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That there was an underground ring wasn't common knowledge. The gym it had been built beneath wasn't in the best of shape. All rundown and decrepit; that it hadn't been set for condemnation surprised a great many locals.

Not that they would have said anything, mind you.

Brooklyn was well-known for its... more colorful residents; to say nothing as to the _many_illegal activities said residents usually involved themselves in. Hell, even the police, perpetually understaffed as they were, felt it necessary to involve themselves with something that didn't pertain to them. That place, unlike most of their territory, didn't have any drug dealers peddling dope or prostitutes lounging about in its parking lot.

Kinda ironic really, considering how much headway they'd have made in a great deal of their investigations had they had bothered to look further. As it turned out, that gym in fact one of the secret training grounds for the Foot Clan. Not that they were vocal about it, mind you. The entire facility was constructed underground; the derelict gymnasium above ground was just for show.

It was within one of the many underground rings housed within the labyrinthian complex that strangeness was afoot (no pun intended). The Shredder, lord and master of the Foot, had tasked one of his lieutenants with a semi-important task. Recently there'd been an increase in the number of recruits, possible due in no small part to the wide-spread devastation and subsequent infamy they'd managed to garner via April O'Neil of Channel 6 News. Most of the prospects were street urchins, most of who were little better than gutter trash, and were summarily dismissed as such. It was only when the alien known as Krang came up with a more... efficient means of dealing with the lack of talent.

Mutagen.

The new recruits, one and all, had themselves checked for compatibility with the mutagen. And only those whose physiology didn't show any signs of rejection were allowed to submit themselves to the treatment (unsuitable subjects had this annoying tendency of mutating wildly, combusting, and just generally raising a whole lot of unhealthy questions). The animals whose genes bonded with theirs was not chosen by the recipients (as far as the Shredder was concerned, they gave away their right to choose as soon as they said 'yes') but by the needs (read: whims) of the Shredder.

It was one of said recipients that the lieutenant was testing today.

"Youse ready for dis' kid?"

Val had never made the right choices; 3 stints in juvey and 2 in jail all pointed towards a kid going down the wrong road real fast. If one were to ask him, he'd have attributed it to his parents: any kid named Valentine was almost destined for a swirly as soon as he hit the playground. And if one were to ask his parents, they'd have said it was because he was stupid.

What's really sad is that they're both right.

Val (he refuses to even acknowledge his full name) was given the short end of the popularity stick. What few friends he made could be counted on one hand, while the number of enemies he made could very well outnumber the population of a small town. His name inspired equal parts scorn, amusement, and pity. A number of people, including several of his friends, thought him to be gay on account of his name. That it was true was something that didn't really come up; largely on account of the many prejudices ingrained in him by their parents.

His parents were right too: Val was dumb. Not book dumb, but people dumb. He wasn't much of a people person. In fact, most of the enemies he's made were not because of his name (his thoughts) but because of his inability to say something intelligent (read: something that wouldn't piss people off). Whenever confronted with trouble or some kind of conflict he'd mouth off and get him and whoever was unfortunate enough to be around him, in a lot of trouble. By the time he'd left school, he'd had such infamy that gang life wasn't a means of belonging so much as it was for his own protection.

"I-I think so. I-I'm just have some t-trouble getting used to all dis, Mr. Rocksteady."

Now Val was many things - most of them bad - but a stutterer wasn't one of them. He found what words he wanted to use easily, even if those words weren't what others might call 'the right ones'. What came up came out. No, what got Val tongue-tied was Rocksteady.

"Dere's nothin' to be worryin' bout," said Rocksteady, as he waved his hand over his nose, "I ain't gonna hurt ya."

Unbeknownst to the Shredder, Rocksteady had taken a side-job. About 5 years ago Rocksteady and his friend Bebop, both followers of the Shredder, had agreed to undergo the Mutagen treatment, granting Rocksteady the body of an anthromorphic rhino and Bebop the body of an anthromorphic warthog. A few months later they were contacted by a recruiter, a salesman who claimed to be from the planet of the turtles. Their own experiences with turtles had made them more than a little bitter by that point but the salesman proved to be quite the sweet-talker, deftly handling their grievances with ease. And before they knew what had happened he'd roped them into a long-term contract with an inter-galactic wrestling organization and were subsequently whisked away for training via long-range teleport.

