Leonardo groans. There's a dull ringing in his ears that mingles with the distant rumbling of thunder. His sapphire eyes flicker open just a flash of lightning splits across the sky in a brilliant flash, tag-teaming with the steady rain. He gasps and lurches upwards, eyes wide.

He's in an abandoned alleyway, the raindrops pattering against the pavement and his shell steadily. He's back in New York, there's no doubt about it, and that makes him relax slightly as he gets to his feet. He creeps to the edge of the alley and peers out. Behind him, there's a round of grumbles and moans.

"Ow...what hit me?" Raphael mutters.

Leonardo turns, opening his mouth to speak, but he freezes when he counts only three turtles. "Uh...where's Destiny? Where's Renet and Diaval?" he asks, his voice gaining an edge. "Most importantly, where's Destiny?!"

The turtles look around, their eyes getting just as wide as those of their leader's as they huddle together beneath the overhang of the alleyway. Michelangelo dashes over to the nearest dumpster and hoists the lid open. He looks inside and lets out a pained groan when he sees no one inside.

"Dudes, I think we lost Destiny," he whimpers.

Raphael rolls his eyes and prepares a snappy comment, but a sudden and very loud crash of thunder makes him squeak and smack into Donatello. Leonardo glances out at their surroundings yet again, heart pounding.

"I...I don't understand," he says. "This is New York, but...I don't know. This feels...off."

Donatello scoots up behind him, narrowing his eyes as he surveys the rainy streets. After a little while, he shrugs and ducks back into the minimal shelter of the alley.

"Well?" Raphael presses.

"I have no idea what's going on," Donatello responds.

The other three groan in disappointment. Leonardo pinches the bridge of his nose, tapping his foot enough to make the puddles near him splash. "Okay, uh, maybe Des went to the lair...because we were knocked out for some reason," he mutters. "Diaval and her couldn't take us all at once. Renet had to go home, so...they're gonna come back."

"I...guess that makes sense?" Michelangelo says.

Leonardo flings his hands up in exasperation. "I don't know! Let's just go home, dry off, explain our problem to Master Splinter, and go from there."

"Yes, our problem," Raphael mutters. "Hey Sensei! We just went time travelling with a chick from the future, and now we lost Destiny and Diaval! By the way, we witnessed Tang Shen's death and saved your life sixteen years ago!" he mocks, his voice getting louder and louder with every word.

"Raph, enough!" Donatello says. "Leo's right. We need to regain our bearings before tackling this. I say yes to going home."

"Same here," Michelangelo whines as he rubs his arms repeatedly. "I'm freezing my shell off."

The turtles head for the nearest manhole cover, shove it open, and sneak inside. They race down the tunnels at a steady sprint, each one hoping that the lair will bring them some comfort and clarity to their frazzled minds.

However, as they near their home, little voices echo in their ears. They freeze. Multiple sets of eyes narrow.

"Someone's in the lair," Leonardo hisses.

"What do we do?" Donatello asks.

Raphael lifts his fist. "Go in and kick their shells," he answers.

"Offer them pizza in return for leaving and forgetting we exist?" Michelangelo suggests.

Leonardo rolls his eyes. He gestures for them to follow in his footsteps and they oblige, creeping in single file down the last strip of concrete and railroad before the lair entrance. The voices get clearer.

"Hey! That's my toy!"

"You've been playing with it for...for...forever! It's my turn!"

"DADDY! DAAAADDDDYYYYY!"

The brothers stop and stare at one another, utterly confounded. "Daddy?" Michelangelo echoes, breaking their four-way silence.

"They sound like babies," Raphael adds.

They slink even closer, peeking over the ledge near the turnstiles so that they can see into the lair. They hold back audible gasps at the sight before them.

Master Splinter moves towards four toddling little turtles, two of which are squabbling over an action figure. The green-eyed turtle holds a toy away from the freckled one with the baby blue eyes, poking his tongue out. The freckled turtle has tears spilling down his cheeks. Nearby, a sapphire-eyed turtle surveys his tussling brothers with sadness and annoyance, whilst a little brown-eyed turtle reads a picture book nearby.

"Michelangelo, what is the matter?" Splinter inquires gently, kneeling next to his sobbing son.

The present day Michelangelo gasps, the other turtles clap their hands over his entire face in an attempt to shut him up.

"Raphie took my toy," little Mikey sniffles.

"His turn was over," little Raph pouts, still clinging to the toy as if it's his only possession in the world.

Splinter's stare fixates on his fiery son. "Raphael, you are five years old. You should know how to use your words."

