Tmnt Raphael 2007 Novels & Stories

CHAPTER 120 "A turtle," Liam said, leaning his forearms flat on the marble island as he watched Raphael open the greasy cardboard box between them. "Hands down. It’s not even a debate." Raphael stopped with a slice of pepperoni halfway to his mouth, tossing Liam a look of utter, deadpan disbelief. "A turtle?"

I followed it like a compass I wasn’t supposed to have. Raphael stood in the middle of a living room that looked like it had been designed by someone who hated clutter and loved power. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city like it was his personal snow globe. He wore a charcoal button-down with the sleeves rolled once, forearms bare, a thin scar running along the left one like a signature. His hair was still mostly black, but silver had started winning battles at the temples. He looked exactly like the man my mother had warned me about and nothing like the uncle who used to slip me twenty-dollar bills at family barbecues when I was twelve.

"Don't you remember? We met the two at the same time. One would not be separate from the other." "Are they siblings?" "They do not share any blood." Ages said as the man Raphael was punching stopped moving. "Aww~ Already," Raphael said, getting to his feet. His entire body was filled with tattoos and scars ran all along his back as Myra walked to him and handed him the cloth he used to wipe the sweat from his face. "You exerted a little more energy on that man." She remarked, looking at Raphael closely. "Is there a reason for that?" "He is incredibly annoying for some reason," Raphael remarked, holding the cloth in his hands and smelling it. "Did you-"

He almost knelt by the pain that he felt but he was unable to do so as Lorenzo kept on holding on to his arm that was now burnt by the yellow flames. "W-what…" Raphael uttered in his hoarse voice that was laced with confusion. He didn't understand why those jeweled eye wielders were fighting with the emperor. "Hello." Raphael glanced in the direction of the gentle voice. It was the white-haired woman with purple jeweled eyes. He seemed to hear that her name was Maureen. She smiled amiably at him. "I heard that your name was Raphael. Was I correct?" Raphael knitted his brows but didn't answer. Nevertheless, Maureen still smiled at him gently and patted his head.

The memories unfolded like a film, each recollection seamlessly blending into the next, creating a vivid tapestry of Raphael's life before immortality. As the memories continued to unfold, I watched as Raphael's twin boys slowly grew into rambunctious youngsters, maybe 3 or 4 years old, full of energy and curiosity. Raphael himself began to show signs of aging, his hair graying at the temples, his face etched with lines of love and laughter.

"Your fellow student engaged in illegal prostitution and hurt my people. If I leave just like that, do you think anyone in Little Xeottect's gonna take me seriously?" He bellowed, "Your turn, Kemp! This arrogant little *sshole needs a spanking!" "On it," Raphael answered with a small bow and approached Logan. "I had no idea Little Xeottect housed such a young, talented fighter like yourself. I suppose confining myself in East Minos has prevented me from learning about you." Raphael's reason for answering Dante's call was the ever-pragmatic "money." But the martial art master in him immediately took a shine on Logan, who he recognized as a rising talent, so he could not help but speak cordial

But he was still there. Raphael was standing by the large window, looking out at the morning grounds. He had pulled on a pair of dark grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, but he was still shirtless. The bright morning light poured over his broad shoulders, highlighting carved muscles of his back and the dark ink of his tattoos. A sudden squeeze of affection tightened in my chest. He looked like he belonged here, in my space. But the moment the feeling registered, I quickly brushed it away, locking it deep in the dark corners of my mind where it couldn't hurt me.

GERARD . . The door creaked open, and without thinking, I turned to cover Tommy with my body. Then I saw who it was. “Raph.” My shoulders dropped. “It’s just you.” Tommy’s pheromones hit him. “He’s in rut?” “Yeah.” I wrapped my fingers around Tommy’s wrist. “I need to get him out of here.” Silence—heavy and dense—dragged as Raph’s gaze darted to Tommy, then back to me. His pupils flared like I had betrayed him.

I have a certain fight to finish. Before I could get to shorty, Raphael took hold of him. I never knew this angle of Raphael. He fought with him (him doing all the hitting) like a professional. Like a natural. His stance is so at ease. I didn't know Raphael knows how to fight. Of course, I didn't know many things about him. But I thought I could identify a fighter when I saw one. Obviously, it's not the case. His style shit even his way of holding himself is totally different. It's like he is a totally different person. This is not the case apparently. But still, it would take a lot of practice to separate the fighter from yourself. I tried. It's difficult for me- even now, after leaving it

He chuckles at my feeble attempt, only stepping back with a malicious grin. Raphael isn’t as tall as Marco, but he is still a decent height for a male. And he didn’t get classed as a bully for no reason. Although muscular, there is no smooth elegance or refinement to his physic. Raphael is a rough piece of work, as if he has been carved with a blunt knife. Curated with jagged edges, a shaggy unkempt beard and buzz cut. He is like a rusty machete, worn, weathered, and ragged, but still dangerous enough to cut you and give you a nasty infection. “Stop! Stop this nonsense!” I yell, decently fearful, as I feel a close friendship with Mr. Barlow. Even with his annoying old man tendencies. I don’t