'Training' consisted of being thrown headlong into their first match. Ironically, their constant battles planetside had given them a killer drive, with cunningness to match. It was only because their opponents were more experienced than they were that they lost; and even then, they had to fight for their victory.

It didn't end there, however.

Though they lost, something about the way they fought struck a chord within the audience. Many of them had begun chanting their names after the match, their shouts drowning out all others. Even the victors were quick to congratulate them (in the locker room, of course) and before the night ended the two of them were quickly on their way to stardom.

They were returned home almost immediately afterward, but not without a hefty cash prize for putting up a great fight. It was a great deal more than their contract had granted them, but the recruiter thought it best to sweeten the pot a bit with some of his. He wasn't contractually obligated to do so, but he'd made so much money that that little bit he'd parted with didn't bother him.

Much.

Their subsequent matches saw an even larger influx of money, which they kept secret from the Shredder. While neither of them were what one might call a genius, they weren't dumb; at least, not as dumb as everyone thought they were. They hid the money in safe places, changing them as their master's plans brought them (him) too close to their money. Said stupidity made it easier to explain away any unusual fatigue; neither the Shredder nor Krang thought them more than cannon fodder, so they didn't need to put much effort into making up excuses. In fact, the money they were making was so go that, were it not for the fact that they were wanted criminal mutates, they'd have left the Foot and gone into wrestling full time.

Well... that and the fact that the Shredder would hunt them down and kill them for their insubordination.

"I-it's not dat, sir. I'm just not used to wearing underwear in this body."

Their underground exploits had gone viral, attracting the attention of many different people. Their fan club had grown to such an extent that the federation execs decided to take a chance and began to broadcast their matches to planets unaffiliated with their programing (like Earth) with the intention of garnering some extra viewers. They mostly met with mixed results: what planets that weren't interested didn't have the technology necessary to intercept interstellar broadcasts.

At least, as far as they knew.

"Dem's not 'underwear' kid, them's wrasslin shorts."

Though the majority of the planet was unaware of it, Earth had a long history of playing host to otherworldly forces, many of whom were wrestling fans themselves. There were also a number of techno-geeks who've managed, either through overwhelming skill or dumb luck, to stumble upon one of the broadcasts.

And as fate would have it, one of Val's friends was one of said techno-geeks. You see in his youth Val had... defended (for lack of a better word) him from the malevolent attentions of several ne'er-do-wells by making such an ass of himself that the vagrants beat him up. The rescued was so thankful that he devoted himself to Val then and there, resolving to use his tech-skills to make Val's life better. That Val had done so by accident was left unsaid; especially in the midst of the many changes Val's creativity brought into Val's life.

Tinker, as he was later known, was extremely good with electronics. The basement of the apartment building he lived in (His mother convinced the super to give him run of basement) was littered with his projects. He habitually went dumpster diving and raided junk yards for parts, which he used to create his materials. And among the many things Tinker built was a small receiver, affectionately referred to as a 'tinkerbox', with which he used to give both Val and himself free cable. It was through this box that Val caught his first glimpse of Rocksteady, in what he thought was some sort of wrestling cartoon, using some of the advanced graphics that Tinker usually was going on about. It wasn't until high school that he learned just how real those matches were. And it wasn't until he met his hero that he finally came to terms with his own sexuality.

"W-will I have to wear a mask like yours?"

What Tinker hadn't told him, what Tinker didn't know, was that a great deal of the parts he used weren't of earthly origin: such as the ones that made his little 'tinkerbox' work so well. In his younger days, shortly after he allied himself with Krang, the Shredder was much more... indiscreet with the tech Krang supplied him with. Whenever something he was given didn't exactly as he wanted, off to the trash it went. He thought that, by dismantling his gear before throwing it away, he'd avoid any unnecessary complications regarding the discarded tech.

What he didn't count on, was Tinker.

"You will if I have anything to say 'bout it."

It didn't happen overnight; the unregistered signals were disregarded as just another glitch in an already faulty system. But several different system-wide upgrades, done over inquiries by an increasingly irate alien overlord, found the unauthorized transmissions to be the only 'glitch' that was consistent.

Tracking down Tinker wasn't difficult. The signals were easily traced. Capturing him in the dead of night from his 3rdstory window was even easier. And when it came time for interrogation, the nerd crumbled like a house of cards. Not that it mattered to Shredder; had Krang not been there, he'd have carved the boy up on the spot. The interdimensional despot gave Tinker the option of working with him, charming the sheltered lad with stories of ancient civilizations and promises of more stuff to work with.

