296Woohoo! Finally an update! Sorry, but RL has been a bear lately. Plus I have to really look again at the last episode, as I do not want to be accused of using it for my Bishop/Stockman/Grant stuff, but MAN! That episode raised some questions that I was already contemplating!
TMNT are the property of Mirage. Dr. Baker is the property of me. Extra thanks to Kya and Terran for suggestions and such! They belong to themselves, btw.
Continue
He woke up in the dark room, disoriented, panicked, alone.
It took several minutes of forced calm breathing to remind himself that he was "safe" for the moment; that he was underground where no one could find him; that he was under the reluctant protection of these mutants.
A clock across the room glowed brightly enough for him to register the time. He'd been asleep for more than just a few hours, it seemed. There was no way of telling if he was looking at AM or PM, but the clock alerted him to the fact that it was 5:11.
He was fairly certain that he had not slept well into the next day.
He lay back down in the dark room, trying to piece it all together. But there were too many distractions in here.
When the one called Donatello had brought him up here, he had tried not to stare at the vast and complicated items that, to an untrained eye would appear to be "clutter", but that Baker had recognized as the workings of a highly-gifted person. He almost began to question the Turtle about some of the interesting things he was seeing, but he felt a certain understandable "coldness" emanating from his host, and had refrained.
Still!
Briefly he wondered if there would be any way he could get word to his friend. Surely she would be worried by now! He had missed the last of his three scheduled meetings with her. It was their standard procedure- they would agree to three different time and location meeting spots. She would not worry if he could not make it to either of the first two, but he knew that she would once again be panicking over his absence from the third.
He wanted to get up, to move, to perhaps get out of here before the one in blue forgot his Sensei's words and attacked him.
Oh, yes, he had heard the argument. Tired as he was, he had heard the venom-filled words of the one called Leonardo as he had argued with the rat over Baker's presence in their home.
This was the fault of Bishop! Such unique beings, and all Bishop could see were four specimens to be dissected and studied, to be used for his own projects, his own "mutations"-
His own creations.
The Slayer prototype- there had been another project that he'd been involved with, though he'd left Bishop's employ before that one had been finally "activated"- but his friend had kept him informed, had told him what had happened. He had not really believed it until about a month ago, when he'd come across that strange man lying semiconscious under that old bridge.
Cold, injured, yet alive; human and yet with strange metal parts here and there- Baker at once had realized that this was one of Bishop's clones- it looked so much like his hated boss- and yet-
Once he'd gotten over the shock of recognition, Baker had done what he could, bandaging strange wounds on the man's torso, face, hands and legs, using up his entire supply of first aid items to do what he could. This may be one of his enemy's "projects", but he was a living being- now. He couldn't turn his back on him, no matter what danger he posed to the scientist. He had then wrapped his own blanket, taken from his last backpack, around the guy, and had gone to phone 911 to come help the man.
And that might actually draw some more unwanted attention to Bishop's agency! Good! They need to be shut down! Someone needs to stop them once and for all! Perhaps this fellow will be the domino that tumbles the rest of them.
Going back to the bridge, he'd found that the man had left!
Great! Just great
Scribbling a hasty note explaining what happened, Baker grabbed his gear and had beat a hasty retreat, even as the sirens began to be heard.
Retreat.
Baker got up, and found his way through the dark room to the door. He had to leave, to get out, to contact his friend. He couldn't stay here. He had to keep moving, get out, go into hiding again.
Outside the door, the large area was lit, and he blinked a few times, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Looking around at this huge place, he marveled at its structure and design. This was obviously not something built by anyone having to do with the construction of the old subway system or sewers!
"Stop sightseeing, stupid," he whispered to himself, making his way down the stairs to the main floor, then glancing around. Quickly he found the entrance, and headed for it.
A noise startled him- someone was in the kitchen. Pans rattled, doors opened and closed, plates and glasses softly clinked. Breakfast was being prepared, evidently.
Frantically he studied the door, figuring out how to open it. Obviously some sort of automated device controlled it, but at the moment it was deactivated.
Now he heard singing... it sounded like an old disco song, but the words were not the same...
"Lookin' for some hot sauce- to make this ome-let- I need some hot sauce to make it right- I want some hot sauce for Raphy's ome-leeeet- got-ta have some hot sauce, got-ta make this omelet bite!"
Baker was almost amused- but he had business. As he searched for the almost certainly hidden keypad, he accidentally knocked against a small stand near the door. The scraping of the wooden legs against the stone floor seemed to echo loudly throughout the room. He froze, sure that someone had heard...
"Hot, hot, hot, hot- ssaauuuce- hot, hot, hot-"
The singer- if he could be called that- was making a rhythmic racket as he went about his cooking. Good. No one would notice if he made any noise.
Finally finding the hidden keypad, he began fussing with the buttons, trying to get one of them to open the door.
Suddenly there was a sort of hydraulic hisssss- and the doors slid open. But the scientist was not able to exit. The blue-clad turtle was blocking his way.
