, the same childhood picture of themselves, and remind each other that they’re on the same side. They have to be. They need to work together.

April speaks up first, deciding to change the topic to something more lighthearted, “Anyway, do you remember Eric Sacks? I’ve spoken about him before.”

“Uh yeah, of course, I do. He was just on the news before you called.”

“Perfect, about that—Sacks Industries is hosting a charity event tomorrow night, and Channel Six will be broadcasting it.”

“Oh, does that mean you’re going to the event?” June asks, switching to taking bites of her school pizza. She glances at the time and monitors the twenty minutes she has left before she has to return to her classes.

April hums at her question, then adds, “I want you to come with.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be stuck alone with Vern,” she jokes.

“What makes you think I want to be stuck with him either?” June laughs with her, though, it’s a mere joke. June has known Vern, April’s cameraman and supposed friend, since she’s been working for Channel Six. He has become her personal chauffeur when traveling by bike wasn’t an option. And he gives incredibly bad advice for staying at the top of her class.

“So, we can not want to be stuck with him together,” April exclaims.

Vern has a habit of rambling quite a lot, especially to April. June is very sure about his evident crush on her sister. It’s why he tries to hang around so much outside of work. But hopefully during the charity event, he’ll be busy working so he won’t have time to speak to them.

“I don’t even have a nice dress for this kind of thing,” June argues while she chews.

“No worries, we can buy one after I get off of work tomorrow.”

June groans, realizing she won’t be getting out of this. “Well, then you have to make me dinner too. I want chili.”

“Deal.” June can hear the sound of April’s relieved smile. 

Before their phone call comes to an end, April asks, “Are you gonna stop by the Zoo on your way back home today?”

June nods briefly but then remembers she can’t see her. “Yeah, for a little while. I’m just going to the aquarium. Marsh was getting surgery last time I went there so I wanted to give him a quick visit,” she explains.

“Alright, tell him I said hi.” 

June smirks down at her phone. “You do know Marsh, in fact, does not like you?”

“Yeah, he told you that?” April scoffs, playfully.

“Didn’t have to,” June shrugs, “he never comes up to the glass when you’re around. He can sense your judgmental aura.”

“Whatever, I never liked turtles anyway,” April taunts.

“Yeah, right. I know you loved those turtles at Dad’s lab,” June says, her voice softening at the mention of their father and his experimental animals. They were the last memories of him. June would wonder sometimes where they might be after April saved them and if their father’s tests worked on them. Whatever those tests were.

The girls don’t know exactly what their father and Eric Sacks’ team needed the turtles and the rat for, but they did mention that they wanted to change the world. And those animals were apart of that. 

“They were the exception, though. Dad loved them too,” April says. June stays quiet, letting the moment settle. Their father loved animals just as much as he loved science. It’s why June was born with the same infatuation and curiosity for them both.

June hums as she asks, “What were their names again? You named them after painters, right?”

“Yeah, Italian Renaissance painters.”

“And what did ten year old April know about the Italian Renaissance?” June teases her.

“I guess, the painters’ names,” April answers as they laugh together. “But listen, I named the rat Splinter, so it balances out.”

“I wonder what happened to them. If they made it out of the sewers or stayed, you know?” June ponders.

“Splinter? We might have passed him on the sidewalks,” April jokes. June covers her mouth as she laughs. “The turtles? Probably in a pond somewhere. Are turtles solitary?”

“Depends on the turtle, but they most likely separated,” June says, finishing the rest of her lunch and wiping the excess off her fingers with a napkin. 

“And who knows, one of them might be Marsh. Could be why he likes you so much,” April shrugs.

“Marsh likes me because I’m awesome,” June snorts. “But no, they weren’t green sea turtles like Marsh is. They could be one of the other species, though.”

April hums. “Maybe.”

“So, the turtles at Dad’s lab liked me?” June asks, placing her elbow on the table so she could hold her chin in her palm. 

“As much as a turtle in a tank could,” April answers. “I remember this one time when we were at the lab and I didn’t finish my pizza, so I decided to give pieces of it to the turtles. I held you up while you dropped the pieces into the tank. Michelangelo climbed on top of the other three to get to them first.”

June listens to April’s story with a smile. She obviously doesn’t have memory of that time, but it’s still nice to hear about it.

“How’d you remember which turtle was which? Did they have distinct features?” June asks.

“Maybe. But Dad color coded them with stickers,” April says, then chuckles under her breath. “You liked Raphael a lot because he was red. 

“I doubt babies have favorite colors.”

“Isn’t it your favorite color now?”

June juts her lip out. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Raphael also tended to bang his hard head against the glass whenever someone came near. But when I held you to the glass, he just stared at you. I think he was intrigued. And you liked to babble at him back.”

“Marsh does the same when I talk to him. He’s a good listener.”

The groups of students that vacant the school’s yard begin to pack up and finish their games for the day. The other lunch benches around June wrap up their conversations as they grab their trays and head inside the cafeteria.

“Alright, I have to go back to class. But I’ll see you at home,” June tells April.

“Okay, have a good rest of your day. Love you, Juno,” she responds.

“Love you too.”

June smiles shortly, staring at her childhood picture with April before it disappears back to the news channel she was watching previously. She heads inside to throw away her tray and walk to her next class.

The school day comes to an end, and with no one to wish a nice spring break to, June pushes through the crowd out the front door to find her bike on the rack. Her thick hair is messily brushed back into a loose ponytail so it doesn’t get caught up in the wind. June settles on her bike and begins her journey to the zoo. 

With her annual pass as a loyal visitor, June shows her membership card with a sea lion on the front to the toll employee as she bikes through the underpass. 

The shelves of park maps stacked at the entrance are ignored as June skips down the concrete path to the aquarium. The zookeepers and staff members wave at June when they hear the familiar sounds of her keychains clanking against her book bag. Most of them are from the gift shops around the park.

June pushes open the doors to the dim lit aquarium. She gives the aquatic animals in the smaller tanks, disguised as building pillars, a short glance. The blue marquee for the open ocean exhibit encourages guests inside. 

The sheer size of the aquarium always stuns June when she enters and is engulfed by the tank surrounding her. Her fingers graze the glass as she searches for a certain sea turtle.

“Oh, hey, June,” a familiar voice calls her name. She doesn’t look back as her favorite staff member of the zoo approaches her. “Looking for Marsh?” Connor, one of the aquarium educators, stands beside June, staring out into the large tank. A school of fish swim by them.

“How was his recovery?” June asks Connor, looking over at him.

“He did great. He still has a bandage on his flipper but is swimming normally.” June nods as he speaks, relieved. 

The turtle in question appears as a pair of stingrays coast along the glass. Marsh is alone as he raises his head over the surface of the water for a breath of air before plummeting down into the tank again. He wears a bandage, as Connor mentioned, but his flipper glides smoothly through the water.

“He looks good,” June observes, taking a step closer. In the corner of his eye, Marsh spots Connor and June watching him. He takes the scenic route, traveling under a bridge of fish and cautiously around a shark before swimming up to the humans on the other side of the glass.

