Aspect Elemental: By Amanda Flowers

Suddenly he remembered something: something that, in their self-centered rambling, the paired fish had revealed. Whoever it was who was holding him here--Aquaria--expected him to bring her something in return. He looked at the varied objects. Nothing particular sprang to his mind as "right", but, there had to be something...

His eye was caught by a rack of scarves, silk, from the look of them, and brightly colored. He knew very little about the taste of this water woman, but it was at least an attempt. Pushing the button and releasing the encapsulated air, he retrieved one of the thin garments, in a striking red, and tucked it into his belt.

The buttons were still lit, allowing another attempt. Leonardo turned around, and saw the one other object he had noticed before--the captured squirrel. "Perhaps I should free him," he decided, approaching the airtight prison. The tiny animal jumped as he approached, and clicked its teeth, though the sound was unable to penetrate the glass and reach Leonardo's submerged ears. It couldn't hurt, Leo determined, and pressed the button.

The air escaped the glass casing, and the squirrel floated up among the bubbles. It made a feeble gasping sound, inhaling the surrounding water.

Still floating upward, it choked. It inhaled too much of what Leonardo had determined as "safe" water, and drowned.

Another door. And if this wasn't the door that led to the alleged Triple Fountain Room, Raphael was going to...to sue. He put all his weight against the unlocked door.

The Triple Fountain Room was not a room at all. It was, in fact, outside the maze, where Raphael faced the eternal dawn of the reddened sky, and the endless sea of lava before him. The fountains themselves sprayed not water, but red, molten rock, and glowed with the same light as the maze. This was no shock: Raph had not come all this way through fiery walls to expect water-spraying fountains. No! That would have made too much sense.

The only truly unexpected thing was the gigantic hammer that floated on the central-most and tallest spray. It was a war hammer, metal, long-handled, and glowing with the same heat as the red liquid it rested on. Raphael examined the fountain from all sides. It had to be at least fifteen feet to that hammer...too high to leap and not risk severe burns.

Between the two smaller fountains, almost falling off the stone platform into the lava sea, Raphael spotted a stone basin. He approached it; it had a smooth bottom, and though it was small enough to lift, it seemed heavy. Raph wondered what the stupid thing was used for. "Lava collection" was all he could come up with. He tested its weight, lifted it up, and, unblinking, chucked it at the hammer. Hammer and basin smashed to the stone floor with a crash.

The hammer was still glowing from the fountain's heat. "I hope the others have to go through all this..." Raph muttered, as he began to remove his wrist-pads, knee-pads, and elbow-pads, and wrap them around his hands. "I hope they drown, or..." He hefted the hammer over to the only slightly cracked basin. It sounded like a bell when he dropped it inside to shake out his stinging hands. "...or...get eaten by drooling beasts, or..." He lifted up the basin, groaning at the new weight, and started back down the maze, all the way imagining increasingly vile happenings for the other turtles.

The Rock Soldier exited the room, giving the heavy door a slam that echoed through the cavern. Donatello turned to hear his message.

   "Well, he says 'e is expectin' you, ac'ually..."

Donatello nodded, and started to walk past the guard to the door. He was held back by a heavy stone hand. "A bit of a snag, though," the Soldier continued.

   "What's that?"

Out of the dirt and rock of the wall emerged two creatures. They were short, and made of brown, glopping mud. The filth cascaded over whatever feet they could have had; they traveled like slugs across the floor. In what served for hands each carried a spiked club. Their eyes were black pits, holding no intelligence, but no remorse.

   " 'E says you 'ave to fight your way in." The Rock Soldier drew out his gun.

   "Fight?" Donatello backed up in shock, but it occurred to him he had no other option. He'd come so far... He raised his bo, if hesitantly. "I ain't one ta' be unfair," the Soldier remarked, "so I'll give ya' first shot. Go on."

Donatello summoned his courage, and darted at the Soldier. He gave him a half-hearted kick. He winced as his foot connected with the tough skin; the Soldier stood unfazed.

   "Well, you'll 'ave to do better than that," the Soldier offered.

Donatello glanced to the side. Maybe while he was distracted... He darted for the door.

The Soldier reacted quickly, sticking out his gun to bar Don's passage. "Come on, be fair. Give 'er another go."

   "I'd really rather not fight you," Donatello said.

   "Ah, don't worry about hur'in' me at all," the Soldier remarked.

That had really been the furthest thing from Donatello's mind.

He searched for a weak point in his foe, and decided the outstretched rifle might be a good place to start. He made a swipe at it, but the Soldier had anticipated this, and swiped it out of the way.

Donatello was getting frustrated. He swiped the bo around, letting the other end smack the Soldier in his head. His helmet flew across the room. Don brought the bo around at him again; the contact sounding a crack through the room. The Soldier cried out. "That's the spiri'!"

Seeing their leader in danger, now, one of the mud drones attacked. He swiped his club at Donatello, who managed to leap away just in time. Both creatures attacked him at once. He flipped away from the blows of one, and glanced quickly over at the other, raising his bo to deflect the heavy club that swung suddenly out at his head. He held it back, but one of the spikes drove in, splintering the wood. While he was holding one drone off, the other approached, swung his club, and knocked Donatello to the ground.

