Well, here I am diving briefly into 3 new fandoms. Please forgive me for anything that isn't quite right. For context, this takes place in an intersection of 4 different shows – Flashpoint is somewhere in the neighborhood of Season 3, Criminal Minds is somewhere in Season 4, Leverage is at the end of the series, and TMNT (2003) is after "Turtles Forever." You don't have to worry about any spoilers for anything, I think, though if you don't know how the last episode of Leverage goes, you might be a little confused. And you literally don't need to know anything about the ninja turtles except that one of them is a certifiable computer/biochemical/mechanical engineering genius with access to alien technology.

As for how this came about, well...let's just say that these 4 series have 4 of the best hackers in fiction and I just had to put them together for some fun and chaos.

Enjoy!

"Okay, that's it! Winnie, next time Inspector Loudmouth needs SRU backup, tell him to call Team Three!"

Winnie looked up from her post and had to snap her jaw shut to keep from laughing out loud. "When you said Sam needed a shower, I didn't…" She glanced at the Sarge, who was barely suppressing his own grin.

"Yeah, he kinda took a swan dive into the grease storage tank. Shorted out the comm." Greg Parker winked at her. "Spike wouldn't let him ride in the van."

"Hey!" Spike popped up on Parker's other side, openly delighted. "That equipment is sensitive and it gets enough abuse as it is!"

Sam Braddock stomped past wearing boots and a rescue blanket and apparently not a lot else. Behind him, Jules carried a garbage bag presumably holding his clothing. Sam's hair was slicked down and globs of grease clung to him everywhere – those that didn't drip to the floor and trail after him. Ed Lane and Wordy were following with Sam's bag of gear between them, loudly discussing the smell of French fries.

"Next time, you go find a perch on a catwalk that couldn't hold a cat!" Sam was glowering at everyone, but the thick stuff matting down his hair took away from any sternness he could have managed.

Jules snorted at him. "Check the transcript, Sam. I'm pretty sure I heard Ed telling you not to go up there in the first place."

"She's got a point." Wordy was grinning, too.

"And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should always listen to your commanding officer." Greg said it with fond amusement, not censure. "Speaking of which – debrief. Twenty minutes." He looked at Sam. "Make it thirty."

Sam said something under his breath and headed for the locker room, Jules and Wordy following.

"Okay, but don't forget that we gotta wrap this up early, Sarge," Spike said.

"Yeah, I remember. You got a thing."

Ed slapped Spike on the back. "Big date?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not even. But I got official PTO starting at 9pm and I am not gonna be late!" He turned back to the central desk. "Winnie?"

"You're all set." She smiled at him. "Paperwork's even been approved."

"I signed off on it as a training exercise." Greg raised an eyebrow at Spike. "Don't make me have to explain it any other way, okay?"

"Yeah, boss. Thanks!" Spike headed to the cage to unload his own gear.

Ed waited until Greg turned, knowing he didn't need to say anything. Greg Parker was the best sargeant Ed had ever known – not just at leading Team One through every hot call and every crisis, but at reading and understanding people. Ed had seen Greg back subjects off homicidal rages and desperate sprees with nothing but compassion and patience. Everyone on Team One could talk someone down, and they all trained on connecting and de-escalation, but Greg was the undisputed master. On the other hand, everyone on the team was a practiced sniper and officer, but Ed was their tactical leader for a reason. Between them, if Greg couldn't talk down a subject peacefully, Ed would make sure TeamOne brought situation to a close one way or another.

So much of their relationship was unspoken, based on wordless trust and the highest loyalty. But it did help things that Greg could practically read Ed's mind nine times out of ten.

"It's some kind of international computer nerd thing," Greg answered Ed's unasked question. "A bunch of different hackers around the world trying to out-hack each other. Spike's going up against individuals from every agency in Canada and the US and the UK."

"So, like a tournament? Is there a prize?" Ed wanted to know.

Spike turned to yell from the cage. "Besides the most epic of bragging rights ever? Whatever strategies the various participants come up with that prove successful will be documented and distributed to law enforcement as part of a university study."

"Crowd-sourcing problem solving." Ed nodded. "I like it." He looked back at Greg. "He's doing it here?"

"All participants must be operating from verified police or federal agencies to prevent the bad guys from using our tricks against us. Also, Spike didn't want to be yelling at his computer in front of his mom."

Ed started shifting out of his vest and joined Spike in the cage for the process of unloading. "So, can we watch? Lay some bets?"

