A/N

Based on the 2012 TMNT cartoon, or at least what I've been able to track down about it so far. I hardly expect April's character to be anything like this in it, but as the series has yet to start airing, I'm in that zone where I feel free to experiment with characterization.

Tears with a Slice of Pizza

Pizza didn't taste so good nowadays.

Maybe it was her mood. Maybe it was her choice of joint. Maybe it was the lack of company, both in family and friends. Either way, after taking a bite of the slice beside her, April O'Neil didn't find herself wanting another.

"You okay kid?" the owner asked from behind the counter.

"Fine," the sixteen year old murmured. "Fine."

It wasn't. Not her feelings. Not her life. Not even the bloody pizza. In fact, the only good thing that could be said about this particular joint was the wireless connection. Easy access to the Internet that while not particularly fast, was free to all customers. And while streaming anything off YouTube was a no-go, April didn't need to go there. Just typing in "New York abductions" or a similar phrase was enough.

Enough to get information at least.

Resting her head on her left hand while taking another bite of the pizza with the other (in order to avoid any more 'concern'), April scrolled down through the numerous entries that popped up. It wasn't something she was really meant to look at, or at least, not encouraged to. Social services kept telling her not to worry, the police were tired of her ideas and her friends…

Friends are overrated.

It was a harsh line of thought, but ever since the disappearance of her parents, April had started to realize how harsh New York could be. Harsh enough to treat what she'd realized to be one of many disappearances as nothing to be concerned with, or something to be covered up. Her friends could offer her support and concern, but if it came to actually doing anything? That was the police's job. Not theirs. They were just kids after all.

Teens, April reminded them. And they did remember. Right up to the point where the responsibilities of a teenager came into play.

Almost on cue, her phone buzzed. April casually flipped it open, seeing a text from Eva.

RCDE 2nit Wan2cum?

No, April thought, closing the mobile without bothering to send a response. I don't.

It was the classic 'friend solution'. The arcade. The thing to forget about the troubles of the world. It was what made April want to find her parents even more. Sooner or later, alcohol and/or drugs would become the solution and…

I don't want that, she told herself. I want answers.

So she kept searching. Kept typing. Kept scouring every blog, every New York Times article, every police report she could hack into on the NYPD database. Searching for anything besides the phrases of "mysterious disappearances," "suspected abductions" and in more recent times, "ninjas" and "sewers."

Gotta be something, gotta be something…

There was nothing. The same stories. The same rumours. The same phrases over…

Nothing.

And over.

Nothing.

And over-…

"Fuck!"

Again.

It was too much. The trail was cold. The pizza was cold. And despite regretting her outburst, April nonetheless slammed her laptop shut, uncaring that it was technically still running. Ignoring the footsteps of the owner, she buried her face in her hands, fighting back sleep, despair and…bloody hell, tears.

"You okay kid?"

April didn't look up. She kept her gaze in her hands, seeing nothing but the darkness that came from closed eyes.

"You…er, what that pizza heated?"

"No," she murmured, still keeping her eyes in her palms. "I don't."

"Then…you want anything else?"

"Not that you could provide."

April hoped he'd take off then. But hope was in short supply these days, so she didn't keep up her eye-palm technique going for long. Eventually she opened her eyes, hoped that they hadn't become too watery and met her new 'friend's gaze.

"You're not here for pizza, are you?"

April stared at him. He looked Indian, but there was no trace of an accent anywhere. Still, she supposed this part of town was the melting pot of humanity, with all its good and bad.

"No," the teen admitted, hoping that she could still be on the 'good' side of things by being honest. "I'm not."

"Thought not," he said, leaning back in the plastic chair opposite the table. "You've been typing away at the laptop like there's no tomorrow."

"Maybe there isn't."

He raised an eyebrow, but April didn't care. Maybe there wouldn't be. Maybe she'd end up in the same place her parents had. Maybe she'd go to sleep tonight and not wake up at all.

"I'm leaving," she said, getting to her feet and putting the laptop in her satchel. "Thanks for the time."

"You know…" the man said. "There are better places for Internet browsing."

There were, April knew. But those places tended to be more obvious. Starbucks, Internet cafes…she wanted to be alone. She felt alone, and didn't want to fool herself into thinking otherwise. Because at the end of the day, at the end of all things, it was the truth.

Silently, April headed out onto the street.

Truth was a rare commodity these days.

So was hope.