   "Is this really necessary?" Donatello asked, attempting to stand. The attacking drone hit him across the back, sending him once again to the hard floor. Don yelled wordlessly, realizing the spikes were tearing up the back of his shell. He scrambled to his feet, and managed to side-step the next attack.

   " 'Fraid so." The Rock Soldier was standing nonchalantly to the side. "Ca't say I don't wish it wa'n't."

Donatello backed up, another blow narrowly missing his face. "You know, it would save us both a lot of trouble if you would...sort of just let me win?"

   "My feelin's exac'ly. 'Course they don't li'en to me."

   " 'They'?"

   "Them fellas there. They're the gen'ral's pets."

Donatello raised his eyes. "I get you!" He brought his bo down on the attacking drone, cutting right through a layer of mud. A chunk of it flew away.

Neverminding, the drones continued to attack, blindly. Donatello knocked the gooey head off the other, and sightless, it swung its club. The unexpected attack hit Don again, and he fell.

From seemingly nowhere a laser whizzed by, turning the decapitated creature into a puddle of glop.

   "Huh?" Donatello jumped back. He looked back at the Rock Soldier, whose rifle was smoking. "Thanks!"

   "We won't tell him abou' tha' one," the Soldier remarked. "Though...I could lose my job, ya' understand."

   "If you ever do--" that last word was a grunt as Donatello drove his bo into the remaining mud creature, creating a substantial hole--"just come to the city and look us up. We could always use another ally in the fight against evil!" A club swing side-swiped his arm, cutting it slightly. Don removed the creature's arm with his next swing; the mud drone simply picked up the club with the other arm and continued to swing. Donatello went for this arm, and removed it as well. He stepped back to survey his work, then, swiftly, gave the creature one, final blow. The mud lost all substance, and splattered onto the floor.

Don backed away, and sheathed his battered bo. He looked up. Unbelievable. He had never seen a Rock Soldier smiling before.

   "Actually," Donatello remarked, "that was kind of fun!"

   "Right!" the Soldier said. He glanced over at the door. "We'll just play like I surrendered to ya'. Though," he added, "I may have ta' take ya' up on that offer of yours."

He extended a heavy stone hand. "The name's Sergeant Slait."

Donatello shook it warmly. "Thanks for all your help."

   "Luck to ya' with the gen'ral." Slait opened the rock door. It was pitch black beyond.

The beautiful hallway had actually ended. It emerged into an even more beautiful room: round, with marble floors, and a domed ceiling. Pure glass windows--with both clear and orange-colored fragments--lined the expansive curves of the walls. At the very apex, the ceiling opened up, threads of bronze guiding the eye to a void of white sky.

The back of the cathedral held the strangest thing of all: a thick column of stairs, and atop those and in plain sight, a rectangular altar, shining like mother-of-pearl. Michaelangelo gaped. It was almost calling him.

Before he could take a step, there was a gush of wind from the open ceiling. It was followed by the giant bird: the white beauty he had injured before. It was less than graceful as it fluttered to the floor, and hobbled over to the altar stairs. Mike got the feeling it was deliberately blocking his path.

Finally, he could see what was being offered on the altar: a pair of perfect nunchaku.

Clang!

Raphael threw the basin, hammer and all, at the base of the gargoyle's door.

   "There. You happy?" he snipped.

   "You've brought it?" the creature asked, eagerly. "Quickly! Throw it at thiss sstatue!"

Raph hefted the hammer into his wrapped hands, and was pleased to discover it had cooled considerably on his long voyage back. He prepared for the toss, then, halted. "Nah. You gotta help me first," he decided.

   "Pleassse!" the gargoyle sputtered. "I will help you! Just, pleasse, let me out!"

Raph snickered. "Hey, now, just hold your stone underwear on for a moment! What're you so impatient about?" Raph asked, ironically. "I've got you here... Why don't you give me some more info on this devil-lair?"

The gargoyle's inhabitant sighed. "What isss it you want to know?"

   "Well, for starters... What the heck is going on?!"

   "Helion hass the anssswer to that."

   "Helion?"

   "I can lead you to him! He will tell you everything you need to know."

   "Why would I want your help? Why would I even want to talk to Helion?" Raph demanded.

   "He iss the only one who can let you essssscape," the creature whined. "Pleassssse..."

Raphael sighed, and once again lifted the hammer. "Get down on your knees and beg...?"

The creature hissed pitifully, drawing out the end of his pleading. Raph shook his head. He brought his arms around and swung, letting the hammer fly. It hit the statue as if attracted by magnetism, shattering the stone into infinitesimal fragments. Raph covered his face to block the shrapnel. When he looked up, the statue was completely gone. In its place was a long cord of flame. A snake. It had the same lizard-like face as the gargoyle had, and the same unfurled wings, all made of smoldering red fire.

The door beneath the snake swung open, but the creature hissed. "Perhapsss you were wissse not to trust me." Its mouth made a strange smile, and the red tongue flickered. "I can lead you...down."

The chamber behind the door was completely empty except for a dark pit in the floor. A staircase spiraled below, deep to the floor.

