[center][img=http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/27/r169_457x256_6314_Foot_Clan_2d_fan_art_teenage_mutant_ninja_turtles_tmnt_picture_image_digital_art.jpg][/center]

[i]Thud![/i]

It was done, the leader of the 49th Street Stompers laid dead in front of her. The sentence of The Shredder had been carried out and it had been far too easy, far too simple. Karai never hesitated in her duty and at this point in her life had become sort of desensitized to the ruthlessness and the savagery. As the daughter of The Shredder she was expected not to feel or hesitate which for the most part Karai gladly proved she was the glowing example of perfection. However, the feeling preluding her previous encounter with the stompers still persisted. The young girl had to wonder why her body ached the way it had and why the spirits were calling out to her. She couldn’t understand it and she did not want to. Tora had told her to be ‘at peace with it’ but that was very much easier said than done. 

How long would it be before the feeling made her so uncomfortable that her father would notice and punish her for influencing her actions? When would it come to that? She did not want to fail her father once again as the last time she had he had given her something to remember such foolishness—a physical reminder of her failing him. The clawed scar still ran down her shoulder to the bottom of her left bicep. She was lucky he did not mark her for all to see… perhaps it was because she was his daughter after all?

<”Idiot.”> Karai cursed in her traditional Japanese tongue under her breath, reflecting on such speculative heresy was something her father could smell and not simply see. The Shredder had an ability of observation that few could compete with—one of the reasons why he was a terrible foe to go up with as he would analyze your every move and every possible follow-up to crush you. Something Karai had seen firsthand when a former clan member stood up against her father in a duel that would cost them their life.

Karai shook her head as she decided to move on—her mission was done, dwelling here helped no one so the best course of action was to leave, meditate, and return to her father. She would not ponder what effect the destruction of the 49th Street Stompers would have on the streets of New York nor the gang politics of their rivals, the Purple Dragons.

It did not concern her. They would all swear allegiance to The Shredder; in life or in death.