That the boy caved in wasn't much of a surprise, considering the circumstances. The alien's offer was the only choice that didn't end with his blood painting a crimson-colored portrait on the ground. But to the surprise of his captors/future employers he didn't agree to it immediately, asking only for one thing.

That his best friend Val be inducted into the Foot Clan with him.

"I-If you say so. Been waitin for dis' a long time sir. Makes sense to be wearin dis'."

To say that Val was angry would've been an understatement. Not only did his best friend get kidnapped, and over something he couldn't have possibly known about, but his kidnappers had coerced him into working with them. That much Val could understand. But making him work for them, to put him on the line alongside of the scrawny nerd? That was too much, even for him. He was set to turn them down, damn the consequences, until his favorite wrestler and hero entered the room.

"S'good kid. Ready wheneva you are."

Rocksteady stared at the burly Brooklyn youth with thinly-veiled lust. He and Bebop had been in a committed relationship for a few years, owing to their mutual attraction to one another; an attraction that hadn't waned in the face of an intergalactic fan-club, groupies, and a very persistent stalker who's managed to give their security a run for their money.

And it wasn't until he laid eyes on Val did he think about addressing the boundaries of their relationship.

He nearly had a heart attack when Val told him that he was a fan of his. Thankfully the boy had the sense to say it AFTER he'd gotten the boy alone. He didn't want to think about what would have happened if the Shredder had heard about it. The boy went on and on about how he'd first seen Rocksteady (and his partner Bebop) on screen and how he thought it was all a bunch of baloney but didn't know it was real and how cool it was to finally meet him in person.

Rocksteady was really, really glad that Bebop was on the other side of the planet. He'd have had a hard time explaining the boner he was getting.

"I-I'm ready, sir."

Rocksteady could barely contain his enthusiasm when he heard that Val would be undergoing the mutagen bath; he didn't really think the boy could handle his rock-hard bod (the lecherous thoughts had been coming to him ever since that first day in the warehouse). He was even more surprised when he found out that he was supposed to be given a shot of genes from a gorilla; a selfish part of himself wanted differently, as he had never been particularly fond of them.

All such thoughts went out the window at the sight of Val's new form.

Now the kid already had a fantastic body; Rocksteady knew that. But there was just something about his new form that made him want the kid even more. Coming in at 7 foot and weighing in at just above 400 lbs., the new and improved Val certainly cut an impressive figure. His face had shifted to mirror the ovular look most gorillas had, with the emerald of his eyes being the only piece of himself that remained untouched. A moderately soft layer of black fur ran the course of his body, with only his hand, face, feet, and the lower-half of his 6-pack bare. Rocksteady could practically feel the muscles beneath all that fur. It was obvious to the causal onlooker (anyone who knew just what the hell he was) that Val wasn't completely accumulated to his new form; he described his new body as having to walk on his hands, after all. But that weakness, for him to be so strong and yet so helpless, stirred Rocksteady's blood up something fierce. He told himself that he'd have to apologize to Bebop after all this was over, and find a way to make amends for doing this without asking him first.

Because today, he would take this kid down. And in more ways than one.

"Let's go."

Rocksteady was the swifter of the two, rounding around Val before the other made it to the middle of the ring. He wrapped his arms around the kid's midsection and, practiced ease, lobbed the gorilla-morph backwards with a belly-to-back suplex, the impact from the slam rocking the ring. There he held the kid in place, bending his robust body into a bridge, with his feet planted firmly on the canvas.

With a frustrated growl Val shook off the hold, falling unceremoniously to the mat. He picked himself up to find Rocksteady waiting for him, a cocky grin on his masked face.

"Gonna hav' ta' be quickr' than that boy," teased the rhino, "there aint no place in the foot for chumps."

Like Val, Rocksteady had been raised on the streets, and had seen his share of violence. He also had a decade's worth of experience over the boy, having gone through his adult years in a gang. But of greater note was the fact that he had actual training. While Val was quite strong ( several times more so since his mutation ) he lacked any kind of formal training, something which would have made his high school days a whole lot easier.

In a fit of rage Val lunged at Rocksteady, who proceeded to counter the ill-advised assault with a leg sweep, which sent the beast sprawling down to the canvas. Val had seconds to lament his refusal to join the wrestling team before Rocksteady delivered a vicious elbow to his back, enticing a yowl of pain from the downed punk.

