He’s either the family’s shield (blocking Shredder from stabbing Leo in the first movie, pushing Donnie out of the tank canon's way in the second...) or its scapegoat (trying to walk away from them); there’s no in-between in his mind. His solo mission to the police station in Out of the Shadows reads like a BPD spiral: impulsive, reckless, desperate to reclaim autonomy. Similarly, in my fic, he goes solo vigilante and instigates fights in gang territories, right after Master Splinter confiscates his sai.

Leonardo:

Complex PTSD (C-PTSD) and Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD)

Why it fits?

C-PTSD:

Signs: hypervigilance (always watching and planning), guilt or shame if he fails to “keep the family together”, stoicism as a coping mechanism, difficulty relaxing or trusting others to take the lead

Leo often acts like the “parentified child.” He may not lash out like Raph, but he internalizes responsibility, tends to isolate under stress, and operates on rigid moral frameworks.

His perfectionism could be a trauma response: “If I do everything right, nothing bad will happen.”

OCPD:

Signs: fixation on rules or discipline, “my way or the highway” mentality (in my fic he immediately alienates Rosie when she questions his methods), reluctance to delegate, struggles to forgive or forget mistakes (especially his own)

OCPD is about control, order, and perfectionism. BUT!! It’s personality-level and not about intrusive thoughts like OCD. Leo wants things done right. He’s rigid about rules, resistant to change, and can become angry or distant when others “mess up.”

Michelangelo:

Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (AD/HD)

Why it fits?

Signs: high energy, difficulty focusing, emotional sensitivity, hyperfixations (pop culture, pizza, music), impulsivity, trouble with structure, 0 speech filter

Mikey is exuberant and fun-loving, but he often struggles with timing and appropriateness. Not because he doesn’t care, but because he gets overwhelmed by stimulus.

He fidgets, blurts things out, and often gets underestimated because his hyperactivity masks his emotional intelligence. He picks up on others’ moods fast, even if he can’t articulate his own (in my fic, this makes him the mediator between Rosie and his brothers). His “class clown” role often hides deeper insecurities, like fear of not being taken seriously.

Donatello:

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) + possibility of Autism Spectrum Disorder (Level 3?)

Why it fits?

OCD:

Signs: obsessive need for precision, thrives on logic and structured tasks, backpack full of categorized ready-use tools (classic sign of compulsive preparation),

Donnie’s OCD shows in the need to get everything exactly right. He overanalyzes, double-checks, and is constantly monitoring his brothers' vitals, most likely because his brain keeps looping worst-case scenarios: “If I don’t fix/predict this, everything will break.”

Donnie is constantly tweaking gear, even mid missions. He has his own lab space (not shared) that he trusts no one else to handle. It’s less about order for its own sake, and more about staving off imagined disaster.

Autism:

Signs: hyperfixation on tech and science, bluntness in speech, possible sensory sensitivities (headgear and headphones), routines and logic as safety nets

Donnie thrives on systems. He prefers predictable interactions, and his passion for machines isn’t just interest, it’s regulation: he goes straight into solution-mode under emotional stress. Technology makes sense; people don’t.

HOWEVER!! while he does show social awkwardness and intensity, it is not to a level that impairs his daily relationships + his intelligence is fluid as opposed to the more rigid thinking of those on the spectrum. He prefers machines to people, but still gets people. He teases Mikey, understands Raph’s aggression, and even mirrors Leo’s leadership cues. His focus on data could have resembled autism more if it was shown to impair his social communication, but it rarely does.

“Masks Off” Bonus!!

Rosalind Sacks

model: @ninakrasnolutskaya on Instagram

C-PTSD and Persistent Depressive Disorder (Dysthymia)

Why it fits?

C-PTSD

Signs:

- Hypervigilance: noticed footsteps behind her before confirming them

- Emotional numbing: doesn’t trust her own emotions or perceptions, disassociation under threat (saw Leo's reflection in the window and her first instinct was to dismiss herself as hallucinating)

- Fear of abandonment: Her memory flashes (her dad handing her tape vs. his casket) show unresolved grief and internalized loss.

- Internalized shame/guilt from her father's legacy

- Freeze + fawn responses: when meeting the turtles, when the ceiling collapsed...

Depressive Disorder (Dysthymia)

Rosalind doesn’t ask for help. She hides, she runs, she minimizes herself. That’s trauma conditioning. Even her social interactions (like giving her place in line to the father with the toddler) scream suppressed empathy and practiced invisibility. She doesn't want to “burden” others.

Signs: hopeless worldview (she’s surprised when things go right); lack of self-worth, emotional flatness (even during the subway chase, she’s shown as emotionally muted, no screaming, no asking for help), she’s functional (working, grocery shopping...) but not living.

Rosie’s carrying shame and responsibility. She doesn’t fully allow herself to feel joy or safety because it feels temporary or stolen. That’s not just trauma, that’s the slow grind of long-term depression.

You can see this analysis in practice throughout my fic here on wattpad and here on ao3 (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

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?