June’s smile starts to widen as Marsh approaches. “Hey, buddy,” she chirps with a short wave. Marsh’s bandage is small, still showcasing the patterns of his flipper. His small head turns to the side so his eye can face June and Connor. 

“He missed you,” Connor says. “Every time he sees me, he looks around for you then leaves when you don’t appear. You’re like a turtle whisperer.” To his surprise, Marsh continues to float nearby as he watches June’s hand splay against the glass.

June laughs quietly. “I am the turtle whisperer.”

“I believe you.”

Connor updates June on how Marsh has been doing as if he’s being released from daycare. But June is the only person who genuinely cares about the wellbeing of the turtle, and the others that swim on their own. 

She listens attentively, though her mind drifts to another kind of turtle. The species that lived in her father’s lab years ago. She glances over her shoulder to the archway of the open ocean exhibit where the other aquatic animals live on the other side.

“Hey, Connor. Do you guys have any red-eared sliders?”

“Here?” His eyebrows jump up. “Yeah, we have a couple; Dion and Faith are our two newest turtles. They had broken shells when they came in.”

“Really? Where are they?” June watches Marsh give her one last blink before swimming away.

“They live in our reptile exhibit in the next building over. Do you want to see them?” June nods. “Alright, follow me this way.”

Connor leads June out of the aquarium and to the reptile exhibit. He walks beside her as he asks, “Why do you ask about the red-eared sliders?”

“My sister had four turtles when she was younger—I don’t remember them because I was a baby. But when she described them, they sounded like red-eared sliders. I just haven’t done much research on them myself,” June explains.

Connor listens, humming as she speaks. “Well, I’ll show ya. I love red-eared sliders. Don’t tell Marsh that.”

June giggles, “No promises.”

The two enter the smaller building—not needing to hold an open ocean exhibit. It’s noticeably warmer and just as dimmed with an orange hue. 

Reaching one of the indoor ponds, Connor finds a spot along the railing, away from the other guests, to lean on. He dips his head to find one of the camouflage turtles crawling on a log. June narrows her eyes at the small creatures.

“These are our red-eared sliders. They look way different from Marsh, huh?” Connor smirks at June. “Smaller, for sure.”

“And their colors and their legs.”

“Exactly, they have webbed feet and claws, unlike Marsh’s flippers,” Connor says. June hones in on that feature. She watches as one of the turtles walks along the pond at its deliberately casual pace. 

Its light green skin is covered in thin, yellow stripes that run like painted lines along the neck, past the eyes to the snout. On each side of its head, just behind the eye, is an unmistakable red patch, claiming the red-eared name. It’s a decorative detail.

June zooms in on the small, overlapping scales that embed the turtle’s skin. They're subtle under the colored lines. The pads of June’s fingers twitch from the sleek look of the turtle's limbs. 

“I’m surprised April had four of them. Whatever happened to them?” Connor asks about the experimental animals from the lab.

“I… don’t know,” June drags out. Her palms turn sweaty as she stares at the turtle. She wants to push down the illogical notion taking over her mind. But it makes sense—total, unbelievable sense. The smooth, ridged scales of that turtle. It reminds her of the sleek, almost leathery skin of the arm that held her.

June’s eyes widen. Her gasp chokes in her mouth.

It can’t be.

Right?

“June, you okay?” Connor holds one of her shoulders as he glances down at her. 

She takes a wobbly step back from the railing, her vision turning hazy. Her head shakes, forcing herself to think straight. Think smart. Think realistically.

Connor is left behind as June abruptly darts out the building. She bolts to the entrance of the zoo, as far away from the exhibits as she can. The staff at the front call out her name, questionably concerned. June ignores them, curtly yelling goodbye before searching for her bike.

Her head is swelling as her feet petal themselves home. She tries to distract her mind with anything else but it's all that she’s torturedly consumed with.

Is this what April feels like with the Foot Clan?

It’s awful.

Seeing April’s bike on the rack at their apartment building indicates she’s already home. June sucks in a breath, shaking the flustered expression off her face as she heads upstairs and hopes April doesn’t suspect anything. 

June keeps her mouth shut.

The next evening, June stands in front of the mirror as she adjusts the thin straps of her dress on her shoulders. April is still finishing up her makeup so June waits in her room for the announcement that she’s ready.

The dark navy, floral pattern dress she bought earlier today stretches from the sweetheart neckline to her knees, showcasing the white heels she wears. Her upper back is covered by her auburn hair with the corset tying a bow on her lower back.

June smiles as she turns to the side, admiring the rare site of herself in a dress. Her stomach is full from the chili April made for her but it doesn’t show in the front. It makes her tempted to eat another plate.

“Juno, you ready?” April yells from the kitchen.

“Am I? I’ve been waiting for you,” June shouts back as she grabs her purse and phone, before joining her sister.

April wears a short, black dress—simpler than the one June has on. Her hair is curled and bounces as she walks around the island. “Vern is outside, let’s go.”

On the street of their apartment building parks the Channel Six News van. June crawls inside first, briefly exchanging hello to Vern and thanking him for the compliment of her appearance, before settling in the single, gray seat behind him. April sits beside Vern, closing the van door shut.

As to no one’s surprise, Vern rambles about something the whole drive. Luckily, the banquet hall the event is being hosted at is only a mere twenty minute drive away. But with New York weekend night traffic, it bumps it up to almost thirty. 

June rests her head back and faintly shuts her eyes, letting her mind race about another night. April checks on June a couple of times, but June waves her off. 

She needs to figure this out—how, was the question. She can’t contradict herself again. If she wants April to let the vigilante be a vigilante, she has to abide by that too.

If only she could see him one last time.

They arrive at the banquet hall and join the rest of the news channels to the back of the building where they park their vans and unload their equipment. June stands aside to let them work.

“Hey, muscles. Come be useful and hold this case for me,” Vern whistles June over. April snorts as she walks back to them, holding up three lanyards clipped with passes.

“I’m in a new dress and wearing cute heels, Vernon. I cannot do anything besides look pretty and drink complimentary champagne,” June speaks poshly, holding her hands together.

Vern rolls his eyes at the nickname. April slings the lanyard around June’s neck and pinches her jaw. “It’s a miracle I even convinced her to come to this,” She tells Vern as she grabs the case he holds out.

“With a food offering, I presume?” He chuckles. June scoffs, crossing her arms.

“I came here because of the kindness of my heart,” She argues, her tone blatantly bored. 

“I believe you, kid,” Vern says, shutting the van doors closed. “Alright, let's hurry up. I need a good spot or Bernadette will kill me.” Vern shivers at the thought of his boss scolding him for his poor angles. The sisters follow him inside the building.

The banquet hall can’t simply be described as grande—but that will have to do. Stones stack on the walls to rise to the high ceilings and the crystalized chandeliers that hang over the elegant guests. The beige curtains cover the large windows to contain the ambiance inside. Purple beams of light bounce off the illuminated pillars surrounding the wide stage.