Seeing a quick way to end the match Rocksteady began to deliver several more in quick succession, Val's thick back forcing him to put more effort into it than usual. For the briefest of moments Rocksteady hesitated, his eyes trailing down Val's panting form and zeroing in on his exquisite bubble but.

Rocksteady's elbow barely missed Val, who rolled out of the way just as it hit the mat. Val bounced to his feet just as Rocksteady's elbow bounced off the canvas, leaving the elder wrestler to clutch his injured arm. Inspired by the many matches he'd watched Val rushed past Rocksteady and, bouncing off the ropes behind him, slammed him in the back with both feet, sending the veteran back to the mat. Val wasted no time, placing his feet on either side of Rocksteady before dropping his shapely behind on the small of his back where his feet collided.

Rocksteady grunted in pain as Val continued to assault his back. A part of him, however, relished in the physical contact; it as one of the reasons he liked to wrestle so much. And each drop bought the kid's voluptuous ass onto his flesh. Rocksteady could practically hear it jiggle. It wasn't the first time he regretted having a hide like a rhino's; though it did lessen the force of the blows. It spoke well for the boy that Rocksteady was able to feel his blows at all.

All-too-soon (at least as far as Rocksteady was concerned) the beating stopped. Val gave Rocksteady one final thump, not bothering to get up that time, and locked his hands around Rocksteady's chin, pulling backwards while applying more pressure to the small of his back.

Rocksteady struggled against the hold, his feeble efforts worthless against the kid's greater strength. He didn't dare push because Val seemed to sense when he'd make a move and increase the pressure on his back. And as such he did the only thing available to him.

*thump* *thump* *thump*

Rocksteady's upper body bounced on the canvas when Val released him. The kid rounded his downed body, staring down at his defeated hero with disbelief and confusion. The hero he'd seen, that had helped him finish high school, shouldn't have been this easy to beat. Val figured that there must have been something more. Something he was missing. That was the only reason for all this.

An unsteady Rocksteady struggled to his knees, shaking the cobwebs from his head, angrier with himself than he remembered ever being. He let himself get caught up in the kid's charm and forgot that he was supposed to be training him. He'd have to punish him for that...

"Not bad kid," he said, as he rose to his feet, "You show some real promise. But we ain't finished yet."

Val could barely contain his excitement. "Y-you mean there's more?"

"'Course dar is." A rather sinister sneer crossed Rocksteady's weather-beaten mug. "If you think that youse is up for it."

Val puffed out his massive chest. "I-I'm ready for anything."

"Good." Without warning a grayed hand clamped down hard on the yellow bulge of Val's trunks. "'Cause round two starts now."

Val let out a little yip as his privates were cruelly squished by Rocksteady's rock-hard paws (no pun intended).

"We're gonna be doin' things a bit... *squeeze* different this time around."

Rocksteady was having entirely too much fun; which, to him, was exactly as it should be. With him in charge. He grinned maliciously as he began to make good on his earlier promise to break the kid by groping the youngster's genitals with ruthless zeal, grinning with delight as the kid squirmed in his grip.

Val moaned as he was forced backwards by the hand on his balls. A tug here, a yank there, the kid was putty in Rocksteady's hands. He paraded his puppet around the ring, hooing and haaing to an imaginary audience, drawing out moans from the kid whenever he deemed appropriate; which was to say, all the time. And whenever Val would struggle against his hold, he would punish the kid by chopping him across the chest with his free arm. Not too hard, though; just enough to keep the kid in his place.

Val, on the other hand, was having problems of his own. The grip Rocksteady had on him was having a strange effect on his lust. And so was Rocksteady himself, but it wasn't until his hero grabbed hold of his family jewels did it start to get out of hand. Feverently he hoped that Rocksteady hadn't noticed. He didn't know what his hero would say if he knew how he felt about him, and wasn't entirely sure how the superstar would react.

Val's lusts, however, was just what Rocksteady had hoped to entice.

He led the kid backwards to the corner turnbuckle, tweaking the kid junk as he did so. Val's cock had already begun to poke out of the top of his trunks, dispelling any hopes he had of keeping his secret crush a secret.

"Well, well, well. Looks like somebod's havin' fun. Better let me take care o' dis."

Using his free hand to push the kid against the turnbuckle he began manhandling Val's manhood harder than before, using his free arm to swat away the kid's protesting hands. He pushed the yellow trunks downwards, whistling in surprise at the sight of Val's bulbous cock.