It was hard to determine who was more surprised, Baker at being stopped by Leo, or Leo being "caught" sneaking back in after sneaking out.
His heart jumped within his plastron; for a brief moment he thought Splinter had been waiting there for him. After all, he was still on a sort of grounding- not allowed out unless with his father or one of the others.
That was humiliating enough, but as Raph was now "one of the others" whom he was to go with, Leo was almost beside himself with anger and shame. To be supervised as if he were a turtle tot was one thing. To be supervised by his former inmate was something else entirely!
Baker, taking advantage of the the Turtle's surprise, almost made it out of the lair- almost. In his haste he managed to trip in the relatively dark tunnel not ten yards from the entrance. Then Leo had him on his feet and none too gently hauled him back into the lair and tossed him onto the couch.
"What is going on, my son?"
Splinter's tone was sharp and serious. Leo gulped down his embarrassment at being caught by this human and addressed his master, keeping a glaring watch on the frightened scientist.
"I caught him trying to escape," Leo said simply. "He got out of the lair. I brought him back."
Don by now had shown up. He was puzzled by his brother's brief explanation. Glancing over to the entrance, he saw that the keypad, usually concealed, was visible.
"How did he get the door open?" he wondered. "I set the lock so that only we could work it. It should have at the very least set off the alarm if he got the code right! I made sure of that before I went to bed!"
"Perhaps someone already deactivated it earlier," Splinter said sternly, eyes on his eldest. "Someone who wanted to take a little walk, and not draw attention to his own departure."
Don's eyes went wide even as Leo's closed in frustration. Leo had been there when Don keyed in the command; Don had even given a detailed explanation to his curious brother who had just wanted "assurance that this human can't escape!"
Someone's going to be in trouble the brainy Turtle suddenly grinned to himself. Leo must have escaped- and this scientist busted him!
"Good, you're all up!" Mikey's voice sounded from the doorway of the kitchen. "Breakfast is ready! Come and get it while it's hot! Hey, where's Raph? I made his specially for him."
"Just make sure you don't put any of his on my plate by accident," Leo grumbled, knowing that after they ate he would be in for it big time with Sensei. "I'm not in the mood for molten lava."
"No problem! I made his in a separate pan. And I like it, too, you know. I can't help it if you and Don have wussy stomachs," Mikey grinned. "RAPH! BREAKFAST!" he bellowed at the top of his voice, causing everyone to cringe and Splinter's ears to flatten more than they already were.
Turning his gaze upon the man, Splinter forced his voice to remain polite.
"Please join us in the kitchen, Dr. Baker. Eat something first. Then we will discuss your- plans."
Leo clenched his fists in frustration.
"I am not hungry, Master Splinter. I will wait in the dojo," he said as respectfully as he could, bowing.
"Very well. I will join you shortly. I wish for a cup of tea first."
Leo bowed again, and moved off to the area where Splinter trained them, showing the proper respect as he "entered" the dojo.
Raph, by this time, had come jumping downstairs, landing with a soft thud, and making straight for the kitchen.
"I hope you spiced 'em up good, Mikey," he said, ignoring the situation going on in his family. "I'm in the mood for fireworks!"
"I thing you're going to get them," Don grinned, staring after Leo who was already working out on the heavy bag. "And not just for breakfast."
Splinter faced Leonardo in the dojo. They were alone. Splinter had made sure of that.
After a talk with Dr. Baker, they had convinced him to stay put for the time being, and Raph and Mikey were given the task of getting word to his friend that he was safe.
He had decided that he had to trust them. They had no hidden agenda; they were not going to kill him or use him. He had to trust them.
"Here is her number. She will require two code names-" here he wrote down on the paper with her phone number the words "Harriet Tubman" and the name of his ex-wife- "both strong women, both potentially deadly, but only one was unselfish and cared for others."
Raph and Mikey refrained from comment.
"Place the call as far from the Lair as possible," Don had advised. "No sense in leading anyone to us if her phone is tapped. And here, use this as well- it might help scramble your conversation enough that anyone listening in won't understand you."
"What about this woman understanding us?" Mikey had asked, genuinely curious as he studied the small rectangular item that looked like nothing more than a small plastic box. After all, how did it know which listener to mess up? But Raph was in a hurry, and they left before Don could explain anything beyond how to hook it up to the phone.
"Dr. Baker, I need to speak with my son in private," Splinter had said to the man. "I invite you to sit in my room. Perhaps you would like to rest some more? Feel free to do so in there. My bed is freshly made and though on the floor, it is very comfortable."
The scientist took the hint and retreated to Splinter's room.
That just left Donatello.
"Your room or your lab," Splinter said simply. "And the door is to be closed on both."
Don, face reflecting his disappointment, retreated to his lab to sulk and imagine what was about to take place.
Man! I really want to see Leo get what's coming to him he thought, slumping down in his chair, staring at his various projects.
He had admitted to Mikey earlier that he still felt anger at Leo and Raph for what they had done. Don still felt the "sting" of rejection- for to him, that was what it had amounted to, a rejection of himself as a warrior. He was an excellent and deadly fighter. He had handled his fair share of Purple Dragons, Foot ninja, triceraton warriors, Federation troops, and countless other enemies that had faced them over the past few years.