   "What is this place?" Raph asked, already deciding on the answer.

   "There isss another way," the snake asserted.

   "What do you mean?" Raph asked it, trying to decide between braving more of the labyrinth and being condemned for eternity.

The snake's eye's flared. "You can die." With no further warning, it opened its mouth, and a great rush of flame spewed forth. Raphael had almost no time to leap away, and fire kissed his near arm. The shoulder band smoked.

   "Hey, whoa! What's with the hot stuff? I thought you said you would help!"

   "Helion did choose you!" the snake cried. He spat out another rush of flame, and Raphael leapt away. "And I can sssee why, now!"

   "What do you--? Aaahh!" Raph dodged another flare with a shout. "Why, you..." Clenching his teeth he took up a sai, and jumped into the air. He slashed at the snake, but his arm merely passed through, making no contact.

The snake continued its ranting as it fired repeatedly: "I sshould have been the one he chossse! Not you, an outssider!" Flame exploded on the stone floor. "To claim your prizzsse, you will have to get passt Pyrax!"

Raphael backed away, trying to snuff out a flaming wristband, oblivious to the fact that the tip of his mask was burning. "That's you, huh? Helion..." He looked up at his grinning foe. Pyrax had him backed into a corner... Then, he saw it. Nearby, and still intact: the hammer!

He leapt away for it, just as the flame that would have marked his end took down the nearby wall. Holding the heavy, magical weapon with both charred arms, he swung hard at his advancing foe. The hammer connected, smiting the offending flame...for a moment. Then, the snake reformed, more furious than ever.

   "Whoops," Raph offered lamely.

Pyrax hissed, and attacked again. The jet of flame knocked Raphael backwards and onto the ground. "Spit!!" he exclaimed.

Something suddenly struck him. That was it.

Spit.

Raphael opened his throat and took aim, the slobbery projectile making direct contact with the snake's open maw. It worked on the fire like pure acid, eating away at the monster both inside and out. Pyrax choked, the intense pain emerging his melted throat as a weak rasp. Raph rose to his feet, and, laughing, took aim again. Fire Two hit the snake between the eyes.

Raph would have asked for surrender, but even his quick tongue fell short of the fire's speed. The blinded snake flapped its glowing wings, and, whimpering, took off: not into the air, but straight down through the floor.

   "And don't come back, you wimp!" Raph hollered after.

After an intense heartbeat he was sure the creature was gone. He slumped and sighed. Wetting his fingers, he finally managed to quench his burning mask.

Leonardo was done with the museum room. For good. Letting the door close behind him, he suppressed a shudder at what had just happened. He tried not to think about it, but...if that small animal couldn't breathe, then why could...?

Across the hall, and at a diagonal, was the door that matched his current key. It was a small room, as floor-space went, but the ceiling was incredibly high. The only object within this veritable closet was a machine, stainless steel, short, and comprised mostly of a motor and rotating fanblades. On the edge of one of the blades, a key was perched, precariously. Leonardo pondered the machine for only a moment, and it occurred to him. It was designed to create whirlpools, only someone had turned it off.

Maybe he wasn't as bad with machines as he thought, he decided, as he snatched up the next key.

It opened up the neighboring door with ease. This was yet another closet-sized room, with a low ceiling to match, only it contained a far more impressive presence than the last. In this room stood another display case, this one rectangular, and larger than any of the others before. On a cushion of blue velvet lie a most spectacular work of jewelry: a silver necklace. The metal, finely crafted, depicted four, lean dragons, the tails of two running all the way around to the back; the others with their heads locked around a pearl of remarkable size. The necklace gave off its own light, changing the stale glow of the tiny room. Leo realized something: this was to be Aquaria's gift. Everything was laid out perfectly.

Leonardo reached out, but the display was locked, and not with a key, this time. The technology anachronistic enclosing the ancient-looking craftsmanship, the case was locked with a hand-print identification pad.

Leo blinked. It seemed to be built for a three-fingered hand.

He tried the lock, but it held. The wrong turtle? Impossible. He looked more carefully at the lock, and made a discovery: the scanner was scanning not only for finger patterns, but for a membrane between them. Whoever this lock was designed for, he--or she?--had a webbed hand.

Thinking quickly, he grabbed the thin scarf from his belt. He wasn't going to need it for Aquaria's sake, but maybe it had another use... Leonardo placed the fabric flush with the device, and laid his hand on top. For a moment he was afraid he wouldn't crack the lock...but it opened. It was concerned with hand shape only--after all, it required a fairly unusual hand.

An enormous bubble of air gurgled from the case. Contact with the water dimmed the necklace's glow slightly, but it was still perfectly crafted. Leonardo lifted it and inspected its intricate facets--the tiny clasp in the back; the lattices of scales upon the back of each dragon; the narrow, determined eyes; and the flawless beauty of the center pearl. Four dragons, four elements. It had to mean something.

The stone door closed behind Donatello as soon as he entered the abode of the vaunted "general". Almost no light was allowed to exist here, but the little Donatello could see did not bode well. For there was, in the room, the one thing he had never expected to find.

There was nothing.