"He tried using his words for a second, daddy!" little Leo pipes up as he bounces over to his dad with a proud smile on his face. It falls a moment later. "But then Mikey said no and he got angry."

"Thank you, Leonardo," Splinter says, resting one hand and Leo's head and rubbing. Leo churrs softly in his throat. "Michelangelo," he speaks, returning his attention to his freckled son. "Is it possible for you to choose another toy?"

He pouts, rubs at his tears, then nods. "Yes, daddy."

"Good. Raphael, please be more patient next time. See how easy it is to obtain what you wanted through compromise?"

Raph nods, although his tiny face is still screwed up with anger. "Uh huh, daddy."

"How about I read to everyone?" little Donnie suggests happily. He scrambles to his feet, hauling a large book along with him as he races towards his brothers. "This one is one of my favourites: Beauty and the Beast. Maybe you guys can try reading again!"

"Ooo, yeah! I wanna see!" Mikey squeals.

Donatello plops the book down on the ground and opens it as he sits down. Leo and Mikey flank him, Leo nearly hugging his shoulder as he tries to look at the book while Mikey gazes at the pages in admiration. Raph sits down next to Leo and fiddles with his action figure, sullen but with a spark in his eyes that can't be missed.

The fifteen-year-olds nearby scramble away from the scene with eyes so wide that they're nearly falling out of their heads.

"We're still in the past?!" Raphael whisper-yells.

"By the looks of it, yes. We're in 2002," Donatello frets, wringing his hands. "We're so young, we don't even have our masks yet. This is...I can't..." He exhales and grips his forehead, humming under his breath. "This makes no sense. Why are we here and only us?"

"What if the sceptre conked out again?" Michelangelo suggests.

"I suppose it's a possibility, but twice in one go? That seems—" Donatello starts.

"Wait!" Leonardo says.

He pulls out his t-phone and scrolls through his camera roll until he finds the one picture that he has of Destiny, where they're sleeping together on the bench in the living room. Destiny's picture fades away right before his eyes.

"No...no no no..." he mutters.

"What is it, bro?" Michelangelo demands.

"Destiny's gone from the picture," Leonardo answers, shutting off his t-phone. "Something's happening that's changing our present. We have to fix this."

"How? There's nothing special about us being five," Raphael says. "Unless we're supposed to—"

"That's it!" Donatello says, startling his red-masked brother. "If we're five, then Destiny is five too, and if she's five—"

"She's somewhere up on the streets," Leonardo finishes. He starts down the tunnel. "We have to go save her."

Raphael snatches the back of his brother's shell, a frown hardening his face. "Leo, how do you know she needs saving?" he asks.

"I've got a feeling. Please, just trust me," Leonardo says. "Are you guys with me?"

A few glances are exchanged. Michelangelo breaks the silence yet again. "Always, bro," he says. "Let's find our wolf lady."

----------

The streets are no less rainy when the turtles reappear on the surface and climb up the nearest building. Leonardo scans the streets below them, hoping to see a certain little face somewhere.

"How do we even find her, dudes?" Michelangelo asks. "She said she was a wanderer for most of her life."

"She said she lived as a pet dog for the first few years after she escaped the Kraang," Donatello says. "If she isn't safe inside a house, then we should check alleyways and dumpsters. I bet she's scrounging for food."

"Oh great," Raphael huffs. "Finding one teeny little five-year-old in New York. This should be a cakewalk."

"We have to try and find her," Leonardo says. "Why else are we here? It could be like Splinter all over again." He points to the rooftops. "Start high. Donnie go west, Raph go east, Mikey go south, and I'll go north. Meet up here in an hour if you haven't found anything."

----------

Leonardo's phone buzzes forty-five minutes into the search. He checks it to see a mass text from Donatello on the screen alongside coordinates of his location.

D: Come to the seedy side of town. You'll want to see this.

Leonardo sends out a quick "on my way" message before heading out. It only takes a little while before he finds Donatello waiting, perched on a fire escape. The faraway silhouettes of Raphael and Michelangelo can be seen in the distance, heading for the same spot.

"Donnie, what is it? Is it Des?" Leonardo asks.

Donatello points as he hands him a pair of binoculars. "No...the exact opposite, actually."

Leonardo takes the binoculars and peers through them to where a pale child stands at the edge of an alleyway. He has light brown eyes and shaggy brown hair with white roots, but the blank expression and stiff posture is unmistakably familiar.

"No way, is that..." Leonardo starts.

"Diaval at nine years old," Donatello answers. He leans onto his hand. "I didn't even recognize him until I heard someone call his name."

