"in short, heroism means doing the right thing regardless of the consequences."
___________

A/N: There's some minor violence in this chapter, pretty much Raph going stabby lol

Crisp night air swirls through the slums of New York, bringing with it the earthy scent of rain. In the distance, the lights of the big city are just visible, a sharp contrast to the darkness and worn-down buildings. Here, the only light for miles comes from the flickering of dying street lamps. The walkways are empty save for the occasional straggler, scurrying along desperately to avoid the oncoming weather. They don't notice the pair of stark emerald eyes observing them from high above.

Raphael's gaze sweeps across the area from the rooftops. He's quick to notice the eerie black storm clouds hanging on the horizon, casting a shadow over the already-shady neighborhood. This is a more suspect part of town, the kind of place where lowlifes like the Purple Dragons make their home. Even so, he's patrolled the place with his family enough to know his way around. There's an old warehouse a few blocks away; it used to be a Kraang base, until he and his brothers drove the aliens out. It sits abandoned now, the perfect place for him to lay low.

The turtle starts on his way.

Fresh air immediately rushes into Raphael's face, sending his mask tails sailing behind him. Energy sparks like lightning beneath his skin, and before long he's smiling so hard his face aches. He lets out a whoop as he leaps from building to building in a glorified game of parkour. He never thought traversing the rooftops at night could get any more thrilling. He's always loved the way it made him feel weightless and free, like a bird on the wind. But without three brothers to pester him every second, the feeling is all the more wondrous. If the others were here, Leonardo would be barking orders at him, Donatello would be rambling on about God-knows-what, and Michelangelo would be doing everything in his power to get on his nerves. But now? It's like an enormous weight has lifted from his shoulders, replaced with wings that allow him to soar.

It'll take some getting used to, but he's on his own now, unshackled from the chains that had bound him for so long. He's finally free. And he has to say, he's loving the feeling already.

A few minutes pass before the old warehouse looms into view. Its deep red brickwork is barely visible in the shadows, with the windows and surrounding area equally as dark. As Raphael moves closer, he notices the main entrance is boarded shut, while the old garage doors are painted with graffiti. He can't imagine the inside is any prettier, either. The place is abandoned for sure—which is just the way he wants it. It may be run-down, but he's not exactly searching for a luxury suite.

He gives a small grin. This place will do just fine.

"AAAGH!"

Raphael jumps as an ear-splitting shriek slices through the night. Judging by how clearly he heard it, it couldn't have come from far away. It was high-pitched and terrified, almost like April's—or Michelangelo when he's losing at pinball.

"Sounds like something's going down," he says to himself. "Not to worry. Vigilante Raph is on it."

The mutant turns and bolts in the direction of the noise, heart racing as he glides through the city. His muscles are taut with anticipation, and he can feel his sais practically begging to be released from their holsters. He grits his teeth when the wail sounds louder nearby. Someone is clearly suffering, but who he isn't sure. Could it be a couple of thugs fighting over pickings? Or is someone totally innocent under attack?

I don't know, but I'm gonna find out.

Raphael skids to a halt as the rooftop draws to a close up ahead. He creeps to the edge of the building, peering over into the darkness of an alleyway. Five or so Normans—Kraang in human disguises—stand surrounding something. Slumped against the alley wall is a small girl clutching at her wrist, her face twisted with pain and terror as the droids close in on her. She struggles to stand, combat boots scuffing the ground, but she's far too tired. Raphael cringes as she crumples back onto the pavement with a groan.

"Picking on civilians, huh?" he huffs. "Those freaks are just asking to get pummeled."

A wicked grin spreads across his face as he draws his sais. The metal glints in the moonlight, as sharp and dangerous as the warrior who wields them.

"Hey, Kraang!" the turtle shouts. "Why don't ya pick on someone your own size?"

At his words, the disguised droids all snap around to face him, while their victim's eyes widen to the size of saucers.

"RAAAAAAAHHHH!"