There are too many tables to count, occupied by even more guests. June stands at the entryway for a moment to take in the sight. April places a hand on her lower back to guide her.

“Over here,” she whispers to June over the loud chattering. The back wall of the banquet hall is roped off for the line of news cameras—their channel stations imprinted on the side. Vern hurries to an open spot, claiming it with a tripod. He visibly relaxes as he begins setting up the rest of his equipment.

April drags a chair over for June to sit on. “How long will this even be for?” June asks before April walks away to help Vern.

“We actually arrived near the end. These people have been here for hours,” April says. “There’s maybe forty minutes left? We’re all really just here for Eric Sacks’ speech.” June nods, taking out her phone from her purse.

“Can I use my headphones?”

“Of course, I’ll be standing with Vern if you need me.” From June’s sitting height, April is able to press a short kiss to the top of her head. She smiles sweetly at her younger sister before brushing past the other news channels.

June sticks an Earbud in her ear, keeping one out to listen for her name if it were to be called. A waiter skims through the roped section to offer glasses of water, which June gladly accepts.

She plays numerous games on her phone then scrolls through the few social media apps she has to pass the time. 

It helps quite a bit because the conversations and laughter shared between the guests grow quiet inside the banquet hall when an announcement blasts through the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming the NYPD's top benefactor, Eric Sacks.

June flinches when all the guests jump out of their seats and roar with cheers. The lights laser to the podium on the stage—one of them follows a silhouette that appears from the side.

She hasn’t physically seen him since she was a baby and doesn’t even remember the interaction. But June still sits up, mouth parting, when Eric Sacks steps to the podium with his infectiously calm smile. His hair is grayer than the ones in the few photos she’s seen. The wrinkles on his face prove that fifteen years have gone by. And June’s father is stuck back there.

Eric Sacks stands behind the microphone and points out to the crowd, curtly laughing at familiar faces he’s found. June watches him, wondering if April is just as shocked as she is to see him. Even though they knew he’d be there—it’s his charity event.

“Please, please, please…” Eric attempts to quiet the clapping crowd, “sit down, sit down.” The guests follow his command and return to their seats, prepared for his speech. June takes her earbud out to listen. She sits higher in her seat.

“I have to say, it's wonderful to see so many people out here tonight, especially in a neighborhood so hard hit by the Foot's crime wave,” Eric says, his voice turning serious as it echoes throughout the room.

“Years ago, my life was touched by tragedy. I was a young scientist working with a world-class team on cutting-edge research…” Eric goes quiet. He stares out into the crowd with a quick clear of his throat. “And our laboratory was attacked, set fire to, robbed, by the cowards that call themselves the Foot Clan.”

June’s heart thumps loudly in her chest. She has to grip the back of her chair to steady herself. No one besides herself and April speak about the fire. It startles June to be reminded of that day by someone else. And to have a whole crowd pity the situation. 

A hand gently grabs June’s shoulder, making her squeal. She shoots her head to the side to find April. “Hey,” her sister whispers—her eyes turning glassy. June rolls her lips inward, standing from her seat and slipping her hand into April’s.

They give each other a supporting glance before turning back to Eric Sacks as he continues his speech. They lean on one another, in both ways.

“Several of my employees—“ Eric takes a great pause, looking almost uncomfortable with his words, “lost their lives that day.” June looks down at her heels, squeezing April’s hand. The gesture is returned back. “And it is in their honor, in their memory, that Sacks Industries, whether through Sacks Biomed, Sacks Robotics or Sacks Construction, will remain committed to keeping the city of New York, our city, safe.” The crowd begins to politely clap, thanking Eric for his declaration.

June lets out a soft exhale, releasing a breath that starts to strangle her lungs. April nudges her with her shoulder, forcing June to look her way. She nods at her sister with a smile. “It’s okay,” April reassures her.

“So whenever someone takes flame to this city, I will be there to put the fire out. And that's a promise,” Eric says, softly. His body sighs before he stands straight up again. “Thank you. Thank you.” The cheering returns, louder than before with the guests rising from their chairs. 

Eric sways at the podium and accepts the praise and flashes of cameras. He bows, thankful, before escaping the stage.

That’s when June feels April’s hand slip from hers. She walks around the red ropes and into the actual banquet. Her eyes are zoomed in on Eric as he circles the room to personally thank the guest.

“April? Where are you going?” June rushes to follow behind her as she cuts through the crowd. 

April slips into Eric’s path, and as soon as he finishes another handshake, she jumps in front of him to grasp his hand. June catches up, almost bumping into April’s back.

“Mr. Sacks! April O’Neil. You worked with my father,” April blurts with a poised smile. Eric looks startled by the sudden interaction but pauses when he hears her name.

June moves to stand beside April, embarrassed but also intrigued to meet the man that worked closely to her late father. Like she could be reconnected with him somehow from just a look at Eric.

“Oh,” he sighs, placing his free hand on top of April’s. “I can’t believe it. I haven’t seen you since…” 

“Since his funeral,” April finishes for him with a slight shrug. “It was a long time ago,” her voice falters. 

Eric nods, looking down for a moment of silence. When his eyes slide back up, they fall on June. She simply stares back, not knowing what to say. But when Eric glances at April then back at June and connects the dots, his mouth parts.

“Are you… little Juno?” Eric asks in disbelief.

June smiles, flustered. “Yeah. Well, not so little Juno anymore.”

“I know. It's, wow... you look just like your father. It's beautifully uncanny,” Eric continues to stare at June, completely stunned. He grabs June’s hand to also hold. She takes it, gracefully.

“She’s just like him as well,” April adds. “She’s hoping to get into zoology and conduct research and conservation projects for wildlife.”

June blushes, bumping April’s shoulder. “It’s a working progress. I’m only a freshman in high school.”

“But you should still be very proud of yourself, June. Your father would be so happy to hear that. He loved animals.”

“I know,” June sniffles, quietly. “Me too.”

April gains Eric’s attention again. “Uh, I just wanted to tell you that your words really resonated with me, and I hope to one day contribute to the city in the way that you do,” she tells him.

Eric smiles at her. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job. Channel Six. Very impressive, April.”

April laughs, hollowly. “Um... Thank you. It's, uh... It isn't exactly everything I anticipated it would be.”

“As long as you are true to yourself, your father will always be proud of you,” Eric tells her, then turns to June. “The both of you. I know I am.” As someone their father worked so closely with and could be categorized as an old friend, his validation warms June more than she thought. 

A guard appears behind Eric, leaning in his ear to say, “Mr. Sacks, we have to be uptown at seven.”

He doesn’t look back as he shakes the girls’ hands. “April, I’ll see you on TV. And not so little June, keep up the good work, future Zoologist.” They both wave their goodbyes as Eric is escorted away, leaving them alone in the middle of the bustling banquet hall.

June turns to April, examining the fierce gaze on her face. She takes a moment to meet June’s eyes, and when she does, the resolute stare is unyielding. “I can’t give up on this, Juno.”

But June doesn’t fight her this time. She simply shrugs. “I know.”

