[OOM: The rooftop overlooking the Lake]

The moon hangs high in the partly cloudy sky.
The is air is brisk and threatens of rain.
All around the signs of the impending fall have begun to take shape.

This was his brother's season. He lived for this time of year.
The nights would get longer, meaning more time to explore.
The weather was colder, meaning more time street level.

Mike listens to the last-ditch chirping of the crickets down below. They're too loud.
They should be entirely drowned out by the not so subtle stylings of Pearl Jam or Metallica or even N.W.A.
He turns and looks at the long time dark tent. The long dark, and empty tent.

Mike thinks back to the first time he walked through the front flap.
How easy it was, it's always been, to get past Raph's so called defenses.
Just come at him straight. He never sees that coming, because he never expect anyone to fight like he does.

Someone has him now because they came at him head on, and he never saw it coming.

Growing up it was always Raph that looked after him.
At some point that changed, and it was Mike that who became his brother's keeper.
He's not sure when it happened, but there's no denying that it did.

Mike turns back to take in the Lake.
A fin surfaces and splits the once still water.
The leaves rustle as a breeze moves its way across the open space.

Mike tries to concentrate on where the wind is coming from, how a salt water fish can live in a fresh water lake, anything that isn't where his brother is right now.
He tries to concentrate as he takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales into the wind.