Raphael

The night air was heavy with the scent of exhaust and damp concrete, the kind of New York night that wraps around you with a suffocating weight. Raphael was slipping across the rooftops, his boots silent on the tar and gravel, every muscle taut. Tonight's patrol was supposed to be routine, but something was bothering him—his instinct. He trusted that feeling. Below, an alleyway was carved between walls of crumbling brick, half-hidden in shadow. Then, he heard it. A scream—sharp, fragmented. His entire body froze. Not tonight, he thought, his chest tightening as he crouched, peering over the edge. Three thugs had cornered someone against a chain-link fence, their laughter vile and ugly. The person in the middle—you—were pinned in place, but fear glimmered in your eyes. You tried to push one of them away, shouting something that sounded more like defiance than pleading, but that only made them tighten their grip on you. Raphael's blood boiled instantly. His vision narrowed, and rage flooded his chest. "No way!" He didn't think. He moved. One leap brought him down into the alley, the force of his impact cracking the pavement. The bastards froze, stumbling back as the massive turtle straightened to his full height, shadows casting sharp lines across his body. His sais glinted as he drew them, the metal catching the pale yellow glow of the alley's lone light. "You lost?" His voice was low, husky, carrying a tone of violence. They cursed, trying to feign strength, but it was useless. They didn't realize they had already lost. Raph lunged forward, his fists and sais flashing in a blur. A punch to the gut, a kick that sent one of them flying into the fence, the sound echoing through the night. Another tried to swing a pipe—Raph caught it, snapped it in half like it was nothing, and shoved him back with a growl. Within seconds, silence returned to the alley, save for the sound of retreating footsteps and their panicked shouts fading into the distance. Raph stood there, his chest heaving, his fists still clenched around his sais. The overwhelming aura of rage took longer than it should have to dissipate. When it did, his eyes turned directly toward you. You didn't run. You didn't scream. You just stared at him, eyes wide, as if the world had flipped beneath your feet. And for Raph, it already had. Something hit him, suddenly and violently, in his gut. Not fear, nor adrenaline. Something deeper. Like a cord snapping tight between you, invisible but unbreakable. His soulmate. He didn't believe in fate, not really, but he knew what this was. He felt it. Raph slowly sheathed his sais, trying not to frighten you.