"Nice. Looks like somebudy's gonna be vary happy."

Val had always been proud of his... equipment, so to speak, the mutation expanding his already proud 9 inch cock into an even prouder 11 incher. The mutagen also granted him beer-can thickness on top of the 2 extra inches, its original color replaced with the dark gray that colorized the hairless parts of his body. A steady stream of precum had already begun to flow from the cockhead, which, naturally, made Rocksteady's work a lot easier. Val moaned and squirmed as Rocksteady continued to manhandle his pride, moving his hand from the top of his dick to the base of his balls, each push and pull drawing gasps of pleasure from said prey.

An untimely eruption brought the festivities to an end, courtesy of Rocksteady's tweaking of one of Val's protracted nips.

"oooogggghhh!!"

"Oh yeeaaahh!"

Val roared as his captivated cock shot ribbons of jism into the air, spraying both captive and captor alike with thick splotches of gorilla juice. Rocksteady relaxed his hold, making a small hole through which Val's pistoning penis could shot its milky cargo. The kid's large tongue lolled out of his mouth has his orgasm dragged on

Rocksteady only withdrew his hand when he was confident that the kid had nothing left, jerking several more loads out for good measure before allowing an exhausted Valentine to drop to his knees. He turned his gaze away from the kneeling mutant and looked at the ring. Batches of thick cum were all over the canvas, most of which were concentrated around their little corner, with a happy trail that lead all the way to the turnbuckle on the other side. There was quite a bit of it on him as well.

"Somebudi's been pent-up. now, what ta do wit' ya..."

Val, meanwhile, was reeling from his first ever handjob: eyes glazed over, head slunk backwards, arms hanging lifelessly. He was a mess: a complete, total, satisfied mess. At the sound of Rocksteady's voice he tilted his head up, quickening at the sight of the veteran's erection tenting his trunks.

While not quite at long at Val's long snogger its girth was at least its equal; the way his tightened trunks hugged his hips made that much apparent. Val felts his loins quicken at the sight of it, re-energized by his libido. Without a thought to the consequences (or anything else for that matter) he yanked down his hero's trunks and sucked his cock into his mouth.

Rocksteady's eyes bulged as he felt something around his dick. He looked down to find Val bobbing away at this cock. And the kid was really getting into it; his movements up and down his dick had already started to pick up speed. The pressure had Rocksteady gasping for air, even as he tried to pry the kid away from his dick.

Before he knew what was going on, Rocksteady found himself in the air, by way of the kid's massive hands, with Val still bobbing away at his dick. The only support he had were the kid's own hands, which were used to hold Rocksteady in place as the kid continued to blow him. Rocksteady's legs quivered as he fought against blowing his load. But the pull the boy's lips had on his cock were strong; just trying to hold it in made his body quiver. Thinking quickly Rocksteady threw his legs around Val's head, thrusting his cock completely into the kid's mouth. His legs applied a grip that sent the kid stumbling.

"Youse... ain't... gonna... get me... that easily."

Val struggled to regain his footing, stumbling backwards against the ropes. The combination headlock/cocklock had him gasping for air. If he didn't do something he'd go out like a light. It was then that an idea came to him. With one hand reached behind Rocksteady and pulled his trunks down, and with the other began to play with his butthole.

The feel of cold fingers around his bum stopped Rocksteady cold. His entire lower body tensed up as the first of Val's meaty digits probed his rim; his legs shooting outwards and away from the kid completely as one of the latter's fingers made its way inside. Rocksteady lulled his head backward as he was blown and probed, the pleasure making him cross-eyed. A second finger made its way inside, sending a jolt though Rocksteady's entire body. The two began spinning around, hugging Rocksteady's inner-walls. And through it all Rocksteady held on.

It wasn't until the third finger found its way inside, and promptly nestled itself on just the right spot, that he was forced to let himself go.

"Ooooouuuugggghhh!"

And let himself go he did. The resultant orgasm saw several loads of rhinoceros baby-batter down Val's throat. Val kept up the assault, pulling Rocksteady out just enough to keep from being choked down by the first explosion, but otherwise didn't let a single drop of cum escape his mouth. Wave after wave of thick, rich rhino spunk flooded the ape-morph's throat, with Rocksteady's hips thrusting with each volley. Rocksteady's eyes glazed over as he felt himself empty into Val's mouth, his mind deliciously blank.