Because June might just be as determined to figure something out too.

If she wants to pursue her dream of becoming a zoologist and get accepted into a good university program, she can't afford to drop from the honors course.

Her pencil meticulously copies the formulas the science teacher on Youtube draws on the screen. She takes a long sip of her smoothie and hums at the finality of the long equation rather than the heavenly tastes of mixed fruit. But the chilling drink draws a groan from June as she digs her wrist into her left eye. That's usually where her brain freezes land.

June hears the front door of her older sister's New York apartment from her room. She used to live with her aunt while her sister, April, was away at college. But after April graduated and started her job at Channel Six News, she found a nice apartment in the city, and June has been living with her ever since.

April is grateful every day that June is with her—not only is she her sister, but she's also her best friend. And besides their aunt, April and June are all they have left.

"Juno, where are you?" April calls out as quick footsteps search throughout the apartment.

"In my room," June yells back with her eyes casted down on her notebook, "where else?" she adds with a quiet snort. The video is almost at an end, and so is June's chemistry brain capacity. Her strong suit has always been biology.

April appears at June's doorframe with her hand gripping the wall to stay upright. Her heavy breathing ticks June's ear, and the thump that hits the ground stops the video she's watching.

April has been following new spottings of this terrorist group, the Foot Clan, and traveling to every location they were reported to be at last. June tried to call her before she knew she'd be filming on Channel Six, but she was brushed off with a rushed text: itnerviewng at the docs. will call lager.

"So, who were you interviewing today?" June asks as April pushes her cascading hair away from her fallen face. "Finally got the Foot Clan to sit down for some coffee?"

April lifts her eyes to give her sister a glare. June simply shrugs it off.

"No, Juno. The Foot Clan doesn't just sit for coffee. I have to go to the scene and scout for information to hopefully make ends meet. It's a lot of work."

June spins in her chair to face her sister—her body shifts to one side of the armrest. A playful smirk spreads across her lips. "I know it is. But nothing is harder than portraying the true image of migration," June says as April makes her way back to her feet. She rolls her eyes at the reminder of the fitness trainer that joined her on the news earlier. "You were a very sexy seagull. I was just waiting for you to flock away." June flaps her arms like wings to mimic the workout she had seen April do on TV.

April reaches her sister's desk and plants a hand on the surface. "Oh, shut up. That's not the work I meant." Her frustration turns into a sigh. "It was so embarrassing. Four years of journalism school so I can become a sexy seagull."

"Hey, you pulled it off," June laughs. "Your boobs looked great too." That earns a slap to the back of her head, which she already expected.

Though it wasn't what April truly wanted to do, becoming a news anchor for Channel Six News was an opportunity she couldn't let down. It gave her a lot of intel and access to information she wouldn't be able to grasp as fast as a freelancer. And the job was stable, for now.

With her fifteen year old sister living with her, April wanted June to have all the things her age group would eventually ask for. So, even though Channel Six isn't her endgame, it provided the money June could use to buy a new pair of sneakers she saw all the kids at school wearing.

Ever since April lost both of her parents, she knew she couldn't lose her sister either. She kept in touch with June throughout the years away at college and took the train to her aunt’s apartment every time she had the chance to see her. To June, it had seem like her older sister just wanted to nose her business in her middle school life, but to April, those sister dates to the local ice cream shop and the competitive hours at the arcade were everything. And those moments stilled in frames by her bedside.

Now, June is only a living room away.

So, Channel Six wasn't all too bad.

“Anyway, sorry I missed your call. How was school?" April asks to shift topics. She's oblivious to the flinch June plays off from the question.

"It's alright, I was just checking in," June only acknowledges the first part.

The room goes silent—April watches her sister scratch at her eyebrow in hopes that a more important thought will interrupt this conversation. Still, she pushes for an answer. “Did you walk home with that girl you hung out with last week? Kaylee?"

"Kamie," June corrects her. “And no. We don't talk much. She’s just a class friend."

"Oh, what happened? I thought you two hung out at lunch too?"

June chuckles to herself. “Nothing happened. But the dead parents jokes over a grilled cheese lunch just weren't landing."

April turns her head away to cringe. "June..." she drags out in disappointment.

"What? She asked!" June throws a hand up. “But I, uh… I kinda did it on purpose." That perks April's eyebrow up in question.

"Why?"

"Because she only wanted to get closer so she could keep asking for my answers without it being awkward anymore." April takes a second to think about her response—then she nods, understanding where she's coming from. As much as she wants June to have friends because that's something she lacks in plenty, she also doesn’t want her sister surrounded by those who use her.

April brushes a hand over June's hair. "That's fair. Good for you, then." June released a relieved breath. She smiles, thankful, and gifts April with the chance to tell her about her day, besides what happened on TV.

The jade shade of her eyes start to lighten at June's sudden interest. She doesn't know if it's true interest but still runs with it and finds her spot on the side of June's bed.

"So, like I told you, there was another sighting of the Foot Clan," she begins, and June intuitively shakes her head at the mention of the group that has continuously attacked the city. Many can say they have never been directly affected by the Foot Clan... but the sisters in this room can.

April catches June's reaction and holds up a defensive hand. "I know, I know, but listen—“

"It's hard to, April," June sighs. "I hate seeing you chase after them."

"But you understand why I need to." Her voice faintly cracks in the end. June does know, because deep down, she wants the Foot Clan to suffer for the crime they've bestowed upon her family. She runs a hand down her face, before cupping her chin. The lift of her eyebrows signal April to continue.

Those on the Channel Six floor find the Foot Clan to be the biggest report they can release for views. Though, none of them really care about their motives or who they'll strike next—as long as they are around to broadcast the damage. But April has been the only one who wants to delve deeper into the Foot Clan, find out who their leader is, why they attack and what are they planning on doing next.

Someone's family could be caught in the crossfire like hers was.

Her breakthrough to becoming a successful journalist could really sprout from figuring out the truth behind the Foot Clan and giving the police a chance to stop them for good.

But the need to stop the Foot Clan roots so much further down than that.

"Okay, so another sighting..." June resumes April's story. Her smile tweaks up to thank her sister for listening. She shifts back in her spot on the bed and runs her hands along the fabric of her jeans.

June swivels closer to her bed, giving April her undivided attention.

"I couldn't call because I went to talk to Mr. Rivetti at the docks. He said that a bunch of Foot Clan soldiers stormed in and forced his team to the ground at gunpoint," April explains.

"Oh wow, are they okay?" June sits up in her chair with concern. April nods to reassure her, which leads June to ask. "Why were they even there?"

"They were after restricted chemicals: Benzyl Cyanide and some deaminating agents—"

"Wait, deaminating agents?" June repeats out loud in thought. She's learned about those in her chemistry class. "Aren't those used in genetic research? They cause mutations." April stares longly at her sister, before a grin widens on her face. She chuckles softly, making June blink questionably. "What?"

"You really are an O'Neil," April speaks, her voice brimming with pride.

June looks down at her hands, then pats at different parts of face. "Oh, was I not a moment ago?" She gasps with blatant sarcasm.

