The world ended on Raphael's 21st birthday. Literally. No sooner had Miky "surprised" him with a pizza loaded with candles and mini bottles of booze than they had felt the first tremor. Someone had bombed New York City.
In some ways it was merciful that the missile guidance system the terrorists had purchased was defective; the nuclear warhead had landed in the sea a few miles from shore, and the ocean had absorbed the majority of the blast. But the danger of the nuclear radiation was only seconded by the panic it caused. The U.S. government issued an evacuation order, and Master Splinter concurred.
With the citizens leaving the city en mass and the rioters looting stores in their wake, and the authorities caught between trying to bring order to the chaos and honestly being more scared about their own possibly-irradiated skins, it was easier for the brothers to split up and leave. They had planned to regroup in New Jersey, but the populations of all the New England states were running for their lives. He couldn't find anyone in that panic.
Raphael went north. It seemed to be the only way everyone else wasn't going. He lingered in Toronto. It was big and noisy, and for the first time since leaving the abandoned subway station in NYC, he got a good night's sleep tucked up in one of the tiny alcoves in the city's stunted subway. But it still wasn't home.
No word came from his brothers.
Raph began to wonder if his brothers were even still alive. Perhaps they'd gotten caught somewhere, saving someone who probably didn't deserve it, and been doused with a lethal dose of nuclear radiation. They could have been states away before their bodies finally broke down. Master Splinter was old, worn thin from their struggles with the Foot Clan. What if...he was the last of his family?
Naturally, instead of reasoning out all the possibilities, Raph got angry. If his brother's were alive, he was angry they had not responded to his efforts to find them. (He might not be of Don's hacking caliber, but he still knew how to work email and forums.) He was mad at whoever had launched that stupid bomb--several groups had jumped at the opportunity of claiming responsibility, but none of those claims had been verified. He was mad at the U.S. for making it so hard to leave NYC undetected. He was mad at the world for being so stupid--Hell, he was mad at God for inventing nuclear material.
He took out his aggression on the local crime population, but that didn't help. Then, one fateful, angry evening, Raph caught a punk holding an old Asian woman at gunpoint. Something snapped, and Raph didn't pull his punches. Before he realized it, his sai pierced one of the boy's kidneys.
Raph froze, horrified and angry--with the boy, himself, even the crazy old--
The woman gently laid a calming hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the wounded boy.
"I've already dialed 911," she told him softly, "But we cannot be here when the ambulance comes." Holding onto the turtle's arm with amazing strength for such withered fingers, she guided him down the street to her small studio apartment. Treating him like any other stray, she sat him in front of her small space-heater and pushed a cup of tea in his hands.
It was Jazmin tea. Just like Splinter used to drink. As Raphael held the hot mug, aromatic steam seemed to work its way into his brain and unlocked all the painful memories of his brothers and father. They had once been so close, and now they were gone.
"Thank you for saving my life," the old woman said, interrupting him.
Her simple gratitude was his undoing. He started to cry. At first that just made him even more angry--until sorrow overwhelmed his senses, and he wept unashamed.
"I've lost my family, my home," he sobbed. "I don't know what to do."
"You sound like my brother did, after World War II," she replied gently. "He lost his wife and son in Hiroshima."
Raph's heart resonated with sympathy--a unique experience for him. "What...what did he do?"
"He went to a monastery, to ask God why," she replied.
"Did he get an answer?"
"Go ask him yourself," she suggested, "after you finish your tea."
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