When the kid felt that he had nothing left to give, he lowered him to the ground. And there he held him, rubbing his furry frame against the rhino's heaving body. Swatches of cum still caked on Val's body mingled messily with what was on Rocksteady, giving the rhino's body a dirty sheen. Rocksteady found himself returning the kid's touches, exploring the kid's body with deliberate slowness, their bodies swaying in time with one another. Their lips met, in one gentle motion, the act of which unlocked a passion made apparent in a sudden, subtle quickening of their actions. They continued to explore each other as they kissed, each of their hands lingering just a touch longer on the other's ass. Val's hands groped large handfuls of Rocksteady's ass, making the latter moan into their prolonged kiss.

With his hands on Rocksteady's but he began to step forward, pulling the complacent rhino along with him. He came to a stop in the middle of the ring, around the batches of dried cum and lowered an enraptured Rocksteady onto the canvas. He pulled away from the kiss just long enough remove his trunks, resuming the kiss just as Rocksteady started to do the same with his, leaving the veteran with his trunks around his ankles.

Rocksteady's legs were holstered onto the kid's muscly shoulders; the trunks pulled off and gracelessly tossed aside. Wordlessly he watched as the kid positioned himself, his lust-laden mind rendering him only marginally aware. Rocksteady gave a small gasp as he felt his anus stretched, the feel of several of the kid's fingers making him cross-eyed. He whined when he felt those fingers leave, his body hot and heavy.

The feeling of Val thrusting his giant cock into him bought his world back into sharp relief.

The kid's sexual inexperience was made apparent by his rapid-fire thrusts, the slapping of his hefty balls on Rocksteady's rump accentuated with ape-like grunts. For his part Rocksteady just laid there, his head lopped sideways, too blissed out to do anything but drool. He closed his eyes, his entire world focused on the six and a half foot beast pounding him into oblivion.

His eyes snapped open when he felt a mouth encircling his aching dick, the warm breath making him quiver. His mouth fell open at the sight of his mate and wrestling partner Bebop blowing him down, something which Bebop immediately took advantage of. Before Rocksteady knew what had happened Bebop had thrust his own organ down Rocksteady's waiting gullet and started humping his mouth. Rocksteady's eyes started to water as huge gobs of spit gathered in his mouth around Bebop's intruding cock, forcing him to bite the bullet and return Bebop's affection.

They fell into a pattern: Val and Bebop pumping Rocksteady's ass and mouth respectively while Rocksteady laid there and let the two of them work him over. And with everything that had been going on, it wasn't all that much of a surprise when Rocksteady was the first to cum. He let out a long moan muffled by Bebop's dick as his own shot its second payload down the warthog's greedy mullet. Val was close behind, painting Rocksteady's guts white with his load. Bebop came right on the kid's heels, overloading Rocksteady's mouth with his hot hog juice.

Val pumped several more steamy loads into Rocksteady before pulling out and falling backwards onto the mat, his flaccid dick falling across his empty balls. Rocksteady ran out of juice before Bebop, who pulled off his limp cock before pumping the last of his own load down Rocksteady's throat and falling to the side. They laid there for a minute in a hazy afterglow, their heavy breathing echoing throughout the room.

Rocksteady was the first to recover, turning his head towards his partner. "W-Wha 're you doin' here?"

Bebop chuckled. "Did ya really tink that youse was da only one w'th eyes on da boy? I'm jus glad dat I got here wen I did. Boy was makin' you 'is bitch."

It was Rocksteady's turn to chuckle. "Den you ain't mad?"

Bebop shot up at that. "Course not!" Bebop was rather adamant about that. "We's been goin together fer yers. Ain't gonna let one thing mess dat up."

Rocksteady brusquely wiped away the tears from his face. "Youse got dat right."

Bebop was the first up, helping Rocksteady to his feet. Valentine, who had already recovered, was standing across from them, staring at the two of them with thinly-veiled panic.

Bebop was the first to notice. "Wha're you worrin 'bout? I ain't gonna hurt you."

"B-b-b-but--"

Rocksteady threw an arm over the kid's shoulder. "You did good kid. Real good. Dat bit o' sexing towards the end was all me."

"Yeah." Bebop was on his other side now. "You'se gotta stratin' up if youse wanna look good for da boz."

Val eyes lit up at that. "You mean...?"

"Yeh kid. Welcome to da Foot Clan!"