Chapter 1 : Routine
"...my point is... when I ask for a wrench, that don't mean you pick up a wrench and mess with my girl while I'm out gettin' us lunch." Raph popped the top on his Dr. Pepper, eyeing Casey angrily.
Casey took a bite of a turkey sub, shrugging as shredded lettuce dropped across his lap. "I was jus' tryin' to help. Make her run real smooth, y'know?"
Raph gestured at his motorcycle with the can, sloshing some of the cold soda onto the cement floor. "All she does is stall out! You call dat 'help'? Eh!" He shook his head, and waved Casey off in frustration, taking a long gulp of the soda. That didn't satisfy him for long, though, and he was turning on Casey for more. "You got some nerve, you know dat?"
"Nerve!" Casey looked offended, propping one foot on a milk crate as he lounged across the seat of his own motorcycle. "I can't help it if my ride's runnin' all smooth-like, and yours aint. I got nothin' to do around here."
"Then why don'tcha go home! Heh? Geddoutta here." Raph took a menacing step toward Casey, though Casey was all too used to this abusive approach to conversation. In fact, he enjoyed it, and the gleam in his eye gave that away as he stood up with a clumsy stomp.
"FINE! Maybe I will. I'll just go, and... let you make a wreck of that bike you just got your hands on, there, until all you got's a pile of scrap metal. That sound good to you?" He took a large, sideways bite out of the sub, and wiped mayonnaise from his mouth with the back of his hand. It tasted a little funny, and he looked down at it with a scrunched up expression. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"
Raph crossed his arms. "Where d'you think? I'm a giant turtle."
Casey looked back at him, baffled. "Subway?"
"Not the one you're thinkin' of." Raph shook his head, and went back to his bike, crouching down beside it to look at the engine. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Casey not to tinker with things... it was most likely sabotage. The constant competition between the two of them, over who had a better bike, whose engine was smoother, whose paint job was slicker... it would've driven Raph to do the same thing, had Casey been the one to get lunch. Not to permanently damage Casey's bike, or put anyone in danger... just to see Casey's twisted expression of confusion as he tried to figure out what was wrong with it.
It was the expression Raph was making right at that moment. Casey stood over Raph's shoulder, chewing on turkey and swiss... pointing to the engine. "Really purred like a kitten, for a while. Shoulda seen 'er."
Raph emitted a growling sigh.
"Is she a four-stroke, or a two-stroke?"
Raph and Casey both looked back to the doorway, where Donatello stood casually. Raph was less then thrilled at his brother's emergence from his technological temple of wires and motherboards.
"Whatsit?" Raph asked with clear-cut confusion.
"The engine. Is it a four-stroke, or a two-stroke?"
"Two." Raph answered blandly, staring at Don.
"Oh." Donnie seemed cheerful, despite Raph's unencouraging expression. "Well, she's probably air-cooled, which means you can't let her idle down here for too long. Not in this heat." He crossed his arms, and leaned casually against the stone archway that lead from the "garage", to the rest of the lair.
Casey scratched the back of his head. "What, she overheated?"
Donnie nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "A two-stroke's got a lot of advantages over the four-stroke... more power, lighter build, environmentally friendly... but most of them don't have a cooling system. If you're not moving, you'll overheat. Let her sit a little longer, and try again. Oh, and, uh... you might want to see about some ventilation down here." He looked around at the enclosed space. "You'll wind up killing brain cells. I know there aren't too many to spare, between the two of you." The tone behind Donnie's jab was friendly, and he gave the two of them a small smile and a salute, before heading back in the direction of his lab.
Raph looked after his brother with glowering distaste.
--------------------------------
It was the least Don could do… slide into the conversation, out-mechanic Raphael, and disappear before a power tool flew through the air, aimed at his head. (It'd happened before.) Sure, Mikey had the power of the goofball, and Leo was straightforward about insulting anyone's intelligence, but Donnie preferred a passive-aggressive approach. It probably wouldn't have taken Raph another ten minutes to decide his engine had overheated. Getting there before him must've been infuriating.
Smirking, Donnie stepped back into his "lab", a section of the sewer den dedicated to whatever chemical, electronic, or mechanical interests happened to be on his mind. A cup of cold coffee sat on the desk among a scattered pile of notes and wires, and the screen saver on his PC monitor displayed several toasters in flight. Behind him, he could hear Casey and Raph, argumentative as usual, and the slicing and klinking of Leo's swords, echoing across the damp cement walls of the den as he practiced in the center. And there in front of him, no better than it had been a few moments ago, Don's latest project.
"What's that thing?"
Don was startled by his brother's voice. Mike didn't seem apologetic, and only stared at Donnie curiously for the answer to his question. Donnie sighed.
"It's supposed to be a vital signs monitor."
Mikey looked at the boxy contraption, and the wires spilling out of bent metal edges.
"Um… I think it's dead, Donnie. Flatline." He gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Sometimes you just gotta learn when to let go, dude."
"No, it'll work…" he snatched up the monitor with another sigh, and turned to lean back against the edge of the messy desk. "I almost had it. This would've been great!"
"Great for our family veterinarian." Mike shrugged, not really grasping the greatness. "What happened to it?"
"Raph got angry." Don plopped the monitor back on the desk, and it rolled to one side with a metallic clanking reminiscent of scrap metal. Mikey frowned.
