That night, three months ago, when Karai lunged at Raphael during patrol, you didn’t think twice about leaping after the two of them; despite Leo’s protest.

She acted like a damned rabid animal. Looking more mutant than human as you desperately fought her off, trying to bite you the entire time. Raph was knocked unconscious.

And so, afterwards, you tried to call the turtles, but no one picked up. Most of the manholes in NYC were, for whatever odd reason, constantly crowded with others like Karai. Sharp teeth, slitted pupils.

Blood everywhere.

For awhile, you stayed at Murokami’s place. Casey stopped by for a moment, only to check if the old man was alive and to see Raph. Mumbling something about not being able to get in contact with the rest of the turtles before running off to find April.

It took Raph two days to wake up, and when he did, he started behaving differently. More stressed. Constantly complaining of toothache. And, for whatever reason, developing a garlic allergy out of literally nowhere.

“I don’t know what the hell she did to me.” he’d confess as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. Or, well, he tried to. His reflection stopped appearing.

It was obvious something was going wrong. Everyone outside was acting strangely. The government even started a new quarantine law and issued a curfew. Shooting anyone dead out at night.

It apparently was only safe during daylight hours, but that would be a death sentence if Raph attempted to go outside. He was sure the military wouldn’t be too thrilled to see a mutant turtle running around the city with a human.

He didn’t miss the wary glance you threw his way as his finger prodded at his sharpened canines, “…Relax. I ain’t like them,” the turtle awkwardly attempted to squash any fear. “I can.. control myself. I think.”

For whatever odd reason, he never had a craving for blood, never had the urge to bite people. Unlike the rest of the infected.