Yet he was cut out of this final battle with Bishop- deemed "incapable" by his older brothers; too sensitive; too weak.
Too useless.
Even now he could feel the anger building inside, threatening to explode from him in an unaccustomed display of rage.
Maybe Mikey is right- maybe I do need some sort of therapy. Maybe this strange glee I constantly feel at every little bit of trouble Leo gets into is-
His thoughts were interrupted by the tinny voice of his brother. Starting, he glanced around- and his eye came to rest on one of the security monitors. The hidden camera in the lair was aimed right at a long shot of the dojo. He could see Splinter and Leo, tiny but clear.
"How much longer are you going to treat me like a child?"
"How much longer are you going to act like a child?"
Carefully Don adjusted the picture, zooming in as much as he could without losing the perspective, turning up the sound just enough to hear every word.
"You have increasingly grown more immature these past few months," Splinter continued, keeping his voice low but firm. "You have defied me at nearly every turn, fully knowing the consequences, and then you have the audacity to complain when you receive the punishment that you know is coming. This is not like you."
"I am tired, master. I am tired of being cooped up, of being unable to go anywhere or do anything without a chaperone! You have kept me as the leader of my brothers, and yet I am to submit to these same brothers for even a trip to the surface for some air!"
"You knew and accepted these conditions."
"What choice did I have?" Leo bellowed. "You know what the real problem is? The real problem is that you lied! You lied when you said we didn't need forgiveness! Remember that? We begged you for forgiveness, and you said we didn't need it- yet I am still being punished for what we did!"
"Do not raise your voice to ME!" Splinter returned loudly. "Lied to you? LIED to you? And what of you and Raphael? Had you not 'lied' to me and your brothers all those months before this happened? Had you not, by keeping quiet, by plotting in secret, by assuring me that you were just preparing for a future threat, lied to ME?"
"I cannot take back what has happened! I cannot change what has happened! Bishop is dead, killed by me and Raph! I'm glad he's dead! I would have danced in his blood if I'd had the strength!"
"That is not the way of the warrior!"
"Then what is? I should cry over Bishop's grave? I should honor his memory the way Mikey wants to honor that slayer? Yeah, let's have a memorial service for Agent Bishop, the man who nearly killed us all! Excellent idea, master!"
Leo should have been prepared, but he wasn't. The slap was fast and furious and even Don started in surprise at the speed with which his father had moved!
"You and I will have this out now," Splinter said to his stunned son. "You and I will have this out now with the bokken. No safety equipment. No pulled strikes. We will have this out now. You best me, and I will release you from your 'imprisonment'. I best you, and you will stop acting like a child."
Leo stood there, the sting of Splinter's hand still on his cheek. He stood frozen as Splinter moved to the weapons rack, returning with the solid wood swords.
Leo and Raph once had gone at each other like this. Splinter, years ago, had had enough of their constant fighting during one particularly long rainy season, when they'd been cooped up in their home because the sewers were overflowing and unsafe. Splinter had had enough, and had armed them with the bokken, telling them to "beat each other senseless until you can no longer lift your weapons. Then you will both go to bed without supper."
Man! That had hurt! He and Raph really thought that each would easily beat the other- and after the first few incredibly painful blows, they'd started pulling their attacks, each not wanting to hurt the other. Once each had tasted the pain that a forcefully swung bokken could inflict, they had become less aggressive, despite the urging of their father to "hit harder! You both wanted to fight! Fight!"
By mutual agreement they had stopped, dropped their bokken, then bowed to Splinter and went to bed without a word but with many a silent tear.
And later, when Don and Mike were sound asleep, Splinter had brought them their dinner anyway, and had made them see that by constantly fighting, they were hurting their family.
"You could not, after the first few blows, continue to hurt each other," he had said kindly. "But your actions of the past few days have hurt me and your brothers as much, if not more, than the physical actions of being hit by a weapon wielded in anger."
Now Splinter stood before him, waiting for his son to attack, to once again take out his anger on a family member.
He stared at the bokken in his hand, then dropped it to the floor, and sank down to his knees, bowing is submission.
"I do not believe that you have let go of your anger," Splinter said simply. "But I will not strike you or push you further into this. When you begin to show the same maturity as Raphael in this situation, then you will be free from this 'imprisonment'."
Splinter was right, Leo thought, still bowed to the floor. He still had the anger. But for the moment, it was in check. He would not be goaded into this action.
But this wasn't over. Not yet.
"Go to your room until lunch please," Splinter said. Leo arose, bowed to his Sensei, and left with the dignity that a leader should show.
Splinter stood there, following him with his eyes. Then he turned and stared directly at the security camera.
"And as for you, Donatello- you will do one hundred flips before bedtime, and then you are grounded for two weeks. And no Internet. Or trips to Leatherhead's place. OR junkyard."
Don, in his lab, stared at the screen in disbelief.
"Damn," was all he could say.