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In all honesty, Talia had lost track of time. It was like she forgot where she was, her name, how to tie her shoes, everything. She was trapped in a bottomless pit, waiting for a blow that would never come. The only thing she could do was blink ever so often and lose herself in her fall, thinking: this can't be real. None of this is real. This is all just a bad dream. When I wake up, everything will be fine. Why couldn't life go that way? When it's raining and storming, why couldn't it be sunshine and rainbows with a flick of your wrist?

All she could hear in the background were muffled noises, like someone had filled her ear canals with water. She sat there, feeling like a dope, staring at the Rubik's cube swinging back and forth with the car's speed, waiting for it to come to life and say something positive, comforting even. But no. In her reality, the Rubik's cube was already pulling down its sunglasses and shaking its head, probably thinking, Idiot.

No. She wasn't the idiot here. She couldn't be. How could she? Was she really an idiot for giving the benefit to the doubt to the woman she's known ever since she came to this country? For believing her grief towards her best friend's death was genuine? For believing that she would want to help her find the one person responsible for all of this?

Talia felt someone shake her shoulder, but it did little to pull her from her bubble of denial and shock. A trick, she thought. It had to be a trick. Finally, when the gentle touch became a little rougher and her name was called a little louder, Talia came to. It was April, seated behind her, looking at her with such complexity.

"What- I. . ." Talia mumbled incoherently, taking a second to get it together. "What is it? What time is it. . ."

"You had us- well, I don't know about Raph, but you definitely had me worried there," April said. "You were catatonic-like for nearly the whole ride, Tals."

The first and last time Talia replicated that behavior was when April's father gave her a ride home, emotions high and raw before settling to numbness. It was something scary— the body shutting down like a machine, unfazed by heavy sounds and touches, your feelings paralyzed to the point whether you wonder if they'll ever be enabled again. Talia didn't ever want to feel that way ever again.

Talia looked sideways at Raph, who made a left turn. She just realized that he was a one-handed steerer (something she considered she could never do in this lifetime and the next) like her father. How could one hold enough skill and talent in just their palm to turn left and right? To reverse into a parking lot? And without hitting someone? She felt assured using both her hands.

"Where are we going?" Talia asked, almost immediately regretting the question because of how stupid it sounded.

"My house, obviously," Raph answered. Talia could tell he was subtly (or not subtly, because she noticed) glancing at her. "You still have the sample, don't you?"

Sample. . .? Oh. That's right. Once patting her pocket and feeling the plastic nice and cozy in there, Talia confirmed yes.

"Now going back to Priya—" Raph began saying, "—are you sure that was her talking in the basement?"

Talia really didn't want to say it because she found the revelation so unbelievable, but her lips spit out: "I. . . I'm sure. I recognize her voice from anywhere."

"It's always the nice ones." April shook her head like she had just finished one of her mystery crime shows.

"But there has to be some kind of mistake. . ." Talia said, her eyebrows furrowing. "Priya isn't the kind of person who would run around with criminals." So was your mother, a little voice in the back of her head reminded, but Talia tried her best to ignore it. "She would never work with a drug lord of all people!"

"Then would she work with The Foot Clan instead?" Raph questioned sharply. "The person Priya was talking to mentioned how their 'master' forbid further contact with you— which according to what you told us— was when she passed the intel about the warehouse to you. Now, we heard her say back in there that there was nothing left in the warehouse, but how could she have known if she had no idea your mother moonlit as Shredder's scientist, let alone what was inside that warehouse? The only explanation for how Priya could've known was being in on whatever your mother and The Shredder's little project."

Talia stared at her torn sleeve for a moment, then said, "That's not possible. . . Priya never gave me any indication."

"Maybe she was acting."

"She specializes in genetics and pharmaceutical science, not acting."

Raph hummed. "April," he called out, "I've been thinking about our exchange of words earlier and. . . I'm sorry. I know it was wrong of me to bring up what happened with your homecoming date like that. What do you say we forget all about it and say we're cool?"

Talia looked over her shoulder, seeing April's face contort into genuine surprise, like him apologizing was the last thing she expected. "Really? You mean that?"

Raph nodded. "Anything for a friend."

"Wow. Um, yeah, we're cool," April said in a high-pitched voice Talia hadn't heard before. "I'm also sorry, too. You probably blacklisted those girls because they didn't see the real you— the awesome you."

Raph clenched his jaw and pressed his lips together, like he was trying to hold in his laughter.

"What?"

He turned to Talia. "That was acting," he explained to her. "You don't need to be a professional to do it."

April opened her mouth like she was going to spew a a fountain of insults, but she ended up swallowing it down. She grit her teeth, muttering, "Asshole."

"Maybe Priya discovered my mother was doing something on the side, but we're still not a hundred percent sure she knew my mother's secret employer." Talia tried to point out flaws in Raph's theory (a theory that actually sounded plausible).

"You serious?" Raph scoffed. "The way she talked to that person— who I strongly believe was a Foot ninja— suggests otherwise."

"Okay, let's say that's true—" part of Talia still refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room, "—perhaps Priya knew everything. Then why would she send me to the warehouse, despite knowing nothing would be left? Why go through the trouble to help me out?"

"'She was probably trying to throw you off her trail— send you on a wild goose chase."

"But the Foot did leave something behind: ketamine— the one we found."

"Well, maybe she forgot it was there, I don't know." Talia could tell Raph was starting to become frustrated. "What I am certain of is this: Priya is somehow involved with The Foot and The Count, and we have to get to the bottom of it."

And that pretty much ended the Priya conversation. . . for now. Eventually, it would resume, but Talia didn't know if she was ready for that again. Heck, she was never ready for any of this— her mother's untimely death, losing her home, hunted by a bloodthirsty ninja lord, Priya's secret(s)— everything blowing up in her face. It made her think back to the conversation she once had with her mother a few years ago. That day had been sunny, so Talia saw no need to bring her jacket; however, her mother brought her coat and umbrella, for there was a storm brewing. Or so she believed.

Of course, Talia didn't believe her. Why should she? When it came down to her mother's predictions— like having a dream about a powerful typhoon just days before an actual one hit and devastated portions of Southeast Asia, or suspecting the president of Egypt would be overthrown after a series of mass protests, or swearing everyone would grow tired of listening to Katy Perry and go over to Ariana Grande— Talia thought it all had to do with her mother's tendency to get ahead of things; she always liked being the first to know, whether it be significant or insignificant.

So when the rain came pouring down and Talia was soaked head to toe and shivering, her mother looked down at her, perfectly dry and almost had a smug smile that spelled out, I told you so. 'Expect the unexpected,' was one of her mother's most used quotes, which could explain the one main difference between the two: her mother was clearly comfortable anticipating things that couldn't be anticipated and being prepared for whatever stone was thrown in her way; Talia was not.

***

About ten minutes later, Raph had pulled up into the driveway. Talia glanced out the window and saw the porch light on, with someone standing underneath it, arms crossed and foot tapping against the wood. Talia at first presumed it was Mr. Hamato, but where was his beard? He was also much stocky in build.

"Oh, boy," Raph muttered, turning off the engine.

On that friendly note, the three slowly stepped out of the car like children coming home to an angry mother.