April rolls her eyes. "I'm just saying. You were never interested in chemical, genetic talk. I tried to tell you about some of Dad's old work from the lab—well, whatever I would understand. He sometimes forgot I was only ten.”

June smiles softly to underscore the envy that skims her every once in a while. She had only been to her Dad's lab a handful of times as a baby. There wasn't any recollection of that place. But April has a better memory of her times at her Dad's lab and the work he was so passionate about. She still remembers the small turtles that she sneakily fed snacks to. And the beady-eyed rat that held its paw against the glass when April was near.

And she'd always remember that day, right after her dad agreed to visit her school for Career Day, when the lab was destroyed. Her father unfortunately went down with it. June isn’t haunted with that day like her sister is.

April was glad that June had grown a curiosity for science, especially biology. She knows her father and June will never have the relationship they did, but she resembles all the great parts of him. She has his drive to learn more, his passion when she finds something to love, his empathy to help those in need, and his ambitious to make the world better.

Her dad wasn't gone because he lives through her little sister.

"Anyway, I asked Mr. Rivetti if there was anybody else trafficking those sorts of chemicals because that might be where the Foot Clan is heading next. And he said there was one other facility along the waterfront, but they're high-security. So, the Foot Clan isn't likely to strike there," April continues.

"And that's all?"

“Well, Vern interrupted my interview because we had to leave. But I called Mr. Rivetti again before I made it home. He said he has a guy name Stan, at the docks, that may have more information."

June acknowledges April’s answer with her lips pushing to the side. April gives her a knowing look—wanting her to connect what that all means. June pauses for a moment to consider that maybe April is thinking of something stupid, but she shakes the thought away. Because she can't actually be thinking that.

"So, Stan probably knows more about the attack and the specific chemicals the Foot were trying to take," June states the obvious. April nods, watching her sister's steady expression. “Alright, well, I want to ask what that means, but I'm not going to."

April groans, sliding closer to the edge of the bed to reach for June's knee. "This could be progress for me, Juno."

June shoots up from her chair, startling April. With arms crossed, she glares down at her sister, disappointment etched across her face.

"April, think about it. If the other facility is high-security, what makes you think the Foot Clan would go there? Why won't they just go back to Mr. Rivetti's dock? Maybe even tonight. Especially if they want more chemicals. You are possibly running into the middle of another attack. It's a crazy idea."

"But—"

"But what? You don't think running straight into a Foot Clan ambush is a crazy idea?” When April doesn't answer, June exhales sharply and shakes her head. "Unbelievable." She beelines out of the room.

"June—" April calls after her, trailing close behind. "I'm sure they won't be there. I just need to talk to Stan and get more information on the Foot Clan's attack.” April's voice is assuring—to whom? She doesn't know.

June turns slowly, lowering her eyebrows. "April, you've got to stop chasing danger. One of these days, you're going to get hurt."

April's head is high as she meets her sister's eyes. "That's my job, Juno.” She walks around the kitchen island to stand in front of June. She grips her shoulders, with her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm a journalist—“

"Not a detective," June quips back.

“—and I'm a bereaved daughter," April speaks over her. June’s mouth snaps shut, her eyes staring widely at her sister. April mashes her lips together, withholding a suddenly urge to cry. June blinks back. She wasn't expecting that. April clears her throat to speak again. “Maybe this is my chance to finally take them down."

June holds April's gaze for a moment, processing the gut punch to the heart. She'll never feel the same amount of grief of losing their father, but she can if she loses her sister.

Tension draws a line across her face. "I don't want you in the middle of a crossfire." June says, standing firm with her decision. "You can ask to see the camera footage or something. There are other ways to go about this." She doesn't wait for an answer. June brushes past April and through the living room to the balcony. The evening breeze filters between the holes of June’s cardigan. She finds the railing to rest her elbows on top of.

June's words land heavy on April's shoulders. She hesitates to follow June, but eventually joins her on the balcony. While June stares out at the busy city, April scans each wrinkle of frustration on June's face. She notices the stress in her eyes—worry invades the colors of them. April leans against the railing and murmurs, "All right. Fine."

Relief surges through June like a wave, though she conceals a reaction. The bustling cars and incoherent conversations below fill the noise between them. June slides her arm around the back of April's neck to pull her closer to her side.

"Thank you," she whispers to April. Without receiving a verbal reply, she feels April's arm slick around her back. There's still a waver of guilt inside June, but it's overpowered by the protective nature she has for her sister.

April speaks first—it surprises June. "We should go out to eat. Pizza?”

June pulls back to look at the side of April's face. Her tone is soft, "Yeah, sure! We haven't gone to Catalina’s in a while. I've been so buried in schoolwork, and you've been—“

"Chasing for a stupid headline about the Foot Clan," April cuts in, her voice dry. She leans forward over the railing to escape in the breeze. June looks out at the view—that alone can be enough to soothe most worries. Not all the time.

"It's not stupid, April," June corrects her. "The Foot Clan is actually a very serious headline. And I don't want you putting yourself in danger and being on it too." April makes a short noise to acknowledge June's point, and it's enough to know the conversation is settled.

The two girls stand in silence for a while, side by side. June quietly places her hand on top of April’s on the railing and sighs. April does as well.

Despite the nine year difference between them, June and April have many similarities. With June’s looming height for a fifteen year old, she stands taller than April but still often falls under the mistake of her twin. They both have dark auburn hair that curls naturally at the ends. June had added a few sun-kissed highlights to hers from a young experiment turned lifestyle.

April has a clear blue tint to her jade eyes—a trait passed down from their mother. June used to envy her sister's eyes, especially when she stared at the family photos that decorated their entryway wall.

But then there’s one photo with a small April holding up a smaller June. And the color of their mother’s eyes smiling with the color of their father's eyes is a beautiful reminder that their parents aren't so far away. So, June wears her father's green shade of jade, carrying light and warmth, with pride.

Not having the chance to grow up with her dad made June’s heart heavy at times. But then the feeling of him close by through her mannerism, her personality, his features mimicked on her face soothes that pain June endures.

April, who still hasn't looked away from the sky rocketing buildings surrounding them, finds June's shoulder to sleep on. Busy in her own thoughts, she sighs under her breath to clue that their dad is on her mind too.

"Let's get out of here," June announces—April nods and stands up straight. "We can stop inside that weird trinket shop on the way. How does that sound, April O'Neil with Channel Six News?” June playfully tilts her head and flashes a smirk.

April laughs, a genuine one, and turns to walk inside. For those few seconds, June stands on the balcony alone. She exhales quietly and turns back to the view. Her smiles fades to sink her teeth into her bottom lip.

There are fleeting moments like this where June feels as if she shouldn’t be so harsh. April is consumed by the Foot Clan because… well, she lost her dad too. And if June wasn't so worried about April's safety, maybe she would've been in her position instead.

June doesn't want to stop April from uncovering the truth. She's just as curious as to what the Foot Clan is up to and what they were doing on that September day fifteen years back. But finding out the truth isn't worth the risk of April getting hurt. The thought of June losing April, and not stopping her, is enough to twist her stomach into knots.