"What's he doing here? Is this where his parents lived? That would explain why he turned to working for Shredder—"

"Leo, do you realize what that building behind him is?" Donatello asks. There's a seriousness in his tone that jars the blue-masked turtle out of his rambling. His intelligent brother meets his eyes, a sense of sympathy worming its way into their brown depths. "That's a brothel."

Silence. The pieces in Leonardo's head slowly click together and his eyes widen. "You mean, like..."

"Yeah." A long sigh. "Brothels exist pretty much everywhere, but they're great at hiding from the public eye. It's no wonder we never noticed it." Donatello leans forward just a little bit and his mouth drags into a frown. "Usually girls are the ones that are employed, but the occasional boy..." He can't get himself to finish the sentence. His voice has gotten too weak.

Leonardo doesn't say a word. On the street below, little Diaval shivers and drags his coat closer to his body. He looks down the road, purses his lips, then sneezes. Another minute passes. Raphael and Michelangelo arrive on the rooftop and both look as if they want to say something, but wordless signals to remain silent come from their brothers alongside gestures. The other two turtles start to watch.

A Kraang Norman appears around the corner and strides towards Diaval. The boy notices him coming and stiffens, but doesn't run.

"Wait...is that a Kraang?" Raphael whispers. "And who's that kid?"

"It's Diaval," Leonardo answers. "Come on, let's get closer."

The turtles leap across some street lamps and drop onto the other side of the street wordlessly, right above where Diaval is waiting. The Norman reaches him, then halts.

"Kraang has come to retrieve the one known as you from this place that is here," the Norman speaks.

Diaval blinks at him. His youthful face is already drawn with the exhaustion and apathy that his current self portrays. "Don Poppa needs his pay," he states. The turtles startle at how high-pitched and smooth his voice is. "No money, you can't bring me in for another week."

The Norman holds out a stack of bills to Diaval. "The negotiated price is here and will be paid to the one known as Don Poppa."

Diaval takes the stack of cash, exhales, and nods. "One moment," he drones. "I'll give it to him, then we'll go."

He turns and disappears into the obscure building behind him just as a few other men leave with scantily-clad woman draped over their arms. They hold umbrellas up against the downpour, talking loudly as they head off for wherever their destination is. Diaval returns without the money and the weight of an even sadder expression pushing his shoulders into a slump.

"Let's go," he mumbles.

The Norman leads him away. The turtles sit in silence for another moment before Raphael's shocked glare lands on Donatello.

"You brought us here for Diaval?" he asks.

"I brought you here because we just witnessed something horrifying," Donatello snaps. "Don't you see? Diaval's pimp sold him out to the Kraang part time."

"Isn't a pimp...bad?" Michelangelo whispers.

"Very," Donatello answers. He straightens up. "I'm sorry, guys, I know you all wanted to find Destiny, but I couldn't let this pass by without us all witnessing it." The purple-masked turtle lifts his gaze to the rainy horizon. "He...used to be a brunet before. Look at what happened to him."

Leonardo stirs in place. "Donnie—"

"He's made bad choices," Donatello interrupts. "He hasn't always been the best guy around or the smartest, but...Destiny was right about him. He was a victim too, and..." He bites his lip, arms stiffening. "I don't know about you guys, but I don't hate him as much anymore. That's all."

Silence. Michelangelo stares at the spot where Diaval once stood with an unreadable cascade of emotions painted across his face. Raphael and Leonardo don't look up from their laps.

"On another note," Donatello says, clearing his throat. "I did find traces of Destiny's presence in this part of town."

"You did?" Leonardo asks. "Where?"

"A few blocks down, near the Purple Dragons' turf," he answers. "Just the basic calling cards: a hovel in between a couple abandoned milk crates, old cloth, food crumbs...it's enough of a mix between human and animal for it to be her, and since it's still in place, I think she'll come back."

"So we'll head there and scout around. That's all we can do," Leonardo says.

"As long as it goes quick, that's fine with me," Raphael mutters. He rolls his shoulders and casts a quick glare to the dark skies. "We'll catch hypothermia at this rate."

"Let's move. Lead the way, Donnie," Leonardo says. They start to move, then Leonardo stops when he sees that Michelangelo is still gazing silently at the brothel. "Mikey?"

"Huh?" Michelangelo straightens up, eyes wide. "What?"

"Are...you okay?"

The orange-masked turtle purses his lips, then forces a tiny smile. "Yeah, I'm just..." He exhales. "I feel bad for ever treating him badly." Leonardo fidgets, earning a long look from his youngest brother. "Donnie has a point, that's all."

Leonardo reaches out and gives a firm squeeze to Michelangelo's shoulder. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Come on. Time's wasting."

They hurry off after Raphael and Donatello.