Prelude to the Shredder Wars – Snippet 1

Because even though I haven’t posted any new story bits in years, I still haven’t really given up on finishing my big messy crossover Gargoyles/TMNT mythfic.  Since I haven’t had much luck finishing anything bigger than assorted snippets, I’m gonna try a new approach of writing those and posting them as I finish them.

In any case, this and the rest of the snippets in the Prelude to the Shredder Wars series are meant to set the stage for the Shredder wars hinted at in the first episode of TMNT: Back to the Sewer.  It’s set between the end of that season and Turtles Forever and will involve time travel, betrayals, and strange bedfellows.  Here’s hoping the story’s as good in actual text as it is in my head.


April 9, 2009, 7:34: p.m.

As his metabolism processed the drugs that had hours ago entered his system, Khan dreamed.

He dreamed of his older sister, who now made and sold jewelry in Oregon. He hadn’t talked to her in years, although now he was thinking that maybe he should. He dreamed of his first kill, the details still fresh even after twenty-three years. He dreamed of a world where everything dissolved into butterflies with a touch.

He awoke.

Khan was not in the FBI van where he’d spent his last waking hours, although he wasn’t particularly surprised by that. Instead, he was in what appeared to be a hotel room, of the sort found in places one only went to when one missed their flight and needed a place, any place, to stay for the night. Hotel Cabal, said an information sheet located, along with the traditional bible, inside the drawer next to his bed.

He felt like crap. He had already been on an empty stomach when the trip from Boston to New York had begun, and the remains of whatever had been used to knock him out now settled in the pit of his stomach like a super-dense star. He needed food and vomiting, not necessarily in that order.

A look around revealed a mini-fridge, and a look inside that revealed pitcher of water, a packet of tea of a brand Khan had never heard before, and several calorie bars. He ignored all of them, and instead went to the bathroom, where he drank from the faucet: although he didn’t suppose anyone would try and poison him—they’d had plenty of chances to kill him while he was asleep—it didn’t hurt to be careful. However, given the locked door preventing him from leaving, not eating meant that it’d take several hours for him to get in anything resembling fighting shape. Still, he had nowhere else to be at the moment, so this scenario was as acceptable as any other; after showering, he picked up the Bible, opened it at the Book of Songs, and began reading.

Fifteen minutes later, Khan heard a knock on the door, and in walked a woman carrying a bundle in her arms. More important to Khan though was her warrior’s aura, and it only took him a few moments to recognize his visitor as Raquel Silva, known in the competitive mixed martial arts’ circuit as Lady Macbeth.

“You didn’t eat,” said Silva casually, as she inspected the fridge.

“I wasn’t hungry,” Khan replied, as he inspected the newcomer from behind his book. She had a gun holstered on her right hip, which she probably didn’t need but was yet another reason not to try and attack her in his state. Better to just stay calm and see this through.

Silva tossed her bundle at Khan. It turned out to be a bag of clothing. “Get dressed. You need to go see the big man.”


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