With a shake of her head, the notion is pushed down for now. June lets herself focus on the pepperoni pizza she’ll share with April instead. Tonight can be a chance to reconnect—no lack of friends questions, no Foot Clan stories, no tension. Just June and April.

And to June's relief, April keeps the conversations throughout their dinner away from anything that could segue into the Foot Clan. But that didn't mean she wasn't thinking about them. June can read her sister like a book. Even though April was present in her body, she was distant in her head. Her responses turned dry with her eyes often drifting away to escape into her thoughts.

June knew she wasn't doing it on purpose, so she didn’t want to shatter the nice night by mentioning it.

While on the walk back to their apartment, June nudges her hip against April's. She breaks the lull, "You can tell me what's on your mind. I'm here to listen. I don't want you shutting me out."

April gives her a brief smile and waves her off. "I'm fine. I actually wanted to ask you about—“

June obliges to her dodge, letting the conversation shift to spotlight her. It allows April to walk in silence and occasionally quip a comment.

When they arrive home, April tosses out a casual suggestion to watch a movie. June is quick to agree because she's still convinced she can make April forget about the temptation to return to the docks tonight.

The girls curl up together on the couch, flipping through multiple streaming services to eventually settle on a Fast and Furious movie. They don't know which one but Vin Diesel is in it so they don't care.

Still, the tension is lingering in the room, unable to find the door out.

For most of the movie, June tries to ignore the way April stiffens, the unreadable furrow of her eyebrows, the rhythmic taps to her thigh. But eventually, it starts to get under her skin.

June groans, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. Before April can protest, June turns to face her. "Just say what you want to say, April. Jeez," she whines. "If you want to talk about the Foot Clan, then let's just do it."

April wears a look of faux confusion. "What do you mean?" she asks, gesturing toward the TV. "I'm watching the movie."

June's eyebrows raise, unimpressed. She lets out a puff to regain her faltering composure. She blinks at April. "I assume Stan works the night shift."

April takes a second to understand, then nods. "Yeah."

"So, he's still there. At the docks?"

“I don’t know.” June shifts her eyes away to think. April uses the silence to say, "Why are you asking?"

"Because you're still distracted about this docks thing. I can see it all over your face. I could tell during dinner too," June says with a short, exasperated laugh. "You're twenty-four years old, April. I can't stop you from leaving if you really want to go. I was just hoping you’d realize on your own that it isn't the smartest move."

April sighs, leaning back against the couch. "I know it isn't," she replies simply, her eyes fixed on the paused screen.

June scoffs at her response: That's it? She feels her irritation scratching beneath her skin. She tried—all the warnings, all the concerns, all the pleading. And in the end, April's hatred for the Foot Clan will always matter more.

"Fine," June mutters, standing abruptly from the couch. "If you know it's not a good idea and still want to go, then I'm done arguing about it. I have homework to finish."

Before June makes it out the room, April grabs her arm to stop her. "I'm not trying to argue with you. I'm sorry, Juno," April says quietly.

June turns slowly to face her. April stands with a deep frown tugging at her features. She repeats again, "I'm sorry, okay?"

"You don't need to apologize," June says, trying to hold the frustration in her voice at bay. "If going to the docks and checking out the scene is what you really want to do, then go. I understand—probably the most."

They stare at each other for a long beat. June’s head tilts down slightly from their height difference. Her eyes narrow, so does April’s. They read one another, a soft challenge.

"I'm not going," April speaks with finality.

June lifts an unconvinced eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah," April shrugs. "I'll stay."

June holds her gaze for another second, before eventually waving April off with a skeptical scoff. She releases her arm from April's grasp and turns away to walk to her room. “Fine. I’ll be doing homework.”

This time, April lets June go. She exhales a humph as June marches to her room and closes the door behind her. April stands alone in the living room, arms crossing as her mind fights an itching urge. 

June, on the other hand, leans her ear against the door to listen to the movement on the other side. She doesn’t believe April for a second. The flicker of curiosity; the silent brewing of a plan—it was written all over April’s face. And June knows her sister a little too well.

June listens to the pacing of April’s footsteps, attentively. There’s annoyed, incoherent muttering. Then it’s a short sigh. Followed by the sneakily shut of the front door. April’s decision is quiet but obvious. June’s teeth grind as she slams her hand against the door.

Of course.

June waits in her bedroom for a few beats to create some distance before she’s traveling downstairs behind her sister. She pushes the main doors of the apartment building open, immediately noticing April’s bike gone from the rack. June instinctively pinches the bridge of her nose, irritated. “What an idiot,” she huffs out loud, before walking over to her own bike.

April’s heedless action leads June into a downpour of rain. Her hair instantly soaks up the storm and patches to the sides of her face. June slicks the sticky strands back as she unlocks her bike and settles on the wet seat.

The sky is dark, dominating the night with a lack of stars to light a path. It creates the ambiance for the situation June has now put herself in. She swiftly blinks the rain away from her eyes as she begins petaling her way in the direction of the waterfront—in hopes to catch up to April and make sure her sister doesn’t do anything stupid. 

The night hums quietly as most have already found themselves in bed. For the city that never sleeps, the rain has run them off to the warm, dryness of their homes. Still, June continues to ride in the eye of the storm.

She shockingly finds April after only a few blocks and decides to craftily follow close behind her to the docks.

Her older sister, a distracted frown etched on her face, bikes through the puddles and pebbles of raindrops. June moves her legs faster to keep up. She cautiously releases a hand from the bike handle to hover over her eyes.

The rain picks up, warning the girls to turn back. April swiftly swipes the water from her face and takes a final sharp turn to the waterfront. June sucks in a breath when the fluorescent lights from the docks appear. They shine on mountains of shipping containers and vacant cranes.

April trails along the chain-link fence, quietly peering through the slots for any movements. June lays her bike against an unknown wall and decides to stalk her sister on foot. She watches as April abruptly stops and leans against the fence to stare out onto the dock. Her hand blindly digs into her pocket for her phone and enters a number.

“What are you doing?” June questions April to herself as she steps closer but still out of sight. She keeps her hand over her eyes to block the new angle of the rain hitting her face and blurring her vision. June internally hits herself for not grabbing a jacket but then remembers why she even obtusely ran outside in the first place.

Chasing after her irrational older sister.

April brings her phone to her ear and impatiently waits for the person on the other end to answer. She glances to her sides in both directions, but June is quick to hide in the shadows of the bearing wall and submerse herself in the darkness.

“Chris! Chris, it’s April,” she whispers a yell into the phone. “I’m at the docks—no, no! I need a camera crew—“ The call is abruptly put to an end. April pulls her phone back and growls at it.

There is a crowd of low voices exchanging words to one another on the other side of the fence. It catches both June and April’s attention. The rain crashes harder, turning those voices incoherent. But it doesn’t hide the fact that it’s undeniably the Foot Clan. June’s jaw drops in astonishment.