Spike kept his head down but he was smiling. "It'll be pretty boring. Just a lot of typing."

"So just like every other day in the van with you then."

"You're only interested because you wanna see me get my butt kicked in cyberspace for once."

"No." Ed was still smiling, but he was sincere. "I wanna see you hold up the proud name of Team One of the Strategic Response Unit and teach those federal guys not to underestimate us."

Greg appeared at Spike's shoulder and nudged him with an elbow. "Unless us being there will distract you. Otherwise, yeah, we'll gladly cheer you on."

Spike swallowed. Team One spent their days fighting terrorists and chasing bombers and talking down desperate people with guns – and they coped by holding one another tightly so they could all stand together. They all had families outside the job, but they were also a family on the job. More than any other unit Spike had ever called his own, Team One was his family in ways he could not even describe. And it never, never stopped surprising him or mattering to him when they proved it once again.

Spike glanced up. Greg Parker's eyes were warm and steady. Of course the Sarge knew the sudden feelings of belonging that were swamping Spike's heart; they were right there in Greg's as well.

"Then we better get to that debrief so we're done in time, right boss?"

Greg smiled, pleased and proud, and Spike promised himself again to win this tournament for his team.

Except.

"Just...one thing."

"Let me guess." Ed leaned over. "You got some stiff competition?"

"It kinda depends."

"On?"

"Whether or not a certain FBI unit is in the field working a case right now."

-==OOO==-

"Is there a reason we can't do this in the briefing room?" David Rossi raised his hands at the various glares sent his way. "I'm just saying. It isn't that your office isn't...colorful."

"To win this competition, I need more than a tablet and a wifi connection." Garcia didn't even turn around as she continued routing the various monitors throughout her beloved, highly personalized room to make it easier for her team to follow along with the tournament.

"Don't we have some kind of super computer lab somewhere?" Reid asked. He was squashed into a chair shoved in a corner with his back against something that might be a server or maybe it was a crazy microwave – he didn't know and he didn't want to know. "It seems like that's the sort of thing we'd have around here. Wouldn't a full lab have even better resources than your private office?"

"No, don't ask that question." Aaron Hotchner was leaning against the door.

"Why not?"

"Because she'll explain it to you."

"Hey!" Garcia paused long enough to glare around the room. "If you want to make jokes, you can just go...elsewhere." She looked up at Hotch, whose expression was firm, and belatedly added, "Sir."

"Don't listen to them, mama." Morgan was perched right behind Garcia and he put his hands on her shoulders. "Just focus on being your goddess self."

"It's not like we all have to be here." JJ was ensconced in the chair that put her in range of giving Garcia a hug and poking Reid in the side. "I mean, I already said I'd keep you company since Prentiss is off having dinner with some friend of her mom's."

"And I'm not gonna miss a minute of my baby girl's brilliance," Morgan added.

"Then what are we doing here?" Rossi asked.

Reid pointed at JJ. "She promised to let me take Henry to get his first Vulcan Science Academy t-shirt if I behaved myself."

"Which didn't mean you had to be here, Spence."

Reid shrugged. He had a book in his hands and he could easily read it in spite of the distraction his team provided, but that was something he'd resort to only if everyone else left. Until then, there was something nice about being crammed in with the rest of his BAU team without being in a van or a plane or chasing after someone both deranged and dangerous.

Hotch cleared his throat. "As for me, I told the Director I would personally supervise," he said.

Rossi looked up at him. "You and what expertise? She could be recoding nuclear missiles in here and you wouldn't be able to tell the difference." Before anyone could respond, he turned his most flattering smile on Garcia, already beginning to object. "Not that you would, of course, dear."

Hotch raised one shoulder. "Still, given her history, her participation was contingent upon my agreement that I would keep her strictly within the agreed-upon parameters of the tournament."

Garcia shifted her line of sight back over her shoulder, momentarily unsure. Hotch was not a demonstrative man in general and his boss-man voice could freeze water on a good day. But he gave her a nod and there was a slight pull at one side of his mouth that told her he was obeying the order but did not consider it necessary. That he still trusted her as he always had.

She let out a breath and returned her focus to finishing her preparations.

Rossi chuckled. "I really do see way too much of you people." But he settled down in his chair anyway and reached for the glass of scotch he had brought in from his office for just this reason.