"Ouch. My condolences."
Donnie started to straighten some papers around the area, pushing a flashlight and a Rubik's cube out of his way. "Yeah. And it's not like I can just pick up another one… those things are expensive, and hospitals don't exactly just throw them away. This really would've been worth it."
"Can't we just… monitor our own vitals?" Mike took a deep breath, and let it out, and then looked thoughtful, before nodding in approval. "Yup. Still breathing."
Donnie rolled his eyes. "Mikey…" He sounded sort of annoyed, and Michaelangelo took that as a cue to turn and leave. But not without monitoring his own vitals as he did, his hand across his plastron.
"Blip… blip… blip…YEOW!" A slice of Leo's katana, and a few stumbling steps. "Leo! Almost gave me a heart attack, bro."
Donnie let his gaze move slowly across the surface of his desk, lost in thought.
--------------------------------
Leo let Michaelangelo pass by him, and ignored the hopping steps his brother took while making exclamatory comments about angina. The interruption only cost him a few moments out of his kata, and as soon as the area was clear again, he continued.
The long strokes of the blade as it sliced through the air, the clean blocks accompanied by a sharp kiai, and the rhythmic steps that led Leo through the kata like a violent dance gave him time to focus, and think. The space in the lair was his own, and he could feel balance in his body and mind, quiet in--
vrrp-VRRROOOM!
The roar of a motorcycle engine bounced through the sewer den, followed by a raucous cheering from Raph and Casey. Leo stubbed his toe on an exposed pipe that stuck up through the cement floor.
"Damnit!" He muttered, and sighed, resetting his stance, and blancing the katanas in his hands. Where was he? Right, the quiet in his soul. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to center himself.
"Leo!" A voice came suddenly from the kitchen.
"What, Mikey." He responded through clenched teeth.
"Didja know we're out of peanut butter, bro?"
"Yes! I knew."
"Oh. Okay!" A cabinet door closed with a thump.
Leo gave an annoyed glare toward the kitchen.
Seriously.
He sighed again, and shook his head, his expression relaxing, fading into defeat. He'd be better off heading to the rooftops after sunset to get some practice in. As he slipped his swords back into their sheaths on his back, he saw Donatello emerge from his lab.
"Hey. Any luck with the monitor?"
Donnie shook his head sadly, and gave Leo a cut-throat gesture, indicating the gadget's untimely fate. Leo's brow furrowed with concern as he watched Don.
"You going out?"
Donnie paused, picking up his bo from the corner of the room. "Yeah." He gave Leo a small smile. "Just a junk run. No worries."
Leo nodded, and crossed his arms as he watched Donnie head for the door. He was suddenly struck with a brilliant plan.
"Hey, Don!"
Donnie stopped at the door, turning to Leo with a pleasant demeanor, one hand on the brick frame as he held his bo in the other like a walking stick. "Yeah?"
Leo smiled sheepishly. "Pick up some peanut butter?"
--------------------------------
Don's bo slid against his shell with a dull "shhk!" as he placed the weapon into his belt. He wasn't likely to need it, as he traveled the sewer tunnels beneath the city on his way to the junk yard. It was midday, and the worst of the worst always presented itself in the dead of night, rarely below the streets. The tunnels were friendly, lit softly here and there with sunshine streaming in through manhole covers and metal grates. The muffled hum of busy traffic created a pleasant backdrop of distant sound, and the occasional construction vehicle softly rippled the rainwater that ran down the center of the tunnel.
Donnie watched as a rat looked up from a discarded candy wrapper, startled by his presence. The animal scuttled into a crack in the cement, leaving the bits of chocolate covered paper. The number of rats in the area had been slowly increasing as he neared the junk yard, although he didn't mind too much... they reminded him of Splinter.
A few more blocks and a short climb to the surface brought Donatello to the gates of the junk yard. The place was like a convenience store for him... he could stop by anytime to pick up a few car batteries, an old hard drive, or a CB radio. He eagerly hopped onto a stack of wooden palettes, and extracted his bo to vault to the other side of the chain link fence. Today they had a special on medical equipment repair.
Don landed softly on the ground, and surveyed the area. He could see the guard at the booth near the entrance on the other side of the lot. The blue-uniformed junk-keeper seemed to be taking a nap. The access road nearby was also silent. Slow day for junk. Good day for Donnie.
He headed off into the valley that led between mountains of scrap metal and discarded gadgets, and began to shop. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for, but he knew there must be some way to bring that vital signs monitor back to life. Heh... wasn't that ironic. He wasn't ready to give up on something that had been so hard to get his hands on in the first place. He had his sights ultimately set on some pretty sweet gear to equip himself and his brothers for their more difficult missions. Working solo would be easier, and getting split up would be a lot less detrimental. Monitoring his brothers meant being there without really being there.
Of course, Raph had to destroy the equipment before Don's dream could even be realized. Not that the hothead had meant to kick the monitor across the room and into the wall. He didn't know what the metal box was for. Don, of course, thought that maybe Raph shouldn't go around kicking strange metal boxes, and spare them all some woes. That was maybe a bit much to ask. He grumbled to himself in annoyance as he dug through a pile of electronics wires.
Loud, angry barking made him look up from his task. He'd completely forgotten about the dobermans.