She's never seen them in action before. Solely on the news. 

April lifts her phone up again and points it to the silhouettes that pass under the stadium lights before disappearing into the night. They are dressed entirely in black, hiding behind the frowning masks they wear. April’s phone attempts to make out the scene through the crashing pour of rain but it’s barely perceptible. She groans and decides to stow her phone away in her pocket.

June monitors carefully, her eyes sliding between the Foot Clan behind the fence and her sister who ponders her next move. April looks around once more. June stills in her spot as April’s eyes brief in her direction. Her teeth play with the skin of her lip as she thinks aloud. June watches her and only relaxes when April turns back to the fence.

There is a moment of contemplation as April observes the Foot Clan carrying out their previous mission. There is loud movement and shuffling on their end. They pass boxes between each other under the light. The others stand guard, holding their guns lowered but alert. 

That's when it dawns on June—the weight of the situation. She needs to get April home, even if it means she has to hear a lecture about following her to the docks. June decides to give up her hiding spot and reveal herself. But that decision comes too late as April starts to climb the chained fence. Her bike falls on its side, left unattended.

The loud downpour of rain cancels out June’s voice as she calls out for her sister to stop. She attempts to yell her name again while running across the street to reach the fence. 

April’s body is pumping with reckless determination as she fiercely climbs to the top. She doesn’t even notice June chasing after her as she swings her legs over to the other side and stealthily lands back down to the ground.

“What is wrong with you?” June whines with no receptor to her question. Her fingers and shoes poke through the chains as leverage to climb up. When her arms reach the top to rest for a moment, she takes the opportunity to glance down. But April is already gone out of sight. 

June drops back to the ground, groaning at the impact. She grabs onto the fence and crouches while regaining her breath. April has disappeared somewhere—the dock being surrounded by hundreds of containers with pockets of darkness hidden from the lights.

“No, no, no. Where are you?” June starts to panic, frantically whipping her head around for a clue of where April might have went. But when the sounds of voices creep closer, June has no choice but to bolt across the open area to the maze of shipping containers. 

Her body braces against one of the containers—the wet and flat surface hard to hold onto. June cautiously peeks her head out to the Foot Clan continuing to pass boxes and stock them into the back of their trucks. The guards point their flashlights like lasers across the dock, cocking their guns up to any sudden noise.

June flinches back down, holding her chest as she tries to think of how she’ll find April now. But her thoughts are interrupted by quick, pounding footsteps above her. They jump from one container to the other, and as June gapes up to the noise, a large silhouette flies over her head in a single blink. The rain forces June’s eyes away, unable to make out the person.

“April?” She asks out, questionably. 

June hears the abrupt authoritative voice of a woman ordering the Foot Clan around. She decides to peek out again. The sight of a short, red-highlighted ponytail makes June shrink smaller in her spot. The woman’s shadow bounces off the containers and her commands strike through the heavy patter of the rain. 

Another loud thump over June’s head catches her attention. She uses her arm to shield her eyes from the rain as she looks up again. The sound is closer but so brisk that June is unable to figure out where it’s coming from.

She becomes distressed, worried someone might’ve seen her and is watching her from above. But a beam of light shines over June as confused Foot Clan members question the sound too. She slaps a hand over her mouth to contain the loud heaving of her breathing.

“What was that?” A voice asks. June juts her head, realizing the Foot Clan don’t know who claims the loud thumps over her. They laser their flashlights across the tops of the container. The dock grows quiet over the rain as everyone listens out for those same heavy footsteps.  

Nothing follows. It’s gone. June’s shoulders sigh in relief.

But a deafening crash points the attention to a body smacking against one of the metal shipping containers. A Foot Clan member drops his gun as he’s slammed to the ground, his yelp cut short as he passes out. No one has time to react before the member beside him meets the same fate. He hits the container across from him with the same amount of inhuman force. June gasps as the condition he’s left in, unmoving.

Another member points his gun to a figure sprinting in his direction before it’s snatched from his hands. He’s lifted and thrown out of sight, but his yell lingers in the open area. 

June’s ear perks up at the hefty footsteps running across the containers. She catches sight of the figure jumping over her again—a sharp slice of a weapon follows before the light can make something out of it.

“What the—“ June’s head swivels to a new sound. The loud, grinding of a shipping container being pushed against the ground. It starts to turn slowly with no evidence of a crane moving it. The Foot Clan members point their guns at the conscious container, taking cautious steps back.

June’s mouth is left agape as her feet start to back her away as well. She scans around the docks for a new place to hide as the scene unfolds a little too close to her. She grazes her hand along each shipping container she shields behind. 

The light is limited as June maneuvers to a slim fit between two new containers. April is still nowhere to be found, probably hiding from the Foot Clan herself.

The attention is back on the moving shipping container as its suddenly being lifted off the ground. It lets out a harsh, masculine, grunt before it’s being thrown across the dock and smacking into numerous Foot members. They flail in the air before dropping into the dark depths of the river.

Just after the first container dents into the floor, another one rises to fly at more Foot Clan members. The end of the container lands on top of one of their vehicles, setting it off. 

The authoritative voice of the woman from earlier yells out, “Retreat. Retreat!” She and the rest of the Foot Clan make a run to their vehicles. They scatter like ants with alarmed glances over their shoulders. They duck and dodge another potential attack from someone they can’t even see.

June holds herself up against a container, trying to blend in with its solid wall when she notices some Foot Clan members rushing her way. Her head whips in the other direction of the skinny pathway she hides in—where the rest of their vehicles are parked. 

Her heart spikes at the sudden realization, and her feet instinctively run the other way, to the end of the pathway before any members find her. When June escapes from between the two shipping container to the open area of the docks, where the lights start to beam down on her, she’s suddenly grabbed at the waist.

“Wha—“ Her voice is snatched away from the quickness she’s swept into the air. An arm snakes around her waist to clutch her securely against an armored chest. June’s hands reflexively grasps onto the arm holding her. She immediately notices the scaly surface of the arm—it’s damp from the rain and almost rubbery as it flexes against June. 

She hears a frustrated growl from the armored chest as it sprints across the shipping containers hidden from the light. The speed at which it moves them frightens June to squeal. There’s a brief and unbelievable moment where she can see the city line between the high leaps to the next piled containers.

The strange, scaly figure that holds June sneaks them between another pair of shipping containers to a new hiding spot. A loud breath leaves its nose, content, before releasing June from its hold. It climbs to the top of the containers to tower over June. It doesn’t leave. Even as June looks up at it with widened eyes—blinking the rain away as best as she can.

A stadium light casts behind the figure, turning it into a dark silhouette. The wide shape of the figure doesn’t feel human to June. It carries something bulky on its rounded back—but it’s too big to be a backpack. It looks apart of the figure. 

A face can’t be made from the stadium light pointing at June, but she can still see the bright glow of its eyes. The two stare at one another for a long second. June can feel the beating of her heart—she can hear it over the rain.