Morgan smiled and sat back to give Garcia some room. "So. What rules will you be following at all times while you wipe the floor with every other computer nerd in the world?"

This time Garcia spun fully in her chair so she could face them all. When she spoke, though, it wasn't in the same manner she gave case briefings – direct though still warm and bubbly. This explanation poured out of her in an excited, cheerful rush.

"Okay. Today's hackathon is a legal, nonprofit exercise sponsored by several universities working together to pit Denial-of-Service attacks against potential real-time solutions. Everyone who registered will be assigned the role of a DoSer or a defender. The DoSers have to try to get into a set of servers on a specially-secured network and take them over. The defenders have to stop the attacks and lock the DoSers out. Defenders have specific servers they're holding to start, but the DoSers can go anywhere on the network they want and take down as many servers as they can get. Every hour, anyone not in control of at least one server gets kicked out of the game. Like musical chairs. But with typing."

"How do you win?" JJ asked.

"When there's only two people left, whoever controls the most servers at the end of the current hour wins."

"How long do you think this whole competition will go?" Rossi asked, eyeing his scotch.

Garcia smiled. "It depends. I know most of the players and can hack circles around some of them. There's a few who are as good as me, but, unsurprisingly, most of the people who would present a real challenge aren't exactly cozy with law enforcement."

"So you're gonna dominate." Morgan grinned.

"Maybe." Garcia pointed to one screen up in a corner. "That's the list of players currently signed in. See the really stupid-looking guy?"

Reid blinked. "Who's that? And why did they put such an awful picture in their public profile?"

"That's someone I didn't give a choice about his userpic." Garcia spun back to the computer. Her polka-dotted kitty clock was ticking down the last minute before the tournament began. "And the only person with a real shot of taking me down."

-==OOO==-

"No, seriously, Spike, that is the worst picture I've ever seen!"

"That's 'cause you haven't seen the one from two hours ago when you were swimming in bacon grease." Spike didn't even look up at him.

"You did not get a picture of that!"

"Who are you talking to? Of course he did." Wordy leaned over. "Can you send it to me?"

"Sure thing, man."

"No way! Spike, you gotta delete that thing."

"Not a chance." Spike wasn't even raising his head now, typing so quickly the clack of his keyboard was more of a constant purr.

"Why exactly did you choose that picture, anyway?" Jules asked.

Spike sent off a command and swapped screens. "It's a bet I have with my friend from the FBI. Any time we both sign up for the same hackathon, we try to beat each other. Loser is stuck with a bad derpface userpic until the next round."

"And how many times have you actually beat this friend?" Ed asked. He was passing out the snacks Winnie had sent a rookie to get, making himself comfortable along one side of the long table that filled up the conference room Spike had reserved for the night. It wasn't as big or as nice as their proper debriefing room, but it was out of the way and had plenty of room to seat Team One comfortably – in spite of the sheer volume of computer equipment Spike had hauled in from somewhere the instant Greg had finished the debriefing. In less than an hour, Spike had turned a simple conference room into a mini version of the SRU truck.

"Current score is me – fifteen, PG – twenty-six."

"Ouch! So this could be a long night for you." Greg handed a cup of coffee from Timmy's over to Sam. Spike was on PTO for the night, but the rest of Team One was on call until midnight; they had to stay sharp and couldn't indulge in anything stronger than Timmy's darkest brew for now. But Greg had already stashed some beer in a corner in case Spike was still going once they were officially off the clock.

"Yeah, but I got a plan this time." Spike sent a scrolling code to one screen while he began furiously typing on the next. "Garcia is the best, but I know her tricks. She'll get so caught up in trying to DoS as many servers as she can, she might forget to watch her own back door."

"You're gonna go all hard tactical on the rear while you keep her distracted out front?"

Spike blinked at Jules. "That's one way to put it, sure."

"Can I just ask?" Greg raised a hand. "Do I need to be worried about you actually breaching the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit system and having to explain an international incident to the Deputy Chief?"

"I hope so!" Spike paused. "I mean, no boss. Definitely no international incidents here."

"Good. Just checking."

Jules leaned over to Sam. "Fifty bucks says Sarge gets a call from someone in the FBI within two hours."

"You're on."

"I didn't hear that," Greg said. He deliberately looked at Ed. "You placing any bets?"

"Yeah. I'll bet a week of cage cleanup that Spike kicks this girl's ass."

"I'll take that bet." Wordy leaned back in his chair, smirking.

