It started with a pattern. One that he nor any of his brothers had ever really noticed before.
Every few weeks, regular as clock work, their father Splinter would drop whatever he was doing and say the magic words. "Donatello, report." It was a signal of sorts that Donatello understood meant something. But what exactly he had no idea. Still he would get on his computer, his mind and hands on auto pilot and do as his father had asked and look up information on...
He thought nothing of it as a child- truly he didn't- but the more his father demanded reports now that he was an adult the more Donatello was puzzled about why his father would ask for regular reports on a- well, a human girl. But he did. And like every other time he asked for the report, he expected Don to ask him no questions though he had to know that he was dying too.
And as usual, once he was done, Don printed out everything on some paper (pictures, schedules exct.) and handed them to Splinter who's fingers flexed a bit as he grasped the stack of papers in his hands as he turned and started to leave the lab. Ignoring the puzzled stare he was getting from his third son's honey colored eyes as he flipped through the papers almost eagerly.
Frowning a bit at his father's actions (as if he had never experienced them before and wasn't bothered by it in the least) he turned his eyes back to his computer screen and the files and stuff that he'd pulled up on it and decided to do some digging for once. It was really the only way to figure out what it was his father was doing since Splinter wouldn't tell him.
Typing a bit, he re-pulled up the pictures of the girl again and then looked up her name, age, address, and a few other things. Education, work, whether she was single, married, widowed. Whether she had kids or not. All of the things that he felt were important.
Anything that would make his father show an avid interest in her. Anything that would make her appear to be a threat to them- someone who needed to be put under surveillance. Though for the life of him he couldn't imagine how she could be a threat to them. It wasn't like he or his brothers had ever come into contact with her before in all the thirteen years they had been taking to the surface to fight and run around the city.
In fact he was pretty sure that he and his brothers had never laid eyes on her before on any of their trips to the surface.
Mores the pity. He thought as he stared at a close up of her picture on his computer screen. If he and his brothers had ever laid eyes on her in person he was sure that none of them would ever forget it. She wasn't an easily forgettable person. She was just...hands down, honest to god the most gorgeous human female he had ever seen before in his life.
So much so that he could almost feel himself growing excited as he read over her information.
Her name was Lily Blake, age twenty three. Height, five six. Weight, one hundred and thirty. Body type...petite yet curvy. The kind young men (and deviant young turtles) drooled over. Her figure was hour glass, her measurements beyond his imagining. Her facial features were angelicly beautiful, her eyes wide and teal colored. Her skin a soft cream color with a light healthy sheen of pink to it. Her hair was nearly waist length, the strands so vivid a red that they looked almost like blood running down her into her face and around her shoulders and down her back.
She had graduated her school top of her class. Gotten a job as a writer. Married. Been widowed after two years. She had no children to speak of according to her records.
Sighing in disappointment upon realizing that there was nothing there worth keeping track of, his mind turned again to his father's peculiar behavior. Thinking maybe he should say something to his brothers about it and see what they thought.