A battle cry rips through Raphael's throat as he leaps down into the alley. He lands squarely on top of one Norman, crushing it easily beneath his weight. The rest immediately open fire, but the terrapin dodges the bolts of energy with ease, letting them sizzle harmlessly past him. Adrenaline rushes through his system like a speeding New York subway, energizing him to the core. His rage is building, spreading as a red-hot warmth from his head to the tips of his toes. He surges forward and knocks out two more opponents with a single kick. His lips curl into a satisfied smirk as as the light dies from their robotic eyes, taking the Kraang inside down with them.

This is what his family couldn't understand. They told him his hotheadedness is destructive, that it'll only ruin him if he lets it grow. But his rage is where he draws so much of his strength. Where words fail to express how he feels, his anger speaks for him, an outlet for everything he keeps pent up inside.

It's a part of him. And when he unleashes it, it's what makes him powerful.

The red-masked fighter screams as he plunges a sai into the final droid's chest, effectively turning the alien inside into a Kraang-kebab. Blood roars in his ears, his chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath. His green eyes dart around the alley, scouring the darkness for any more enemies. No one else remains—except the girl, who stares at him with enormous brown eyes. She whimpers in fear as their gazes lock, shrinking further back against the alley wall.

For the first time, Raphael realizes how truly young she looks. Her face, pale with fear, is distinctly youthful, with freckles that splash across her nose, cheeks, and shoulders. Her long brunette hair, though braided down her back, sticks up wildly around her scalp. And her clothes—a simple white tank top and brown cargo pants—are painted with sweat, dirt, and other stains he'd rather not think about.

She's hardly more than a child.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" he remarks. "You'd better get home to your parents, kid. It's not safe out here this time of night."

"I...you...what?" she sputters frantically.

Her small frame trembles violently, like a leaf in wind, and her breaths come just as shaky.

"Yeah, I know. Big, scary mutant, probably gonna eat you, right? Would ya stop staring and—"

He cuts off as the girl's eyelids begin to flutter. Her eyes roll back into her head, and a moment later her body goes slack, collapsing to the ground with a groan. It's then that Raphael notices her arms. Her left one looks normal, with a little brown purse slung over it, but her right wrist hangs a bit unnaturally and he can see it starting to swell. Although she's out cold, the young girl's face is distorted with pain. He guesses the Kraang droids are responsible, not that it takes a genius to figure out.

The turtle gazes at the stranger. She looks so helpless, her frame small and delicate against the hard floor of the alley. She's thin as a rake, too—Raphael swears he can see hints of her ribs poking through her dirtied top.

"What's a little kid like you doing out here by yourself, anyway?" he wonders aloud to no answer.

CRASH!

Raphael stiffens as thunder rumbles from the sky above. Moments later, the chilling sensation of raindrops pierces his skin like a cold knife, growing more and more intense by the second. He checks the sky, shielding his eyes from the weather. Judging by how the clouds are still darkening and the thunder is growing louder, the weather can only get worse from here. The girl doesn't flinch as the rain showers down on her, and the turtle bites his lip, feeling a twinge of sympathy in his gut.

I can't leave her alone out here. She's just a kid.

"Okay, no big deal. I'll just take her back to the lair for Donnie to patch up, and then...oh, right. Guess I'm on my own."

Even if I did bring her back, I bet the others would just make fun of me for being soft.

Another boom of thunder erupts from the heavens above. The red-masked mutant grunts as he kneels and scoops his rescuee into his arms, careful not to disturb her wounded wrist. She doesn't stir as he stands back up.

"Wow, you're a scrawny little thing," he remarks. "Why'd you think you could take on those Kraang droids by yourself?"

Even so, he has to respect it. Whoever this little stranger is, she sure has spirit.

Raphael looks up, squinting against the rain. It won't be hard to find his way back to the warehouse. As for his unexpected guest, he'll have to worry about her once she's conscious again.

"Well...here's hoping I don't regret this."

Holding the stranger's limp body close to his plastron, he disappears into the night.