Spike shot him a rapid-fire glare. "You're betting against me? That's low, buddy."

"I'm betting according to the odds. If she's beat you two out of three, I can see which way the wind's blowing."

Ed snorted. "You just hate cleanup."

"Talk to me about cleaning up when you've got more kids, Eddie."

Ed put up his hands. "No thank you. One's enough trouble."

"Ha!" Spike raised both hands in victory before crouching over the keyboard once more.

"Did you get her?" Jules asked.

"Not Garcia, no. But I just launched a counter-attack that'll keep everybody fighting each other so they won't have time to come after my servers."

Sam leaned forward. "And now that you have fortified your position and distracted your enemies?"

Spike's grin went fierce. "Now I get revenge on Miss Penelope."

-==OOO==-

"Oh! You did not just come at me with that lame script, you little twerp!" Garcia shifted another page of scrolling data onto a nearby screen and focused on the information before her. "You're gonna pay for that, Scarlatti."

Morgan was staring in fascination at the various running tallies and the chat rooms and everything else spread across all of Garcia's monitors. "Somehow I never thought hacking would be so...intense. It's like...well, it's not exactly like sports, but it's got a certain somethin' going on."

"Well, whenever nerds rage, the world trembles." JJ grinned as she said it.

Reid nodded. "It's true! There's no one quicker to anger than wizards. Look it up."

"I'll take your word for it."

Rossi waved to Hotch, who bent near enough to hear him speak in an undertone. "You don't see it the same way when we're in the field, but she is really good at this, isn't she?"

"She's the best," Hotch said. "We're lucky to have her. Any agency in the country would take her – if they could see past her history."

"How'd you get her, anyway? Other than arresting her?"

Hotch glanced at Morgan, then raised an eyebrow.

Rossi smirked.

Morgan looked over his shoulder and whispered, "Did you just imply you recruited Garcia by…?"

From the computer, Garcia spoke up. "By tempting me with your fine black ass and your to-die-for biceps? You know it, chocolate thunder."

JJ winced. "Annnnnd the 'things I did not need to know' tally for the day goes up by one."

"Studies suggest that if you are sufficiently distracted right after an unpleasant experience, your brain may fail to correctly store the experience in its long-term memory and you may be more easily able to forget it entirely." Reid grinned at her. "I could distract you if you want."

"Coming from anyone but you, Spence, that would sound dirty."

"Do I even want to know what kind of distraction you have in mind?" Rossi asked.

"I've got a distraction for you!" Garcia's voice was tinged with gleeful triumph. "It's called kicking ass and taking names, PG style!"

-==OOO==-

"No! No no no no no…" Spike trailed off in a low groan.

The large projector was split into six screens and there were red warnings popping up over all of them. Only the tally-board in the bottom corner that tracked how many players were still involved in the tournament, a much smaller number than had been present an hour prior, remained free of the cascading alerts. Those few who were still in the game had stats next to their usernames showing which servers they controlled.

All at once, most of the other players vanished and the stats next to user 'BabyG1rl_BQ' skyrocketed. Onto one of the central screens a picture of a black kitten appeared with a caption that read, "I am the Supreme Font of all Wisdom. Surrender unto your derpy fate, mortal!"

Ed burst out laughing. "Let me guess? Your friend?"

The kitten was replaced by a scrolling set of increasingly terrible pictures of Spike, all dated with the exact competition he had lost.

"I had no idea your nostrils could do that," Wordy told Spike.

"Shut up."

"Does this mean it's over?" Sam asked.

"Not...quite." Spike closed a number of windows to open a new screen where he began typing furiously. "She's locked me out of my attack angle, but that doesn't mean I can't hold onto my servers. She hasn't breached my defenses yet."

"Given the scoreboard, though, looks like everybody else is done for," Greg said.

"I told you she was good."

"Looks to me like she's the only one left," Jules said. "Everyone else's servers are being overrun, too. You're the only holdout."

"For now. But there's twenty minutes left and now she's going to be coming for me with everything she's got. And I've got to get a few more servers myself since I'm outnumbered." Spike pulled up two new scripts and started them running. "But I'm not out of ideas yet."

Sam was still watching the scoreboard. "Hey. There's someone still in the game."

Spike actually paused and checked the list of users. "Huh. Must have grabbed one of the servers while Garcia's attack was running and got skipped." He blinked. "That's weird."

"What's weird?" Wordy asked.

"It's a name I don't know."