June doesn’t realize she yells out a, “thank you!” until the figure flinches. Her mouth snaps shut, worried she scared it. But the figure recovers just as quick with a roll back of its shoulders and a slight tilt of its head. Two sharp weapons swing along the figure’s side, tucked into a sort of belt.

A quiet mutter is heard before the figure decides to leave June, prompting her as safe, and finds its way back to deal with the Foot Clan on the other side of the docks.

June turns her head to acclimate to the new location she’s in. She walks to the end of the containers and is met with the chain-link fence that surrounds the docks. She grasps onto the chains and presses her head against it.

“You better be safe, April,” she whispers, cursing at the situation they’re in. And then she begins to climb to escape the scene. She glances over her shoulder from the top of the fence and does a quick sweep of the area.

The Foot Clan have made it to their vehicles and fled in different directions. The figure that saved June doesn’t reveal itself again, probably leaving the docks itself since the Foot have scattered away.

And still no sight of April. June huffs under her breath, hoping April has made the smart move to leave too. 

June uses the trail beside the fence to find her way back to her original hiding spot. She picks up her abandoned bike and cycles her way home, panting loudly and spitting out the rain caught in her open mouth. Her legs grow heavy and tired but she continues to petal as fast as she could.

When she makes it back to her building, she quickly locks up her bike and rushes up the stairs to her apartment. She pushes the door open, immediately calling out, “April? Are you here?” But silence, and the dripping of her wet clothes, answers her back.

June walks further into the apartment, searching each room for a sign of her sister. While doing so, she digs out her phone and dials April’s number. 

Her phone continues to ring as she impatiently paces the length of the living room. April doesn’t pick up after numerous tries and a threatening voicemail. June pushes down the urge to go back to the docks, deciding to stay home and wait for April here.

In the meantime, June strips out of her soaked clothes and changes into a dry pair. She keeps her door open to be the first to catch the sound of April’s return. She decides to give her another ten minutes before she can start to panic. 

But the time passes and June’s anticipation grows more frantic. She moves to wait in the living room, eyes peering down the front door. 

As June goes for her phone to attempt to call her sister again, the door suddenly unlocks and panting footsteps run inside. 

“Juno? June?” Her body physically sighs at the sound of her sister’s voice. June leaps up from the couch to meet her halfway.

April darts into the living room, drenched in rain. Her hair is slicked back and showcases the light makeup slowly streaming down her face.

“April, what the hell happened? Where did you go?” June asks, but her question is directed to where April ran off to inside the docks and why she couldn’t find her.

“Juno, you have no idea what I just went through. I am freaking out!” April exclaims, grabbing June’s arm and shaking it. June places her hand on top of April’s with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah, I didn’t realize you left.” June feigns a frown. “What did you see?” She prompts April to continue as if she didn’t witness the same thing.

April steps back to peel her leather jacket off as the rain made it heavy on her shoulders. Her eyes turn thrilled as she stares at June. “Okay, don’t get mad about what I’m—“

“Too late for that,” June grumbles.

“Fine, whatever, but listen,” April waves her anger off, before taking a deep breath. “I just saw a Foot Clan attack.” June blinks back a true, shocked look. She was undeniably there as well, but the reality of it all startles her.

“Are you okay?” June asks April. Her sister nods as she bends down to untie her boots. “Okay. So, what happened?”

"I was riding my bike by the docks. It's night, it's dark, and there are Foot Clan soldiers everywhere," April explains, already out of breath. She shakes her boots off her feet, then her wet socks. Her bare feet dry into the living room rug.

“And…” June propels her to continue.

"Then out of nowhere, there was this... this guy fighting back against them.”

June pauses, a realization dawning on her—April must have seen the same figure that saved her. Still, she keeps that to herself for now.

So, she simply asks, "A guy? Who?” with a lift of her eyebrow.

"I don't know, but he... he left behind this symbol. And I know that I've seen it before. I can't remember where," April answers, fanning her hand around to motion the symbol she saw. "But there is someone fighting back against the Foot Clan, June.” She sucks in a sharp breath when she finishes.

“Okay…” June drags out. She thinks back to the huge footsteps and the bulky back and the scaly arm with the glowing eyes. Was this the same thing April saw? “Aren’t you a little skeptical on how a regular guy just magically took down an entire group of trained Foot Clan soldiers. Are you sure that's what you saw?" June asks her.

April huffs, placing her hands on her hips. She closes her eyes to sigh before setting them back on June again. “I know what I saw, Juno. I was there, it happened right in front of me. There is a vigilante in this city and no one knows. But I do. I know. And now I have my story. There is no more froth and foam for me," she points to herself with a proud smile.

The room goes silent. June blinks at her sister. “Froth and foam?”

April lips part before simply shutting. She shakes her head, muttering a short, “Never mind.” She excuses herself to her room to get changed. 

June stands alone in the living room, giving a small shrug. “Okay then.” She keeps her voice casual to hide the truth that she believes April, because she saw him too. That man… that thing that saved her. And yet, none of it makes sense. Why should June believe that something not human fought the Foot Clan.

But then, what kind of person could single-handedly take down Foot Clan soldiers?

That made you scoff immediately.

—Excuse me what? I’m average height.

—For humans? Maybe —he said smirking —. But you come up to, what, my ribs?

—Oh come on, shut the fuck up —you said only to see the grin of his face widening.

The thing about Raph was that he acted tough about it, but secretly he was obsessed with your size difference in the most embarrassingly affectionate way possible. For example: he’d rest his head against your back and it would nearly cover all of it; or he’d pick you up without thinking, like if it was the easiest thing in the world (although for him it really was). Sometimes he’d literally move you out of danger with just one hand while he kept fighting with the other hand like you weighed nothing (for him you didn’t tho). And every, EVERY, single time, trust me he looked unfairly pleased with himself afterwards.

One night, in the lair, you were trying to reach a mug that Mikey had left on a high shelf; your fingertips barely brushed it. Raph walked inside just in time to see you struggling to reach the mug.

—…you serious right now?

—I can reach it —you answered without looking at him; you were busy trying to reach the damn mug.

—Trust me, you’re actively not reachin’.

—Don’t you dare start —you glared over your shoulder at him.

He snorted and walked over behind you. The second he stood there, his shadow practically swallowed you whole. Then, without effort, he reached over your head and grabbed the mug between two finger and handed it to you.

—There —he said smugly.

—Thank you —you said rolling your eyes and taking the mug.

Instead of moving away, he stayed behind you for a moment, looking down at the top of your head with this stupidly fond expression. And then, suddenly, he wrapped both of his arms around you from behind. You squeaked when he effortlessly lifted you a few centimetres off the ground.

—Raph!

—What? —his voice rumbled right near your ear— You’re cute.

—Oh, I’m not cute.

—You’re tiny —he corrected himself—. Difference.

—Put me down —you crossed your arms dramatically while you dangled in his hold.

—Nah, don’t think so.

—Raph.

He buried his face against the side of your head for just a second and you felt the deep vibration of his quiet chuckle against you.

—C’mon —he muttered —. Lemme enjoy my little girlfriend.