"Do you really know every single hacker in the world?" Ed was smiling as he said so, and it was equally likely that he was teasing Spike as that he honestly believed it was possible that their resident computer genius did know every single noteworthy peer in law enforcement.

"If they're any good and they're on our side, yeah. I guess it could be some new hotshot right out of training."

A moment later, fully half the servers under Garcia's control flipped to the new user.

"Or not." Spike grinned. "This guy is good."

"What kind of username is 'duz_machines84' anyway?" Jules asked.

"Hey. Spike's is 'DaddyCakes.' Nothing is worse than that."

"Sam, I swear I'm going to put that grease picture of you up on every computer station in the PD. I could do it, too."

"I'm amending my original statement," Greg said quickly. "No international incidents and no incidents that get us involved with internal investigations. 'Kay?"

Spike didn't have time to respond – half of his servers vanished from his screens and 'duz_machines84' showed the increase on their side.

A new icon flashed at the bottom corner. Muttering and swearing under his breath, Spike hit it.

"Okay, who's the new kid on the block? Because he is seriously messing with my mojo!" Penelope Garcia didn't even stop typing as she ranted into her webcam. Around her, several other figures were visible, all leaning close.

"Hiya, Pen. Kinda busy!"

"Is that DaddyCakes?"

Spike glanced up. "Derek Morgan, right?"

"Yeah? Have we met?"

"Not unless you spend a lot of time in Toronto. But I've heard stories."

"My fuzzy friends, meet Spike's fuzzy friends," Garcia said. "They're part of Toronto SRU's Team One."

"Good evening," Greg said. "Nice to meet you. I'm Sergeant Parker and these are Constables Ed Lane, Jules Callaghan, Sam Braddock, and Wordy. Our resident geek over there is Spike."

A very serious-faced man with dark hair in the back gestured to the faces trying to mug the camera at once without getting in the way of Garcia's flying fingers. "I'm Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. Special Agents Rossi, Jareau, Morgan, and Doctor Reid."

"Yeah, yeah, pleasantries," Spike muttered. "Pen! You seeing this?"

"I'm seeing. I'm just not believing. Nobody can cold-gen a learning system that fast!"

"I think we've got a new player!"

"What's my time?" Garcia asked.

"Ten minutes, baby girl," Morgan told her.

Sam smirked and glanced at Jules.

Jules glared at him. "You call me that even once, Braddock, and I will hit you back with every rookie prank you boys haven't even imagined yet."

"There is no way your pranks are as good as ours," Ed said, shaking his head.

"Two words for you. Pig. Intestines."

"She means it," Wordy said. "Girls are vicious."

Garcia grinned and paused typing long enough to hold up a hand. "Girl power, JJ!"

"You know it!" JJ gave her a high-five.

Spike pounded a fist on the table. "Garcia!"

"I know, but I can't lock him out!"

All of the servers suddenly appeared in duz_machines84's name except one each held by Garcia and Spike.

The icon at the bottom glowed again. Spike lunged to click on it, Garcia echoing his motion from her own screen. Another window popped up, totally blacked out except for the words 'Audio Only.'

"Well, it's been fun," came a new voice. Young, male, slightly nasal, and very cheerful. "But there's no way either of you is getting my servers in the next five minutes."

"Dude! How'd you do that?" Spike asked.

The following explanation was fired so quickly even those used to listening to Spike or Garcia babble in tech-speak were lost. Spike and Garcia stared at their screens, both unblinking and wide-eyed.

Garcia recovered first. "Where'd you learn that? Seriously! Who are you with?"

"I'm not with anybody," came the response.

"Wait. I thought this was for law enforcement only." Hotchner pushed forward to lean closer to the screen. "What organization do you work for?"

"Uh. Heh. Sorry." The voice sounded chagrined and small, like a teenager caught stealing the car. "I'm not technically part of any agency. I'm just a freelancer."

"How...what...How'd you get in?" Spike was somewhere between strangled and shouting. "Access was restricted!"

"Yeah, about that. Um, I'll send you guys some details on the security gaps I exploited, okay? Can you forward them onto the tournament officials? You probably don't want any cybercriminals learning all your tricks."

"Can I ask who you are?" Greg called, pitching his voice to friendly and non-threatening. "If you're good enough to beat Spike in ten minutes, we might be interested in working with you."

"Oh. Uh. You-you can call me Donnie, I guess. But I don't think...I don't think I can exactly work for you guys. Either of you."

"Why not?" Rossi asked. "You cheated your way into the tournament but you obviously have good intentions or you wouldn't have offered to help close the gaps you used. If you're worried about someone using this tournament to hurt other people, you wouldn't have warned us about it."

"Unless I was a really bad guy playing some kind of game with you, right?" Donnie said. "No. I'm not. But I'm...there's a lot of reasons. It's complicated."

From the audio feed came a sudden crash and some vicious shouting.

"Are you safe where you are?" Ed asked, leaning forward and listening with all his concentration. "Do you need help?"

Donnie sighed. "Not like you mean. Don't worry about me. Spike, Penelope, it was nice to talk to you. I probably won't do it again. Keep up the good fight for me, okay?"

The connection ended just as the final seconds on the tournament trickled down.

"What just happened?" Sam asked, looking between his own team and the one on the screen.

"Well, it looks to me like your new friend wasn't interested in winning, either." Reid was pointing to a screen to the side of Garcia's webcam. "He split the servers exactly in half. You're tied. It's like he was never there."

"Oh, he was there, all right." Spike was meeting Garcia's eyes and they shared a blazing, fierce look. "You in?"

"Baby, as if you can get there before I do." She tossed her head. "The usual?"

"Always."

"What are you two going to do?" Morgan asked.

"We're gonna find Donnie," Spike said.

"I'm going to find him. You're going to be stuck with another derpface pic," Garcia corrected him.

"We'll see about that!" Spike shot back.

Greg smiled at his hacker before he looked up at the screen. "Agent Hotchner, perhaps we should let them chase down their new friend in peace. But if your team's ever in Toronto or has dealings where you could use the help of the SRU…"

Hotch cracked a small smile. "I'll be sure to call. Likewise, of course. Thank you, Sergeant Parker."

"Call me Greg."

"You know?" Reid said, leaning on JJ and watching the pair of hackers type furiously. "I feel kinda bad for this Donnie guy. He's probably got a good reason not to want to identify himself."

"If that were true, he wouldn't have gotten involved at all," Ed said.

"And he wouldn't have talked to them," Rossi told him.

"He could just be lonely," Reid said. "It's hard enough being a nerd."

Spike paused and looked up at him. "You got that right."

"You could leave him alone," Wordy said. "It's not like he can't find you if he does need you someday."

"Oh, no." Garcia shook her head. "Anybody that good who's never run in any circle I track? No way. Either he's an ally or he's a potential problem, and either way I want to know about it."

"She's right," Spike said. "You don't want us to lose track of this guy and have to hunt him down later."

"I think you two just like competing with each other," Jules said.

Spike flushed slightly and Garcia grinned. "Smart cookie. You should come out here sometime for girls' night out and dish all the dirt on our Canadian brethren!"

Jules smiled. "Maybe I will."

"Either way, the tournament is over, so my work here is done," Hotch said. He nodded to the others across the video feed. "Good hunting."

"Keep the peace," Greg told him.

Spike and Garcia both ignored the people moving around them. But they did notice that neither team completely abandoned their resident tech geeks – Morgan and Reid both continued to sit with Garcia, pulling out a pack of cards, and Greg moved to where he could spread out some paperwork while staying beside Spike.

The pair of hackers exchanged a tiny smile before they mutually shut off their connection.

It was good to know that they both had such loyal teammates. Friends. Family.

They hoped Donnie could say the same.

And if he couldn't, if he wasn't valued and protected, they would find him. They would become his allies and offer to make him part of something bigger than himself, something out to protect the innocent and beat back the nightmares of the world. To give him what they had found for themselves and would never trade away, no matter what.

But first, they had to catch him.

-==OOO==-

In a dark computer lab regularly punctuated by the sounds of subway trains and yelling from behind the big double-doors, Donnie smiled to himself.

"I'd wish you both luck, but I seriously don't want you to find me."

His own fingers moved over his specially-designed keyboard, fit for his much larger, three-fingered hands.

"But it would be really nice to play a game of cat-and-mouse that doesn't mean the lives of my family, or, you know, the whole entire world."

He ran a few checks of his network security and sat back to watch Spike Scarlatti and Penelope Garcia try to unravel the threads of his presence in the deepest part of the net.

"And if you do find me, well..." Don could only shake his head at how they might take running into a walking, talking, mutant turtle. With ninja skills.

"At least that will be one very interesting day."